4 
 
A ncient Classics for English Readers 
 
 EDITED BY THE 
 
 REV. W. LUCAS COLLINS, M.A. 
 
 
 HERODOTUS 
 
 9 <>9 7 
 
CONTENTS OF THE SERIES. 
 
 HOMER : THE ILIAD, 
 HOMER: THE ODYSSEY, 
 HERODOTUS, 
 
 C^SAR, , 
 
 VIRGIL, 
 
 HORACE, 
 
 /ESCHYLUS, By 
 XENOPHON, 
 
 CICERO, 
 
 SOPHOCLES, 
 
 PLINY. By A. 
 EURIPIDES. 
 
 JUVENAL, . 
 ARISTOPHANES, 
 
 . . . By the Editor. 
 
 . . By the Same. 
 
 . . By George C. S wayne, M.A. 
 
 ... By Anthony Trollope. 
 
 .By the Editor. 
 
 , , . . By Theodore Martin, 
 
 the Right Rev. thb Bishop of Colombo. 
 . By Sir Alex. Grant, Bart., LKD. 
 
 .By the Editor. 
 
 . . By Clifton W. Collins, M.A. 
 
 Church, M.A., and W. J. Brodribb, M.A. 
 
 By William Bodham Donne. 
 By Edward Walford, M.A, 
 
 . . . By the Editor. 
 
 HESIOD AND THEOGNIS, By the Rev. James Davies, M.A. 
 PLAUTUS AND TERENCE, ... By the Editor. 
 TACITUS, .... By William Bodham Donne. 
 
 LUCIAN,.By the Editor. 
 
 PLATO.By Clifton W. Collins. 
 
 THE GREEK ANTHOLOGY, ... By Lord Neaves. 
 
 LIVY,.By the Editor. 
 
 OVID,.By the Rev. A. Church, M.A. 
 
 CATULLUS, TIBULLUS, & PROPERTIUS, ByJ. Davies, M.A. 
 DEMOSTHENES, . . By the Rev. W. J. Brodribb, M.A. 
 
 ARISTOTLE,... By Sir Alex. Grant, Bart., LL.D. 
 
 THUCYDIDES,.By the Editor. 
 
 LUCRETIUS, . . . . By W. H. Mallock, M.A. 
 PINDAR, ... By the Rev. F. D. Morice, M.A 
 
HEKODOTUS 
 
 c 
 
 nr 
 
 
 GEORGE C. SWAYNEj M.A. 
 
 UTI FELLOW OF CORPUS CHRISTI COLLEGE, OX 1 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 
 J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY. 
 
 BOSTON COLLEGE LIBRARY 
 
TA 
 
 .S°iA? 
 | ^0 
 
 126080 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 
 INTRODUCTION, . • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 1 
 
 CHAP. I. CRIESUS, . • . 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 11 
 
 it 
 
 II. CYRUS, . . 
 
 
 
 
 
 25 
 
 it 
 
 III. EGYPT, .... 
 
 • 
 
 * 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 40 
 
 it 
 
 IT. CAMBYSES, . . 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 65 
 
 it 
 
 Y. DARIUS, 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 75 
 
 n 
 
 VI. SCYTHIA, 
 
 # 
 
 • 
 
 » 
 
 • 
 
 86 
 
 n 
 
 VII. THE TYRANTS OF GREECE, 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 100 
 
 ii 
 
 VIII. IONIA, . w . 
 
 t . g >••'* . 
 
 -i .* 
 
 • 
 
 V 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 114 
 
 it 
 
 IX. MARATHON, . . " . 
 
 V U r - ■ 
 
 V - 
 
 • 
 
 
 t 
 
 . 131 
 
 n 
 
 X. THERMOPYLAE, 
 
 
 • 
 
 V* • 
 
 • 
 
 142 
 
 It 
 
 XI. SALAMIS, 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 156 
 
 <• 
 
 XII. PLATJSA AND MYCALE, . 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 166 
 
 II 
 
 XIII. CONCLUDING REMARKS,' 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 178 
 

INTBODUCTION. 
 
 So little is known for certain regarding the life of 
 Herodotus, “ the father of history,” that it may well 
 be a subject of congratulation that he has not shared 
 the fate of Homer, the father of poetry, in having 
 doubt thrown on his individual existence. 
 
 He appears to have been born about the year 484 
 before Christ, between the two great Persian invasions 
 of Greece, at Halicarnassus, a colony of Dorian Greeks 
 on the coast of Asia Minor. His family was one of 
 some distinction. From his writings alone we should 
 know that he received a liberal education, and became 
 familiarly acquainted with the current literature of his 
 day; and the epic form of his great prose work, besides 
 numberless expressions and allusions, bears witness to 
 the fact that the Homeric poems were his constant 
 study and model. 
 
 His early manhood v 7 as spent in extensive travels, 
 in which he accumulated the miscellaneous materials 
 of his narrative. He visited, in the course of them, a 
 great part of the then known world; from Babylon 
 and Susa in the east, to the coast of Italy in the 
 
 a. c. vol.' iii. £• 
 
2 
 
 UERODOTUS. 
 
 west; and from the mouths of the Dnieper and the 
 Danube in the north, to the cataracts of Upper Egypt 
 southwards. Thus his travels covered a distance of 
 thirty-one degrees of longitude from east to west, and 
 twenty-four of latitude from north to south—an area ol 
 something like 1700 miles square. It was an immense 
 range in days when there were few facilities for locomo¬ 
 tion, and when e^ery country was supposed to be at wai 
 with its neighbours, unless bound by express treaties 
 of peace and alliance. He travelled, too, it must be 
 remembered, in an age when robbers by land and sea 
 were members of a recognised profession,—very lucra 
 tive and not entirely disreputable : when (as we shall 
 see hereafter) disappointed political or military adven¬ 
 turers took to piracy as a last resort, without any sort 
 of compunction. “ Pray, friends, are you pirates,—or 
 what 1 ” is the question which old Nestor puts to his 
 visitors, in the ‘ Odyssey,’ without the least intention 
 either of jesting or of giving offence. A voyage itself 
 was such a perilous matter, that a Greek seaman never, 
 if he could help it, lost sight of land in the daytime, or 
 remained on board his ship during the night; and at 
 a later date the philosopher Aristotle distinctly admits 
 that even his ideal “brave” man may, without prejudice 
 t: his character, fear the being drowned at sea. The 
 range of our author’s travels is, however, less wonderful 
 than their busy minuteness. He is traveller, archaeo¬ 
 logist, natural philosopher, and historian combined in 
 one. He appears scarcely ever to have concluded his 
 visit to a country without exhausting every available 
 source of information. Personal inquiry alone seems to 
 have satisfied him, wherever it could be made ; though 
 consulted carefully all written materials within his 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 3 
 
 reach, records public and private, sacred and secular. 
 He rightly calls his work a “ History,” for the Greek 
 word “ history ” means really “ investigation,” though 
 it has passed into a different use with us. In Egypt 
 alone he seems to have spent many years, visiting 
 and exploring its most remarkable cities—Memphis, 
 Ilieropolis, and the “ hundred - gated ” Thebes. In 
 Greece proper, as well as its colonies on the Asiatic 
 seaboard and in South Italy, and in all the islands 
 of the Archipelago, he is everywhere at home, as well 
 as in the remoter regions of Asia Minor. 
 
 Such details of his life as have come down to us 
 rest on somewhat doubtful authority. It is said 
 that he was driven from Halicarnassus to Samos by 
 the tyranny of Lygdamis, grandson of that Queen 
 Artemisia whose conduct he nevertheless, with some 
 generosity, immortalises in his account of the battle of 
 Salamis; that in Samos he learned the Ionic dialect 
 in which his history is written; that in time he 
 returned to head a successful insurrection against 
 Lygdamis, but then, finding himself unpopular, joined 
 in the Athenian colonisation of Thurium, in Italy, 
 where he died and was buried, and where his tomb in 
 the market-place was long shown. His residence at 
 Samos may have been a fiction invented to explain 
 the dialect in which he wrote, which was more pro 
 bably that consecrated by usage to historical composi¬ 
 tion. At one time he appears to have removed to 
 Athens, where he received great honours, partly in the 
 substantial shape of ten talents (more than £2400), 
 after a public recitation of his history. According to 
 one story, he was commissioned to read it before the 
 Assembly of all the Greek States on the occasion of 
 
4 
 
 HERODOTUS. 
 
 the great national games held every fourtli year at 
 Olympia in Elis. 
 
 Amongst the audience on some such occasion, most, 
 probably at Athens, a young Athenian, Thucydides, 
 is said to have been present; and the introduction 
 which then took place may have given the first 
 stimulus to the future historian of the Peloponnesian 
 war, who, despairing of surpassing his predecessor as 
 a charming story-teller, boldly struck out for himself 
 a new path, as the founder of the critical method. It 
 seems also that at Athens Herodotus enjoyed the friend¬ 
 ship of the great tragic poet Sophocles. Plutarch has 
 preserved the opening words of a poem in which the 
 tragedian compliments the historian, after he had quit¬ 
 ted Athens for Thurium. In two of the tragedies of 
 Sophocles, the ‘ (Ed ip us at Colonos’ and the ‘Antigone,’ 
 are passages plainly adapted from this history. The 
 society of Athens under Pericles, comprising all that 
 was most select and brilliant in art and intellect, must 
 have had great attractions for Herodotus; and it im¬ 
 plies some self-denial on his part to have torn him¬ 
 self away from it. Probably he longed to exercise, 
 as most Greeks did, full political rights, which, as an 
 alien, he could not enjoy at Athens, though he was 
 evidently an enthusiastic admirer of her institutions. 
 
 After his emigration to Thurium, he seems to have 
 devoted his life to the elaboration and amplification of 
 his great work. Several passages in his history prove 
 that he was, at all events, acquainted with the earlier 
 events of the great Peloponnesian war. The balance 
 of evidence seems to point to his death having occurred 
 when he was about sixty. If so, he at least escaped 
 witnessing, as the result of that war, the hill of his 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 5 
 
 beloved Athens from her well-won supremacy over 
 Greece. 
 
 The history of Herodotus is a great prose epic, sug¬ 
 gested doubtless to the author in early life by the fame 
 of those events which were still fresh in the minds of 
 all men—the repulse of the Persian invasion, and the 
 liberation of Greece. The Greeks had thrown off col¬ 
 onies, from time to time, into the islands of the 
 Levant and the west coast of Asia.* These Asiatic 
 Greeks had actually been enslaved by Persia; and 
 European Greece, though free from the first, could 
 only wake to the full consciousness of that freedom 
 when the overshadowing dread of the monster Asiatic 
 power had been dissipated. Independence could be 
 but a name for either Athenian or Spartan, so long as 
 the very sight of the Persian dress (as Herodotus tells 
 us) inspired terror. Until Miltiades won Marathon, by 
 a rush as apparently desperate as our Balaklava charge, 
 the Persians had been reputed invincible. Their second 
 expedition against Greece was intended to repair the 
 damaged prestige of Persian valour, by setting in mo¬ 
 tion overwhelming numbers. It seemed as if the dead 
 weight alone of Asiatic fleets and armies must carry all 
 before it. It did indeed carry Athens, but not the Athen¬ 
 ians. The sea-fight of Salamis was won by citizens who 
 had lost their city. The two great victories which fol¬ 
 lowed within a year—Platsea and Mycale, gained on 
 the same day—indicated for ever the superiority of 
 Europeans over Asiatics. The latter was fought out 
 
 * Of these colonies, some were Ionian, some Dorian, and 
 some fl£olian, having been originally founded by each of these 
 old Greek races. But Herodotus usually speaks of them all as 
 r< lonians,” as these took the most active share in the war. 
 
6 
 
 HERODOTUS. 
 
 on Asiatic ground—the beginning of the great retribu¬ 
 tion which has continued even to the present time, 
 represented by uncertain tides of Western conquest 
 gradually gaining ground on the East. 
 
 Never before or since has an author employed him¬ 
 self with grander subject-matter than Herodotus. The 
 victories of Freedom in all ages, more than any other 
 conquests, have stirred the human heart to its depths. 
 It is the cause that alone humanises war, and makes it 
 other than brutal butchery. Many such victories there 
 have been in the course of time, but all of local and 
 limited importance in comparison. And, indeed, per¬ 
 haps Marathon made Morgarteri possible. By Salamis 
 and Plataea the world may have escaped being oriental¬ 
 ised for ever, and bound in the immobility of China. 
 These battles, by saving freedom and securing progress, 
 anticipated the overthrow of the Saracens before Tours, 
 and of the Turks before Vienna. Herodotus, indeed, 
 could not see all this, when the plan of his great his¬ 
 tory dawned on his mind, but the salvation of his be¬ 
 loved Greece was to him a sufficient inspiration. 
 
 We find the same unity of design in the history of 
 Herodotus as in Homer’s great epic. As in the ‘Iliad,’ 
 not the siege of Troy but the wrath of Achilles is the 
 continual burden, so, in our author’s work, not the his¬ 
 tory of Greece but the destruction of the great Persian 
 armada is its one great subject. All the other local 
 histories, though introduced with much fulness of 
 detail, are subordinate to this consummation. They 
 How to it like the tributaries of a river, whose might 
 and grandeur make men love to explore its sources. 
 I lo gives us in succession the early history of Lydia, 
 of Babylon, and of Assyria, in order to trace the rise 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 ? 
 
 and fall of those several Asiatic powers which merged 
 at last in the great empire of the Modes and Persians, 
 who are the actors in his true drama, to which these 
 preliminary histories are a discursive prologue. His 
 work is not a romance founded on fact, like Xeno¬ 
 phon’s ‘ Education of Cyrus,’ or Shakspeare’s his¬ 
 torical plays, or Scott’s ‘ Quentin Dunvard.’ It is 
 serious history, as history was understood in his time. 
 But the historian’s appetite was omnivorous in the 
 collection of materials, and robustly digested fable and 
 fact alike. His mind was like that of Froissart and 
 Philip de Comines, who lived in another age, when 
 miracles were thought matters of course. Yet in He¬ 
 rodotus we perceive the dawning of that criticism 
 which finds its full expression in Thucydides, who was 
 in mind a modern historian, though less fastidious as to 
 the evidence of facts than a man of our century would 
 be. The incredulity of Herodotus, when it shows itself, 
 seems rather evoked by the suspected veracity of his 
 informant, or some contradiction in phenomena, than 
 by the incredible nature of the facts themselves. 
 
 He has been nu'ist found fault with for ascribing 
 effects to inadequate causes ; but we ought rather to feel 
 grateful to him, considering the mould in which the 
 mind of his time was cast, for endeavouring to trace 
 the connection between cause and effect at all. In 
 Homer the gods arc always in requisition, and always 
 at hand to manage matters, even in minutest details. 
 That Herodotus had a religious mind there can be no 
 doubt, for he speaks even of foreign and barbaric 
 rites and beliefs with intense respect. And the great 
 Liberation War of Greece was, in its circumstances, cal¬ 
 culated to illustrate one great pervading principle of his 
 
8 
 
 HERODOTUS. 
 
 religion—tliat heaven will not allow an excess of 
 mortal prosperity. The rock which overhung the hay 
 of Salamis, whence Xerxes looked down on his 
 host, might well bear the statue of Nemesis. Nemesis, 
 in the religious system of the ancient Greeks, is 
 the great divine stewardess, who assigns to man his 
 quota of good or of evil. If man takes to himself more 
 good than his share, she adjusts the balance by giving 
 him evil; for the gods are jealous of those Avho try to 
 vie with them. Did not Apollo flay Marsyas for daring 
 to contend with him on the lyre 1 Did not Minerva 
 change Arachne into a spider for boasting to be a better 
 spinster than herself 1 So the Sovereign of the gods 
 cannot endure the luxury and pride of the earthly 
 despot. It becomes the business of Nemesis to com¬ 
 pass his destruction. She invokes against him Atk, 
 or Infatuation. At6 blindfolds his mind, and forces 
 him to enter of his own will on the path whose end is 
 destruction. To ward off this, men resort to sacrifice; 
 but any sacrifice short of what is most precious is use¬ 
 less. Polycrates, the despot of Samos, almost insults 
 the gods in supposing that throwing a jewel into the 
 sea w T ill atone for the crime of prosperous sovereignty ; 
 the ring comes back to him in a fish brought to hi3 
 table. Was not Agamemnon compelled to sacrifice 
 his daughter, the pride of his house, before he could 
 obtain a fair wind to sail to Troy ? It seems to have 
 been an article of the Athenians’ creed, which Herod¬ 
 otus shared, that there was a sort of wickedness in 
 one free man attempting to rise above the level of his 
 fellow-citizens; and perhaps they thought that then 
 honourable punishment of ostracism was devised as 
 
TXT I, Ob CCTIOX. 
 
 5 
 
 rhuch for a groat man’s good as for theirs.* Tt was a 
 kind of inverted doctrine of the divine right of kings, 
 traces of which we find throughout the Attic literature. 
 Had Herodotus lived in our day, we may imagine 
 that his attention would have been powerfully arrested 
 by the fate of Napoleon the First, or the Czar Nicholas 
 of Russia, as illustrating this sentiment. 
 
 Frequent references will he found in these pages to 
 Mr Rawlinsoji’s ‘ History of Herodotusbut it is 
 desired here to acknowledge more distinctly the use 
 which has been made of his exhaustive volumes. 
 
 • 
 
 The History of Herodotus was divided by iho an¬ 
 cients into nine books, each bearing the name of one 
 of the Muses. His own order of narration is very dis¬ 
 cursive, for he digresses into local history and anecdote 
 continually. In these pages a rearrangement into 
 chapters will perhaps be more welcome to the general 
 reader. 
 
 * Ostracism was so called from the oyster-shells on which 
 Athenian citizens wrote their names in voting. Any man of 
 more than average greatness or goodness was liable to incur 
 this left-handed compliment, Avliich consisted in his being re¬ 
 quested to go abroad for a term of years, in case a sufficient 
 number of votes was given. It was instituted as a security to 
 democracy, and as preventive of coups d'etat. It was dis¬ 
 credited at last by its application to the case of a vulgar dema¬ 
 gogue. The Syracusans had a similar institution called “ Petal* 
 ism,” from the leaves of olive on which the names were written. 
 

THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 CROESUS. 
 
 tf And ever, against eating cares, 
 
 Lap me. in soft Lydian airs.” 
 
 —Milton, “ L’Allegro.” 
 
 Tn the great quarrel between Europe and Asia, which 
 is the end and scope of our author’s work, it is of the 
 utmost consequence to the satisfaction of his religious 
 principles that the balance of blame should incline to 
 the side of the true offenders. According to the show¬ 
 ing of the Persians themselves, who had their story¬ 
 tellers, if not historians, the Asiatics were the first of¬ 
 fenders. A Phoenician skipper went to Argos, and carried 
 off Io, the king’s daughter, to Egypt, whither he was 
 bound. By way of reprisals, the Greeks then carried 
 off two women for one— r Europa from Tyre, and Medea 
 from Colchis. This may have partly excused Alex¬ 
 ander or Paris, son of Priam king of Troy, for carry¬ 
 ing off Helen, the wife of Menelaus, from Sparta, in 
 the second generation afterwards. But then, said the 
 Persians, the Greeks put themselves clearly in the wrong 
 
12 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 —for instead of carrying off another lady, they made 
 the abduction of Helen a case of war. “ To carry off 
 women was manifestly the deed of unjust men, but to 
 make so serious matter of their abduction was the part 
 of simpletons, since they hardly could have been car¬ 
 ried off without their own consent.” Indeed, accord¬ 
 ing to one account, Io at least eloped of her own free 
 will. But in fact, our historian thinks, from the time 
 of the Trojan war the Asiatics looked upon the Greeks 
 as their natural enemies. 
 
 Without discussing too curiously all these tales, 
 Herodotus has no doubt in his own mind that the 
 blame ought to lie with the Asiatics, since Croesus, 
 king of Lydia, was the first historical aggressor._ Be¬ 
 fore his time all the Greeks were free, and he was the 
 first Asiatic potentate Avho, by fair means or foul, 
 reduced Grecian states to various kinds of dependency. 
 The towns on the coast he subdued by force, easily 
 enough. He had proposed to try the same means with 
 the islanders of the Archipelago, when he was dis¬ 
 suaded from his purpose by a shrewd jest. Among other 
 travellers who visited his court was one of the Seven 
 Wise Men of Greece—Bias of Priene. The king 
 asked him, as he did all His visitors, what was the last 
 news? “The islanders,” said Bias, “are busy raising 
 a force of cavalry with which they mean to invade 
 Lydia.” Croesus declared it was the very thing he 
 could wish,—but he hardly believed they could be so 
 utterly foolish. Bias ventured to think that the 
 Greek islanders would be equally amused to hear that 
 the Lydians intended to attack them on their own 
 element. The king took the hint: and it is the 
 earliest specimen we have of the wisdom which after- 
 
CROSS US. 
 
 13 
 
 wards so often clothed itself in the language of the 
 “ Court Fool.” 
 
 The Lydians appear to have been a people, like the 
 Egyptians, of nearly immemorial civilisation, and, like 
 the Asiatic tribes who fought for the Trojans, to have 
 had a common origin with the Greeks themselves, and 
 to have differed little from them in manner's and cus¬ 
 toms. There is manifest truth in the tradition which 
 connected them with the Etruscans and the Pelasgians; 
 and their three dynasties, of the second of which Her¬ 
 cules was said to be the founder, may have represented 
 three cognate races of conquerors, like the Saxons, 
 Danes, and Hormans with us. They appear to have 
 been at first a warlike people, but to have been ener¬ 
 vated by conquest, and then, like the descendants of 
 the ancient Italians, to have become chiefly famous as 
 artists; especially as musicians. 
 
 This Croesus, the son of Alyattes, in time extended 
 his empire over most of the countries westward of the 
 river Halys. He was, in some sort, the Solomon of his 
 age; fabulously rich, magnificent in his expenditure, 
 and of unbounded hospitality; so that great men came to 
 visit him from all parts, and to gaze on the splendours 
 of his court. Amongst them was Solon the Athenian. 
 Solon had remodelled the laws of Athens, with the 
 concurrence of the Athenian people , but, knowing the 
 fickleness of his countrymen, had gone into voluntary 
 exile for ten years, having bound them by oath that 
 they would make no change in their institutions in his 
 absence. Croesus, in the course of his conversations 
 with Solon, wished to extract from him the confession 
 that he considered him the happiest of mankind. 
 Solon refused to account any man happy till death had 
 
t4 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 set its seal on his felicity, and took occasion to warn 
 Croesus of the instability of all human affairs, dilat¬ 
 ing especially on the jealous nature of the gods. The 
 king could not brook the plain-speaking of his guest, 
 and dismissed him in disfavour. He was soon to 
 prove the truth of his warning: the terrible Nemesis, 
 says our author, was awakened—probably, he thinks, 
 by this very boast of thinking himself the happiest of 
 mortals. Then he goes on to tell, in his own delightful 
 fashion— 
 
 The Story of Adrastus. 
 
 Croesus had two sons—the one grievously afflicted, for 
 he was deaf and dumb, but the other by far the first 
 of the youths of his age, by name Atys. Now Croesus 
 dreamed that he should lose this Atys by the stroke of 
 an iron weapon. Through fear of this dream, he took 
 him no longer with him to the wars, but sought out 
 for him a wife who might keep him at home. Nay, 
 he even had all the weapons that hung in the men’s 
 rooms stacked away in the inner chambers, lest any of 
 them might fall on him by accident. While the mar¬ 
 riage was preparing, there came to seek refuge at Sardis 
 a Phrygian of royal birth who had committed homi¬ 
 cide. Croesus purified him with the due rites, and 
 then inquired his name. He said, “ I am Adrastus, 
 son of Gordias; I slew my brother by misadventure, 
 and my father has turned me out of doors, and I have 
 lost all.” And Croesus answered, “ Thou art the son 
 of a friend, and art come to friends; with me thou 
 shalt lack nothing. Thou wilt do best to bear thv 
 mishap as lightly as thou mayest.” About this time 
 it came to pass that a huge wild boar came out of 
 
CIKES US. 
 
 15 
 
 Mount Olympus in Mysia and laid waste the fields ; 
 and the people came to Croesus and besought him to 
 send to them his son to help them with the hunting- 
 train. And Croesus, mindful of the dream, refused to 
 send his son, but promised to send the train and picked 
 sportsmen of the Lydians. But his son Atys coming 
 in, was much vexed, and said, “ Thou bringest me to 
 shame, my father, in the eyes of the citizens and of my 
 bride, in that thou dost forbid me to go to the wars 
 and the chase, as though I were a coward.” But Croesus 
 said, “ I hold thee no coward, yet I do wisely, for I 
 was warned by a dream that an iron weapon should 
 slay thee; therefore did I give thee a wife to keep 
 thee at home. For thou art in truth my only son, for 
 the other I count as though he were not, being deat 
 and dumb.” Then answered the son, “It is natural, 
 my father, to take good heed on my behalf, after 
 such a dream. But what iron weapon hath a boar, 
 or what hands to hurl it 1 If indeed thou hadst 
 dreamed that I should die by a tusk, thou wouldst 
 be wise in doing what thou doest, but not now, for 
 this war is not with men.” Croesus confessed him 
 self persuaded by these words, and allowed his son to 
 join the chase ; but he begged Adrastus to go with him 
 and guard him, lest any evil should happen by the 
 way; and Adrastus, though heavy of heart, deemed 
 that he could deny Croesus nothing in return for his 
 kindness, and went accordingly. So the hunters made 
 a great hunt, and having brought the boar to bay, stood 
 round and threw javelins at him. And it came to pass 
 that Adrastus threw his javelin, and missed the boar, 
 and killed the son of Croesus. So the dream was ful¬ 
 filled. Now Croesus, when he heard the news, was 
 
1G 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 sorely troubled, and in his anguish called on Jupiter as 
 lord of purification, as lefrd of the hearth, as lord of 
 companionship, to witness what he suffered at the 
 hands of his suppliant, his guest, and the man whom 
 he had sent to guard his son. And now came the 
 Lydians hearing the corpse, and behind them followed 
 the slayer, Adrastus. And he, standing before the 
 bier and stretching forth his hands, besought Croesus 
 to take his life, as he was no longer worthy to live. 
 Then Croesus, though in great grief, pitied him and 
 said, “ Thou hast made full atonement, in that thou 
 hast judged thyself worthy of death. Thou art not 
 to blame, hut as a tool in the hands of some god, who 
 long since did signify to me what should come to 
 pass.” So Croesus buried his son, and spared Adrastus. 
 But when he was departed, Adrastus, as thinking him¬ 
 self of all men the most wretched, slew himself upon 
 the tomb. And Croesus mourned for his son for the 
 space of two years. But at the end of that time he was 
 fain to bestir himself, for there came to him a rumour 
 that Cyrus the Persian had conquered the Medes, and 
 was exalting himself above all the kings of the earth ; 
 and he hasted, if it were possible, to crush the Persian 
 power before it became too strong. 
 
 Croesus, in Herodotus’ story, appears in close rela¬ 
 tions with the god Apollo. The world-famous shrine of 
 this god was at Delphi on Mount Parnassus, currently 
 believed to be the exact centre of the earth—the earth 
 itself being looked upon as a round disc. In the temple 
 there, the site of which was supposed to be the spot 
 where the serpent Python was slain by the arrows of 
 the Sun-god, there was an oracle, the most renowned 
 
C1MESUS. 
 
 17 
 
 in tlie world. Its answers, in spite of tlieir ambiguity, 
 guided the public and private affairs of the Greeks to 
 an extent which appears to us now almost ludicrous. 
 Though generally vague and perplexing, yet they were 
 often so much to the point, that some of the old Fathers 
 of the Church attributed them to Satanic influence, as 
 they doubtless would table-turning and spirit-rapping, 
 if they lived now. It was also believed that their 
 efficacy ceased exactly with the coming of our Lord, 
 by which time, at all events, faith in them had worn 
 out. Milton alludes to this tradition in his “ Hymn 
 on the Nativity — 
 
 “ The oracles are dumb ; 
 
 No voice or hideous hum 
 
 Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving. 
 Apollo from his shrine 
 Can no more divine, 
 
 With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving. 
 
 No nightly trance, or brea^.Ad spell, 
 
 Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell.” 
 
 Before he determined on his expedition against 
 Cyrus, Croesus sent to test the most famous oracles in 
 Greece and that of Jupiter Ammon in Libya, in order 
 that he might know which was most to be trusted. 
 And he made the trial thus : he told his messengers 
 to ask each oracle, on the hundredth day after their 
 departure, what Croesus was doing at that particular 
 hour. The other answers are unrecorded, but the 
 answer of the priestess of Apollo at Delphi ran 
 thus:— 
 
 “ Truly the tale of the sand I know, and the measures of 
 ocean— 
 
 Deftly the dumb I read, I list to the voice of the silent. 
 
 A. c. vol. iii. B 
 
THE HISTORY OF HERODOTIS. 
 
 1 8 
 
 Savour lias reached my sense from afar of a strong¬ 
 skinned tortoise 
 
 Simmering, mixed together with flesh of lamb, in a caldron ; 
 Brazen the bed is beneath, and brazen the coverlet over.” 
 
 Croesus, when he received this answer, judged the god 
 of Delphi to be the wisest, since he alone could tell 
 exactly what he was doing—for he had been cooking the 
 flesh of a tortoise, mixed with lamb’s flesh, in a brass 
 caldron with a brass lid. Accordingly lie sent rich 
 presents to the shrine of Apollo, and ordered all his sub¬ 
 jects to pay him especial honours. Thus having satis¬ 
 fied himself that this oracle at least /vas true, he next 
 sent to inquire if he should go to war with the Per¬ 
 sians. The answer was, that if he did so “he would 
 ruin a great empireat which answer Croesus rejoiced 
 greatly, for he expected to destroy the empire of the 
 Persians. He sent a third time and inquired of the 
 oracle if his reign would be longl And the oracle 
 answered :—- 
 
 “ When it shall come to pass that the Medes have a mule 
 for monarch, * 
 
 Lydian, tender of foot, then along by the pebbles ot 
 Ilermus 
 
 Flee, and delay not then, nor shame thee to quail as a 
 coward.” 
 
 Croesus rejoiced still more when he heard this, for he 
 thought that, as a mule could never reign over men, 
 the rule of himself and his descendants would never 
 come to an end. 
 
 / 
 
 His next step, still under the advice of the oracle, 
 was to make friends of the most powerful Greek 
 states. At this point Herodotus, having wound his 
 readers up to the expectation of a catastrophe, like some 
 
C IKE SITS. 
 
 10 
 
 modern novelists, diverges into one of his favourite 
 episodes, and takes advantage of the fact that Crcesus 
 found the leading Greek states to he the Lacedemon¬ 
 ians and Athenians, to relate a part of tlieir history. 
 
 At Athens, Pisistratus, the son of Hippocrates, had 
 now raised himself to absolute power. Athens being di¬ 
 vided between the parties of the Plain and the Coast, he 
 had headed the third, called the party of the Mountain, 
 and by pretending that his enemies had wounded him, 
 managed to be allowed a body-guard, and then seized on 
 the citadel. He had some vicissitudes of fortune before 
 he was firm in the saddle, and on one occasion returned 
 to Athens in a chariot accompanied by a woman of 
 great beauty and stature, who personated the goddess 
 Atlienk (Minerva).* The success of the imposition is 
 possible, if we remember that the early Greeks be¬ 
 lieved that the gods sometimes came down visibly 
 among mortals. By whatever devices, however, he 
 gained or secured the sovereignty, he appears to 
 have ruled well and righteouslv, and to have done 
 much, for the civilisation and glory of Athens. 
 
 The Spartans or Lacedaemonians were now beginning 
 to assert the leadership which they afterwards ob¬ 
 tained in the Peloponnese, as a consequence of those 
 laws of Lycurgus, whose sole end and object was to 
 make Sparta a model barrack for a state of soldiers. 
 
 With the Spartans Croesus had no difficulty in con 
 eluding an alliance, as the path of friendship had 
 
 * If he liad also been accompanied by the owl of that goddess, 
 the case would have been very like one which occurred in the 
 remembrance of this generation, when a fugitive prince landed 
 in France with a tame eagle on his shoulder 
 
20 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 "been paved by a previous interchange of gifts and 
 civilities; they had also heard of the Delphic pro¬ 
 phecies. He immediately proceeded to commence a 
 campaign against the Persians by marching into Cap¬ 
 padocia. A sensible Lydian made one last effort to 
 dissuade him. “ 0 king,” said he, “ thou art about 
 to march against men who have trousers of leather, 
 and all the rest of their dress of leather, and they 
 feed not on what they would like but on what they 
 have ; for their land is rough. Hay more, they are 
 unacquainted with wine, being water-drinkers, and 
 they have no figs to eat, nor anything else that is good. 
 If thou conquerest them, thou canst get nothing from 
 them, for they have nothing to lose ; if thou dost not, 
 thou wilt lose all thine own good things. There will 
 he no thrusting them hack when once they have had 
 a taste of what we enjoy; nay, I thank the gods that 
 they do not put it into the mind of the Persians 
 to march against the Lydians.” 
 
 In undertaking this war, Croesus was prompted partly 
 by ambition, partly by his desire to punish Cyrus for 
 dethroning Astyages, the king of Media, who was his 
 brother-in-law. Crossing the river Halys,* the northern 
 boundary, he advanced to the country near Sinope, on 
 the Black Sea—in modern times notorious as the scene 
 of the destruction of the Turkish fleet by the Kussians. 
 Here Cyrus marched out to meet him. A battle took 
 place in which both sides claimed the victory. Croesus, 
 however, thinking his numbers too small for ultimate 
 success, determined to fall back on Sardis, and begin 
 the war again after the winter with larger forces. He 
 sent round to his allies to tell them to join him in four 
 
 * Now the Kizil Irinak. 
 
CIKES US. 
 
 'Al 
 
 montlis’ time. But liis long course of prosperity was 
 drawing to its close. Cyrus had not been so crippled 
 by the battle but that he could march straight to Sar¬ 
 dis and so “bring the news of his own arrival.” Croe¬ 
 sus, though surprised, led out the Lydians to meet him. 
 They were at this time as good men of war as any in 
 Asia. They fought, like the knights of chivalry, on . 
 horseback, with long lances ; and the plain before Sar¬ 
 dis was the bettle-field of their predilection. But Cyrus 
 invented a device to paralyse this cavalry. Taking 
 advantage of a horse’s natural fear of camels, he or¬ 
 ganised a camel brigade and placed it in his front, with 
 infantry behind it, and his own cavalry in the rear. 
 Though the Lydian knights, like the Austrians at Sem- 
 pacli, dismounted and fought on foot, the battle went 
 against them, and Croesus soon found himself besieged 
 in his capital. Then he sent messengers to his allies 
 urging them to help him with all speed. 
 
 The Spartans, even had they been able to reach 
 Sardis in time, could not set out at once, as they hap¬ 
 pened just then to have their hands full. They 
 were fighting with the men of Argos about a tract 
 of borderland called Thyrea. Argos had been in the 
 old Homeric times the head of the Peloponnesus, 
 and was always very jealous of Spartan supremacy. 
 The plausible plan had been adopted of fighting out 
 this particular quarrel by three hundred chosen men 
 on each side; though three on each side, as in the 
 affair of the Horatii and Curiatii between Pome and 
 Alba, might have answered the purpose quite as well. 
 The combat proved as deadly as that between the 
 rival Highland clans recorded by Scott in his ‘ Fair 
 Maid of Perth.’ Two only of the Argives were left, 
 
09 
 
 — U 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 who ran home with the news of the victory; while a 
 single Spartan, raising himself up from amongst a 
 heap of dead, remained in possession of the field and 
 set up a trophy. So the result was considered indeci¬ 
 sive, and the main armies fell to fighting, and the 
 Spartans conquered. Then the Argives shore their 
 hair, which they formerlv wore long, and bound them¬ 
 selves under a curse noc to let it grow again till they 
 had recovered Thvrea, and forbade their women to 
 wear gold ornaments—a prohibition probably more 
 difficult to enforce. The Spartans, in retaliation, made 
 a contrary vow, to let their hair grow, having worn it 
 cropped before. The survivor of their three hundred 
 was said to have slain himself for shame. 
 
 In the mean time Croesus was a lost man. The citadel 
 of Sardis had been scaled by the Persians at a point where 
 a king of old had omitted to carry round a lion, which 
 was to operate as a charm to prevent its being taken. 
 It has been mentioned that Croesus had a son w r ho was 
 deaf and dumb. His father had tried in vain all means 
 to cure him of his affliction, and given up the attempt- 
 in despair. But now, wfflen Sardis was taken, a soldier 
 approached Croesus, not knowing w r ho he was* to slay 
 him; and Croesus, in his deep grief, did not care to 
 hinder him, which he might have done by giving his 
 name, since Cyrus had issued express orders to his 
 army that the king of Lydia w r as to be taken alive. 
 Then suddenly the tongue of the youth was loosed, 
 and when he saw the Persian approaching, he cried 
 out—“ Fellow, do not kill Croesus!” and having made 
 this beginning, he continued able to speak for the rest 
 of his life. Thus Croesus w r as taken prisoner, after a 
 reign of fourteen years, and Cyrus, in the cruel spirit ol 
 
uit at. i us. 
 
 _ j 
 
 the age, placed him on a pile of wood, with the inten¬ 
 tion of burning him alive. Then Croesus bethought 
 him of the w T ise words of Solon, how r.o man should be 
 accounted happy until the end, and in his anguish 
 called aloud thrice upon Solon’s name. Cyrus asked the 
 meaning of the cry, and when he heard the story, was 
 so touched that he ordered the pile, which was already 
 lighted, to be put out. But this could not be done 
 by all their exertions until Croesus prayed to Apollo for 
 aid, when suddenly a great storm of rain came on and 
 extinguished the fire. 
 
 Cyrus treated his royal prisoner with all honour. 
 When the Persian soldiers began to plunder Sardis, 
 Croesus inquired of his conqueror what they were doing. 
 “ Spoiling thy goods, 0 Croesus.” “ Kay, not mine,” 
 replied the fallen monarch, “ but thine, 0 Cyrus.” 
 Then Cyrus stopped the sack of the city, and in grati¬ 
 tude for the suggestion of Croesus, begged him to name 
 any favour he could do him. “ My lord,” said he, 
 “ suffer me to send these chains to the god at Delphi, 
 and to ask if this is how lie requites his benefactors, 
 and whether ingratitude is an attribute of Greek gods in 
 general 1 ” For Croesus had loaded the shrine of Apollo 
 with costly presents. The message was sent, and the 
 priestess of the oracle made this reply : “ Croesus atones 
 for his forefather Gyges, who slew Candaules his mas¬ 
 ter. Apollo desired that the judgment should fall on 
 the son of Croesus and not on himself, but the gods 
 themselves cannot avert fate. The god did what he 
 could, for he deferred the fall of Sardis three years 
 beyond the destined time : secondly, he put out the 
 fire, and prevented Croesus being burnt alive : thirdly, 
 he did not give a lying oracle, for he only said that 
 
24 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS . 
 
 Croesus should destroy a great empire, without saying 
 what empire it should he. Croesus had no right to 
 interpret his words according to his own wish. As to 
 the oracle about the mule, he might have known that 
 Cyrus was a Persian by his father’s side and a Mede 
 by his mother’s, and so a hybrid king.” Croesus was 
 obliged to acquiesce in the explanation, and to take 
 his fate patiently. His ruin was, indeed, no common 
 bankruptcy. “ As rich as Croesus ” soon grew into a 
 vernacular proverb. Yet he was by no means a bad 
 specimen of the millionaire. His gentleness and good¬ 
 nature were as proverbial as his wealth, and Pindar, 
 the Theban poet, testifies to this point—doubtless for 
 substantial reasons of his own — 
 
 “ Of kindly Croesus and his worth 
 The name doth never fade.” 
 
 The strange vicissitudes of his life became a fertile 
 subject for Greek romancers and moralists. His riches 
 seem to have been derived partly from the grains of 
 gold brought down in the sand of the river Pactolus, 
 which made Asia Minor the California of antiquity. 
 This was doubtless the origin of the fable of the 
 Phrygian king Midas turning all that he touched to 
 gold. It seems that Sardis in early times was an 
 important place of trade, as Herodotus says that the 
 Lydians were the first coiners of money and the first 
 storekeepers, so far as was known. It was at the same 
 time notorious as the great slave-market of the world 
 
CHAPTER It 
 
 CYRUS. 
 
 i 
 
 “ Not vainly did the early Persian make 
 n is altar the high places, and the peak 
 Of earth-o’ergazing mountains, and thus take 
 A fit and unwalled temple, there to seek 
 The Spirit, in whose honour shrines are weak 
 Upreared of human hands.” 
 
 —Byron, “Childe Harold. * 
 
 Before the Medes or Persians made their appearance 
 in history, the Assyrians, according to Herodotus, had 
 ruled over upper Asia for five hundred and twenty 
 years. Asshur appears in Scripture * as a son of Shem, 
 who went out from the land of Sliinar and founded 
 Nineveh. Herodotus is supposed to have written a sepa¬ 
 rate nistory of Assyria, which has been lost; hut Layard 
 and others have deciphered for us a new history from 
 the monuments of that wonderful empire. The bearded 
 kings and warriors, with their wars and lion-liunts 
 graven on sandstone slabs, which are to be seen in the 
 British Museum and in the Louvre in Paris, look as 
 fresh as if they had been sculptured yesterday instead 
 of nearly three thousand years ago. The Assyrians 
 were of the Semitic race, of the same family as the 
 
 * Gen. x. 11, 22. 
 
20 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 Jews and Arabs; while the Medes and Persians were, 
 in Scriptural phrase, of the sons of Japheth—that is, 
 they belonged to the same Aryan, Iranian, or Indo* 
 Germanic family as the Greeks and Romans, and our¬ 
 selves. The home of the Assyrians and their cognate 
 Babylonians was in the great plain of Mesopotamia, 
 while the Medes lived in the mountains to the east, 
 and the Persians to the south-east. The Median high¬ 
 landers, being of more hardy habits, first conquered the 
 Assyrian lowlanders, and then, descending to their 
 softer country and habits, were conquered in their turn 
 by the hardier Persians. The decline of Assyria was 
 consummated by the fall of Nineveh, which was taken, 
 about b.c. 625, by Cyaxares, third king of the Medes, 
 in conjunction with the Babylonians. The first king 
 of the Medes is said to have been Deioces, who built 
 the wonderful city called by Herodotus Agbatana,* and 
 less correctly by later writers Ecbatana, with its seven 
 circular walls, one within the other, with the palace 
 and treasuries in the centre. The first wall had white 
 battlements, the second black, the third scarlet, the 
 fourth blue, the fifth orange. The last two walls 
 had their battlements silvered and gilt. They rose 
 one above another on a conical hill, and were sup¬ 
 posed to have had a symbolic meaning, as referring 
 to the sun, moon, and five planets, or the deities pre¬ 
 siding over the days of the week. The last king of 
 the Medes was Astyages, the son of Cyaxares. He 
 had given his daughter Mandane in marriage to Cam- 
 1 >yses, who was, according to our author’s account, a 
 poor Persian gentleman, but according to later autho 
 ritics, a descendant of the first Persian king Achae 
 * In tlie Behistuu inscription it is Hagmatana. 
 
CYRUS. 
 
 27 
 
 menes. Astyages dreamed that lie saw a vine spring 
 from the body of his daughter Mandane, which over¬ 
 shadowed the whole of Asia. We know from Scrip¬ 
 ture how much stress the Chaldeans and the Medes 
 laid on dreams. Fearing that an offspring of Mandane 
 would deprive him of his sovereignty, Astyages or¬ 
 dered the son that was horn of her to be destroyed. 
 The courtier Harpagus, who was commissioned to do 
 this, passed on the child to one of the royal herds¬ 
 men, that he might expose it to die upon the moun¬ 
 tains. But the herdsman’s wife, when she saw 
 that it was “ a proper child,” and plainly of noble 
 birth, adorned for death with gorgeous apparel, took 
 pity on the infant, and as she had just lost one 
 of her own, persuaded her husband to expose the 
 dead child, and save the living one, that she might 
 nurse it. So the future Cyrus lived, while the herds¬ 
 man’s child received a royal funeral. When the boy 
 was ten years old he was playing one day with the 
 children of his village. The game was King and 
 Courtiers. Cyrus was chosen king, and assumed the 
 dignity as if he had been born to it, appointing officers, 
 architects, guards, couriers, and an official called the 
 King’s Eye,* (possibly the head of the detective police). 
 
 * This officer is introduced in Aristophanes’ comedy of ‘ The 
 Acharnians. ’ He appears in a mask (as in a modern burlesque) 
 with a single huge eye in the centre. He is brought to Athens 
 bv some envoys who have been at the court of Persia. Dicmo- 
 polis (an honest farmer who is present at the reception) is in¬ 
 dignant at their waste of time and the public money. 
 
 “Envoy. —We’ve brought you here a nobleman—Sham-artabas 
 By name, by rank and office the King’s Eye. 
 
 Dicceop .—God send a crow to peck it out, say I ! 
 
 And yours th’ ambassadors’ into the bargain.” 
 
 —Fkerf’s TraneL 
 
28 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS . 
 
 In carrying out his character, Cyrus ordered one ol 
 the children, the son of a Median of high rank, to l> 
 flogged for disobedience. The angry child went t< 
 the city and complained to his father, who in tun 
 complained to the real king. Astyages ordered th( 
 despotic urchin to be brought into his presence. Tin 
 abashed, however, the boy justified himself; and this 
 circumstance, together with a strong family resem¬ 
 blance, led to his recognition by the grandfather, who 
 came at the truth by examining the herdsman andHarpa- 
 gus. He now dissembled his wrath, pretended that he 
 was glad the child had been saved, and invited Harpagus 
 to send his son to be the companion of the young prince, 
 and to come himself to dinner. After Harpagus had 
 well feasted, Astyages asked him how he liked his 
 entertainment; he said it was excellent. Upon this, 
 a basket was shown to him containing the head, 
 hands, and feet of his own son, on whose flesh he 
 had been feasting. The father, with the dissimulation 
 natural to the subjects of an Oriental despotism, 
 observed that whatsoever the king did was right in 
 his eyes. It is the very answer which the son of 
 Ethelwold is said by William of Malmesbury to 
 have made when King Edgar showed him his father’s 
 corpse, slain by him in the royal forest; the 
 English chronicler having evidently borrowed from 
 Herodotus. 
 
 Astyages now consulted the Magi (a caste of priests 
 of whom we shall hear more hereafter) as to what 
 was to be done. They said that they considered that 
 Cyrus had ceased to be dangerous, since he had been 
 king already in the children’s play. So Astyages sent 
 him away into Persia, to his real parents. Meanwhile 
 
cm us. 
 
 29 
 
 Harpagus r arsed his revenge, till Cyrus was grown to 
 man’s estate, and then he felt his time was come. He 
 sent a letter to the noble youth sewn up in the belly 
 of a hare, bidding him put himself at once at the head 
 of the Persians, and revolt from Astyages. This king 
 —surely under some infatuation from heaven, says the 
 historian—forgetting the deadly wrong which he had 
 done Harpagus, sent him to suppress the revolt. He 
 deserted to Cyrus, and the Medes were easily defeated. 
 Thus Cyrus destroyed the great Median empire, and 
 substituted that of the Persians—becoming, after the 
 downfall of Croesus, master of all Asia. He treated 
 his grandfather Astyages with all honour to the day 
 of his death. 
 
 There was a religious as well as a political dis- 
 sidence between the two nations. They both wor¬ 
 shipped the elements and “all the host of heaven,” 
 and planetary deities; but the Persian national creed 
 recognised both a good and an evil principle in nature,, 
 constantly at war, whom they called Ormuzd and Aliri- 
 man. The Persians, according to Herodotus, eschewed 
 images, temples, and altars, and sacrificed to the ele¬ 
 mental deity on the tops of mountains. But lie has 
 evidently confused the Median worship with theirs. 
 Their habits much resembled those of the old Ger- 
 mans, as described by Tacitus. They were originally 
 a simple people, and compulsory education with them 
 was limited to teaching their sons “ to ride, to draw the 
 bow, and speak the truth.” Hext after lying, they 
 counted running in debt most disgraceful, since “ he 
 who is in debt must needs lie.” Lepers were banished 
 from society, as they were supposed to • have sinned 
 against the sun; even white pigeons being put under 
 
30 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS . 
 
 taboo ” for a similar reason.* They were very much 
 given to wine ;t and discussed every subject of import¬ 
 ance twice—first when they were drunk, and again 
 when they were sober. As water was a sacred ele¬ 
 ment, none might defile a river—a sanitary regula¬ 
 tion in which we moderns would do well to follow 
 them. The bodies of the dead presented a difficulty. 
 They might not be buried, for the earth was sacred; or 
 thrown into rivers, for water was sacred ; or burnt, for 
 fire was sacred. They were therefore exposed to be 
 torn by birds and beasts — a fate of which the Greeks 
 had the greatest horror. The Parsees of India, ami 
 the native Australians, dispose of their dead in much 
 the same way. As a compromise, adopted from the 
 Magi, a body might be buried when covered with wax 
 to prevent its contact with the earth. 
 
 The Persians, when they had conquered the Medes, 
 soon degenerated from their earlier simplicity, which 
 is celebrated by Xenophon in his romance of the 
 ‘ Education of Cyrus.’ 
 
 When Cyrus, by the defeat of Croesus, had made 
 himself master of Lydia, the Greek colonists on the 
 Asiatic seaboard sent to him in alarm, and begged to 
 be allowed to be his vassals on the same terms as they 
 had been to Croesus. He answered them by a scornful 
 parable : “ There was a certain piper who piped on the 
 
 * So to this day, in India, all white animals are looked upon 
 much in the wav in which we ourselves regard albinoes—a kind 
 of unhealthy lusus naturae. 
 
 + Their successors retain the taste. “ It is quite appalling,” 
 says Sir H. Rawlinson, “ to see the quantity of liquor which 
 some of these topers habitually consume, and they usually pre¬ 
 fer spirits to wine.” 
 
CYRUS. 
 
 31 
 
 sea-shore for the fish to come out, hut they came not. 
 Then he took a net and hauled out a great draught 
 of them. The fish, in their agonies, began to caper. 
 But he said, ‘ Cease to dance now, since ye would not 
 dance when I piped to you.’ ”* This answer drove the 
 Ionian Greeks to fortify their towns and send ambas¬ 
 sadors to Sparta for assistance. Their envoy, however, 
 disgusted the Spartans by wearing a purple robe and 
 making a long speech—two things which they de¬ 
 tested ; and they voted not to send the succours, but 
 despatched a fifty-oared ship to watch the proceedings 
 of Cyrus. When this vessel reached the port of Phoctea, 
 a herald was sent on to Sardis to warn Cyrus from the 
 Spartans not to hurt any Greek city on pain of their dis¬ 
 pleasure. This caused Cyrus to inquire who these Spar¬ 
 tans were, and how many in numbers, that they dared to 
 send him such a message. When he was informed he said, 
 “ I am not afraid of people who have a place in their 
 city where they meet to cheat each other and forswear 
 themselves ” (meaning the agora or market-place); “ and 
 if I live, the Spartans shall have troubles enough of their 
 own, without troubling themselves about the Ionians.” 
 
 Cyrus had other business on his hands at present 
 than to punish the Greeks; he therefore went back to 
 Ecbatana, leaving a strong garrison in Sardis. But 
 while he was on his way he heard that one Pactyas 
 had induced the Sardians to revolt, and was besieging 
 the garrison in the citadel. Troops were sent to put 
 down the revolt; Pactyas, however, did not v r ait for tlieii 
 arrival, but fled to Cyme, on which the Persian general 
 demanded his extradition. The m( n of Cyme sent to 
 
 * This Eastern apologue may serve as an illustration of the 
 parable in Matt. xi. 16. 
 
32 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 ask advice at a neighbouring oracle of Apollo, and the 
 answer came that Pactyas was to be given up. Some 
 of the citizens, not satisfied with this answer, thought 
 the envoys must have made a mistake, and sent again 
 to remonstrate with the god, but the answer was 
 repeated ; whereupon Aristodicus, the principal envoy, 
 went round the temple and cleared away all the 
 nests of sparrows and other birds that he found there. 
 While he was thus engaged, a voice came from the 
 sanctuary,—“ Unholy man, darest thou to tear my sup¬ 
 pliants from my temple ? ” on which Aristodicus, by no 
 means abashed, replied,—“ 0 king, thou canst protect 
 thine own suppliants, and yet thou orderest the Cym- 
 seans to surrender theirs.” “ I do,” answered the god, 
 “ that you may the sooner perish; for it was in the 
 naughtiness of your hearts that you came to consult me 
 on such a matter.” * Eventually they sent Pactyas to 
 Chios for safety ; but the Chians gave him up to the 
 Persians, even tearing him from the temple of Minerva ; 
 and Atarneus, a district opposite Lesbos, was paid them 
 as the price of blood. Put there was a curse on the 
 produce of Atarneus for ever. 
 
 The Persians now proceeded to punish the revolted 
 Lydians and Ionians, and Harpagus, the king-maker, 
 who had deposed Astyages, forthwith beleaguered 
 Phocsea. The inhabitants of this city, however, pre¬ 
 ferred exile to slavery; taking an oath never to 
 
 * The remarkable answer attributed here to the oracle may 
 Berve to illustrate the permission given to Balaam to go with the 
 messengers of Balak. Even to the heathen mind, there were 
 questions of conscience so clear, that to consult heaven specially 
 in the mattei was a mockery [See the almost parallel case of 
 Glaucus, ch. viii ] 
 
C\ 7? PS. 
 
 3o 
 
 return until a bar of iron, which they sank in the sea, 
 should rise and float, they set sail, and, after a multi¬ 
 tude of adventures, found a resting-place on the coast 
 of Italy. 
 
 Most of the other towns on the coast were subdued 
 after a gallant resistance, and the islanders gave them¬ 
 selves up. Then Harpagus turned inland against the 
 Carians and Lycians. The Carians deserve notice as 
 the reputed inventors of crests to helmets, and of heraldic 
 devices. The Lycians were early advocates of the rights 
 of women; naming men not after their fathers, as 
 was usual, but after their mothers. The Lycians of 
 Xanthus * made a desperate resistance. Finding they 
 could not beat the Persians in the field, they made a 
 great pile on which they burnt their wives and chil¬ 
 dren, and all their valuables, and then sallied out and 
 perished in battle to a man. Their example was imi¬ 
 tated by Saguntum in Spain in the second Punic war. 
 
 While Harpagus was thus subduing the coast, Cyrus 
 was pursuing his conquests in Upper Asia. . He turned 
 his arms against Labynetus, king of Babylon. This 
 renowned city, says our historian, formed a vast square 
 fifty-five miles in circuit. Its double walls were 340 
 feet high (nearly as high as St Vincent’s rock at Bristol) 
 and 85 feet thick. The measurements seem enor¬ 
 mous, yet the great wall of China shows such works 
 to be possible, when absolute power commands un¬ 
 limited labour. The city itself was cut in two by the 
 river Euphrates, the quays being fenced by walls with 
 
 * About thirty years ago the British Museum was enriched 
 by some beautiful marbles brought from Xanthus by an expe¬ 
 dition which explored Lycia under the conduct of Sir Charles 
 Fellowes. 
 
 a. c. vol. iiu 
 
 o 
 
34 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS 
 
 water-gates for communication. One half contained 
 the king’s palace, the other the great sacred tower ol 
 Belus (Bel or Baal) ivith its external winding ascent. 
 Babylon was in fact a fortified province rather than 
 a city ; it resembled Jeddo in Japan, in being a collec¬ 
 tion of country houses with small farms and gardens 
 attached. It seems to have been the ideal of what a 
 great city ought to be, especially in days of internal 
 railroads. London, containing its millions, with its 
 thin houses laterally squeezed together, or Paris, with 
 its horizontal piles of flats, and no corresponding 
 spaces, would have excited the horror of the an¬ 
 cients, who in some respects were more civilised than 
 ourselves. Herodotus attributes the great engineering 
 works about Babylon, to prevent the Euphrates from 
 overflowing the country, chiefly to two queens, Semira- 
 mis* and Hitocris, between whom he places an interval 
 of five generations. Of this latter he relates a striking 
 anecdote. ■ 
 
 “ She built for herself a tomb above the most fre¬ 
 quented gateway of the city, exactly over the gates, 
 and engraved on it the following inscription : ‘ If any 
 of the kings of Babylon who come after me shall be in 
 need of money, let him open my tomb and take there¬ 
 from as much as he will; but unless he is in need, let 
 him not open it, else will it be worse for him.’ How 
 this tomb remained undisturbed until the kingdom fell 
 to Darius. But he thought it absurd that this gateway 
 should be made no use of—for it was not used, because 
 one would have had to pass under the dead body as one 
 
 * This queen appears to have really reigned in conjunction 
 with her husband. She is probably not the great queen known 
 by the same name. 
 
c me, s. 
 
 35 
 
 went out—and that when money was lying there idle, 
 and calling out for some one to take it, he should not 
 lay his hand on it. So he opened the tomb and found 
 no money at all, but only the dead body, and these 
 words written—‘ If thou wert not the greediest of men, 
 and shameless -in thy greed, thou wouldst not have 
 disturbed the resting-place of the dead.’ ” 
 
 Although the author notices most of the wonders of 
 Babylon, he makes no mention of the hanging-gardens, 
 which excited the astonishment of later writers. Nebu¬ 
 chadnezzar is said to have constructed them out of affec¬ 
 tion for a Median wife, that she might not be afflicted 
 with a Swiss longing for her native mountain scenery.'* 
 
 Having defeated the Babylonians in battle, Cyrus 
 drove them inside their huge walls. There they 
 laughed at his efforts, having good store of provisions 
 for many years. But their enemy proved himself as 
 good an engineer as any of their queens, historical or 
 fabulous. Taking advantage of reservoirs previously 
 existing, he turned off by a canal the waters of the 
 Euphrates, and the Persians walked into the city dry- 
 shod by the bed of the river, even the water-gates 
 having been left open by incomprehensible careless¬ 
 ness. Those who were in the centre of the city, say° 
 Herodotus, were still feasting, dancing, and revelling, 
 after the Persians had entered. It is the night de¬ 
 scribed in the Book of Daniel, when the terrible 
 “handwriting” was seen upon the wall.t 
 
 The Babylonians were a luxurious people. Their 
 
 * So a great fox-hunter, who could not find it in his heart to 
 leave England, is said to have turned his conservatory into a 
 little Italy for his delicate wife. 
 
 + The names of the Eastern kings are so variously given. 
 
36 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 full dress was a long linen tunic, with, a woollen robe 
 over it, and a short white cloak or cape over the 
 shoulder. Though they wore their hair long, they 
 swathed their heads in turbans, and perfumed them¬ 
 selves all over. Each citizen carried his walking- 
 staff, carved at the top with the likeness of some 
 natural object—such as an apple, a rose, a lily, or an 
 eagle—and had also his private signet. Of these seals 
 (which are hollow cylinders) great numbers have been 
 found during the late explorations, and brought to 
 Europe.* 
 
 Herodotus records one of their customs, which, whe¬ 
 ther in jest or earnest, he declares to he the wisest he 
 ever heard of. This was their wife-auction, by which 
 they managed to find husbands for all tlieir young 
 women. The greatest beauty was put up first, and 
 knocked down to the highest bidder; then the next in 
 the order of comeliness—and so on to the damsel who 
 was equidistant between beauty and plainness, who was 
 given away gratis. Then the least plain was put up, and 
 knocked down to the gallant who would marry her for 
 the smallest consideration,—and so on till even the plain¬ 
 est was got rid of to some cynical worthy who decidedly 
 
 that it is almost impossible to identify them either in sacred or 
 profane history. The Labynetus of Herodotus is Nabonidus, 
 or Nabonadius, in other writers. The “Belshazzar” whom 
 Daniel calls “king” was probably his son, associated with 
 him in the government. His name appears in inscriptions as 
 Bilshar-uzur. We know from other authorities that Labynetus 
 himself was not in the city at its capture.—See Rawlinson’s 
 Herodotus, i. 524, &c. 
 
 * They are commonly of some composition, but occasionally 
 have been found in amethyst, cornelian, agate, &c.—Bayard’s 
 Nineveh and Babylon, 602, &c. 
 
CYRUS. 
 
 37 
 
 preferred lucre to looks. By transferring to the scale of 
 the ill-favoured the prices paid for the fair, beauty was 
 made to endow ugliness, and the rich man’s taste was 
 the poor man’s gain. The Babylonian marriage-market 
 might perhaps be advantageously adopted in some mo¬ 
 dern countries where marriage is still made a commercial 
 matter. It at least possesses the merit of honesty and 
 openness, and tends to a fair distribution of the gifts of 
 fortune. 
 
 Another Babylonian custom, of which Herodotus 
 strongly approves, was that of employing no profes¬ 
 sional physicians, but placing the sick in the gate of 
 the city, that they might get advice respecting the 
 treatment of their diseases from every passer-by, and 
 thus profit by the experience of those who had been 
 afflicted in the same way as themselves. Whatever 
 may be thought of the absence of regular practitioners, 
 the alternative would certainly seem one of the excep¬ 
 tional cases where wisdom is not found in a multitude 
 of counsellors. 
 
 Having annexed this great and rich province to his 
 dominions, Cyrus seems to have been intoxicated with 
 success, or, in our author’s view, to have filled up the 
 measure of his prosperity, which now began to run over 
 in insolent self-confidence. He made an expedition 
 against the Massagetse or Greater Goths, who lived in 
 the steppes near the Caspian Sea, and were ruled by 
 an Amazonian widow named Tomyris. While en¬ 
 camping against her, Cyrus dreamed that Darius, 
 the son of Hystaspes, a young noble of the royal 
 house of Persia, appeared to him with wings on his 
 shoulders (like some of the Assyrian gods whose figures 
 l*e must have seen), with one of which he overshadowed 
 
58 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 Asia and the other Europe. This portended liis fall, 
 and the ultimate accession of Darius. At first he 
 gained a partial advantage by the stratagem of leaving 
 a camp stored with wine to he plundered by the 
 water - drinking Massagetae, and then returning and 
 massacring them in their sleep. This was the shrewd 
 advice of Croesus the Lydian, whom Cyrus had taken 
 with him on the expedition. Among the prisoners 
 taken was the son of the Massagetan queen. Cyrus 
 released him from his bonds at his own request; but 
 the youth, unable to bear his disgrace, only took advan¬ 
 tage of his liberty to kill himself. At length the 
 invaders were forced to a general action—the fiercest, 
 says Herodotus, ever fought between barbarian armies. 
 The Persians were completely defeated, and Cyrus 
 himself was slain, after a reign of twenty-nine years. 
 Queen Tomyris, exasperated by the treacherous 
 slaughter of her army and the death of her son, had 
 threatened to give the bloodthirsty invader his fill of 
 blood ; she kept her word by filling a skin with it, 
 and plunging into it his severed head. 
 
 Such is the account which Herodotus gives of the 
 death of the great Eastern conqueror, so famous both 
 in sacred and profane history. He confesses that he 
 has only chosen one legend out of many. There is 
 little doubt, however, that he died in battle. But the 
 Persian poets assigned a very different fate to their 
 national hero, Kai Khusru, as his name stands in their 
 language. They will not allow that he died at all. 
 When he grew old, they say, he one day took leave of 
 his attendants on the banks of a pleasant stream, and 
 was seen no more. But, as in the case of Arthur and 
 Barbarossa, and all the great favourites of a nation, 
 
Cl ItU3. 
 
 39 
 
 they looked forward to liis coming again, more power¬ 
 ful and glorious than ever. 
 
 These Massagetae, says our author, resembled the 
 Scythians, but could fight on foot as well as on 
 horseback, their favourite weapon being, as with the 
 Anglo-Saxons, a battle-axe or bill. They had the 
 peculiar custom of sacrificing their old people, and 
 then feasting on them, and natural death was con¬ 
 sidered a misfortune. This curious people, whose 
 descendants may be now in northern or western Eu¬ 
 rope, knew nothing of tillage, and lived on flesh, fish, 
 and milk. Their only deity, known to Herodotus, 
 was the Sun. To him they sacrificed the horse, with 
 the notion that it was right to bestow the swiftest 
 of creatures on the swiftest of gods. The Persians 
 also attached a certain sanctity to some breeds of 
 horses, and the Teutonic conquerors of Britain bore a 
 horse as their cognisance. Some say that Hengist and 
 Horsa were not names of men, but only represented a 
 people using this national symbol. This rude heraldry 
 of our northern ancestors—or conquerors—may still 
 be traced in the “White Horse ” cut out on the chalk- 
 hills in more than one place on our Berkshire and 
 Wiltshire downs. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 EGYPT. 
 
 u In the afternoon they came unto a land 
 In which it seemed always afternoon.” 
 
 —Tennyson, “ Lotos-Eaters.” 
 
 Op all the nine boohs of Herodotus, the second, which 
 hears the name of the Muse “ Euterpe,” is incomparably 
 the one of deepest interest to the modern reader, as 
 giving glimpses, such as are found nowhere else but in 
 Scripture, of the infancy of the human race, and as 
 propounding important scientific problems, which can, 
 if ever, only find their solution in remote futurity. 
 It is, moreover, the portion of his work which is most 
 strongly stamped with the characteristics of the author’s 
 personality. It must ever be borne in mind that Herod¬ 
 otus is not a historian in the modern sense of the term. 
 He is the representative writer of a class who stand mid¬ 
 way between poetical annalists like Homer and critical 
 historians like Thucydides. They wrote their Iliads 
 in prose, making no sharp distinction between truth 
 and fiction. They did not yet look upon the verifica¬ 
 tion of their facts as a duty, but jotted down all that 
 they heard and saw, an instinctive love of truth alone 
 suggesting occasional scepticism as to very extraordinary 
 
EGYPT. 
 
 41 
 
 marvels, so that the modern reader may just observe 
 the dawning of the critical spirit. Predominantly in 
 his Egypt, Herodotus appears as the traveller and 
 archaeologist; nor is he fairly afloat on the current of 
 history until he launches himself into the narrative of 
 the Persian invasions of Greece, of the circumstances 
 of which he had more immediate knowledge—if not 
 as an eyewitness, yet from those who had themselves 
 been eyewitnesses. 
 
 Egypt has been in all ages the land of wonders, 
 from the time when its “magicians” found their en¬ 
 chantments fail before the mightier Power which Avas 
 with Moses, to that when Napoleon told his soldiers 
 that from the top of the Pyramids four thousand 
 years looked down on their struggle Avith the Mame¬ 
 lukes,—and to our OAvn day, Avhen a French engineer 
 repeats the feat of the old native kings and the Greek 
 Ptolemies, in marrying by a canal the Eed Sea to 
 the Mediterranean; an achievement Avhich Avill make 
 the name of Lesseps immortal, if the canal can only 
 be kept clear of sand. The civilisation of Egypt is 
 older than time—or at least, than its records. Her 
 kings Avere counted Avholesale—not by individuals, but 
 by dynasties, of which there Avere said to have been 
 thirty-one, exclusive of gods and heroes. She was 
 the mother of the arts to Greece, as Greece has been 
 to us. Her monuments are nearly as vast and as 
 seemingly indestructible as the everlasting hills them¬ 
 selves, and the study of her mere remnants seems to 
 present a field as inexhaustible as that of nature. No 
 Avonder that Herodotus Avillingly lingered in this in¬ 
 teresting country. He Avas no holiday traveller, but 
 one all ears and eyes, not likely to let any fact or 
 
42 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 object escape liim through carelessness or want of 
 curiosity. 
 
 The Egyptians were wont to boast that they were 
 the oldest people in the world; but our author says 
 that their king Psammetichus once put this to the 
 proof, and decided against them. Two infants were 
 kept carefully apart from human society, their attend¬ 
 ants being forbidden to utter a word before them. 
 Under these circumstances women as nurses were 
 out of the question, and they were suckled by goats. 
 [There was indeed a Greek version of the legend, 
 Avliich said that the children were nursed by women— 
 with their tongues cut out.] One day, when about 
 two years old, they came to their keeper, stretching 
 out their hands, and calling “Bekkos! bekkos!” 
 This being Phrygian for “ bread,” the palm of 
 antiquity was adjudged to the Phrygians. The test 
 was scarcely trustworthy, for probably enough the 
 cry was only an imitation of the bleat of the-goats. 
 It has indeed been claimed by etymologists as the 
 Sanscrit root “ pac” whence our word “ cook ” is said 
 to be derived. The Germans, again, recognise in it 
 their own “ bakken ” = bake.* 
 
 According to the priests, who were Herodotus’s chief 
 informants, the whole country except the district of 
 Thebes, seven days’ sail up the Nile from the sea, was 
 originally a swamp. To the truth of this our author 
 was ready to testify, as the whole Delta (called so from 
 the shape of the Greek letter A, our D) appeared to him 
 to be “ the gift of the river.” This formation certainly 
 required time, but he considered that the N ile was so 
 
 * Englishmen have suggested that it may have been a feeble 
 attempt to call for “breakfast." 
 
r 
 
 EGYPT. 
 
 43 
 
 energetic, that in ten thousand years (which is, after 
 all, a very moderate geological period) it might even 
 deposit alluvial soil enough to fill up the Arabian gulf 
 9f the Ked Sea. The priests appear to have given 
 nim very good data for supplementing his own obser¬ 
 vations on the physical phenomena of the country; and 
 in these details he evinces a patient investigation of facts 
 which would do credit to any age, however scientific. 
 He only becomes fanciful when he begins to speculate 
 on the unknown. With respect to the causes of the 
 annual inundations of the Nile, he could, naturally 
 enough, get no trustworthy information. It struck him 
 as particularly strange that the Nile, unlike other l ivers, 
 should begin to rise with the summer solstice, and 
 be in a state of flood for a hundred days afterwards. 
 Certain Greeks who affected a reputation for science 
 endeavoured to account for the phenomenon in three 
 ways. The third, which appeared to Herodotus the least 
 plausible explanation, was, that the Nile was swollen by 
 melting snows, though it flows through the torrid land 
 of the Ethiopians into Egypt—which seemed to him a 
 contradiction. Yet this theory was so near the actual 
 truth, that the inundations are caused by the summer 
 rains in the highlands of Abyssinia and on the equa¬ 
 torial table-land of Africa. That Herodotus had seen 
 an inundation of the river is tolerably certain, from his 
 description of the appearance of the country at such 
 times. He speaks of the towns and villages standing 
 out of the water “ like the islands in the AEgean Sea 
 a graphic picture, of which modern travellers have 
 recognised the truth. Adopting neither of the theories 
 which had been advanced, Herodotus modestly pro¬ 
 pounds one of his own, which is curious, but of no 
 
u 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 scientific value, as resting on false cosmographical 
 data. 
 
 As to the sources of the Nile, he says that he never 
 met with but one person who professed to know 
 anything about them. This was the registrar of the 
 treasury of Minerva at Sa'is; but when he began to 
 talk about two conical hills—“called Krophi and 
 Mophi ”—between Syene and Elephantine (below the 
 cataracts), Herodotus thought he could hardly bo 
 quite serious. Between those hills, said his in¬ 
 formant, lay the fountains of the Nile, of unfathom¬ 
 able depth. Half the water ran to Egypt, the other 
 half to Ethiopia. Psammetichus had tried to sound 
 them with a rope many thousand fathoms in length, 
 but there were such strong eddies in the water that 
 the bottom of the spring could never be reached. 
 Herodotus himself went up the Nile as far as Ele¬ 
 phantine—that is, did not get beyond the first cata¬ 
 ract ; and though he learnt much by inquiry as to the 
 country generally, he could throw no additional light 
 on the great question. But a story reached him 
 originally derived from certain Nasamonians—a people 
 inhabiting the edge of the desert—that once on a time 
 certain “wild young men,” sons of their chiefs, took 
 it into their heads to draw lots which of them 
 should go and explore the desert of Libya, and try to 
 get farther than any one had gone before. Eive of 
 their number set out, well supplied with food and 
 water, and passed first through the inhabited region, 
 then through a country tenanted only by wild beasts, 
 and then entered the desert, taking a direction from 
 east to west. After proceeding for many days ovei 
 a sandy waste, they came at last to a plain where 
 
EGYPT. 
 
 45 
 
 they found fruit-trees, and began to pluck the fruit. 
 While they were doing so, certain very small men 
 came upon them and took them prisoners. The Nas- 
 amonians could not understand them, nor make 
 themselves understood. They were led by them 
 across vast marshes, and at last came to a town where 
 all the inhabitants were black dwarfs like their cap- 
 tors. A great river flowed by the town from west to 
 east, abounding in crocodiles. And all the people in 
 the town were wizards. It was added that the ex¬ 
 plorers returned in safety from their perilous journey. 
 If the Bushmen now surviving at the Cape, and 
 formerly more extensively spread over Africa, were a 
 black race, which they are not, we might suppose 
 them to be the descendants of the little men spoken 
 of by Herodotus. Their colour may, however, have 
 been modified by the temperate climate of South Africa 
 in the course of long ages. The tribe of Dokos, in 
 the south-west of Abyssinia, are dwarfish, and answer 
 very nearly to Herodotus’s description. Herodotus was 
 inclined to identify the Nile with the river flowing by 
 the mysterious city.* 
 
 It is strange that the oldest geographical problem in 
 the world should be a problem still, though now prob¬ 
 ably in the course of solution. The nearest approach 
 to the truth appears to have been made by the Alex¬ 
 andrian geographer, Ptolemy, who had heard of cer¬ 
 tain lakes as the sources of the Nile, and placed them 
 some ten degrees south of the equator. The question 
 elumbered through the middle ages, and one affluent 
 after another was looked upon as the true Nile, till 
 
 * It was more probably, as Mr Rawlinson and Mr Blakesley 
 both think, the Niger, and the city may have been Timbuctoo. 
 
40 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 Bruce was for some time supposed to have set the 
 question at rest in the eighteenth century, by the 
 discovery of the source of the Blue River. Quite of 
 late years it was agreed again that the White River 
 was the main branch; and in 1857 Captain Speke, 
 setting out from Zanzibar, discovered the Victoria 
 Lake, whicli is now the farthest authenticated source 
 in an easterly direction, while Sir Samuel Baker’s 
 Albert Lake is the farthest authenticated source in a 
 westerly. Up to this time Speke and his companion 
 Major Grant are the only men who have actually 
 crossed Africa from south-east to north, and as yet the 
 honours of discovery must be supposed to rest with 
 them. 
 
 In treating of the wonders of Egypt, Herodotus 
 certainly exaggerates on some points from love of 
 paradox, as when he says that as the Uile differs from 
 all other rivers in its nature, so the Egyptians differ 
 from all other men in their habits, the men doing what 
 is usually considered as women’s work, and the women 
 men’s work; for in this he is refuted by the Egyptian 
 paintings, which represent each sex as usually engaged 
 in its proper occupation. But a Greek must have been 
 much struck with the comparative freedom of the 
 Egyptian women, so unlike the life of the Hellenic 
 “ lady’s bower,” or the Asiatic harem. Sophocles, in his 
 1 CEdipus at Colonus,’ has made a beautiful application 
 of this recorded contrast to the helpful piety of the 
 daughters and the selfish luxury of the sons of the 
 blind hero, which would seem to show that he wrote 
 the play fresh from the perusal of his friend’s Egypt. 
 
 Our author makes the observation that the Egyptians 
 were the first nation who, holding the soul to be immor 
 
EGYP T. 
 
 47 
 
 tal, asserted its migration after deatli through the whole 
 round of created beings, till it lived again in another man, 
 which occupied a cycle of three thousand years. This 
 doctrine of a “ circle of necessity ” was held alike by 
 Buddhists, Druids, and—if Josephus may be trusted 
 —by the sect of the Pharisees among the Jews. But 
 this Egyptian doctrine, which is profusely illustrated 
 on the tombs, suffered the wicked only to descend into 
 animals, while the good passed at once into a state of hap¬ 
 piness. A striking custom which Herodotus describes 
 would seem to show that to them, as to the Greeks, 
 the future existence was not a cheering prospect. 
 
 “ In the social banquets of the rich, as soon as the 
 feast is ended, a man carries round a wooden figure of 
 a corpse in its coffin, graven and painted so as to re¬ 
 semble the reality as nearly as possible, from one to 
 two cubits long. And as he shows it to each of the 
 guests, he says, “ Look on this, and drink, and be 
 merry; for when thou art dead, such shalt thou be.” 
 
 The “ skeleton at the banquet ” has pointed many 
 a moral for ancient and modern writers. St Paul may 
 have had it in mind when he quoted as the motto of 
 the Sadducee, “Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow 
 we die,” as well as Shakespeare, when he makes his 
 Hamlet moralise over Yorick’s skull—“Now get you 
 to my lady’s chamber, and tell her, let her paint an 
 inch thick, to this favour she must come.” 
 
 Herodotus considers that the names of the gods 
 came to Greece from Egypt, with the exception of 
 Poseidon (Neptune), Castor and Pollux, Here (Juno), 
 Hestia, Themis, the Graces and the Nereids. All 
 these the Greeks were said to have inherited from the 
 Pelasgians, with the exception of the sea-god Post i 
 
48 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 cion, with whom they became acquainted through the 
 Libyans. The Egyptians, unlike the Greeks, paid no 
 honour to heroes or demigods; for their god Osiris 
 (who corresponded to Bacchus) appeared on earth 
 only as a manifestation or Avatar of Deity. Amongst 
 the mythological marvels of the Egyptians, Herodotus 
 relates that they accounted cows as sacred to Isis, the 
 moon-goddess, represented with horns, and objected to 
 kill them as food—a practice which finds its parallel in 
 India at the present day. The sacredness of animals 
 generally, in Egypt, struck our traveller forcibly. Eor 
 each species there were certain appointed guardians, 
 who tended and fed them, and the office was heredi¬ 
 tary. To kill one of these sacred animals was a capital 
 offence, unless done accidentally, in which case a fine 
 was inflicted; but to kill an ibis or a hawk was death 
 without reprieve. Cats were so much respected that, 
 in case of a fire occurring, the Egyptians would let the 
 house be burnt before their eyes, all their attention 
 being given to saving the cats ; which, however, they 
 usually found Impossible, as the animals (no doubt in 
 terror at the well-meant efforts.of their friends) had a 
 trick of jumping into the flames. If they died, never¬ 
 theless, it was thought to be a terrible misfortune. When 
 a cat died a natural death, all the inmates of a house 
 went into mourning by shaving their eyebrows, and 
 they shaved their heads and their whole bodies when 
 a dog died. The dead cats were embalmed, and theii 
 mummies stored in the sacred city of Bubastis; but 
 the dogs were buried in their own cities, as were also 
 the ichneumons. The hawks and shrew-mice were 
 conveyed to Buto, and the ibises to Hermopolis. It 
 would seem by this that the animals about whose 
 
EGYPT : 
 
 49 
 
 funerals so mucli trouble was taken were more sacred 
 than the rest.* The crocodile, of which Herodotus 
 gives a description, perhaps as fairly accurate as could 
 he expected from an ordinary observer, was accounted 
 sacred by some of the Egyptians ; for instance, by the 
 people about Thebes, and those about Lake Mceris. 
 I n each of these places a tame crocodile was kept, who 
 v> ore ear-rings (or rather rings in the corresponding 
 holes) of glass or gold, and bracelets on his fore-paws. 
 Every day he had his ration of bread and meat, and 
 when lie died he was buried in a consecrated vault. 
 But the people of Elephantine, so far from canonising 
 these animals, thought them tolerable eating. 
 
 Herodotus gives a native receipt for catching croco¬ 
 diles. Bait a hook with a chine of pork, and let it 
 float to about the middle of the stream. Let a confed¬ 
 erate hold a living pig on the bank, and belabour him 
 lustily. The crocodile hears the pig squeak, and, mak¬ 
 ing for him, encounters the pork, which he swallows. 
 When the men on shore have drawn him to land, plug 
 his eyes with mud; after that, it is very easy to kill 
 him. This latter item of the receipt has a strong 
 affinity to an old precept about “ putting salt on a 
 bird’s tail.” A very similar mode of capture (with this 
 exception) is practised by the natives now. The name 
 “ crocodilos,” as the author observes, is Ionic Greek 
 for “ lizardthe Egyptians themselves calling the 
 animal “ champsa.” t He is somewhat mistaken in his 
 
 * Lane says that the modern Egyptians are remarkably kind 
 to animals. On one occasion a lady buried a favourite dog 
 with all the honours due to a good Mussulman, and houseless 
 cats are fed at the expense of the Cadi of the district. 
 
 1' Apparently an attempt to write the name msah, still to be 
 
 A. c. voh iii. I> 
 
50 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 account of the hippopotamus, no specimen of which 
 he appears to have seen. He gives it the hoof of an 
 ox, and the mane and neigh of a horse. 
 
 The sacred bird called the phoenix Herodotus confesses 
 he never saw except in pictures. Indeed it was rare 
 in Egypt, for it came hut once in five hundred years, 
 when the old phoenix died. According to the pictures, 
 it was like an eagle, with plumage partly red and partly 
 golden. The bird was said to come from Arabia, 
 bringing the body of his father enclosed in a ball of 
 myrrh, that he might bury it in the temple of the Suu. 
 Our author did not seem to be acquainted with that 
 other version of the phoenix fable, according to which 
 it returned from the east after a stated period to burn 
 itself in frankincense, and was again resuscitated. 
 The phoenix was an emblem of the soul and its sup¬ 
 posed migrations, and its journey to the east typified 
 the constant aspiration of the soul towards the sun. 
 Its period of migration referred to a solar cycle in the 
 Egyptian calendar. Pliny says that the name was 
 derived from a species of palm in Lower Egypt, which 
 dies down to the root and then is renovated. Ovid 
 makes the bird build its nest on a palm. In hieroglyphic 
 language the palm-bough is the sign of the year. 
 
 Amongst other wonders, our author had heard of 
 winged serpents, which flew across from Arabia, and 
 w T as induced to undertake a journey to the country 
 whence they came, where he says he saw some of their 
 bones. The ibises were said to destroy them as they 
 flew, w r hich caused this bird to be held in great honour 
 by the Egyptians. We are now in possession of the 
 
 traced in the Arabic temsah .—See Sir G. Wilkinson’s note, 
 Rawlinson, ii. 110. 
 
EGYPT. 
 
 
 probable key to tbis enigmatical story, which illustrates 
 both the simple faith and painstaking of our author, 
 and also the manner in which myths grow out of the 
 use of words. When scorpions or snakes appear in 
 large numbers in the houses in Upper Egypt, they are 
 supposed to be brought by the wind, and to all such 
 objects an Arabic word is applied which signifies to 
 fly. Herodotus doubtless saw pictures of a winged ser¬ 
 pent attacked by the ibis, but this bird typified the 
 god Osiris in the white robes of his purity, and the 
 winged serpent probably the Evil principle. The ibis, 
 however, is said to destroy snakes. His mention of 
 the harmless horned snakes at Thebes, which were 
 considered sacred, and buried in the temple, may suggest 
 the prolific subject of primeval serpent-worship. 
 
 The description which Herodotus gives of the man¬ 
 ners and customs of the Egyptians stamps them as 
 a highly civilised people. In the reverence paid by 
 young men to their elders, he considered that they 
 set a good example to the Greeks. In the medical 
 profession they recognised a minute division of labour, 
 some being oculists, others dentists, and so forth.* 
 Those who embalmed the dead (the “ physicians u 
 of the book of Genesis) formed a profession of them¬ 
 selves. He describes at length three methods of em¬ 
 balming (they had really many more), which were 
 adopted in order to suit the means of their customers, 
 as modern undertakers provide for funerals at different 
 tariffs. Amongst other local peculiarities, Herodotus 
 notices the lotus-eaters of the marsh-lands, who re¬ 
 mind us of those described by Homer in the voyage of 
 
 * “0 virgin, daughter of Egypt, in vain shalt thou use 
 mcuiy medicines.” —Jer. xlvi. fl. 
 
THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 Ulysses. But these latter—if tliey are to be identified 
 at all—are to be recognised rather in the lotus-eating 
 tribe whom our author mentions in a subsequent -book 
 as existing on the coast of Africa. Their lotus was pro¬ 
 bably a kind of jujube (Zlzt/pJius napeca). The Egyp¬ 
 tian lotus was a kind of water-lily, the centre of whose 
 blossom was dried, crushed, and eaten, as also its round 
 root. The seeds of another water-lily, whose blossoms 
 were like a rose, were also eaten, as well as the lower 
 stems of the byblus or papyrus, whose leaves were 
 used for paper and other purposes. The mosquitoes 
 were as great a nuisance in Egypt formerly as now. 
 Herodotus says that some of the natives, to avoid 
 them, slept on towers exposed to the wind ; but in the 
 marslijBS each man had a net, which served the double 
 purpose of catching fish by day and acting as a mos¬ 
 quito-curtain at night. 
 
 For the early history of the country Herodotus had 
 to depend upon his informants, who were usually the 
 priests, especially those of Heliopolis — the Greek 
 name by which he knew the oldest capital of Egypt, 
 Ei-h-re, the On or Aon of the Hebrew Scriptures—the 
 “City of the Sun.”* The college of priests there 
 was in fact the university of Egypt; and whatever 
 faith we may place in their historical records, their 
 proficiency in mathematics and astronomy was very 
 considerable indeed. They asserted that the first 
 
 * The “ Aven ” of Ezek. xxx. 17; translated into the Hebrew 
 B?th-shemesh—“ House of the Sun”—Jer. xliii. 13. The silt 
 of the Nile has now covered most of its monuments and build 
 ings, but its massive walls may still be traced, and a solitary 
 granite obelisk, said to be near 4000 years old, marks what was 
 the entrance to the temple of the Suu. 
 
EGYPT. 
 
 53 
 
 kings of Egypt were gods, “ who dwelt upon earth 
 with men.” The last of this divine dynasty was 
 Homs, son of Osiris—whom the Greeks identified with 
 Apollo. The sufferings and death of Osiris were the 
 great mystery of the Egyptian creed. Herodotus had 
 seen his burial-place at Sais, and knew the mysterious 
 rites with which, under cover of night, these sufferings 
 were commemorated. But he “will by no means 
 speak of them,” or even mention the god by name. 
 Either the priests had enjoined secrecy upon him 
 as the price of their information; or perhaps, being 
 himself initiated in the Greek Mysteries, he had 
 a scrupulous reverence for those of Egypt. Osiris 
 was the great principle of Good, who slew his bro¬ 
 ther Typhon, the representative of Evil; and is pic¬ 
 tured in the hieroglyphic paintings as the great judge 
 of the dead. The first king of human race was Men, or 
 Menes, the founder of Memphis, who began a line of 
 three hundred and thirty monarchs (including one 
 queen), whose names were read off to Herodotus from a 
 roll of papyrus. Eighteen were said to be Ethiopians. 
 Of most of these kings the priests professed to know 
 little more than the names; but Moeris, the last of 
 them, left his name to a large artificial lake, or reser¬ 
 voir, near the “ City of Crocodiles,” from which water 
 was conveyed to all parts of the neighbourhood. His 
 successor, Sesostris, is said to have conquered all Asia, 
 and even to have subdued Scythia and Thrace, in 
 Europe, marking the limits of his conquests by pillars 
 —two of which, in Palestine, Herodotus declares that 
 he himself saw.* Sesostris, after his return from his 
 
 * There is little doubt that these are the tablets still to ba 
 seen near Beyrout. 
 
THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 5t 
 
 conquests, n;et with somewhat too warm a welcome 
 from his brother, whom lie had left viceroy of Egypt, 
 lie invited the hero and his family to a banquet, 
 heaped wood all round the building, and set fire to it. 
 Sesostris only escaped by sacrificing (by the mother’s 
 advice) two of his six sons, whose bodies he used to 
 bridge the circle of flame. Having inflicted condign 
 punishment on his brother, he then proceeded to utilise 
 the vast multitudes of captives whom he had brought 
 with him. By the employment of this forced labour 
 he changed the face of Egypt, completely intersecting 
 it with canals, and filling it with public buildings of un¬ 
 paralleled magnificence. The second king after Sesos¬ 
 tris bore a Greek name, but must be regarded as a very 
 apocryphal personage—Proteus, who was said to have 
 entertained at his court no less famous a visitor than 
 Helen, the heroine of the Trojan war. For the Egyptian 
 priests had their version, too, of that wondrous Tale. 
 According to them, the Spartan princess was driven 
 by stress of weather do Egypt on her forced elopement 
 with Paris, while Troy was besieged by the Greeks, 
 in the belief that she was there. King Proteus, when 
 lie heard the story, gave Helen refuge, but dismissed 
 Paris at once with disgrace. Herodotus accuses Homer 
 of knowing this legend, which was a more probable 
 version of the story than his own, and suppressing it 
 for poetical purposes, since he speaks of the long wan¬ 
 derings of Helen, and of Menelaus’s visit to Egypt. 
 The priests told him that their predecessors had the 
 story from Menelaus himself, who went to Egypt to 
 fetch Helen, when he found, after the capture of Troy, 
 that she was not there. Herodotus himself saw in the 
 sacred precincts at Men phis a temple to “ Venus the 
 
EGYPT. 
 
 55 
 
 Foreigner,” whom his Greek patriotism at once iden¬ 
 tified with Helen. 
 
 A story told at considerable length by Herodotus of 
 the next king, Rhampsinitus, is highly characteristic, 
 showing that sympathy of the Greek mind for clever 
 rascality which recalls Homer’s manifest enjoyment of 
 the wily tricks of Ulysses in the ‘ Odyssey.’ The story 
 of “The Treasury of Rhampsinitus,” which has been 
 borrowed also by the Italian novelists, reads as if it 
 were taken from the ‘ Arabian Nights.’ 
 
 King Rhampsinitus, having vast treasure of silver, 
 built for its safe keeping a chamber of hewn stone, 
 one of whose walls formed also the outer wall of his 
 palace. His architect, however, having designs on the 
 treasure, built a stone into the wall, which even one 
 man who knew the secret could easily displace. He 
 did not live long enough to carry out his views, but on 
 his deathbed explained the contrivance to his two sons, 
 for whose sake, he said, he had devised it, that they 
 might live as rich men, since the secret would make them 
 virtual chancellors of the royal exchequer through their 
 lives. After his death, the sons profited by his instruc¬ 
 tions to remove a considerable sum. The king, when 
 next he came to visit the room, missed his money, finding 
 it standing at a lower level in the vessels. This hap¬ 
 pened again and again, though the seals and fastenings 
 of the room were as secure as ever. At last he set a 
 man-trap inside. When the thieves next made their 
 usual visit, one of them found himself suddenly caught. 
 Seeing no hope of escape, he called to his brother to come 
 and cut off his head, to prevent his being recognised. 
 The brother obeyed ; and, after replacing the stone, 
 made his way home with the head. When the king 
 
56 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 entered at day-break, lie greatly marvelled to see a head¬ 
 less trunk in the gin, while the building seemed still 
 to be fast closed all round. To find out to whom the 
 body belonged, he ordered it to be hung outside the 
 palace-wall, and set a guard to watch, and bring before 
 him any persons they might observe lamenting over it 
 The mother of the dead man, hearing of this desecra¬ 
 tion of a corpse that should have been a mummy, told 
 her surviving son that -unless he contrived to rescue it, 
 she would go and tell the king that he was the robber. 
 Wearied with her continual reproaches, at last the 
 brother filled some skins with wine, loaded them on 
 asses, and drove them by tho place where the guards 
 were watching the dead body Then he slily untied the 
 necks of some of the skins. The wine of course began 
 to run out, upon which he fed to wailing and beating his 
 head, as if distracted, and not knowing to which donkey 
 he should run first to stanch the wine. This highly 
 amused the guards, who ran eagerly to catch the wine 
 in all the vessels they could lay hands on. Then the 
 driver pretended to get into a passion, and abused 
 them, upon which they did their best to quiet him. 
 At last, appearing to be put in good-humour again 
 by their raillery, he gave them one of the skins to 
 drink. They invited him to help them with the 
 drinking, as they had helped him in putting the 
 skins in order. As the wine went round, all got more 
 and more friendly, till they broached another skin, and 
 at last the guards all got so drunk that they went to 
 sleep on the spot. In the dead of the night the thief 
 took down the body of his brother, laid it upon the 
 asses, and made off, having first remained long enough 
 to shave off the right whiskers of each of the men*- 
 
EGYPT. 
 
 57 
 
 which was considered a deadly insult. When the 
 king heard of this, he was more vexed than ever, and 
 determined to find out the thief at any cost. He hade 
 his daughter keep open house for all comers, and pro¬ 
 mise to marry the man who would tell her most tc 
 her satisfaction the cleverest and wickedest thing he 
 had ever done. If any one told her the story of the 
 robbery, she was to lay hold of him. But the thiei 
 was not to be thus outwitted.. He procured a dead 
 man’s arm, put it under his dress, and went to call on 
 the princess. When she put the question, he answered 
 at once that the wickedest thing he had ever done was 
 cutting off his brother’s head in the king’s treasury, 
 and the cleverest was making the guards drunk, and 
 carrying off’ his body. The princess made a grasp at 
 him, but in the darkness he left the arm of the corpse 
 in her hand and fled. But now the king was over¬ 
 whelmed with astonishment and admiration for the 
 man’s cleverness, and made a proclamation of free 
 pardon and a rich reward, if the thief would declare 
 himself. He boldly came forward, and Bhampsinitus 
 gave him his daughter in marriage. “ The Egyptians,” 
 he said, “ are the wisest of men, and thou art the wisest 
 of the Egyptians.” 
 
 Till the death of Bhampsinitus, Egypt enjoyed pro¬ 
 sperity. Cheops, who succeeded him, and who built 
 the Great Pyramid, is said to have shut up all the tem¬ 
 ples, that his people might do nothing but work for 
 him; and he kept a hundred thousand labouring at 
 a time, who were relieved every three months. It 
 took ten years to make the causeway (of which traces 
 still remain) for the conveyance of stones, and another 
 twenty to build the Pyramid itself. The next kings, 
 
5S 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 Chephren and Mycerinus (Mencheres), likewise built 
 j)yramids, but on a smaller scale. The memory of 
 Cheops and Chephren, in consequence of their oppres¬ 
 sions, became so odious to the Egyptians, that they 
 would not even mention their names; but upon My¬ 
 cerinus, though he was just and merciful, there fell 
 the punishment due for their sins. First he lost 
 his only daughter, and then an oracle told him that 
 he had but six years to live. He expostulated with 
 the oracle, saying it was hard that he who was a good 
 and righteous king should die early, while his father 
 and uncle, who were so impious, lived long. The oracle 
 answered—“ For that verv reason thou must die, for 
 Egypt was destined to suffer ill for one hundred and 
 fifty years, and thou hinderest the doom from being 
 fulfilled.” On this Mycerinus, finding it useless to be 
 virtuous, determined to outwit the gods; so he lighted 
 lamps at nightfall, and turned all the nights into days, 
 and enjoyed them, as well as the days, in feasting in all 
 pleasant places. Thus he lived twelve years in the space 
 of six, making his six years one long day of continuous 
 revel. The story of Mycerinus has been very happily 
 treated in one of Matthew Arnold’s earliest poems.* 
 
 “ I will unfold my sentence and my crime ; 
 
 My crime, that rapt in reverential awe, 
 
 I sate obedient, in the fiery prime 
 
 Of youth, self-governed, at the feet of Law, 
 Ennobling this dull pomp, the life of kings, 
 
 With contemplation of diviner things. 
 
 * Its moral—if it has any—may be found in Moore’s song, 
 
 “ And the best of all ways 
 To lengthen our days, 
 
 Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear.” 
 
EGYPT. 
 
 59 
 
 <l My father loved injustice, and lived long ; 
 
 Crowned with grey hairs he died, and lull of sway. 
 
 I loved the good he scorned, and hated wrong; 
 
 The gois declare my recompense to-day. 
 
 I looked for life more lasting, rule more high— 
 
 And when six years are measured, lo, I die !” 
 
 After him came a blind king named Anysis, during 
 whose reign Egypt was invaded by the Ethiopians, who 
 lorded it over the country for fifty years. He was suc¬ 
 ceeded by Sethos, a priest of Vulcan, who oppressed the 
 warrior caste, so that they refused to serve him when 
 Sennacherib, king of the Assyrians, invaded the coun¬ 
 try. But a vision in the sanctuary bid him be of good 
 cheer; and when he went out to the frontier with an 
 army of citizens, trusting in divine aid, a number of 
 field-mice came in the night and gnawed the bow¬ 
 strings, quivers, and shield-straps of the enemy, so that 
 the Egyptians easily defeated them. Such is the dim 
 tradition which reached the historian of the mysteri¬ 
 ous destruction of the Assyrian host recorded in the 
 Scriptures. The mouse, according to some interpreters 
 of hieroglyphic language, was the symbol of destruction. 
 Thus far Herodotus had derived his information as to 
 early Egyptian history entirely from the priests. He com¬ 
 puted that the reigns of these kings, as given him, would 
 require eleven thousand three hundred and forty years. 
 
 A revolution seemed to have occurred after the death 
 of Sethos, by which twelve provincial kings, like those 
 of the Saxon Heptarchy, reigned at once. Their great 
 work was a labyrinth near Lake Moeris, which struck 
 Herodotus as one of the wonders of the world—more 
 wonderful even than the Pyramids themselves. One 
 of the twelve, Psammetichus, at length managed to 
 
CO 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 depose tlie rest tlie aid of Greek mercenaries. Ki< 
 son, Neclios (Pharaoh Neclio), is credited by Herodotus 
 with the first attempt to construct the canal to the Tied 
 Sea, which was afterwards finished by Darius Hystaspes. 
 The canal, however, was more probably begun by Se- 
 sostris (Bameses II.), and there appears to be evidence 
 that it was choked by sand (which is still the diffi¬ 
 culty with modern engineers), and reopened many times 
 — by the Ptolemies, for instance, and the Arabs. 
 Necho is mentioned in Scripture as having defeated 
 and slain King Josiah at Megiddo on his way to 
 attack the Assyrians. Herodotus briefly notices the 
 victory, but calls the place Magdolus, after which lie 
 says that Necho took the city of Cadytis, supposed 
 to be either Jerusalem or Gaza. In a subsequent 
 expedition, which Herodotus does not mention, he 
 himself was defeated by Nebuchadnezzar, king of 
 Babylon, and lost all his conquests. He was succeeded 
 by his son Psammis, and his grandson Apries (the 
 Pharaoh-Hoplira of Jeremiah). The latter had a long 
 and prosperous reign; but failing in an attack on the 
 Greek city of Cyrene, his army revolted from him, and 
 chose Amasis, an officer who had been sent to reason 
 with them, for their king. Apries on this armed his 
 Greek mercenaries, amounting to thirty thousand men, 
 and went to meet the revolted Egyptians. In the battle 
 which ensued he was defeated and taken prisoner by 
 Amasis, who finally gave him up to his former subjects, 
 with whom he was unpopular, and they strangled him. 
 Amasis was a coarse but humorous character, rathei 
 proud than otherwise of his low origin. Finding that 
 his subjects despised him for it, he broke up a golden 
 foot-bath, and made of it an image of one of the gods. 
 
EGYPT. 
 
 61 
 
 which the Egyptians proceeded to worship. He then 
 told them what it was made of, adding that “■ his own 
 fortune had been that of the foot-pan thus anticipat¬ 
 ing the adage of Burns— 
 
 D O 
 
 “ The rank is but the guinea-stamp, 
 
 The man’s the gowd for a’ that.” 
 
 When his courtiers reproved his undignified revels 
 in his hours of relaxation, whereas none could com¬ 
 plain of his inattention to business, he met them with 
 the proverb, now common to most languages, that a 
 how becomes useless if not sometimes unstrung. His 
 habits were certainly open to remark. To find money 
 for his pleasures before he came to the throne, he 
 occasionally took to highway robbery. The oracular 
 shrines were the police-offices of those times, and Amasis, 
 like other thieves, was cited in such cases before the 
 nearest oracle. Some of them would acquit, others 
 find him guilty. When he became king, he honoured 
 the oracles which had detected him very highly, 
 but the others he despised. But he was a great king, 
 in spite of his failings ; and Egypt is said to have 
 prospered more under him than under any of his 
 predecessors. One of his laws was, that every man 
 should appear once a-year before the governor of his 
 department, and prove, on pain of death, that he was 
 getting an honest livelihood. Herodotus says that Solon 
 borrowed this law from the Egyptians, and that it was 
 in force at Athens up to his own days. If this be 
 true, it fell into disuse soon after his time, as the 
 Athenians enjoyed a reputation above all nations in 
 the world for “gracefully going idle.” We may at 
 least join in his remark, that this ordinance of Amasis 
 
03 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 was “ a most excellent custom,” towards which our 
 modern civilisation is making timid approaches. We 
 shall hear of this king again in connection with Polyc¬ 
 rates, the despot of Samos. 
 
 The account which Herodotus here gives of the kings 
 of Egypt, however interesting and entertaining, must 
 he read with the full understanding that its value in 
 a historical point of view is about the same as that of 
 Livy’s popular account of the early kings of Rome. 
 He was unacquainted v r ith the Egyptian language, and 
 though the priests may not have purposely imposed 
 upon him, he had to depend on the anecdotes which 
 came to him through the medium of the caste of drago¬ 
 mans who were settled at Memphis. In consequence 
 of this, the consecutiveness and general symmetry of 
 his account only serves to conceal some palpable mis¬ 
 statements. Perhaps the greatest is that which makes 
 the builders of the Pyramids later in time than the 
 builders of the temples and other monuments. Modem 
 investigations have tended to give great weight to the 
 authority of a native chronicler, spoken of with much 
 respect by early Christian writers, but who afterwards 
 fell into disrepute—Manetho, the high priest in the 
 days of Ptolemy Philadelphia. His record is utterly 
 fatal to the main facts of the account given by He¬ 
 rodotus. After dynasties of gods and heroes which 
 reigned more than sixteen thousand years, he brings 
 us to the builders of the Pyramids, whom Herodotus 
 places at a late period of his history, perhaps because 
 his Greek informants first became acquainted with the 
 monuments at Memphis itself. He was probably fur¬ 
 nished with two distinct lists of kings, both to a great 
 extent mythical, which he took to be separate and 
 
EGYPT. 
 
 03 
 
 successive dynasties. Cheops is almost certainly iden¬ 
 tical with Menes, the first human king of Herodotus, 
 in whose time was effected the canalisation of the 
 Delta. He is the traditional builder of the Great 
 Pyramid, and Chemmis (the Sun) appears as one of his 
 titles, at once connecting him with the sun-worship. 
 The Pyramids are supposed to have been built before 
 the time of Abraham, with the Pharaoh of whose times 
 Aelithoes of the 11th dynasty has been identified. The 
 name Pharaoh itself continues the title assumed by 
 Cheops, in its meaning of ‘‘children of the sun.” 
 
 The Mycerinus of Herodotus is found to resolve him¬ 
 self into two kings, the Mencheres who built the Pyra¬ 
 mids, and another much later king, of whom the story 
 of turning night into day is told ; a legend which may 
 have originated in the torch-light festival of Osiris and 
 Isis. Sesostris also resolves himself into two kings— 
 Sethos, the great engineer and builder, and Rameses II., 
 the great conqueror whose victories are recorded in the 
 temples at Karnak and Luxor, and whose fallen statue at 
 Luxor is the largest in the world. After him came Men- 
 ephthes or Amenonoph, who has been identified with the 
 Pharaoh of Exodus. The Shishak of Scripture has been 
 confounded with Sesostris, but he came far too late, and 
 is now identified with one Sesorchis. But the identi¬ 
 fication of any of these kings is as yet very uncertain. 
 
 Amongst other stories in the second book of Herod¬ 
 otus is one not quite presentable to the general reader, 
 about a Greek beauty of doubtful repute, named Rhod- 
 opis (“ Rosy-cheek ”), who had been brought as a slave 
 to Egypt, and who was said to have built one of the 
 Pyramids. Strabo embellishes her history by telling 
 how, when this lady was bathing, an eagle cariied off 
 
64 
 
 THE 111 STORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 one of her sandals, and deposited it before the king of 
 Egypt’s throne, who was so struck by the suggested 
 beauty of the foot which it fitted, that he sent for 
 her and made her his queen. Such is the venerable 
 antiquity of the story of Cinderella. 
 
 It is remarkable that Herodotus says nothing about 
 the Great Sphinx, which strikes all modern travellers so 
 forcibly, and which plays so prominent a part in the le¬ 
 gends of the Greek Thebes. He must have seen it, but 
 may have thought it (as he did other things in this mys¬ 
 terious country) “too sacred to mention.” Its composite 
 form is supposed to be emblematic of Nature, and con¬ 
 nected in some wav with the inundations of the Nile. 
 
 *j 
 
 This second book of Herodotus brings the history of 
 Egypt as an independent power to a close. It is an in¬ 
 exhaustibly rich mine of historical, arch geological, and 
 mythological wealth, on whose endless shafts and gal¬ 
 leries modern discovery is ever throwing some new light. 
 Formerly the deciphering of the hieroglyphic writing, in 
 which all Egyptian sacred records were kept, was looked 
 upon as all but hopeless, but since the key was supplied 
 by the discovery of the famous Rosetta stone, which bore 
 a Greek translation of its hieroglyphic inscription, scien¬ 
 tific patience has been abundantly rewarded. Religion 
 is essentially conservative, and older dialects and char¬ 
 acters are continued in her service long after they have 
 been superseded in secular use. We may cite as an 
 example the Church Sclavonic dialect of the north, so 
 valuable to philologists; the Sanscrit of India; the 
 Latin still in use in the Roman Catholic ritual. Even 
 in England we still use archaic characters for the in¬ 
 scriptions in our churches, but this is no doubt partly 
 because of their greater picturesqueness. 
 
CHAPTER IY. 
 
 CAMBYSES. 
 
 “ The race of mortal Man is far too weak 
 To grow not dizzy on unwonted heights.” 
 
 —Goethe, “ Iphigenia.” 
 
 As soon after the death of Cyrus as the Persian arms 
 were at liberty, we find them directed against Egypt. 
 The former alliance of that country with Lydia might 
 seem an adequate cause for the invasion, but it is too 
 prosaic for the taste of Herodotus. He makes Cam- 
 byses, the son of Cyras, march against Amasis because 
 he had practised on him a deceit something like that 
 of Laban towards Jacob, bv sending him as a wife the 
 daughter of the late king, Apries, instead of his own. 
 Cambyses was, at all events, no safe subject for a prac¬ 
 tical joke, and Amasis might have found to his cost 
 that he had jested once too often. 
 
 Having purchased a safe-conduct through the desert 
 by swearing brotherhood with the chief of the Arabs,* 
 —by a process much the same as that described by 
 modern African travellers, which consisted in the con¬ 
 tracting parties mixing a little of their blood,t—Cam- 
 
 * “The safe-conduct granted by the chief of the Bedouins,” 
 saj's Kinglake, “is never, I believe, violated.” 
 
 + “ Several of our men made brotherhood with the Wezecs, ami 
 A. c. vol. iii. 
 
 s 
 
66 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 byses set out for Egypt. But death had put Amasis 
 beyond the reach of all enemies, and his son Psammen- 
 itus now reigned in his stead. Dire misfortunes had 
 been portended to the country by the unusual pheno¬ 
 menon of a shower of rain at Thebes. After an obsti¬ 
 nate battle, Psammenitus was utterly routed. Herodo¬ 
 tus went afterwards over the field, and saw there the 
 bones of the Persians lying in one heap, and those of 
 the Egyptians in another. He remarked that the skulls 
 of the former might be broken by a pebble, while those 
 of the latter resisted even a large stone. This observa¬ 
 tion he afterwards verified by personal inspection of 
 another battle-field, where a Persian force was subse¬ 
 quently defeated by the revolted Egyptians under 
 Inaros. He attributes the difference to the Egyptians 
 going bareheaded in the sun, while the Persians wore 
 turbans. The Persians followed up their victory by 
 the capture of the city of Memphis and of Psammen¬ 
 itus himself, on which occasion our author introduces 
 one of his characteristic pathetic stories. Cambyses 
 wishing, says Herodotus, “to try the spirit” of his royal 
 prisoner, ordered Psammenitus and some of the captive 
 
 the process between Bombay and the sultan’s son, Keerenga, 
 may be mentioned. My consent having been given, a mat is 
 spread, and a confidential party or surgeon attends on each. 
 All four squat, as if to have a game at whist; before them are 
 two clean leaves, a little grease, and a spear-head ; a cut is made 
 under the ribs of the left side of each party, a drop of blood put 
 on a leaf and exchanged by the surgeons, who rub it with butter 
 twice into the wound with the leaf, which is now torn in pieces 
 and strewn over the “brothers’ ” heads. A solemn address is 
 made by the older of the attendants, and they conclude the 
 ceremony bv rubbing their own sides with butter, shaking 
 hands, and wishing each other success.”—Grant’s ‘Walk through 
 Africa, p. 108. 
 
CA MB YSES. 
 
 67 
 
 nobles to be brought out to the gates of the city. Then 
 he caused the deposed king’s daughter, and those of tlio 
 nobles, to be led past, in the dress of slaves, carrying 
 pitchers on their heads. The nobles wept at the sight, 
 but Psammenitus only bowed his head. Next fol¬ 
 lowed his son and two thousand other young Egyptians, 
 going to execution with ropes round their necks. The 
 people of Memphis had torn limb from limb the crew 
 of a ship which Cambyses had sent with a summons to 
 surrender, and this was his reprisal—ten for every man 
 murdered. The nobles again wept and wailed loudly, 
 but Psammenitus comported himself as before. P>ut 
 when he saw one of his former boon companions, an 
 old man now reduced to beggary, asking alms from the 
 soldiers, then his grief broke forth in tears, and he beat 
 himself on the head. Cambyses was amazed that he 
 should weep at the fate of his friend, and not at that of 
 his daughter or son, and sent to ask him the reason of 
 his strange conduct. Psammenitus answered, “ 0 son of 
 Cyrus, mine own misfortunes were too great for tears.” 
 Cambyses was sufficiently touched to order the life of 
 the young prince to be spared, but the reprieve came 
 too late. But from that time Psammenitus was treated 
 better, and might, as Herodotus thinks, had he shown 
 more tact, have been appointed governor of Egypt, 
 since it was the Persian custom thus to honour fallen 
 princes, even giving the kingdoms of rebel vassals to 
 their sons.* But he was unwise enough to plot rebel- 
 
 * "We have notable instances of this habit in Eastern mon- 
 archs recorded in Scripture. Jehoiakim is made king instead of 
 his brother Jehoahaz, by Pharaoh-Nechoh (2 Kings xxiii. 34) ; 
 Mattaniah instead of his nephew Jehoiachin, by Nebuchadnezzar 
 (2 Kings xxiv. 17). 
 
68 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 lion, and Cambyses, discovering this, put him to 
 death. 
 
 And now the son of Cyrus entered on that career of 
 impiety which was certain to have an evil end. He 
 had the body of his enemy Amasis, who had escaped 
 his vengeance while living, torn from its tomb, scourged, 
 and committed to the flames — an act horrible to 
 the Persians, who worshipped fire; horrible to the 
 Egyptians, who looked upon that element as a devour¬ 
 ing monster to whom it was impious to give their 
 dead. Then, according to Greek poetical justice, he 
 was seized by infatuation. He planned wild expeditions 
 ■—one against “ the Long-lived ” Ethiopians, who dwelt 
 far away to the south, and who might perhaps be iden¬ 
 tified with the modern Abyssinians (Heeren thinks, 
 with the Somalis) by certain characteristics,- such as 
 tall stature, regular though black features, and a great 
 love of animal food. Whoever they were, they are the 
 subject of one of our author’s most characteristic narra¬ 
 tives. Cambyses sent envoys to them—men of the 
 tribe of “ Eish - eaters,” who knew their language — 
 with presents for their king; a purple robe, a collar 
 and armlets of gold, and a cask of palm-wine, tokens 
 of his goodwill, as “the things in which he himself 
 most delighted.” The Ethiopian king—who was 
 elected for his stature and beauty — made answer 
 almost in the words of Joseph to his brethren : 
 “ Surely to search out the land are ye come hither.” 
 He asked how the purple robe was made; and when 
 they explained the mystery of the dye, he said that 
 the Persians’ garments, like themselves, were deceitful. 
 When told the purpose of the golden collar and armlets, 
 he chose to consider them as fetters, and remarked that 
 
Cu.m BYSES. 
 
 60 
 
 “ tlie Ethiopians made them stronger.” In fact, as 
 Herodotus declares, the envoys saw men afterwards in 
 prison actually wearing fetters of a metal which was 
 there so plentiful. Only the wine he highly approved 
 of, and asked what the king of Persia ate, and how 
 long men lived in that country. When he heard that 
 com was the staple food, and that it grew out of the 
 earth, and that eighty years was considered a long life, 
 he replied that he did not wonder at the king’s dying 
 so young if he “ate dirt,” and that nothing, he was 
 persuaded, could keep him alive even so long, except 
 that excellent liquor. He sent hack in return an 
 unstrung bow, with advice that, when the Persians 
 could find a man to bend it, they should then think 
 of attacking the “Long-livers.” 
 
 Against this distant tribe, however, the Persian king 
 set out with a vast army, without bestowing a thought 
 on his commissariat. Before he had accomplished a 
 fifth of the distance the provisions failed, but he still 
 pushed on. The army fed on the sumpter-beasts till 
 they were exhausted ; then on herbs and grass, till 
 they came to the sandy desert, where vegetation 
 ended. At last, when he heard of cannibalism in 
 the ranks, Cambvses thought it was time to return : 
 but he succeeded in bringing back only a small 
 remnant of his host. Another expedition, sent against 
 the temple of Ammon, in the great Oasis, fared even 
 worse, for no news came of it more. It perished, our 
 author thinks, in a sandstorm—more probably from 
 want of water. But Cambyses’ heart was hardened. 
 When he returned from his ill-starred march, he found 
 the Egyptians holding high festival. This greatly 
 incensed him, for he thought they were rejoicing at 
 
70 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 his defeat. But they were innocently celebrating the 
 incarnation of their national god Apis or Epaphus, 
 who was said to appear from time to time in the simili¬ 
 tude “of a calf that eateth hay/’ and whose “avatar” 
 in that form was denoted by certain sacred marks 
 known to his priests. Cambyses was still more 
 angry when he heard the real cause of this national 
 jubilee : he had the priests scourged all round, 
 forbade the people to rejoice on pain of death, and, 
 to crown all, fell on the sacred beast and wounded 
 him with his dagger, so that he pined away and died. 
 From this precise date, as the Egyptians averred, 
 the madness of Cambyses took a more decided char¬ 
 acter. But his acts, however unaccountable to a 
 Greek mind, seem to have been little more than those 
 of an Eastern despot of fierce passions and naturally 
 cruel disposition. First he had his brother Smerdis 
 put to death, and then he killed his sister because she 
 mourned for Smerdis. He had sent this brother back 
 to Persia because he excited his jealousy by being the 
 only Persian who could just move the Ethiopian’s 
 bow; and then, having dreamed that he saw Smerdis 
 sitting on his throne and touching heaven with his 
 head, he sent a nobleman named Prexaspes to Susa, 
 who slew him according to his instructions. The 
 story of the murder of the sister was differently told 
 by the Persians and Egyptians. The former said 
 that Cambyses, in the presence of his sister, had set 
 a puppy to fight a lion-cub. The dog was getting the 
 worst of it, when another of the same litter broke the 
 cord that tied him, and came “to help his brother,” 
 and both of them together mastered the young lion. 
 Cambyses was amused, but his sister wept, ami said that 
 she could not but think of Smerdis, who had no brother 
 
CA MB YSES. 
 
 71 
 
 to help him. For this speech he killed her. The Egyp¬ 
 tians said that the pair were seated at table, when the 
 sister took a lettuce, and, stripping its leaves off, asked 
 Camhyses whether it looked better with its leaves off or 
 on 1 He answered, “ With its leaves on.” “ Then why,” 
 said she, “ didst thou strip of its leaves the stem of 
 Cyrus ? ” A furious lack which followed this remark 
 was the cause of her death. In fact, Camhyses had 
 now become dangerous to all about him. Croesus, whom 
 he had brought with him to Egypt, had more than one 
 narrow escape. On one occasion officers were sent 
 to put him to death, but they, knowing their master’s 
 moods, only pretended to have done it, and produced 
 Croesus alive as soon as Camhyses was heard to regret 
 the order. He was well pleased that his friend had not 
 been killed, but the disobedience cost the guards their 
 lives. Another time he shot the son of Prexaspes 
 through the heart to prove the steadiness of his hand, 
 merely because the father had told him, in answer to a 
 •question, that the Persians said he was rather too fond 
 of wine. Probably for some similar offensive remark he 
 buried up to their necks twelve of his nobles—a cruel 
 process still practised in the East under the name of 
 “ tree-planting.” * And he grew more and more profane. 
 He opened tombs and unrolled mummies like a modern 
 
 * “ Feti- Ali-Shah once sent for Astra-chan, one of liis cour¬ 
 tiers, and with an appearance of great friendship took him round 
 his garden, showing him all its beauties. When he had finished 
 the circuit, he appealed to Astra-chan to know ‘ what his garden 
 still lacked?’ ‘Nothing,’ said the courtier; ‘it is quite 
 perfect.’ ‘I think differently,’ replied the king; ‘I must 
 decidedly plant a tree in it.’ Astra-chan, who knew the king’s 
 meaniug only top well, fell at his feet and begged his life, which 
 he obtained only at the price of surrendering to the king the 
 lady to whom lie was betrothed.”—Rawlinson, ii. 361, note. 
 
72 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 virtuoso. He made sport of the pigmy images of Pthah, 
 or Vulcan, whose ludicrous ugliness must have presented 
 the grim humorist with an irresistible temptation,* and 
 other sacred idols he burnt. Herodotus expresses him¬ 
 self much shocked at all this; but he might have 
 known that the Persians were in general iconoclasts. 
 It is possible that Cambyses was inspired with the 
 same destructive zeal which induced the more modern 
 Puritans to clear away the saints from the niches of 
 our cathedrals. But as a Greek, our author would 
 sympathise with the Egyptians. It is hard for us to 
 judge how far some of the cruelties reported of Cam¬ 
 byses may have been the invention of the outraged 
 priests. He has recorded, in another part of his work, 
 an anecdote which illustrates at once the character of 
 Cambyses and the general incorruptibility of the royal 
 judges of Persia. One of these, named Sisamnes, was 
 found to have accepted bribes. Cambyses, with the 
 facetious cruelty so common to tyrants of his type, 
 had him flayed, and his skin stretched over the seat' 
 which he had occupied while administering the law. 
 He then appointed his son to the vacant post, charging 
 him at the same time never to forget “ on what kind 
 of cushion he was sitting/’ 
 
 The modern reader will agree with Herodotus that 
 it is at least right to treat with delicacy the peculiai 
 usages of others. Aristotle quotes one of his anecdotes 
 to illustrate the opinion of those who held that, all 
 right and wrong were conventional. King Darius 
 Hystaspes called certain Greeks into his presence, 
 and asked them what they would take to eat their 
 dead fathers'? They said that they would do it foi 
 
 * See the woodcuts and note, Rawlinson, ii. 434- 
 
CA MBYSES. 
 
 73 
 
 no consideration whatever. Then he ashed a certain 
 tribe of Indians what they would take not to eat the 
 bodies of their fathers, but to burn them like the 
 Greeks'? They cried aloud, and begged him not to 
 blaspheme. So Sir John Lubbock, in his £ Prehistoric 
 Times/ relates that the Tahitians think it indecent 
 to dine in company; and that as soon as a child is 
 born he is accounted the head of his family, and takes 
 precedence of his father. And the tyranny of public 
 opinion in matters indifferent, of which we complain 
 so often, finds its strongest exemplification among the 
 semi-brutal savages of Australia. 
 
 The death of Smerdis had come to the knowledge of 
 but few persons in Persia, and while Cambyses was 
 absent in Egypt, tbe priest-caste of the Magi made a 
 bold attempt at a revolution. It is probable that 
 under Cyrus and Cambyses this caste, with their 
 peculiar tenets, had been discouraged. A certain 
 Magian, who was a kind of groom of the palace, 
 had a brother who resembled greatly the dead Smer¬ 
 dis, and who (according to Herodotus) bore the same 
 name.* Patizethes seated this brother on the throne, 
 and sent out a proclamation that henceforth all men 
 were to do homage to Smerdis the son of Cyrus, and 
 no longer to Cambyses. When Cambyses heard of 
 this, he thought that Prexaspes had not done his 
 errand, and that it was really his brother Smerdis who 
 had revolted against him; but Prexaspes satisfied him 
 that his orders had been duly executed, and that this 
 
 * The Beliistun inscription gives the name as Gomates, and 
 does not speak of two brothers. Mr Rawlinson seems to prove 
 dearly that the revolution was a religious one, though nothing 
 to that effect appears in Herodotus.—See his Essay, iii. 548. 
 
74 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 was a usurper personating the dead prince. He was 
 at once struck by remorse, seeing that his fratricide 
 had been useless, for his dream was so far fulfilled 
 that a man called Smerdis sat on his throne; and he 
 prepared to march at once in person to Susa to quell 
 the rebellion. As he was mounting his horse, the 
 knob of his sword sheath fell off, and the bare point 
 of the weapon pierced his thigh, exactly as he had 
 pierced with his dagger the god Apis. His wound 
 brought him to his senses, and he solemnly conjured 
 the Persian nobles to prevent the empire from pass¬ 
 ing to the Medes, confessing that he had killed his 
 brother Smerdis, and that therefore the present occu¬ 
 pant of the throne must be an impostor. The wound¬ 
 ed limb soon mortified, and Cambyses died in Egypt, 
 leaving no issue. Before his death, lie asked the name 
 of the village where he lav. He was answered that 
 it was called “ Ecbatana.” Then he knew that he 
 should die; for an oracle had long ago predicted that 
 he should die at Ecbatana,—which he naturally took 
 to be his own town in Media. The coincidence with 
 the death of our own Henry IY. in the “Jerusalem 
 chamber” is very curious. 
 
 “ It hath been prophesied to me many years 
 I should not die but in Jerusalem, 
 
 Which vainly I supposed the Holy Land ;— 
 
 But bear me to that chamber ; there I’ll lie,— 
 
 In that Jerusalem shall Harry die.”* 
 
 * ‘ Henry IV.,’ Part 2, Act iv. sc. 4 . 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 DARIUS. 
 
 “ In tlie theatre of the World 
 The people are actors all. 
 
 One doth the sovereign monarch play ; 
 
 And him the rest obey.”—C alderon. 
 
 The jealous hatred which Cambyses bore to his 
 brother Smerdis was so well known, that the Persians 
 did not believe his dying declaration that the person 
 who had seized his throne was an impostor. They 
 accepted him as the true Smerdis, son of Cyrus. Such 
 impostures are possible enough in a credulous age. A 
 false Demetrius plays an important part in the history 
 of Russia. There were many who disbelieved the fact 
 jf the two English princes having been smothered in 
 the Tower; and many more, at quite a recent date, 
 have believed that Louis XVII. escaped his jailers, 
 and grew up to manhood. The secluded life of an 
 Eastern monarch would give such an imposture addi¬ 
 tional chances of success. 
 
 The Magian usurper reigned for eight months under 
 the name of Smerdis, giving great satisfaction to most 
 of his subjects, for under him “ the empire was peace.” 
 He remitted the heaviest taxes, and enforced no raili- 
 
76 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 tary conscription. At last his imposture came to light. 
 Otanes, a Persian nobleman, whose daughter was one 
 of his wives, was informed by her that her husband 
 had no ears. Now the Magian was known to have lost, 
 his for some offence in the time of Cyrus.* The result 
 of this revelation was, that Otanes headed the famous 
 conspiracy of the seven nobles, of whom Darius, the 
 son of Hystaspes, sprung from a collateral branch of the 
 royal family, and probably the next legal heir, was 
 one. While they were concocting their plan of attack, 
 a tragical event happened which made immediate action 
 necessary. The Magians, knowing how cruelly Prex- 
 aspes had been treated by Cambyses,+ thought it 
 their interest to conciliate him, and prevailed upon 
 him to mount on a tower of the palace-wall, and make 
 a speech to the people below, who had grown suspicious, 
 to the effect that their present king was the true Smer- 
 dis, the son of Cyrus. But in this they made as fatal a 
 mistake as Shakespeare’s Brutus and Cassius did when 
 they allowed Mark Antony to speak at Caesar’s funeral. 
 Prexaspes, instead of lying to please the Magians, pro¬ 
 claimed aloud the real state of the case, and then threw 
 himself from the tower, and was killed on the spot. 
 
 * This is the mildest form of mutilation, as the feature seems 
 more ornamental than useful, except to those savage tribes in 
 whom the muscle that moves the ear is developed. It was prac¬ 
 tised in England as late as the seventeenth century, for such 
 offences as Nonconformity, Petty Treason, Libel, and the like. 
 Prynne is a well-known instance. It is common now in Africa, 
 and is said to give the head the look of a barber’s block, but to 
 be attended with no great inconvenience. The False Smerdis, 
 as has been said, never went abroad, and probably wore his 
 turban low on his head. 
 
 *t* See p. 71. 
 
DARIUS. 
 
 77 
 
 The seven conspirators gained the presence of the 
 false king and his brother with no great difficulty, but 
 within they met with such resistance that two were 
 badly wounded before they succeeded in despatching 
 them. The others cut off the Magians’ heads, carried 
 them forth, and showed them to the populace. A gen¬ 
 eral massacre of the Magian caste followed, which lasted 
 till the night. Few of them survived this St Bartho¬ 
 lomew of Susa. During the annual festival held hence¬ 
 forth under the name of Magophonia, which we might 
 call the “ Median Vespers,” none of the hated class 
 dared be seen abroad, though tolerated at other times. 
 
 The seven noblemen, according to Herodotus, now 
 resolved themselves into a debating societv, for the 
 purpose of discussing different forms of government. 
 That is to say, he here avails himself of an author’s 
 favourite licence to propound theories of his own. 
 His sympathies are plainly with democracy, but his¬ 
 torical exigencies obliged him to admit that mon¬ 
 archy was adopted. They agreed that one of the 
 seven should be king, and the rest his peers, having 
 free access to the royal presence on all but certain 
 stated occasions. It was then arranged that all should 
 ride their horses to an open place at sunrise, and 
 choose as king the man whose horse was the first to 
 neigh. This was really an appeal to the Sun, to whom 
 the horse was sacred. The omen fell to Darius, by the 
 cunning management of his equerry, and he was at once 
 hailed as king. When he was established in tin* 
 kingdom, he is said to have set up the figure of a man 
 on horseback, with a commemorative inscription. The 
 story may have been invented subsequently, to account 
 for this work of art, as often happens. 
 
78 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 Most valuable light lias been thrown on the history 
 of Darius by the discovery of the great Behistun in* 
 scription. On the western frontier of the ancient 
 Media there is a precipitous rock 1700 feet high, 
 which forms a portion of the Zagros chain, separ¬ 
 ating the table-land of Iran from the valley of the 
 Tigris and Euphrates. The inscription can oidy bo 
 reached with difficultv, as it is 300 feet from the 
 base of the rock. It is in three languages, — old 
 Persian, Babylonian, and Scythian,—executed, accord¬ 
 ing to Sir H. Bawlinson, in the fifth year of Darius, 
 B.c. 516. The wedge-shaped letters of the Persian 
 copy were deciphered with infinite pains by this great 
 archaeologist. Darius mentions in it, under the name 
 of Gaumata, a Magian who personated Bardes * (as lie- 
 calls him), the son of Cyrus, and says that he slew him 
 by the help of Ormuzd, the Good Spirit, and thus 
 recovered an empire that belonged to his own family, 
 restoring to the Persians the religion which they had 
 lost by the Magian intrusion. He also records that 
 after this he was engaged in quelling a general revolt 
 of the provinces. The main facts accord with those 
 of Herodotus, though there is some difference in the no¬ 
 menclature. The end of the inscription invokes a curse 
 on any one who might injure it, and this has probably 
 tended to preserve it; just as the curse on Shakespeare’s 
 monument, at Stratford-on-Avon, may have conduced 
 
 * The s, whether at the beginning or end of Persian names, 
 is commonly only a Greek addition. So Bardy(a)—the vowel 
 being pronounced though not written—is &merdis, Gaumat(a) 
 becomes Gomates, Vashtasp(a) Hystaspes, Sec .—See Bawlinson, 
 I. 27-29, note. 
 
DARIUS. 
 
 79 
 
 to prevent officious veneration from “ moving his 
 bones.” 
 
 Darius was the first monarch of Persia who regulated 
 the revenues, and assigned the sum that each satrapy- 
 ought to pay to the. royal treasury. This caused the 
 haughty Persian aristocracy to say of him, in their con¬ 
 tempt for red tape, that Cyrus had been a father to the 
 state, Cambyses a master, but Darius was “ a huckster, 
 who would make a gain of everything.” 
 
 There can be no question that Herodotus had access, 
 either personally or through friends, to the royal 
 records of Persia, or copies of them. He gives a com¬ 
 plete list of the various satrapies into which the 
 empire was divided, of the several subject nations 
 which it comprised, and the form and amount of their 
 tribute. The Persians themselves, it must be remarked, 
 like the Magyar grandees in Hungary formerly, were 
 exempt from taxation, and only bound to military ser¬ 
 vice. He says that the Indians, the most numerous 
 race of all, paid into the royal treasury three hundred 
 and sixty talents in gold dust, and that the whole an¬ 
 nual revenue was computed at fourteen thousand five 
 hundred and sixty talents, besides a fraction—more 
 than three millions and a half of our money. Put it 
 must be considered that this corresponds to the modern 
 Civil List, serving only to defray the expenses of the 
 Court. These Indians must not be supposed to be 
 those of the Peninsula, but rather those, of Scinde and 
 the Punjab. The gold which they brought into the 
 royal treasury was said to come from a great desert to 
 the eastward. In this desert there were ants—“ bigger 
 than foxes ”—and in their hills the gold was found. 
 To procure it the gold-hunters took camels, chiefly 
 
80 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS . 
 
 females with young ones, with which they proceeded 
 to the 'place at the hottest time of day, when the 
 ants were in their holes, filled their bags with the aurif¬ 
 erous sand, and then hurried back to escape the pur¬ 
 suit of the ants; the female camels leading the way, as 
 anxious to get back to their young ones. The exist 
 ence of these gigantic ants has been asserted by com¬ 
 paratively modern travellers, but it seems probable 
 that they must have been really ant-eaters, which 
 burrowed in the hills, and which some informants of 
 Herodotus may have seen. 
 
 Amongst the barbarian tribes in dependence on Per¬ 
 sia, he mentions one called the Padaeans, who, like the 
 Massagetae before mentioned, allowed none of their sick 
 to die a natural death. The horrible story is quaintly 
 told. “ If a man is taken ill, the men put him to death 
 to prevent his flesh being spoiled by his malady. He 
 protests loudly that he never felt better in his life ; but 
 they kill and eat him notwithstanding. So, if a woman 
 is ill, the women who are her friends do to her in like 
 manner. (The decent division of the sexes is worth re¬ 
 marking.) If any one reaches old age—a very uncom¬ 
 mon occurrence, for he can only do so on condition 
 of never having been ill—they sacrifice him to the 
 gods, and afterwards eat him.” Marco Polo, the 
 Venetian traveller, writing about 1500, found the 
 practice existing in Sumatra, where the relations as¬ 
 sembled in the sick man’s house, suffocated him, and 
 then ate him, as he describes it, “ in a convivial 
 manner.” Among other wonders he mentions Arabian 
 sheep (the forefathers, no doubt, of our “ Cape ” breed) 
 which had tails three cubits long, for which the shep¬ 
 herds made little trucks to keep them off’ the ground 
 
DARIUS. 
 
 81 
 
 — M eacli sheep having a truck of his own.” The 
 mention of remarkable countries and productions leads 
 Herodotus to observe that, while the Greeks have 
 the finest climate, as inhabiting the middle of the 
 earth, yet the farthest inhabited regions have the 
 finest productions — tin, amber, and gold coming, 
 for instance, from the ends of the earth; but in 
 respect of horses he gives the palm to the Nissean 
 breed of Media. Palgrave, in his Travels in Arabia, 
 speaks of the horses of Nedjid as the “cream of the 
 cream” of equine aristocracy. 
 
 Soon after the accession of Darius, one of his seven 
 fellow-conspirators, Intaphernes, got into trouble. lie 
 insisted on seeing the king during his hours of privacy, 
 and being denied, cut off the noses and ears of two of 
 the palace officials, and hung them round their necks. 
 This displeased the king so much that he condemned 
 Intaphernes and all the males of his family to death. 
 Hut Darius was touched with pity by the lamentations 
 of the wife of Intaphernes, and allowed her to choose 
 which of her family she would save. She chose her 
 brother — explaining, when the king showed some 
 astonishment at her selection, that such a loss could 
 not possibly be replaced, her father and mother being 
 dead. Pleased with her wit, Darius gave her the life 
 of her eldest son into the bargain. Sophocles adopts 
 the same curious sentiment in his tragedy of Antigone. 
 The general justice of Darius would lead to the suspi¬ 
 cion that the crime of Intaphernes was of the nature 
 of high treason, otherwise his family would hardly 
 have been involved in his punishment. 
 
 The story of Democedes, a famous surgeon of Cro- 
 tona, who was brought to Persia as a slave, is intro- 
 
 a. c. vol. iii. v , 
 
82 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 duced by Herodotus to find a motive for the attention 
 of the king being called to Greece. He had abundant 
 reasons besides, as the history shows ; hut our author 
 will not desert the theory of his choice, that Woman 
 is the mainspring in all human affairs. Democedes 
 had got into favour at court by successful treatment 
 first of Darius himself, then of Atossa the favourite 
 sultana. Dor this latter service he obtained leave to 
 name his own reward,—it was, to be allowed to visit 
 his home ; and, as Darius wished also to conquer 
 Greece, in order that Atossa’s desire of having some 
 of “ those Lacedaemonian handmaidens of whom she 
 had heard so much ” might he gratified, Democedes 
 was sent to make the tour of Greece and its colonies 
 on the Italian coast with a party of spies. When he 
 reached his native Crotona, he chose to remain there, 
 and was assisted by his fellow-townsmen against the 
 Persians who tried to take him hack with them. He 
 hade the latter tell Darius that he was about to he 
 married to the daughter of Milo the wrestler; wishing 
 the king to know that he was a man of some mark in 
 his own country, where—as in some cases amongst us 
 moderns—athletics ranked even higher than science. 
 These spies were said to have been the first Persians 
 who visited Greece. 
 
 But Darius had no time to think of Greece just 
 then, as his hands were full with a revolt in Baby¬ 
 lonia and other provinces, which appears to have 
 assumed larger proportions than those known to 
 Herodotus. Samos was the first state which was un¬ 
 fortunate enough to draw upon itself the might of 
 the Persian arms. The cause of this war was a cloak. 
 When Cambyses was in Egypt with his army, one 
 
DARIUS. 
 
 83 
 
 Syloson, brother of Polycrates of Samos, was also 
 there in exile. He appeared one day at Memphis in 
 a scarlet cloak, to which Darius, who was then a plain 
 officer of the royal guards, took a fancy, and asked the 
 wearer to name his price. Syloson, in a fit of gene¬ 
 rosity, begged him to accept it as a present; and it 
 had no sooner been accepted than he repented of his 
 good-nature. As matters turned out, the cloak of 
 Syloson became as famous as that of Sir Walter 
 Raleigh. Raleigh “ spoilt a cloak and made a for¬ 
 tune,” by spreading out his for Queen Elizabeth to 
 walk on; Syloson, by giving his away, led the way 
 to the ruin of his country. Eor when Darius came 
 to the throne, Syloson introduced himself at court as 
 the hero of the cloak, and Darius asked him what he 
 could do for him in return. He requested to be put 
 in possession of his late brother’s dominion in Samos. 
 Moeandrius, the secretary of Polycrates, who was at 
 present in possession, was a man who had had great¬ 
 ness thrust upon him. When Polycrates was murdered, 
 the secretary found himself in possession of Samos; and 
 wishing to be “ the justest of men,” set up an altar to 
 the god of Freedom, stipulating only that he should be 
 appointed its high priest as a condition of his establish¬ 
 ing democracy. Finding, however, that the “ Irre- 
 concilables ” of the period intended to prosecute him 
 for embezzlement, he had repented of his republican 
 generosity, and made himself master of the citadel and 
 city. Darius now sent out an expedition which put 
 his friend Syloson in possession of the island, but not 
 without an insurrection,' which led to a terrible mas¬ 
 sacre of the people. 
 
 Babylon, according to the Beliistun inscription, ro 
 
84 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 volted from Darius twice—once in the first and again 
 in the fourth year of his reign. It is difficult to iden¬ 
 tify with either of these occasions the revolt now 
 
 «/ 
 
 mentioned by Herodotus. According to his account, 
 —which in this instance must be regarded rather as 
 romance than history—so determined was the attempt, 
 t hat the Babylonians strangled most of their women, in 
 order to reduce their population, in preparation for the 
 expected siege. Darius soon sat down before the city, 
 but the walls defied his utmost power; and the besieged 
 began to jeer the Persians, telling them that “ they 
 would never take the city until mules foaled.” 
 However, in the twentieth month of the siege, a 
 mule belonging to Zopyrus, a Persian of rank, did 
 foal—an event perhaps not physically impossible; 
 md Zopyrus thought that there must have been 
 something providential in the taunt of the Baby¬ 
 lonians, and that now the city might be taken. The 
 sequel, whether true or not in an historical sense, is 
 singularly illustrative of the chivalrous self-devotion 
 of the Persian nobility in the interests of their mon¬ 
 arch. Zopyrus proceeded to cut off his own nose and 
 ears, dipt his hair close, got himself scourged, and in 
 that state presented himself to Darius, and laid his 
 plan before him.* Darius was greatly shocked at his 
 retainer’s maltreatment of himself, but as it was too 
 late to mend the matter, made the proposed arrange¬ 
 ment. Zopyrus was to pretend to desert to the Baby¬ 
 lonians, telling them that Darius had so ill-used him 
 because he had advised him to raise the siege. The 
 Babylonians would probably believe him, and intrust 
 
 * The town of Gabii, according to Livy, was taken by the 
 Romans by a very similar stratagem. 
 
DA RIUS. 
 
 85 
 
 liim with the command of a division. Darius must 
 then he willing to sacrifice a few thousands of his 
 worst soldiers to give the Babylonians confidence in 
 Zopyrus, who, when he had the game safe in his hands, 
 would open the gates to the Persian army. All turned 
 out according to the programme. Zopyrus admitted 
 the Persians, who took the city. Darius did his best 
 to destroy the formidable walls, and had three thou¬ 
 sand of the leading rebels impaled ; but not wish¬ 
 ing to depopulate the city, procured from the neigh¬ 
 bouring nations fifty thousand women to make up for 
 those whom the Babylonians had sacrificed. As for 
 Zopyrus, the king loaded him with honours and made 
 him governor of Babylon; but he was wont to say,— 
 more scrupulous than Henry IY. of France, who 
 changed his religion to procure the surrender of the 
 capital, thinking Paris “ well worth a mass,”—that he 
 would rather have Zopyrus mmmtilated than be master 
 of twenty Baby Ions. 
 
CHAPTER VL 
 
 ■' • 
 
 SCYTHIA. 
 
 “ They dwell 
 
 Tn wattled slieds on rolling cars alo 
 Accoutred with far-striking archer} 
 
 — ^Eschylus, “ Prometheus,” 
 
 Haying disposed of Babylon, Darius next bethought 
 himself of the Scythians. He had an old national 
 grudge against this restless race, for having overrun 
 Asia in the days of Cyaxares the Mede. The Behistun 
 inscription only mentions the quelling of a revolt of 
 the Sacse, or Scythian subjects of Persia; but Hero¬ 
 dotus speaks of an expedition on a vast scale against 
 the independent nation. 
 
 The Scythians were, according to Herodotus, a people 
 whose seat was in the steppes of northern Russia, 
 more widely spread than the present Cossacks of the 
 Don, but without any definite boundaries, sometimes 
 encroaching on their neighbours and sometimes en¬ 
 croached upon by them, like the Tartar hordes at 
 this day. Their name has been supposed by some 
 to be a synonym for “ archers.” Their habits were 
 very like those of the terrible Huns and Magyars 
 who overran part of Europe in the last agonies of 
 
SCYTHIA. 
 
 Home and afterwards ; but the difficulty of identify¬ 
 ing a modern and civilised race with an ancient and 
 barbarous one, is shown by the dissimilarity of the 
 handsome and chivalrous Hungarians with their hid¬ 
 eous and unkempt progenitors. They seem to have 
 inherited from them little besides their love of horse¬ 
 flesh—in the civilised sense. 
 
 That the Scythians disappeared from history, when 
 history itself was at its lowest ebb, is no proof that 
 they exist nowhere now. Their language, specimens 
 of which are given by Herodotus, undoubtedly be¬ 
 longs to that of the Indo-Germanic family. Their 
 connection with the Sacm is established. Some con¬ 
 nect the Sacae with the Saxons, others also with the 
 Sikhs of northern India. It would indeed be strange 
 if it were discovered from critical philology and ar¬ 
 chaeology that the English were pitted against their 
 cousins at Sobraon, Chilian wall ah, and Gujerat, and 
 recovered India through their aid afterwards ; and that 
 some of our Saxon ancestors were those who fought 
 best on the losing side at Marathon and Platoea. Cer¬ 
 tain it is that nearly all the now dominant races of 
 mankind seem to have swarmed, at longer or shorter 
 intervals, from some mysterious hive about or beyond 
 the Caucasus. History records some of the waves of 
 their western or eastern progress. Before the Scythi¬ 
 ans came a swarm of Cimmerians, sweeping over Asia 
 Minor in the time of the predecessors of Croesus. Their 
 name is still retained in the Crimea and Krim Tartarv. 
 They reappear as Cimbri in the latter days of the li<>- 
 man republic, to which they were very near giving the 
 finishing stroke. Then they are heard of in Schleswick 
 and Jutland, and in Wales it is just possible that at 
 
88 
 
 T1IE IUSTORY OF HEROD OTUS. 
 
 the present day they call themselves Cymry. Before 
 their coming a horde of Celts or Gauls had fallen on 
 Rome, and another invaded Greece later on, leaving 
 permanent settlements in Lombardy and Asia Minor. 
 
 In earlier history these tidal waves of population 
 came at long intervals, so that the damage they did 
 was reparable, and the silt they left behind them only 
 strengthened the ground ; but in the latter days of the 
 Roman Caesars, they succeeded one another so quickly 
 that the Empire was swamped, and when the disturb¬ 
 ance had subsided, the earth wore a face that was 
 strange and new. The repentant sons of those savage 
 children of the night, calling themselves English, 
 French, Germans, and so forth, are now endeavouring 
 to atone for their fathers’ delinquencies by painfully 
 diving after the relics of lost civilisations, and preserv 
 ing whatever they can find with religious veneration 
 for the use and delight of ages to come. By degrees 
 we are opening up Greece, Italy, Assyria, Persia, India, 
 Egypt, and discovering to our dismay that much of our 
 boasted civilisation is but a parody on what prevailed 
 centuries or millenniums ago; and that, with all our 
 culture, we have still much barbarism to unlearn. 
 
 The Scythians described by Herodotus, like the 
 Parthians who defeated the Roman legions, are a race 
 of archers on horseback. From them the Greeks may 
 have derived their fables of the Centaurs. As a pas¬ 
 toral people, they were generally averse to the tillage 
 of land, and moved about with their herds from one 
 Peding-ground to another, carrying their skin-covered 
 huts on carts. That the Sarmatians were allied with 
 them appears from the fable which traces their descent 
 
 to the union of Scythians with Amazons, those wonder 
 
 «/ / 
 
SCYTIIIA. 
 
 89 
 
 ful viragos whose manlike habits are still kept up by 
 tbe women of some Tartar tribes. 
 
 To account for the origin of the Scythians, Herodo¬ 
 tus gives two fables. According to one, a certain 
 Targitaus, a son of Jupiter, and grandson by his 
 mother’s side of the river Borysthenes or Dnieper, 
 was the first man in Scythia, He had three sons. 
 At first they were all equal, when there fell from 
 heaven four implements of gold—a plough, a yoke, a 
 battle-axe, and a goblet. The eldest approached to 
 take them, when they broke out iiko flames, and he 
 durst not touch them. The second was rejected in 
 like manner. The youngest fared better : he was able 
 to handle the gold and to carry it off. This was a 
 sign that he should be the king.* From the three 
 
 * A somewhat similar story was told to Speke by Rumanika, 
 king of Karagufe. 
 
 “ Before their old father Dagara died, he had unwittingly 
 said to the mother of Rogero, although he was the youngest 
 born, ‘ what a fine king he would make ; ’ and tire mother in 
 consequence tutored him to expect to succeed, although primo¬ 
 geniture is the law’ of the land, subject to the proviso, which was 
 also the rule with the ancient Persians, that the heir must have 
 been born after his father’s accession, which condition was here 
 fulfilled in the case of all three brothers. . . . Rumanika 
 
 maintained that Rogero was entirely in the w’rong, not only be¬ 
 cause the law 7 was against him, but the judgment of heaven 
 also. On the death of the father, the three sons, who only could 
 pretend to the crowm, had a small mystic drum placed before 
 them by the officers of state. It was only feather-weight in 
 leality, but being loaded with charms, became too heavy foi 
 those not entitled to the crown to move. Neither of the other 
 brothers could move it an inch, while Rumanika easily lifted b 
 with his little finger. ... He (Rumanika) moreover said 
 that a new* test had been invented in his case besides the ordeal 
 of lifting the drum. The supposed rightful heir had to plant 
 
90 
 
 TUE III STORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 brothers sprang the three Scythian tribes—the “ Koyal” 
 Scythians from the youngest. According to the other 
 legend, which emanated from a Greek source, Hercules, 
 when he was carrying off the cattle of Geryon (who 
 lived on an island near Cadiz in Spain), came to Scythia, 
 and being overcome by frost and fatigue, wrapt himself 
 in his lion’s skin, and fell asleep. When he awoke 
 his team of mares had disappeared. He wandered 
 in quest of them till he came to a country called the 
 Bush. Here he found in a cave a strange being, half 
 woman, half serpent, who detained him with her by 
 holding out hopes of his recovering his mares, which 
 she had caught and hidden.* Three sons were the 
 
 himself on a certain spot, when the land on which he stood would 
 rise up like a telescope drawn out till it reached the skies. If 
 he was entitled to the throne, it would then let him down again 
 without harm ; but if otherwise, collapse and dash him to pieces. 
 Of course as he survived the trial, it was successful. On another 
 occasion a piece of iron was found in the ground, about the shape 
 and size of a carrot. This iron could not be extracted by any 
 one but Kumanika himself, who pulled it up with the greatest 
 ease.”—‘Lake Victoria;’ a compilation from the Memoirs ol 
 Captains Speke and Grant. 
 
 * These legends of serpent-women are not uncommon in 
 German mythology. The following adventure is related by 
 the brothers Grimm ; “One Leonhard, who was a stammerer, 
 but a good fellow, and of irreproachable morals, lost his way 
 one day as he was visiting some underground vaults of the 
 nature of catacombs. All at once he found himself in a deli¬ 
 cious meadow, in the midst of which was playing a young girl, 
 half concealed by the herbage. She invited him to come and 
 rest by her side. Leonhard, out of pure politeness, obeyed her 
 eagerly, and then became aware of a fact which the long grass 
 had at first prevented his observing,—that the damsel, the upper 
 part of whose body was white and beautiful, terminated below 
 in a scaly and serpent-like tail. He wished to fly, but his legs 
 
SCYTHIA. 
 
 91 
 
 result of this strange intimacy—one called Agathyrsus, 
 the other Gelonus, the other Scythes. Hercules, on his 
 departure, left with the mother a how, and a belt with 
 a goblet attached to it. The son who could bend the 
 bow was to inherit the land, the others to emigrate. 
 Scythesj the youngest, bent the bow, and remained to 
 be the father of the kings of Scythia, which accounted 
 for the Scythian custom of wearing a goblet attached 
 to the girdle. 
 
 In describing the geography of Scythia, of which 
 
 were immediately caught and embraced by her tail. Thus 
 forced to listen, he now heard the poor creature’s history. She 
 was born a princess, and was enjoying court society, when a 
 malicious enchanter charmed her into her present state, from 
 which she could only be released on one condition, and that was, 
 that she could prevail on some fair young man, who must be 
 perfectly innocent, to give her three kisses. The youth must 
 not be older than twenty-two. There was time for Leonhard to 
 have fulfilled the conditions, for he would be twenty-three on 
 that very day—in two hours more. But, unfortunately, he 
 stammered, and the two hours were almost gone before lie 
 had made the necessar}” preliminary statement as to his birth. 
 Then he gave her the first kiss. Upon that she was seized with 
 violent convulsions, and rolled so wildly on the grass that he 
 fled in alarm. He was, however, recalled by her supplications 
 and promises, and gave her the second kiss. The effect of this 
 was still more electric than that of the first. Her eyes burned 
 like fire, she sprang up, her face glowed and her cheeks seemed 
 bursting; she whirled about like a demoniac, and hissed, shrieked, 
 and yelled like a very Melusina. Frightened out of his wits, the 
 youth rushed away through the meadow and catacombs till the 
 liideous object was out of sight; but after a time, reflecting 
 that he might have made his fortune and married a princess, he 
 turned to go back once more. It was too late; for, to his un¬ 
 speakable chagrin, he just then heard a village clock strike 
 twelve, which made him twenty-three years of age.—X. 1L 
 Saintine, ‘ La Mythologie du Rliin ’ (free translation). 
 
92 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 Herodotus probably knew no more than be may have 
 heard at the Greek factory at Olbia (near the site 
 of the modern Kinburn), he is carried away by the 
 interest of his subject, and launches out into a geo¬ 
 graphical digression, chiefly entertaining as a record 
 of ancient notions, and as showing how facts be¬ 
 come altered in passing from mouth to mouth. The 
 “Scythia” of Herodotus seems to embrace “the basins 
 of the Don, Dnieper, Dniester, and Boug, and the 
 northern half of that of the Lower Danube”*— Le ., a 
 great portion of Russia, Bessarabia, 'YVallachia, and 
 Moldavia. He tells strange stories of the tribes who 
 dwelt around Scythia, as far as the uttermost parts of 
 Europe. The Issedonians and the Andropliagi were 
 given to cannibalism ; the former, like the Callatian 
 Indians, feasting on their fathers, and keeping their 
 skulls set in gold as heirlooms. This custom was, 
 however, balanced with another, which would place 
 them, as some might think now, in the van of progress 
 •—they gave women equal rights with men. The 
 Heuri were said to change into wolves periodically; a 
 tradition which still survives in the “ wehr-wolf ” of the 
 Germans, and the “ loup-garou ” of the French. Liv 
 ingstone relates that there were men in the country 
 above the Zambesi who were supposed to become lions 
 for a term, and that the souls of great captains were 
 thought to pass into the king of beasts. But perhaps 
 the story rose out of the fact that the FTeuri wore wolf- 
 skins in winter. There were people in the extreme 
 north who slept six months in the year (Herodotus’s 
 informant may have said that there was night for six 
 months), and who had goat’s feet—that is, they may 
 
 * Heeren. 
 
SCYTHIA. 
 
 93 
 
 have worn moccasins. These may have suggested the 
 Satyrs of the Greeks. A common superstition aloo 
 placed a wonderfully good and happy people behind 
 the region of the north wind, called Hyperboreans. 
 So the “ blameless ” Ethiopians were supposed to 
 inhabit the extreme South. The Greeks believed in 
 goodness when a very long way from home. 
 
 Our author mentions slightly, and with some dis¬ 
 dain, the legend (known also to other writers) of one of 
 these Hyperboreans, Abaris, who was said to have been 
 even a greater traveller than himself-—who “ walked 
 round the world with an arrow, without once eating.” 
 But whatever may be thought of the latter part of 
 the story, it seems highly probable that in Abaris’s 
 “ arrow ” we have a dim tradition of the magnetic 
 needle. Its properties were certainly known to the 
 Chinese long before Herodotus’s date, and some 
 rumour of the marvel might have reached Europe. 
 The story tempts Herodotus into speculative cosmo¬ 
 graphy. He is dissatisfied with the map of Hecatceus, 
 who divided the habitable world into two equal por¬ 
 tions, Europe and Asia, making it like a medal, with 
 the great river of Ocean for a rim; not that he himself 
 at all suspected the world of being a sphere, like some 
 of the later ancients, but that he thought the distribu¬ 
 tion of the continents manifestly unsound. 
 
 If Herodotus had been in the habit of rejecting 
 every tale that he did not believe, like some later 
 writers, we should have lost the valuable passage 
 which seems to prove that Africa was circumnavigated 
 twenty-one centuries before the time of Diaz and Yasco 
 de Gama. Pharaoh Necho, after giving up the Suez 
 canal as hopeless, sent a fleet of Phoenician ships down 
 
94 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 the Red Sea, ordering them to return to Egypt by the 
 pillars of Hercules—that is, by the Strait of Gibraltar. 
 As these were their orders, it is to be presumed that 
 the route was already known. They spent three years 
 in accomplishing their task, as they had to sow graip 
 on the way, and wait for the harvest. Herodotus pro¬ 
 nounces their voyage apocryphal, because they reported 
 they had the sunrise on their right hand as they sailed 
 round Libya, but which proves indeed that they had 
 doubled the Cape of Good Hope. Sataspes, a Persian, 
 tried to sail round Africa in the other direction, but- 
 failed. He had got beyond Cape Soloeis (Spartel) to 
 a country inhabited by a dwarfish people, who dressed 
 in palm-leaves; and there, as he declared, the ship 
 stopped, and would go no further. He had evidently 
 fallen in with the southerly trade-wind, and was not 
 aware that, in order to proceed, he ought to have 
 pushed across towards the South American continent. 
 He met with a fate worse even than that of some later 
 discoverers : he was not only disbelieved, but put to 
 death on his return. Darius appears to have taken a 
 great interest in such discoveries, and it was he who 
 sent Scylax the Carian down the Indus to explore the 
 Indian Ocean .* 
 
 Amongst the strange customs which Herodotus re¬ 
 cords of the Scythians was their manner of keeping 
 the anniversary of the burial of then* kings. They 
 slew fifty young men and fifty choice horses, stuffed 
 
 * This Scylax, or more probably a later writer who traded on 
 his name, brought home some remarkable travellers’ stories. 
 He described an Indian tribe whose feet were so large that they 
 used them as parasols, and another whose ears were so capacious 
 that they slept in them.—See Rawlinson, l. p. 50, note. 
 
SC V TUT A. 
 
 9b 
 
 the "bodies of both, and set them up round the tomb 
 in a circle, the men mounted on the horses, a ghastly 
 body-guard for the royal ghost. Their great deity was 
 the god of war, whom they worshipped under the shape 
 of a scimitar The Russian or Turkish vapour-bath 
 would appear to have been another of their institu¬ 
 tions ; but Herodotus seems to confuse it with the 
 process of intoxication by hemp - seed, which was 
 known in early times. They were also distinguished 
 by drunkenness and dislike of foreigners, like some of 
 their supposed descendants, who are not yet cured of 
 these weaknesses. 
 
 Against this nation Darius is said by Herodotus to 
 have moved a vast army, bridging over the Thracian 
 Bosphorus and the Danube with boats, and taking with 
 him the Ionian tieet, to the custody of whose com¬ 
 manders he committed the bridge over the river, while 
 he passed on into the northern wildernesses. The 
 Scvthians retreated before him towards the Tanais or 
 
 V 
 
 Don. Then they led him such a long chase that at 
 last his patience was worn out, and he sent to their 
 king to demand that, as a man of honour, he should 
 either stand and fight, or deliver earth and water in 
 token of submission. The Scythian replied that ho 
 would soon send him some presents more to the 
 purpose. These arrived in due course of time—a 
 bird, a mouse, a frog, and five arrows. Darius at 
 first thought that this signified a tender of homage, 
 but Gobryas, one of the Seven, who had an older 
 head, read the hieroglyphic letter as follows : “ Un¬ 
 less you can fly like a bird, or burrow like a mouse, 
 or swim like a frog, you will not escape the Scyth¬ 
 ian arrows.” Darius took the hint and retreated. 
 
9G 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 But Scythian horsemen had reached his bridge before 
 him, and tried to prevail on the Ionians to destroy it. 
 Miltiades the Athenian, now tyrant of the Chersonese 
 (of whom we shall hear again), called upon his fellow- 
 Greeks to strike, once for all, a blow for freedom ; to 
 cut the bridge, and leave their Persian masters to 
 perish. But he was overruled in the interest of 
 Darius by Ilistiseus of Miletus, and the Persian army 
 returned without irretrievable loss from its military 
 promenade in pursuit of the impalpable Scythians. 
 Megabazus remained behind to reduce the Thracian 
 tribes in the neighbourhood of the Hellespont. 
 
 This leads our author to discuss the ethnology of 
 Thrace. It appeared to him that if its numerous 
 tribes had been only united, they would have been a 
 match for any existing nation. His Thrace must nearly 
 have comprehended the present limits of Eoumelia, Bul¬ 
 garia, Servia, Moldavia, and Wallachia. The Getae or 
 Goths, who were subdued by Darius on his way to 
 Scythia, believed that when they died they went to a 
 good spirit named Zalmoxis, to whom they sent-a mes¬ 
 senger every five years ; that is, they sacrificed a man 
 by tossing him in the air and catching him on points 
 of lances. Another tribe, when a child was born, sat 
 round him, bewailing the miseries he would have to 
 undergo; while in a case of death they made a jubilee 
 of the funeral, believing the departed to have attained 
 everlasting happiness. The same belief was connected 
 with a custom in another tribe corresponding to the 
 “Suttee” of the Hindoos. When a man died there 
 was a sharp contention amongst his widows which was 
 the worthiest to be slain over his grave, and the sur¬ 
 viving wives considered themselves as in disgrace, 
 
SCYTUIA. 
 
 97 
 
 They marked high birth by tattooing, like the South 
 Sea Islanders; and thought idleness, war, and plunder 
 honourable, but agriculture meau. The nation in gen¬ 
 eral worshipped only the gods of battle, of wine, and 
 of the chase. But the kings paid especial honour to a 
 god corresponding to Hermes or Mercury, or the German 
 'Woden. Less was known of the tribes north of the 
 Danube. The Sigynnse wore a dress like that of the 
 Medes, and possessed a breed of active, hardy, shaggy 
 ponies, the description of which answers to those of the 
 Shetland Islands. Or possibly some vague rumour of 
 the harnessed dogs of Kamskatka may have reached 
 the ears of our author. He does not think that the 
 Thracians could have been correct in saying that a 
 tract of country beyond the Danube was so infested 
 with bees as to be uninhabitable, as bees cannot bear 
 much cold. They may have meant mosquitoes. 
 
 Megabazus was now commissioned to transport 
 bodily to Persia the whole tribe of the Paeonians, who 
 lived to the north of Macedonia, of whose industry 
 Darius had conceived an exaggerated notion, by seeing 
 one of their women at Sardis bearing a pitcher on her 
 head, leading a horse, and spinning flax all at the same 
 time. He effected this task with no great difficulty; 
 but other tribes resisted his arms with success, and espe¬ 
 cially those who inhabited the Lake Prasias. These 
 must have been a relic of the most ancient population 
 of Europe. Their habits were precisely the same as 
 those of the singular people whose whole manner of 
 life has been brought to light by the discovery of 
 ancient piles in the lakes of Zurich in Switzerland, 
 and who appear to have inhabited nearly all the 
 comparatively shallow lakes that have hitherto been 
 a. o. vol. iii. a 
 
98 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 examined. This pile - city of Prasias is thus do* 
 scribed:— 
 
 “ Platforms supported on tall piles were fixed in the 
 midst of the lake, approached from the land by a 
 single narrow bridge. Originally all the citizens in com¬ 
 mon drove the piles for the platform, but afterwards 
 every man drove three piles for every wife he married, 
 and they had each several wives. Each man had his 
 own hut on the platform, and his trap-door opening 
 through the scaffolding on the lake below. They tied 
 the little children by the leg to prevent their rolling 
 into the water.” (The proportionate number of chil¬ 
 dren’s bones found in the Swiss lakes would argue that 
 this custom was but negligently observed in those 
 regions.) “ They fed their horses and other cattle 
 upon fish, of which there was such an abundance that 
 they had only to let down a basket through the trap¬ 
 door into the water, and draw it up full.” 
 
 What was the ultimate fate of this amphibious 
 colony we do not learn; but very many of the cor¬ 
 responding settlements in central Europe bear traces 
 of having been destroyed by fire. For the present 
 these lake-people were impregnable, and Megabazus 
 turned his attention to Macedonia, sending first to the 
 court of King Amyntas an embassy of seven noble 
 Persians to demand earth and water. Amyntas enter¬ 
 tained them at a feast; but when their attentions to the 
 ladies of the court began to be offensive, his son Alex¬ 
 ander, indignant at the insult, dressed up some Mace¬ 
 donian youths to personate the ladies, whom he had 
 managed to withdraw under promise of their return, 
 and assassinated the Persian envoys when heavy with 
 wine. An expedition was afterwards sent to inquire 
 
SCYTHIA. 
 
 99 
 
 after tlieir fate, but Alexander conciliated the com¬ 
 mander with hush-money and the hand of his sistei 
 in marriage. The royal family of Macedonia were ot 
 Argive origin, according to Herodotus ; otherwise, he 
 says, they would not have been allowed to contend at 
 the Olympic games. This Greek descent was used 
 subsequently by Philip of Maced on as a plea for his 
 intervention in the affairs of Greece. 
 
 A casual notice of the founding of Cyrene leads 
 Herodotus into Libya, whither we have no space to 
 follow him. He touches on the known North African 
 tribes, and glances at the unknown, relating many 
 marvellous stories; in fact, his love for anthropology 
 and geography makes him seize any excuse for im¬ 
 parting information. He wellnigh exhausts the world 
 as known to the ancients, and might have wept, as 
 Alexander did that he had no more worlds to con¬ 
 quer, that he had no more to describe. Of one remote 
 and apocryphal region he confesses he knew nothing. 
 He was not sure that the islands called the Cassiter- 
 ides (“Tin-Islands”) had any real existence; but he 
 had been told that tin came “from the ends of the 
 earth.” Such is the sole notice which the great tra¬ 
 veller has left of us or our ancestors; for it is probable 
 that the Oassiterides were the coast of Cornwall. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE TYRANTS OF GREECE. 
 
 jB 
 
 u If gods will not misfortune send. 
 
 List to tlie counsel of a friend : 
 
 7 
 
 Call on thyself calamity ; 
 
 And that, from all thy treasures bright. 
 
 In which thy heai-t takes most delight, 
 
 Commit forthwith to deepest sea.” 
 
 —Schiller, “ Ring of Polycrates.” 
 
 • • 
 
 The original constitution of most of the Greek States 
 was a limited monarchy, though the king was emphati¬ 
 cally “ hedged by divinity,” since the founder of his 
 family was generally supposed to be a god. In time, 
 as the royal prestige wore out, this constitution was 
 generally superseded by an oligarchy, which lasted 
 until some ambitious individual, by courting the un¬ 
 privileged classes, managed to raise himself to the 
 supremacy. 
 
 In the fifth century before Christ there were so 
 many of these usurpers at the same time in Greece, 
 that it has been called the Age of Tyrants. Mr Grote 
 j)refers to call them “despots but the name matters 
 little if no sinister meaning is necessarily attached to ' 
 the word Tyrant. Their number at one time was a 
 fact in support of those who believe in social and 
 
THE TYRANTS OF GREECE. 
 
 101 
 
 political epidemics. One of the most famous of them 
 was Polycrates of Samos. He was great in arms and 
 arts, and the poet Anacreon was the companion of his 
 revels, just as Goethe enjoyed his Rhenish with Charles 
 Augustus, the jolly Grand-Duke of Weimar. His pros¬ 
 perity was so perfect, that his friend King Amasis of 
 Egypt, as a prudent man, thought it his duty to give 
 him a solemn warning, and advised him to avert the 
 anger of the gods by sacrificing some object which 
 he held very precious. Polycrates chose out of his 
 abundant treasures a favourite emerald ring, which he 
 at once threw into the sea. Eive or six days after¬ 
 wards, a poor fisherman caught so magnificent a fish 
 that it struck him that it was only fit to set before a 
 king. To Polycrates, therefore, he presented it, with 
 many compliments. The tyrant, with his usual geni¬ 
 ality, made it a condition that the fisherman would 
 come and help him to eat it. He bashfully accepted 
 the honour. When the fish was served, behold ! the 
 emerald ring was there in its inside. The servants 
 were exceedingly glad that the king’s lost ring was 
 found—possibly they had been charging each other 
 with stealing it; but Polycrates looked serious, for 
 he felt that the gods had rejected his offering. He 
 thought it right to inform his friend Amasis of the 
 result. Amasis, with less generosity than foresight, 
 at once sent a herald to Samos to renounce the alli¬ 
 ance of Polycrates, as he felt sure that the gods had 
 decreed his ruin, and did not wish to be himself 
 involved in it. The tale of the fisherman and the 
 ring has been transferred to Arabian fable. 
 
 Fortune still continued to smile on Polycrates, and 
 he overcame all his enemies by force or fraud. Some 
 
102 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 Samians, whom he had driven out, managed to set on 
 foot against him an expedition from Lacedaemon. 
 The visit of these people to Sparta is characteristically 
 told. They made a long speech there in the assembly, 
 which they would have hardly done if they had known 
 the Spartan temper better. The authorities made re¬ 
 ply that they had forgotten the first half of their dis¬ 
 course, and could not understand the second. The 
 Samians then held up an empty bag, merely remark¬ 
 ing, “The bag wants flour.” The Spartans said that 
 the word “ bag ” was quite unnecessary—the gesture 
 was enough. However, they sent a force to Samos to 
 support the exiles; and Poly crates is said to have 
 bribed them to return with leaden money gilt over. 
 The existence of the story is singularly illustrative of 
 the avarice as well as the gullibility of this people. 
 
 But the doom of Poly crates could only be deferred. 
 Towards the end of the reign of Cambyses, he was un¬ 
 fortunate enough to excite the cupidity of Oroetes, the 
 Persian satrap of Sardis, who proceeded to set a trap 
 for him. Oroetes said that he feared the covetousness 
 of Cambyses, and offered to deposit all his treasure with 
 Polycrates. The latter sent his secretary to inspect it, 
 who was shown some large chests full of stones, just 
 covered with gold. Satisfied with this report, in spite 
 of all the warnings of his daughter, Polycrates staited 
 for the court of Oroetes to fetch the treasure. The satrap 
 at once arrested him, put him to a cruel death, and 
 then impaled his dead body. But the murderer after¬ 
 wards came to a violent end himself in the reign of 
 Darius. 
 
 Another specimen of a tyrant, and this, too, in our 
 common acceptation of the word, was Periander of 
 
T1IE TYRANTS OF GREECE. 
 
 103 
 
 Corinth, the son of Cypselus. By his origin he was 
 partly patrician and partly plebeian. At one time the 
 government of Corinth was in the hands of a single 
 family called the Bacchiadse, who only intermarried 
 with one another. But one of them happened to 
 have a daughter called, from her lameness, Labda (from 
 the Greek letter A (L), which originally had one leg 
 shorter than the other), whom her parents were, on 
 this account, obliged to marry out of the family to one 
 Aetion, a man of the people. In consequence of oracles 
 which boded ill to Corinth from a son of Aetion, the 
 rulers sent ten of their number to despatch the in¬ 
 fant as soon as he was born. When they came and 
 asked to see the child, Labda showed it them, thinking 
 their visit was only complimentary. They had agreed 
 that whoever took the child first in his arms should 
 dash it on the ground. Providentially, however, the 
 babe smiled in the man’s face who had taken him, so 
 that he had no heart to kill it, but passed it on to his 
 neighbour, and he to another, and so it went through all 
 the ten. When the mother had carried the child 
 indoors again, she overheard the party outside loudly 
 reproaching one another with their faint-heartedness 
 in not making away with it. Fearing from this that 
 they would return, she hid the child away in a chest 
 or corn-bin, so that when they re-entered they could 
 not find him. From this escape be was called Cyp¬ 
 selus or ‘ Bin.’ When he grew up he made himself 
 despot of Corinth, and ruled harshly, visiting the 
 citizens with confiscations, banishment, and death. 
 He reigned thirt y years, and then his son Periander 
 succeeded him, who, at first, was a mild ruler, until 
 he sent to Thrasj btilus, despot of Miletus, to ask him 
 
104 
 
 T1IE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 the "best way of governing his people. Thrasybulus 
 took the Corinthian herald forth into the fields, and 
 as he passed through the corn, still questioning him 
 about Corinthian affairs, he snapped off and threw away 
 all the ears that overtopped the rest. He walked 
 through the whole field doing this, till the damage 
 was considerable. After this he dismissed his visitor 
 without a word of advice. When the messenger 
 returned to Periander, he said that he had been sent 
 on a fool’s errand to a madman, who gave him no 
 answer, but only walked through a field spoiling his 
 wheat by plucking off all the longest ears.* Periander 
 said nothing ; but he understood the meaning of Thra¬ 
 sybulus, which was, that he was to govern by cutting 
 off all the foremost citizens. After this he became a 
 much worse tyrant than his father, and finished the 
 work which he had begun. On one occasion he 
 stripped all the women of Corinth of their clothes. 
 Having sent to consult an oracle of the deadf about 
 some lost property, the shade of his wife Melissa 
 (whom he had put to death) appeared to him, and 
 said that she was cold, and had literally nothing to 
 put on ; for the robes buried with her were of no use, 
 since they had nol been burnt. So he made proclama¬ 
 tion that all the matrons should go to the temple of 
 Juno in full dresS, and there having surrounded them 
 
 * The English reader will remember the words of the gardener 
 in Shakespeare :— 
 
 “ Go thou, and like an executioner, 
 
 Cut off the heads of too fast-growing sprays, 
 
 That look too lofty in our comm on wealth." 
 
 — ‘Richard II.,’ Act. iii. sc. 4. 
 
 t Hence the word “necromancy.” The parallel of Saul, the 
 witch of Endor, and the ghost of Samuel, is at once suggested. 
 
THE TYRANTS OF GREECE. 
 
 105 
 
 with his guards, took all their clothes from them, and 
 burnt them as an offering to his dead queen. 
 
 The relations of Periander with his younger son 
 Lycophron form one of the most touching episodes in 
 1 lerodotus. The lad had learnt the fact of his mother’s 
 murder, and from that time would neither speak to his 
 father nor answer him. The father at last banished him 
 from his house. He even sent warning to the friends 
 with whom his son took refuge, that all who harboured 
 him did so at their peril—nay, that any who even spoke 
 to him should pay a fine to Apollo. The lad Avandered 
 miserably from one to the other, and at last Avas found 
 lying in the public porticoes. Then Periander himself 
 Avent to him, and upbraided him Avith his folly in de¬ 
 priving himself by his obstinacy of a princely home. 
 Lycophron only ansAvered by reminding his father that 
 he had iioav himself incurred the forfeit to the god. Per¬ 
 iander saw that the case Avas hopeless, and sent him to 
 Corcyra for safe keeping. But Avhen he found himself 
 growing old, and unequal to the cares of government, 
 and saAV that his elder son Avas quite incompetent, 
 he sent to offer to resign in Lycophron’s favour. Ho 
 reply came. Then the father sent his favourite sister 
 to treat with him, and try to soften his heart. Lyco¬ 
 phron’s ansAver Avas that he Avould never set foot again 
 in Samos Avhile his father lived. Periander humbled 
 himself so far as to offer to retire himself to Corcyra, 
 and allow the son to take his place. To this Lycophron 
 agreed ; on hearing Avhich the people of Corcyra mur¬ 
 dered him, in dread of receiving as their master the 
 I errible Periander. 
 
 A pleasanter story in connection Avith him will bo 
 best told, as nearly as may be, in the old historian’s 
 
the history of iifrodotus. 
 
 H>G 
 
 own words, with a little retrenchment of his dif¬ 
 fuseness. 
 
 Arion and the Dolphin. 
 
 In Periander’s days there lived a minstrel of Lesbos, 
 Arion by name, who was second to none as a player on 
 the lute. This Arion, who spent most of his time with 
 Periander, sailed to Italy and Sicily, and having earned 
 by his minstrelsy great store of treasure, hired a Corin¬ 
 thian ship to go back to Corinth—for whom should he 
 trust rather than the Corinthians, whom he knew so well. 
 When the crew were out at sea, they took counsel 
 together to throw Arion overboard, and keep his treas¬ 
 ure. But he divined their intent, and besought them 
 to take his money, but spare his life. But the ship- 
 men refused, and bade him either straightway kill him¬ 
 self on board, so that he might be buried on shore, or 
 leap into the sea of his own freewill. Then Arion, 
 being in a sore strait, begged, since it must be so, that 
 he might don his vestments, and sing one strain stand¬ 
 ing on the quarterdeck ; and when he had ended his 
 song he promised to despatch himself. [He asked to 
 put on his sacred garb, knowing that thereby he should 
 gain the protection of Apollo.] The seamen consented, as 
 well pleased once more to hear the master of all singers, 
 and made space to hear him, withdrawing into the 
 midship; and he chanted a lively air, and then plunged 
 overboard, all as he was. So they sailed away to 
 Corinth, and thought no more of Arion. But, lo ! a 
 dolphin took the minstrel up on his back, and landed 
 him safely at the promontory of Tsenarus in Laconia, 
 whence he made his way to Corinth, all in his sacred 
 robes, and told there all that had befallen him. But 
 
TTIE TYRANTS OF GREECE. 
 
 107 
 
 Periander did not believe him, and kept him under 
 guard. At last the shipmen came, and when Periander 
 asked them what had become of Arion, they said they 
 had left him safe and sound at Tarentum, in Italy. 
 Then Periander produced Arion in his vestments, just 
 as he was when he leapt overboard, and they were 
 struck dumb, and could deny their guilt no more. 
 And Arion set up, as a thank-offering to the god, an 
 effigy of a man riding on a dolphin. 
 
 Such is the legend given by Herodotus. Another 
 version makes Apollo appear to Arion in a dream, 
 assuring him of succour before he leapt overboard, 
 and adds that, after landing, the bard neglected to 
 put back again into the sea his preserver, who con¬ 
 sequently perished, and was buried by the king of the 
 country. When the sailors came, they were made to 
 swear to the truth of their story on the dolphin’s tomb, 
 where Arion had been previously hid. When he sud¬ 
 denly appeared, they confessed their guilt, and were 
 punished by crucifixion, for the double crime of rob¬ 
 bery with intent to murder, and perjury. Arion and 
 his bearer afterwards became a constellation, by the will 
 of Apollo, according to a later addition to the legend. 
 
 It is not impossible that the legend of Arion grew out 
 of the group of the man on the dolphin, which may have 
 been set up to commemorate the expedition which 
 sailed from Laconia to found Tarentum, comprised of 
 Dorian and Achaean Greeks; the dolphin, sacred to 
 Neptune, symbolising the Achaean element, and the 
 minstrel, loved of Apollo, the Dorian. The legend of 
 f -olston, the munificent Bristol merchant, whose anniver- 
 
103 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 sary is still celebrated at Bristol, is well known in the 
 west of England. A ship in which he sailed was said 
 to have sprung a leak, which was miraculously plugged 
 by a self-sacrificing dolphin, and so the ship came home 
 safe. Some rationalists have volunteered the prosaic 
 explanation that Colston was saved and brought home 
 in another vessel called the Dolphin. One of the 
 charitable societies formed in his honour bears the 
 name of the “ Dolphin.” The sacred character of this 
 fish (or rather "cetacean) is doubtless of remote anti¬ 
 quity. He is tlie subject of a little poem (exquisite 
 in the original) by Philip of Thessalonica. 
 
 The Dolphin and the Nightingale. 
 
 “ Blaming Boreas, o’er the sea I was flying slowly, 
 
 For the wind of Thrace to me is a thing unholy, 
 
 When his back a dolphin showed, bending with devotion, 
 And the child of aether rode on the child of ocean. 
 
 I am that sweet-chanting bird whom the night doth smile 
 at ; 
 
 And like one that kept his word proved my dolphin pilo/ - 
 As he glided onward still with his oarless rowing, 
 
 With the lute within my bill I did cheer his going. 
 Dolphins never ply for hire, but for love and glory, 
 
 When the sons of song require ; trust Arion’s story.” 
 
 There is also a beautiful version of the legend by 
 the Boman poet Ovid. 
 
 Cleisthenes of Sicyon was another eminent tyrant, 
 and a magnificent man in every way. lie had ono 
 beautiful daughter named Agariste, through* whom des¬ 
 potism was fated to receive its death-blow in Athens. 
 Like the Orsinis and Col on n as of medieval Rome, 
 
THE TYRANTS OF GREECE. 
 
 109 
 
 whose feuds gave Eienzi his opportunity to establish 
 democracy, the patrician families of the Isagorids and 
 Alcmoeonids strove for supremacy at Athens, and their 
 strife gave birth to freedom. Herodotus gives a quaint 
 account of the foundation of the great wealth of the 
 latter family. 
 
 Alcmaeon, the son of Megacles, had assisted Croesus 
 in his negotiations with the Delphic oracle, and was 
 invited in consequence to the court of Sardis. When 
 he had arrived, Croesus gave him leave to go into the 
 treasury and take as much gold as he could carry away 
 on his person at one time. So he put on the largest 
 tunic he could find, so as to make a capacious fold, and 
 the roomiest buskins. First he stowed his boots with 
 gold dust, then he packed his clothes with it, then he 
 powdered his hair with it, and lastly he took a mouth¬ 
 ful of it, and so came out of the treasury “ dragging 
 his legs with difficulty, and looking like anything 
 rather than a human being, as his mouth was choked 
 up, and everything about him wms in a plethoric state.” 
 When Croesus saw him he was highly amused, and 
 gave him what he had taken and as much again. 
 When Alcmaeon came home to Athens he found him¬ 
 self rich enough to enter as a competitor at the great 
 Olympic games, and win the blue ribbon of that 
 national festival—the four-horse chariot-race, which 
 made the winner a hero in the eyes of his countrymen 
 for ever. 
 
 Two generations afterwards this family made a splen¬ 
 did marriage. Cleisthenes of Sicyon had added 
 this to his renown, that he too had been a victor 
 at Olympia. Under these circumstances he was not 
 inclined to throw away a beauty and heiress like his 
 
110 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 daughter Agariste on the first comer, hut, like the 
 father in Goldoni’s “ Matrimonio per concorsohe pro¬ 
 claimed that she should he wooed and won hy public 
 competition. He invited all the most eligible youths 
 in Greece to come and spend a year at his court, pro¬ 
 mising to give his decision when it had elapsed; and 
 lie prepared an arena expressly for the purpose of test¬ 
 ing their athletic proficiency. Among the suitors was 
 the exquisite Smyndyrides of Syharis, the most luxu¬ 
 rious man of the most luxurious Hellenic city. It was 
 he who was said to have complained of the crumpled 
 rose-leaf on his couch, and to have fainted when he 
 once saw a man hard at work in the fields. He would 
 certainly have broken down in the athletic ordeal, 
 hsot so Males, the hi other of Titormus, a kind of hu¬ 
 man gorilla of enormous strength who lived in the 
 wilds of Hitolia; but he would scarcely have been 
 polished enough as a son-indaw for Cleisthenes. And 
 the father might be loath to intrust his daughter to the 
 son of Pheidon, the despot of Argos, a man notorious 
 for rapacity and violence. The two Athenian candi¬ 
 dates, Megacles son of Alcmseon,* and Hippocleides, a 
 member of the great rival family, were probably the 
 favourites from the first; for it is hard to imagine that 
 there was no betting on an occasion so tempting to 
 the sporting characters of antiquity. Cleisthenes having 
 first ascertained that his guests could give satisfactory 
 references, made proof of their manhood, their tempers, 
 their accomplishments, and their tastes,—sometimes 
 bringing them altogether, sometimes holding private 
 
 * The son in this family took the grandfather’s name : Mle¬ 
 gacies, Alcmreon, Megacles, Alcnueon, and so on. This whs 
 A lcmieon II. 
 
THE TYRANTS OF GREECE. 
 
 Ill 
 
 conversations with each. Although gymnastics were 
 very important, he seemed to have laid most stress on 
 their qualities as diners-out. The man who at the 
 end of the year seemed, in the opinion of all, to have 
 the best chance, was Hippocleides, who indeed was 
 connected with the royal Cypselids of Corinth, as well 
 as an Athenian of the highest fashion. When the 
 great day arrived for the suitors to know their fate, 
 Cleisthenes sacrificed a hundred oxen, and gave a pub¬ 
 lic feast, to which he invited not only the foreign 
 suitors, but all his own people. After the feast there 
 was one more trial in music and in rhetoric,—probably 
 to see how the suitors could carry their wine. As the 
 cup went round, Hippocleides, abashing the rest of the 
 party by his assurance, called to the flute-player to 
 strike up a dance. Then he danced, in a manner which 
 gave perfect satisfaction to himself, though Cleisthenes 
 began to look grave. Next he ordered a table to be 
 brought in, mounted on it, and rehearsed certain Laco¬ 
 nian and Attic figures. To crown all, he stood on his 
 head and kicked his legs in the air. This last per¬ 
 formance, which Hippocleides might perhaps have 
 learnt in his youth from the street-boys of the Piraeus, 
 was too much for Cleisthenes, who had long contained 
 himself with difficulty. u Son of Tisander, thou hast 
 danced away thy marriage,” he exclaimed, in fierce 
 disgust. The other quietly answered, “Hippocleides 
 does not care ! ” from which “ Hippocleides don’t care ” 
 became a proverbial expression. Then, as Herodotus 
 tells us, Cleisthenes rose and spoke to this effect:— 
 
 “ Gentlemen, suitors of my daughter,—I am well 
 pleased with you all—so well pleased that, if it were pos¬ 
 sible, I would make you all my sons-in-law. But as 1 
 
112 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 have hut one daughter, that is unfortunately impossible. 
 You have all done me much honour in desiring the 
 alliance of my house. In consideration of this, and of 
 the inconvenience to which you have been put in 
 wasting your valuable time at my court, I beg to present 
 you with a talent of silver each. But to Megacles, 
 the son of Alcmreon, I betroth my daughter Agariste 
 tc be his wife according to the usage of Athens.” 
 
 The issue of this marriage was Cleisthenes, the great 
 Athenian reformer, who was named after his maternal 
 grandfather. 
 
 Pisistratus, the despot of Athens, has been already 
 mentioned as contemporary with Croesus. He Avon 
 immortality by digesting the poems of Homer into a 
 consecutive whole,—settling, as it were, the canon of the 
 Greek Scriptures. His rule Avas just and mild, until his 
 enemies forced greater seA r erity upon him in his latter 
 days. He Avas succeeded by his son Hippias. An abor¬ 
 tive attempt to assassinate this prince Avas made by two 
 men bound together by the tie of romantic friendship 
 peculiar to the Greeks, Harmodius and Aristogeiton. 
 This pair have always been celebrated as model patriots 
 by the admirers of tyrannicide; but they bungled in 
 their business by slaying the Avrong brother, Hipparchus 
 instead of Hippias, and only provoked Hippias to ster¬ 
 ner measures of repression. At last the Alcnneonids, 
 groAving weary of exile, made such strong interest Avith 
 the god of Delphi that his oracle continually urged the 
 Spartans to expel the Pisistratids. The clan, after a 
 long struggle, Avere compelled to quit Athens, and re¬ 
 tired to Sigeium, on the Hellespont, having selected 
 this asylum as most convenient for intriguing with the 
 Court of Persia for their restoration. They had ruled in 
 
THE TYRANTS OF GREECE. 
 
 113 
 
 Athens from b.c. 560 to b.c. 510, which was about the 
 date of the expulsion of the kings from Rome. They 
 traced their origir to Codrus and Melantlius, semi- 
 mythical kings of Attica, and remotely to the Homeric 
 Nestor of Pylos, after whose son Pisistratus the great 
 ruler of Athens was named. 
 
 A festival song in honour of the famous tyrannicides 
 was long the “ Marseillaise ” of republican Athens :— 
 
 The Sword and the Myrtle. 
 
 I’ll wreath with myrtle-bough my sword, 
 
 Like those who struck down Athens’ lord, 
 
 Our laws engrafting equal right on— 
 
 Harmodius and Aristogeiton. 
 
 Harmodius dear, thou art not dead, 
 
 But in the happy isles, they say, 
 
 Where fleet Achilles lives for aye, 
 
 And good Tydeides Diomed. 
 
 I’ll wreath my sword with myrtle-bough. 
 
 Like those who laid Hipparchus low, 
 
 When on Athene’s holiday 
 
 The tyrant wight they dared to slay. 
 
 Because they slew him, and because 
 They gave to Athens equal laivs, 
 
 Eternal fame shall shed a light on 
 Harmodius and Aristogeiton. 
 
 k. c. vol. iii. 
 
 H 
 
1 
 
 CHAPTER Virt 
 
 IONIa. 
 
 u 0 for a tongue to curse the slave, 
 
 Whose treason, like a deadly blight. 
 
 Comes o’er the counsels of the brave. 
 
 And blasts them in their hour of might! ’’ 
 
 —Moore, “ Fire-Worshippers.” 
 
 Darius had not forgotten the good service done him by 
 Histiseus of Miletus, in preserving the Danube bridge 
 for him on his hurried retreat from the Scythian expe¬ 
 dition. He had given him a grant of land in Thrace, 
 in a most desirable position for a new settlement. 
 But he was afterwards persuaded that he had done 
 wrong. A shrewd Greek would be tempted to form 
 there the nucleus of an independent power. He there¬ 
 fore sent for Histiseus, and detained him in an honour 
 able captivity in his own court at Susa. And this 
 detention led to the great Persian war. 
 
 There was a revolution in the little island of Naxos. 
 “ The men of substance,” as they were literally called, 
 were expelled, and came to Miletus begging Arista g- 
 oras, now deputy - governor in the absence of his 
 father-in-law Histiseus, to restore them. Thinking to 
 get Naxos for himself, Aristagoras procured the aid of 
 
IONIA. 
 
 115 
 
 a Persian flotilla. On the way, a quarrel arose about 
 a Greek captain whom Megabates, the Persian admiral, 
 had punished, because he found no watch set on board 
 his ship. The punishment consisted in binding him 
 down so that his head protruded from one of the ports 
 or rowlocks, and Aristagoras had taken upon himself 
 to release him. Megabates, in dudgeon, sent to warn 
 the Naxians, who were to have been surprised, and the 
 expedition failed. Then Aristagoras, finding himself 
 unable to pay the expenses of the armament, as had 
 been stipulated, thought of securing his position by 
 the desperate expedient of stirring up a revolt at 
 Miletus against Persia. He was confirmed in this 
 resolution by the arrival of a singular courier from. 
 Histiaeus, who was determined at any cost to escape 
 from the forced hospitalities of Susa. Histiaeus had 
 taken a slave, shaved his head, punctured certain letters 
 on the bare crown, then kept him till the hair was 
 grown, and sent him to Aristagoras with merely the 
 verbal message that he was to shave his head. When 
 Aristagoras had played the barber, he found that the 
 living despatch bore the word “ revolt.” 
 
 His first step was to proclaim democracy throughout 
 the Greek confederacy. The different despots were 
 given up to their fellow-citizens, to be dealt with ac¬ 
 cording to their deserts. It speaks strongly in favour 
 of the character of their “tyranny,” that nearly all 
 were dismissed uninjured. One only—Coes of Mytilene 
 — was stoned to death. Aristagoras then set sail for 
 Sparta to seek for aid. That state at this time en¬ 
 joyed the singular constitution of a double monarchy. 
 This may have bad some mythological connection 
 with the legend of the twin sons of Leda, Castor and 
 
110 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 Pollux, who became sea-gods, from whom the con¬ 
 stellation of the Gemini was named; but Herodot J »s 
 assigns to it a different origin. 
 
 His tradition is that when the sons of Hercules 
 reconquered their heritage of the Peloponnese, one of 
 their three chiefs, Aristodemus, had the kingdom of 
 Sparta for his share. His wife gave birth to twins 
 just before his death. The boys were much alike; 
 and the mother, hoping that they might both be 
 kings, protested that she did not know them apart. 
 The Spartans were puzzled; and the Delphic oracle 
 gave an answer which hardly mended the matter, 
 except so far that it satisfied the mother. 
 
 “ Let both be kings, but let the elder have more honour.” 
 
 But which was the elder 1 that was the question. At 
 last it was suggested that a watch should be set to see 
 which the mother washed and fe^. first. If she acted 
 on system, the case was clear. The espionage suc¬ 
 ceeded ; the elder was discovered, and named Eurys- 
 thenes, and the other Procles. The two brothers, when 
 they grew up, were said to have been always at vari¬ 
 ance, and their separate lines continued so ever after. 
 The two kings had peculiar duties, rights, and privi¬ 
 leges, but lived in the same plain way as other citizens. 
 
 When Aristagoras arrived at Sparta, he was admit¬ 
 ted to an audience with the senior king, Cleomenes. He 
 showed him a bronze tablet engraved with a chart—tho 
 earliest known map of the world—pointed out where 
 all the different nations lay, and conjured him to assist 
 his kinsmen the Tomans ; observing, that it was foolish 
 
IONIA. 
 
 117 
 
 for the Spartans to fritter away their force in local 
 feuds, when they might he lords of Asia. As for the 
 Persians, they were an easy prey—men who actually 
 “ went into battle with trousers on.” Cleomenes pro¬ 
 mised to give him an answer in three days. At the 
 second interview he asked “ how far it was to Susa 1 ?” 
 Aristagoras was unguarded enough to say, “ a three 
 months’ journey on which Cleomenes ordered him 
 to quit Sparta before sunset. Then he returned and 
 sat before the king in the sacred guise of a suppliant, 
 with an olive-bough in his hand. A little daughter of 
 Cleomenes, named Gorgo, aged eight or nine, was 
 standing at her father’s side. The Milesian wished 
 her to be sent away, but Cleomenes told him to say 
 on, and not to heed the child. Then Aristagoras be¬ 
 gan by offering ten talents, and as the king shook his 
 head, increased them by degrees to fifty. When this 
 sum was mentioned, the child cried out, “ Go away, 
 father, or the strange man will be sure to bribe thee.’’ * 
 The “conscience of the king” was moved. He with¬ 
 drew to escape the temptation, and the mission of 
 Aristagoras failed at Sparta. 
 
 At Athens he had better chances of success. Athens 
 was in the heyday of her first freedom. She had rid 
 herself of her Tyrants, the Pisistratids, who were at 
 
 * Gorgo was well worthy to become, as she afterwards did, 
 the wife of Leonidas. An incident in her married life, subse¬ 
 quently related by Herodotus, seems to militate against the 
 dictum of Aristotle that the Spartan women were inferior to 
 the men. All the authorities of Sparta were puzzled by the 
 arrival of a waxen tablet (the usual form of a despatch) with 
 nothing written on it. When Gorgo heard of it, she at once 
 suggeoted that the wax should be scraped off, and the despatch 
 was found engraven on the wood. 
 
118 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 this moment intriguing with Persia, not without sue* 
 cess, for their restoration. The feelings of the citizens 
 towards these powerful absentees and their Asiatic 
 friends were much the same as those of the French of 
 1792 towards the Emigration and its abettors. The 
 two great ruling families were now the rival houses of 
 Alcmseon and Isagoras. Clcistlienes the Alcmseonid, 
 grandson of the tyrant of Sicyon, might not have 
 thought it worth his while to court the people, had he 
 not been cleterriiined to put down the rival faction 
 which was led by Isagoras, brother of his father’s rival 
 Hippocleides, of dancing notoriety. As it was, he 
 brought about a complete democratic revolution. He 
 broke up the four old tribes, which were bound by 
 family ties and sacied rites, and made ten new geo¬ 
 graphical divisions. This was as radical a change as the 
 substitution of departments for provinces in France; 
 and the introduction of the decimal system, in nearly 
 every department of state at Athens, anticipated by 
 more than two thousand years the work of the French 
 Revolution. The Isagorids for a time turned the 
 tables on the Alcmseonids, by calling in the assistance 
 of the Spartans, and Cleisthenes had only just defeated 
 a dangerous confederacy against Athens. The Spartans 
 had invaded Attica from Megara, when the Boeotians 
 and Chalcidians broke in upon their northern frontier. 
 But the usual jealousy between the two Spartan kings, 
 and the defection of their Corinthian allies, dissolved 
 the Spartan army, and left the Athenians at leisure 
 to deal with their other enemies. They defeated 
 the Boeotians with great slaughter, taking seven hun¬ 
 dred prisoners ; and crossing on the same day to Euboea, 
 there obtained a second victory over the Chalcidians, in 
 
10X1 A. 
 
 K9 
 
 whose lands they afterwards planted a military colony. 
 The prisoners were ransomed, hut their chains still 
 hung in the citadel of Athens in the time of Herod¬ 
 otus on the walls blackened with Persian fire, and a 
 handsome bronze quadriga stood by the gateway, which 
 had been offered to Minerva from the tithe of the 
 ransom. Its inscription was to this effect:— 
 
 “ Armies of nations twain, Boeotia banded with Chalcis, 
 Sons of Athenian sires quelled in the labour of war, 
 Slaking their ardent pride in a dismal fetter of iron— 
 Then to the Maid for tithe gave we the chariot-and- 
 four.” 
 
 The energy of Athens at this time struck Herodotus 
 forcibly. It was like that of the French Jacobins when 
 they had enemies on every frontier, and the Vendee 
 and the Federals of the South on their hands besides. 
 Great political changes give a nation a present sense of 
 life and happiness, which is too often ultimately wrecked 
 by selfishness, but which seems for a time to inspire 
 superhuman strength. The worsted Thebans stirred up 
 the little island of FEgina, which was always a thorn in 
 the side of Athens till she had become mistress of the 
 sea. There was a very old-standing feud about some 
 sacred images or fetishes of olive-wood, representing 
 the goddess Ceres and her daughter Persephone. Ho 
 doubt thdr holiness was enhanced by their age and 
 ugliness. Artistic beauty seems to have little to do 
 with the sacred ness of images, and in modern times in 
 Italy an old black Madonna has been an object of pecu¬ 
 liar veneration. The Zeus of Phidias and the Aphro¬ 
 dite of Praxiteles were not moulded by the hands of 
 Faith. 
 
 The Athenians had just refused a demand of the 
 
120 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 Persian satrap of Sardis for the restoration of their tyrant 
 Hippias, when Aristagoras arrived. They received 
 him with open arms, not only on account of this, but 
 also because Miletus was their own colony ; and de¬ 
 spatched twenty ships—probably all they could spare 
 from the ZEginetan war—to aid the Milesians in their 
 struggle against the yoke of Persia. These were joined 
 by live galleys from Eretria in Euboea, that city being 
 under an obligation to the Milesians. The crews left 
 their ships on the shore near Ephesus, and inarched on 
 and surprised Sardis, shutting up the Persians in the cita¬ 
 del. But Sardis proved to them a miniature Moscow'. 
 The town, mainly built of v 7 ood and reeds, caught fire, 
 and the buccaneers thought it best to retreat as soon 
 as a sack became out of the question. But the Persian 
 forces caught them up near Ephesus, and inflicted severe 
 punishment before they could reach their ships. The 
 Ionian Greeks were now left to themselves by the 
 Athenians, but the insurrection assumed large propor¬ 
 tions, involving the whole Greek seaboard of Asia, 
 many inland tribes, and lastly spreading to the island 
 of Cyprus. 
 
 When Darius heard of the great revolt, and espe¬ 
 cially cf the burning of Sardis, his wrath was greatly 
 kindled against the Athenians. He took a bow and 
 shot towards heaven, saying, “ 0 Zeus ! grant that I 
 may be avenged on the Athenians!” He also appointed 
 a slave tc say to him thrice every day during dinner, 
 “ O king ! remember the Athenians.” * Then he sent 
 
 * There is a parallel symbolism in the case of Elisha and Joash 
 (2 Kings xiii. 17): “Then Elisha said, Shoot; and he shot. 
 And he said, The arrow of the Lord's deliverance, and the arrow 
 of deliverance from Syria. ” 
 
10X1 A. 
 
 121 
 
 for Histiaeus, telling him that lie suspected he knew 
 something about the business. But the Greek’s innocent 
 look and plausible words deceived the king, who was 
 induced to send him to the coast—the very thing lie 
 had desired—to help to quell the insurrection. At 
 Sardis Histiaeus found an astuter head to deal with. 
 The satrap there was Artaphernes the king’s brother. 
 He said, “I see how it is, Histiaeus—thou hast stitched 
 the shoe, and Aristagoras has put it on.” But the 
 adroit Ionian managed for the time to escape out ot 
 all his difficulties. He even outwitted Artaphernes so 
 far, that, as Mr Grote supposes, he got him to executo 
 a number of innocent Persians at Sardis, by opening a 
 treasonable correspondence with them. The Milesians, 
 however, would not receive him back as governor : 
 he therefore persuaded the Lesbians to give him eight 
 triremes, with which he took to piracy on his own ac¬ 
 count in the parts about the Hellespont. While ma¬ 
 rauding on the coast near Lesbos, he was defeated by 
 a Persian force which happened to be there, and his 
 captors, fearing lest the good-natured Darius might par¬ 
 don him, put him to death at Sardis. Their fears were 
 well founded; for when they sent his head to the king, 
 Darius expressed much regret, and ordered it to be 
 buried with all honour. This is quite consistent with 
 the character of the Persian king as drawn by the 
 prophet Daniel. It seems as if no one who had once 
 done him a service could ever afterwards forfeit his 
 good graces. 
 
 After reducing Cyprus, the Persians fell with their 
 combined force on the Ionians and their allies. A vic¬ 
 tory won by the Greek fleet over the Phoenician sailors 
 of Darius had no result of importance. The Carians 
 
\ 'll 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 fought most valiantly, and cut off a whole Persian 
 division by an ambuscade. Though they lost in one 
 battle ten thousand men, yet their spirit was unbroken. 
 Miletus, too, still held out gallantly. If any man un¬ 
 der these circumstances ought to have shown an ex¬ 
 ample of self-devotion, that man was Aristagoras. 
 But nerve is inconsistent with levity of character. It 
 often happens that the coward runs into the jaws of 
 his fate, and so it happened to him. He abandoned the 
 Toman cause, and with some of his partisans sailed away 
 for his father-in-law’s new settlement in Thrace, where 
 he was killed while besieging some petty town. He had 
 been just in time to make his fruitless escape, for the 
 Persians now proceeded to invest Miletus by land and 
 sea. The allied Greeks decided on leaving it to defend 
 itself by land, and concentrating their fleet at a small 
 island off the coast. The allies counted in all three 
 hundred and fifty triremes, which were confronted by 
 six hundred in the service of Persia. The Persian com¬ 
 manders first tried to dissolve the hostile confedera¬ 
 tion by sending the deposed despots each to their own 
 countrymen with promises of pa. don on submission, and 
 threats of extermination in case of prolonged resistance. 
 The plan so far failed that it did not supersede the ne¬ 
 cessity of an action, for each separate state imagined it¬ 
 self the only one to which overtures were made. The 
 Ionian captains, in their council of war, now agreed to 
 put themselves all under the command of Dionysius 
 of Phocaea. He set to work to put the ships in con 
 stunt training, especially practising a manoeuvre some¬ 
 thing like that of Nelson, — attacking the enemy s 
 line in columns, and cutting through it. The inven¬ 
 tion of steam-rams seems likelv to make the sea-fights 
 
IONIA. 
 
 123 
 
 of the future more like those of the remote past than 
 ever. The incidents of the Merrimac’s battle and of 
 Lissa recall the collisions of ancient navies, only that 
 the oars of the galleys are superseded by steam-engines. 
 Their sails were not used in action, as they would have 
 only embarrassed the rowers. To sweep away a whole 
 broadside of oars by cleverly shaving the enemy, and 
 then turn sharply and ram him home on the quarter, 
 was doubtless a favourite evolution of the best sailors. 
 Dionysius was too much of a martinet for the self-in¬ 
 dulgent Ionians. He kept them at sea all night—an 
 unheard-of innovation—and at drill all day, and the 
 days were terribly hot. They had not bargained for 
 this when they chose him admiral. They began to 
 murmur. “What god have we offended that we should 
 be thus victimised ? What fools we were to give our¬ 
 selves up body and soul to this Pliocsean bully, who 
 commands but three ships of his own ! We shall fall 
 sick with the work and heat. The Persians can but 
 make us slaves, and no da very can well be worse than 
 this. Let us mutiny.” So they landed and encamped 
 on the island, lolled in the shade all day, and refused 
 to go on board any more. Then the Persian poison 
 began to work. ./Laces, the son of Syloson, lately 
 tyrant of Samos, succeeded in persuading his country¬ 
 men to promise to desert, and they alone had sixty 
 ships. Little could be hoped now from a general 
 battle, but the battle took place. The Samians went 
 off, all but eleven ships, whose stanch captains, like 
 Nelson at Copenhagen with his blind eye to the tele¬ 
 scope, would not see the signal of retreat. Most of the 
 other allied squadrons, when they saw what the Samians 
 were doing, imitated their bad example. The Chian 
 
124 . 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 contingent, with the Samian eleven and a few others, 
 maintained a desperate struggle. The hundred Chian 
 ships, each with forty picked marines on board, charged 
 repeatedly through the enemy’s line. When they had 
 taken many of his galleys, and lost half their own, such 
 as were able made their way to their own island. Their 
 damaged ships made for Mycale, where the crews ran 
 them ashore and marched to Ephesus. But ill fortune 
 followed them. It was night, and the Ephesians were 
 celebrating a feast, whose chief ceremony was a torch¬ 
 light procession of women. Thinking them a party 
 of freebooters come to carry off their wives and 
 daughters, the citizens sallied out and cut them all to 
 pieces. Dionysius the Phocsean had taken three ships, 
 thus exactly doubling his own number. When he saw 
 that the fight was lost, he made straight for the coast 
 of Phoenicia, left undefended by the absence of their 
 war-galleys, sank a number of merchantmen in the 
 harbours, and gained by this booty the means of set¬ 
 ting up handsomely as a corsair in Sicily, where ho 
 plundered Carthaginians and Tyrrhenians, but—with 
 “ a refinement of delicacy very unusual,” as Mr Raw- 
 linson observes—let all Greek vessels go free. 
 
 The fall of Miletus soon followed the sea-fight. Most 
 of the men were killed, and the women and children 
 enslaved. The Athenians were deeply affected by the 
 news, and when their poet Phrynichus brought on the 
 stage his tragedy of the “ Capture of Miletus,” the 
 audience burst into tears, and he was fined a thousand 
 drachmas (francs), and forbidden ever to exhibit it 
 again. The revolt, which had now been desperately 
 maintained for six years, was terribly expiated. The 
 towns on the coast were as far as possible depopulated 
 
10 XI A. 
 
 125 
 
 (the people being sent to tlie interior); and the islands 
 were traversed by lines of soldiers, who “ netted ” the 
 inhabitants from one side to the other. Cities 
 and temples were burnt to the ground. The Chians 
 had been warned of coming evil by terrible portents. 
 Of a hundred youths sent to Delphi, all but two had 
 died of a pestilence ; and just before the great sea-fight 
 off Miletus, the roof of a public school had fallen on 
 the heads of the children of the principal citizens, and 
 only one had escaped out of a hundred and twenty. 
 In 1821 Europe was roused to sympathy for Greece 
 by the horrors which this very island (Scio) suffered 
 from the troops of the Capudan Pasha. 
 
 After a time the policy of the Persians changed to¬ 
 wards Ionia, probably because Darius disapproved of the 
 excessive severity which had been exercised ; and Mar- 
 donius, his son-in-law, a young noble of great promise, 
 was sent to depose once more the “ tyrants,” and estab¬ 
 lish democracies. These rulers had proved that they 
 were not to be trusted. Having settled this business 
 to the king’s satisfaction, he was appointed to the 
 command of a fleet and army whose destination was 
 Athens and Eretria—for Darius had never forgotten 
 their offence in the burning of Sardis. But the ulterior 
 object of the expedition was the subjugation of all 
 Greece. 
 
 As the Persian fleet was doubling Mount Athos, 
 a north wind sprang up which terribly shattered it. 
 Little short of three hundred wrecks and twenty 
 thousand corpses were cast away on the rocky pro¬ 
 montory. Many fell victims, says Herodotus, to sea- 
 monsters—one of the additional perils of the deep in 
 the imagination of ancient mariners; those who could 
 
12G 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 not swim wore drowned—and those who could, died 
 of cold. Mardonius himself received a wound in 
 an action on the mainland of Thrace, and the 
 expedition returned home with its commander in¬ 
 valided. Darius immediately made fresh prepara¬ 
 tions, and sent heralds to all the Greek states to de¬ 
 mand earth and water, in order that lie might know 
 what support to expect. It is to he hoped that 
 the Athenians and Spartans did not disgrace them¬ 
 selves by throwing one of the heralds into a well and 
 the other into a pit, and telling them to fetch earth 
 and water thence; but such is the story. Darius 
 himself would under no provocation have so forgotten 
 his knighthood. Some years afterwards, the Spartans 
 were said to have sent two of their citizens, who 
 voluntarily offered themselves, to Susa, as an atone¬ 
 ment for this outrage, for which they believed that 
 the wrath of the hero Talthybius, the patron of 
 heralds, lay heavy on them; but Xerxes, who was 
 then king, would not accept the sacrifice, and dismissed 
 them unhurt. 
 
 The ^Eginetans gave the earth and water to Darius, 
 probably to spite the Athenians, who at once denounced 
 them to the Spartans (who were as yet considered 
 the leaders of Greece) as traitors to the national cause. 
 The Spartan king Cleomenes went to iEgina to arrest 
 the most guilty parties; but his mission there was 
 foiled b}” his brother-king Demaratus, who was accusing 
 him at home. In retaliation, Cleomenes attempted to 
 prove that Demaratus was illegitimate. His mother 
 was the loveliest woman in Sparta. She had been 
 ugly in her childhood, but was changed into a beauty 
 by her nurse taking her daily to the temple of Helen. 
 
TO XT A. 
 
 127 
 
 There a mysterious lady—“tall as the gods, and most 
 divinely fair”—one day laid her hand on the child, 
 whose looks from that time forth began to amend. In 
 due time she had been married to a noble Spartan ; but 
 Ariston the king fell in love with her, and got her from 
 her husband, who was his greatest friend, by a ruse. 
 Tie proposed to exchange their most precious posses¬ 
 sions, and they ratified the compact by an oath. 
 Ariston straightway demanded his friend’s wife. Thus 
 taken off his guard, and bound by his oath, the hus¬ 
 band unwillingly resigned her. But from circumstances 
 connected with the birth of the child Demaratus, he 
 was supposed by some to be not the son of Ariston, but 
 of her former husband. Cleomenes found a powerful 
 ally in Leotychides, the next heir, who was a deadly 
 enemy of Demaratus, and the suit was carried on in 
 his name. The inevitable oracle of Delphi was the last 
 court of appeal; and the priestess, being bribed by 
 Cleomenes, pronounced against Demaratus, who was 
 then deposed, and ultimately driven from Sparta by 
 the taunts of Leotychides. He made his way to that 
 paradise of refugees, the hospitable court of Darius, 
 who gave him lands and cities. He had stood very 
 high in the estimation of his countrymen, as having 
 been the only Spartan who had won the four-horse 
 chariot-race at Olympia. 
 
 When Cleomenes had thus worked his will on Dem¬ 
 aratus, he took Leotychides, his new associate on the 
 throne, with him to Angina, where he arrested two of 
 the principal citizens, as guilty of treason against the 
 liberty of Greece, and deposited them as hostages with 
 their bitter enemies the Athenians. But bis own end 
 was near. Humour accused him of underhand practices 
 
128 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 against Demaratus, and lie fled into Arcadia, where he 
 "began to hatch a conspiracy against Sparta. The Spar¬ 
 tans in alarm called him home to his former honours. 
 He had always been eccentric; lie now became a maniac. 
 He would dash his staff in the face of every citizen he 
 met. At last his friends put him in the stocks—a 
 wholesome instrument of restraint, as common there 
 as in our own country within the last century. Find¬ 
 ing himself alone one day with his keeper, he asked 
 for a knife. The Helot did not dare to refuse the 
 king, though a prisoner. Then he committed suicide 
 in a manner which, though effected more clumsily, 
 resembled the “Happy Despatch” of the Japanese. 
 
 The madness of Cleoinenes, like that of Cambyses, 
 was generally supposed to have been a judgment on 
 his impiety. Herodotus thought his treatment of 
 Demaratus enough to account for it; but other charges 
 equally grave were brought against him. He had 
 bribed the Pythian priestess. He had roasted alive 
 some fifty Argives who had taken refuge in a sacred 
 grove, during his invasion of Argolis, by burning the 
 grove itself. He had scourged Argive priests for not 
 allowing him, a foreigner, to sacrifice in the temple of 
 .7 uno. He had been in the habit of entering forbidden 
 temples, and generally of making a parade of reckless 
 irreligion. dhe Spartans themselves, however, gave a 
 more naturalistic account of the cause of his madness. 
 Certain Scythian ambassadors, who were staying at 
 Sparta to negotiate a league against Darius, had in¬ 
 duced the king to adopt the habit of taking his wine 
 without water like themselves. “ To drink like a 
 Scythian” was a proverb. The case of Cambyses, as 
 we have seen, admitted of the like explanation. 
 
10 XI A. 
 
 129 
 
 When Cleomenes was dead, the AEginetans sent to 
 Sparta to complain of Leotychides about their hostages, 
 who were still in custody with the Athenians. Leo¬ 
 tychides, who was not popular, narrowly escaped being 
 given up as a hostage in their stead; but, in the end, 
 he was duly sent to Athens to demand their release. 
 The Athenians refused to give them up, saying that 
 as two kings had placed them there, they could not 
 give them up to one. They certainly would have had 
 the English law of trusteeship on tlieir side. Leo¬ 
 tychides, however, read them a striking lesson on the 
 sacredness of trusts. He told them how one Glaucus, 
 a Spartan, had once consulted the oracle at Delphi as 
 to restoring a deposit of money to its rightful owner. 
 He had the audacity to ask whether he might venture 
 to purge himself by an oath, according to the Greek 
 law, and so keep the money. The Pythoness gave 
 answer in these warning words :— 
 
 “ 0 Glaucus, gold is good to win, 
 
 And a false oath is easy sin ; 
 
 Swear—an thou wilt: death follows both 
 The righteous and unrighteous oath : 
 
 But Perjury breeds an awful Birth, 
 
 That hath no name in heaven or earth ; 
 
 Strong without hands, swift without feet, 
 
 It tracks the pathway of deceit— 
 
 Sweeps its whole household from the land; 
 
 Only the just man’s house shall stand.” 
 
 When Glaucus heard these words, he at once restored 
 the money, and sent to beg of the god that the thought 
 $f his heart might be forgiven him. The oracle re¬ 
 plied that to tempt heaven with such a question was 
 as bad as to commit the sin. “ And now/’ said the 
 a. c. vol. iii. 
 
 l 
 
130 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS . 
 
 Spartan king, “ mark my words, men of Athens; at 
 this day there is none of Glaucus’ race left in Sparta * 
 they have perished, root and branch.” 
 
 The Athenians, however, turned a deaf ear to the 
 solemn monition. In return for their stubbornness, 
 the iEginetans laid wait for and captured the Sacred 
 Galley which carried the Athenian embassy to Delos 
 periodically, and threw the envoys (men of the high¬ 
 est rank) into prison. A fierce war of reprisals was 
 entered upon, of which perhaps the most remarkable 
 characteristic is the poverty of the Athenians of the 
 period in ships. They were obliged to beg twenty 
 galleys of their friends the Corinthians, who, as it was 
 against the law to give them, generously sold the whole 
 for a hundred drachmae—about five francs apiece. 
 
 Leotychides might have served to point the moral 
 of his own remarkable anecdote. He reaped little 
 happiness from the successful plot by which he had 
 supplanted Demaratus. After seeing his only son die 
 before him, he ended his own days in exile, having been 
 banished from Sparta for the disgraceful crime of taking 
 bribes from the enemy during a war with the Thessa¬ 
 lians. The evident satisfaction with which Herodotus, 
 here as elsewhere, traces the course of retributive jus¬ 
 tice, is highly characteristic of the historian. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 MARATHON. 
 
 “ The flying Mede, his shaftless broken bow! 
 
 The fiery Greek, his red pursuing spear ! 
 
 Mountains above. Earth’s, Ocean’s plain below ! 
 
 Such was the scene.” 
 
 —Byron, “Childe Harold.” 
 
 As the first expedition against Greece under Mardonius 
 had ended in disaster, Darius thought it best to let the 
 young commander gain experience before he was in¬ 
 trusted with the conduct of another ; possibly, also, his 
 wound was long in healing. The second armada was 
 put under the command of Datis, a Mede of mature 
 years, and Artaphemes, nephew of the king. They 
 had express orders to bring the Athenians and Eretrians 
 into the royal presence in chains. The whole flotilla 
 -six hundred war-ships, besides transports—struck 
 straight across sea, through the Archipelago, not caring 
 again to tempt the dangers of Athos. After sack¬ 
 ing Naxos, they came to the sacred island of Delos, 
 the birthplace of the twin deities Apollo and Diana. 
 Fortunately for the inhabitants, the senior commander 
 was a Median ritualist, not an iconoclast like Cam- 
 byses, and the sacred island was more than spared. 
 
132 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 Herodotus mentions an earthquake as occurring soon 
 after this visit, and Thucydides another ; and the story 
 of the island having once floated about at large, 
 before it became fixed, is doubtless connected 'with 
 its volcanic origin. The Persian armament swept 
 like a blight through the other islands, and soon 
 appeared off the coast of Euboea. Meeting with no 
 resistance on landing, they disembarked their cavalry, 
 and laid siege to Eretria, which was betrayed to them 
 after six days of severe fighting. The town was 
 burnt and sacked, and the inhabitants carried away 
 captive. They expected from the threats of Darius 
 the worst of fates; but when they reached Susa, that 
 forgiving monarch settled them peaceably at a place 
 called Ardericca, where there was a famous well which 
 produced salt, bitumen, and petroleum. Herodotus 
 saw them there, and mentions particularly that they 
 had not forgotten their Greek. 
 
 The Athenians, after the fall of Eretria, must have- 
 felt much as the Jews did when Sennacherib appeared 
 before their walls, and Pabshakeh boasted that all the 
 kings and gods on his march had fallen before him. 
 But when they heard that the Persians had actually 
 disembarked at Marathon, they must have felt as 
 England would have felt had the news come that 
 Buonaparte had landed in Pevensey Bay, close to the 
 ominous field of Hastings. For Marathon had not as 
 yet become a synonym for Victory; on the contrary, 
 Pisistratus had beaten the Athenian commons on 
 that plain, and his son Hippias was now with the 
 Persian host in a temper which, they might be sure, 
 nad not improved with old age, exile, and disappoint¬ 
 ment. 
 
MA RA THON. 
 
 133 
 
 It was Hippias who, from old association, and 
 thinking the plain well suited for cavalry manoeuvres, 
 had guided the Persians to the strand of Marathon 
 (now Vrana). The plain itself is shaped somewhat 
 like a thin crescent, the sea washing its concavity, and 
 mountains rising behind its convex rim, which opens 
 out at the back into two valleys. Between both a 
 spur runs out, commanding the two gaps. The slope 
 of this spur was the key of the Athenian position. The 
 extent of level ground is about six miles long, as mea¬ 
 sured by the curve of the bay, and about a mile and a 
 half broad. But although along the whole of the six 
 miles there is a fine sandy beach for landing, behind it, 
 a considerable part—more than a third—of the crescent- 
 plain is occupied by two swamps, one of which is of 
 considerable extent. Here the Persian army awaited 
 the mustering of the Athenians. Why they did not 
 push on at once into the country is a mystery. 
 
 It so chanced that, just before the Persians came, 
 a heaven-sent commander dropped, as it were, from 
 the clouds into the fortunate city of Athens. Tho 
 spirits of men rose when it was rumoured that Mil- 
 tiades, the son of Cimon, had come home. Herod¬ 
 otus gives us his family history, which was curious 
 enough. 
 
 The Chersonese is a tongue of land jutting into the 
 sea from the Thracian mainland. Its people being 
 annoyed by the incursions of some savages to the north, 
 as the Britons were by the Piets and Scots, sent a 
 deputation to the oracle at Delphi to ask for advice. 
 The god told them to choose as king the first man 
 who should welcome them to his house. For some 
 time they traversed almost hopelessly various parts 
 
134 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 of Gieeoe; but Greek respectability was not likely to 
 invite into its sanctuary a party of strangers “dressed 
 in outlandish garments, and carrying long spears in 
 their hands.” At last in Attica they passed by the 
 countryhouse of one Miltiades, son of Cypselus (a de¬ 
 scendant of the hero of the “ meal-bin ”) A The demo¬ 
 cratic Tyranny had deprived him of occupation, for he 
 was a nobleman of the old school, who came of “ a 
 four-horse family,” says our historian—had won, indeed, 
 tiie great Olympic race himself—who traced his pedi¬ 
 gree back to Ajax, and was connected with the proud 
 Isagorids. So he sat idle in his porch, heartily sick of 
 Pisistratus and democratic respectability. Seeing the 
 •foreign wayfarers pass, out of mere curiosity, as it would 
 seem, he invited them into his house and entertained 
 them. The interview was satisfactory ; Miltiades con¬ 
 sented to take out a few colonists with them to their 
 wilds, and be their king. The first thing he did was to 
 build them a kind of Hadrian’s wall to keep back their 
 Piets and Scots. His nephew, Stesagoras, the son of 
 Cimon, succeeded him, and was succeeded, on his 
 violent death, by his brother, this second Miltiades, 
 who came out from Athens, and made himself by a 
 coup d'etat despot of the whole Chersonese—a great sin 
 in the eyes of his democratic countrymen, who brought 
 him to trial for it when he came to Athens, but con¬ 
 doned it on account of his services to the state. When 
 the Persians, in their march of vengeance after the 
 Ionian revolt, came to the Hellespont, he ran the gaunt¬ 
 let of their fleet successfully with five galleys; but lie 
 left in their hands one ship, on board of which was 
 his son As Miltia les had advised the king’s bridge 
 
 * See p. 103. 
 
M A RA Til OX. 
 
 135 
 
 over the Danube to be destroyed, his captors thought, 
 when they sent the youth to Darius, that he would 
 punish the father in his person; but, with his usual 
 magnanimity, the king gave him a house and estate, 
 and a Persian wife, by whom he became the founder 
 of a Persian family. 
 
 Miltiades, immediately on his return to Athens, was 
 impeached by his democratic enemies for “ tyranny ” in 
 his colony; but, having cleared his character, he was at 
 once appointed one of the ten Athenian generals, of 
 whom Callimachus, the polemarch, or minister of war, 
 was another. They could not have been much more 
 than colonels, except on the days when they held the 
 command in rotation; an arrangement which, to our 
 English notions, would be fatal to the success of any 
 great enterprise. The Athenians were as fond of deci¬ 
 mals as the Persians of the number seven. A tradi¬ 
 tional 10,000 Athenians were engaged on the Greek 
 side at Marathon. But the Greeks were apt to under¬ 
 estimate their own numbers and exaggerate those of the 
 enemy. Supposing the Persian force to amount in 
 all to 200,000 men, making deductions for the guard 
 of the ships and the absent cavalry, they probably 
 brought not many more than 110,000 into the field, 
 of whom 30,000 were heavy armed. The Athenian 
 light armed must also be reckoned, and if their whole 
 force is put at 18,000, with 2000 Plataeans, the odds 
 still leave abundant room for Hellenic self-glorification. 
 Before the Athenians left their city, they had sent to 
 Sparta for succour. Their courier is said to have 
 reached Sparta on foot—a distance of 140 English 
 miles—on the second day. But the Spartans had an 
 inveterate superstition against marching until the 
 
13G 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 moon was full. They were possibly in no great hurry 
 to help Athens, as, when they did come, it was too 
 late, and only with two thousand men. The Athen¬ 
 ians had already drawn up their line of battle in the 
 sacred close cf Hercules, at Marathon, when they were 
 joined by the Platseans. The Plataeans had suffered 
 much in time past from their neighbours the Thebans, 
 and in return for substantial protection had bound 
 themselves to Athens; in fact the little state became 
 a satellite of the greater. 
 
 The Greek forces seem to have occupied the space 
 between Mount Kotroni and Argaliki, resting their 
 wings against the heights, which prevented their being 
 outflanked. There was hesitation as to beginning 
 the attack. On the one hand, the Athenians rested 
 on their own supplies, and could take their time 5 
 and the Spartan contingent, though tardy, might be 
 expected to march in six days, when the moon would 
 be at the full. On the other hand, treachery was 
 feared from the party of Hippias in Athens, if 
 there was any delay. The generals were equally 
 divided, but Miltiades was for immediate action, and 
 persuaded Callimachus to give his casting-vote with 
 him. By what arrangement it happened is not 
 clear, but it is certain that when, the day for action 
 came, the command was in the hands of Miltiades. 
 Why the attack was made on the particular day it is 
 difficult to determine. Some suppose that Miltiades, 
 with an inspiration like that of Wellington at Sala¬ 
 manca, saw his advantage in a temporary absence 
 of the Persian cavalry. Certain it is that no cavalry 
 are heard of in the action, which seems singular, as 
 Hippias is said to have chosen the spot for their bene* 
 
MARA TIIOX. 
 
 137 
 
 fit.* The armies stood fronting each other. Callima¬ 
 chus was on the right wing, and the Platseans on the left. 
 The right was always the post of honour and of danger, 
 because the last man had his side unprotected by a shield. 
 When the Greek line was formed, it appeared too short 
 as compared with that of the Persians ; so Miltiades, 
 no doubt with some misgivings, drew troops from his 
 centre and massed them on the wings, in order that 
 they might deploy when they cam-ed|^o^th^feMerL 
 There was nearly a mile of ground to l?e, cleared pentre 
 arriving at the enemy’s line; ai^k'it was advisable 
 to lose as few men as possible from arrows before 
 coming to the thrust of spears. Miltiades therefore 
 gave the signal to charge at quick step, which was 
 increased to a run when within ravage. The Persians, 
 on their side, prepared to give them a warm recep¬ 
 tion, though they thought the Gre^r^iac 
 ing so wildly, unsupported by archers 
 they had scarcely time for admiration of their enemies 
 before they were in upon them. The two armies 
 wrestled long and desperately before advantage de¬ 
 clared itself for either. At last the swaying line of 
 combat parted into three fragments, which moved in 
 different directions. In the centre, where the Persians 
 and Sacae were posted, the Athenians were rolled back, 
 probably no farther than the slope of Kotroni, where 
 they could stand at bay, though Herodotus says they 
 were pursued up the valley. On the wings they were 
 
 * Mr Blakesley thinks that they had not yet been disem¬ 
 barked, but were still at Eretria ; and perhaps it was for this 
 reason that the Persians kept their position close to the shore 
 for so long a time, and did not attempt to outflank by the hills 
 an enemy numerically so inferior. 
 
138 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 victorious; and the allies of the Persians who were 
 there, retiring creditably enough, with their faces to the 
 enemy, did not see the marshes behind them, but floun¬ 
 dered into them backwards.. There was struggling to 
 regain a footing, and general confusion, of which the 
 Greeks took advantage, and pressed them harder till 
 they were hopelessly broken and discomfited. But the 
 victorious wings now perceived that their own centre 
 was dislocated from them, and had lost ground before 
 the elite of the Persian army; they therefore faced 
 about and fell on their flanks. The Persian centre, 
 now engaged on three sides, at last gave way likewise, 
 and fell back in the direction of their galleys. Covered 
 probably by the archers from the decks, most of the 
 troops got safe on board. Then the Greeks raised a 
 yell of disappointment, called for fire to burn the 
 ships, and many rushed into the water to try to board 
 them. One of the foremost of these was Cynegeirus, 
 brother to the poet iEschylus; but as he grasped 
 the stern-ornament of a trireme, he dropt back with 
 both his hands chopped off. Some say that he main¬ 
 tained his hold until he lost first one hand, then the 
 other, and lastly his head, as he caught the gunwale 
 with his teeth. 
 
 So ended the immortal battle of Marathon, which 
 stands almost alone by the side of Morgarten among 
 the miracles achieved by the inspiration of Freedom. 
 The Persians were sufficiently beaten, but their rout 
 could hardly have been so complete as Herodotus de¬ 
 scribes, since they had not far to run. They lost six 
 thousand four hundred men, mostly in the swamps, and 
 seven galleys, held back by main force or carried by 
 boarding. It was in the fight at the ships that, besides 
 
MARA THON. 
 
 139 
 
 Cynegeirus, many Athenians of note fell, amongst them 
 two of the generals, one of whom was Callimachus. The 
 Athenians lost one hundred and ninety-two men in the 
 action. As the greater number are said to have fallen 
 in the attack on the ships, either those who gave 
 way before the Persians anti Sacse were few, or they 
 only suffered a partial repulse. Greek armies, from 
 their formation in compact phalanx, seldom lost many 
 men until they were broken, when their long spears 
 and heavy armament rendered them more defenceless 
 than lighter troops. Marathon afterwards became a 
 household word at Athens, as Waterloo with us. A 
 “ man who had fought at Marathon ” had a patent of 
 popular nobility. Athenian orators made it a favourite 
 commonplace; and Athenian satirists found it an in¬ 
 exhaustible fund of jest upon the national vanity. W on- 
 derful stories were related in connection with the battle. 
 On the return of Pheidippides the courier from Sparta, 
 he said that as he was crossing a mountain in Arcadia 
 he was accosted by the wood-god Pan, who called to 
 him by name, and complained of his worship being 
 neglected by the Athenians, while he was always well 
 disposed towards them. In consequence, a temple was 
 dedicated to Pan under the Acropolis, and he was 
 honoured with annual sacrifices and a torch-race. 
 National heroes were supposed to have been present, 
 and to have assisted in the fight; and one Athenian 
 was suddenly struck blind in the thick of the fray by 
 (as he declared) the passing before his eyes of a super¬ 
 natural giant, who slew the man at his side. 
 
 When the Persians had re - embarked, their fleet 
 doubled Cape Sunium, and made a demonstration in 
 the direction of the harbour of Athens, with the hope 
 
HO 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 of surprising the city; "but the Athenians returned in 
 time to cover it. There was an ugly rumour, which 
 Herodotus entirely disbelieves, that a shield was hoisted 
 on the walls as a telegraphic signal by the Alcmaeonids. 
 This, doubtless, emanated from the opposite faction; 
 for the Isagorids and Alcmaeonids of Athens hated 
 each other as cordially, and slandered each other as 
 unscrupulously, as the English Tories and Whigs of 
 the time of Queen Anne. 
 
 The tale of the subsequent fate of Miltiades is one 
 of the most painful passages in history. In the first 
 flush of his popularity, he asked the Athenians to give 
 him seventy ships fully equipped, only deigning to 
 tell them that he would get them gold in abundance. 
 They asked no questions, but gave him the fleet. He 
 had a private grudge against the people of Paros, and 
 he now sailed to the island of marble, and laid siege to 
 its town. His patience began to be at an end, when 
 a certain priestess offered to forward his views. In 
 leaping the wall of the sacred precincts after an inter¬ 
 view with her, he dislocated his thigh. He then 
 returned to Athens disabled, and as soon as he arrived 
 was put upon his trial on the capital charge of having 
 deceived the state, his accuser being Xanthippus, 
 father of the great Pericles. The crippled hero lay 
 on a couch in court while his friends defended him. 
 They could not say a word in extenuation of the 
 Parian escapade, but rested his defence on the fact 
 that he had saved Athens at Marathon, and regained 
 Lemnos. But, unfortunately for Miltiades, this was 
 not the first time that he had had to appear on a charge 
 of like nature. It seemed as if he wished to make 
 himself despot of Paros — perhaps even despot of 
 
MARA THON’. 
 
 141 
 
 Athens—as he had made himself despot of the Cher¬ 
 sonese. It was not for this that they had got rid of 
 Hippias. If he commanded well at Marathon, so did 
 the other generals, two of them now no more; nay, 
 every man who fought in those ranks seemed as good a 
 hero as he, for Marathon, like Inkermann, was a “ sol¬ 
 dier’s battle.” If he took Lemnos, he had missed taking 
 Paros, and wasted the public money at a time when the 
 treasury was low. They had not the heart to condemn 
 him to death, for as he lay before them be seemed to 
 bear death’s mark already—and, indeed, it must have 
 appeared to them as impossible as for the king of Italy 
 to punish Garibaldi for treason after his wound at 
 Aspromonte; but they condemned him in the expenses 
 of the abortive expedition, amounting to fifty talents 
 (above .£12,000). As his son Cimon was able to pay 
 these heavy damages, his judges seem to have had no 
 intention of absolutely ruining him. Soon afterwards, 
 physical mortification in the injured limb, assisted no 
 doubt by mental, put an untimely end to the days of 
 the Man of Marathon. 
 

 CHAPTER X, 
 
 THERMOPYLAE. 
 
 
 ct Singing of men that in battle array, 
 Ready in heart and ready in hand, 
 March with banner, and bugle, and fife. 
 To the death, for their native land.” 
 
 —Tennyson, “ Ma id.” 
 
 After the terrible defeat of his best generals at Mara¬ 
 thon, Darius thought the Athenians worth his personal 
 attention. That battle took place in the autumn ol 
 B.c. 490 \ and the king occupied the next three years 
 in preparations for a new expedition, which he in¬ 
 tended to lead in person. But a revolt in Egypt divided 
 his attention; and he was considering in which direc¬ 
 tion he was most wanted, when he was summoned 
 from the scene by a mightier monarch than himself, 
 after a reign of six-and-thirty years. His fourth son, 
 Xerxes, succeeded him—not his first-born, Artabazanes; 
 because Xerxes had been born in the purple, and of a 
 daughter of Cyrus; whereas the elder sons had been 
 b(trn when Darius was a subject, and of the daughter 
 of a subject. Xerxes soon disposed of the Egyptian 
 revolt, and left his brother Achaemenes satrap of the 
 country. Then he took up the great quarrel bequeathed 
 
TRERMOPYL M. 
 
 143 
 
 him by his father, hut after many hesitations and 
 vacillations, signified in the narrative of Herodotus 
 by dreams and their interpretations, and opposite 
 opinions said to have been given by Artabanus, 
 who dissuaded, and Mardonius, who was in favour 
 of an invasion. The young king was evidently 
 afraid of compromising his newly - inherited pros¬ 
 perity. He was of a luxurious character, not crav¬ 
 ing, like Darius, for barren honour; and if he left 
 the Greeks alone, it would be a long time before they 
 found their w'ay to Susa. When the bolder counsels 
 at last prevailed, he resolved to make matters as safe 
 as possible. Grecian liberty was not to be stabbed, 
 but stifled, to death. He would pour out all Asia upon 
 it. So he took four good years in preparation, gather¬ 
 ing a host of armed, half-armed, and almost unarmed 
 men, such as has hardly been seen before or since. The 
 soldiers, with the exception of the select few, carried 
 the rudest national weapons—bows and arrows, pole¬ 
 axes, “ morning-stars,” even staves and lassoes. Some 
 rate the host as high as five millions; others give less 
 than half that number. The men were measured, like 
 dry goods—not counted; that is, a pen was made 
 which could hold ten thousand, through which the 
 whole army passed in successive batches. It is time, 
 perhaps, that a common error should be exploded, into 
 which, however, it would be impossible for any atten¬ 
 tive reader of Herodotus to fall. No schoolboy be 
 lieves now, as elderly men did when they were boys, 
 that the French are a nation of cowards. But it is 
 possible for careless readers of Greek history tc 
 believe that the Persians were cowards; else, they 
 might say, how should they have been beaten by 
 
144 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS . 
 
 so small a number of Greeks? And were they not 
 obliged to flog their soldiers into action? Perhaps 
 this was only a Greek version of the fact that corporal 
 punishment was an institution in their army. Amongst 
 the Greeks it was confined to slaves. The lash has not 
 prevented Russians and Austrians—not to mention 
 others—from fighting well. Perhaps the native Per¬ 
 sians, especially those of noble birth, were personally 
 braver than the Greeks. But the Greeks had the im¬ 
 mense advantage of discipline. In a disciplined army 
 every man has the eyes of his comrades on him, and if 
 fear is felt, it cannot act for very shame, and because 
 it is counteracted by mechanical obedience. Aristotle 
 assigns a special kind of courage to national militias, 
 which all Greek armies were, which he calls the political 
 courage, springing from the feeling of what is due from 
 the individual to the community. This may not be cour¬ 
 age of the most romantic kind, but it appears to answer 
 its end perfectly; and Nelson thought it good enough 
 to appeal to in his famous watchword, still written round 
 the wheel of our war-ships—“ England expects every 
 man to do his duty.” This kind of courage culminated 
 in Leonidas. The Persian officers were even desperately 
 brave, and always led the charges in person, which 
 accounts for their great relative loss in battles. The 
 Greek officers took their chance with the rest, being 
 indistinguishable from the privates in the phalanx. 
 Again, the numbers of their armies were a positive dis¬ 
 advantage to the Persians; for most of their auxiliary 
 troops, when brought into contact with real soldiers, 
 were as sheep brought to the shambles. The Greeks 
 were also more efficiently armed. The Persian infantry 
 were archers, carrying also pikes and daggers, who (like 
 
THERMOPYLAE. 
 
 14b 
 
 tlie English crossbow-man with his pavoise-hearer in 
 the fifteenth century) made a bulwark of their great 
 oblong wicker shields, as may be seen now in the Nim- 
 rud sculptures, and shot from behind them. But when 
 this bulwark was once forced, the Persians had no pro¬ 
 tection but their light armour against the strong pikes 
 of the Greeks. Our archers turned the scale of battle 
 against superior forces at Cressy and Poitiers, because 
 they were the only body which had at all the character 
 cf regular troops. 
 
 The Persian officers had in some respects become 
 luxurious and effeminate even in the time of Darius, 
 riding in palanquins, keeping sumpter-camels, and so 
 forth ; but they do not appear to have been worse than 
 our Anglo-Indians, who have never been reckoned defi¬ 
 cient in valour. The French mousquetaires , who fought 
 under Marshal Saxe, were as celebrated for their foppery 
 as their gallantry in the field. “ Hold hard—the dandies 
 are coming !” was the word passed from one British 
 soldier to another, when their laced coats and three- 
 cornered hats came in sight. 
 
 There is no need to follow in detail all the pomp 
 and circumstance of the slow march of Xerxes into 
 Greece. The vast army crossed from Abydos to Sestos 
 by a double pontoon bridge; and Xerxes, like the 
 spoiled child of the harem, is said to have ordered the 
 Hellespont to be scourged, and chains to be thrown into 
 it, and branding-irons to be plunged into the hissing 
 water, because a storm had destroyed the work when 
 first attempted. He is also said to have cut in halves the 
 eldest son of a wealthy Lydian, who had made him an 
 offer of all his property, but requested that one of his 
 sons might be left behind; making his troops defil« 
 
 a. c. vol. iii. k 
 
MG THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 between the severed portions, by way of raising theii 
 enthusiasm. A similar story is told of Darius, which 
 appears, in his case, incredible. The great interest of 
 the expedition begins when it arrived where resistance 
 might be expected from the Greeks. The land-force 
 which marched round the coast was accompanied by 
 more than twelve hundred war-galleys, besides a multi¬ 
 tude of other craft. The navy passed through a new- 
 made ship-canal, by which the voyage round the for¬ 
 midable headland of Athos was avoided. Our author 
 says the work was done in mere bravado, since the skips 
 might have been drawn across the narrow neck of land 
 with less labour and cost. It is remarkable, in the 
 cutting of this canal (a work of three years, the 
 traces of which are still distinctly visible), that all 
 the other nations were senseless enough to make its 
 sides perpendicular, which, from the continual landslips, 
 gave them double trouble ; while the Phoenicians alone 
 proved themslves as good “navvies” as navigators, by 
 making their cutting twice as broad at top as at bottom. 
 
 The news of the approach of this overwhelming 
 host struck the Greeks with consternation, and all the 
 northern tribes, including the Thebans, submitted to the 
 invader. The Athenians were alarmed by dark oracles 
 pointing apparently to their extermination, but con¬ 
 taining one saving clause, that they might find safety 
 in their “ wooden walls.” They wisely interpreted 
 this to mean their ships. Their troublesome war with 
 the AEginetans proved now an advantage, as it had 
 forced them to make'large additions to their navy, the 
 former poverty of which has been mentioned. Envoys 
 were sent for aid to Argos, Sicily, Coreyra, and Crete. 
 The Argives might be well excused for declining, as Cleo 
 
THERMOPYLAE. 
 
 147 
 
 menes had just massacred six thousand out of their not 
 probably more than ten thousand citizens. Gelon, the 
 king of Syracuse, would have assisted, had not Sicily 
 been just then invaded by a miscellaneous army of threo 
 hundred thousand men under the command of the Car¬ 
 thaginian Hamilcar, possibly induced, through the Phoe¬ 
 nicians, to make this diversion in favour of Xerxes. 
 Gelon had the good fortune to destroy this host in the 
 decisive battle of Himera, on the same day as the Greek 
 victory at Salamis. The Corcyraeans temporised, with 
 their historical selfishness ; the Cretans excused them¬ 
 selves on the faith of an oracle ; so the Greeks proper 
 were left to face their terrible enemy alone, and even 
 among them there were many craven spirits who took 
 the side of the Persian. 
 
 Thessaly, through which the course of the invaders 
 lay, is a basin of mountains, like Bohemia, cracked 
 by the gorge of the Peneus, as Bohemia is by that 
 of the Elbe. This basin was doubtless, as Herodo¬ 
 tus says, once a lake, until it was tapped by some 
 convulsion of nature. Xerxes thought flooding the 
 country quite feasible, by damming up the outlet of the 
 river: no such measure, however, was necessary. At 
 first the Greeks had intended to make their stand there, 
 in the Yale of Tempe, celebrated for its beauty. Over¬ 
 hung by plane-woods, the high elilfs are festooned 
 with creepers, and diversified with underwood, approach¬ 
 ing here and there so closely as to leave barely room for 
 the road and river. But they gave up this position 
 when they found that Thessaly could easily be entered 
 by another road over the mountains. They drew back 
 towards the isthmus: and Thessaly at once made 
 terms with the Persian king. 
 
THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 1 4:3 
 
 It was now decided to make the first stand at the 
 narrow pass of Thermopylae (Hotwells-Gate), tlie key 
 of Greece itself. The river Spercheius has since 
 established a tract of alluvial deposit between the 
 mountain and the sea, but the hot springs are still 
 there, in pools of clear water, and the other features 
 of the scene remain much as they were in the time 
 of Herodotus. The pass leads along the shore from 
 Thessaly to Locris. The Grecian fleet were to support 
 the army in the narrow strait by Artemisium, on the 
 head of Euboea (Xegropont). As the Persian host 
 rolled on, it had increased like a snowball, imbib¬ 
 ing the contingents of all the districts that sub¬ 
 mitted. But the elements were still against the 
 invaders. A storm arose when their fleet was off Mag¬ 
 nesia, attributed by the Athenians to the intervention 
 of Boreas (the 1STorth Wind), who had married a daugh¬ 
 ter of their mythical king Ereclitlieus. At least four 
 hundred galleys perished, and so much wealth was cast 
 ashore that the wreckers on the coast became rich men ; 
 and the Persians soon after lost fifteen ships more, 
 which mistook the enemy’s fleet for their own. Xerxes 
 was himself with the land-force, which had now oc¬ 
 cupied the territory of Trachis, north of the pass of 
 Thermopylae. The little Greek army had posted itself 
 behind an ancient wall, which barred the pass, and 
 which they had repaired, at a spot where there was 
 only room for a single chariot-road. The nucleus of 
 the force (in all under 8000 of all arms) was three 
 hundred tliorough-hred Spartans, each attended by his 
 seven Helots. They were all fathers of families, who 
 had left sons at Lome to succeed them. At their 
 head was Leonidas, now senior king of Sparta. This 
 
THERMOPYLAE. 
 
 149 
 
 small force was expected to "be able to hold the pass 
 until the rest were disengaged ; for the Spartans were 
 keeping a local feast, and the other Greeks were en¬ 
 gaged at the great Olympian festival. Perhaps the very 
 extremity of the danger made the Greeks put their re¬ 
 ligious duties in the foreground; and, indeed, Leonidas 
 and his men went out as to an expected sacrifice. A 
 Persian scout reported to Xerxes that he found the 
 Spartans busy dressing their hair. In surprise the 
 king appealed for explanation to his refugee guest 
 Demaratus, the banished king of Sparta, whom he 
 had brought to Greece in his train. The Spartan 
 warned him that it betokened, on the part of his 
 countrymen, a resistance to the death. Usually care¬ 
 less of their dress, there was one occasion when they 
 polished their arms, combed their long hair and 
 wreathed it with flowers, and put on scarlet vests; it 
 was when they expected a battle which they might 
 not survive. Xerxes waited four days to see if they 
 would retire, and then ordered his Medes and Cissians 
 to bring them to him in chains. For a whole day 
 these made repeated attacks, and were as often re¬ 
 pulsed with heavy loss. The Persian “ Immortals ” 
 were then launched at them, and fared no better. 
 These troops were so called because they were always 
 kept up to the exact number of ten thousand,* and re¬ 
 presented the Imperial Guard. Often pretending flight, 
 so as to draw them on in loose pursuit, the Greeks 
 turned on their enemies and butchered them. Oi.e 
 would have thought that this affair in the front would 
 have made little impression on that dense host; but 
 
 * The forty members of the French Academy are so nick' 
 named for the same reason. 
 
150 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 Xerxes is said to have leapt thrice from his throne as 
 the wave of disturbance reached him, fearing for his 
 whole army. On the third day a native guide came 
 and t>ld the king of a pass over the mountains, by. 
 which the Greeks might be taken in rear, and he 
 selected Hydarnes, the commander of the Immortals, for 
 this important service. The crest of this pass (the 
 existence of which, the Greeks had learned too late) 
 was watched on their behalf by a thousand Phocians, 
 who w r ere warned by hearing the rustling of the 
 dry leaves of the oak-wood, but thinking an attack on 
 their own post was intended, retired to a more defens¬ 
 ible position, and let Hydarnes pass on. The way in 
 which the little band of heroes received the announce¬ 
 ment that their position had been turned should be 
 told in Herodotus's own words :— 
 
 “ First, the soothsayer Megistias, as he inspected 
 the sacrifices, warned them of the death which awaited 
 them with the morrow’s dawn. Then came some 
 deserters, who told them of the march of the Persians 
 round the hill. All this was while it w T as still night. 
 Then, when the day had broken, their scouts came 
 running down from the heights with the same news. 
 Thereupon the Greeks took counsel, and their opinions 
 were divided : for some would not hear of quitting 
 their post, while others advised to do so. Then they 
 parted asunder, and some went off and dispersed each 
 to their own cities, and some prepared to remain there 
 with Leonidas. It is even said that Leonidas himself 
 sent them away, anxious that they should not be slain : 
 but for himself and the Spartans who were there, it 
 ■was not seemly, he said, for them to leave a post which 
 they had once undertaken to keep.” 
 
THERMOPYLAE. 
 
 151 
 
 Those who chose the nobler alternative, besides 
 the Spartans and their Laconian subjects and Helot 
 slaves, who could not help themselves, were seven 
 hundred Thespians and four hundred Thebans—the 
 latter, our author says, detained as hostages, but 
 probably proscribed at home for refusing to submit, 
 like the rest, to Xerxes. The struggle now could 
 have but one issue. Xerxes ordered a general attack 
 at daybreak, and Leonidas, in order to sell the lives 
 of his men as dearly as possible, ordered them to 
 advance from the defile itself, and attack in the open. 
 The Persians perished in crowds—some driven into 
 the sea, some trampled to death by their comrades, 
 others urged forward by stripes only to fall on the 
 deadly lances of the Greeks. 
 
 Dead weight, however, began to tell against the 
 latter, when they had broken their spears in bar¬ 
 barian bodies, and had used .tlieir swords till they 
 were weary. At last Leonidas fell, and over his body 
 the struggle was renewed more furiously than ever. 
 
 “ The dead around him on that day 
 In a semicircle lay.” 
 
 In that swathe of corpses were found two brothers 
 of Xerxes. Four times the Greeks repulsed the enemy, 
 and at last bore off the body of their king. They had 
 but short breathing-space. Their hour was come, when 
 the fatal troops of Hydarncs came covui the hills in 
 their rear. The survivors drew back into the nar¬ 
 rowest part of the pass, within the wall, and posted 
 themselves on a hillock, where a stone lion afterwards 
 marked the resting-place of Leonidas. So did the sur 
 
152 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS 
 
 vivors of the Khyber Pass massacre in 1841 draw 
 together for a last stand on the hillock at Gundamuck, 
 whence a single officer escaped to Peshawur to tell that 
 the British army was exterminated. 
 
 The four hundred Thebans saved themselves by a 
 timely surrender; the remaining four thousand Greeks 
 were buried in a hail-shower of missiles. Herodotus 
 awards the palm of valour to a Spartan wit, who, when 
 lie was told that the Persian arrows would darken the 
 air, said, “ Then we shall have but a shadow-fight ” 
 (or sliam-fight). Such a man would have appreciated 
 the ghastly witticisms of the guillotine in the French 
 Revolution. Xerxes, with an indecency towards the 
 dead quite opposed to all Persian usage, had the head 
 of Leonidas cut off, and fixed upon a pole. 
 
 The Greek combined fleet was commanded by the 
 Spartan Eurybiades. ‘ The Spartans would only co¬ 
 operate on condition that the command should be theirs, 
 though they only furnished ten ships, while the Athen¬ 
 ians mustered one hundred and twenty-seven. Spar¬ 
 tan provincialism forms a strong contrast to the national 
 patriotism of the little state of Plataea, which threw 
 itself heart and soul into the cause of Greek inde¬ 
 pendence. Though landsmen, the Platseans helped to 
 man the Athenian fleet. They were afterwards re¬ 
 warded by vile ingratitude from Sparta, and lukewarm 
 friendship from Athens. 
 
 The whole naval strength counted two hundred and 
 seventy-one three-banked galleys. The Persian dis¬ 
 aster in Hie storm had now been balanced by a 
 Greek disaster in the field ; and the barometer of Hel¬ 
 lenic confidence fell again. There was even talk of 
 
THERMOPYLAE. 
 
 153 
 
 Leaving Euboea to its fate, ancl retreating southwards. 
 Themistocles, the Athenian commander, was a man 
 who had raised himself to a foremost position from 
 small beginnings, which may account for his under¬ 
 standing so w T ell the use and power of money. If 
 Mammon was one of his gods, he could make him his 
 servant for good as well as for evil. The Euboeans, 
 alarmed for their families and goods, besought the 
 Spartan admiral not to desert them; and finding 
 him impracticable, applied to Themistocles—this time 
 backing their prayers with a present of thirty talents. 
 Themistocles knew Eurybiades better than they, and 
 gave him five talents out of the thirty, as if they had 
 come from himself, or from the treasury of the Athen¬ 
 ians, and three more to Adeimantus the Corinthian, 
 whose valour, among all the national commanders, 
 seemed most strongly tempered with discretion. The 
 rest of this secret-service money he kept for himself. 
 
 The Persians, in great fear lest the Greek fleet should 
 escape them under cover of night, detached two hun¬ 
 dred ships, with orders to sail round outside Euboea, 
 and back up the strait between the island and the 
 mainland, and so block in the enemy. 
 
 The battle—or rather battles, for there were three 
 —of Artemisium began by desultory and provocative 
 attacks on the part of the Greeks, Avho, when they 
 had brought the whole Persian fleet upon them, rolled 
 theirs up like a hedgehog or porcupine, with the 
 spines outside. They drew their sterns all together, 
 and formed a circle with their sharp beaks turned every 
 way. In the first melee thirty ships were taken from 
 the Persians. The battle lasted through the mid¬ 
 summer evening, and then each fleet withdrew to its 
 
154 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 mooring. The sea was like oil, and that ominous calm 
 udgneo. from which better sailors than the Greeks 
 would have foretold storm. At midnight it thundered 
 and lightened on Mount Pelion, the wind rose, and 
 the wrecks and bodies were drifted to tire station of 
 the Persian fleet, and struck the crews with dismay. 
 But it fared worse with their detached division, which 
 was utterly destroyed on the rocks on the outer coast 
 of Bubcea. Thus did the good wind Boreas still seem 
 to help his friends. A reinforcement of fifty-three 
 fresh Athenian galleys came up at daybreak, having 
 escaped the storm inside the island. The ancient wa' • 
 ships, even the great “ five-bankers ” of the Romans ar i 
 Carthaginians, could stand no more weather than a 
 river - steam er ; while their great rounded Dutch-built 
 merchant-ships would ride out a moderate gale fairly. 
 On the afternoon of the second day the Greeks attacked 
 again, and sank some Cilician vessels. On the third 
 day about noon the Persians began the attack, while 
 the Greeks kept their station at Artemisinin. There 
 was much fouling among the Persians from their closelv- 
 packed vessels, but they fought well, and neither side 
 could claim much advantage. The Athenians gained 
 most distinction among the allies ; and of the Athenians 
 Cleinias, son of Alcibiades, and father of him of that 
 name who afterwards was the representative Athenian 
 of the new school. He had manned and equipped his 
 trireme at his own expense. The Greeks remained 
 masters of the field—that is, of the scene of action, 
 with the bodies and wrecks; but as half the Athenian 
 fleet had been more or less damaged, they decided on 
 withdrawing southward, especially as they now heard of 
 the loss of Thermopylae. Before he went, Tbemistocles 
 
THERMOPYLAE. 
 
 155 
 
 bad inscriptions graven on the rocks by all the water- 
 ing-places, exhorting the Ionian Greeks now in the 
 service of Persia to desert. If this had no effect on 
 those to whom they were addressed, it would at any 
 rate make them objects of suspicion to the Persians. 
 Then the Greeks sailed away—the Corinthians first, 
 the Athenians, as became them, last. 
 
 While the Persian sailors and marines were wasting 
 the north of Euboea, a herald came from Xerxes order¬ 
 ing a day’s leave ashore to be given, that the crews 
 might view the field of Thermopylae. On the Greek 
 side were four thousand bodies in a heap, which the 
 king pretended were all Spartans or Thespians; on 
 his side lay about a thousand, scattered all over the 
 field. The rest of the Persians had been carefully 
 buried beforehand ; but the trick deceived nobody. 
 
 The Persian army now advanced and ravaged Phocis, 
 and on the farther frontier parted into two divisions, 
 the larger entering the friendly territory of Bceotia, 
 and making for Athens—the smaller proceeding to¬ 
 wards Delphi. Xerxes was well instructed as to the 
 wealth of Apollo’s temple, and must have known by 
 heart all the costly offerings that Croesus had made. 
 The Delphians in dismay consulted their oracle : the 
 god replied that “he could protect his own.” Just 
 when the enemy reached the ascent to the temple, a 
 thunderstorm burst forth, and great rocks came rolling 
 down the steep of Parnassus. The Persians fled, and 
 the Delphians, assisted apparently by two supernatural 
 warriors, emerged from their hiding-places and slew 
 the hindermost. The priests of Apollo were doubtless 
 adepts in the machinery of the stage. 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 SALAMIS. 
 
 *• The man of firm and righteous will. 
 
 No rabble, clamorous for the wrong. 
 
 No tyrant’s brow, whose frown may kill. 
 
 Can shake the strength that makes him strong: 
 
 Not winds, that chafe the sea they sway. 
 
 Nor Jove’s right hand, with lightning red: 
 
 Should Nature’s pillared frame give way. 
 
 That wreck would strike one fearless head.” 
 
 —Conington’s ‘ Horace.’ 
 
 \ 
 
 Such is tlie portrait of Themistocles, as drawn by Kaul- 
 bach of Munich, in his great cartoon of the battle of 
 Salamis. He stands at ease on the deck of his galley, 
 sacrificing to the gods while the battle is ending. We 
 feel that he would be as composed and dignified, only 
 somewhat sadder, if the ruin were coming on him 
 instead of on the enemy. The very self-seeking of 
 this remarkable man in the midst of the most excit¬ 
 ing circumstances bears testimony to the admirable 
 balance of his nature. He somewhat resembles Marl¬ 
 borough, of whom, for all his romantic courage, 
 Macaulay too severely says, that in his youth he loved 
 lucre more than wine or women, and in his middle 
 age he loved lucre more than power or glory. But it 
 
SALA MIS. 
 
 157 
 
 must be remembered that Themistocles was a Greek, 
 and the versatile Ulysses is the very type of a Greek 
 hero. It was not in the Greek character to vie with 
 Darius in his right royal disdain of petty advantage 
 and private revenge. The Greeks would have made far 
 better “ hucksters ” than that king, who Avas so called 
 by his nobles because he was a good financier. And 
 Themistocles w^as a first-rate example of the middle- 
 class burgher, as “the curled Alcibiacles” was of the 
 “ gilded youth ” of a cultivated Greek republic. He 
 was Presence-of-mind incarnate. But he was honest 
 withal—with the honesty of a good Jew with whom 
 one might safely deposit millions, but who would not 
 fail to make every shilling breed. And he was a 
 patriot — one who would die for his country at any 
 moment, but was far too sensible to believe in her or 
 to trust her. The sequel of his life showed that he 
 was right. Themistocles, though not the highest type 
 of man, is perhaps the most perfect specimen of the 
 Greek on record. 
 
 The Athenians had hoped that the combined Greek 
 forces would make a stand in Boeotia, but in this they 
 were disappointed. The primary object of the Spartans 
 was to take care of themselves; their secondary object 
 to save Greece, that they might rule it. They wished 
 the Athenians out of their way, but they felt that if 
 the fire spread to them, it would be coming somewhat 
 close to their 'own home. Could they not sacrilice 
 Athens, and save the Athenians, who would then be 
 their obedient servants'? So they withdrew their 
 land-forces behind the Isthmus of Corinth, which they 
 proceeded to fortify; while the combined fleet was in- 
 
153 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 duced, by the entreaties of the Athenians, to anchor cff 
 the island of Salamis, to which most of the latter pro¬ 
 ceeded to transfer for safety their families and goods. 
 
 The Greeks had received reinforcements which 
 made their fleet larger now than when it had fought 
 at Artemisium. The Athenians now furnished one 
 hundred and eighty of the three hundred and seventy- 
 eight galleys. The I ersian army entered Athens only to 
 find an empty city—none had remained in it but some 
 of the very poorest, or a few obstinate heads who saw 
 in the palisade of the citadel the “ wooden walls” of the 
 oracle, and strengthened it with planks accordingly. 
 The Persians encamped on the Areopagus (the Mars’ 
 Kill of St Paul), and shot lighted arrows at the barri¬ 
 cade, which was soon in flames. Put their storming- 
 parties were foiled by a gallant defence, until a few 
 soldiers scaled a place where no watch was kept, and 
 were followed by others, who put the weak garrison to 
 the sword. The temple of the goddess was plundered 
 and burnt, and Xerxes sent a messenger home to Susa 
 to announce that his vengeance was complete. 
 
 The sacrifice of Athens was unavoidable, yet it 
 greatly affected the. allies, who thought of withdrawing 
 their fleet to the isthmus. But the Athenians felt 
 that this step would almost certainly lead to its break¬ 
 ing up. There was a long war of words between 
 Themistocles, Eurvbiades, and Adeimantus. This 
 last was insolent to the Athenian. “ You have no 
 country now,” said he, and therefore no vote.” The¬ 
 mistocles replied, that with two hundred well-manned 
 ships the Athenians would find a country wherever 
 they chose to land. At last the threat that the 
 Athenians would all emigrate to Italy, and give up 
 
LA MIS. 
 
 159 
 
 the war, prevailed. And preparations were made foi 
 battle. 
 
 Tlie time was naturally one which abounded with 
 portents and prodigies, which were generally inter¬ 
 preted to the disadvantage of the enemy. It was the 
 time of the year of the great procession in honour 
 of Ceres and Bacchus from Eleusis to Athens. It 
 could not be held how, in the presence of the enemy, 
 but a chant was heard in the air, as from no mortal 
 choir, and a column of dust was seen to rise, and spread 
 into a heavy cloud which overshadowed the Persian 
 armament. Some enthusiasts averred that they saw 
 the heroes Ajax, Teucer, and Achilles, battling for their 
 homesteads in Salamis and AEgina. Their images, at 
 all events, were brought out to battle, for good-luck. 
 The Spanish Carlists, when they appointed the image of 
 Nostra Senorade los Dolores generalissimo of theirforces, 
 went a step further; and this was in our remembrance. 
 
 The Persian fleet had already lost six hundred and 
 fifty ships, but Herodotus says that it had been rein¬ 
 forced to the original number by the contingents from 
 the islands and some maritime states—an assertion 
 which seems hardly probable. At Phalerum, the har¬ 
 bour of Athens, a council of war was held. The best 
 head in the fleet of Xerxes was a woman’s—Artemisia, 
 queen of Halicarnassus. This Amazon of the sea 
 seemed almost a match for that goddess of War and 
 Wisdom whom the Athenians worshipped. She al¬ 
 ways appears a special favourite with her townsman 
 Herodotus, who nevertheless is said to have found the 
 tyranny of her family unendurable. She advised 
 Xerxes to bide his time, and let the Greek confederacy 
 fall to pieces from internal dissensions. But the 
 
160 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 party of action prevailed ; the land-forces marched on 
 the isthmus, where Cleombrotus, brother of Leonidas, 
 now commanded, and the fleet weighed anchor. 
 
 The Sparfans and other Greeks within the Peninsula 
 had meanwhile been working night and day, throw¬ 
 ing up a wall of defence across the isthmus. Their 
 panic communicated itself to the fleet, so that Themis- 
 tocles was obliged at last to resort to a desperate strata¬ 
 gem. He sent to the Persian commanders secretly, to 
 tell them that he was a well-wisher of the king’s, and 
 that the Greeks meditated flight. The Persians believed 
 it, and made such arrangements of their forces, under 
 cover of the night, as would effectually prevent the 
 escape of their enemies. The Greek council of captains 
 was still in fierce debate when the Athenian Aristides 
 arrived from iEgina, where he was undergoing ostracism 
 (he was said to have been banished because the people 
 were tired of hearing him called “ the Just ”), and said 
 that he had just succeeded in getting through the enemy, 
 who had completely surrounded the Greeks. All now 
 made up their minds for the inevitable fight, and 
 the commanders addressed the crews—Tliemistocles, 
 with the most powerful eloquence. But the enemy 
 attacked so fiercely that the Greeks hacked water, til 1 
 Ameinias the Athenian, whose blood was hotter than 
 that of the rest, darted forward and engaged an enemy’s 
 ship The two became entangled, and others coming 
 ip to their aid, the conflict became general. The Pei - 
 dans themselves fought better than at Artemisinin, 
 although they became involved in the same inextri¬ 
 cable confusion, while the Greeks never allowed their 
 line to be broken. The very circumstance that tho 
 Persians were under the eye of their king, who over 
 
SAL AM IS. 
 
 1G1 
 
 looked the battle from a neighbouring promontory, told 
 in one respect against them, since it caused those in the 
 rear to press to the front, and thus get involved with 
 their own retreating ships; so that a tangled ball of hulls, 
 oars, and rigging, was formed, which the freely-moving 
 Greeks could strike at and tear to pieces at their leisure. 
 
 The vanquished showed in some instances great gal¬ 
 lantry. The liege lady of Herodotus, Queen Artemisia, 
 distinguished herself as much in the fight as in the 
 council, but in a way of questionable morality. Being 
 hard pressed by an Athenian galley, she turned on one 
 belonging to her own allies, and sank it. The Athenian 
 thought he must have made a mistake, and sheered off, 
 while the unsuspecting Xerxes admired the good service 
 his fair ally seemed to be doing. “ My men,” said he, 
 “fight like women, and my women like men.” Such 
 cool effrontery would have been unintelligible to a 
 Persian. There was a petty king on board the galley 
 which she had sunk; but drowned men tell no tales. 
 
 A brother of the king, Ariabignes, the admiral, 
 perished, and a vast number of noble Persians. The 
 Greeks whose ships were sunk mostly saved themselves 
 by swimming, while the Persians lost more drowned 
 than killed in action. The fugitives tried to reach 
 Phalerum, but there were iEginetans outside, who 
 swooped on them like falcons. The stage-coward of the 
 battles of Artemisium and Salanris is the unfortunate 
 Adeimantus, who is accused of attempted flight. Why 
 was Herodotus, usually so impartial, so spiteful against 
 him and the Corinthians? He may have relied on 
 Athenian information, or perhaps some general im¬ 
 pression of Greek half-hearted ness must have come 
 from Iialicarnassian or Ionian sources. H£schylus, 
 
 a. c. voL iii. L 
 
162 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 in his magnificent tragedy of “ The Persians,” beside 
 which the prose of Herodotus is tame, speaks of 
 nothing but patriotic zeal, singing of paeans, and 
 joyous alacrity. The hero of Waterloo is said to 
 have modestly observed to some ladies who compli¬ 
 mented him on a description of the battle, “ I ought 
 to know all about it, for I was there myself.” So 
 HCsohylus ought to be our best authority for the battle 
 of Salamis, as he was present himself, probably in the 
 ship of his brother Ameinias. According to him, it was 
 the Persians who were caught in a trap by Themis- 
 tocles : thinking the Greeks were in retreat, they had 
 made their arrangements for chase and not for action, 
 which rendered their discomfiture more easy; since 
 not only did those who came up break their fighting 
 order, but, as at Artemisium, they had detached a con¬ 
 siderable squadron to block the entrance to the strait. 
 The poet describes the chase as lasting till midnight, in 
 the open sea, the Greeks destroying the helpless enemy 
 “like fishermen harpooning in a shoal of tunny-fish.” 
 All the shore of Attica was strewn with wrecks. 
 
 “ Slow sinks, more lovely ere his race be run, 
 
 Behind Morea’s hills the setting sun ; 
 
 Not as in northern climes, obscurely bright, 
 
 But one unclouded blaze of living light! 
 
 O’er the hushed deep the yellow beam he throws, 
 Gilds the green wave, that trembles as it glows. 
 
 On old Angina’s rock, and Hydra’s isle, 
 
 The god of gladness sheds his parting smile ; 
 
 O’er his own regions lingering, loves to shine, 
 
 Though there his altars are no more divine. 
 Descending fast, the mountain-shadows kiss 
 Thy glorious gulf, unconquered Salamis !”* 
 
 * Byron—“ The Corsair.” 
 
SAL A MIS. 
 
 163 
 
 But never did the sun of Greece set on a scene su 
 memorable, and so beautiful in one sense, in the 
 midst of its terror, as on that autumn evening in the 
 year 480 b.c. There was yet more to be done, but 
 Greece and civilisation were safe. 
 
 The destruction of the grand fleet necessitated the 
 retreat of the heterogeneous multitude which called 
 itself the grand army, for it depended on the fleet for 
 most of its supplies. But it was hoped that a picked 
 force might still succeed, and Xerxes left behind 
 300,000 troops under the command of Mardonius, 
 who went into winter quarters in Thessaly, when he 
 started homewards with all possible speed. This 
 flight may have had State reasons for it, like that of 
 Xapoleon from Russia, for the outlying provinces were 
 always ready for insurrection; but, considering his 
 character, the simple interpretation of his conduct 
 appears the most probable, that he was thoroughly 
 cowed. Themistocles wished to follow up the victory 
 by hunting the fugitives from island to island, and 
 then destroying the bridge of boats over the Helle¬ 
 spont. When he was overruled by Eurybiades, he 
 gave out that he had changed his mind, and sent a 
 faithful slave to find Xerxes, and tell him that, out 
 of personal goodwill to his majesty, Themistocles had 
 prevented the Greeks from destroying the bridge. 
 
 An unusually early winter, as in the Russian cam¬ 
 paign of 1812, added to the sufferings of the retreat. 
 According to the tragedian iEschylus, great numbers 
 perished in attempting to cross the frozen Strymon, 
 thus forestalling the Beresina disaster. The Helle¬ 
 spont bridge had been broken up, not by the Greeks 
 but by a storm; but there was no difficulty in 
 
164 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 ferrying across the miserable remnant in boats. At 
 Abydos they came on supplies, and many who had 
 survived starvation on grass and tree-bark died of sur¬ 
 feit. One version of the account makes Xerxes leave 
 his army on the Strymon, and take ship himself for 
 Asia. A storm coming on, the ship was in such 
 danger that the pilot declared that there was no 
 chance of safety unless some of those on board would 
 sacrifice themselves to lighten it, and appealed to the 
 loyalty of the Persians, who accordingly leapt over¬ 
 board. It is added that, on coming safely to land, 
 the king presented the pilot with a golden crown for 
 saving his own life, and then had him beheaded for caus¬ 
 ing the death of so many of his gallant servants. The 
 latter part looks like the repetition of an anecdote of 
 Cambyses ; and indeed Herodotus scarcely believes 
 the story, as he observes that the Persians might hav8 
 been sent below, and the Phoenician crew sacrificed. 
 It did not seem to strike him that sailors are of more 
 use in a storm than the best soldiers, and the self¬ 
 devoting loyalty of the Persians to their monarch’s 
 person is well known. 
 
 The Greeks passed an anxious winter, for Mardonius 
 remained in Thessaly, making his preparations for 
 action in the spring. Their allied fleet, a hundred 
 and ten strong, was persuaded to come as far as Delos 
 by an embassy from Asia (one of whom was an 
 Herodotus, possibly a relative of our author), who re¬ 
 presented that the Greek colonies there were ripe for 
 revolt. They were, however, deterred for the present 
 from proceeding farther; possibly because a Lacedae¬ 
 monian, naturally a landsman, was first in command. 
 Mardonius in the mean time spent the winter in con- 
 
SA LAM IS. 
 
 165 
 
 
 suiting oracles, tlie answers of wliieli do not seem to 
 have been particularly encouraging, as he afterwards 
 resorted to the more statesmanlike measure of endeav¬ 
 ouring to detach the Athenians from the Greek alli¬ 
 ance. For this mission he selected Alexander, the son 
 of Amyntas, prince of Macedon. The Spartans, hear¬ 
 ing of it, sent ambassadors on their part to beseech 
 them not to desert the cause of Greece. The Athe¬ 
 nians, with something of a lofty contempt, bade them 
 have no fear, and told Alexander that they would 
 carry on the war with the destroyers of their city and 
 temples “ so long as the sun held its course in heaven” 
 —and warned him, as he valued his safety, never again 
 to bring them a like proposal. They were terribly in 
 earnest;. for when one Lycidas, a fellow-townsman, 
 counselled submission on another occasion, they stoned 
 him to death. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 PLATiEA AND MYCALE. 
 
 u A day of onsets of despair ! 
 
 Dashed on every rocky square, 
 
 Their surging charges foamed themselves away. 
 
 Last the Prussian trumpet blew; 
 
 Through the long-tormented air 
 Heaven flashed a sudden jubilant ray, 
 
 And down we swept, and charged, and overthrew.” 
 
 —Tennyson : “ Ode on the Death 
 of the Duke of Wellington.” 
 
 TrtE concluding act of the great historical drama opens 
 with the spring of b.c. 479. Mardonius has come 
 south from Thessaly, and is gleaning in Athens what¬ 
 ever the spoiler, Xerxes, had left. The Athenians are 
 again in their island-asylum of Salamis. The Spartans 
 are marching on the Isthmus of Corinth, under the 
 command of Pausanias, who had succeeded his father 
 Cleombrotus in the regency and the guardiansnip 
 of the young son of Leonidas, who did not live to 
 reign. After a demonstration towards Megara, 
 where he hoped to cut off the advanced - guard 
 of the allies, Mardonius proceeded into the Theban 
 territory, where he constructed a vast fortified camp 
 on the bank of the river Asopus. A general ad- 
 
PLAT.EA AND MYCALE. 
 
 1G7 
 
 vance was now made by the Peloponnesians from 
 the isthmus to Eleusis, where they were joined by the 
 Athenian contingent from Salamis. When they had 
 ascertained where the Persians were, they set them¬ 
 selves in array along the highlands of Cithaeron. As 
 they seemed indisposed to come down into the plain, 
 Mardonius sent his cavalry to feel their position, under 
 the command of Masistius. 
 
 This Murat of the Persian army was a hand¬ 
 some giant, who rode a white Msasan charger, whose 
 accoutrements, as well as those of his rider, glit¬ 
 tered with gold. So rode Charles of Burgundy at 
 Granson or at Morat. In the present day such cos¬ 
 tume is scarcely to be seen further west than India, 
 and some tall Rajah, full dressed for the Governor- 
 General’s durbar, would give a good idea of liow Ma¬ 
 sistius looked at the head of his cuirassiers. These 
 galloped up to the Greek infantry in troops, hurling 
 their javelins, and calling them “ women ” because they 
 did not come on. The Megarians were in the most 
 exposed place. Being hard pressed, they sent to 
 Pausanias for succour. When he called for volunteers, 
 the Athenians promptly offered, and three hundred 
 picked men, supported by archers, moved up. The 
 charges continued without cessation, Masistius leading 
 with the utmost gallantry, and presenting a conspicu¬ 
 ous mark to the bowmen. At last an arrow pierced 
 the side of his charger. He reared back from the 
 agony of the wound, and threw his rider, who now 
 lay at the mercy of his enemies, stunned by his 
 fall, and, like the knights of the middle ages, help¬ 
 less from the weight of his panoply. His vest 
 of Tyrian crimson was pierced with spear-points, but 
 
168 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 still he lived, for under it he wore a shirt of golden 
 mail. At last a hand more dexterous than the rest 
 pierced his brain through one of the eye-holes of his 
 visor, for he was too proud to ask for quarter. Amongst 
 his own followers, as they charged and wheeled about, 
 no one knew that he was dead, and they might even 
 have ridden over the body of their unconscious com¬ 
 mander, as the Prussian cavalry did over Blucher when 
 he lay under his dead horse at Ligny. But when they 
 retired lie was immediately missed, for there was no 
 one to give the word of command. All that they could 
 now do for him was to recover his body, and with this 
 object the squadrons united and made a combined onset. 
 To meet this, the Athenians called up other Greek 
 troops to their assistance. While they were coming, 
 a fierce struggle took place for the body, which the 
 Athenians were obliged to leave till their reinforcements 
 joined them. But as it could not be easily removed 
 by cavalry, it ultimately remained in possession of 
 the Greeks. Many Persian knights shared the fate of 
 their commander, so that the rest of the troopers were 
 obliged to ride back to Mardonius with the news of 
 their misfortune. The death of Masistius was con¬ 
 sidered such a blow that it was bewailed by the whole 
 army, corps after corps taking up the dole of theii 
 Adonis, till it resounded through all Boeotia, and horses 
 and men were ordered to be shorn and shaven as a 
 sign of public mourning; for Masistius, next to Mardo¬ 
 nius, was considered the greatest man in the army. Tc 
 the Greeks his fall was a matter of equal rejoicing, and 
 the handsome corpse was carried along the lines to 
 raise the spirits of the soldiers. Their fear of cavalry 
 was now wearing off, and a general forward movement 
 
PLATjEA and MYCALE. 1G9* 
 
 was made towards the plain of Plataea, where water 
 was more abundant. They took up a new posi¬ 
 tion near the Gargaphian Fountain (the modern Yer* 
 gantiani). Here a hot debate arose between the 
 Tegeans and Athenians, each demanding the honour 
 of occupying the left wing (the Spartans always claimed 
 the right), which was decided, chiefly on mythological 
 grounds, in favour of the Athenians. The army was 
 thus marshalled : on the right were five thousand 
 heavy-armed Spartans, with thirty-five thousand light- 
 armed Helots, and of other Laconians five thousand ; 
 then the Tegeans, then the other Greek contingents, till 
 on the extreme left six hundred Plataeans stood by the 
 side of eight thousand Athenians under Aristides. The 
 decision of Greek battles mainly rested on the heavy¬ 
 armed infantry. Each man of these was generally at¬ 
 tended by his military servant, and looked upon himself 
 as an officer and a gentleman. The Athenian contin¬ 
 gent probably represented all who were not engaged on 
 board the fleet. The remnant of the Thespians—whose 
 city as well as Plataea had been sacked—eighteen hun¬ 
 dred in number, were also there, but now too much 
 impoverished to serve as heavy-armed. The sum total 
 of the army was one hundred and ten thousand men, 
 being less than one to three to the army of the king. 
 
 Mardonius honoured the Spartans by confronting 
 them Avith his best troops, the Persians ; he posted 
 his Medes, Bactrians, Indians, and Sacae opposite the 
 other Greeks, and threatened the Athenians with liis 
 Greek and Macedonian allies. Besides his three hun¬ 
 dred thousand, he had a number of small contingents, 
 such as marines from the fleet, and perhaps fifty thou¬ 
 sand Greek auxiliaries. It was not the custom for 
 
170 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 any army to engage until tlie omens liad been pro¬ 
 nounced favourable ; and the soothsayers on both sides 
 constantly reported that they were favourable for de¬ 
 fence, but not for attack. After the two armies had 
 thus watched each other for eight days, Mardonius was 
 advised to occupy the passes of Cithaeron, as the Greeks 
 were constantly being reinforced from that quarter, and 
 accordingly despatched cavalry to a pass leading to 
 Plataea, called “Three Heads” by the Boeotians, and 
 “Oakheads” by the Athenians (the Greek words 
 sounding much the same). This foray resulted in 
 destroying a military train of five hundred sumpter 
 animals, which was making its way to the Greek army. 
 The two next days were passed in demonstrations of 
 cavalry up to the Asopus, which ran between the 
 armies, the Theban horse showing great alacrity in 
 annoying their Hellenic brethren, but leaving the serious 
 fighting to the Persians. On the eleventh day Mar¬ 
 donius, tired of inaction, held a council of war, the 
 result of which was that he ordered an attack on the 
 next day, in spite of the still unfavourable auspices. 
 
 In the dead of night, as the armies lay in position, 
 the Athenian sentries were accosted by a solitary horse¬ 
 man who asked to speak to their commanders. When 
 they came to the front, he told them that the omens 
 had till now restrained Mardonius, but that yesterday 
 he had “bid the omens farewell,” and intended to 
 fight on the morrow. He added, that he hoped that 
 his present service would not be forgotten ; he was of 
 Greek origin, and a secret friend of the Greeks: 
 his name was Alexander, the son of Amvntas of 
 Macedonia. As soon as the message had been reported 
 to Pausanias, he, with a scarcely Spartan spirit, 
 
PL A TJEA AND M YCALE 
 
 171 
 
 wished the Athenians to change places with him, 
 as, from their experience at Marathon, they knew 
 the Persian manner of lighting "better. And this man¬ 
 oeuvre, dangerous as it was to attempt in the face of 
 the enemy, would have "been executed, had not Mar- 
 donius discovered it, and made a corresponding dispo¬ 
 sition of his own army. He then sent a herald to 
 reproach the Spartans, and challenge them to light man 
 for man, with or without the rest of the combatants, as 
 they pleased. As no answer was given, his cavalry 
 were launched en masse against the Greek army. The 
 mounted archers caused them great annoyance, and de¬ 
 stroyed the Gargaphian well, from which their water 
 supply was drawn. The supplies from the rear having 
 "been cut off, the Greeks determined on a westward 
 movement towards the city of Platsea, where they would 
 be within reach of water. Half the army were to 
 carry out this movement in the night, while the other 
 half were to fall back on Cithaeron, to protect their 
 line of communication with their base behind the 
 isthmus. The first division had suffered so much dur¬ 
 ing the day, that in their joy at the respite they retired 
 too far, and never halted till they reached the pre¬ 
 cincts of a temple of Juno, close to Plataea itself. 
 Pausanias himself was following, but he was kept 
 back by the insubordination of a sturdy colonel 
 named Amompharetus, who objected to any strategic 
 movements which looked like running away. At 
 length he was' left to follow or not, as he pleased, 
 while the rest of the Spartans defiled along the safe 
 and hilly ground, the Athenians striking across the 
 exposed plain. Mardonius had now some reason to 
 despise his enemy, and he ordered all his cavalry to 
 
172 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERObOTUS. 
 
 charge, and the infantry to advance at quick march, 
 crossing the Asopus. The Athenians were hidden 
 from him by a series of knolls, but he pressed hard 
 on the steps of the Lacedaemonians and Tegeans. 
 Fortune sometimes favours the timid as well as the 
 brave. Seeing Mardonius apparently pursuing the 
 enemy, the rest of his army at once broke their ranks 
 and followed in disorder, each man eager to be in at 
 the death of the quarry which his commander was 
 hunting down. Pausanias had already sent a mounted 
 orderly to the Athenians to beg that they would come 
 to his assistance, or at least send their archers, as he 
 was sorely vexed by the cavalry. They could not 
 comply, as they wanted all their strength to repulse 
 a general attack which was just then being made on 
 them by the king’s Greeks. Pausanias halted his 
 line; but still the sacrifices were unpropitious. From 
 behind the Persian breastwork of shields came a rain 
 of arrows, and the breastwork itself seemed impreg¬ 
 nable. The Lacedaemonians and Tegeans were falling 
 fast. At last Pausanias espied at no great distance the 
 temple of Juno, and offered up a prayer to the god¬ 
 dess. The omens at once changed, as by magic. The 
 Tegeans dashed at the enemy’s fence of shields. The 
 Spartans followed, and the battle was won. The Per¬ 
 sians fought like bull-dogs, singly or in knots, though 
 their long dress, says the chronicler, was terribly 
 in the way. They wrenched away or snapt asunder 
 the long Greek lances, and made play with their 
 hangers. Mardonius, conspicuous on a white horse, 
 like Ney at "Waterloo, was the “ bravest of the brave.” 
 But at last a cry rose that Mardonius was down, and 
 at that cry the Persians wavered, and fled in wild 
 
PLAICE A AND MY VALE. 
 
 173 
 
 disorder to the great stockade which had been built 
 to protect their camp. But Artabazus, who had now 
 come up, had kept his forty thousand men in hand 
 when he saw the scramble of the attack; and when 
 he saw the repulse, he made no attempt to save the 
 day, but faced about and at once began an orderly 
 retreat on the Hellespont. Some of the Greeks who 
 had joined the Persian king fought desperately in 
 their miserable cause. Three hundred noble Thebans 
 are said to have fallen in the front of the battle. 
 This may have been the “ Sacred Band ” which fought 
 under Epaminondas in later history, and which con¬ 
 sisted of friends sworn to live and die together. These 
 Thebans fought indeed “with halters round their 
 necks : ” for after the victory, Pausanias insisted on 
 the surrender of the chiefs of the late movement, 
 and executed them all. When the Greeks who had 
 made the mistake of retreating too far turned back 
 in disorder to get their share of the glory, poetical 
 justice overtook them in the shape of a charge of 
 the Persian and Theban cavalry, which stung them 
 with the energy of a doomed swarm of wasps. They 
 lost six hundred men, and were scattered to the heights 
 of Citliaeron. All w r as not yet over. A new battle 
 began at the Persian camp, which vigorously repelled 
 the onslaughts of the Spartans and their allies. It 
 was not till the Athenians came up (who understood 
 “ wall-fighting,” says Herodotus) that the day could be 
 6poken of as finally decided. They managed to break 
 or upset the “ abattis,” and the Tegeans again led 
 the forlorn hope through it or over it. Then began 
 the slaughter. Only three thousand were left alive 
 of the whole Persian army. This seems incredible, 
 
174 
 
 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 especially in connection with the small number of tho 
 allies who fell in the action, as given by Herodotus. 
 But the vanquished were possibly impounded in their 
 fortified camp, like the wretched Mamelukes whom 
 Mehemet Ali destroyed in the court of a fortress. 
 
 The plunder was immense. The tent of Mardonius, 
 with all the royal plate which the king had left him. 
 his manger of bronze, gold and silver in all shapes, 
 splendidly inlaid arms, vestments, horses, camels, beau¬ 
 tiful women, became the dangerous prize of the needy 
 Peloponnesians, who, to avert Nemesis, offered a tithe- 
 of all to the gods. Pausanias buried with due hon¬ 
 ours the body of the brave Mardonius, though he was 
 strongly urged by an iEginetan of high rank to remem¬ 
 ber how that of Leonidas had been treated by Xerxes. 
 “ Would you have me humble my country in the dust, 
 now that I have just raised her 1” was the Spartan’s 
 answer. And he bid the proposer be thankful that he 
 answered hiir only in words. 
 
 It seems to have been the invidious custom in 
 all Greek battles to assign to one or two men the 
 prize of valour, and our author always gives their 
 names. The bravest of all was adjudged to be the 
 Spartan Aristodemus, sole survivor of the glorious 
 three hundred of Thermopylae. He could not bear 
 his life, and now lost it purposely ; therefore he was 
 refused the usual honours. Sophanes was proclaimed 
 the bravest of the Athenians : he was in fact so 
 brave that (perhaps adopting an idea from his expe¬ 
 rience afloat) he wore an anchor and chain, by which 
 he moored himself to his post in action.* It is 
 
 * So the wounded at the battle of Clontarf, in Ireland, 
 said to have got themselves tied to stakes. 
 
PLATTE A AND MYCALE. 
 
 l75 
 
 a pity to lose our faith in so quaint an expedient; 
 but there was another version of the story, says our 
 honest chronicler, that he bore an anchor as the device 
 on his shield. The prudent Artabazus reached Byzan¬ 
 tium safely, though he was roughly handled on the road 
 by the Thracians and Macedonians, the latter of whom 
 had been from the first favourable to the Greeks. 
 
 This “crowning mercy” of Plataea, as Cromwell 
 would have called it, was supplemented by a brilliant 
 action which took place on the same day at Mycale, on 
 the coast of Ionia. 
 
 When the season for navigation had come, the Greek 
 fleet under Leotychides, which had remained at Delos, 
 pushed across to Samos, but the prey they had ex¬ 
 pected to find there had flown. The Persian fleet had 
 placed itself under the protection of a land force of 
 sixty thousand men under Tigranes, appointed by 
 Xerxes governor of Ionia, and was drawn up on shore 
 at Mycalk, protected by a rampart and palisade. The 
 Greeks came provided with gangway boards, and all 
 other appliances for naval action. But the Persians 
 were morally sea-sick, therefore Leotychides disem¬ 
 barked. his troops at his leisure. A mysterious rumour 
 of a great victory in Boeotia, ascribed to some divine 
 messenger, but possibly brought as a telegram by tire- 
 signals, put the Greeks in heart. Tt was afternoon, 
 and the field of Plataea had been fought in the morning. 
 The Athenians were already engaged, when the Lacedae¬ 
 monians came up, having to make a circuit by a rugged 
 way intersected with ravines. As at Plataea, the Per¬ 
 sians fought well as long as their rampart of bucklers 
 stood upright: even when it gave way, they broke up 
 into clusters, which fought like wild boars at bay. 
 
176 THE HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 The onset of the Athenians was the more furious that 
 they feared to have their laurels snatched from them 
 by their friends. They drove the Persians into their 
 camp, and, more fortunate than their brethren at 
 Plata3a, entered it pell - mell with the flying enemy. 
 The barbarian auxiliaries fled where they could, but 
 the Persians themselves still held out desperately, 
 until the Lacedaemonians came up and completed the 
 defeat. Tigranes and Mardontes died as became Per¬ 
 sian officers, fighting gallantly to the last. The Mile¬ 
 sians in the Persian service, who had been posted to 
 guard the passes of the mountain, turned on the 
 fugitives and cut them up; for revolt became general 
 among the Ionian Greeks as soon as the battle was 
 over, and Samos, Chios, Lesbos, and other islands, 
 joined the confederacy for reprisals against Persia. 
 
 The Greek fleet now sailed to the Hellespont, where 
 they found the bridge of boats destroyed. Then 
 Leotychides went home with his Spartans, but the 
 Athenians stayed and besieged Sestos, which held out 
 till the autumn, when it was taken by famine. There 
 had been a serious debate whether it would not be 
 better to remove the Ionian colonists altogether, and 
 settle them in Greece, than leave them to the future 
 tender mercies of Persia. Put the cpiestion was settled 
 by the Athenians taking their Asiatic colonies into 
 dose league and alliance. 
 
 In those two memorable years, which end the 
 narrative of Herodotus, Europe had established its 
 preponderance over Asia for ever. The last tableau 
 of his great epic drama is almost lost in its blaze 
 of glory, and it is time that the curtain should 
 fall. It is true that Herodotus hardly recoguises 
 
PLATJEA AND MYCALE. 
 
 177 
 
 tliis, and tries to amuse his readers for some time 
 longer with the not very edifying court-scandal of 
 Susa. Xerxes had infinite trouble with the ladies 
 of his court. The fierce and jealous sultana Ames- 
 tris, who treated her rival with such fiendish cruelty, 
 may he the Vashti of the Book of Esther, as Alias- 
 uerus is supposed to be the Scriptural form of hei 
 husband’s name. Nemesis was fully satisfied when 
 Xerxes himself fell a victim to a palace intrigue ; 
 hut this is not mentioned by Herodotus, nor that 
 a statue of that dread Power was placed on the spot 
 where he had been a spectator of the destruction of 
 his fleet. 
 
 a. c. vol. iii. 
 
CHAPTER Xin. 
 
 CONCLUDING REMARKS. 
 
 It lias thus been attempted to give, in a succinct 
 form, the general drift and character of the great 
 work of Herodotus. In the original, his liquid and 
 pellucid Ionian dialect constitutes one of the greatest 
 charms of his style. In simple perspicuity he forms 
 a remarkable contrast to the terse and gnarled Thucyd¬ 
 ides, who propounds so many puzzles to the classical 
 scholar. But no ancient author is so profitable to 
 read in a good translation. A good translation is 
 like a good photograph, giving distinctive traits, and 
 light and shade, hut no life or colour. Our attempt 
 is a coloured sketch on a small scale, and not a photo¬ 
 graph, of a great book. 
 
 Herodotus may be considered, according to the stan¬ 
 dard of his time, as a decidedly veracious historian. 
 And his veracity is of the kind that wears well. It is 
 impossible to refuse to credit him with general impar¬ 
 tiality; and if he erred at all, the modern reader will 
 readily pardon his excessive sympathy with the Athe¬ 
 nians. Yet he does full justice to the gallantry, gener¬ 
 osity, and other high qualities of the Persians. Ho 
 was born, we must remember, a Persian subject,—for 
 Halica^iaasus did not recover its independence until 
 
COXCLUDING REMARKS. 
 
 17b 
 
 he had grown np to manhood—and he could speak 
 from experience of the masters of Ionia, that their rule 
 was, on the whole, just and equal. His own town, 
 indeed, had met with exceptional kindness from her 
 liege lords. Hence he has none of the usual Greek 
 •contempt of and antipathy to “barbarians,” or peo¬ 
 ple speaking an unknown tongue, which is a primd 
 facie reason for dislike with the vulgar of all nations. 
 His great merit is that of Homer and Shakespeare, a 
 broad catholicity of sentiment in observing and esti¬ 
 mating character. He has the strongest sympathy with 
 heroism whenever displayed, an exquisite feeling for 
 humorous situations, and, as naturally connected with 
 humour, intense pathos when the subject admits of it. 
 He has the head of a sage, the heart of a mother, and 
 the simple apprehension of a child. And if his style is 
 redundant with a sort of Biblical reiteration, it is always 
 clear and luminous. There can never be any mistake 
 about his meaning, as long as no corruption has crept 
 into his text, which, when it happens, is the fault of 
 his transcribers, and not his own. His ethical portraits 
 are above all invaluable, and, however fabulous the cir¬ 
 cumstances with which they are connected, must have 
 been true to the life, from their evidently undesigned 
 consistency. The benignant and vain Croesus, the am¬ 
 bitious Cyrus, the truculent Cambyses, the chivalrous 
 yet calculating Darius, the wild Cleomenes, the wise 
 and wary Themistocles, the frantic Xerxes—the very 
 type of the infatuation by which the divine vengeance 
 wrought—these, and a host of other portraits of living 
 men, can only be compared in their verisimilitude with 
 the immortal creations of Shakespeare. 
 
 Hot a few pleasant anecdotes—mythical, ethical, 
 
ISO TUB HISTORY OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 social, and historical—as well as nearly all the minor 
 * affluents of the .main stream of narrative, have been 
 passed over or barely glanced at, for want of spaca 
 Some indelicacies have been softened in stories too 
 good to omit, but this process leaves their spirit un¬ 
 changed. For our author is always antique and 
 always natural. When he errs against refinement, 
 it is in a sort of infantine naughtiness — not with 
 the perverse intention of a modern writer. Indeed, 
 his high moral principle cannot fail to strike even 
 a careless reader. His blood plainly boils at in¬ 
 justice or cruelty; and whatever superstition he may 
 have inherited with his religious creed, he has an in¬ 
 tense faith in an overruling Providence, which, spite 
 of some anomalies which puzzle him, as they have done 
 the wisest in all ages, does on the whole ordain that 
 “ the righteous shall be recompensed in the earth- 
 much more the wicked and the sinner.” 
 
 END OF HERO DOT mi 
 
A ncient Classics for English Readers 
 
 EDITED BY THE 
 
 REV. W. LUCAS COLLINS. M.A. 
 
 C M S A B 
 
1 
 
 CONTENTS OF THE SERIES, 
 
 HOMER : THE ILIAD.By the Editor. 
 
 HOMER: THE ODYSSEY, . . By the Same. ' 
 
 HERODOTUS, ... By George C. Swayne, M.A. 
 
 C/ESAR,.By Anthony Trollope. 
 
 VIRGIL,.By the Editor. 
 
 HORACE,.By Theodore Martin. 
 
 ALSCHYLUS, By the Right Rev. the Bishop of Colombo. 
 XENOPHON, . . By Sir Alex. Grant, Bart., LL.D. 
 
 CICERO,.By the Editor. 
 
 SOPHOCLES, ... By Clifton W. Collins, M.A. 
 PLINY, By A. Church. M.A., and W. J. Brodribb, M.A. 
 EURIPIDES, ... By William Bodham Donne. 
 JUVENAL, .... By Edward Walford, M.A. 
 
 ARISTOPHANES,.By the Editor. 
 
 HESIOD AND THEOGNIS, By the Rev. James Davies, M.aT 
 PLAUTUS AND TERENCE, ... By the Editor. 
 
 TACITUS, .... By William Bodham Donne. 
 
 LUCIAN,.By the Editor. 
 
 PLATO,.By Clifton W. Collins. 
 
 THE GREEK ANTHOLOGY, ... By Lord Neaves. 
 
 LIVY,.By the Editor. 
 
 OVID,.By the Rev. A. Church, M.A. 
 
 CATULLUS, TIBULLUS, & PROPERTIUS, ByJ. Davies, M.A. 
 DEMOSTHENES, . . By the Rev. W. J. Brodribb, M.A. 
 
 ARISTOTLE, . . .By Sir Alex. Grant, Bart., LL.D. 
 
 THUCYDIDES.By the Editor. 
 
 LUCRETIUS.By W. H. Mallock, M.A. 
 
 PINDAR, ... By the Rev. F. D. Morice, M.A, 
 
THE COMMENTARIES 
 
 OF 
 
 C M S A R 
 
 BY 
 
 ■w 
 
 ANTHONY TROLLOPE 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 
 J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 ..I 
 
 
 
 • I I 
 
 
 
 
 

 CONTENTS 
 
 CRAP. PAGB 
 
 I. INTRODUCTION, ..1 
 
 II. FIRST BOOK OF THE WAR IN GAUL.—CjESAR DRIVES 
 FIRST THE SWISS AND THEN THE GERMANS OUT 
 OF GAUL. —B.C. 58,.28 
 
 III. SECOND BOOK OF THE WAR IN GAUL. — CiESAR SUB¬ 
 
 DUES THE BELGIAN TRIBES.—B. C. 57, . . 45 
 
 IV. THIRD BOOK OF THE WAR IN GAUL. —CAESAR SUB¬ 
 
 DUES THE WESTERN TRIBES OF GAUL.—B. C. 56, 54 
 
 V. FOURTH BOOK OF THE WAR IN GAUL. — CESAR 
 CROSSES THE RHINE, SLAUGHTERS THE GER¬ 
 MANS, AND GOES INTO BRITAIN.—B.C. 55, . 63 
 
 VI. FIFTH BOOK OF THE WAR IN GAUL. — CiESAR*S 
 SECOND INVASION OF BRITAIN. — THE GAULS 
 RISE AGAINST HIM.—B.C. 54, . . . .74 
 
 VII. SIXTH BOOK OF THE WAR IN GAUL.—CiESAR PUR¬ 
 SUES AMBIORIX.—THE MANNERS OF THE GAULS 
 AND OF THE GERMANS ARE CONTRASTED.— 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 vf 
 
 VIII. SEVENTH BOOK OF THE WAR IN GAUL.—THE REVOLT 
 
 OF VERCINGETORIX.—B.C. 52, . . . . 100 
 
 IX. FIRST BOOK OF THE CIVIL WAR. — C.ESAR CROSSES 
 THE RUBICON.—FOLLOWS POMPEY TO BRUNDU- 
 SIUM.—AND CONQUERS AFRANIUS IN SPAIN.— 
 
 B.C. 49,.116 
 
 X. SECOND BOOK OF THE CIVIL WAR.—THE TAKING OF 
 MARSEILLES.—VARRO IN THE SOUTH OF SPAIN. 
 
 —THE FATE OF CURIO BEFORE UTICA.—B.C. 49, 131 
 
 XI. THIRD BOOK OF THE CIVIL WAR.—CiESAR FOLLOWS 
 POMPEY INTO ILLYRIA.—THE LINES OF PETRA 
 AND THE BATTLE OF PIIARSALIA.—B.C. 48, . 146 
 
 XII. CONCLUSION, • .. 174 
 
CMS A R. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 It may perhaps be fairly said that the Commentaries 
 of Caesar are the beginning of modern history. He 
 wrote, indeed, nearly two thousand years ago; but he 
 wrote, not of times then long past, but of things which 
 were done under his own eyes, and of his own deeds. 
 And he wrote of countries with which we are familiar, 
 —of our Britain, for instance, which he twice invaded, 
 of peoples not so far remote but that we can identify 
 them with our neighbours and ourselves; and he so 
 wrote as to make us feel that we are reading actual 
 history, and not romance. The simplicity of the nar¬ 
 ratives which he has left is their chief characteristic, 
 if not their greatest charm. We feel sure that the cir¬ 
 cumstances which he tells us did occur, and that they 
 occurred very nearly as he tells them. He deals with 
 those great movements in Europe from which have 
 a. c. vol. iv. A 
 
2 
 
 C JUS AIL 
 
 sprung, and to which we can trace, the present politi¬ 
 cal condition of the nations. Interested as the scholar, 
 or the reader of general literature, may he in the great 
 deeds of the heroes of Greece, and in the burning words 
 of Greek orators, it is almost impossible for him to 
 connect by any intimate and thoroughly-trusted link 
 the fortunes of Athens, or Sparta, or Macedonia, with 
 our own times and our own position. It is almost 
 equally difficult to do so in regard to the events of 
 Pome and the Poman power before the time of Caesar. 
 We cannot realise and bring home to ourselves the 
 Punic Wars or the Social War, the Scipios and the 
 Gracchi, or even the contest for power between Marius 
 and Sulla, as we do the Gallic Wars and the invasion 
 of Britain, by which the civilisation of Pome was first 
 carried westwards, or the great civil wars,—the “ Bei- 
 lum Civile,”—by which was commenced a line of em¬ 
 perors continued almost down to our own days, and to 
 which in some degree may be traced the origin and 
 formation of almost every existing European nation. 
 It is no doubt true that if we did but know the facts 
 correctly, we could refer back every political and social 
 condition of the present day to the remotest period of 
 man’s existence; but the interest fails us when the 
 facts become doubtful, and when the mind begins to fear 
 that history is mixed with romance. Herodotus is so 
 mythic that what delight we have in his writings conies 
 in a very slight degree from any desire on our part to 
 form a continuous chain from the days of which he 
 wrote down to our own. Between the marvels of He¬ 
 rodotus and the facts of Caesar there is a great interval, 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 3 
 
 from which have come down to us the works of various 
 noble historians; hut with Caesar it seems that that 
 certainty commences which we would wish to regard as 
 the distinguishing characteristic of modem history. 
 
 It must he remembered from the beginning that 
 Caesar wrote only of what he did or of what he caused 
 to he done himself. At least he only so wrote in the 
 two works of his which remain to us. We are told 
 that he produced much besides his Commentaries,— 
 among other works, a poem,—but the two Commen¬ 
 taries are all of his that we have. The former, in seven 
 books, relates the facts of his seven first campaigns in 
 Gaul for seven consecutive years ; those campaigns in 
 which he reduced the nations living between the Rhine, 
 the Rhone, the Mediterranean, the Pyrenees, and the 
 sea which we now call the British Channel.* The 
 latter Commentary relates the circumstances of the 
 civil war in which he contended for power against Poni- 
 pey, his former colleague, with Crassus, in the first 
 triumvirate, and established that empire to which 
 Augustus succeeded after a second short-lived trium¬ 
 virate between himself and Lepidus and Antony. 
 
 It is the object of this little volume to describe 
 Caesar’s Commentaries for the aid of those who do 
 not read Latin, and not to write Roman history' 
 but it may be well to say something, in a few intro¬ 
 ductory lines, of the life and character of our author. 
 We are all more or less familiar with the name of 
 Julius Caesar. In our early days we learned that he 
 
 * There is an eighth hook, referring to an eighth and ninth 
 campaign, hut it is not the work of Caesar. 
 
4 
 
 CjESA r. 
 
 was the first of those twelve Roman emperors with 
 whose names it was thought right to burden oul 
 young memories; and we were taught to understand 
 that when he began to reign there ceased to exist that 
 form of republican government in which two consuls 
 elected annually did in truth preside over the fortunes 
 of the empire. There had first been seven kings,— 
 whose names have also been made familiar to us,—then 
 the consuls, and after them the twelve Caesars, of 
 whom the great Julius was the first. So much we 
 all know of him ; and we know, too, that he was killed 
 in the Capitol by conspirators just as he was going to 
 become emperor, although this latter scrap of know¬ 
 ledge seems to be paradoxically at variance with the 
 former. In addition to this we know that he was a 
 great commander and conqueror and writer, who did 
 things and wrote of them in the “ veni, vidi, vici ” 
 style — saying of himself, “I came, I saw, I con¬ 
 quered.” We know that a great Roman army was 
 intrusted to him, and that he used this army for the 
 purpose of establishing his own power in Rome by 
 taking a portion of it over the Rubicon, which little 
 river separated the province which he had been ap¬ 
 pointed to govern from the actual Roman territory 
 within which, as a military servant of the magistrates 
 of the republic, he had no business to appear as a 
 genera] 1 the head of his army. So much we know; 
 and in the following very short memoir of the great 
 commander and historian, no effort shall be made,—as 
 has been so frequently and so painfully done for us in 
 late years,—to upset the teachings of our youth, and to 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 5 
 
 prove that the old lessons were wrong. They were 
 all fairly accurate, and shall now only be supplemented 
 by a few further circumstances which were doubtless 
 once learned by all school-boys and school-girls, but 
 which some may perhaps have forgotten since those 
 happy days. 
 
 Dean Merivale, in one of the early chapters of his 
 admirable history of the Ilomans under the Empire, 
 declares that Caius Julius Caesar is the greatest name 
 in history. He makes the claim without reserve, and 
 attaches to it no restriction, or suggestion that such is 
 simply his own opinion. Claims of this nature, made 
 by writers on behalf of their pet-heroes, we are, all of 
 us, generally inclined to dispute; but this claim, great 
 as it is, can hardly be disputed. Dr Merivale does not 
 say that Caesar was the greatest man that ever lived. 
 In measuring such supremacy, men take for themselves 
 various standards. To satisfy the judgment of one, it 
 is necessary that a poet should be selected; for another, 
 a teacher of religion; for a third, some intellectual hero 
 who has assisted in discovering the secrets of nature 
 by the operations of his own brain; for a fourth, a 
 ruler,—and so on. But the names of some of these 
 cannot be said to be great in history. Homer, Luther, 
 Galileo, and Charles V., are great names,—as are also 
 Shakespeare, Knox, Queen Elizabeth, and Newton. 
 Among these, the two rulers would probably be the 
 least in general admiration. But no one can assert that 
 the names of the poets, divines, and philosophers, are 
 greater than theirs in history. The Dean means that 
 of all men who have lived, and whose deeds are known 
 
6 
 
 CAESAR. 
 
 to us, Julius Caesar did most to move the world; and 
 we think that the Dean is right. Those whom we 
 might, perhaps, compare with Caesar, are Alexander, 
 Charlemagne, Cromwell, Napoleon, and Washington. 
 In regard to the first two, we feel, when claims are 
 made for them, that they are grounded on the perform* 
 ance of deeds only partially known to us. In the days 
 of Alexander, history was still dark,—and it had be¬ 
 come dark again in those of Charlemagne. What Crom¬ 
 well did was confined to our OAvn islands, and, though 
 he was great for us, he does not loom as large before 
 the eyes of mankind in general as does one who moved 
 all Europe, present and future. If there be any fair 
 antagonist to Caesar in this claim, it is Napoleon. As 
 a soldier he was equally great, and the area of his 
 operations was as extended. But there is an old say¬ 
 ing which tells us that no one can be sure of his 
 fortune till the end shall have come; and Caesar’s 
 death on the steps of the Capitol was more in accord¬ 
 ance with our ideas of greatness than that of Napo¬ 
 leon at St Helena. We cannot, moreover, but feel 
 that there were fewer drawbacks from greatness in the 
 personal demeanour of the Roman “ Imperator ” and 
 Dictator than in that of the French Emperor. For 
 Julius Caesar was never really emperor, in that sense in 
 which we use the word, and in accordance with which 
 his successor Augustus really became an emperor. As 
 to Washington, we may perhaps allow that in moral 
 attributes he was the greatest of all. To aid his 
 country he dared all,—even a rebel’s disgraceful death, 
 had he not succeeded where success was most improba 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 7 
 
 ble; and in all that he attempted he succeeded. His 
 is the name that culminates among those of the men 
 who made the United States a nation, and does so by 
 the eager consent of all its people. And his work 
 came altogether from patriotism,—with no alloy of 
 personal ambition. But it cannot be said that the 
 things he did were great as those which were done 
 by Caesar, or that he himself was as potent in the 
 doing of them. He ventured everything with as grand 
 a purpose as ever warmed the heart of man, and he 
 was successful; but the things which he did were in 
 themselves small in comparison 'with those effected by 
 his less noble rival for fame. Mommsen, the German 
 historian, describes Caesar as a man too great for the 
 scope of his intelligence and power of delineation. 
 “ The historian,” he says, speaking of Caesar, “ when 
 once in a thousand years he encounters the perfect, 
 can only be silent regarding it.” Napoleon also, in his 
 life of Caesar, paints his hero as perfect; but Napoleon 
 w T hen doing so is, in fact, claiming godlike perfection 
 for that second Caesar, his uncle. And the perfection 
 which he claims is not that of which Mommsen 
 speaks. The German intends to convey to us his 
 conviction that Caesar was perfect in human capacity 
 and intelligence. Napoleon claims for him moral per¬ 
 fection. “ We may be convinced,” says the Emperor, 
 “ by the above facts, that during his first consulate, 
 one only motive animated Caesar,—namely, the public 
 interest.” We cannot, however, quite take the facts 
 as the Emperor of the French gives them to us, nor 
 can we sha^e his conviction; but the common consent 
 
8 
 
 C2ESA R. 
 
 of reading men will probably acknowledge that there is 
 in history no name so great as that of Julius Caesar,— 
 of whose written works some account is intended to be 
 given in the following chapters. 
 
 He was born just one hundred years before Christ, 
 and came of an old noble Roman family, of which Ju¬ 
 lius and not Caesar was the distinctive name. Whence 
 came the name of Caesar has been a matter of doubt 
 and of legend. Some say that it arose from the thick 
 hair of one of the Julian tribe; others that a certain 
 scion of the family, like Macduff, “ was from his mo¬ 
 ther’s womb untimely ripped,” for which derivations 
 Latin words are found to be opportune. Again we are 
 told that one of the family once kept an elephant,—and 
 we are referred to some eastern language in which the 
 word for elephant has a sound like Caesar. Another 
 legend also rose from Caesar’s name, which, in the Gal¬ 
 lic language of those days,—very luckily for Caesar,— 
 sounded as though one should say, “ Send him back.” 
 Caesar’s horse once ran away with him, and carried him 
 over to the enemy. An insolent Gaul, who knew him, 
 called out, “ Caesar, Caesar! ” and so the other Gauls, 
 obeying the order supposed to be given, allowed the 
 illustrious one to escape. It must be acknowledged, 
 however, that the learned German who tells us this 
 storj 7 expresses a contemptuous conviction that it can¬ 
 not be true. Whatever may have produced the word, 
 its significance, derived from the doings and writings 
 of Caius Julius, has been very great. It has come to 
 mean in various languages the holder of despotic power; 
 and though it is said that, as a fact, the Russian title 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 9 
 
 Czar has no connection with the Roman word, so great 
 is the prestige of the name, that in the minds of men 
 the popular appellation of the Russian Emperor will 
 always he connected with that of the line of the Roman 
 Emperor. 
 
 Caesar was the nephew by marriage of that Marias 
 who, with alternations of bloody successes and seem¬ 
 ingly irreparable ruin, had carried on a contest with 
 Sulla for supreme power in the republic. Sulla in 
 these struggles had represented the aristocrats and pat¬ 
 ricians,—what we perhaps may call the Conservative 
 interest; while Marius, whose origin was low, who had 
 been a common soldier, and, rising from the ranks, had 
 become the darling of the army and of the people, may 
 perhaps be regarded as one who would have called him¬ 
 self a Liberal, had any such term been known in those 
 days. His liberality,—as has been the case with other 
 political leaders since his time,—led him to personal 
 power. He was seven times Consul, having secured his 
 seventh election by atrocious barbarities and butcher- 
 ings of his enemies in the city; and during this last con¬ 
 sulship he died. The young Caesar, though a patrician 
 by birth, succeeded his uncle in the popular party, and 
 seems from a very early age,—from his very boyhood,— 
 to have looked forward to the power which he might 
 win by playing his cards with discretion. 
 
 And very discreet he was,—self-confident to a won¬ 
 derful degree, and patient also. It is to be presumed 
 that most of our readers know how the Roman Repub¬ 
 lic fell, and the Roman Empire became established as 
 the result of the civil wars which began with Marius 
 
10 
 
 CAES A R. 
 
 and ended with that “ young Octavius” whom we better 
 recognise as Augustus Csesar. Julius Caesar was the 
 nephew by marriage of Marius, and Augustus was the 
 great-nephew and heir of Julius. By means of con- 
 sciiptions and murders, worse in their nature, though 
 less probably in number, than those which disgraced 
 the French Revolution, the power which Marius 
 achieved almost without foresight, for which the great 
 Caesar strove from his youth upwards with constant 
 foresight, was confirmed in.the hands of Augustus, and 
 bequeathed by him to the emperors. In looking back 
 at the annals of the world, we shall generally find that 
 despotic power has first grown out of popular move¬ 
 ment against authority. It was so with our own 
 Cromwell, has twice been so in the history of modern 
 France, and certainly was so in the formation of the 
 Roman Empire. In the great work of establishing 
 that empire, it was the mind and hand and courage of 
 Csesar that brought about the result, whether it was for 
 good or evil. And in looking at the lives of the three 
 men—Marius, Caesar, and Augustus, who followed each 
 other, and all worked to the same end, the destruction 
 of that oligarchy which was called a Republic in Rome— 
 we find that the one was a man, while the others were 
 beasts of prey. The cruelties of Marius as an old man, 
 and of Augustus as a young one, were so astounding as, 
 even at this distance, to horrify the reader, though he 
 remembers that Christianity had not yet softened men’s 
 hearts. Marius, the old man, almost swam in the 
 blood of his enemies, as also did his rival Sulla; but 
 the young Octavius, he whom the gods favoured so 
 
7iV TRO DUCT ION. 
 
 11 
 
 long as the almost divine* Augustus, cemented his 
 throne with the blood of his friends. To complete the 
 satisfaction of Lepidus and Antony, his comrades in 
 the second triumvirate, he did not scruple to add to 
 the list of those who were to die, the names of the 
 nearest and dearest to him. Between these monsters 
 of cruelty—between Marius and Sulla, who went before 
 him, and Octavius and Antony who followed him— 
 Caesar has become famous for clemency. And yet the 
 hair of the reader almost stands on end with horror as 
 Caesar recounts in page after page the stories of cities 
 burned to the ground, and whole communities slaugh¬ 
 tered in cold blood. Of the destruction of the women 
 and children of an entire tribe, Caesar w r ill leave the 
 unimpassioned record in one line. But this at least 
 may be said of Caesar, that he took no delight in 
 slaughter. When it became in his sight expedient'that 
 a people should suffer, so that others might learn to 
 yield and to obey, he could give the order apparently 
 without an effort. And w r e hear of no regrets, or of any 
 remorse which followed the execution of it. But blood¬ 
 shed in itself was not sweet to him. He was a discreet, 
 far-seeing man, and could do without a scruple what dis¬ 
 cretion and caution demanded of him. 
 
 And it may be said of Caesar that he was in some 
 sort guided in bis life by sense of duty and love ol 
 country; as it may also be said of his great contem¬ 
 poraries, Pompey and Cicero. With those who went 
 
 * Coelo tonantem credidimus Jovem 
 Regnare ; preesens Divus liabebitur 
 Augustus. 
 
12 
 
 CuESAR. 
 
 before him, Marius and Sulla, as also with those who 
 followed him, Antony and Augustus, it does not seem 
 that any such motives actuated them. Love of power 
 and greed, hatred of their enemies and personal ambi¬ 
 tion, a feeling that they were urged on by their fates 
 to seek for high place, and a resolve that it was better 
 to kill than be killed, impelled them to their courses. 
 These feelings were strong, too, with Caesar, as they are 
 strong to this day with statesmen and with generals; 
 but mingled with them in Caesar’s breast there was a 
 noble idea, that he would be true to the greatness of 
 Rome, and that he would grasp at power in order that 
 the Roman Empire might be well governed. Augustus, 
 doubtless, ruled well; and to Julius Caesar very little 
 scope for ruling was allowed after his battling was 
 done; but to Augustus no higher praise can be 
 assigned than that he had the intelligence to see that 
 the temporary wellbeing of the citizens of Rome was 
 the best guarantee for his own security. 
 
 Early in life Caesar lifted himself to high position, 
 though be did so in the midst of dangers. It was the 
 wonder of those around him that Sulla did not mur¬ 
 der him when he was young,—crush him while he 
 was yet, as it were, in his shell; but Sulla spared 
 him, and he rose apace. We are told that he became 
 priest of Jupiter at seventeen, and he was then already 
 a married man. He early trained himself as a public 
 orator, and amidst every danger espoused the popular 
 cause in Rome. Ho served his country in the East,—in 
 Bithynia, probably,—escaping, by doing so, the perils of 
 a residence in the city. He became Quaestor and then 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 13 
 
 /Edile, assisted by all the Marian party, as that party 
 would assist the rising man whom they regarded as 
 their future leader. He attacked and was attacked, 
 and was “ indefatigable in harassing the aristo¬ 
 cracy,” * who strove, but strove in vain, to crush 
 him. Though young, and addicted to all the 
 pleasures of youth,—a trifler, as Sulla once called 
 him,— he omitted to learn nothing that was neces¬ 
 sary for him to know as a chief of a great party 
 and a leader of great armies. When he was thirty- 
 seven he was made Pontifex Maximus, the official 
 chief of the priesthood of Pome, the office greatest 
 in honour of any in the city, although opposed by 
 the whole weight of the aristocracy, and although 
 Catulus was a candidate, who, of all that party, was 
 the highest not only in renown but in virtue. He 
 became Praetor the next year, though again he was 
 opposed by all the influence of those who feared him. 
 And, after his twelve months of office, he assumed 
 the government of Spain,—the province allotted to 
 him as Propraetor, in accordance with the usage of the 
 Pepublic,—in the teeth of a decree of the Senate order¬ 
 ing him to remain in Pome. Here he gained his first 
 great military success, first made himself known to 
 his soldiery, and came back to Pome entitled to the 
 honour of a triumph. 
 
 But there was still another step on the ladder of the 
 State before he could assume the position which no 
 doubt he already saw before him. He must be Consul 
 before he could be the master of many legions, and in 
 * The words are taken from Dean Merivale’s history. 
 
u 
 
 CAESAR. 
 
 order that he might sue in proper form for the consul* 
 ship, it was necessary that he should abandon his 
 Triumph. He could only triumph as holding the office 
 of General of the Republic’s forces, and as General or 
 Imperator he could not enter the city. He abandoned 
 the Triumph, sued for his office in the common fashion, 
 and enabled the citizens to say that he preferred their 
 service to his personal honours. At the age of forty-one 
 he became Consul. It was during the struggle for the 
 consulship that the triumvirate was formed, of which 
 subsequent ages have heard so much, and of which 
 Romans at the time heard probably so little. Pompey, 
 who had been the political child of Sulla, and had 
 been the hope of the patricians to whom he belonged, 
 had returned to Rome after various victories which he 
 had achieved as Proconsul in the East, had triumphed, 
 —and had ventured to recline on his honours, dis¬ 
 banding his army and taking to himself the credit of 
 subsiding into privacy. The times were too rough for 
 such honest duty, and Pompey found himself for a 
 while slighted by his party. Though he had thought 
 himself able to abandon power, he could not bear the 
 loss of it. It may be that he had conceived himself 
 able to rule the city by his influence without the aid 
 of his legions. Caesar tempted him, and they two with 
 Crassus, who was wanted for his wealth, formed the 
 first triumvirate. By such pact among themselves 
 they were to rule all Rome and all Rome’s provinces; 
 but doubtless, by resolves within himself of which no 
 one knew, Caesar intended even then to grasp the do¬ 
 minion of the whole in his own hands. During the 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 15 
 
 years that followed,—the years in which Caesar was em 
 • gaged in his Gallic wars,—Pompey remained at Pome, 
 not indeed as Caesar’s friend—for that hollow friend¬ 
 ship was brought to an end by the death of Julia, 
 Caesar’s daughter, whom Pompey, though five years 
 Caesar’s elder, had married—but in undecided rivalship 
 to the active man who in foreign wars was preparing 
 legions by which to win the Empire. Afterwards, 
 when Caesar, as we shall hear, had crossed the Pubicon, 
 their enmity was declared. It was natural that they 
 should be enemies. In middle life, Pompey, as we 
 have seen, had married Caesar’s daughter, and Caesar’s 
 second wife had been a Pompeia.* But Avlien they 
 were young, and each was anxious to attach himself to 
 the politics of his own party, Pompey had married the 
 daughter-in-law of Sulla, and Caesar had married the 
 daughter of Cinna, who had almost been joined with 
 
 * She was that wife who was false with Clodius, and whom 
 Caesar divorced, declaring that Caesar’s wife must not even he 
 suspected. He would not keep the false wife; neither would 
 he at that moment take part in the accusation against Clodius, 
 who was of his party, and against whom such accusation hacked 
 by Caesar would have been fatal. The intrusion of the dema¬ 
 gogue into Caesar’s house in the pursuit of Caesar’s wife dur¬ 
 ing the mysteries of the Bona Dea became the subject of a trial 
 in Home. The offence was terrible and was notorious. Clodius, 
 who was hated and feared by the patricians, was a favourite 
 with the popular party. The offender was at last brought to 
 trial, and was acquitted by venal judges. A word spoken by 
 the injured husband would have insured his condemnation, 
 but that word Caesar would not speak. His wife he could 
 divorce, but he would not jeopardise his power with his own 
 party by demanding the punishment of him who had debauched 
 her. 
 
16 
 
 C jESA R. 
 
 Marius in leading the popular party. Such having 
 been the connection they had made in their early lives, it 
 was natural that Pompey and Csesar should be enemies, 
 and that the union of those two with any other third 
 in a triumvirate should be but a hollow compromise, 
 planned and carried out only that time might be gained. 
 
 Caesar was now Consul, and from his consular chair 
 laughed to scorn the Senate and the aristocratic col¬ 
 league with whom he was joined,—Bibulus, of whom 
 Ave shall again hear in the Commentary on the civil 
 war. During his year of office lie seems to have 
 ruled almost supreme and almost alone. The Senate 
 was forced to do his bidding, and Pompey, at any rate 
 for this year, was his ally. We already know that to 
 praetors and to consuls, after their year of office in the 
 city, were confided the government of the great pro¬ 
 vinces of the Republic, and that these officers while so 
 governing were called propraetors and proconsuls. 
 After his praetorship Caesar had gone for a year to 
 southern Spain, the province which had been assigned 
 to him, whence he came back triumphant,—but not to 
 enjoy his Triumph. At the expiration of his consul¬ 
 ship the joint provinces of Cisalpine Gaul and Illy- 
 ricum were assigned to him, not for one year, but for 
 five years; and to these Avas added Transalpine Gaul, 
 by which grant dominion Avas given to him over all 
 that country which Ave now know as Northern Italy, 
 OA^er Illyria to the east, and to the west across the 
 Alps, over the Roman province already established in 
 the south of France. This province, bounded on the 
 north by Lake Leman and the SAviss mountains, ran 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 17 
 
 couth to the Mediterranean, and to the west half 
 across the great neck of land which joins Spain to 
 the continent of Europe. This province of Trans¬ 
 alpine Gaul was already Roman, and to Caesar was 
 intrusted the task of defending this, and of defending 
 Rome itself, from the terrible valour of the Gauls. 
 That he might do this it was necessary that he should 
 collect his legions in that other Gaul which we now 
 know as the north of Italy. 
 
 It does not seem that there was any preconceived 
 idea that Caesar should reduce all Gallia beneath the 
 Roman yoke. Hitherto Rome had feared the Gauls, 
 and had been subject to their inroads. The Gauls in 
 former years had even made their way as invaders into 
 the very city, and had been bought out with a ransom. 
 They had spread themselves over Northern Italy, and 
 hence, when Northern Italy was conquered by Roman 
 arms, it became a province under the name of Cisalpine 
 Gaul. Then, during the hundred years which preceded 
 Caesar’s wars, a province was gradually founded and 
 extended in the south of France, of which Marseilles 
 was the kernel. Massilia had been a colony of Greek 
 merchants, and was supported by the alliance of Rome. 
 Whither such alliance leads is known to all readers 
 of history. The Greek colony became a Roman town, 
 and the Roman province stretched itself around the 
 town. It was Caesar’s duty, as governor of Transalpine 
 Gaul, to see that the poor province was not hurt by 
 those ravaging Gauls. How he performed that duty 
 he tells us in his first Commentary. 
 
 During the fourth year of his office, while Pompoy 
 a. c. vol. iv. B 
 
18 
 
 CAESAR. 
 
 and Crassus, liis colleagues in tlie then existing trium¬ 
 virate, were consuls, his term of dominion over the 
 three provinces was prolonged by the addition of five 
 other years. But he did not see the end of the ten 
 years in that scene of action. Julia, his daughter, 
 had died, and his great rival was estranged from him. 
 The Senate had clamoured for his recall, and Pompey, 
 with doubtful words, had assented. A portion of his 
 army was demanded from him, was sent by him into Italy 
 in obedience to the Senate, and shortly afterwards was 
 placed under the command of Pompey. Then Caesar 
 found that the Italian side of the Alps was the more 
 convenient for his purposes, that the Hither or Cis¬ 
 alpine Gaul demanded his services, and that it would 
 he well for him to he near the Bubicon. The second 
 Commentary, in three hooks, ‘ De Bello Civili,’ giving 
 us his record of the civil war, tells us of his deeds and 
 fortunes for the next two years,—the years b.c. 49 and 
 48. The continuation of his career as a general is 
 related in three other Commentaries, not hy his own 
 hand, to which, as being beyond the scope of this 
 volume, only short allusion will be made. Then camo 
 one year of power, full of glory, and, upon the whole, 
 well used; and after that there came the end, of which 
 the tale has been so often told, when he fell, stabbed 
 by friend and foe, at the foot of Pompey’s pillar in 
 the Capitol, 
 
 It is only further necessary that a few words should 
 be added as to the character of Caesar’s "writings,—for 
 it is of his writings rather than of his career that it is 
 intended here to give some idea to those who have not 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 19 
 
 an opportunity of reading them. Caesar’s story can 
 hardly be told in this little volume, for it is the his¬ 
 tory of the world as the world then was. The word 
 which our author has chosen as a name for his work,— 
 and which now has become so well known as connected 
 with Caesar, that he who uses it seems to speak of Caesar, 
 —means, in Caesar’s sense, a Memoir. Were it not for 
 Caesar, a “ Commentary ” would be taken to signify that 
 which the critic had added, rather than the work which 
 the author had first produced. Caesar’s ‘‘ Commentaries ” 
 are memoirs written by himself, descriptive of his differ¬ 
 ent campaigns, in which he treats of himself in the third 
 person, and tells his story as it might have been told 
 by some accompanying scribe or secretary. This being 
 so, we are of course driven to inquire whether some 
 accompanying scribe or secretary may not in truth have 
 done the work. And there is doubtless one great argu¬ 
 ment which must be powerful with us all towards the 
 adoption of such a surmise. The amount of work which 
 Cassar had on hand, not only in regard to his campaigns, 
 but in the conduct of his political career, was so great 
 as to have overtasked any brain without the addition of 
 literary labour. Surely no man was ever so worked; 
 for the doctrine of the division of labour did not pre¬ 
 vail then in great affairs as it does now. Ccesar was not 
 only a general; he was also an engineer, an astrono¬ 
 mer, an orator,, a poet, a high priest—to whom, as such, 
 though himself, as we are told, a disbeliever in the gods 
 of Olympus, the intricate and complicated system of 
 JEioman worship was a necessary knowledge. And he 
 was a politician, of whom it may be said that, though 
 
20 
 
 CuESA R. 
 
 he was intimately acquainted with the ferocity of op* 
 position, he knew nothing of its comparative leisure. 
 We have had busy statesmen writing books, two prime 
 ministers translating Homer, another writing novels, a 
 fourth known as a historian, a dramatist, and a bio¬ 
 grapher. But they did not lead armies as well as the 
 Houses of Parliament, and they were occasionally blessed 
 by the opportunities of comparative political retirement 
 which opposition affords. Prom the beginning of the 
 Gallic war, Caesar was fighting in person every year but 
 one till he died. It was only by personal fighting that 
 he could obtain success. The reader of the following 
 pages will find that, with the solitary exception of the 
 siege of Marseilles, nothing great was done for him in 
 his absence. And he had to make his army as well as 
 to lead it. Legion by legion, he had to collect it as he 
 needed it, and to collect it by the force of his own char¬ 
 acter and of his own name. The abnormal plunder 
 with which it was necessary that his soldiers should be 
 allured to abnormal valour and toil had to be given as 
 though from his own hand. For every detail of the sol¬ 
 diers’ work he was responsible ; and at the same time 
 it was incumbent on him so to manipulate his Tioman 
 enemies at Pome,—and, harder still than that, his Bo- 
 man friends,—that confusion and destruction should not 
 fall upon him as a politician. Thus weighted, could 
 he write his own Commentaries ? There is reason to 
 believe that there was collected by him, no doubt with 
 the aid of his secretaries, a large body of notes which 
 were known as the Ephemerides of Caesar,—jottings 
 down, as we may say, taken from day to day. Were 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 21 
 
 not the Commentaries which hear Caesar’s name com¬ 
 posed from these notes by some learned and cunning 
 secretary ? 
 
 These notes have been the cause of much scholastic 
 wrath to some of the editors and critics. One learned 
 German, hotly arguing that Caesar wrote no Ephem- 
 erides, does allow that somebody must have written 
 down the measurements of the journeys, of the moun¬ 
 tains, and of the rivers, the numbers also of the cap¬ 
 tives and of the slaves.* “ Not even I,” says he,— 
 “ not even do I believe that Caesar was able to keep 
 all these things simply in his memory.” Then he goes 
 on to assert that to the keeping of such notes any 
 scribe was equal; and that it was improbable that 
 Caesar could have found time for the keeping of notes 
 when absolutely in his tent. The indignation and 
 enthusiasm are comic, but the reasoning seems to 
 be good. The notes were probably collected under 
 Caesar’s immediate eyes by his secretaries; but there 
 is ample evidence that the Commentaries themselves 
 are Caesar’s own work. They seem to have become 
 known at once to the learned Romans of the day; and 
 Cicero, who was probably the most learned, and cer¬ 
 tainly the best critic of the time, speaks of them with¬ 
 out any doubt as to their authorship. It was at once 
 known that the first seven hooks of the Gallic War 
 were written by Caesar, and that the eighth was not. 
 This seems to be conclusive. But in addition to this, 
 there is internal evidence. Caesar writes in the third 
 person, and is very careful to maintain that mode of 
 
 * Nipperdeius. 
 
22 
 
 CJES A R. 
 
 expression. But he is not so careful but that on three 
 or four occasions lie forgets himself, and speaks in the 
 first person, Ho other writer, writing for Caesar, would 
 have done so. And there are certain trifles in the 
 mode of telling the story, which must have been per¬ 
 sonal to the man. He writes of “ young” Crassus, and 
 young” Brutus, as no scribe would have written; 
 and he shows, first his own pride in obtaining a legion 
 from Pompey’s friendship, and then his unmeasured 
 disgust when the Senate demand and obtain from him 
 that legion and another one, and when Pompey uses 
 them against himself, in a fashion which would go far 
 to prove the authenticity of each Commentary, were 
 any proof needed. But the assent of Caesar’s contem¬ 
 poraries suffices for this without other evidence. 
 
 And it seems that they were written as the Avars 
 were carried on, and that each was published at once. 
 Had it not been so, we could not understand that 
 Caesar should have begun the second Commentary 
 before he had finished the first. Tt seems that he 
 was hindered by the urgency of the Civil War from 
 writing what with him would have been the two 
 last books of the Gallic War, and therefore put the 
 completion of that work into the hands of his friend 
 Hirtius, who wrote the memoir of the two years in 
 one book. And Caesar’s mode of speaking of men who 
 were at one time his friends and then his enemies, 
 shows that his first Commentary was completed and 
 out of hand before the other was written. Labienus, 
 who in the Gallic War was Caesar’s most trusted lieu¬ 
 tenant, went over to the other side and served under 
 Pompey in the Civil War. He could not have failed 
 
INTRODUCTION . 
 
 23 
 
 to allude in some way to tlie desertion of Labienus, 
 in the first Commentary, had Labienus left him and 
 joined Pompey while the first Commentary was still 
 in his hands. 
 
 His style was at once recognised by the great literary 
 critic of the day as being excellent for its intended 
 purpose. Caesar is manifestly not ambitious of liter¬ 
 ary distinction, but is very anxious to convey to his 
 readers a narrative of his own doings, which shall be 
 graphic, succinct, intelligible, and sufficiently well ex¬ 
 pressed to insure the attention of readers. Cicero, the 
 great critic, thus speaks of the Commentaries ; “ Yalde 
 quidam, inquam, probandos; nudi enim sunt, recti, et 
 venusti, omni ornatu orationis, tanquam veste, de- 
 tracto.” The passage is easily understood, but not 
 perhaps very easily translated into English. “ I pro¬ 
 nounce them, indeed, to be very commendable, for 
 they are simple, straightforward, agreeable, with all 
 rhetorical ornament stripped from them, as a garment 
 is stripped.” This was written by Cicero while Caesar 
 was yet living, as the context shows. And Cicero 
 does not mean to imply that Caesar’s writings are bald 
 or uncouth: the word “venusti” is evidence of 
 this. And again, speaking of Caesar’s language, 
 Cicero says that Caesar spoke with more finished 
 choice of words than almost any other orator of the 
 day. And if he so spoke, he certainly so wrote, for 
 the great speeches of the Homans were all written 
 compositions. Montaigne says of Caesar : “ I read this 
 author with somewhat more reverence and respect than 
 is usually allowed to human writings, one while con* 
 sidering him in his person, by his actions and miracu* 
 
24 
 
 CJZSAlt. 
 
 lous greatness, and another in the purity and inimitable 
 polish of his language and style, wherein he not only 
 excels all other historians, as Cicero confesses, but per- 
 
 adventure even Cicero himself.” Cicero, however, 
 
 • 
 
 confesses nothing of the kind, and Montaigne is so far 
 wrong. Caesar was a great favourite with Montaigne, 
 who always speaks of his hero with glowing enthu¬ 
 siasm. 
 
 To us who love to make our language clear by the 
 number of words used, and who in writing rarely give 
 ourselves time for condensation, the closely-packed 
 style of Caesar is at first somewhat difficult of compre¬ 
 hension. It cannot be read otherwise than slowly 
 till the reader’s mind is trained by practice to Caesarean 
 expressions, and then not with rapidity. Three or 
 four adjectives, or more probably participles, joined to 
 substantives in a sentence, are continually intended 
 to convey an amount of information for which, with 
 us, three or four other distinct sentences would be 
 used. It is almost impossible to give the meaning of 
 Caesar in English without using thrice as many words 
 as he uses. The same may be said of many Latin 
 writers,—perhaps of all; so great was the Roman 
 tendency to condensation, and so great is ours to 
 dilution. But with Caesar, though every word means 
 much, there are often many words in the same sen¬ 
 tence, and the reader is soon compelled to acknowledge 
 that skipping is out of the question, and that quick 
 reading is undesirable. 
 
 That which will most strike the ordinary English . 
 reader in the narrative of Caesar is the cruelty of the 
 Homans,—cruelty of which Caesar himself is guilty to 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 25 
 
 a frightful extent, and of which he never expresses 
 horror. And yet among his contemporaries lie achieved 
 a character for clemency which he has retained to the 
 present day. In describing the character of Caesar, 
 without reference to that of his contemporaries, it is 
 impossible not to declare him to have been terribly 
 cruel. From bloodthirstiness he slaughtered none; 
 but neither from tenderness did he spare any. All 
 was done from policy; and when policy seemed to him 
 to demand blood, he could, without a scruple,—as far 
 as we can judge, without a pang,—order the destruction 
 of human beings, having no regard to number, sex, age, 
 innocence, or helplessness. Our only excuse for him 
 is that he was a Roman, and that Romans were indif¬ 
 ferent to blood. Suicide was with them the common 
 mode of avoiding otherwise inevitable misfortune, and 
 it was natural that men who made light of their own 
 lives should also make light of the lives of others. 
 Of all those with whose names the reader will become 
 acquainted in the folloAving pages, hardly one or two 
 died in their beds. Caesar and Pompey, the two 
 great ones, were murdered. Dumnorix, the iEduan, 
 was killed by Caesar’s orders. Yercingetorix, the gal- 
 lantest of the Gauls, was kept alive for years that his 
 death might grace Caesar’s Triumph. Ariovistus, the 
 German, escaped from Caesar, but we hear soon after 
 of his death, and that the Germans resented it. He 
 doubtless was killed by a Roman weapon. What 
 became of the hunted Ambiorix we do not know, 
 but his brother king Cativolcus poisoned himself with 
 the juice of yew-tree. Crassus, the partner of Caesar 
 and Pompey in the first triumvirate, was killed by 
 
26 
 
 CMS A R. 
 
 the Parthians. Young Crassus, the son, Caesar’s 
 officer in Gaul, had himself killed by his own men 
 that he mi "lit not fall into the hands of the Par- 
 
 O 
 
 tliians, and his head was cut off and sent to his 
 father. Labienus fell at Munda, in the last civil 
 war in Spain. Quintus Cicero, Caesar’s lieuten¬ 
 ant, and his greater brother, the orator, and his son, 
 perished in the proscriptions of the second trium¬ 
 virate. Titurius and Cotta were slaughtered with all 
 their army by Ambiorix. Afranius was killed by 
 Caesar’s soldiers after the last battle in Africa. Petreiua 
 was hacked to pieces in amicable contest by King 
 Juba. Varro indeed lived to be an old man, and to 
 write many books. Domitius, who defended Mar¬ 
 seilles for Pompey, was killed in the flight after Pliar- 
 salia. Trebonius, who attacked Marseilles by land, 
 was killed by a son-in-law of Cicero at Smyrna. Of 
 Decimus Brutus, who attacked Marseilles by sea, one 
 Camillus cut off the head and sent it as a present to 
 Antony. Curio, who attempted to master the pro¬ 
 vince of Africa on behalf of Caesar, rushed amidst his 
 enemy’s swords and was slaughtered. King Juba, 
 who conquered him, failing to kill himself, had him¬ 
 self killed by a slave. Attius Yarns, who had held 
 the province for Pompey, fell afterwards at Munda. 
 Marc Antony, Caesar’s great lieutenant in the Pharsa- 
 lian wars, stabbed himself. Cassius Longinus, another 
 lieutenant under Caesar, was drowned. Scipio, Pom- 
 pey’s partner in greatness at Pharsalia, destroyed him¬ 
 self in Africa. Bibulus, his chief admiral, pined to 
 death. Young Ptolemy, to whom Pompey fled, was 
 drowned in the Nile. The fate of his sister Cleopatra 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 27 
 
 is known to all the world. Pharnaces, Caesar’s enemy 
 
 in Asia, fell in battle. Cato destroyed himself at Utica. 
 
 «/ 
 
 Pompey’s eldest son, Cnseus, was caught wounded in 
 Spain and slaughtered. Sextus the younger was 
 killed some years afterwards by one of Antony’s sol¬ 
 diers. Brutus and Cassius, the two great conspirators, 
 both committed suicide. But of these two we hear 
 little or nothing in the Commentaries; nor of Augustus 
 Caesar, who did contrive to live in spite of all the 
 bloodshed through which he had waded to the throne. 
 Among the whole number there are not above three, if 
 so many, who died fairly fighting in battle. 
 
 The above is a list of the names of men of mark,— 
 of warriors chiefly, of men who, with their eyes open, 
 knowing what was before them, went out to encounter 
 danger for certain purposes. The bloody catalogue is 
 so complete, so nearly comprises all whose names are 
 mentioned, that it strikes the reader with almost a 
 comic horror. But when we come to the slaughter of 
 whole towns, the devastation of country effected pur¬ 
 posely that men and women might starve, to the 
 abandonment of the old, the young, and the tender, 
 that they might perish on the hillsides, to the mutila¬ 
 tion of crowds of men, to the burning of cities told us 
 in a passing word, to the drowning of many thousands, 
 -—mentioned as we should mention the destruction of 
 a brood of rats,—the comedy is all over, and the heart 
 becomes sick. Then it is that we remember that the 
 coming of Christ has changed all things, and that men 
 now,—though terrible things have been done sinco 
 Christ came to us,—are not as men were in the days 
 of Caesar. 
 
I 
 
 CHAPTER H. 
 
 FIRST BOOK OF THE WAR IN GAUL.—CLESAR DRIVES FIRST THIS 
 SWISS AND THEN THE GERMANS OUT OF GAUL.—B.O. 58 . 
 
 It has been remarked in the preceding chapter 
 that Ccesar does not appear to have received any 
 commission for the subjugation of Gaul when he took 
 military charge of his three provinces. The Gauls 
 were still feared in Rome, and it was his duty to see 
 that they did not make their way over the Alps into 
 the Roman territory. It was also his duty to protect 
 from invasion, and also from rebellion, that portion of 
 Gaul which had already been constituted a Roman 
 province, but in which the sympathies of the people 
 were still rather with their old brethren than with 
 their new masters. The experience, however, which 
 we have of great and encroaching empires tells us how 
 probable it is that the protection of that which the 
 strong already holds should lead to the grasping of 
 more, till at last all has been grasped. It is thus that 
 our own empire in India has grown. It was thus that, 
 the Spanish empire grew in America. It is thus that 
 the empire of the United States is now growing. It 
 was thus that Prussia, driven, as we all remember, by 
 
CAESARS PROBABLE INTENTIONS. 
 
 29 
 
 the necessity of self-preservation, took Nassau the other 
 dav, and Hanover and Holstein and Hesse. It was 
 thus that the wolf claimed all the river, not being able 
 to endure the encroaching lamb. The humane reader 
 of history execrates, as he reads, the cruel, all-absorb¬ 
 ing, ravenous wolf. But the philosophical reader per¬ 
 ceives that in this way, and in no other, is civilisation 
 carried into distant lands. The wolf, though he be 
 a ravenous wolf, brings with him energy and know¬ 
 ledge. 
 
 What may have been Caesar’s own aspirations in 
 regard to Gaul, when the government of the provinces 
 was confided to him, we have no means of knowing. 
 We may surmise,—indeed we feel that we know,—that 
 he had a project in hand much greater to him, in his 
 view of its result, than could be the adding of any 
 new province to the Republic, let the territory added 
 be as wide as all Gaul. He had seen enough ol 
 Roman politics to know that real power in Rome coulc 
 only belong to a master of legions. Both Marius anc 1 
 Sulla had prevailed in the city by means of the armies 
 which they had levied as the trusted generals of the 
 Republic. Pompey had had his army trained to 
 conquest in the East, and it had been expected that 
 he also would use it to the same end. He had been 
 magnanimous, or half-hearted, or imprudent, as critics 
 of liis conduct might choose to judge him then and 
 may choose to judge him now, and on reaching Italy 
 from the East had disbanded his legions. As a con¬ 
 sequence, he was at that moment, when Caesar was 
 looking out into the future and preparing his own 
 
30 
 
 TI1E WAR IN OAUL.—FIRST BOOK. 
 
 career, fain to seek some influence in the city by join¬ 
 ing himself in a secret compact with Caesar, his natural 
 enemy, and with Crassus. Caesar, seeing all this, 
 knowing how Marius and Sulla had succeeded and had 
 failed, seeing what had come of the magnanimity of 
 Pompey—resolved no doubt that, whatever might he 
 the wars in which they should he trained, he would 
 have trained legions at his command. When, there¬ 
 fore, he first found a cause for war, he was ready for 
 war. He had not been long proconsul before there 
 came a wicked lamb and drank at his stream. 
 
 In describing to us the way in which he conquered 
 lamb after lamb throughout the whole country which 
 he calls Gallia, he tells us almost nothing of himself. 
 Of his own political ideas, of his own ambition, even 
 of his doings in Italy through those winter months 
 which he generally passed on the Roman side of the 
 Alps, having left his army in winter quarters under 
 his lieutenants, he says but a very few words. His 
 record is simply the record of the campaigns; and 
 although he now and then speaks of the dignity of 
 the Republic, he hardly ever so far digresses from the 
 narrative as to give to the reader any idea of the 
 motives by which he is actuated. Once in these seven 
 memoirs of seven years’ battling in Gaul, and once 
 only, does he refer to a motive absolutely personal to 
 himself. When he succeeded in slaughtering a fourth 
 of the emigrating Swiss, which was his first military 
 success in Gaul, he tells us that he had then revenged 
 an injury to himself as well as an injury to the Re¬ 
 public, because the grandfather of his father-in-law 
 
THE MANNER OF CAESAR’S NARRATIVE. 31 
 
 had in former wars been killed by the very tribe which 
 he had just destroyed ! 
 
 It is to be observed, also, that he does not intention¬ 
 ally speak in the first person, and that when he does so 
 it is in some passage of no moment, in which the person¬ 
 ality is accidental and altogether trivial. He does not 
 speak of “ I ” and “ me,” but of Caesar, at though he, 
 Caesar, who wrote the Commentary, Avert, not the 
 Caesar of whom he is writing. Hot unfrequently ho 
 speaks strongly in praise of himself; but as there is 
 no humility in his tone, so also is there no pride, even 
 when he praises himself. He never seems to boast, 
 though he tells us of his own exploits as he does of those 
 of his generals and centurions. Without any diffi¬ 
 dence he informs us now and again how, at the end 
 of this or that campaign, a “ supplication,” or public 
 festival and thanksgiving for his victories, was decreed 
 in Home, on the hearing of the news,—to last for fifteen 
 or twenty days, as the case might be. 
 
 Of his difficulties at home,—the political difficulties 
 with which he had to contend,—he says never a Avord. 
 And yet at times they must have been A r ery harassing. 
 We hear from other sources that during these Avars in 
 Gaul his conduct Avas Auolently reprobated in Home, 
 in that he had, with the utmost cruelty, attacked and 
 crushed states supposed to be in amity with Rome, and 
 that it Avas once even proposed to give him up to the 
 enemy as a punishment for grievous treachery to the 
 enemy. Had it been so resolved by the Roman Senate, 
 —had such a laAV been enacted,—the poAver to carry 
 out the laAV would have been wanted. It Avas easier 
 
32 
 
 THE WAR IN GAUL.—xTlRST BOOa. 
 
 to grant a “ supplication” for twenty days than to stop 
 his career after his legions had come to know him. 
 
 Nor is there very much said by Caesar of his strategic 
 difficulties; though now and then, especially when 
 his ships are being knocked about on the British 
 coast, and again when the iron of his heel has so 
 bruised the Gauls that they all turn against him in 
 one body under Vereingetorix, the reader is allowed to 
 see that he is pressed hard enough. But it is his rule 
 to tell the thing he means to do, the way he does it, 
 and the completeness of the result, in the fewest pos¬ 
 sible words. If any student of the literature of battles 
 would read first Caesar’s seven books of the Gallic War, 
 and then Mr ICinglake’s first four volumes of the 
 ‘ Invasion of the Crimea,’ he would be able to com¬ 
 pare two most wonderful examples of the dexterous 
 use of words, in the former of which the narrative is 
 told with the utmost possible brevity, and in the latter 
 with almost the utmost possible prolixity. And yet 
 each narrative is equally clear, and each equally dis¬ 
 tinguished by so excellent &n arrangement of words, 
 that the reader is forced to acknowledge that the story 
 is told to him by a great master. 
 
 In praising others,—his lieutenants, his soldiers, and 
 occasionally his enemies,—Caesar is often enthusiastic, 
 though the praise is conferred by a word or two,—is 
 given, perhaps, simply in an epithet added on for that 
 purpose to a sentence planned with a wholly different 
 purpose. Of blame he is very sparing; so much so, 
 that it almost seems that he looked upon certain 
 imperfections, in regard even to faith as well as valour 
 
THE MANNER OF CjESAR'S NARRATIVE. 33 
 
 or prudence, as necessary to humanity, and pardonable 
 because of their necessity. He can tell of the absolute 
 destruction of a legion through the folly and perhaps 
 cowardice of one of his lieutenants, without heaping a 
 word of reproach on the name of the unfortunate. He 
 can relate how a much-favoured tribe fell off from their 
 faith again and again without expressing anger at their 
 faithlessness, and can explain how they were,—hardly 
 forgiven, but received again as friends,—because it 
 suited him so to treat them. But again he can tell us, 
 without apparently a quiver of the pen, how he could 
 devote to destruction a city with all its women and all 
 its children, so that other cities might know what 
 would come to them if they did not yield and obey, 
 and become vassals to the godlike hero in whose 
 hands Providence had placed their lives and their 
 possessions. 
 
 It appears that Caesar never failed to believe in 
 himself. He is far too simple in his language, and too 
 conscious of his own personal dignity, to assert that 
 he has never been worsted. But his very simplicity 
 seems to convey the assurance that such cannot ulti¬ 
 mately be the result of any campaign in which he is 
 engaged. He seems to imply that victory attends him 
 so certainly that it would be futile in any case to dis¬ 
 cuss its probability. He feared no one, and was there¬ 
 fore the cause of awe to others. He could face his 
 own legions when they would not obey his call to 
 arms, and reduce them to obedience by a word. 
 Lucan, understanding his character well, says of him 
 that “ he deserved to be feared, for he feared nothing 
 
 a. o. vol. iv ° 
 
34 
 
 THE WAR IN GA UL.—FIRST BOOK. 
 
 “ meruitque timeri Nil metuens.” He writes of liimself 
 as we might imagine some god would write who knew 
 that his divine purpose must of course prevail, and 
 who would therefore never he in the way of entertain¬ 
 ing a doubt. With Caesar there is always this godlike 
 simplicity, which makes his “Veni, vidi, vici,” the 
 natural expression of his mind as to his own mode of 
 action. The same thing is felt in the very numerous 
 but very brief records of the punishments which he in¬ 
 flicted. Cities are left desolate, as it were with a wave 
 of his hand, but he hardly deigns to say that his own 
 hand has even been waved. He tells us of one Acco 
 who had opposed him, that, “Graviore sententia pro- 
 nunciata,”—as though there had been some jury to 
 pronounce this severe sentence, which was in fact pro¬ 
 nounced only by himself, Caesar,—he inflicted punish¬ 
 ment on him “more majorum.” We learn from other 
 sources that this punishment consisted in being strip¬ 
 ped naked, confined by the neck in a cleft stick, and 
 then being flogged to death. In the next words, hav¬ 
 ing told us in half a sentence that he had made the 
 country too hot to hold the fugitive accomplices of the 
 tortured chief, he passes on into Italy with the majes¬ 
 tic step of one much too great to dwell long on these 
 small but disagreeable details. And we feel that he is 
 too great. 
 
 It has been already said that the great proconsular 
 wolf was not long in hearing that a lamb had come 
 down to drink of his stream. The Helvetii, or Swiss, 
 as we call them,—those tribes which lived on the Lake 
 Leman, and among the hills and valleys to the north 
 
THE EMIGRATION OF THE HELVE TIL 35 
 
 of the lake,—had made up their minds that they were 
 inhabiting hut a poor sort of country, and that they 
 might considerably better themselves by leaving their 
 mountains and going out into some part of Gaul, in 
 which they might find themselves stronger than the 
 existing tribes, and might take possession of the fat of 
 the land. In doing so, their easiest way out of their 
 own country would lie by the Rhone, where it now 
 runs through Geneva into France. But in taking this 
 route the Swiss would be obliged to pass over a corner 
 of the Roman province. Here was a case of the lamb 
 troubling the waters with a vengeance. When this 
 was told to Caesar,—that these Swiss intended, “ facere 
 iter per Provinciam nostram ”—“ to do their travelling 
 through our Province,”—he hurried over the Alps into 
 Gaul, and came to Geneva as fast as he could travel. 
 
 He begins his first book by a geographical definition 
 of Gaul, which no doubt was hardly accurate, but 
 which gives us a singularly clear idea of that which 
 Caesar desired to convey. In speaking of Gallia he 
 intends to signify the whole country from the outflow 
 of the Rhine into the ocean down to the Pyrenees, 
 and then eastward to the Rhone, to the Swiss moun¬ 
 tains, and the borders of the Roman Province. This 
 fie divides into three parts, telling us that the Belgians 
 inhabited the part north of the Seine and Marne, the 
 people of Aquitania the part south of the Garonne, and 
 the Gauls or Celts, the intermediate territory. Having 
 so far described the scene of his action, he rushes off 
 at once to the dreadful sin of the Swiss emigrants in 
 desiring to pass through “ our Province.” 
 
36 
 
 THE WAR IN GAUL.—FIRST BOOR. 
 
 He has but one legion in Further Gaul,—that is, 
 in the Roman province on the further side of tho 
 Alps from Rome ; and therefore, when ambassadors 
 come to him from the Swiss, asking permission to 
 go through the corner of land, and promising that 
 they will do no harm in their passage, he tem¬ 
 porises with them. He can’t give them an answer 
 just then, but must think of it. They must come 
 back to him by a certain day,—when he will have 
 more soldiers ready. Of course he refuses. The 
 Swiss make some slight attempt, but soon give that 
 matter up in despair. There is another way by which 
 they can get out of their mountains,—through the 
 territory of a people called Sequani; and for doing this 
 they obtain leave. But Caesar knows how injurious 
 the Swiss lambs will be to him and his wolves, should 
 they succeed in getting round to the back of his Pro¬ 
 vince,—that Roman Province which left the name of 
 Provence in modern France till France refused to be 
 divided any longer into provinces. And he is, more¬ 
 over, invited by certain friends of the Roman Republic, 
 called the iEdui, to come and stop these rough Swiss 
 travellers. He is always willing to help the iEdui, 
 although these AEdui are a fickle, inconstant people,— 
 and he is, above all things, willing to get to war. So 
 he comes upon the rear of the Swiss when three 
 portions of the people have passed the river Arar 
 (Saone), and one portion is still behind. This hinder- 
 most tribe,—for the wretches were all of one tribe or 
 mountain canton,—he sets upon and utterly destroys; 
 and on this occasion congratulates himself on having 
 
THE EMIGRATION OF THE HELVETII. 37 
 
 avenged liimself upon the slayers of the grandfather 
 of his father-in-law. 
 
 There can he nothing more remarkable in history 
 than this story of the attempted emigration of the 
 Helvetii, which Caesar tells us without the expression 
 of any wonder. The whole people made up their 
 minds that, as their borders were narrow, their num¬ 
 bers increasing, and their courage good, they would go 
 forth,—men, women, and children,—and seek other 
 homes. We read constantly of the emigrations of 
 people,—of the Northmen from the north covering the 
 southern plains, of Danes and Jutes entering Britain, 
 of men from Scandinavia coming down across the 
 Rhine, and the like. We know that after this fashion 
 the world has become peopled. But we picture to 
 ourselves generally a concourse of warriors going forth 
 and leaving behind them homes and friends, to whom 
 they may or may not return. With these Swiss 
 wanderers there was to be no return. All that they 
 could not take with them they destroyed, burning 
 their houses, and burning even their corn, so that 
 there should be no means of turning their steps back¬ 
 ward. They do make considerable progress, getting 
 as far into France as Autun,—three-fourths of them 
 at least getting so far; but near this they are brought 
 to an engagement by Caesar, who outgenerals them 
 on a hill. The prestige of the Romans had not as yet 
 established itself in these parts, and the Swiss nearly 
 have the best of it. Caesar owns, as he does not own 
 again above once or twice, that the battle between 
 them was very long, and for long very doubtful. But 
 
38 
 
 TIIE WAR IN GAUL.—FIRST BOOK. 
 
 at last the poor Helvetii are driven in slaughter. 
 Caesar, however, is not content that they should 
 simply fly. He forces them back upon their old 
 territory,—upon their burnt houses and devastated 
 fields,—lest certain Germans should come and live 
 there, and make themselves disagreeable. And they 
 go back;—so many, at least, go back as are not slain in 
 the adventure. With great attempt at accuracy, Caesar 
 tells us that 368,000 human beings went out on the 
 expedition, and that 110,000, or less than a third, 
 found their way back. Of those that perished, many 
 hecatombs had been offered up to the shade of his 
 father-in-law’s grandfath er. 
 
 Hereupon the Gauls begin to see how great a man 
 is Caesar. He tells us that no sooner was that war 
 with the Swiss finished than nearly all the tribes of 
 Gallia send to congratulate him. And one special 
 tribe, those iEdui,—of whom we hear a great deal, 
 and whom we never like because they are thoroughly 
 anti-Gallican in all their doings till they think that 
 Caesar is really in trouble, and then they turn upon 
 him,—have to beg of him a great favour. Two tribes, 
 —the iEdui, whose name seems to have left no trace 
 in France, and the Arverni, whom we still know in 
 Auvergne,—have been long contending for the upper 
 hand; whereupon the Arverni and their friends the 
 Sequani have called in the assistance of certain Ger¬ 
 mans from across the Rhine. It went badly then 
 with the iEdui. And now one of their kings, named 
 Hivitiacus, implores the help of Caesar. Would Caesar 
 be kind enough to expel these horrid Germans, and 
 
A RIO VIST US AND HIS GERMANS. 
 
 39 
 
 get back the hostages, and free them from a burden¬ 
 some dominion, and put things a little to rights 1 
 And, indeed, not only were the iEdui suffering from 
 these Germans, and their king, Ariovistus; it is going 
 still worse with the Sequani, who had called them in. 
 In fact, Ariovistus was an intolerable nuisance to that 
 eastern portion of Gaul. Would Caesar be kind 
 enough to drive him out 1 Caesar consents, and then 
 we are made to think of another little fable,—of the 
 prayer which the horse made to the man for assistance 
 in his contest with the stag, and of the manner in 
 which the man got upon the horse, and never got 
 down again. Caesar was not slow to mount, and when 
 once in the saddle, certainly did not mean to leave it. 
 
 Caesar tells us his reasons for undertaking this com¬ 
 mission. The A£dui had often been called “ brothers ” 
 and “ cousins ” by the Roman Senate; and it was not 
 fitting that men who had been so honoured should be 
 domineered over by Germans. And then, unless these 
 marauding Germans could be stopped, they would fall 
 into the habit of coming across the Rhine, and at 
 last might get into the Province, and by that route 
 into Italy itself. And Ariovistus himself was per¬ 
 sonally so arrogant a man that the thing must be made 
 to cease. So Csesar sends ambassadors to Ariovistus, 
 and invites the barbarian to a meeting. The barbarian 
 will not come to the meeting. If he wanted to see 
 the Roman, he would go to the Roman : if the Roman 
 wants to see him, the Roman may come to him. Such 
 is the reply of Ariovistus. Ambassadors pass between 
 them, and there is a good deal of argument, in which 
 
40 
 
 THE WAR IN OA UL.—FIRST BOOK. 
 
 the barbarian has the best of it. Caesar, with his god¬ 
 like simplicity, scorns not to give the barbarian the 
 benefit of his logic. Ariovistus reminds Caesar that 
 the Romans have been in the habit of governing the 
 tribes conquered by them after their fashion, without 
 interference from him, Ariovistus; and that the Ger¬ 
 mans claim and mean to exercise the same right. He 
 goes on to say that he is willing enough to live in 
 amity with the Romans; but will Caesar be kind 
 enough to remember that the Germans are a people 
 unconquered in war, trained to the use of arms, 
 and how hardy he might judge when he was told 
 that for fourteen years they had not slept under a roof 1 
 In the mean time other Gauls w r ere complaining, and 
 begging for assistance. The Treviri, people of the 
 country where Treves now stands, are being harassed 
 by the terrible yellow-haired Suevi, who at this time 
 seem to have possessed nearly the whole of Prussia as 
 it now exists on the further side of the Rhine, and 
 who had the same desire to come westward that the 
 Prussians have evinced since. And a people called 
 the Harudes, from the Danube, are also harassing 
 the poor iEdui. Caesar, looking at these things, sees 
 that unless he is quick, the northern and southern 
 Germans may join their forces. He gets together his 
 commissariat, and flies at Ariovistus very quickly. 
 
 Throughout all his campaigns, Caesar, as did Hapo- 
 leon afterwards, effected everything by celerity. He 
 preaches to us no sermon on the subject, favours us 
 with no disquisition as to the value of despatch in war, 
 but constantly tells us that he moved all his army 
 
ARIOVISTUS AND HIS GERMANS. 
 
 41 
 
 “inagnis itineribus”—by very rapid marches; that he 
 went on with his work night and day, and took pre¬ 
 cautions “magno opere,”—with much labour and all 
 his care,—to be beforehand with the enemy. In this 
 instance Ariovistus tries to reach a certain town of the 
 poor Sequani, then called Vesontio, now known to us 
 as Besantjon,—the same name, but very much altered. 
 It consisted of a hill, or natural fortress, almost sur¬ 
 rounded by a river, or natural fosse. There is nothing, 
 says Caesar, so useful in a war as the possession of a 
 place thus naturally strong. Therefore he hurries on 
 and gets before Ariovistus, and occupies the town. 
 The reader already begins to feel that Caesar is des¬ 
 tined to divine success. The reader indeed knows 
 that beforehand, and expects nothing worse for Caesar 
 than hairbreadth escapes. But the Romans them 
 selves had not as yet the same confidence in him. 
 Tidings are brought to him at Vesontio that his men 
 are terribly afraid of the Germans. And so, no doubt, 
 they were. These Romans, though by the art of war 
 they had been made fine soldiers,—though they had 
 been trained in the Eastern conquests and the Punic 
 wars, and invasions of all nations around them,—w r ere 
 nevertheless, up to this day, greatly afraid even of the 
 Gauls. The coming of the Gauls into Italy had been 
 a source of terror to them ever since the days of 
 Brennus. And the Germans were worse than the 
 Gauls. The boast made by Ariovistus that his men 
 never slept beneath a roof was not vain or useless. 
 They were a horrid, hirsute, yellow-haired people, the 
 flashing aspect of whose eyes could hardly be endured 
 
42 
 
 THE WAR IN GAUL.—FIRST BOOK. 
 
 by an Italian. The fear is so great that the soldiers 
 “sometimes could not refrain even from tears;”— 
 “ neque interdum laerimas tenere poterant.” When 
 we remember what these men became after they had 
 been a while with Caesar, their blubbering awe of the 
 Germans strikes us as almost comic. And we are re¬ 
 minded that the Italians of those days were, as they are 
 now, more prone to show the outward signs of emotion 
 than is thought to be decorous with men in more northern 
 climes. We can hardly realise the idea of soldiers cry 
 ing from fear. Caesar is told by his centurions that so 
 great is this feeling, that the men will probably refuse 
 to take up their arms when called upon to go out and 
 fight; whereupon he makes a speech to all his cap¬ 
 tains and lieutenants, full of boasting, full of scorn, full, 
 no doubt, of falsehood, but using a bit of truth when¬ 
 ever the truth could aid him. We know that among 
 other great gifts Caesar had the gift of persuasion. 
 From his tongue, also, as from Hestor’s, could flow 
 “ words sweeter than honey,”—or sharper than steel. At 
 any rate, if others will not follow him, his tenth legion, 
 he knows, will be true to him. He will go forth with 
 that one legion,—if necessary, with that legion of true 
 soldiers, and with no others. Though he had been at 
 his work but a short time, he already had his picked 
 men, his guards, his favourite regiments, his tenth 
 legion ; and he knew well how to use their superiority 
 and valour for the creation of those virtues in others. 
 
 Then Ariovistus sends ambassadors, and declares 
 that he now is willing to meet Caesar. Let them meet 
 on a certain plain, each bringing only his cavalry 
 
A RIO VIST US AND HIS GERMANS. 
 
 43 
 
 guard. Ariovistus suggests tliat foot-soldiers might 
 he dangerous, knowing that Caesar’s foot-soldiers would 
 bo Romans, and that his cavalry are Gauls. Caesar 
 agrees, but takes men out of his own tenth legion, 
 mounted on the horses of the less-trusted allies. The 
 accounts of these meetings, and the arguments which 
 we are told are used on this and that side, are very 
 interesting. We are bound to remember that Caesar 
 is telling the story for both sides, but we feel that he 
 tries to tell it fairly. Ariovistus had very little to say 
 to Caesar’s demands, but a great deal to say about his 
 own exploits. The meeting, however, was broken up 
 by an attack made by the Germans on Caesar’s mounted 
 guard, and Caesar retires,—not, however, before he 
 has explained to Ariovistus his grand idea of the pro¬ 
 tection due by Rome to her allies. Then Ariovistus 
 proposes another meeting, which Caesar declines to 
 attend, sending, however, certain ambassadors. Ario¬ 
 vistus at once throws the ambassadors into chains, and 
 then there is nothing for it but a fight. 
 
 The details of all these battles cannot be given 
 within our short limits, and there is nothing special 
 in this battle to tempt us to dwell upon it. Caesar 
 describes to us the way in which the German cavalry 
 and infantry fought together, the footmen advancing 
 from amidst the horsemen, and then returning for 
 protection. His own men fight well, and the Ger 
 mans, in spite of their flashing eyes, are driven head 
 long in a rout back to the Rhine. Ariovistus succeeds 
 in getting over the river and saving himself, but he 
 has to leave his two daughters behind, and his two 
 
u 
 
 THE WAR IN GAUL.—FIRST BOOK . 
 
 wives. The two wives and one of the daughters are 
 killed; the other daughter is taken prisoner. Caesar had 
 sent as one of his ambassadors to the German a certain 
 dear friend of his, who, as we heard before, was, with 
 his comrade, at once subjected to chains. In the flight 
 this ambassador is recovered. “ Which thing, indeed, 
 gave Caesar not less satisfaction than the victory itself, 
 —in that he saw one of the honestest men of the Pro¬ 
 vince of Gaul, his own familiar friend and guest, 
 rescued from the hands of his enemies and restored to 
 him. Nor. did Fortune diminish this gratification *>y 
 any calamity inflicted on the man. Thrice, as he him¬ 
 self told the tale, had it been decided by lot in his 
 own presence whether he should then be burned alive 
 or reserved for another time.” So Caesar tells the story, 
 and we like him for his enthusiasm, and are glad to hear 
 that the comrade ambassador also is brought back. 
 
 The yellow-haired Suevi, when they hear of all 
 this, desist from their invasion on the lower Phine, 
 and hurry back into their own country, not without 
 misfortunes on the road. So great already is Caesar’s 
 name, that tribes, acting as it were on his side, dare to 
 attack even the Suevi. Then, in his “Veni, vidi, 
 vici” style, he tells us that, having in one summei 
 finished off two wars, he is able to put his army into 
 Winter quarters even before the necessary time, so that 
 he himself may go into his other Gaul across the Alps, 
 —“ ad conventus agendos,”— to hold some kind of 
 session or assizes for the government of his province, 
 and especially to collect more soldiers. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 SECOND BOOK OF THE WAR IN GAUL.—CJESAE SUBDUES 
 THE BELGIAN TRIBES.—B.C. 57 . 
 
 The man liad got on tlie horse’s hack, hut the horse had 
 various disagreeable enemies in attacking whom the 
 man might he very useful, and the horse was therefore 
 not as yet anxious to unseat his rider. Would Cresar 
 he so good as to go and conquer the P>elgian tribes 1 
 Caesar is not slow in finding reasons for so doing. 
 The Belgians are conspiring together against him. 
 They think that as all Gaul has been reduced,—or 
 “pacified,” as Caesar calls it,—the Roman conqueror will 
 certainly bring his valour to hear upon them, and that 
 they had better be ready. Caesar suggests that it 
 would no doubt be felt by them as a great grievance 
 that a Roman army should remain all the winter so 
 near to them. In this way, and governed by these 
 considerations, the Belgian lambs disturb the stream 
 very sadly, and the wolf has to look to it. He collects 
 two more legions, and, as soon as the earth brings 
 forth the food necessary for his increased number of 
 men and horses, he hurries off against these Belgian 
 tribes of Northern Gallia. Of these, one tribe, the 
 
46 TIIE WAR IN GAUL.--SECOND BOOK. 
 
 Remi, immediately send word to him that they are 
 not wicked lambs like the others; they have not 
 touched the waters. All the other Belgians, say the 
 Remi, and with them a parcel of Germans, are in a con- 
 sp .racy together. Even their very next-door neighbours, 
 their brothers and cousins, the Suessiones, are wicked; 
 but they, the Remi, have steadily refused even to sniff 
 at the stream, which they acknowledge to be the 
 exclusive property of the good wolf. Would the wolf 
 be kind enough to come and take possession of them 
 and all their belongings, and allow them to be the 
 humblest of his friends 1 We come to hate these Remi, 
 as we do the AEdui; but they are wise in their genera¬ 
 tion, and escape much of the starvation and massa¬ 
 cring and utter ruin to which the other tribes are sub¬ 
 jected. Among almost all these so-called Belgian tribes 
 we find the modern names which are familiar to us. 
 Rheims is in the old country of the Remi, Soissons in 
 that of the Suessiones. Beauvais represents the Bel¬ 
 lo vaci, Amiens the Ambiani, Arras the Atrebates, 
 Treves the Treviri,—as has been pointed out before. 
 Silva Arduenna is, of course, the Forest of Ardennes. 
 
 The campaign is commenced by an attack made by the 
 other Belgians on those unnatural Remi who have gone 
 over to the Romans. There is a town of theirs, Bibrax, 
 now known, or rather not known, ns Bievre, and here 
 the Remi are besieged by their brethren. When 
 Bibrax is on the point of falling,—and we can imagine 
 what would then have been the condition of the towns¬ 
 men,—they send to Caesar, who is only eight miles 
 distant. Unless Caesar will help, they cannot endure 
 
CAESAR REDUCES THE BELGIAN TRIBES. 47 
 
 any longer such onslaught as is made on them. Caesar, 
 having hided his time, of course sends help, and the 
 poor besieging Belgians fall into inextricable confusion. 
 They agree to go home, each to his own country, and 
 from thence to proceed to the defence of any tribe 
 which Caesar might attack. “ So,” says Caesar, as he 
 ends the story of this little affair, “ without any danger 
 on our part, our men killed as great a number of theirs 
 as the space of the day would admit.” When the sun 
 set, and not till then, came an end to the killing,— 
 such having been the order of Caesar. 
 
 That these Belgians had really formed any intention 
 of attacking the Roman province, or even any Roman 
 ally, there is no other proof than that Caesar tells us 
 that they had all conspired. But whatever might be 
 their sin, or what the lack of sin on their part, he is 
 determined to go on with the war till he has subju¬ 
 gated them altogether. On the very next day he 
 attacks the Suessiones, and gets as far as bToviodunum, 
 —Royons. The people there, when they see how ter¬ 
 rible are his engines of war, give up all idea of defend¬ 
 ing themselves, and ask for terms. The Bellovaci do 
 the same. At the instigation of his friends the Remi, 
 he spares the one city, and, to please the iEdui, the 
 other. But he takes away all their .arms, and exacts 
 hostages. From the Bellovaci, because they have a 
 name as a powerful people, he takes 600 hostages. 
 Throughout all these wars it becomes a matter of 
 wonder to us what Csesar did with all these hostages, 
 and how he maintained them. It was, however, no 
 doubt clearly understood that they would be killed if 
 
48 THE WAR IN GAUL.—SECOND BOOK. 
 
 the town, or state, or tribe by which they were given 
 should misbehave, or in any way thwart the great 
 conqueror. 
 
 The Amhiani come next, and the ancestors of our 
 intimate friends at Amiens soon give themselves up. 
 The next to them are the Hervii, a people far away to 
 the north, where Lille now is and a considerable por¬ 
 tion of Flanders. Of these Caesar had heard wonder¬ 
 ful travellers’ tales. They were a people who admitted 
 no dealers among them, being in this respect very un¬ 
 like their descendants, the Belgians of to-day; they 
 drank no wine, and indulged in no luxuries, lest their 
 martial valour should be diminished. They send no 
 ambassadors to Caesar, and resolve to hold their own 
 if they can. They trust solely to infantry in battle, 
 and know nothing of horses. Against the cavalry of 
 other nations, however, they are wont to protect them¬ 
 selves by artificial hedges, which they make almost 
 as strong as walls. 
 
 Caesar in attacking the Nervii had eight legions, and 
 he tells us how he advanced against them “consuetu- 
 dine sua,”—after his usual fashion. For some false in¬ 
 formation had been given to the Kervii on this subject, 
 which brought them into considerable trouble. He 
 sent on first his .cavalry, then six legions, the legions 
 consisting solely of foot-soldiers; after these all the 
 baggage, commissariat, and burden of the army, com¬ 
 prising the materials necessary for sieges; and lastly, 
 the two other legions, which had been latest enrolled. 
 It may be as well to explain here that the legion in the 
 time of Caesar consisted m paper of six thousand heavy- 
 
CAESAR REDUCES THE BELGIAN TRIBES. 49 
 
 armed foot-soldiers. There were ten cohorts in a legion, 
 and six centuries, or six hundred men, in each cohort. 
 It may possibly be that, as with our regiments, the 
 numbers were frequently not full. Eight full legions 
 would thus have formed an army consisting of 48,000 
 infantry. The exact number of men under his orders 
 Caesar does not mention here or elsewhere. 
 
 According to his own showing, Caesar is hurried into 
 a battle before he knows where he is. Caesar, he says, 
 had everything to do himself, all at the same time,— 
 to unfurl the standard of battle, to give the signal with 
 the trumpet, to get back the soldiers from their work, 
 to call back some who had gone to a distance for stuff 
 to make a rampart, to draw up the army, to address the 
 men, and then to give the word. In that matter of 
 oratory, he only tells them to remember their old 
 valour. The enemy was so close upon them, and so 
 ready for fighting, that they could scarcely put on their 
 helmets and take their shields out of their cases. So 
 great was the confusion that the soldiers could not get 
 to their own ranks, but had to fight as they stood,- 
 under any flag that was nearest to them. There were 
 so many things against them, and especially those thick 
 artificial hedges, which prevented them even from see¬ 
 ing, that it was impossible for them, to fight according 
 to any method, and in consequence there were vicissi¬ 
 tudes of fortune. One is driven to feel that on this 
 occasion Caesar was caught napping. The JSTervii did 
 at times and places seem to be getting the best of it. 
 The ninth and tenth legions pursue one tribe into a river, 
 and then they have to fight them again, and drive them 
 
 A. c. vol. iv. D 
 
50 THE WAR IN GA UL.—SECOND BOOK. 
 
 out of the river. The eleventh and eighth, having put to 
 flight another tribe, are attacked on the very river-banks. 
 The twelfth and the seventh have their hands equally 
 full, when Boduognatus, the Servian chief, makes his 
 way into the very middle of the Boman camp. So 
 great is the confusion that the Treviri, who had joined 
 Caesar on this occasion as allies, although reputed the 
 bravest of the cavalry of Gaul, run away home, and 
 declare that the Bomans are conquered. Caesar, how¬ 
 ever, comes to the rescue, and saves his army on this 
 occasion by personal prowess. When he saw how it 
 was going,—“rem esse in angusto,”—how the thing 
 had got itself into the very narrowest neck of a diffi¬ 
 culty, he seizes a sliield from a common soldier,—having 
 come there himself with no shield,—and rushes into the 
 fight. When the soldiers saw him, and saw, too, that 
 what they did was done in his sight, they fought anew, 
 and the onslaught of the enemy was checked. 
 
 Perhaps readers will wish that they could know how 
 much of all this is exactly true. It reads as though it 
 were true. We cannot in these days understand how 
 one brave man at such a moment should be so much 
 more effective than another, how he should be known 
 personally to the soldiers of an army so large, how Caesar 
 should have known the names of the centurions,—for he 
 tells us that he addresses them by name;—and yet it 
 reads like truth ; and the reader feels that as Caesar 
 would hardly condescend to boast, so neither would he 
 be constrained by any modern feeling of humility from 
 telling any truth of himself. It is as though Minerva 
 were to tell us of some descent which she mad* 
 
CjESAR REDUCES THE BELGIAN TRIBES. 51 
 
 among the Trojans. The Nervii fight on, "but of course 
 they are driven in flight. The nation is all but de¬ 
 stroyed, so that the very name can but hardly remain ; 
 —so at least we are told here, though we h?ar of them 
 again as a tribe by no means destroyed or powerless. 
 When out of six hundred senators there are but three 
 senators left, when from sixty thousand fighting men 
 the army has been reduced to scarcely five hundred, 
 Caesar throws the mantle of his mercy over the sur¬ 
 vivors. He allows them even to go and live in their 
 own homes, and forbids their neighbours to harass 
 them. There can be no doubt that Caesar nearly got 
 the worst of it in this struggle, and we may surmise 
 that he learned a lesson which was of service to him 
 in subsequent campaigns. 
 
 But there are still certain Aduatici to be disposed 
 of before the summer is over,—people who had helped 
 the Nervii,—who have a city of their own, and who 
 live somewhere in the present Namur district.* At 
 first they fight a little round the walls of their town; 
 but when they see what terrible instruments Caesar 
 
 * These people were the descendants of those Cimbri who, half 
 a century before, had caused such woe to Rome ! The Cimbri, we 
 are told, had gone forth from their lands, and had been six times 
 victorious over Roman armies, taking possession of “our Pro¬ 
 vince,” and threatening Italy and Rome. The whole empire of 
 the Republic had been in danger, but was at last saved by the 
 courage, skill, and rapidity of Marius. In going forth from 
 their country they had left a remnant behind with such of their 
 possessions as they could not carry with them ; and these 
 Aduatici were the children and grandchildren of that remnant. 
 Ciesar doubtless remembered it all. 
 
52 THE WAR IH OAUL.—SECOKD BOOK. 
 
 has, by means of which to get at them over their very 
 walls,—how he can build up a great turret at a distance, 
 which, at that distance, is ludicrous to them, but which 
 he brings near to them, so that it overhangs them, from 
 which to harass them with arrows and stones, and 
 against which, so high is it, they have no defence— 
 then they send out and beg for mercy. Surely, they 
 say, Caesar and the Romans must have more than 
 human power. They will give up everything, if only 
 Caesar out of his mercy will leave to them their arms. 
 They are always at war with all their neighbours; and 
 where would they be without arms 1 
 
 Caesar replies. Merits of their own they have none. 
 How could a tribe have merits against which Caesar 
 was at war 1 Nevertheless, such being his custom, he 
 will admit them to some terms of grace if they sur¬ 
 render before his battering - ram has touched their 
 walls. But as for their arms, surely they must be 
 joking with him. Of course their arms must be sur¬ 
 rendered. What he had done for the Nervii he would 
 do for them. He would tell their neighbours not to 
 hurt them. They agree, and throw their arms into the 
 outside ditch of the town, but not quite all their arms. 
 A part,—a third,—are cunningly kept back ; and when 
 Caesar enters the town, they who have kept their arms, 
 and others unarmed, try to escape from the town. They 
 fight, and some thousands are slain. Others are driven 
 back, and these are sold for slaves. Who, we wonder, 
 could have been the purchasers, and at what price on 
 that day was a man to be bought in the city of the 
 Aduatici? 
 
CJ2SAR REDUCES THE BELGIAN TRIBES. 53 
 
 Then Csesar learns through his lieutenant, young 
 Crassus, the son of his colleague in the triumvirate, that 
 all the Belgian states, from the Scheldt to the Bay of 
 Biscay, have been reduced beneath the yoke of the 
 Homan people. The Germans, too, send ambassadors 
 to him, so convinced are they that to fight against him 
 is of no avail,—so wonderful an idea of this last war 
 has pervaded all the tribes of barbarians. But Caesar 
 is in a hurry, and can hear no ambassadors now. He 
 wants to get into Italy, and they must come again to 
 him next summer. 
 
 Bor all which glorious doings a public thanksgiving 
 of fifteen days is decreed, as soon as the news is heard 
 
 in Rome. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THIRD BOOK OF THE WAR IN GAUL.—C2ESAR SUBDUES 
 THE WESTERN TRIBES OF GAUL.— B.C. 56 . 
 
 In tlie first few lines of the third book we learn that 
 Caesar had an eye not only for conquest, hut for the 
 advantages of conquest also. When he went into 
 Italy at the end of the last campaign, he sent one 
 Galba, whose descendant became emperor after Hero, 
 with the twelfth legion, to take up his winter quarters 
 in the upper valley of the Rhone, in order that an 
 easier traffic might be opened to traders passing over 
 the Alps in and out of Northern Italy. It seems that 
 the passage used was that of the Great St Bernard, and 
 Galba placed himself with his legion at that junction 
 of the valley which we all know so well as Martigny. 
 Here, however, he was attacked furiously in his camp 
 by the inhabitants of the valley, who probably objected 
 to being dictated to as to the amount of toll to be 
 charged upon the travelling traders, and was very nearly 
 destroyed. The Romans, however, at last, when they 
 had neither weapons nor food left for maintaining their 
 camp, resolved to cut their way through their enemies. 
 Tliis they did so effectually that they slaughtered more 
 
CJSSAR MAKES LITTLE OF DIFFICULTIES. 55 
 
 than ten thousand men, and the other twenty thou¬ 
 sand of Swiss warriors all took to flight ! Nevertheless 
 Galba thought it as well to leave that inhospitable 
 region, in which it was almost impossible to find food 
 for the winter, and took himself down the valley and 
 along the lake to the Roman Province. He made his 
 winter-quarters among the Allobroges, who belonged to 
 the Province,—a people living just south of the present 
 Lyons. How the Allobroges liked it we are not told, 
 but we know that they were then very faithful, al¬ 
 though in former days they had given great trouble. 
 Their position made faith to Rome almost a necessity. 
 Whether, in such a position, Caesar’s lieutenants paid 
 their way, and bought their corn at market price, we 
 do not know. It was Caesar’s rule, no doubt, to make 
 the country on which his army stood support his army. 
 
 When the number of men whom Caesar took with 
 
 liim into countries hitherto unknown to him or his 
 
 army is considered, and the apparently reckless au- 
 
 • 
 
 dacity with which he did so, it must be acknowledged 
 that he himself says very little about his difficulties. 
 He must constantly have had armies for which to 
 provide twice as large as our Crimean army,—probably 
 as large as the united force of the English and French 
 in the Crimea; and he certainly could not bring with 
 him what he wanted in ships. The road from Bala¬ 
 clava up to the heights over Sebastopol, we know, was 
 very bad ; but it was short. The road from the foot of 
 the Alps in the Roman province to the countries with 
 which we were dealing in the last chapter could not, 
 we should say, have been very good two thousand 
 
56 
 
 THE WAR IN GAUL.—THIRD BOOK. 
 
 years ago, and it certainly was very long;—nearly a 
 hundred miles for Caesar to every single one of those 
 that were so terrible to us in the Crimea. Caesar, 
 however, carried but little with him beyond his arms 
 and implements of war, and of those the heaviest lie 
 no doubt made as he went. The men had an allow¬ 
 ance of corn per da} 7 , besides so much pay. We are 
 told that the pay before Caesar’s time was 100 asses 
 a-month for the legionaries,—the as being less than a 
 penny,—and that this was doubled by Caesar. We 
 can conceive that the money troubled him compara¬ 
 tively slightly, but that the finding of the daily corn and 
 forage for so large a host of men and horses must have 
 been very difficult. He speaks of the difficulty often, 
 but never with that despair which was felt as to the 
 roasting of our coffee in the Crimea. We hear of his 
 waiting till forage should have grown, and sometimes 
 there are necessary considerations “ de re frumentaria,” 
 —-about that great general question of provisions ; but 
 of crushing difficulties very little is said, and of bad 
 roads not a word. One great advantage Caesar certainly 
 had over Lord Raglan;—he was his own special cor* 
 respondent. Coffee his men certainly did not get; but 
 if their corn were not properly roasted for them, and if, 
 as would be natural, the men grumbled, he had with 
 him no licensed collector of grumbles to make public 
 the sufferings of his men. 
 
 And now, when this affair of Galba’s had been 
 finished,—when Caesar, as he tells us, really did think 
 that all Gaul was “ pacatam,” tranquillised, or at least 
 subdued,—the Belgians conquered, the Germans driven 
 
CAESAR SUBDUES TUE WESTERN TRIBES. 57 
 
 off, those Swiss fellows cut to pieces in the valley of 
 the Rhone; when he thought that he might make a 
 short visit into that other province of his, Illyricum, 
 so that he might see what that was like,—he is told 
 that another war has sprung up in Gaul! Young 
 Crassus, with that necessity which of course was on him 
 of providing winter food for the seventh legion which 
 he had been ordered to take into Aquitania, has been 
 obliged to send out for corn into the neighbouring 
 countries. Of course a well-instructed young general, 
 such as was Crassus, had taken hostages before he sent 
 his men out among strange and wild barbarians. Rut 
 in spite of that, the Yeneti, a maritime people of an¬ 
 cient Brittany, just in that country of the Morbihan 
 whither we now go to visit the works of the Druids at 
 Carnac and Locmariaker, absolutely detained his two 
 ambassadors —so called afterwards, though in his first 
 mention of them Caesar names them as praefects and 
 tribunes of the soldiers. Yannes, the capital of the 
 department of the Morbihan, gives us a trace of the 
 name of this tribe. The Yeneti, who were powerful 
 in ships, did not see why they should give their corn 
 to Crassus. Caesar, when he hears that ambassadors, 
 — sacred ambassadors, — have been stopped, is filled 
 with shame and indignation, and hurries off himself to 
 look after the affair, having, as we may imagine, been 
 able to see very little of Illyricum. 
 
 This horror of Caesar in regard to his ambassadors,— 
 in speaking of which he alludes to what the Gauls 
 themselves felt when they came to understand what a 
 thing they had done in making ambassadors prisoners. 
 
58 
 
 THE WAR IN GAUL.—THIRD BOOR . 
 
 —“ legatos,”—a name that has always been held sacred 
 and inviolate among all nations,—is very great, and 
 makes him feel that he must really he in earnest. We 
 are reminded of the injunctions, printed in Spanish, 
 which the Spaniards distributed among the Indians of 
 the continent, in the countries now called Venezuela 
 and Hew Granada, explaining to the people, who knew 
 nothing of Spanish or of printing, how they were 
 hound to obey the orders of a distant king, who had 
 the authority of a more distant Pope, who again,—so 
 they claimed,—was delegated by a more distant God. 
 The pain of history consists in the injustice of the 
 wolf towards the lamb, joined to the conviction that 
 thus, and no otherwise, could the lamb be brought to 
 better than a sheepish mode of existence ! But Csesar 
 was in earnest.* The following is a translation of the 
 tenth section of this book; “There were these diffi¬ 
 culties in carrying on the war which we have above 
 shown.”—He alludes to the maritime capacities of the 
 people whom he desires to conquer.—“ Many things, 
 nevertheless, urged Caesar on to this war;—the wrongs 
 of those Boman knights who had been detained, rebel¬ 
 lion set on foot after an agreed surrender,”—that any 
 
 * And Cresar was no doubt indignant as well as earnest, 
 though, perhaps, irrational in his indignation. We know how 
 sacred was held to be the person of the Roman citizen, and 
 remember Cicero’s patriotic declaration, “ Facinus est vinciri 
 civem Romanum,—scelus verberari; ” and again, the words 
 which Horace puts into the mouth of Regulus when he asserts 
 that the Roman soldier must be lost for ever in his shame, and 
 useless, “Qui lora restiictis lacertis Sensit iners timuitque 
 mortem.” 
 
CAESAR SUBDUES THE WESTERN TRIBES. 59 
 
 such, surrender had been made we do not hear, though 
 we do hear, incidentally, that Crassus had taken hos¬ 
 tages ;—“ a falling off from alliance after hostages had 
 been given; conspiracy among so many tribes; and 
 then this first consideration, that if this side of the 
 country were disregarded, the other tribes might learn 
 to think that they might take the same liberty. Then, 
 when he bethought himself that, as the Gauls were 
 prone to rebellion, and were quickly and easily excited 
 to war, and that all men, moreover, are fond of liberty 
 and hate a condition of subjection, he resolved that it 
 would be well, rather than that other states should 
 conspire,”—and to avoid the outbreak on behalf of free¬ 
 dom which might thus probably be made,—“ that his 
 army should be divided, and scattered about more 
 widely.” Treating all Gaul as a chess-board, he sends 
 round to provide that the Treviri should be kept quiet. 
 Readers will remember how far Treves is distant from 
 the extremities of Brittany. The Belgians are to be 
 looked to, lest they should rise and come and help. 
 The Germans are to be prevented from crossing the 
 Rhine. Labienus, who, during the Gallic wars, w r as 
 Caesar’s general highest in trust, is to see to all this. 
 Crassus is to go back into Aquitania and keep the south 
 quiet. Titurius Sabinus, destined afterwards to a sad 
 end, is sent with three legions,—eighteen thousand men, 
 —among the neighbouring tribes of Northern Brittany 
 and Normandy. “Young” Decimus Brutus,—Caesar 
 speaks of him with that kind affection which the epithet 
 conveys, and we remember, as we read, that this Brutus 
 appears afterwards in history as one of Caesar’s slayers, 
 
6C 
 
 THE WAR IN GAUL.—THIRD BOOR . 
 
 in conjunction with his greater namesake,—young De* 
 cimus Brutus, the future conspirator in Rome, has con¬ 
 fided to him the fleet which is to destroy these much 
 less guilty distant conspirators, and Caesar himself takes 
 the command of his own legions on the spot. All this 
 is told in fewer words than are here used in describing 
 the telling, and the reader feels that he has to do with a 
 mighty man, whose eyes are everywhere, and of whom 
 an ordinary enemy would certainly say, Surely this is 
 no man, but a god. 
 
 He tells us how great was the effect of his own 
 presence on the shore, though the battle was carried 
 on under young Brutus at sea. “ What remained of 
 the conflict,” he says, after describing their manoeuvres, 
 “ depended on valour, in which our men were far away 
 the superior; and this was more especially true be¬ 
 cause the affair was carried on so plainly in the sight 
 of Caesar and the whole army that no brave deed could 
 pass unobserved. For all the hills and upper lands, 
 from whence the view down upon the sea was close, 
 were covered by the army.” 
 
 Of course he conquers the Yeneti and other sea-going 
 tribes, even on their own element. Whereupon they 
 give themselves and all their belongings up to Caesar. 
 Caesar, desirous that the rights of ambassadors shall 
 hereafter be better respected among barbarians, deter¬ 
 mines that he must use a little severity. “Gravius 
 vindicandum statuit; ”—“ he resolved that the offence 
 should be expiated with more than ordinary punish¬ 
 ment.” Consequently, he kills all the senate, and sells 
 all the other men as slaves ! The pithy brevity, the 
 
CJESAR SUBDUES THE WESTERN TRIBES. G1 
 
 unapologetic dignity of the sentence, as he pronounced 
 it and tells it to us, is heartrending, hut, at this dis¬ 
 tance of time, delightful also. “ Itaque, omni senatu 
 necato, reliquos sub corona vendidit; ”—“ therefore, 
 all the senate having been slaughtered, he sold the 
 other citizens with chaplets on their heads ; ”—it being 
 the Roman custom so to mark captives in war intended 
 for sale. We can see him as he waves his hand and 
 passes on. Surely he must be a god ! 
 
 His generals in this campaign are equally successful. 
 One Yiridovix, a Gaul up in the Normandy country,— 
 somewhere about Avranches or St Lo, we may imagine, 
 — is entrapped into a fight, and destroyed with his 
 army. Aquitania surrenders herself to Crassus, after 
 much fighting, and gives up her arms. 
 
 Then Caesar reflects that the Morin i and the Menapii 
 had as yet never bowed their heads to him. Boulogne 
 and Calais stand in the now well-known territory of 
 the Morini, but the Menapii lie a long way off, up 
 among the mouths of the Scheldt and the Rhine,—the 
 Low Countries of modern history,—an uncomfortable 
 people then, who would rush into their woods and 
 marshes after a spell of fighting, and who seemed to 
 have no particular homes or cities that could be at¬ 
 tacked or destroyed. It was nearly the end of summer 
 just now, and the distance between, let us say, Yannes 
 in Brittany, and Breda, or even Antwerp, seems to us 
 tc be considerable, when we remember the condition of 
 the country, and the size of Caesar’s army. But he had 
 a few weeks to fill up, and then he might feel that all 
 Gaul had been “ pacified.” At present there was this 
 
62 
 
 THE WAR IN GAUL.—THIRD BOOR. 
 
 haughty little northern corner. “ Omni Gallia pacata, 
 Morini Menapiique supererant; ”■—“ all Gaul having 
 been pacified, the Morini and Menapii remained.” He 
 was, moreover, no doubt beginning to reflect that from 
 the Morini could be made the shortest journey into that 
 wild Ultima Thule of an island in which lived the 
 Britanni. Caesar takes advantage of the few weeks, and 
 attacks these uncomfortable people. When they retreat 
 into the woods, he cuts the woods down. He does cut 
 down an immense quantity of wood, but the enemy only 
 recede into thicker and bigger woods. Bad weather 
 comes on, and the soldiers can no longer endure life in 
 their skin tents. Let us fancy these Italians encounter¬ 
 ing winter in undrained Blunders, with no walls or roofs 
 to protect them, and ordered to cut down interminable 
 woods! Had a ‘Times’ been then written and filed, in¬ 
 stead of a “Commentary” from the hands of the General- 
 in-chief, we should probably have heard of a good deal 
 of suffering. As it is, we are only told that Csesar had. 
 to give up his enterprise for that year. He therefore 
 burned all their villages, laid waste all their fields, and 
 then took his army down into a more comfortable re¬ 
 gion south of the Seine, and there put them into winter 
 quarters,—net much to the comfort of the people there 
 residing. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 FOURTH BOOK OF THE WAR IN GAUL.—CiESAR CROSSES THB 
 RHINE, SLAUGHTERS THE GERMANS, AND GOES INTO 
 BRITAIN.—B.C. 55 . 
 
 In the next year certain Germans, TJsipetes and others, 
 crossed the Rhine into Ganl, not far from the sea, as 
 Caesar tells us. He tells us again, that when he drove 
 the Germans hack over the river, it was near the 
 confluence of the Meuse and the Rhine. When we 
 remember how difficult it was for Caesar to obtain 
 information, we must acknowledge that his geography 
 as to the passage of the Rhine out to the sea, and of 
 the junction of the Rhine and the Meuse by the Waal, 
 is wonderfully correct. The spot indicated as that at 
 which the Germans were driven into the river would 
 seem to be near Bommel in Holland, where the Waal 
 and the Meuse join their waters, at the head of the 
 island* of Bommel, where Fort St Andrt$ stands, or stood.* 
 
 * Caesar speaks of the confluence of the Rhine and the 
 “Mosa” as the spot at which he drove the Germans into the 
 river,—and in various passages, speaking of the Mosa, clearly 
 means the Meuse. It appears, however, to be the opinion of 
 English scholars who have studied the topography of Caesar’s 
 
64 THE WAR IN GAUL.-FOURTH BOOK. 
 
 Those wonderful Suevi, among whom the men 
 alternately fight and plough, year and year about, 
 caring more, however, for cattle than they do for corn, 
 who are socialists in regard to land, having no private 
 property in their fields,—who, all of therm from their 
 youth upwards, do just what they please,—large, bony 
 men, who wear, even in these cold regions, each simply 
 some scanty morsel of skin covering,—who bathe in rivers 
 all the year through, who deal with traders only to sell 
 the spoils of war, who care but little for their horses, 
 and ride, when they do ride, without saddles,—think¬ 
 ing nothing of men to whom such delicate appendages 
 are necessary,—who drink no wine, and will have no 
 neighbours near them,—these ferocious Suevi have 
 driven other German tribes over the Rhine into Gaul. 
 Caesar, hearing this, is filled with apprehension. He 
 knows the weakness of his poor friends the Gauls,— 
 how prone they are to gossiping, of what a restless tem¬ 
 per. It is in the country of the Menapii, the tribe with 
 which he did not quite finish his little affair in the last 
 chapter, that these Germans are settling; and there is 
 no knowing what trouble the intruders may give him 
 if he allows them to make themselves at home on that 
 
 campaigns with much labour, that the confluence of the Moselle 
 and Rhine, from which Coblentz derives its name, is the spot 
 intended. Napoleon, who has hardly made himself an autho¬ 
 rity on the affairs of Caesar generally, hut who is thought to be 
 an authority in regard to topography, holds to the opinion that 
 the site in Holland is intended to be described. Readers 
 who are anxious on the subject can ehoose between the two ; 
 but readers who are not anxious will probably he more numer¬ 
 ous. 
 
CjESAR DRIVES THE GERMANS OUT OF GAUL. 65 
 
 side of the river. So he hurries off to give help to 
 the poor Menapii. 
 
 Of course there is a sending of ambassadors. The 
 Germans acknowledge that they have been turned out 
 of their own lands by their brethren, the Suevi, who 
 are better men than they are. But they profess that, 
 in fighting, the Suevi, and the Suevi only, are their 
 masters. Not even the immortal gods can stand 
 against the Suevi. But they also are Germans, and 
 are not at all afraid of the Romans. But in the pro¬ 
 position which they make they show some little awe. 
 Will Caesar allow them to remain where they are, or allot 
 to them some other region on that side of the Rhine 1 
 Caesar tells them that they may go and live, if they 
 please, with the Ubii,—another tribe of Germans who 
 occupy the Rhine country, probably where Cologne now 
 stands, or perhaps a little north of it, and who seem already 
 to have been forced over the Rhine,—they, or some of 
 them,—and to have made good their footing somewhere 
 in the region in which Charlemagne built his church, 
 now called Aix-la-Chapelle. There they are, Germans 
 still, and probably are so because these Ubii made 
 good their footing. The Ubii also are in trouble with 
 the Suevi; and if these intruders will go and join the 
 Ubii, Caesar will make it all straight for them. The 
 intruders hesitate, but do not go, and at last attack 
 Caesar’s cavalry, not without some success. During 
 this fight there is double treachery,—first on the part 
 of the Germans, and then on Caesar’s part,—which is 
 chiefly memorable for the attack made on Caesar in 
 Rome. It was in consequence of the deceit here 
 
 a. c. voh iv. K 
 
66 the WAR IN GAUL.—FOURTH BOOK. 
 
 practised that it was proposed "by his enemies in the 
 city that he should he given up by the Republic to 
 the foe. Had any such decree been passed, it would 
 not have been easy to give up Caesar. 
 
 The Germans are, of course, beaten, and they are 
 driven into the river on those low and then undrained 
 regions in which the Rhine and the Meuse and the 
 Waal confuse themselves and confuse travellers;— 
 either here, or much higher up the river at Coblentz, 
 hut the reader will already have settled that question 
 for himself at the beginning of the chapter. Ca3sar 
 speaks of these Germans as though they were all 
 drowned, — men, women, and children. They had 
 brought their entire families with them, and, when 
 the lighting went against them, with their entire 
 families they fled into the river. Caesar was pursuing 
 them after the battle, and they precipitated themselves 
 over the banks. There, overcome by fear, fatigue, and 
 the waters, they perished. There was computed to 
 be a hundred and eighty thousand of them who were 
 destroyed ; but the Roman army was safe to a man.* 
 
 Then Caesar made up his mind to cross the river. 
 It seems that he had no intention of extending the 
 empire of the Republic into what he called Germany, 
 but that he thought it necessary to frighten the Ger¬ 
 mans. The cavalry of those intruding Usipetes had, 
 luckily for them, been absent, foraging over the river ; 
 and he now sent to the Sigambri, among whom they 
 
 * “ Hostium numerus capitum CDXXX millium fuisset,” 
 from which words we are led to suppose that there were 180,000 
 fighting men, besides the women and children. 
 
CJSSAR DRIVES THE GERMANS OUT OF GAUL. G7 
 
 had taken refuge, desiring that these horsemen should 
 be given up to him. But the Sigambri will not obey. 
 The Germans seem to have understood that Caesar had 
 Gaul in his hands, to do as he liked with it; but they 
 grudged his interference beyond the Rhine. Caesar, 
 however, always managed to have a set of friends 
 among his enemies, to help him in adjusting his 
 enmities. We have heard of the iEdui in central 
 Gaul, and of the Remi in the north. The Ubii were 
 his German friends, who were probably at this time 
 occupying both banks of the river; and the Ubii ask 
 him just to come over and frighten their neighbours. 
 Caesar resolves upon gratifying them. And as it is not 
 consistent either with his safety or with his dignity to 
 cross the river in boats, he determines to build a bridge. 
 
 Is there a schoolboy in England, or one who has 
 been a schoolboy, at any Caesar-reading school, who 
 does not remember those memorable words, “ Tigna 
 bina sesquipedalia,” with which Caesar begins his 
 graphic account of the building of the bridge ] When 
 the breadth of the river is considered, its rapidity, and 
 the difficulty which there must have been in finding 
 tools and materials for such a construction, in a country 
 so wild and so remote from Roman civilisation, the 
 creation of this bridge fills us with admiration for 
 Caesar’s spirit and capacity. He drove down piles 
 into the bed of the river, two and two, prone against 
 the stream. We could do that now, though hardly as 
 quickly as Caesar did it; but we should want coffer-dams 
 and steam-pumps, patent rammers, and a clerk of the 
 works. He explains to us that he so built the foun- 
 
GS THE WAR IN GAUL.—FOURTH BOOK. 
 
 dations that the very strength of the stream added to 
 their strength and consistency. In ten days the whole 
 thing was done, and the army carried over. Caesar 
 does not tell us at what suffering, or with the loss of 
 how many men. It is the simplicity of everything 
 which is so wonderful in these Commentaries. We 
 have read of works constructed by modern armies, and 
 of works which modern armies could not construct. 
 We remember the road up from Balaclava, and the 
 railway which was sent out from England. We know, 
 too, what are the aids and appliances with which science 
 has furnished us. But yet in no modern warfare do 
 the difficulties seem to have been so light, so little 
 worthy of mention, as they were to Caesar. He made 
 his bridge and took over his army, cavalry and all, in 
 ten days. There must have been difficulty and hard¬ 
 ship, and the drowning, we should fear, of many men; 
 but Caesar says nothing of all this. 
 
 Ambassadors immediately are sent. Erom the mo¬ 
 ment in which the bridge was begun, the Sigambri ran 
 away and hid themselves in the woods. Caesar burns 
 all their villages, cuts down all their corn, and travels 
 down into the country of the Ubii. He comforts them ; 
 and tidings of his approach then reach those terrible 
 Suevi. They make ready for war on a grand scale; 
 but Caesar, reflecting that he had not brought his army 
 over the river for the sake of fighting the Suevi, and 
 telling us that he had already done enough for honour 
 and for the good of the cause, took his army back 
 after eighteen days spent in the journey, and destroyed 
 his bridge. 
 
CJ5SAR INVADES BRITAIN. 
 
 69 
 
 Then comes a passage which makes a Briton vacil¬ 
 late between shame at bis own ancient insignificance, 
 and anger at Caesar’s misapprehension of his ancient 
 character. There were left of the fighting season after 
 Caesar came hack across the Rhine just a few weeks; 
 and what can he do better with them than go over and 
 conquer Britannia? This first record of an invasion 
 upon us comes in at the fag-end of a chapter, and the 
 invasion was made simply to fill up the summer ! No¬ 
 body, Caesar tells us, seemed to know anything about 
 the island; and yet it was the fact that in all his wars 
 with the Gauls, the Gauls were helped by men out of 
 Britain. Before he will face the danger with his army 
 he sends over a trusty messenger, to look about and 
 find out something as to the coasts and harbours. The 
 trusty messenger does not dare to disembark, but comes 
 back and tells Caesar what he has seen from his ship. 
 Caesar, in the mean time, has got together a great fleet 
 somewhere in the Boulogne and Calais country; and, 
 —so he says,—messengers have come to him from 
 Britain, whither rumours of his purpose have already 
 flown, saying that they will submit themselves to the 
 Roman Republic. We may believe just as much of 
 that as we please. But he clearly thinks less of the 
 Boulogne and Calais people than he does even of the 
 Britons, which is a comfort to us. When these peo¬ 
 ple,—then called Morini,—came to him, asking pardon 
 for having dared to oppose him once before, and offer¬ 
 ing any number of hostages, and saying that they had 
 been led on by bad advice, Caesar admitted them into 
 some degree of grace; not wishing, as he tells us, to be 
 
70 THE WAR IN GAUL.—FOURTH ROOK. 
 
 kept rat of Britain by the consideration of such very 
 small affairs. “Nequehas tantularum rerum occupa- 
 tiones sibi Britannise anteponendas judicabat.” We 
 hope that the Boulogne and Calais people understand 
 and appreciate the phrase. Having taken plenty of 
 hostages, he determines to trust the Boulogne and 
 Calais people, and prepares his ships for passing the 
 Channel. He starts nearly at the third watch,—about 
 midnight, we may presume. A portion of his army,— 
 the cavalry,—encounter some little delay, such as has 
 often occurred on the same spot since, even to travel¬ 
 lers without horses. He himself got over to the 
 British coast at about the fourth hour. This, at mid¬ 
 summer, would have been about a quarter past eight. 
 As it was now late in the summer, it may have been 
 nine o’clock in the morning when Csesar found him¬ 
 self under the cliffs of Kent, and saw our armed ances¬ 
 tors standing along all the hills ready to meet him. 
 He stayed at anchor, waiting for his ships, till about 
 two p.m. His cavalry did not get across till four days 
 afterwards. Having given his orders, and found a 
 fitting moment and a fitting spot, Csesar runs his ships 
 up upon the beach. 
 
 Csesar confesses to a good deal of difficulty in getting 
 ashore. When we know how very hard it is to ac¬ 
 complish the same feat, on the same coast, in these 
 days, with all the appliances of modern science to aid 
 us, and, as we must presume, with no real intention 
 on the part of the Cantii, or men of Kent, to oppose 
 our landing, we can quite sympathise with Csesar. 
 The ships were so big that they could not be brought 
 
CMS A R INVADES BRITAIN. 
 
 71 
 
 into very shallow water. The Roman soldiers were 
 compelled to jump into the sea, heavily armed, and 
 there to fight with the waves and with the enemy. 
 But the Britons, having the use of all their limbs, 
 knowing the ground, standing either on the shore or 
 just running into the shallows, made the landing un¬ 
 easy enough. “hTostri,”—our men,—says Caesar, with 
 all these things against them, were not all of them so 
 alert at fighting as was usual with them on dry ground; 
 —at which no one can he surprised. 
 
 Caesar had two kinds of ships — “naves longae,” 
 long ships for carrying soldiers; and “ naves oner- 
 arise,” ships for carrying burdens. The long ships 
 do not seem to have been such ships of war as the 
 Romans generally used in their sea-fights, hut were 
 handier, and more easily worked, than the trans¬ 
 ports. These he laid broadside to the shore, and 
 harassed the poor natives with stones and arrows. 
 Then the eagle-hearer of the tenth legion jumped 
 into the sea, proclaiming that he, at any rate, 
 would do his dut}’’. Unless they wished to see their 
 eagle fall into the hands of the enemy, they must 
 follow him. “ Jump down, he said, my fellow-sol¬ 
 diers, unless you wish to betray your eagle to the 
 enemy. I at least will do my duty to the Republic 
 and to our General. When he had said this with a 
 loud voice, he threw himself out of the ship and 
 advanced the eagle against the enemy.” Seeing and 
 hearing this, the men leaped forth freely, from that 
 ship and from others. As usual, there was some sharp 
 fighting. Pugnatum est ab utrisque acriter.” It is 
 
72 THE WAR IN GAUL.—FOURTH BOOK. 
 
 nearly always the same thing. Csesar throws away 
 none of his glory by underrating his enemy. But 
 at length the Britons fly. “ This thing only was 
 wanting to Caesar’s usual good fortune,”—that he was 
 deficient in cavalry wherewith to ride on in pursuit, 
 and “ take the island ! ” Considering how very short 
 a time he remains in the island, we feel that his com¬ 
 plaint against fortune is hardly well founded. But 
 there is a general surrender, and a claiming of hos¬ 
 tages, and after a few days a sparkle of new hope in 
 the breasts of the Britons. A storm arises, and Caesar’s 
 ships are so knocked about that he does not know how 
 he will get back to Gaul. He is troubled by a very 
 high tide, not understanding the nature of these tides. 
 As he had only intended this for a little tentative 
 trip,—a mere taste of a future war with Britain,—he had 
 brought no large supply of corn with him. He must 
 get back, by hook or by crook. The Britons, seeing 
 how it is with him, think that they can destroy him, 
 and make an attempt to do so. The seventh legion is 
 in great peril, having been sent out to find corn, but 
 is rescued. Certain of his ships,—those which had been 
 most grievously handled by the storm,—he breaks up, 
 in order that he mav mend the others with their mate- 
 rials. When we think how long it takes us to mend 
 ships, having dockyards, and patent slips, and all 
 things ready, this is most marvellous to us. But he 
 does mend his ships,' and while so doing he has a 
 second fight with the Britons, and again repulses them. 
 There is a burning and destroying of everything far 
 and wide, a gathering of ambassadors to Csesar asking 
 
CAESAR INVADES BRITAIN. 
 
 73 
 
 for terms, a demand for hostages,—a double number of 
 hostages now,—whom Caesar desired to have sent over 
 to him to Gaul, because at this time of the year be did 
 not choose to trust them to ships that were unsea¬ 
 worthy; and he himself, with all his army, gets hack 
 into the Boulogne and Calais country. Two trans¬ 
 ports only are missing, which are carried somewhat 
 lower down the coast. There are hut three hundred 
 men in these transports, and these the Morini of those 
 parts threaten to kill unless they will give up their 
 arms. But Caesar sends help, and even these three 
 hundred are saved from disgrace. There is, of course, 
 more burning of houses and laying waste of fields be¬ 
 cause of this little attempt, and then Caesar puts his 
 army into winter quarters. 
 
 What would have been the difference to the world 
 if the Britons, as they surely might have done, had 
 destroyed Caesar and every Roman, and not left even a 
 ship to get back to Gaul 1 In lieu of this Caesar could 
 send news to Rome of these various victories, and have 
 a public thanksgiving decreed,—on this occasion for 
 twenty days. 
 
CHAPTER YT. 
 
 FIFTH BOOK OF 7 HE WAR IN GAUL.—CESAR’S SECOND INVASION 
 OF BRITAIN.—THE GAULS RISE AGAINST HIM.—B.C. 54 . 
 
 On his return out of Britain, Caesar, as usual, went over 
 the Alps to look after his other provinces, and to 
 attend to his business in Italy; hut he was determined 
 to make another raid upon the island. He could not 
 yet assume that he had “ taken it,” and therefore he 
 left minute instructions with his generals as to the 
 building of more ships, and the repair of those which 
 had been so nearly destroyed. He sends to Spain, he 
 tells us, for the things necessary to equip his ships. 
 We never hear of any difficulty about money. We 
 know that he did obtain large grants from Rome for 
 the support of his legions; but no scruple was made 
 in making war maintain war, as far as such mainten¬ 
 ance could be obtained. Caesar personally was in an 
 extremity of debt when he commenced his campaigns. 
 He had borrowed an enormous sum, eight hundred 
 and thirty talents, or something over £200,000, from 
 Crassus,—who was specially the rich Roman of those 
 days,—before he could take charge of his Spanish pro¬ 
 vince. When his wars were over, he returned to Rome 
 
CuESAR'S SECOND INVASION OF BRITAIN. 75 
 
 ■with a great treasure; and indeed during these wars 
 in Gaul he expended large sums in bribing Romans. 
 We may suppose that he found hoards among the 
 barbarians, as Lord Clive did in the East Indies. 
 Clive contented himself with taking some: Caesar 
 probably took all. 
 
 Having given the order about his ships, he settled 
 a little matter in Illyricum, taking care to raise some 
 tribute there also. He allows but a dozen lines for 
 recording this winter work, and then tells us that he 
 hurried back to his army and his ships. His command 
 had been so well obeyed in regard to vessels, that he 
 finds ready, of that special sort which he had ordered 
 with one bank of oars only on each side, as many as 
 six hundred, and twenty-eight of the larger sort. He 
 gives his soldiers very great credit for their exertions, 
 and sends his fleet to the Portus Itius. The exact 
 spot which Caesar called by this name the geographers 
 have not identified, but it is supposed to be between 
 Boulogne and Calais. It may probably have been 
 at Wissant. Having seen that things were thus 
 ready for a second trip into Britain, he turns round 
 and hurries off with four legions and eight hundred 
 cavalry,—an army of 25,000 men,—into the Treves 
 country. There is a quarrel going on there be¬ 
 tween two chieftains which it is well that he should 
 settle,—somewhat as the monkey settled the contest 
 about the oyster. This, however, is a mere nothing of 
 an affair, and he is back again among his ships at the 
 Portus Itius in a page and a half. 
 
 He resolves upon taking five legions of his own 
 
76 
 
 THE WAR IN GAEL.—FIFTH BOOR. 
 
 soldiers into Britain, and two thousand mounted Gauls. 
 He had brought together four thousand of these horse¬ 
 men, collected from all Gaul, their chiefs and nobles, 
 not only as fighting allies, but as hostages that the 
 tribes should not rise in rebellion while his back was 
 turned. These he divides, taking half with him, and 
 leaving half with three legions of his own men, under 
 Labienus, in the Boulogne country, as a base to his 
 army, to look after the provisions, and to see that he 
 be not harassed on his return. There is a little 
 affair, however, with one of the Gaulish chieftains, 
 Dumnorix the Hkluan, who ought to have been 
 his fastest friend. Dumnorix runs away with all the 
 iEduan horsemen. Caesar, however, sends after him 
 and has him killed, and then all things are ready. 
 He starts with altogether more than 800 ships at sun¬ 
 set, and comes over with a gentle south-west wind. He 
 arrives off the coast of Britain at about noon, but can 
 see none of the inhabitants on the cliff. He imagines 
 that they have all fled, frightened by the number of 
 his ships. Caesar establishes his camp, and proceeds 
 that same night about twelve miles into the country, 
 —eleven miles, we may say, as our mile is longer than 
 the Roman,—and there he finds the Britons. There is 
 some fighting, after which Caesar returns and fortifies 
 his camp. Then there comes a storm and knocks his 
 ships about terribly,—although he had found, as he 
 thought, a nice soft place for them. But the tempest 
 is very violent, and they are torn away from their 
 anchors, and thrust upon the shore, and dashed against 
 each other till there is infinite trouble. He is obliged 
 
CAESAR'S SECOND INVASION OF BRITAIN. 77 
 
 to send over to Labienus, telling him to build more 
 ships; and those which are left he drags up over the 
 shore to his camp, in spite of the enormous labour re¬ 
 quired in doing it. He is ten days at this work, night 
 and day, and we may imagine that his soldiers had not 
 an easy time of it. When this has been done, he 
 advances again into the country after the enemy, and 
 finds that Cassivellaunus is in command of the united 
 forces of the different tribes. Cassivellaunus comes 
 from the other side of the. Thames, over in Middlesex or 
 Hertfordshire. The Britons had not hitherto lived very 
 peaceably together, but now they agree that against the 
 Romans they will act in union under Cassivellaunus. 
 
 Caesar’s description of the island is very interesting. 
 The interior is inhabited by natives, — or rather by 
 “ aborigines.” Caesar states this at least as the tra¬ 
 dition of the country. But the maritime parts are 
 held by Belgian immigrants, who, for the most part, 
 have brought with them from the Continent the names 
 of their tribes. The population is great, and the houses, 
 built very like the houses in Gaul, are numerous and 
 very thick together. The Britons have a great deal of 
 cattle. They use money, having either copper coin or 
 iron rings of a great weight. Tin is found in the 
 middle of the island, and, about the coast, iron. 
 But the quantity of iron found is small. Brass they 
 import. They have the same timber as in Gaul,—only 
 they have neither beech nor fir. Hares and chickens 
 and geese they think it wrong to eat; but they keep 
 these animals as pets. The climate, on the whole, is 
 milder than in Gaul. The island is triangular. One 
 
78 
 
 THE WAR IN GAUL.—FIFTH BOOK. 
 
 corner, that of Kent, has an eastern and a southern 
 aspect. This southern side of the island he makes 
 500 miles, exceeding the truth by about 150 miles. 
 Then Coesar becomes a little hazy in his geography,— 
 telling us that the other side, meaning the western 
 line of the triangle, where Ireland lies, verges towards 
 Spain. Ireland, he says, is half the size of Britain, and 
 about the same distance from it that Britain is from 
 Gaul. In the middle of the channel dividing Ireland 
 from Britain there is an island called Mona,—the Isle 
 of Man. There are also some other islands which at 
 midwinter have thirty continuous days of night. Here 
 Caesar becomes not only hazy but mythic. But he 
 explains that he has seen nothing of this himself, 
 although he has ascertained, by scientific measurement, 
 that the nights in Britain are shorter than on the Con¬ 
 tinent. Of course the nights are shorter with us in 
 summer than they are in Italy, and longer in winter. 
 The western coast he makes out to be 700 miles long; 
 in saying which he is nearly 100 miles over the mark. 
 The third side he describes as looking towards the 
 north. He means the eastern coast. This he calls 
 800 miles long, and exaggerates our territories by more 
 than 200 miles. The marvel, however, is that he should 
 be so near the truth. The men of Kent are the most 
 civilised: indeed they are almost as good as Gauls in 
 this respect! What changes does not time make in 
 the comparative merits of countries ! The men in the 
 interior live on flesh and milk, and do not care for corn. 
 They wear skin clothing. They make themselves hor¬ 
 rible with woad, and go about with rery long hair. 
 
CjESAR'S SECOND INVASION OF BRITAIN . 79 
 
 They shave close, except the head and upper lip. 
 Then comes the worst liahit of all;—ten or a dozen 
 men have their wives in common between them. 
 
 We have a very vivid and by no means unflattering 
 account of the singular agility of our ancestors in their 
 mode of fighting from their chariots. “ This,” says 
 Caesar, “ is the nature of their chariot-fighting. They 
 first drive rapidly about the battle-field,—“per omnes 
 partes,”—and throw their darts, and frequently dis¬ 
 order the ranks by the very terror occasioned by the 
 horses and by the noise of the wheels ; and when they 
 have made their way through the bodies of the cavalry, 
 they jump down and fight on foot. Then the charioteers 
 go a little out of the battle, and so place their chariots 
 that they may have a ready mode of returning should 
 their friends be pressed by the number of their enemies. 
 Thus they unite the rapidity of cavalry and the stabil¬ 
 ity of infantry; and so effective do they become by daily 
 use and practice, that they are accustomed to keep their 
 horses, excited as they are, on their legs on steep and 
 precipitous ground, and to manage and turn them very 
 quickly, and to run along the pole and stand upon the 
 yoke,”—by which the horses were held together at the 
 collars,—“ and again with the greatest rapidity to re¬ 
 turn to the chariot.” * All which is very wonderful. 
 
 Of course there is a great deal of fighting, and the 
 
 * All well-instructed modern Britons have learned from the 
 old authorities that the Briton war-chariots were furnished with 
 scythes attached to the axles,—from Pomponius Mela, the Roman 
 geographer, and from Mrs Markham, among others. And Eugene 
 Sue, in his novel translated into English under the name of the 
 1 Rival Races,’ explains how the Bretons on the other side of 
 
80 
 
 THE WAR IN GAUL.—FIFTH BOOK. 
 
 Britons soon learn by experience to avoid general 
 engagements and maintain guerilla actions. Ccesar by 
 degrees makes his way to the Thames, and with great 
 difficulty gets his army over it. He can only do this 
 at one place, and that badly. The site of this ford he 
 does not describe to us. It is supposed to have been 
 near the place which we now know as Sunbury. He 
 does tell us that his men were so deep in the water 
 that their heads only were above the stream. But 
 even thus they were so impetuous in their onslaught, 
 that the Britons would not wait for them on the 
 opposite bank, but ran away. Soon there come 
 unconditional surrender, and hostages, and promises 
 of tribute. Cassivellaunus, who is himself but a 
 usurper, and therefore has many enemies at home, 
 endeavours to make himself secure in a strong place or 
 town, which is supposed to have been on or near the site 
 of our St Albans. Caesar, however, explains that the 
 poor Britons give the name of a town,—“ oppidum,” 
 —to a spot in which they have merely surrounded 
 some thick woods with a ditch and rampart. Caesar, 
 of course, drives them out of their woodland fortress, 
 and then there quickly follows another surrender, more 
 hostages, and the demand for tribute. Caesar leaves 
 his orders behind him, as though to speak were to be 
 obeyed. One Mandubratius, and not Cassivellaunus, 
 
 the water, in the Morbihan, used these scythes ; and how, before 
 a battle with Caesar's legions, the wives of the warriors arranged 
 the straps so that the scythes might be worked from the chariot 
 like oars from a boat. But Caesar says nothing of such scythes, 
 and surely he would have done so had he seen them. The readej 
 must choose between Caesar’s silence and the authority of Pom- 
 ponius Mela, Mrs Markham, and Eugene Sue. 
 
CAESAR'S SECOND INVASION OF BRITAIN. 81 
 
 is to be tlie future king in Middlesex and Hertford¬ 
 shire,—that is, over the Trinobantes who live there. 
 He fixes tlie amount of tribute to be sent annually by 
 the Britons to Rome; and he especially leaves orders 
 that Cassivellaunus shall do no mischief to the young 
 Mandubratius. Then he crosses back into Gaul at two 
 trips,—his ships taking half the army first and coming 
 back for the other half; and he piously observes that 
 though he had lost many ships when they were com¬ 
 paratively empty, hardly one had been destroyed while 
 his soldiers were in them. 
 
 So was ended Caesar’s second and last invasion of 
 Britain. That he had reduced Britain as he had re¬ 
 duced Gaul he certainly could not boast;—though 
 Quintus Cicero had written to his brother to say that 
 Britannia was, — “ confecta,”—finished. Though he 
 had twice landed his army under the white cliffs, and 
 twice taken it away with comparative security, he had 
 on both occasions been made to feel how terribly strong 
 an ally to the Britons was that channel which divided 
 them from the Continent. The reader is made to feel 
 that on both occasions the existence of his army and of 
 himself is in the greatest peril. Caesar’s idea in attack¬ 
 ing Britain was probably rather that of making the 
 Gauls believe that his power could reach even beyond 
 them,—could extend itself all round them, even into 
 distant islands,— than of absolutely establishing the 
 Roman dominion beyond that distant sea. The Bri¬ 
 tons had helped the Gauls in their wars with him, and 
 it was necessary that he should punish any who pre¬ 
 sumed to give such help. Whether the orders which 
 
 a. c. vol. iv. 
 
 F 
 
82 
 
 THE WAR IN GAUL.—FIFTH BOOK. 
 
 he left behind him were obeyed we do not know; 
 blit we may imagine that the tribute exacted was not 
 sent to home with great punctuality. In fact, Caesar 
 invaded the island twice, but did not reduce it. 
 
 On his return to Gaul, nearly at the close of the 
 summer, he found himself obliged to distribute his 
 army about the country because of a great scarcity of 
 provisions. There had been a drought, and the crops 
 had failed. Hitherto he had kept his army together 
 during the winter; now he was obliged to divide his 
 legions, placing one with one tribe, and another with 
 another. A legion and a half he stations under two of 
 his generals, L. Titurius Sabinus, and L. Aurunculeius 
 Cotta, among the Eburones, who live on the banks of the 
 Mouse in the Liege and Namur country,—a very stout 
 people, who are still much averse to the dominion of 
 Rome. In this way he thought he might best get over 
 that difficulty as to the scarcity of provisions ; but yet 
 he so well understood the danger of separating his 
 army, that he is careful to tell us that, with the excep¬ 
 tion of one legion which he had stationed in a very 
 quiet country,—among the Essui, where Alengon now 
 stands,—they were all within a hundred miles of each 
 other. Nevertheless, in spite of this precaution, there 
 now fell upon Caesar the greatest calamity which he 
 had ever yet suffered in war. 
 
 During all these campaigns, the desire of the Gauls 
 to free themselves from the power and the tyranny of 
 Rome never ceased; nor did their intention to do so 
 ever fade away. Caesar must have been to them as a 
 venomous blight, or some evil divinity sent to afflict 
 them for causes which they could not understand. 
 
HATRED OF THE GAULS TOWARDS CJ2SAR. 83 
 
 There were tribes who truckled to him, hut he had no 
 real friends among them. If any Gauls could have 
 loved him, the AEdui should have done so ; hut that 
 Dumnorix, the iEduan, who ran away with the horse¬ 
 men of his trihe when he was wanted to help in the 
 invasion of Britain, had, before he was killed, tried to 
 defend himself, asserting vociferously that he was a 
 free man and belonging to a free state. He had failed 
 to understand that, in being admitted to the alliance 
 of Caesar, he was bound to obey Caesar. Caesar speaks 
 of it all with his godlike simplicity, as though he saw 
 nothing ungodlike in the work he was doing. There 
 was no touch of remorse in him, as he ordered men to. 
 be slaughtered and villages to be burned. He was 
 able to iook at those things as trifles,—as parts of a great 
 whole. He felt no more than does the gentleman who 
 sends the sheep out of his park to be slaughtered at 
 the appointed time. When he seems to be most cruel, 
 it is for the sake of example,— that some politic result 
 may follow,—that Gauls may know, and Italians know 
 also, that they must bow the knee to Caesar. But the 
 heart of the reader is made to bleed as he sees the 
 unavailing struggles of the tribes. One does not spe¬ 
 cially love the AEdui; but Dumnorix protesting that 
 he will not return, that he is a free man, of a free 
 atate, and then being killed, is a man to be loved. 
 Among the Carnutes, where Chartres now stands, 
 Caesar has set up a pet king, one Tasgetius; but when 
 Ca3sar is away in Britain, the Carnutes kill Tasgetius. 
 They will have no pet of Caesar’s. And now the stout 
 Eburones, who have two kings of their cwn over them, 
 Ambiorix andCativolcus, understanding that Caesar’s d if- 
 
84 
 
 THE WAR IN GAUL.—FIFTH BOOK. 
 
 ficultyis tlieir opportunity,attack the Roman camp,with 
 its legion and a half of men under Titurius and Cotta. 
 
 Ambiorix, the chieftain, is very crafty. He persuades 
 the Roman generals to send ambassadors to him, and 
 to these he tells his story. He himself, Ambiorix, loves 
 Caesar beyond all things. Has not Caesar done him great 
 kindnesses? He would not willingly lift a hand 
 against Caesar, but he cannot control his state. The 
 facts, however, are thus; an enormous body of Ger¬ 
 mans has crossed the Rhine, and is hurrying on to 
 destroy that Roman camp; and it certainly will be de¬ 
 stroyed, so great is the number of the Germans. Thus 
 says Ambiorix; and then suggests whether it would 
 not be well that Titurius and Cotta with their nine or 
 ten thousand men,—a mere handful of men against all 
 these Germans who are already over the Rhine;—would 
 it not be well that the Romans should go and join 
 some of their brethren, either the legion that is among 
 the Hervii to the east, under Quintus Cicero, the 
 brother of the great orator—or that other legion which 
 Labienus has, a little to the south, on the borders of 
 the Remi and Treviri ? And in regard to a good turn 
 on his own part, so great is the love and veneration 
 which he, Ambiorix, feels for Caesar, that he is quite 
 ready to see the Romans safe through the territories of 
 the Eburones. He begs Titurius and Cotta to think 
 of this, and to allow him to aid them in their escape 
 while escape is possible. The two Roman generals do 
 think of it. Titurius thinks that it will be well to take 
 the advice of Ambiorix. Cotta, and with him many 
 of the tribunes and centurions of the soldiers, think 
 that they should not stir without Caesar’s orders;— 
 
THE SUCCESS OF AMBIORIX. 
 
 85 
 
 think also that there is nothing baser or more foolish 
 in warfare than to act on advice given by an enemy. 
 Titurius, however, is clear for going, and Cotta, aftei 
 much argument and some invective, gives way. Early 
 or the next morning they all leave their camp, taking 
 with them their baggage, and marching forth as though 
 through a friendly country,—apparently with belief in 
 the proffered friendship of Ambiorix. The Eburones 
 had of course prepared an ambush, and the Roman 
 army is attacked both behind and before, and is thrown 
 into utter confusion. 
 
 The legion, or legion and a half, with its two com¬ 
 manders, is altogether destroyed. Titurius goes out 
 from his ranks to meet Ambiorix, and pray for peace. 
 He is told to throw away his arms, and submitting to 
 the disgrace, casts them down. Then, while Ambiorix 
 is making a long speech, the Roman general is sur¬ 
 rounded and slaughtered. Cotta is killed fighting; 
 as also are more than half the soldiers. The rest get 
 back into the camp at night, and then, despairing of 
 any safety, overwhelmed with disgrace, conscious that 
 there is no place for hope, they destroy themselves. 
 Only a few have escaped during the fighting to tell the 
 tale in the camp of Labienus. 
 
 As a rule the reader’s sympathies are with the Gauls ; 
 but we cannot help feeling a certain regret that a 
 Roman legion should have thus been wiled on to de¬ 
 struction through the weakness of its general. It 
 Titurius could have been made to suffer alone we should 
 bear it better. When we are told how the gallant 
 eagle-bearer, Petrosidius, throws his eagle into the ram¬ 
 part, and then dies fighting before the camp, we wish 
 
80 
 
 THE WAR IN OA UL.--F1FTH BOOK. 
 
 that Amhiorix had been less successful. Of this, how¬ 
 ever, we feel quite certain, that there will come a day, 
 and that soon, in which Caesar will exact punishment. 
 
 Having done so much, Amhiorix and the Eburones 
 do not desist. How, if ever, after so great a disgrace, 
 and with legions still scattered, may Caesar he worsted. 
 Q. Cicero is with his legion among the Uervii, and 
 thither Amhiorix goes. The Hervii are quite ready, 
 and Cicero is attacked in his camp. And here, too, 
 for a long while it goes very badly with the Romans ;— 
 so badly that Cicero is hardly able to hold his ramparts 
 against the attacks made upon them by the barbarians. 
 Red-hot balls of clay and hot arrows are thrown into 
 the camp, and there is a fire. The messengers sent to 
 Caesar for help are slain on the road, and the Romans 
 begin to think that there is hardly a chance for them 
 of escape. Unless Caesar be with them they are not safe. 
 All their power, their prestige, their certainty of con¬ 
 quest, lies in Caesar. Cicero behaves like a prudent 
 and a valiant man ; but unless he had at last succeeded 
 in getting a Gaulish slave to take a letter concealed in 
 a dart to Caesar, the enemy would have destroyed him. 
 
 There is a little episode of two Roman centurions, 
 Pulfius and Varenus, who were always quarrelling as to 
 which, was the better man of the two. Pulfius with 
 much bravado rushes out among the enemy, and 
 Varenus follows him. Pulfius gets into trouble, and 
 Varenus rescues him. Then Varenus is in a difficulty, 
 and Pulfius comes to his assistance. According to all 
 chances of war, both should have been killed ; but 
 both get back safe into the camp ;—and nobody knows 
 from that day to this which was the better man. 
 
THE DANGER OF QUINTUS CICERO. 
 
 87 
 
 Caesar, of course, hastens to the assistance of his lieu¬ 
 tenant, having sent word of his coming by a letter 
 fastened to another dart, which, however, hardly 
 reaches Cicero in time to comfort him before he sees 
 the fires by which the coming legions wasted the 
 country along their line of march. Then there is 
 more fighting. Caesar conquers, and Q. Cicero is rescued 
 from his very disagreeable position. Labienus has 
 also been in difficulty, stationed, as we remember, on 
 the borders of the Treviri. The Treviri were quite 
 as eager to attack him as the Eburones and E T ervii to 
 destroy the legions left in their territories. But before 
 the attack is made, the news of Caesar’s victory, travel¬ 
 ling with wonderful speed, is heard of in those parts, 
 and the Treviri think it best to leave Labienus alone. 
 
 But Caesar has perceived that, although lie has so 
 often boasted that all Gaul was at last at peace, all Gaul 
 is prepared to carry on the war against him. It is 
 during this winter that he seems to realize a conviction 
 that his presence in the country is not popular with the 
 Gauls in general, and that he lias still much to do 
 before he can make them understand that they are not 
 free men, belonging to free states. The opposition to 
 him has become so general that he himself determines 
 to remain in Gaul all the winter; and even after tell¬ 
 ing us of the destruction of Indutioniarus, the chief of 
 the Treviri,by Labienus, he can only boast that—“Caesar 
 had, after that was done, Gaul a little quieter,”—a 
 little more like a subject country bound hand and toot, 
 —than it was before. During this year Caesar’s pro¬ 
 consular power over his provinces was extended for a 
 second period of five years. 
 
CHAPTER YII. 
 
 
 SIXTH BOOK OF THE WAR IN GAUL.—CAESAR PURSUES AMBIORIX. 
 
 —THE MANNERS OF THE GAULS AND OF THE GERMANS ARE 
 
 CONTRASTED.—B. C. 53 . 
 
 CiESAR begins tne next campaign before the winter 
 is over, having, as we have seen, been forced to con¬ 
 tinue the last long after the winter had commenced. 
 The Gauls were learning to unite themselves, and 
 things were becoming very serious with him. One 
 Roman army, with probably ten thousand men, had 
 been absolutely destroyed, with its generals Titurius 
 Sabinus and Aurunculeius Cotta. Another under 
 Quintus Cicero would have suffered the same Tate, 
 but for Caesar’s happy intervention. A third under 
 Labienus had been attached. All Gaul had been 
 under arms, or thinking of arms, in the autumn; and 
 though Caesar had been able to report at the end of the 
 campaign that Gaul,—his Gaul, as he intended that it 
 should be,—was a little quieter, nevertheless he under¬ 
 stood well that he still had his work to do before he 
 could enter upon possession. He had already been the 
 master of eight legions in Gaul, containing 48,000 foot- 
 soldiers, levied on the Italian side of the Alps. He 
 
CAESAR RECRUITS I1IS ARMY. 
 
 89 
 
 had added to this a large body of Gaulish cavalry and 
 light infantry, over and above his eight legions. He 
 had now lost an entire legion and a half, besides 
 the gaps which must have been made in Britain, 
 and by the loss of those who had fallen when attacked 
 under Cicero by the Hervii. But he would show the 
 Gauls that when so treated he could begin again, not 
 only with renewed but with increased force. He would 
 astound them by his display of Roman power, “ think¬ 
 ing that, for the future, it would greatly affect the opin¬ 
 ion of Gaul that the power of Italy should be seen to be 
 so great that, if any reverse in war were suffered, not 
 only could the injury be cured in a short time, but 
 that the loss . could be repaired even by increased 
 forces.” He not only levies fresh troops, but borrows 
 a legion which Pompey commands outside the walls 
 of Rome. He tells us that Pompey yields his legion 
 to the “Republic and to Friendship.” The Triumvi¬ 
 rate was still existing, and Ctesar’s great colleague 
 probably felt that he had no alternative. In this way 
 Caesar not only re-established the legion which had 
 been annihilated, but completes the others, and takes 
 the field with two new legions added to his army. He 
 probably now had as many as eighty thousand men 
 under his command. 
 
 He first makes a raid against our old Iriends the 
 FTervii, who had nearly conquered Cicero before 
 Christmas, and who were already conspiring again 
 with certain German and neighbouring Belgian tribes. 
 The reader will perhaps remember that in the second 
 book this tribe was said to have been so utterly de- 
 
90 
 
 THE WAR IN GA UL.—SIXTH BOOK. 
 
 etroyed that hardly their name remained. That, no 
 doubt, was Csesar’s belief after the great slaughter. 
 There had been, however, enough of them left nearly 
 to destroy Q. Cicero and his legion. Then Caesar goes 
 to Paris,—Lutetia Parisiorum, of which we now hear 
 for the first time,—and, with the help of his friends 
 the HMui and the Pemi, makes a peace with the 
 centre tribes of Gaul, the Senones and Carnutes. 
 Then he resolves upon attacking Ambiorix with all 
 his heart and soul. Ambiorix had destroyed his 
 legion and killed his two generals, and against 
 Ambiorix he must put forth all his force. It is 
 said that when Caesar first heard of that misfortune 
 he swore that he would not cut his hair or shave 
 himself till he was avenged. Put he feels that he 
 must first dispose of those who would naturally be 
 the allies of this much-to-be-persecuted enemy. The 
 Menapii, with whom we may remember that he had 
 never quite settled matters in his former war, and 
 who live on the southern banks of the Meuse not far 
 from the sea, have not even yet sent to him messen¬ 
 gers to ask for peace. He burns their villages, takes 
 their cattle, makes slaves of the men, and then binds 
 them by hostages to have no friendship with Am¬ 
 biorix. In the mean time Labienus utterly defeats the 
 great north-eastern tribe, the Treviri, whom he cun¬ 
 ningly allures into fighting just before they are joined 
 by certain Germans who are coming to aid them. 
 “ Quern Deus vult perdere prius dementat.” These 
 unfortunate Gauls and Germans fall into every trap 
 that is laid for them. The speech which Ca?sar quotes 
 
CAESAR BUILDS A SECOND BRIDGE. 
 
 91 
 
 as having been made by Labienus to his troops on 
 this occasion is memorable. “Now,” says Labienus, 
 “ you have your opportunity. You have got your 
 enemy thoroughly at advantage. That valour which 
 you have so often displayed before the 1 Imperator/ 
 CaBsar, display now under my command. Think that 
 Caesar is present, and that he beholds you.” To have 
 written thus of himself Caesar must have thought of 
 himself as of a god. He tells the story as though 
 it were quite natural that Labienus and the soldiers 
 should so regard him. 
 
 After this battle, in which the Treviri are of course 
 slaughtered, Caesar makes a second bridge over the 
 Rhine, somewhat above the spot at which he had 
 crossed before. He does this, he says, for two reasons, 
 —first, because the Germans had sent assistance to 
 the Hervii; and secondly, lest his gieat enemy Am- 
 biorix should find shelter among the Suevi. Then he 
 suggests that the opportunity is a good one for saying 
 something to his readers of the different manners of 
 Gaul and of Germany. Among the Gauls, in their 
 tribes, their villages, and even in their families, there 
 are ever two factions, so that one should always 
 balance the other, and neither become superior. Caesar 
 so tells us at this particular point of his narrative, 
 because he is anxious to go back and explain how it 
 was that he had taken the part of the iEdui, and hg.d 
 first come into conflict with the Germans, driving 
 Ariovistus back across the Rhine for their sake. In 
 eastern Gaul two tribes had long balanced each other, 
 nach, of course, striving for mastery,—the iEdui and 
 
92 
 
 TEE WAR IN GAUL.—S1XTU BOOK. 
 
 the Sequani. The Sequani had called in the aid of 
 the Germans, and the iEdui had been very hardly 
 treated. In their sufferings they had appealed to 
 Rome, having had former relations of close amity with 
 the Republic. Divitiacus, their chief magistrate,—the 
 brother of Dumnorix who was afterwards killed by 
 Caesar’s order for running away with the ASduan 
 cavalry before the second invasion of Britain,—had 
 lived for a while in Rome, and had enjoyed Roman 
 friendships, that of Cicero among others. There was 
 a good deal of doubt in Rome as to what should be 
 done with these Afdui; but at last, as we know, Caesar 
 decided on taking their part; and we know also how he 
 drove Ariovistus back into Germany, with the loss of 
 his wives and daughters. Thus it came to pass, Caesar 
 tells us, that the AEdui were accounted first of all the 
 Gauls in regard to friendship with Rome; while the 
 Remi, who came to his assistance so readily when the 
 Belgians were in arms against him, were allowed the 
 second place. 
 
 Among the Gauls there are, he says, two classes of 
 men held in honour,—the Druids and the knights ; by 
 which we understand that two professions or modes of 
 life, and two only, were open to the nobility,—the priest¬ 
 hood and the army. All the' common people, Csesar 
 says, are serfs, or little better. They do not hesitate, 
 when oppressed by debt or taxation, or the fear of 
 some powerful enemy, to give themselves into slavery, 
 loving the protection so obtained. The Druids have 
 the chief political authority, and can maintain it by 
 the dreadful power of excommunication. The cxcom- 
 
MANNERS OF THE GAULS. 
 
 93 
 
 municated wretch is an outlaw, beyond the pale of 
 civil rights. Over the Druids is one great Druid, at 
 whose death the place is filled by election among all 
 the Druids, unless there be one so conspicuously first 
 that no ceremony of election is needed. Their most 
 sacred spot for worship is among the Carnutes, in the 
 middle of the country. Their discipline and mys¬ 
 teries came to them from Britain, and when any very 
 knotty point arises they go to Britain to make inquiry. 
 The Druids don’t fight, and pay no taxes. The ambi¬ 
 tion to be a Druid is very great; but then so is the 
 difficulty. Twenty years of tuition is not uncommonly 
 needed ; for everything has to be learned by heart. Of 
 their religious secrets nothing may be written. Their 
 great doctrine is the transmigration of souls ; so that 
 men should believe that the soul never dies, and that 
 death, therefore, or that partial death which we see, 
 need not be feared. They are great also in astronomy, 
 geography, natural history,—and general theology, of 
 course. 
 
 The knights, or nobles, have no resource but to 
 fight. Caesar suggests that before the blessing of his 
 advent they were driven to the disagreeable necessity 
 of fighting yearly with each other. Of all people the 
 Gauls, he says, are the most given to superstition; in 
 so much so, that in all dangers and difficulties they 
 have recourse'to human sacrifices, in which the Druids 
 are their ministers. They burn their victims to 
 appease their deities, and, by preference, will bum 
 thieves and murderers, — the gods loving best such 
 polluted victims,—but, in default of such, will have 
 
94 
 
 THE WAR IN GAUL.—SIXTH BOOK. 
 
 recourse to an immolation of innocents. Then Csesar 
 tells us that among the gods they chiefly worship 
 Mercury, whom they seem to have regarded as the 
 cleverest of the gods; hut they also worship Apollo, 
 Mars, Jove, and Minerva, ascribing to them the attri¬ 
 butes which are allowed them by other nations. How 
 the worship of the Greek and Eoman gods became 
 mingled with the religion of the Druids we are not 
 told, nor does Caesar express surprise that it should 
 have been so. Caesar gives the Eoman names of 
 these gods, but he does not intend us to understand 
 that they were so called by the Gauls, who had their 
 own names for their deities. The trophies of war 
 they devote to Mars, and in many states keep large 
 stores of such consecrated spoils. It is not often 
 that a Gaul will commit the sacrilege of appropri¬ 
 ating to his own use anything thus made sacred; 
 but the punishment of such offence, when it is com¬ 
 mitted, is death by torture. There is the greatest 
 veneration from sons to their fathers. Until the 
 son can bear arms he does not approach his father, 
 or even stand in public in his presence. The hus¬ 
 band’s fortune is made to equal the wife’s dowry, and 
 then the property is common between them. This 
 seems well enough, and the law would suit the views 
 of British wives of the present day. But the next 
 Gaulish custom is not so well worthy of example. 
 Husbands have the power of life and death over their 
 wives and children ; and when any man of mark dies, if 
 there be cause for suspicion, his wives are examined 
 under torture, and if any evil practice be confessed, they 
 
MANNERS OF THE GERMANS. 
 
 95 
 
 are then tortured to death. We learn from this passage 
 that polygamy was allowed among the Gauls. The 
 Gauls have grand funerals. Things which have been 
 dear to the departed are burned at these ceremonies. 
 Animals were thus burned in Ciesar’s time, but in 
 former days slaves also, and dependants who had been 
 specially loved. The best-governed states are very 
 particular in not allowing rumours as to state affairs to 
 be made matter of public discussion. Anything heard 
 is to be told to the magistrate; but there is to be no 
 discussion on public affairs except in the public coum 
 cil. So much we hear of the customs of the Gauls. 
 
 The Germans differ from the Gauls in many things. 
 They know nothing of Druids, nor do they care for 
 sacrifices. They worship only what they see and 
 enjoy,—the sun, and fire, and the moon. They spend 
 their time in hunting and war, and care little for 
 agriculture. They live on milk, cheese, and flesh. 
 They are communists as to the soil, and stay no 
 longer than a year on the same land. These customs 
 they follow lest they should learn to prefer agriculture 
 to war; lest they should grow fond of broad posses¬ 
 sions, so that the rich should oppress the poor; lest 
 they should by too much comfort become afraid of 
 cold and heat; lest the love of money should grow 
 among them, and one man should seek to be higher 
 than another.' From all which it seems that the 
 Germans were not without advanced ideas in political 
 economy. 
 
 It is a great point witn tne Germans to have no 
 near neighbours. For the sake of safety and inde- 
 
96 
 
 THE WAR IN GAUL.—SIXTH BOOK. 
 
 pendence, each tribe loves to have a wide margin. In 
 war the chieftains have power of life and death. In 
 time of peace there are no appointed magistrates, but 
 the chiefs in the cantons declare justice and quell 
 litigation as well as they can. Thieving in a neigh¬ 
 bouring state,—not in his own,—is honourable to a 
 Gc-rman. Expeditions for thieving are formed, which 
 men may join or not as they please ; but woe betide 
 him who, having promised, fails. They are good to 
 travelling strangers. There was a time when the 
 Gauls were better men than the Germans, and could 
 come into Germany and take German land. Even 
 now. says Ctesar, there are Gaulish tribes living in 
 Germany after German fashion. But the nearness of 
 the Province to Gaul has taught the Gauls luxury, and 
 so it has come to pass that the Gauls are not as good 
 in battle as they used to be. It is interesting to 
 gather from all these notices the progress of civilisa¬ 
 tion through the peoples of Europe, and some hint 
 as to what has been thought to be good and bad 
 for humanity by various races before the time of 
 Christ. 
 
 Cmsar then tells us of a great Hercynian forest, 
 beginning from the north of Switzerland and stretch¬ 
 ing away to the Danube. A man in nine days would 
 traverse its breadth; but even in sixty days a man 
 could not get to the end of it lengthwise. "We may 
 presume that the Black Forest was a portion of it. It 
 contains many singular beasts,—bisons with one horn; 
 elks, which are like great stags, but which have no 
 joints in their legs, and cannot lie down,— nor, if 
 
CAESAR PURSUES AMBIORIX. 
 
 97 
 
 knocked down, can they get up,—which sleep leaning 
 against trees; hut the trees sometimes break, and 
 then the elk falls and has a bad time of it. Then 
 there is the urus, almost as big as an elephant, which 
 spares neither man nor beast. It is a great thing to 
 kill a urus, but no one can tame them, even when 
 young. The Germans are fond of mounting the horns 
 of this animal with silver, and using them for drinking- 
 cups. 
 
 Caesar does very little over among the Germans. 
 He comes back, partly destroys his bridge, and starts 
 again in search of Ambiorix. His lieutenant Basilus 
 nearly takes the poor hunted chieftain, but Ambiorix 
 escapes, and Caesar moralises about fortune. Ambi- 
 orix, the reader will remember, was joint-king over 
 the Eburones with one Cativolcus. Cativolcus, who is 
 old, finding how his people are harassed, curses his 
 brother king who has brought these sorrows on the 
 nation, and poisons himself with the juice of yew- 
 tree. 
 
 All the tribes in the Belgic country, Gauls as well 
 as Germans, were now very much harassed. They all 
 had helped, or might have helped, or, if left to them¬ 
 selves, might at some future time give help to Ambi¬ 
 orix and the Eburones. Caesar divides his army, but 
 still goes himself in quest of his victim into the damp, 
 uncomfortable countries near the mouths of the Scheldt 
 and Meuse. Here he is much distracted between his 
 burning desire to extirpate that race of wicked men 
 over whom Ambiorix had been king, and his anxiety 
 lest he should lose more of his own men in the work 
 
 a. o. vol. iv. G 
 
98 
 
 TIIE WAR IN GAUL.—SIXTH BOOK. 
 
 than the wicked race is worth. He invites the neigh¬ 
 bouring Gauls to help him in the work, so that Gauls 
 should perish in those inhospitable regions rather than 
 his own legionaries. This, however, is fixed in his 
 mind, that a tribe which has been guilty of so terrible 
 an offence,—which has destroyed in war an army of 
 his, just as he would have delighted to destroy a 
 Gaulish army,—must be extirpated, so that its very 
 name may cease to exist! “ Pro tali facinore, stirps ac 
 
 nomen civitatis tollatur.” 
 
 Caesar, in dividing his army, had stationed Q. 
 Cicero with one legion and the heavy baggage and 
 spoils of the army, in a fortress exactly at that spot 
 from which Titurius Sabinus had been lured by the 
 craft of Ambiorix. Certain Germans, the Sigambri, 
 having learned that all the property of the Eburones 
 had been given up by Caesar as a prey to any who 
 would take it, had crossed the Rhine that they might 
 thus fill their hands. But.it is suggested to them 
 that they may fill their hands much fuller by attack¬ 
 ing Q. Cicero in his camp; and they do attack him, 
 when the best part of his army is away looking for 
 provisions. That special spot in the territory of the 
 Eburones is again nearly fatal to a Roman legion. 
 But the Germans, not knowing how to press the 
 advantage they gain, return with their spoil across the 
 Rhine, and Caesar again comes up like a god. But he 
 has not as yet destroyed Ambiorix,—who indeed is 
 not taken at last,—and expresses his great disgust and 
 amazement that the coming of these Germans, which 
 was planned with the view of injuring Ambiorix, 
 
AMBIORIX ESCAPES. 
 
 90 
 
 should have done instead so great a service to that 
 monstrously wicked chieftain. 
 
 He does his very best to catch Ambiorix in person, 
 offering great rewards and inducing his men to undergo 
 all manner of hardships in the pursuit. Ambiorix, 
 however, with three or four chosen followers, escapes 
 him. But Csesar is not without revenge. He burns 
 all the villages of the Eburones, and all their houses. 
 He so lays waste the country that even when his army 
 is gone not a soul should be able to live there. After 
 that he probably allowed himself to be shaved. Am¬ 
 biorix is seen here and is seen there, but with hair¬ 
 breadth chances eludes his pursuer. Csesar, having 
 thus failed, returns south, as winter approaches, to 
 Rheims,—Durocortorum; and just telling us in four 
 words how he had one Acco tortured to death because 
 Acco had headed a conspiracy in the middle of Gaul 
 among the Carnutes and Sen ones, and how he out¬ 
 lawed and banished others whom he could not catch, 
 he puts his legions into winter quarters, and again 
 goes back to Italy to hold assizes and look after Ids 
 interests amid the great affairs of the Republic. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 8EVENTH BOOK OF THE WAR IN GAUL. —THE REVOLT 
 OF VERCINGETORIX.—B.C. 52 . 
 
 In opening his account of his seventh campaign Caesar 
 makes almost the only reference to the affairs of Rome 
 which we find in these memoirs. Clodius has been 
 murdered. We know, too, that Crassus had been killed 
 at the head of his army in the east, and that, at the death 
 of Clodius, Pompey had been created Dictator in the 
 city with the name of sole Consul. Caesar, however, 
 only mentions the murder of Clodius, and then goes on 
 to say that the Gauls, knowing how important to him 
 must he the affairs of Rome at this moment, think that 
 he cannot now attend to them, and that, in his absence, 
 they may shake off the Roman yoke. The affairs of 
 Rome must indeed have been important to Caesar, if, 
 as no doubt is true, he had already before liis eyes a 
 settled course of action by which to make himself su¬ 
 preme in the Republic. Clodius, the demagogue, was 
 dead, whom he never could have loved, but whom it 
 had not suited him to treat as an enemy. Crassus, too, 
 was dead, whom, on account of his wealth, Caesar had 
 admitted as a colleague. Pompey, the third triumvir, 
 
THE REVOLT OF VERCINGETORIX. 101 
 
 remained at Rome, and was now sole Consul; Pom. 
 pey who, only twelve months since, had so fondly 
 given up his legion for the sake of the Republic,—and 
 for friendship. Caesar, no doubt, foresaw by this time 
 that the struggle must be at last between himself and 
 Pompey. The very forms of the old republican rule 
 were being turned adrift, and Caesar must have known, 
 as Pompey also knew, and Clodius had known, and 
 even Crassus, that a new power would become para¬ 
 mount in the city. But the hands to wrest such power 
 must be very strong. And the day had not yet quite 
 come. Having spent six summers in subduing Gaul, 
 Caesar would not lose the prestige, the power, the sup- 
 port, which such a territory, really subdued, would give 
 him. Things, doubtless, were important at Rome, but 
 it was still his most politic course to return over the 
 Alps and complete his work. Before the winter was 
 over he heard that the tribes were conspiring, because 
 it was thought that at such an emergency Caesar could 
 not leave Italy. 
 
 This last book of the Commentary, as written by 
 Caesar, tells the story of the gallant Vercingetorix, one 
 of the Arverni,—the modern Auvergne,—whose father, 
 Celtillus, is said to have sought the chieftainship of all 
 Gaul, and to have been killed on that account by his 
 own state. Vercingetorix is certainly the hero of these 
 wars on the Gaulish side, though we hear nothing of 
 him till this seventh campaign. The conspiracy against 
 Rome is afloat, the Carnutes. whose chief town is Gena- 
 bum,—Orleans,—having commenced it. Vercingetorix 
 excites his own countrymen to join, but is expelled from 
 
102 THE WAR IN GAUL.—SEVENTH BOOK. 
 
 their town, Gergovia, for the attempt. The Arverni, oi 
 at least their chief men, fear to oppose the Romans; 
 hut Vercingetorix obtains a crowd of followers out in 
 the country, and perseveres. Men of other tribes come 
 to him, from as far north as Paris, and west from the 
 Ocean. He assumes supreme power, and enacts and 
 carries out most severe laws for his guidance during the 
 war. Por any greater offence he burns the offender 
 alive and subjects him to all kinds of torments. Por 
 any small fault he cuts off a man’s ears, pokes out one 
 of his eyes, and sends him home, that he may be an 
 example visible to all men. By threats of such pun¬ 
 ishment to those who do not join him, and by inflict¬ 
 ing such on those who do and are then untrue to him 
 or lukewarm, he gets together a great army. Caesar, 
 who is still in Italy, hears of all this, and having made 
 things comfortable with Pompey, hurries into the pro¬ 
 vince. He tells us of his great difficulty in joining 
 his arm}' - ,—of the necessity which is incumbent on him 
 of securing even the Roman Province from invasion, 
 and of the manner in which he breaks through snow- 
 clad mountains, the Cevennes, at a time of the year in 
 which such mountains were supposed to be impassable. 
 He is forced into fighting before the winter is over, be¬ 
 cause, unless he does so, the few friends he has in Gaul, 
 —the iEdui, for instance,—will have been gained over 
 by the enemy. This made it very difficult, Caesar tells 
 us, for him to know what to do; but he decides that 
 he must begin his campaign, though it be winter still. 
 
 Caesar, moving his army about with wonderful quick¬ 
 ness, takes three towns in the centre of Gaul, of which 
 
THE FATE OF AVARICUM. 
 
 103 
 
 Genabum, Orleans, is tlie first, and thus provides him¬ 
 self with food. Vercingetorix, when he hears of these 
 losses, greatly troubled in his mind that Caesar should 
 thus be enabled to exist on the provisions gathered by 
 the Gauls, determines to burn all the Gaulish towns in 
 those parts. He tells his people that there is nothing 
 else for them in their present emergency, and that they 
 must remember when they see their hearths smoking 
 and their property destroyed, that it would be, or ought 
 to be, much more grievous for them to know that their 
 wives and children would become slaves, as undoubt¬ 
 edly would be their fate, if Caesar were allowed to pre¬ 
 vail. The order is given. Twenty cities belonging to 
 one tribe are burned to the ground. The same thing 
 is done in other states. But there is one very beauti¬ 
 ful city, the glory of the country round, which can, they 
 say, b6 so easily defended that it will be a comfort 
 rather than a peril to them. Avaricum, the present 
 Bourges,—must that also be burned ? May not Ava¬ 
 ricum be spared? Vercingetorix is all for burning 
 Avaricum as he has burned the others ; but he allows 
 himself to be persuaded, and the city is spared—for the 
 time. 
 
 Caesar, of course, determines to case Avaricum ; but 
 he encounters great difficulties. The cattle have been 
 driven away. There is no corn. Those wretched 
 /Edui do almost nothing for him; and the Boii, who 
 are their neighbours, and who, at the best, are but a 
 poor scanty people, are equally unserviceable. Some 
 days his army is absolutely without food; but yet no 
 word of complaint is heard “ unworthy of the majesty 
 
104 THE WAR IN GAUL.—SEVENTH BOOR. 
 
 and former victories of tlie Boman people.” The sol¬ 
 diers even beg him to continue the siege when he offers 
 to raise it because of the hardships they are enduring. 
 Let them endure anything, they say, but failure! 
 “ Moreover Caesar, when he would accost his legions 
 one by one at their work, and would tell them that he 
 would raise the siege if they could but ill bear their 
 privations, was implored by all of them not to do that. 
 They said that for many years under his command they 
 had so well done their duty that they had undergone no 
 disgrace, had never quitted their ground leaving aught 
 unfinished,”—except the subjugation of Britain they 
 might perhaps have said,—“ that they would be now 
 disgraced if they should raise a siege which had been 
 commenced; that they would rather bear all hardships 
 than not avenge the Boman citizens who had perished 
 at Genabum by the perfidy of the Gauls.” Caesar puts 
 these words into the mouths of his legionaries, and 
 as we read them we believe that such was the existing 
 spirit of the men. Caesar’s soldiers now had learned 
 better than to cry because they were afraid of their 
 enemies. 
 
 Then we hear that Vercingetorix is in trouble with 
 the Gauls. The Gauls, when they see the Bomans so 
 near them, think that they are to be betrayed into 
 Caesar’s hands, and they accuse their .leader. But 
 Vercingetorix makes them a speech, and brings up cer* 
 tain Boman prisoners to give evidence as to the evil 
 condition of the Boman army. Vercingetorix swears 
 that these prisoners are soldiers from the Boman 
 legions, and so settles that little trouble; but Caesar. 
 
THE FATE OF AVARICUM. 
 
 105 
 
 defending liis legionaries, asserts that the merf so 
 used were simply slaves. 
 
 Vercingetorix is in his camp at some little distance 
 from Avarieum, while Caesar is determined to take the 
 city. We have the description of the siege, concise, 
 graphic, and clear. We are told of the nature of the 
 walls; how the Gauls were good at mining and 
 countermining; how they Hung hot pitch and boiling 
 grease on the invaders ; how this was kept up, one 
 Gaul after another stepping on to the body of his 
 dying comrade; how at last they resolved to quit the 
 town and make their way by night to the camp of 
 Vercingetorix, but were stopped by the prayers of their 
 own women, who feared Caesar’s mercies ;—and how at 
 last the city was taken. We cannot but execrate 
 Caesar when he tells us coolly of the result. They 
 were all killed. The old, the women, and the chil¬ 
 dren, perished altogether, slaughtered by the Bomans. 
 Out of forty thousand inhabitants, Caesar says that 
 about eight hundred got safely to Vercingetorix. Of 
 course we doubt the accuracy of Caesar’s figures when 
 he tells us of the numbers of the Gauls ; but we do not 
 doubt that but a few escaped, and that all but a few 
 were slaughtered. When, during the last campaign, 
 the Gauls at Genabum (Orleans) had determined on 
 revolt against Caesar, certain Boman traders—usurers 
 for the most part, who had there established them¬ 
 selves—were killed. Caesar gives this as the cause, and 
 sufficient cause, for the wholesale slaughter of women 
 and children ! One reflects that not otherwise, per- 
 haps, could he have conquered Gaul, and that Gaul 
 
10G THE WAR IN GAEL.—SEVENTH BOOK. 
 
 had to be conquered; but we cannot for tbe moment 
 but abhor the man capable of such work. Yercinget- 
 orix bears his loss bravely. He reminds the Gauls 
 that had they taken his advice the city would have 
 been destroyed by themselves and not defended ; ho 
 tells them that all the states of Gaul are now ready 
 to join him; and he prepares to fortify a camp after 
 the Roman fashion. Hitherto the Gauls have fought 
 either from behind the walls of towns, or out in the 
 open country without other protection than that of 
 the woods and hills. 
 
 Then there is another episode with those unsatisfac¬ 
 tory iEdui. There is a quarrel among them who shall 
 be their chief magistrate,—a certain old man or a cer¬ 
 tain young man,—and they send to Caesar to settle the 
 question. Caesar’s hands are very full; but, as he 
 explains, it is essential to him that his allies shall be 
 kept in due subordinate order. He therefore absolutely 
 goes in person to one of their cities, and decides that 
 the young man shall be the chief magistrate. But, 
 as he seldom does anything for nothing, he begs that 
 ten thousand HMuan infantry and all the iEduan cav¬ 
 alry may be sent to help him against Yercingetorix. 
 The Hklui have no alternative but to comply. Their 
 compliance, however, is not altogether of a friendly 
 nature. The old man who has been put out of the 
 magistracy gets hold of the iEduan general of the 
 forces ; and the Hkluan army takes the field,—to help, 
 not Caesar, but Yercingetorix ! There is a large amount 
 of . lying and treachery among the H£dui, and of course 
 tidings of what is going on are carried to Caesar. Over 
 
THE SIEGE OF GERGOVIA. 
 
 107 
 
 and over again these people deceive him, betray him, 
 and endeavour to injure his cause; hut he always for¬ 
 gives them, or pretends to forgive them. It is his 
 policy to show to the Gauls how great can he the 
 friendship and clemency of Ctesar. If he would have 
 burned the ^dui and spared Bourges we should have 
 liked him better; but then, had he done so, he would 
 not have been Cassar. 
 
 While Caesar is thus troubled with his allies, he has 
 trouble enough also with his enemies. Yercingetorix, 
 with his followers, after that terrible reverse at Avari- 
 cum,—Bourges,—goes into his own country which we 
 know as Auvergne, and there encamps his army on a 
 high hill with a flat top, called Gergovia. All of us 
 who have visited Clermont have probably seen the 
 hill. Yercingetorix makes three camps for his army 
 on the hill, and the Arverni have a town there. The 
 Gaul has so placed himself that there shall be a river 
 not capable of being forded between himself and Caesar. 
 But the Homan general makes a bridge and sets him¬ 
 self down with his legions before Gergovia. The limits 
 of this little work do not admit of any detailed descrip¬ 
 tion of Caesar’s battles ; but perhaps there is none more 
 interesting than this siege. The three Gaidish camps 
 are taken. The women of Gergovia, thinking that 
 their town is taken also, leaning over the walls, implore 
 mercy from the Homans, and beg that they may not 
 be treated as have the women of Avaricum. Certain 
 leading Homan soldiers absolutely climb up into the 
 town. The reader also thinks that Caesar is to prevail, 
 <is he always docs prevail. But he is beaten back, and 
 
108 THE WAR IN GAUL.—SEVENTH BOOR . 
 
 has to give it up. On this occasion the gallant 
 Vercingetorix is the master of the day, and Caesar 
 excuses himself by explaining how it was that his 
 legions were defeated through the rash courage of his 
 own men, and not by bad generalship of his own. 
 And it probably was so. The reader always feels in¬ 
 clined to believe the Commentary, even when he may 
 most dislike Caesar. Caesar again makes his bridge 
 over the river, the Allier, and retires into the territory 
 of his doubtful friends the iEdui. He tells us himself 
 that in that affair he lost 700 men and 46 officers. 
 
 It seems that at this time Caesar with his whole army 
 must have been in great danger of being destroyed by 
 the Gauls. Why Vercingetorix did not follow up his 
 victory and prevent Caesar from escaping over the Allier 
 is not explained. Ho doubt the requirements of war¬ 
 fare were not known to the Gaul as they were to the 
 Roman. As it was, Caesar had enough to do to save 
 his army. The AEdui, of course, turned against him 
 again. All his stores and treasure and baggage were 
 at Hoviodunum,—Nevers,—a town belonging to the 
 iEdui. These are seized by his allies, who destroy all 
 that they cannot carry away, and Caesar’s army is in 
 danger of being starved. Everything has been eaten 
 up where he is, and the Loire, without bridges or fords, 
 was between him and a country where food was to be 
 found. He does cross the river, the iEdui having sup¬ 
 posed that it would be impossible. He finds a spot in 
 which his men can wade across with their shoulders 
 just above the waters. Bad as the spot is for fording, 
 in his great difficulty he makes the attempt and accom¬ 
 plishes it. 
 
THE REVOLT OF THE jEDUI. 
 
 109 
 
 Then there is an account of a battle which Labienus 
 is obliged to fight up near Paris. He has four legions 
 away with him there, and having heard of Caesar’s mis¬ 
 fortune at Gergovia, knows how imperative it is that 
 he should join his chief. He fights his battle and 
 wins it, and Caesar tells the story quite as enthusias¬ 
 tically as though he himself had been the conqueror. 
 When this difficulty is overcome, Labienus comes 
 south and joins his Imperator. 
 
 The Gauls are still determined to drive Caesar out 
 of their country, and with this object call together a 
 great council at Bibracte, which was the chief town 
 of the iEdui. It was afterwards called Augustodu- 
 num, which has passed into the modern name Autun. 
 At this meeting, the iEdui, who, having been for some 
 years past bolstered up by Pome, think themselves 
 the first of all the Gauls, demand that the chief 
 authority in the revolt against Pome,—now that they 
 have revolted,—shall be intrusted to them. An 
 ASduan chief, they think, should be the commander- 
 in-chief in this war against Pome. Who has done so 
 much for the revolt as the Hidui, who have thrown 
 over their friends the Pomans,—now for about the 
 tenth time ? But Vercingetorix is unanimously elected, 
 and the iEduan chiefs are disgusted. Then there is an¬ 
 other battle. Vercingetorix thinks that he is strong 
 enough to attack the enemy as Caesar is going down 
 south towards the Province. Caesar, so says Vercinget- 
 orix, is in fact retreating. And, indeed, it seems that 
 Caesar was retreating. But the Gauls are beaten and 
 fly, losing some three thousand of their men who are 
 slaughtered in the fight. Vercingetorix shuts him- 
 
iio THE WAR IN GAUL.—SEVENTH BOOR. 
 
 self up in a town called Alesia, and Caesar prepares for 
 another siege. 
 
 The taking of Alesia is the last event told in Caesar’s 
 Commentary on the Gallic War, and of all the stories 
 told, it is perhaps the most heartrending. Civilisation 
 was never forwarded in a fashion more terrible than that 
 which prevailed at this siege. Vercingetorix with his 
 whole army is forced into the town, and Caesar sur¬ 
 rounds it with ditches, works, lines, and ramparts, so 
 that no one shall be able to escape from it. Before this 
 is completed, and while there is yet away open of leav¬ 
 ing the town, the Gaulish chief sends out horsemen, 
 who are to go to all the tribes of Gaul, and convene the 
 fighting men to that place, so that by their numbers 
 they may raise the siege and expel the Romans. We 
 find that these horsemen do as they are bidden, and 
 that a great Gaulish conference is held, at which it is 
 decided how many men shall "be sent by each tribe. 
 Vercingetorix has been very touching in his demand 
 that all this shall be done quickly. He has food for 
 the town for thirty days. Probably it may be stretched 
 to last a little longer. Then, if the tribes are not true 
 to him, he and the eighty thousand souls he has with 
 him must perish. The horsemen make good their 
 escape from the town, and Vercingetorix, with his eighty 
 thousand hungry souls around him, prepares to wait. 
 It seems to us, when we think what must have been 
 the Gallia of those days, and when we remember how 
 far thirty days would now be for sufficing for such 
 a purpose, that the difficulties to be overcome were 
 insuperable. But Caesar says that the tribes did send 
 their men, each tribe sending the number demanded, 
 
THE SIEGE OF ALE SI A. 
 
 Ill 
 
 except the Bellovaci, — the men of Beauvais,—who 
 declared that they chose to wage war on their own 
 account; hut even they, out of kindness, lent two 
 thousand men. Caesar explains that even his own 
 best friends among the Gauls,—among whom was 
 one Commius, who had been very useful to him in 
 Britain, and whom he had made king over his own 
 tribe, the Atrebates,—at this conjuncture of affairs 
 felt themselves bound to join the national move¬ 
 ment. This Commius had even begged for the two 
 thousand men of Beauvais. So great, says Caesar, 
 was the united desire of Gaul to recover Gallic liberty, 
 that they were deterred from coming by no memory of 
 benefits or of friendship. Eight thousand horsemen 
 and two hundred and forty thousand footmen assembled 
 themselves in the territories of the iEdui. Alesia was 
 north of the iEdui, amidst the Lingones. This enor¬ 
 mous army chose its generals, and marched off to 
 Alesia to relievo Vercingetorix. 
 
 But the thirty days were past, and more than past, 
 and the men and women in Alesia were starving. No 
 tidings ever had reached Alesia of the progress which 
 was being made in the gathering of their friends. It 
 had come to be very bad with them there. Some were 
 talking of unconditional surrender. Others proposed 
 to cut their way through the Boman lines. Then one 
 Critognatus had a suggestion to make, and Caesar 
 gives us the words of his ’speech. It has been com¬ 
 mon with the Greek and Latin historians to put 
 speeches into the mouths of certain orators, adding 
 the words when the matter has come within either 
 their knowledge .or belief. Caesar does not often 
 
112 TI1E WAR IN OAUL.—SEVENTH BOOK. 
 
 thus risk his credibility; but on this occasion he does 
 so. We have the speech of Critognatus, word for 
 word. Of those who speak of surrender he thinks so 
 meanly that he will not notice them. As to that cut¬ 
 ting a way through the Roman lines, which means 
 death, he is of opinion that to endure misfortune is 
 greater than to die. Many a man can die who cannot 
 bravely live and suffer. Let them endure a little 
 longer. Why doubt the truth and constancy of the 
 tribes 'l Then he makes his suggestion. Let those 
 who can fight, and are thus useful,—eat those who are 
 useless and cannot fight; and thus live till the levies 
 of all Gaul shall have come to their succour! Those 
 who have authority in Alesia cannot quite bring them¬ 
 selves to this, but they do that which is horrible in 
 the next degree. They will turn out of the town all 
 the old, all the weak, and all the women. After that, 
 —if that will not suffice,—then they will begin to eat 
 each other. The town belongs, or did belong, to a 
 people called the Mandubii,—not to Vercingetorix or 
 his tribe; and the Mandubii, with their children and 
 women, are compelled to go out. 
 
 But whither shall they go 1 Caesar has told us that 
 there was a margin of ground between his lines and 
 the city wall,—an enclosed space from which there 
 was no egress except into Caesar’s camp or into the 
 besieged town. Here stand these weak ones,—aged 
 men, women, and children,—and implore Caesar to 
 receive them into his camp, so that they may pass out 
 into the open country. There they stood as suppli¬ 
 cants, on that narrow margin of ground between two 
 armies. Their own friends, having no food for them, 
 
T11E SIEGE OF ALE SI A. 
 
 113 
 
 had expelled them from their own homes. Would 
 Caesar have mercy ? Caesar, with a wave of his hand, 
 declines to have mercy. He tells ns what he himself 
 decides to do in eight words. “At Caesar, depositis 
 in vallo custodiis, recipi proliibebat.” ‘‘But Caesar, 
 having placed guards along the rampart, forbade that 
 they should be received.” We hear no more of them, 
 but we know that they perished! 
 
 The collected forces of Gaul do at last come up 
 to attempt the rescue of Vercingetorix,—and indeed 
 they come in time; were they able by coming to do 
 anything ? They attack Caesar in his camp, and a great 
 battle is fought beneath the eyes of the men in Alesia. 
 But Caesar is very careful that those who now are 
 hemmed up in the town shall not join themselves to 
 the Gauls w r ho had spread over the country all around 
 him. We hear how during the battle Caesar comes up 
 himself, and is known by the colour of his cloak„ We 
 again feel, as we read his account of the fighting, that 
 the Gauls nearly win, and that they ought to win. 
 But at last they are driven headlong in flight,—all the 
 levies of all the tribes. The Romans kill very many: 
 Avere not the labour of killing too much for them, they 
 might kill all. A huge crowd, however, escapes, and 
 the men scatter themselves back into their tribes. 
 
 On the next day Vercingetorix yields himself and 
 the city to Caesar. During the late battle he and his 
 men shut up within the walls have been simply spec¬ 
 tators of the fighting. Caesar is sitting in his lines 
 before his camp ; and there the chieftains, with Ver¬ 
 cingetorix at their head, are brought up to him. Plu- 
 
 A. C. vol. iv. H 
 
114 THE WAR IN GAUL.—SEVENTH BOOK. 
 
 tarch tells us a story of the chieftain riding up before 
 Caesar, to deliver himself, with gilt armour, on a grand 
 horse, caracolling and prancing. We cannot fancy that 
 any horse out of Alesia, could, after the siege, have 
 been fit for such holiday occasion. The horses out of 
 Vercingetorix’s stables had probably been eaten many 
 days since. Then Caesar again forgives the iEdui; but 
 Vercingetorix is taken as a prisoner to Rome, is kept a 
 prisoner for six years, is then led in Caesar’s Triumph, 
 and, after these six years, is destroyed, as a victim 
 needed for Caesar’s glory, — that so honour may be 
 done to Caesar ! Caesar puts his army into winter quar¬ 
 ters, and determines to remain himself in Gaul during 
 the winter. When his account of these things reaches 
 Rome, a “ supplication” of twenty days is decreed in 
 his honour. 
 
 This is the end of Caesar’s Commentary “ De Bello 
 Gallico.” The war was carried on for two years more; 
 and a memoir of Caesar’s doings during those two years, 
 —B.c. 51 and 50,—was written, after Caesar’s manner, 
 by one Aulus Hirtius. There is no pretence on the 
 writer’s part that this was the work of Caesar’s hands, 
 as in a short preface he makes an author’s apology for 
 venturing to continue what Caesar had begun. The 
 most memorable circumstance of Caesar’s warfares told 
 in this record of two campaigns is the taking of TTxel- 
 lodunum, a town in the south-west of Trance, the site 
 of which is not now known. Caesar took the town by 
 cutting off the water, and then horribly mutilated the 
 inhabitants who had dared to defend their own hearths. 
 
TEE COMMENTARY CONTINUED. 
 
 115 
 
 Caesar,” says this historian, “ knowing well that his 
 clemency was acknowledged by all men, and that he need 
 not fear that any punishment inflicted by him would 
 be attributed to the cruelty of his nature, perceiving 
 also that he could never know what might be the end 
 of his policy if such rebellions should continue to break 
 out, thought that other Gauls should be deterred by 
 the fear of punishment.” So he cut of the hands of all 
 
 those who had borne arms at Uxellodunum, and turned 
 
 } 
 
 the maimed wretches adrift upon the world ! And 
 his apologist adds, that he gave them life so that the 
 punishment of these wicked ones,—who had fought 
 for their liberty,—might be the more manifest to the. 
 world at large! This was perhaps the crowning act of 
 Caesar’s cruelty,—defended, as we see, by the character 
 he had achieved for clemency! 
 
 Soon after this Gaul was really subdued, and then 
 we hear the first preparatory notes of the coming 
 civil war. An attempt w T as made at Borne to ruin 
 Caesar in his absence. One of the consuls of the year,— 
 b.c. 51,—endeavoured to deprive him of the remainder 
 of the term of his proconsulship, and to debar him 
 from seeking the suffrages of the people for the consul¬ 
 ship in his absence. Two of his legions are also de¬ 
 manded from him, and are surrendered by him. The 
 order, indeed, is for one legion from him and one from 
 Pompeius ; but he has had with him, as the reader will 
 remember, a legion borrowed from Pompeius ;—and 
 thus in fact Caesar is called upon to give up two legions. 
 And he gives them up,—not being as yet quite ready 
 to pass the Bubicon. 
 
I 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 FIRST BOOK OF THE CIVIL WAR.—CiESAR CROSSES THE RUBI¬ 
 CON.— FOLLOWS POMPEY TO BRUNDUSIUM.— AND CONQUERS 
 AFRANIUS IN SPAIN.—B.C. 49 . 
 
 C. 52 SAR now gives us his history of that civil war in 
 which he and Pompey contended for the mastery over 
 Rome and the Republic. In his first Commentary he had 
 recorded his campaigns in Gaul,—campaigns in which 
 he reduced tribes which were, if not hostile, at any rate 
 foreign, and by his success in which he carried on and 
 maintained the potency, traditions, and purport of the 
 Roman Republic. It was the ambition of the Roman 
 to be master of the known world. In his ideas no 
 more of the world was really known than had become 
 Roman, and any extension to the limits of this world 
 could only be made by the addition of so-called barbar¬ 
 ous tribes to the number of Roman subjects. In reduc¬ 
 ing Gaul, therefore, and in fighting with the Germans, 
 and in going over to Britain, Csesar was doing that which 
 all good Romans wished to see done, and was rivalling 
 in the West the great deeds which Pompey had accom¬ 
 plished for the Republic in the East. In Lhis second 
 Commentary he is forced to deal with a subject which 
 must have been less gratifying to Roman readers. He 
 
CORRUPTION IN ROME . 
 
 117 
 
 relates to us tlie victories which he won with Roman 
 legions over other legions equally Roman, and by which 
 he succeeded in destroying the liberty of the Republic. 
 
 It must he acknowledged on Ctesar’s behalf that 
 in truth liberty had fallen in Rome before Cmsar’s 
 time. Power had produced wealth, and wealth had 
 produced corruption. The tribes of Rome were 
 bought and sold at the various elections, and a few 
 great oligarchs, either of this faction or of that, divided 
 among themselves the places of trust and honour and 
 power, and did so with hands ever open for the grasp 
 ing of public wealth. An honest man with clean 
 hands and a conscience, with scruples and a love of 
 country, became unfitted for public employment. Cato 
 in these days was simply ridiculous; and even 
 Cicero, though he was a trimmer, was too honest for 
 the times. Laws were wrested from their purposes, and 
 the very Tribunes* of the people had become the worst 
 of tyrants. It was necessary, perhaps, that there 
 should he a master;—so at least Caesar thought. He 
 had, no doubt, seen this necessity during all these 
 years of fighting in Gaul, and had resolved that he 
 would not he less than Pirst in the new order of things. 
 So lie crossed the Rubicon. 
 
 The reader of this second Commentary will find it 
 less alluring than the first. There is less in it of ad¬ 
 venture, less of new strange life, and less of that sound, 
 
 * The Tribunes of tlie people were officers elected annually to 
 act on behalf of tlie people as checks on the magistracy of the 
 Republic, and were endowed with vast powers, which they were 
 presumed to use for the protection of liberty. But the office of 
 Tribune had become degraded to party purposes, as had every 
 other office of the state. 
 
118 
 
 THE CIVIL WAR.—FIRST BOOK. 
 
 healthy, joyous feeling which sprang from a thorough 
 conviction on Caesar’s part that in crushing the Gauls 
 he was doing a thoroughly good thing. To us, and 
 our way of thinking, his doings in Gaul were stained 
 with terrible cruelty. To him and to his Romans they 
 were foul with no such stain. How other Roman con¬ 
 querors acted to other conquered peoples we may learn 
 from the fact, that Caesar obtained a character for great 
 mercy by his forbearance in Gaul. He always writes 
 as though he were free from any sting of conscience, 
 as he tells us of the punishments which policy called 
 upon him to inflict. But as he writes of these civil 
 wars, there is an absence of this feeling of perfect self- 
 satisfaction, and at the same time he is much less cruel. 
 Hecatombs of Gauls, whether men or women or chil¬ 
 dren, he could see burned or drowned or starved, mu¬ 
 tilated or tortured, without a shudder. He could give 
 the command for such operations w r ith less remorse 
 than we feel when wo order the destruction of a litter 
 of undesirable puppies. But he could not bring him¬ 
 self to slay Roman legionaries, even in fair fighting, 
 with anything like self-satisfaction. In this he was 
 either soft-hearted or had a more thorough feeling of 
 country than generals' or soldiers who have fought in 
 civil contests since his time have shown. In the Wars 
 of the Roses and in those of Cromwell we recognise no 
 such feeling. The American generals were not so 
 restrained. But Caesar seems to have valued a Roman 
 legionary more than a tribe of Gauls. 
 
 Nevertheless he crossed the Rubicon. We have 
 all heard of this crossing of the Rubicon, hut Caesar 
 wiys nothing about it. The Rubicon was a little 
 
CAESAR CROSSES THE RUBICON. 
 
 119 
 
 river, now almost if not altogether unknown, running 
 into the Adriatic between Ravenna and Ariminum,—• 
 Rimini,—and dividing the provinces of so-called Cis¬ 
 alpine Gaul from the territory under the immediate 
 rule of the magistracy of Rome. Caesar was, so to 
 say, at home north of the Rubicon. He was in his 
 own province, and had all things under his command. 
 Rut he was forbidden by the laws even to enter the 
 territory of Rome proper while in the command of a 
 Roman province ; and therefore, in crossing the Rubi¬ 
 con, he disobeyed the laws, and put himself in opposition 
 to the constituted authorities of the city. It does not 
 appear, however, that very much was thought of this, 
 or that the passage of the river was in truth taken as 
 the special sign of Caesar’s purpose, or as a deed that 
 was irrevocable in its consequences. There are vari¬ 
 ous pretty stories of Caesar’s hesitation as he stood on 
 the brink of the river, doubting whether he would 
 plunge the world into civil war. We are told how a 
 spirit appeared to him and led him across the water 
 with martial music, and how Caesar, declaring that the 
 die was cast, went on and crossed the fatal stream. 
 Rut all this was fable, invented on Caesar’s behalf by 
 Romans who came after Caesar. Caesar’s purpose was, 
 no doubt, well understood when he brought one of 
 his legions down into that corner of his province, but 
 offers to treat with him on friendly terms were made 
 by Pompey and his party after he had established 
 himself on the Roman side of the river. 
 
 When the civil war began, Caesar had still, accord¬ 
 ing to the assignment made to him, two years and a 
 half left of his allotted period of government in the 
 
120 
 
 TIIE CIVIL WAR.—FIRST BOOK. 
 
 three provinces; hut his victories and his power had 
 "been watched with anxious eyes from Pome, and the 
 Senate had attempted to’decree that he should he 
 recalled. Pompey was no longer Caesar’s friend, nor 
 did Caesar expect his friendship Pompey, who had 
 lately played his cards but badly, and must have felt 
 that he had played them badly, had been freed from 
 his bondage to Caesar by the death of Crassus, the 
 third triumvir, by the death of Julia, Caesar’s daugh¬ 
 ter, and by the course of things in Pome. It had 
 been an unnatural alliance arranged by Caesar with 
 the view of clipping his rival’s wings. The fortunes 
 of Pompey had hitherto been so bright, that he also 
 had seemed to be divine. While still a boy, he had 
 commanded and conquered, women had adored him, 
 the soldiers had worshipped him. Sulla had called 
 him the Great; and, as we are told, had raised his 
 hat to him in token of honour. He had been allowed 
 the glory of a Triumph while yet a youth, and had tri¬ 
 umphed a second time before he had reached middle 
 life. He had triumphed again a third time, and the 
 three Triumphs had been won in the three quarters of 
 the globe. In all things he had been successful, and in 
 all things happy. He had driven the swarming pirates 
 from every harbour in the Mediterranean, and had 
 filled Pome with corn. He had returned a conqueror 
 with his legions from the East, and had dared to dis¬ 
 band them, that he might live again as a private citi¬ 
 zen. And after that, when it was thought necessary that 
 the city should be saved, in her need, from the factions 
 of her own citizens, he had been made sole consul. 
 It is easier now to understand the character of Pom- 
 
POMPETS GUAR ACTEP 
 
 121 
 
 pey than the position which, hy nis unvaried suc¬ 
 cesses, he had made for himself in the minds both of 
 the nobles and of the people. Even up to this time, 
 even after Caesar’s wars in Gaul, there was something 
 of divinity hanging about Pompey, in which the 
 Romans of the city trusted. He had been imperious, 
 but calm in manner and self-possessed,—allowing no 
 one to be his equal, but not impatient in making 
 good his claims; grand, handsome, lavish when policy 
 required it, rapacious when much was needed, never 
 self-indulgent, heartless, false, cruel, politic, ambitious, 
 very brave, and a Roman to the backbone. But ho 
 had this failing, this weakness;—when the time for 
 the last struggle came, he did not quite know what 
 it was that he desired to do; he did not clearly see 
 his future. The things to be done were so great, that 
 he had not ceased to doubt concerning them when the 
 moment came in which doubt was fatal. Caesar saw 
 it all, and never doubted. That little tale of Caesar 
 standing on the bridge over the Rubicon pondering as 
 to his future course,—divided between obedience and 
 rebellion,—is very pretty. But there was no such 
 pondering, and no such division. Caesar knew verj 
 well what he meant and what he wanted. 
 
 Caesar is full of his wrongs as he begins his second 
 narrative. He tells us how his own friends are 
 silenced in the Senate and in the city; how his ene¬ 
 mies, Scipio, Cato, and Lentulus the consul, prevail: 
 how no one is allowed to say a word for him. “ Pom¬ 
 pey himself,” he says, “ urged on by the enemies of 
 Caesar, and because he was unwilling that any one 
 should equal himself in honour, had turned himself 
 
122 
 
 THE CIVIL WA R.—FIRST BOOK. 
 
 altogether from Caesar’s friendship, and had gone back 
 to the fellowship of their common enemies,—enemiea 
 whom he himself had created for Caesar during the 
 time of their alliance. At the same time, conscious of 
 the scandal of those two legions which he had stopped 
 on their destined road to Asia and Syria and taken into 
 his own hand, he was anxious that the question should 
 be referred to arms.” Those two legions are very griev¬ 
 ous to Caesar. One was the legion which, as we re¬ 
 member, Pompey had given up to friendship,—and the 
 Republic. When, in the beginning of these contests 
 between the two rivals, the Senate had decided on 
 weakening each by demanding from each a legion, 
 Pompey had asked Caesar for the restitution of that 
 which he had so kindly lent. Caesar, too proud to 
 refuse payment of the debt, had sent that to his 
 former friend, and had also sent another legion, as de¬ 
 manded, to the Senate. They were required nominally 
 for service in the East, and now were in the hands 
 of him who had been Caesar’s friend but had become 
 his enemy. It is no wonder that Caesar talks of the 
 infamy or scandal of the two legions ! He repeats 
 his complaint as to the two legions again and again. 
 
 In the month of January Caesar was at Ravenna, 
 just north of the Rubicon, and in his own province. 
 Messages pass between him and the Senate, and he 
 proposes his terms. The Senate also proposes its terms. 
 He must lay down his arms', or he will be esteemed an 
 enemy by the Republic. All Rome is disturbed. The 
 account is Caesar’s account, but we imagine that Rome 
 was disturbed. “Soldiers are recruited over all Italy; 
 arms are demanded, taxes are levied on the municipal- 
 
THE RUBICON IS PASSED. 
 
 123 
 
 ities, and money is taken from the sacred shrines; all 
 laws divine and human are disregarded.” Then Caesar 
 explains to his soldiers his wrongs, and the crimes of 
 Pompey. He tells them how they, under his guid¬ 
 ance, have been victorious, liow under him they have 
 “ pacified ah Gaul and German y, and he calls upon 
 them to defend him who has enabled them to do such 
 great things. He has but one legion with him, but 
 that legion declares that it will obey him,—him and 
 the tribunes of the people, some of whom, acting on 
 Caesar’s side, have come over from Pome to Ravenna. 
 We can appreciate the spirit of this allusion to the 
 tribunes, so that there may seem to be still some link 
 between Caesar and the civic authorities. When the 
 soldiers have expressed their goodwill, he goes to 
 Ariminum, and so the Rubicon is passed. 
 
 There are still more messages. Caesar expresses 
 himself as greatly grieved that he should be subjected 
 to so much suspense, nevertheless he is willing to suffer 
 anything for the Republic;—“omnia pati reipublicae 
 causa.” Only let Pompey go to his province, let the 
 legions in and about Rome be disbanded, let all the 
 old forms of free government be restored, and panic 
 be abolished, and then,—when that is done,—all diffi¬ 
 culties may be settled in a few minutes’ talking. The 
 consuls and Pompey send back word that if Caesar 
 will go back into Gaul and dismiss his army, Pompey 
 shall go at once to Spain. But Pompey and the 
 consuls with their troops will not stir till Caesar shall 
 have given security for his departure. Each demands 
 that the other shall first abandon his position. Of 
 course all these messages mean nothing. 
 
124 
 
 TEE CIVIL WAR.—FIRST BOOK. 
 
 Caesar, complaining bitterly of injustice, sends a por- 
 tion of Inis small army still farther into the Roman 
 territory. Marc Antony goes to Arezzo with five 
 cohorts, and Caesar occupies three other cities with, a 
 cohort each. The marvel is that he was not attacked 
 and driven back by Pompey. We may probably con¬ 
 clude that the soldiers, though under the command 
 of Pompey, were not trustworthy as against Caesar. 
 As Caesar regrets his two legions, so no doubt do the 
 two legions regret their commander. At any rate, the 
 consular forces with Pompey and the consuls and a 
 host of senators retreat southwards to Brundusium,— 
 Brindisi,—intending to leave Italy by the port which 
 we shall all use before long when we go eastwards. 
 During this retreat, the first blood in the civil war is 
 spilt at Corfinium, a town which, if it now stood at all, 
 would stand in the Abruzzi. Caesar there is victor 
 in a small engagement, and obtains possession of the 
 town. The Pompeian officers whom he finds there he 
 sends away, and allows them even to carry with them 
 money which he believes to have been taken from the 
 public treasury. Throughout his route southward the 
 soldiers of Pompey,—who had heretofore been his 
 soldiers,—return to him. Pompey and the consuls 
 still retreat, and still Caesar follows them, though 
 Pompey had boasted, when first warned to beware of 
 Caesar, that he had only to stamp upon Italian soil and 
 legions would arise from the earth ready to obey him. 
 He knows, however, that away from Rome, in her 
 provinces, in Macedonia and Achaia, in Asia and Cilicia, 
 in Sicily', Sardinia, and Africa, in Mauritania and the 
 two Spains, there are Roman legions which as yet 
 
POM FEY RETREATS ,. 
 
 125 
 
 kn )w no Caesar. It may be better for Pompey that 
 he should stamp his foot somewhere out of Italy. At 
 any rate he sends the obedient consuls and his attend¬ 
 ant senators over to Dyrracliium in Illyria with a part 
 of his army, and follows with the remainder as soon as 
 Caesar is at his heels. Caesar makes an effort to inter¬ 
 cept him and his fleet, but in that he fails. Thus 
 Pompey deserts Pome and Italy,—and never again 
 sees the imperial city or the fair land. 
 
 Caesar explains to us why he does not follow his 
 enemy and endeavour at once to put an end to the 
 struggle. Pompey is provided with shipping and he 
 is not; and he is aware that the force of Pome lies in 
 her provinces. Moreover, Pome may be starved by 
 Pompey, unless he, Caesar, can take care that the corn¬ 
 growing countries, which are the granaries of Pome, 
 are left free for the use of the city. He must make 
 sure of the two Gauls, and of Sardinia, and of Sicily, 
 of Africa too, if it may be possible. lie must win to 
 his cause the two Spains, of which at least the north¬ 
 ern province was at present devoted to Pompey. He 
 sends one lieutenant to Sardinia with a legion, another 
 to Sicily with three legions,—and from Sicily over 
 into Africa. These provinces had been allotted to 
 partisans of Pompey; but Caesar is successful with 
 them all. To Cato, the virtuous man, had been as¬ 
 signed the government of Sicily; but Cato finds no 
 Pompeian army ready for his use, and, complaining 
 bitterly that he has been deceived and betrayed by the 
 head ,of his faction, runs away, and leaves his province 
 to Caesar’s officers. Caesar determines that he himself 
 will carry the war into Spain. 
 
126 
 
 TI1E CIVIL WAR.—FIRST BOOK. 
 
 But he found it necessary first to go to Borne, and 
 Caesar, in his account of what he did there, hardly tells 
 us the whole truth. We quite go along with him 
 when he explains to us that, having collected what 
 sort of a Senate he could,—for Pompey had taken away 
 with him such senators as he could induce to follow 
 him,—and having proposed to this meagre Senate that 
 ambassadors should be sent to Pompey, the Senate 
 accepted his suggestion ) but that nobody could be in¬ 
 duced to go on such an errand. Pompey had already 
 declared that all who remained at Borne were his ene¬ 
 mies. And it may probably be true that Caesar, as he 
 says, found a certain tribune of the people at Borne 
 who opposed him in all that he was doing, though we 
 should imagine that the opposition was not violent. 
 But his real object in going to Borne was to lay hand 
 on the treasure of the Bepublic,—the sanctius serari- 
 um,—which was kept in the temple of Saturn for special 
 emergencies of State. That he should have taken this 
 we do not wonder ;—but we do wonder that he should 
 have taken the trouble to say that he did not do so. 
 He professes that he was so hindered by that vexatious 
 tribune, that he could not accomplish the purposes for 
 which he had come. But he certainly did take the 
 money, and we cannot doubt but that he went to Borne 
 especially to get it. 
 
 Caesar, on his way to Spain, goes to Marseilles, 
 which, under the name of Massilia, was at this time, 
 as it is now, the most thriving mercantile port on the 
 Mediterranean. It belonged to the province of Further 
 Gaul, but it was in fact a colony of Greek traders. Its 
 possession was now necessary to Caesar. The magia- 
 
CAESAR TOUCHES AT MARSEILLES. 127 
 
 trates of the town, when called upon for their adhesion, 
 gave a most sensible answer. They protest that they 
 are very fond of Caesar, and very fond of Pompey. They 
 don’t understand all these affairs of Pome, and regret 
 that two such excellent men should quarrel. In the mean 
 time they prefer to hold their own town. Caesar speaks 
 of this decision as an injury to himself, and is instigated 
 by such wrongs against him to besiege the city, which 
 he does both by land and sea, leaving officers there for 
 the purpose, and going on himself to Spain. 
 
 At this time all Spain was held by three officers, de¬ 
 voted to the cause of Pompey, though, from what has 
 gone before, it is clear that Caesar fears nothing from 
 the south. Afranius commanded in the north and east, 
 holding the southern spurs of the Pyrenees. Petreius, 
 who was stationed in Lusitania, in the south-west, 
 according to agreement, hurries up to the assistance of 
 Afranius as soon as Caesar approaches. The Pompeian 
 and Caesarian armies are brought into close quarters in 
 the neighbourhood of Ilerda (Lerida), on the little river 
 Sicoris, or Segre, which runs into the Ebro. They are 
 near the mountains here, and the nature of the fight¬ 
 ing is controlled by the rapidity and size of the rivers, 
 and the inequality of the ground. Caesar describes 
 the campaign with great minuteness, imparting to it 
 a wonderful interest by the clearness of his narrative. 
 Afranius and Petreius hold the town of Ilerda, which 
 is full of provisions. Caesar is very much pressed by 
 want, as the corn and grass have not yet grown, and 
 the country supplies of the former year are almost ex- 
 hausted. So great are his difficulties, that tidings reach 
 Rome that Afranius has conquered him. Hearing 
 
128 
 
 THE CIVIL WAR.—FIRST BOOK. 
 
 this, many who were still clinging to the city, doubtful 
 as to the side they would take, go away to Pompey. 
 But Caesar at last manages to make Ilerda too hot for 
 the Pompeian generals. He takes his army over one 
 liver in coracles, such as he had seen in Britain ; he 
 turns the course of another ; fords a third, breaking the 
 course of the stream by the bulk of his horses ; and 
 bridges a fourth. Afranius and Petreius find that 
 they must leave Ilerda, and escape over the Ebro 
 among the half-barbarous tribe further south, and make 
 theh* way, if possible, among the Celtibri,—getting 
 out of Aragon into Castile, as the division was made 
 in after-ages. Caesar giyes us as one reason for this 
 intended march on the part of his enemies, that Pompey 
 was well known by those tribes, but that the name 
 of Caesar was a name as yet obscure to the barbarians. 
 It was not, however, easy for Afranius to pass over the 
 Ebro without Caesar’s leave, and Caesar will by no means 
 give him leave. He intercepts the Pompeians, and now 
 turns upon them that terrible engine of want from which 
 he had suffered so much. He continues so to drive them 
 about, still north of the Ebro, that they can get at no 
 water; and at last they are compelled to surrender. 
 
 During the latter days of this contest the Afranians, 
 as they are called— Roman legionaries, as are the soldiers 
 of Caesar—fraternise with their brethren in Caesar’s 
 camp, and there is something of free intercourse be¬ 
 tween the two Roman armies. The upshot is that the 
 soldiers of Afranius resolve to give themselves up to 
 Caesar, bargaining, however, that their own generals 
 shall be secure. Afranius is willing enough; but hin 
 
CjESAR IN TIIE NORTH OF SPAIN. 129 
 
 brother-general, Petreius, with more of the Eoman at 
 heart, will not hear of it. We shall hear hereafter the 
 strange fate of this Petreius. He stops the conspiracy 
 with energy, and forces from his own men, and even from 
 Afranius, an oath against surrender. He orders that all 
 Caesar’s soldiers found in their camp shall he killed, and, 
 as Caesar tells us, brings back the affair to the old form 
 of war. But it is all of no avail. The Afranians are so 
 driven by the want of water, that the two generals are at 
 last compelled to capitulate and lay down their arms. 
 
 Five words which are used by Caesar in the descrip¬ 
 tion of this affair give us a strong instance of his con¬ 
 ciseness in the use of words, and of the capability for 
 conciseness which the Latin language affords. “Pre- 
 mebantur Afraniani pabulatione, aquabantur aegre.” 
 “ The soldiers of Afranius were much distressed in the 
 matter of forage, and could obtain water only with great 
 difficulty.” These twenty words translate those five 
 which Caesar uses, perhaps with fair accuracy; but many 
 more than twenty would probably have been used by 
 any English historian in dealing with the same facts. 
 
 Caesar treats his compatriots with the utmost gene¬ 
 rosity. So many conquered Gauls he would have sold 
 as slaves, slaughtering their leaders, or he would have 
 cut off their hands, or have driven them down upon 
 the river and have allowed them to perish in the 
 waters. But his conquered foes are Eoman soldiers, 
 and he simply demands that the army of Afranius 
 shall be disbanded, and that the leaders of it shall go, 
 —whither they please. He makes them a speech in 
 which he explains how badly they have treated him. 
 
 a. c. vol. iv. i 
 
130 
 
 THE CIVIL WAR.—FIRST BOOK. 
 
 Nevertheless he will hurt no one. He has home it 
 all, and will bear it, patiently. Let the generals only 
 leave the Province, and let the army which they have 
 led be disbanded. He will not keep a soldier who 
 does not wish to stay with him, and will even pay 
 those whom Afranius has been unable to pay out of 
 his own funds. Those who have houses and land in 
 Spain may remain there. Those Avho have none he 
 will first feed and afterwards take back, if not to Italy, 
 at any rate to the borders of Italy. The property 
 which his own soldiers have taken from them in the 
 chances of war shall be restored, and he out of his own 
 pocket will compensate his own men. lie performs 
 his promise, and takes all those who do not choose to 
 remain, to the banks of the Yar, which divides the Pro¬ 
 vince from Italy, and there sets them down, full, no 
 doubt, of gratitude to their conqueror. Never was 
 there such clemency,—or, we may say, better policy ! 
 Caesar’s whole campaign in Spain had occupied him 
 only forty days. 
 
 In the mean time Decimus Brutus, to whom we 
 remember that Caesar had given the command of the 
 ships which he prepared against the Veneti in the west 
 of Gaul, and who was hereafter to be one of those who 
 slew him in the Capitol, obtains a naval victory over 
 the much more numerous fleet of the Massilians. 
 They had prepared seventeen big ships,—“ naves 
 longae ” they are called by Caesar,—and of these 
 Brutus either destroys or takes nine. In his next 
 book Caesar proceeds to tell us how things went on at 
 Marseilles both by sea and land after this affair. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 SECOND BOOK OF THE CIVIL WAR.—THE TAKINS OF MAR¬ 
 SEILLES.—VARRO IN THE SOUTH OF SPAIN.—THE FATE 
 OF CURIO BEFORE UTICA.—B.C. 49 . 
 
 In his chronicle of the Gallic war, Caesar in each hook 
 completed the narrative of a year’s campaign. In 
 treating of the civil war he devotes the first and 
 second hooks to the doings of one year. There are 
 three distinct episodes of the year’s campaign narrated 
 in the second;—the taking of Marseilles, the subju¬ 
 gation of the southern province of Spain,—if that can 
 be said to he subjugated which gave itself up very 
 readily,—and the destruction of a Roman army in 
 Africa under the hands of a barbarian king. Rut of 
 all Caesar’s writings it is perhaps the least interesting, 
 as it tells us but little of what Caesar did himself,— 
 and in fact contains chiefly Caesar’s records of the 
 doings of his lieutenants by sea and land. 
 
 He begins by telling us of the enormous exertion} 
 made both by the besiegers and by the besieged at Mas* 
 silia, which town was now held by Domitius on the 
 part of Pompey,—to supplement whom at sea a cer¬ 
 tain Nasidius was sent with a large fleet. Young 
 
132 
 
 TEE CIVIL WAR.—SECOND BOOR. 
 
 Brutus, as will be remembered, was attacking the har¬ 
 bour on behalf of Caesar, and had already obtained a 
 victory over the Massilians before Nasidius came up ; 
 and Trebonius, also on the part of Caesar, was besieg¬ 
 ing the town from the land. This Decimus Brutus 
 was one of those conspirators who afterwards conspired 
 against Caesar and slew him, — and Trebonius was 
 another of the number. The wise Greeks of the 
 city,—more wise than fortunate, however,—had ex¬ 
 plained to Caesar when he first expressed his wish to 
 have the town on his side, that really to them there 
 was no difference between Pompey and Caesar, both of 
 whom they loved with all their hearts,—but they had 
 been compelled to become partisans of Pompey, the 
 ^Pompeian general Domitius being the first to enter 
 their town; and now they find themselves obliged to 
 fight as Pompeians in defence of their wealth and their 
 homes. Thus driven by necessity, they fight well and do 
 their very best to favour the side which we must hence¬ 
 forward call that of the Pepublic as against an autocrat; 
 —for, during this siege of Marseilles, Caesar had been 
 appointed Dictator, and a law to that effect had been 
 passed at Pome, where the passing of such a law was no 
 doubt easy enough in the absence of Pompey, of the con 
 suls, and of all the senators who were Pompey’s friends. 
 
 The Massilians had now chosen their side, and they 
 do their very best. We are told that the Caesarean 
 troops, from the high ground on which Trebonius had 
 placed his camp, could look down into the town, and 
 could see “ how all the youth who had been left in the 
 city, and all the elders with their cliildren and wives, 
 
THE SIEGE OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 133 
 
 and the sentinels of the city, either stretched their 
 hands to heaven from the walls, or, entering the 
 temples of the immortal gods, and throwing themselves 
 before their sacred images, prayed that the heavenly 
 powers would give them victory. Nor was there one 
 among them who did not believe that on the result 
 of that day depended all that they had,”—namely, 
 liberty, property, and life; for the Massilians, doubt¬ 
 less, had heard of Avaricum, of Alesia, and of Uxello- 
 dunum. “ When the battle was begun,” says Caesar, 
 “ the Massilians failed not at all in valour; but, 
 mindful of the lessons they had just received from their 
 townsmen, fought with the belief that the present was 
 their only opportunity of doing aught for their own pre¬ 
 servation ; and that to those who should fall in battle, 
 loss of life would only come a little sooner than to the 
 others, who would have to undergo the same fate, 
 should the city be taken.” Caesar, as he wrote this, 
 doubtless thought of what he had done in Gaul when 
 policy demanded from him an extremity of cruelty; and, 
 so writing, he enhanced the clemency with which, as he 
 is about to tell us, he afterwards treated the Massilians. 
 When the time came it did not suit him to depopulate 
 a rich town, the trade of whose merchants was benefi¬ 
 cial both to Rome and to the Province. He is about 
 to tell us of his mercy, and therefore explains to us 
 beforehand how little was mercy expected from him. 
 We feel that every line lie writes is weighed, though 
 the time for such weighing must havePeen very short 
 with one whose hands were so full as were always the 
 hands of Caesar. 
 
134 
 
 THE CIVIL WAR.— SECOND BOOK . 
 
 Nasidius, whom we may call Pompey’s admiral, 
 was of no use at all. The Massilians, tempted by his 
 coming, attack bravely the ship which bears the flag 
 of young Brutus ; but young Brutus is too quick for 
 them, and the unhappy Massilians run two of their 
 biggest vessels against each other in their endeavour 
 to pin that of the Caesarean admiral between them. 
 The Massilian fleet is utterly dispersed. Five are 
 sunk, four are taken : one gets off with bTasidius, who 
 runs away, making no effort to fight : who has been 
 sent there,—so Caesar hints,—by Pompey, not to give 
 assistance, but only to pretend to give assistance. 
 One ship gets back into the harbour with the sad 
 tidings ; and the Massilians—despairing only for a 
 moment at the first blush of the bad news—determine 
 that their walls may still be defended. 
 
 The town was very well supplied with such things 
 as were needed for defence, the people being a provi¬ 
 dent people, well instructed and civilised, with means 
 at their command. We are told of great poles twelve 
 feet long, with sharp iron heads to them, which the 
 besiegers could throw with such force from the engines 
 on their walls as to drive them through four tiers of 
 the wicker crates or stationary shields which the Caesa- 
 reans built up for their protection,—believing that no 
 force could drive a weapon through them. As we 
 read of this we cannot but think of Armstrong and 
 Whitfield guns, and iron plates, and granite batteries, 
 and earthworks. These terrible darts, thrown from 
 “ balistae,” are very sore upon the Caesareans; they 
 therefore contrive an immense tower, so high that it 
 
THE SIEGE OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 135 
 
 cannot be reached by any weapon, so built that no 
 wood or material subject to fire shall be on the out¬ 
 side,—which they erect story by story, of very great 
 strength. And as they raise this step by step, each 
 story is secured against fire and against the enemy. 
 The reader,—probably not an engineer himself,—is 
 disposed to think as he struggles through this minute 
 description of tire erection which Caesar gives, and 
 endeavours to realise the 'way in which it is done, that 
 Caesar must himself have served specially as an engineer. 
 But in truth he was not at this siege himself, and had 
 nothing to do with the planning of the tower, and 
 must in this instance at least have got a written de¬ 
 scription from his officer,—as he probably did before 
 when he built the memorable bridge over the Rhine. 
 And when the tower is finished, they make a long 
 covered way or shed,—musculum or muscle Caesar calls 
 it; and with this they form for themselves a passage 
 from the big tower to a special point in the walls of 
 the town. This muscle is so strong with its sloping 
 roof that nothing thrown upon it will break or burn it. 
 The Massilians try tubs of flaming pitch, and great frag¬ 
 ments of rock; but these simply slip to the ground, and 
 are pulled away with long poles and forks. And the 
 Caesareans, from the height of their great tower, have 
 eo terrible an advantage ! The Massilians cannot de¬ 
 fend their wall, and a breach is made, or almost made. 
 
 The Massilians can do no more. The very gods are 
 against them. So they put on the habit of supplicants, 
 and go forth to the conquerors. They will give their 
 city to Caesar. Caisar is expected. Will Trebonius 
 
136 
 
 THE CIVIL WAR.—SECOND BOOK. 
 
 be so good as to wait till Ccesar comes ? If Trebonius 
 should proceed with his work so that the soldiers 
 should absolutely get into the town, then ;—Trebonius 
 knows very well what would happen then. A little 
 delay cannot hurt. Nothing shall be done till Ccesar 
 conies. As it happens, Caesar has already especially 
 ordered that the city shall be spared; and a kind of 
 truce is made, to endure till Caesar shall come and 
 take possession. Trebonius has a difficulty in keeping 
 his soldiers from the plunder ; but he does restrain 
 them, and besiegers and. besieged are at rest, and wait 
 for Caesar. 
 
 But these Massilians are a crafty people. The 
 Caesarean soldiers, having agreed to wait, take it 
 easily, and simply amuse themselves in these days of 
 waiting. When they are quite off their guard, and a 
 high wind favours the scheme, the Massilians rush out 
 and succeed in burning the tower, and the muscle, and 
 the rampart, and the sheds, and all the implements. 
 Even though the tower was built with brick, it burns 
 freely,—so great is the wind. Then Trebonius goes to 
 work, and does it all again. Because there is no more 
 wood left round about the camp, he makes a rampart 
 of a new kind,—hitherto unheard of,—with bricks. 
 Doubtless the Caesarean soldiers had first to make the 
 bricks, and we can imagine what were their feelings in 
 reference to the Massilians. But however that may 
 be, they work so well and so hard that the Massilians 
 soon see that their late success is of no avail. Nothing 
 is left to them. Neither perfidy nor valour can avail 
 them, and now again they give themselves up. They 
 
THE SIEGE OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 137 
 
 are starved and suffering from pestilence, tlieir fortifi¬ 
 cations are destroyed, they have no hope of aid from 
 without,—and now they give themselves up,—intend¬ 
 ing no fraud. “Sese dedere sine fraude constituent.” 
 Pomitius, the Pompeian general, manages to escape in 
 a ship. He starts with three ships, but the one in 
 which he himself sails alone escapes the hands of 
 “ young ” Brutus. Surely now will Marseilles be 
 treated with worse treatment than that which fell on 
 the Gaulish cities. But such is by no means Caesar’s 
 will. Caesar takes their public treasure and their 
 ships, and reminding them that he spares them rather 
 for their name and old character than for any merits 
 of theirs shown towards him, leaves two legions among 
 them, and goes to Rome. At Avaricum, when the 
 Gauls had fought to defend their own liberties, he had 
 destroyed everybody;—at Alesia he had decreed the 
 death of every inhabitant when they had simply asked 
 him leave to pass through his camp;—at Uxellodunum 
 he had cut off the hands and poked out the eyes of 
 Gauls who had dared to fight for their country. But 
 the Gauls were barbarians whom it was necessary that 
 Caesar should pacify. The Massilians were Greeks, 
 and a civilised people,—and might be useful. 
 
 Before coming on to Marseilles there had been a 
 little more for Ca3sar to do in Spain, where, as was 
 told in the last chapter, he had just compelled Afranius 
 and Petreius to lay down their arms and disband their 
 legions. Joined with them had been a third Pompeian 
 general, one Varro,—a distinguished man, though not, 
 perhaps, a great general,—of whom Caesar tells us that 
 
133 
 
 1IIE CIVIL WAR.—SECOND BOOK. 
 
 with his Roman policy he veered between Pompeian 
 and Caesarean tactics till, unfortunately for himself, 
 he declared for Pompey and the wrong side, when 
 he heard that Afranius was having his own way in 
 the neighbourhood of Lerida. But Yarro is in the 
 south of Spain, in Andalusia,—or Baetica, as it was 
 then called,—and in this southern province of Spain 
 it seems that Caesar’s cause was more popular than 
 that of Pompey. Caesar, at any rate, has but little 
 difficulty with Yarro. The Pompeian officer is deserted 
 by his legions, and gives himself up very quickly. 
 Caesar does not care to tell us what he did with Yarro, 
 but we know that he treated liis brother Roman with 
 the utmost courtesy. Yarro was a very learned man, 
 and a friend of Cicero’s, and one who wrote books, and 
 was a credit to Rome as a man of letters if not as a 
 general. We are told that he wrote 490 volumes, and 
 that he lived to be eighty-eight,—a fate very uncom¬ 
 mon with Romans who meddled with public affairs in 
 these days. Caesar made everything smooth in the 
 south of Spain, restoring the money and treasures 
 which Yarro had taken from the towns, and giving 
 thanks to everybody. Then he went on over the 
 Pyrenees to Marseilles, and made things smooth there. 
 
 But in the mean time things were not at all smooth 
 in Africa. The name of Africa was at this time given 
 to a small province belonging to the Republic, lying to 
 tlie east of Numidia, in which Carthage had stood 
 when Cartilage was a city, containing that promontory 
 which juts out towards Sicily, and having Utica as 
 its Roman capital. It has been already said that 
 
CjBSAR IN THE SOUTH OF SPAIN. 
 
 130 
 
 ■when Caesar determined to gain possession of certain 
 provinces of the Republic before be followed Pompey 
 across the Adriatic, be sent a lieutenant with three 
 legions into Sicily, desiring him to go on to Africa as 
 soon as things should have been arranged in the island 
 after the Caesarean fashion. The Sicilian matter is 
 not very troublesome, as Cato, the virtuous man, in 
 whose hands the government of the island had been 
 intrusted on behalf of the Republic, leaves it on the 
 arrival of the Caesarean legions, complaining bitterly of 
 Pompey’s conduct. Then Caesar’s lieutenant goes over 
 to Africa with two legions, as commanded, proposing 
 to his army the expulsion of one Attius Yams, who 
 had, according to Caesar’s story, taken irregular pos¬ 
 session of the province, keeping it on behalf of Pom- 
 pey, but not allowing the governor appointed by the 
 Republic so much as to put his foot on the shore. 
 This lieutenant was a great favourite of Caesar, by 
 name Curio, who had been elected tribune of the 
 people just when the Senate was making its attempt to 
 recall Caesar from his command in Gaul. In that 
 emergency, Curio as tribune had been of service to 
 Caesar, and Caesar loved the young man. He was one 
 of those who, though noble by birth, had flung them¬ 
 selves among the people, as Catiline had done and 
 Clodius,—unsteady, turbulent, unscrupulous, vicious, 
 needy, fond of pleasure, rapacious, but well educated, 
 brave, and clever. Caesar himself had been such a 
 man in his youth, and could easily forgive such faults 
 in the character of one who, in addition to such virtues 
 as have been named, possessed that farther and greater 
 
140 
 
 THE CIVIL WAR.—SECOND BOOK. 
 
 virtue of loving Caesar. Caesar expected great things 
 from Curio, and trusted him thoroughly. Curio, with 
 many ships and his two legions, lands in Africa, and 
 prepares to win the province for his great friend. He 
 does obtain some little advantage, so that he is called 
 “ Imperator” by his soldiers,—a name not given to a 
 general till he lias been victorious in the field; but it 
 seems clear, from Caesar’s telling of the story, that 
 Curio’s own officers and own soldiers distrusted him, 
 and were doubtful whether they would follow him, or 
 would take possession of the ships and return to Sicily; 
 —or would go over to Attius Yarus, who had been their 
 commander in Italy before they had deserted from 
 Pompey to Caesar. A council of war is held, and there 
 is much doubt. It is not only or chiefly of Attius 
 Yarus, their Roman enemy, that they are afraid ; but 
 there is Juba in their neighbourhood, the king of 
 Humidia, who will certainly fight for Yarus and 
 against Curio. He is Pompey’s declared friend, and 
 equally declared as. Caesar’s foe. He has, too, special 
 grounds of quarrel against Curio himself; and if he 
 comes in person with his army,—bringing such an 
 army as he can bring if he pleases,—it will certainly 
 go badly with Curio, should Curio be distant from his 
 camp. Then Curio, not content with his council of 
 war, and anxious that his soldiers should support him 
 in his desire to fight, makes a speech to the legion- 
 aries. We must remember, of course, that Caesar gives 
 us the words of this speech, and that Caesar must 
 himself have put the words together. 
 
 It is begun in the third person. He,—that is Curio, 
 
TEE STORY OF CURIO. 
 
 141 
 
 — tells the men how useful they were tu Caesar at 
 Corfinium, the town at which they went over from 
 Pompey to Caesar. But in the second sentence he 
 breaks into the first person and puts the very words 
 into Curio’s mouth. “ For you and your services,” he 
 says, “ were copied by all the towns ; nor is it without 
 cause that Caesar thinks kindly of you, and the Pom¬ 
 peians unkindly. For Pompey, having lost no battle, 
 but driven by the result of your deed, fled from Italy. 
 Me, whom Caesar holds most dear, and Sicily and 
 Africa without which he cannot hold Borne and Italy, 
 Caesar has intrusted to your honour. There are some 
 who advise you to desert me,—for what can be more 
 desirable to such men than that they at the same 
 time should circumvent me, and fasten upon you a 
 foul crime % ... . But you,—have you not heard 
 
 of the things done by Caesar in Spain,—two armies 
 beaten, two generals conquered, two provinces gained, 
 and all this done in forty days from that on which 
 Caesar first saw his enemy ? Can those who, uninjured, 
 were unable to stand against him, resist him now that 
 they are .conquered ? And you, who followed Caesar 
 when victory on his side was uncertain, now that 
 fortune has declared herself, will you go over to the 
 conquered side when you are about to realise the re¬ 
 ward of your zeal? .... But perhaps, though 
 you love Caesar, you distrust me. I will not say much 
 of my own deserts towards you,—which are indeed 
 less as yet than I had wished or you had expected.” 
 Then, having thus declared that he will not speak of 
 himself, he does venture to say a few words on the sub- 
 
142 
 
 TEE CIVIL WAR.—SECOND BOOK. 
 
 ject. “ But why should I pass over my own w r ork, 
 and the result that has been as yet achieved, and my 
 own fortune in war ? Is it displeasing to you that I 
 brought over the whole army, safe, without losing a 
 ship ? That, as I came, at my first onslaught, I should 
 have dispersed the fleet of the enemy? That, in 
 two days, I should have been twice victorious with 
 my cavalry; that I should have cut out two hundred 
 transports from the enemy’s harbour ; that I should 
 have so harassed the enemy that neither by land nor 
 sea could they get food to supply their wants ? Will 
 it please you to repudiate such fortune and such guid¬ 
 ance, and to connect yourself with the disgrace at Cor- 
 finium, the flight from Italy,”—namely, Pompey’s flight 
 to Dyrrachium,—“ the surrender of Spain, and the evils 
 of this African war? I indeed have wished to be 
 called Caesar’s soldier, and you have called me your 
 Imperator. If it repents you of having done so, I give 
 you back the compliment. Give me back my own 
 name, lest it seem that in scorn you have called me 
 by that title of honour.” 
 
 This is very spirited; and the merely rhetorical 
 assertion by Caesar that Curio thus spoke to his sol¬ 
 diers is in itself interesting, as showing us the way 
 in which the legionaries were treated by their com¬ 
 manders, and in which the greatest general, of that or 
 of any age, thought it natural that a leader should 
 address his troops. It is of value, also, as showing the 
 difficulty of keeping any legion true J o either side in 
 a civil war, in which, on either side, the men must 
 fight for a commander they had learned to respect, 
 
THE STORY OF CURIO „ 
 
 143 
 
 and against a commander they respected,—the com¬ 
 mander in each case being a Roman Imperator. 
 Curio, too, as we know, was a man who on such an 
 occasion could use words. But that he used the words 
 here put into his mouth, or any words like them, is 
 very improbable. Caesar was anxious to make the best 
 apology he could for the gallant young friend who 
 had perished in his cause, and has shown his love 
 by making the man he loved memorable to all pos- 
 terity. 
 
 But before the dark hour comes upon him the young 
 man has a gleam of success, which, had he really 
 spoken the words put into his mouth by Caesar, would 
 have seemed to justify them. He attacks the army of 
 his fellow-Roman, Yarns, and beats it, driving it back 
 into Utica. He then resolves to besiege the town, 
 and Caesar implies that he would have been successful 
 through the Caesarean sympathies of the townsmen,— 
 had it not been for the approach of the terrible Juba. 
 Then comes a rumour which reaches Curio, — and 
 which reaches Yarus too inside the town,—that the 
 Humidian king is hurrying to the scene with all his 
 forces. He has finished another affair that he had on 
 hand, and can now look to his Roman friends,—and 
 to his Roman enemies. Juba craftily sends forward 
 his prefect, or lieutenant, Sabura, with a small force 
 of cavalry, and- Curio is led to imagine that Juba has 
 not come, and that Sabura has been sent with scantv 
 aid to the relief of Yarus. Surely he can give a good 
 account of Sabura and that small body of Humidiax 
 horsemen. We see from the very first that Curio is 
 
144 
 
 THE CIVIL WAR.-SECOND BOOK. 
 
 doomed. Cossar, in a few touching words, makes liis 
 apology. “ The young man’s youth had much to do 
 with it, and his high spirit; his former success, too, 
 and his own faith in his own good fortune.” There ia 
 no word of reproach. Curio makes another speech to 
 his soldiers. “ Hasten to your prey,” he says, “ hasten 
 to your glory ! ” They do hasten,—after such a fashion 
 that when the foremost of them reach Sahura’s troops, 
 the hindermost of them are scattered far hack on the 
 road. They are cut to pieces by Juba. Curio is in¬ 
 vited by one of his officers to escape back to his tent. 
 Bnt Caesar tells us that Curio in that last moment 
 replied that having lost the army with which Caesar 
 had trusted him, he would never again look Caesar in 
 the face. That he did say some such words as these, 
 and that they were repeated by that officer to Caesar, 
 is probable enough. “ So, fighting, he is slain;”— 
 and there is an end of the man whom Caesar loved. 
 
 What then happened was very sad-for a Roman army. 
 Many hurry down to the ships at the sea; but there is 
 so much terror, so much confusion, and things are so 
 badly done, that but very few get over to Sicily. The 
 remainder endeavour to give themselves up to Yarns; 
 after doing which, could they have done it, their posi¬ 
 tion would not have been very bad. A Roman surren¬ 
 dering to a Roman would, at the Avorst, but find that 
 ne was compelled to change his party. Rut Juba comes 
 up and claims them as his prey, and Yarns does not 
 dare to oppose the barbarian king. Juba kills the most 
 sf them, but sends a few, whom he thinks may serve 
 kis purpose and add to his glory, back to his own king- 
 
KING JUBA. 
 
 145 
 
 dom. In doing which Juba behaved no worse than 
 Caesar habitually behaved in Gaul; but Caesar always 
 writes as though not only a Roman must regard a Ro¬ 
 man as more than a man, but as though also all others 
 must so regard Romans. And by making such assertions 
 in their own behalf, Romans were so regarded. We 
 are then told that the barbarian king of hTumidia rode 
 into Utica triumphant, with Roman senators in his 
 train; and the names of two special Roman senators 
 Cuesar sends down to posterity as having been among 
 that base number. As far as we can spare them, they 
 shall be spared. 
 
 Of Juba the king, and of his fate, we shall heal 
 again. 
 
 A. c. voh iv. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THIRD BOOK OF THE CIVIL WAR.—C2ESAR FOLLOWS POMrEY 
 INTO ILLYRIA.—THE LINES OF PETRA AND THE BATTLE OF 
 PHARSALIA. —B. C. 48 . 
 
 CiESAR begins the last book of bis last Commentary by 
 telling us that this was the year in which he Caesar, 
 was by the law permitted to name a consul, lie names 
 Publius Servilius to act in conjunction with himself. 
 The meaning of this is, that, as Caesar had been created 
 Dictator, Pompey having taken with him into Illyria 
 the consuls of the previous year, Caesar was now the 
 only magistrate under whose authority a consul could 
 be elected. No doubt he did choose the man, but the 
 election was supposed to have been made in accordance 
 with the forms of the Republic. He remained at Rome 
 as Dictator for eleven days, during which he made vari¬ 
 ous laws, of which the chi&f object was to lessen the 
 insecurity caused by the disruption of the ordinary 
 course of things; and then he went down to Brindisi on 
 the track of Pompey. He had twelve legions with him, 
 but he was badly off for ships in which to transport 
 them; and he owns that the health of the men is bad, 
 an autumn in the south of Italy having been very severe 
 
POMPEY'S ARMY. 
 
 147 
 
 on men accustomed to the healthy climate of Gaul and 
 the north of Spain. Pompey, he tells us, had had a 
 whole year to prepare his army,—a whole year, without 
 warfare, and had collected men and ships and money, 
 and all that support which assent gives, from Asia and 
 the Cyclades, from Corcyra, Athens, Bithynia, Cilicia, 
 Phoenicia, Egypt, and the free states of Achaia. He 
 had with him nine Boman legions, and is expecting two 
 more with his father-in-law Scipio out of Syria. He has 
 three thousand archers from Crete, from Sparta, and 
 from Pontus; he has twelve hundred slingers, and he 
 has seven thousand cavalry from Galatia, Cappadocia, 
 and Thrace. A valorous prince from Macedonia had 
 brought him two hundred men, all mounted. Pive hun¬ 
 dred of Galatian and German cavalry, who had been left 
 to overawe Ptolemy in Egypt, are brought to Pompey 
 by the filial care of young Cnaeus. He too had armed 
 eight hundred of their own family retainers, and had 
 brought them armed. Antiochus of Commagena sends 
 him two hundred mounted archers,—mercenaries, how¬ 
 ever, not sent without promise of high payment. Dar- 
 dani,—men from the land of old Troy, Bessi, from the 
 banks of the Hebrus, Thessalians and Macedonians, 
 have all been crowded together under Pompey’s stan¬ 
 dard. We feel that Caesar’s mouth waters as he re¬ 
 counts them. But we feel also that he is preparing for 
 the triumphant record in which he is about to tell us 
 that all these swarms did he scatter to the winds 
 of heaven with the handful of Boman legionaries 
 which he at last succeeded in landing on the shores 
 of Illyria. 
 
148 
 
 THE CIVIL WAR.-THIRD LOOK. 
 
 Pompey lias also collected from all parts “ frumenti 
 vim maximam”—“a great power of corn indeed,” as 
 an Irishman would say, translating the words literally. 
 And he has covered the seas with his ships, so as to 
 hinder Caesar from coming out of Italy. He has eight 
 vice-admirals to command his various fleets,— all of 
 whom Caesar names ; and over them all, as admiral-in¬ 
 chief, is Bibulus, who was joint-consul with Caesar be¬ 
 fore Caesar went to Gaul, and who was so harassed 
 during his consulship by the Caesareans that he shut 
 himself up in his house, and allowed Caesar to rule as 
 sole consul. How he is about to take his revenge; 
 but the vengeance of such a one as Bibulus cannot 
 reach Caesar. 
 
 Caesar having led his legions to Brindisi, makes them 
 a speech which almost beats in impudence anything 
 that he ever said or did. He tells them that as they 
 have now nearly finished all his work for him ;—they 
 have only got to lay low the Republic with Pompey 
 the Great, and all the forces of the Republic—to which, 
 however, have to be added King Ptolemy in Egypt, 
 King Pharnaces in Asia, and King Juba in Humidia ;— 
 they had better leave behind them at Brindisi all theii 
 little property, the spoils of former wars, so that they 
 may pack the tighter in the boats in which he means 
 to send them across to Illyria,—if only they can escape 
 the mercies of ex-Ccnsul Admiral Bibulus. There is 
 no suggestion that at any future time they will recover 
 their property. Eor them future hopes they are to trust 
 entirely to Cajsar’s generosity. With one shout they 
 declare their readiness to obey him. He takes over 
 
CAESAR CROSSES OUT OF ITALY INTO EPIRUS. 149 
 
 seven legions, escaping the dangers of those “ rocks of 
 evil fame/’ the Acroceraunia of which Horace tells us, 
 —and escaping Bibulus also, who seems to have shut 
 himself up in his ship as he did before in his house dur¬ 
 ing the consulship. Caesar seems to have made the pas¬ 
 sage with the conviction that had he Mien into the 
 hands of Bibulus everything would have been lost. And 
 with ordinary precaution and diligence on the part of 
 Bibulus such would have been the result. Yet he makes 
 the attempt,—trusting to the Fortune of Caesar,—and 
 lie succeeds. He lands at a place which he calls Pal 
 seste on the coast of Epirus, considerably to the south 
 of Dyrrachium, in Illyria. At Dyrracliium Pompey had 
 landed the year before, and there is now stored that 
 wealth of provision of which Caesar has spoken. But 
 Bibulus at last determines to be active, and he does 
 manage to fall upon the empty vessels which Caesar 
 sends back to fetch the remainder of his army. “ Hav¬ 
 ing come upon thirty of them/he falls upon them with 
 all the wrath occasioned by his own want of circum¬ 
 spection and grief, and burns them. And in the same 
 fire he kills the sailors and the masters of the vessels, 
 —hoping to deter others,” Caesar tells us, “ by the se¬ 
 verity of the punishment.” After that we are not sorry 
 to hear that he potters about on the seas very busy, 
 but still incapable, and that he dies, as it seems, of a 
 broken heart. ■ He does indeed catch one ship after¬ 
 wards,—not laden w r ith soldiers, but coming on a pri¬ 
 vate venture, with children, servants, and suchlike, de¬ 
 pendants and followers of Caesar’s camp. All these, 
 including the children, Bit ulus slaughters, down to 
 
150 
 
 THE CIVIL WAR.—THIRD BOOK. 
 
 the smallest child. We have, however, to remember 
 that the story is told hy Cassar, and that Csesar did not 
 love Bibulus. 
 
 Marc Antony has been left at Brindisi in command 
 of the legions which Csesar could not bring across at his 
 first trip for want of sufficient ship-room, and is pressed 
 very much by Caesar to make the passage. There are 
 attempts at treaties made, but as we read the account 
 we feel that Caesar is only obtaining the delay which 
 is necessary to him till he shall have been joined by 
 Antony. We are told how by this time the camps of 
 Caesar and Pompey have been brought so near toge¬ 
 ther that they are separated only by the river Apsus,— 
 for Caesar had moved northwards towards Pompey’s 
 stronghold. And the soldiers talked together across the 
 stream; “ nor, the while, was any weapon thrown,—by 
 compact between those who talked.” Then Caesar 
 sends Vatinius, as his ambassador, down to the river to 
 talk of peace; and Vatinius demands with a loud voice 
 “ whether it should not be allowed to citizens to send 
 legates to citizens, to treat of peace;—a thing that has 
 been allowed even to deserters from the wilds of the Py¬ 
 renees and to robbers,—especially with so excellent an 
 object as that of hindering citizens from fighting v T ith 
 citizens.” This seems so reasonable, that a day is 
 named, and Labienus,—who has deserted from Ca3sar 
 and become Pompeian,—comes to treat on one side of 
 the river, and Vatinius on the other. But,—so Coesar 
 tells the story himself,—the Ca3sarean soldiers throw 
 their weapons at their old general. They probably 
 cannot endure the voice or sight of one whom they re- 
 
CjESAKS ARMY IN ILLYRIA. 
 
 151 
 
 gard as a renegade. Labienus escapes under the pro¬ 
 tection of those who are with him,—hut he is full of 
 wrath against Caesar. “After this,” says he, “let us 
 cease to speak of treaties, for there can he no peace for 
 us till Caesar’s head has been brought to us.” But the 
 colloquies over the little stream no doubt answered 
 Caesar’s purpose. 
 
 Caesar is very anxious to get his legions over from 
 Italy, and even scolds Antony for not bringing them. 
 There is a story,—which he does not tell himself,—• 
 that he put himself into a small boat, intending to 
 cross over to Brindisi in a storm, to hurry matters, and 
 that he encouraged the awe-struck master of the boat 
 by reminding him that he would carry “ Caesar and his 
 fortunes.” The story goes on to say that the sailors 
 attempted the trip, but were driven back by the tem¬ 
 pest. 
 
 At last there springs up a south-west wind, and An¬ 
 tony ventures with his flotilla,—although the war-ships 
 of Pompey still hold the sea, and guard the Illyrian 
 coast. But Caesar’s general is successful, and the second 
 half of the Caesarean army is carried northward by fa¬ 
 vouring breezes towards the shore in the very sight of 
 Pompey and his soldiers at Dyrrachium. Two ships, 
 however, lag behind and fall into the hands of one 
 Otacilius, an officer belonging to Pompey. The two 
 ships, one full of recruits and the other of veterans, 
 agree to surrender, Otacilius having sworn that he will 
 not hurt the men. “ Here you may see,” says Csesar, 
 “ how much safety to men there is in presence of mind.” 
 The recruits do as they have undertaken, and give them- 
 
152 
 
 THE CIVIL WAR.—THIRD BOOK. 
 
 selves up ;—whereupon Otacilius, altogether disregard¬ 
 ing his oath, like a true Eoman, kills every man of 
 them. But the veterans, disregarding their word also, 
 and knowing no doubt to a fraction the worth of the 
 word of Otacilius, run their ship ashore in the night, 
 and, with much fighting, get safe to Antony. Caesar im¬ 
 plies that the recruits even would have known better had 
 they not been sea-sick; but that even bilge-water and 
 bad weather combined had failed to touch the ancient 
 courage of the veteran legionaries. They were still 
 good men—“item conflictati et tempestatis et sentinae 
 vitiis.” 
 
 We are then told how Metellus Scipio, coming out of 
 Syria with his legions into Macedonia, almost succeeds 
 in robbing the temple of Diana of Ephesus on his 
 way. He gets together a body of senators, who are tc 
 give evidence that he counts the money fairly as he 
 takes it out of the temple. But letters come from 
 Pompey just as he is in the act, and he does not dare to 
 delay his journey even to complete so pleasant a trans¬ 
 action. He comes to meet Pompey and to share his 
 command at the great battle that must soon be fought. 
 We hear, too, how Caesar sends his lieutenants into 
 Thessaly and iEtolia and Macedonia, to try what 
 friends he has there, to take cities, and to get food. 
 He is now in a land which has seemed specially to be¬ 
 long to Pompey; but even here they have heard of 
 Caesar, and the Greeks are simply anxious to be friends 
 with the strongest Poman of the day. They have to 
 judge which will win, and to adhere to him. Por the 
 poor Greeks there is much difficulty in forming a judg* 
 
CAESAR IX ILLYRIA. 
 
 153 
 
 ment. Presently we shall see the way in which Csesai 
 gives a lesson on that subject to the citizens of Gomplii. 
 In the mean time he joins his own forces to those lately 
 brought by Antony out of Italy, and resolves that he 
 will force Pompey to a fight. 
 
 We may divide the remainder of this last book of 
 the second Commentary into two episodes,—the first 
 being the story of what occurred within the lines at 
 Petra, and the second the account of the crowning 
 battle of Pliarsalia. In the first Pompey was the 
 victor,—but the victory, great as it was, has won from 
 the world very little notice. In the second, as all the 
 world knows, Caesar was triumphant and henceforward 
 dominant. And yet the affair at Petra should have 
 made a Pliarsalia unnecessary, and indeed impossible. 
 Two reasons have conspired to make Pompey’s com¬ 
 plete success at Petra unimportant in the world’s esteem. 
 This Commentary was written not by Pompey but by 
 Caesar; and then, unfortunately for Pompey, Pliarsalia 
 was allowed to follow Petra. 
 
 It is not very easy to unravel Cajsar’s story of the 
 doings of the two armies at Petra. Kor, were this 
 ever so easy, would our limits or the purport of this 
 little volume allow us to attempt to give that narrative 
 in full to our readers. Caesar had managed to join the 
 legions which he had himself brought from Italy with 
 those which had crossed afterwards with Antony, and 
 was now anxious for a battle. His men, though fewer in 
 number than they who followed Pompey, were fit for 
 fighting, and knew all the work of soldiering. Pom¬ 
 pey’s men were for the most part beginners;—but 
 
154 
 
 T11E CIVIL WA R.—THIRD BOOK. 
 
 they were learning, and every week added to their ex¬ 
 perience was a week in Pompey’s favour. With hope ol 
 forcing a battle, Caesar managed to get his army between 
 Dyrrachium, in which were kept all Pompey’s stores 
 and wealth of war, and the army of his opponent, so 
 that Pompey, as regarded any approach by land, was shut 
 off from Dyrrachium. But the sea was open to him. 
 His fleet was everywhere on the coast, while Caesar 
 had not a ship that could dare to show its bow upon 
 the waters. 
 
 There was a steep rocky promontory some few miles 
 north of Dyrrachium, from whence there was easy access 
 to the sea, called Petra, or the rock. At this point 
 Pompey could touch the sea, but between Petra and 
 Dyrrachium Caesar held the country. Here, on this 
 rock, taking in for the use of his army a certain some¬ 
 what wide amount of pasturage at the foot of the rock, 
 Pompey placed his army, and made intrenchments all 
 round from sea to sea, fortifying himself, as all Roman 
 generals knew how to do, with a bank and ditch and 
 twenty-four turrets and earthworks that would make 
 the place absolutely impregnable. The length of his 
 lines was fifteen Roman miles,—more than thirteen 
 .English miles,—so that within his works he might 
 have as much space as possible to give him grass for 
 his horses. So placed, he had all the world at his 
 back to feed him. Hot only could he get at that 
 wealth of stores which he had amassed at Dyrrachium, 
 and which were safe from Caesar, but the coasts of 
 Greece, and Asia, and Egypt were open to his ships. 
 Two things only were wanting to him,—sufficient grass 
 
THE LINES OF PETRA. 
 
 155 
 
 for liis horses, and water. But all things were want¬ 
 ing to Ccesar,—except grass and water. The Illyrian 
 country at his hack was one so unproductive, being 
 rough and mountainous, that the inhabitants them¬ 
 selves were in ordinary times fed upon imported corn. 
 And Pompey, foreseeing something of what might hap¬ 
 pen, had taken care to empty the storehouses and to 
 leave the towns behind him destitute and impoverished. 
 
 Nevertheless Caesar, having got the body of his 
 enemy, as it were, imprisoned at Petra, was determined 
 to keep his prisoner fast. So round and in front of 
 Pompey’s lines he also made other lines, from sea to 
 sea. He began by erecting turrets and placing small 
 detachments on the little hills outside Pompey’s lines, 
 so as to prevent his enemy from getting the grass. 
 Then he joined these towers by lines, and in this way 
 surrounded the other lines,—thinking that so Pom¬ 
 pey would not be able to send out his horsemen for 
 forage; and again, that the horses inside at Petra 
 might gradually be starved; and again “ that the repu¬ 
 tation,”—“ auctoritatem,”—“ which in the estimation of 
 foreign nations belonged chiefly to Pompey in this war, 
 would be lessened when the story should have been 
 told over the world that Pompey had been besieged by 
 Caesar, and did not dare to fight.” 
 
 We are, perhaps, too much disposed to think,—read¬ 
 ing our history somewhat cursorily,—that Caesar at this 
 time was everybody, and that Pompey was hardly 
 worthy to be his foe. Such passages in the Commen¬ 
 tary as that above translated,—they are not many, but 
 a few suffice,— show that this idea is erroneous. Up 
 
15G 
 
 THE CIVIL WAR.-THIRD BOOK. 
 
 to this pefiod in their joint courses Pompey had been 
 the greater man; Caesar had done very much, hut 
 Pompey had done more—and now he had on his side 
 almost all that was wealthy and respectable in Rome. 
 He led the Conservative party, and was still confident 
 that he had only to hide his time, and that Caesar 
 must fall before him. Caesar and the Caesareans were 
 to him as the spirits of the Revolution were in France 
 to Louis XVI., to Charles X., and to Louis-Philippe, 
 before they had made their powers credible and for¬ 
 midable ; as the Reform Bill and Catholic Emancipa¬ 
 tion were to such men as George IV. and Lord Eldon, 
 while yet they could be opposed and postponed. It 
 was impossible to Pompey that the sweepings of Rome, 
 even with Caesar and Caesar’s army to help them, 
 should at last prevail over himself and over the 
 Roman Senate. “ He was said at that time,” we are 
 again translating Caesar’s words, “ to have declared with 
 boasts among his own people, that he would not him¬ 
 self deny that as a general he should be considered to 
 be worthless if Caesar’s legions should now extricate 
 themselves from the position in which they had rashly 
 entangled themselves without very great loss ”— 
 “ maximo detrimento ” — loss that should amount 
 wellnigh to destruction. And he was all but right in 
 what he said. 
 
 There was a great deal of fighting for the plots of 
 grass and different bits of vantage-ground,—fighting 
 which must have taken place almost entirely between 
 the two lines. But Caesar suffered under this disad¬ 
 vantage, that his works, being much the longest. 
 
THE LINES OF PETRA. 
 
 157 
 
 required the greatest number of men to erect them 
 and prolong them and keep them in order; whereas 
 Pompey, who in this respect had the least to do, having 
 the inner line, was provided with much the greater 
 number of men to do it. Caesar's men, being veter¬ 
 ans, had always the advantage in the actual fighting ; 
 but in the mean time Pompey’s untried soldiers were 
 obtaining that experience which was so much needed 
 by them. Nevertheless Pompey suffered very much. 
 They could not get water on the rock, and when he 
 attempted to sink wells, Caesar so perverted the water¬ 
 courses that the wells gave no water. Caesar tells us 
 that he even dammed up the streams, making little 
 lakes to hold it, so that it should not trickle down in 
 its underground courses to the comfort of his enemies; 
 but we should have thought that any reservoirs so 
 made must soon have overflown themselves, and have 
 been useless for the intended purpose. In the mean 
 time Caesar’s men had no bread but what was made of 
 a certain wild cabbage,—“ cliara,”—which grew there, 
 which they kneaded up with milk, and lived upon it 
 cheerfully, though it was not very palatable. To shew 
 the Pompeians the sort of fare with which real veter¬ 
 ans could be content to break their fasts, they threw 
 loaves of this composition across the lines.; for they 
 were close together, and could talk to each other, and 
 the Pompeians did not hesitate to twit their enemies 
 with their want of provisions. But the Caesareans had 
 plenty of water,—and plenty of meat; and they assure 
 Caesar that they would rather eat the bark off the trees 
 than allow the Pompeians to escape them. 
 
158 
 
 THE CIVIL WAR.-THIRD ROOK . 
 
 But there was always this for Caesar to fear,—that 
 Pompey should land a detachment behind his lines 
 and attack him at the hack. To hinder this Caesar 
 made another intrenchment, with ditch and hank, 
 running at right angles from the shore, and was in¬ 
 tending to join this to his main work by a transverse 
 line of fortifications running along that short portion 
 of the coast which lay between his first lines and the 
 second, when there came upon him the disaster which 
 nearly destroyed him. While he was digging his 
 trenches and building his turrets the fighting was so 
 frequent that, as Caesar tells us, on one day there were 
 six battles. Pompey lost two thousand legionaries, 
 while Caesar lost no more than twenty; hut every 
 Caesarean engaged in a certain turret was wounded, and 
 four officers lost their eyes. Caesar estimates that 
 thirty thousand arrows were thrown upon the men 
 defending this tower, and tells us of one Scaeva, an 
 officer, who had two hundred and thirty holes made by 
 these arrows in his own shield.* We can only sur- 
 
 * Dean Merivale in his account of this affair reduces the 
 number of holes in Scaeva’s shield to one hundred and twenty, 
 —on the joint authority, no doubt, of Floras and Valerius 
 Maximus ; but Floras lived 20 * and Val. Max. 300 years after 
 Caesar. Suetonius allows the full number of holes, but implies 
 that 120 were received while the warrior was fighting in one 
 place, and 110 while fighting in another. Lucan sings the story 
 of Scseva at great length, but does not give the number of 
 wounds in the shield. He seems to say that Scseva was killed on 
 this occasion, but is not quite clear on the point. That Scaeva 
 had one eye knocked out is certain. Lucan does indeed tell 
 us, in the very last lines of his poem, that in Egypt Caesar once 
 again saw his beloved centurion ;—but at the moment described 
 
THE LINES OF PETRA . 
 
 159 
 
 mise that it must have "been a very big shield, and that 
 there must have been much trouble in counting the 
 holes. Caesar, however, was so much pleased that ho 
 gave Scaeva a large sum of money,—something over 
 £500, and, allowing him to skip over six intermediate 
 ranks, made him at once first centurion—or Primipilus 
 of the legion. We remember no other record of such 
 quick promotion—in prose. There is, indeed, the well- 
 known case of a common sailor who did a gallant ac¬ 
 tion and was made first-lieutenant on the spot; but 
 that is told in verse, and the common sailor was a lady. 
 
 Two perfidious Gauls to whom Caesar had been very 
 kind, but whom he had been obliged to check on ac¬ 
 count of certain gross peculations of which they had 
 been guilty, though, as he tells us, he had not time to 
 punish them, went over to Pompey, and told Pompey 
 all the secrets of Caesar’s ditches, and forts, and mounds, 
 —finished and unfinished. Before that, Caesar assures 
 us, not a single man of his had gone over to the ene¬ 
 my, though many of the enemy had come to him. But 
 those perfidious Gauls did a world of mischief. Pompey, 
 hearing how far Caesar was from having his works along 
 the sea-shore finished, got together a huge fleet of boats, 
 and succeeded at night in throwing a large body of his 
 men ashore between Caesar’s two lines, thus dividing 
 Caesar’s forces, and coming upon them in their weakest 
 
 even Cassarwas dismayed, and the commentators doubt whether 
 it was not Scaeva’s ghost that Caesar then saw. Valerius Maxi¬ 
 mus is sure that Scaeva was killed when he got the wounds;—but, 
 if so, how could he have been rewarded and promoted ? The 
 matter has been very much disputed; but here it has been 
 thought best to adhere to Caesar. 
 
ICO 
 
 THE CIVIL WaR.—THIRD BOOK. 
 
 point. Cmsar admits that there was a panic in hia 
 lines, and that the slaughter of his men was very great. 
 It seems that the very size of his own works produced 
 the ruin which hcfel them, for the different parts of 
 them were divided one from another, so that the men 
 in one position could not succour those in another. The 
 affair ended in the total rout of the Caesarean army. 
 Caesar actually fled, and had Pompey followed him we 
 must suppose that then there would have been an 
 end of Caesar. He acknowledges that in the two 
 battles fought on that day he lost 9GO legionaries, 32 
 officers, and 32 standards. 
 
 And then Caesar tells us a story of Labienus, who had 
 been his most trusted lieutenant in the Gallic wars, but 
 who had now gone over to Pompey, not choosing to 
 fight against the Eepublic. Labienus demanded of 
 Pompey the Caesarean captives, and caused them all to 
 be slaughtered, asking them with scorn whether veter¬ 
 ans such as they were accustomed to run away. Caesar 
 is very angry with Labienus ; but Labienus might have 
 defended himself by saying that the slaughter of pri¬ 
 soners of war was a custom he had learned in Gaul, 
 As for those words of scorn, Caesar could hardly have 
 heard them with his own ears, and we can understand 
 that he should take delight in saying a hard thing of 
 Labienus. 
 
 Pompey was at once proclaimed Imperator. And 
 Pompey used the name, though the victory had, 
 alas ! been gained over his fellow-countrymen. “ So 
 great was the effect of all this on the spirits and confi¬ 
 dence of the Pompeians, that they thought no more of 
 the carrying on of the war, but only of the victoiy 
 
THE LINES OF PETRA. 
 
 161 
 
 they had gained.” And then Caesar throws scorn 
 upon the Pompeians, making his own apology in the 
 same words. ‘‘They did not care to remember that 
 the small number of our soldiers was the cause of their 
 triumph, or that the unevenness of the ground and nar¬ 
 rowness of the defiles had aught to do with it; or 
 the occupation of our lines, and the panic of our men 
 between their double fortifications ; or our army cut 
 into two parts, so that one part could not help the 
 other. Nor did they add to this the fact that our men, 
 pressed as they were, could not engage themselves in 
 a fair conflict, and that they indeed suffered more from 
 their own numbers, and from the narrowness of the 
 ravines, than from the enemy. Nor were the ordinary 
 chances of war brought to mind,—how small matters, 
 such as some unfounded suspicion, a sudden panic, a 
 remembered superstition, may create great misfortune ; 
 nor how often the fault of a general, or the mistake of 
 an officer, may bring injury upon an army. But they 
 spread abroad the report of the victory of that day 
 throughout all the world, sending forth letters and 
 tales as though they had conquered solely by their own 
 valour, nor was it possible that there should after this 
 be a reverse of their circumstances.” Such was the 
 affair of Petra, by which the relative position in the 
 world-history of Caesar and Pompey was very nearly 
 made the reverse of what it is. 
 
 Caesar now acknowledges that he is driven to change 
 the whole plan of his campaign. He addresses a 
 speech to his men, and explains to them that this 
 defeat, like that at Gergovia, may lead to their future 
 
 A. C. vol. iv. L 
 
162 
 
 THE CIVIL WAR.—THIRD BOOK. 
 
 success. The victory at Alesia had sprung from the 
 defeat of Gergovia, because the Gauls had been in¬ 
 duced to fight; and from the reverses endured within 
 the lines of Petra might come the same fortune;—for 
 surely now the army of Pompey would not fear a 
 battle. Some few officeis he punishes and degrades. 
 His own words respecting his army after their defeat 
 are very touching. “ So great a grief had come from 
 this disaster upon the whole army, and so strong a 
 desire of repairing its disgrace, that no one now desired 
 the place of tribune or centurion in his legion; and 
 all, by way of self-imposed punishment, subjected 
 themselves to increased toil; and every man burned 
 with a desire to fight. Some from the higher ranks 
 were so stirred by Caesar’s speech, that they thought 
 that they should stand their ground where they were, 
 and hght where they stood.” But Caesar was too 
 good a general for that. He moves on towards the 
 south-east, and in retreating gets the better of Pompey, 
 who follows him with only half a heart. After a 
 short while Pompey gives up the pursuit. His father- 
 in-law, Scipio, has brought a great army from the 
 east, and is in Thessaly. As we read this we cannot 
 fail to remember how short a time since it was that 
 Caesar himself was Pompey’s father-in-law, and that 
 Pompey was Caesar’s friend because, with too uxorious 
 a love, he clung to Julia, his young wife. Pompey 
 now goes eastward to unite his army to that of Scipio . 
 and Caesar, making his way also into Thessaly by a 
 more southern route, joins certain forces under his 
 lieutenant Calvinus, who had been watching Scipio, 
 
PIIA RSALIA. 
 
 163 
 
 * 
 
 ami who barely escaped falling into Pompey’s hands 
 before he could, reach Caesar. But wherever P jrtune 
 or Chance could interfere, the Gods were always kind 
 to Caesar. 
 
 Then Caesar tells us of his treatment of two towns 
 in Thessaly, Gomphi and Metropolis. Unluckily for 
 the poor Gomphians, Caesar reaches Gomphi first. 
 Uow the fame of Pompey’s victory at Petra had been 
 spread abroad; and the Gomphians, who,—to give them 
 their due,—would have been just as willing to favour 
 Caesar as Pompey, and who only wanted to be on the 
 winning aide that they might hold their little own in 
 safety, believed that things were going badly with 
 Caesar. They therefore shut their gates against Caesar, 
 and sent off messengers to Pompey. They can hold 
 their town against Caesar for a little while, but Pompey 
 must come quickly to their aid. Pompey comes by 
 no means quick enough, and the Gomphians’ capacity 
 to hold.their own is very short-lived. At about three 
 o’clock in the afternoon Caesar begins to besiege the 
 town, and before sunset he has taken it, and given it 
 to be sacked by his soldiers. The men of Metropolis 
 were also going to shut their gates, but luckily they 
 hear just in time what had happened at Gomphi,—and 
 open them instead. Whereupon Caesar showers pro¬ 
 tection upon Metropolis ; and all the other towns of 
 Thessaly, hearing what had been done, learn what 
 Caesar’s favour means. 
 
 Pompey, having joined his army to that of Scipio, 
 shares all his honours with his father-in-law. When 
 we hear this we know that Pompey’s position was not 
 
1G4 
 
 THE CIVIL WAR.—THIRD BOOK. 
 
 comfortable, and that he was under constraint. Ho 
 was a man who would share his honour with no one 
 unless driven to do so. And indeed his command 
 at present was not a pleasant one. It was much for 
 a Roman commander to have with him the Roman 
 Senate,—hut the senators so placed would he apt to he 
 less obedient than trained soldiers. They even accuse 
 him of keeping them in Thessaly because he likes to 
 lord it over such followers. But they were, neverthe¬ 
 less, all certain that Caesar was about to be destroyed; 
 and, even in Pompey’s camp, they quarrel over the 
 rewards of victory which they think that they will 
 enjoy at Rome when their oligarchy shall have been 
 re-established by Pompey’s arms. 
 
 Before the great day arrives Labienus again ap¬ 
 pears on the scene ; and Caesar puts* into his mouth a 
 speech which he of course intends us to compare with 
 the result of the coming battle. “Do not think, 0 
 Pompey, that this is the army which conquered Gaul 
 and Germany,”—where Labienus himself was second 
 in command under Caesar. “ I was present at all 
 those battles, and speak of a thing which I know. A 
 very small part of that army remains. Many have 
 perished,—as a matter of course in so many battles. 
 The autumn pestilence killed many in Italy. Many 
 have gone home. Many have been left on the other 
 shore. Have you not heard from our own friends who 
 remained behind sick, that these cohorts of Ctesar’s 
 were made up at Brindisi ? ”—made up but the other 
 day, Labienus implies. “This army, indeed, has been 
 renewed from levies in the two Gauls ; but all that it 
 
PHARSALIA. 
 
 165 
 
 had of strength perished in those two battles at Dyr- 
 rachium;”—in the contests, that is, within the lines of 
 Petra. Upon this Labienus swears that be will not 
 sleep under canvas again until he sleeps as victor over 
 Caesar ; and Pompey swears the same, and everybody 
 swears. Then they all go away full of the coming 
 victory. We daresay there was a great deal of false 
 confidence; but as for the words which Caesar puts 
 into the mouth of Labienus, Ave know well how much 
 cause Caesar had to dislike Labienus, and we doubt 
 whether they Avere ever spoken. 
 
 At length the battle-field is chosen,—near the toAvn 
 of Pliarsalus, on the banks of the river Enipeus in 
 Thessaly. The battle has acquired world-wide fame as 
 that of Pharsalia, A\ r hich we have been taught to regard as 
 the name of the plain on which it was fought. Neither 
 of these names occur in the Commentary, nor does 
 that of the river; and the actual spot on Avhich the 
 great contest took place seems to be a matter of doubt 
 even hoav. The ground is Turkish soil,—near to the 
 mountains which separate modern Greece from Turkey, 
 and is not Avell adapted for the researches of historical 
 travellers. Caesar had been keeping his men on the 
 march close to Pompey, till Pompey found that he 
 could no longer abstain from fighting. Then came 
 Labienus Avith his vaunts, and his oath,-—and at length 
 the day and the field were chosen. Caesar at any rate 
 Avas ready. At this time Caesar was fifty-tAA T o years 
 old, and Pompey Avas five years his elder. 
 
 Caesar tells us that Pompey had 110 cohorts, or eleA r en 
 legions. Had the legions been full, Pompey’s army 
 
166 
 
 THE CIVIL WAR.—THIRD ROOK. 
 
 would have contained 66,000 legionaries ; hut Caesaf 
 states their number at 45,000, or something over two- 
 thirds of the full number. He does not forget to tell 
 us once again that among these eleven were the two 
 legions which he had given up in obedience to the de¬ 
 mand of the Senate. Pompey himself, with these two 
 very legions, placed himself on the left away from the 
 river ; and there also were all his auxiliaries,—not 
 counted with the legionaries,—slingers, archers, and 
 cavalry. Scipio commanded in the centre with the 
 legions he had brought out of Syria. So Caesar tells 
 us. We learn from other sources that Lentulus com¬ 
 manded Pompey’s right wing, lying on the river—and 
 Homitius, whom we remember as trying to hold Mar¬ 
 seilles against young Brutus and Trebonius, the left. 
 Caesar had 80 cohorts, or eight legions, which should 
 have numbered 48,000 men had his legions been full; 
 —but, as he tells us, he led but 22,000 legionaries, so 
 that his ranks were deficient by more than a half. 
 As was his custom, he had his tenth legion to the 
 right, away from the river. The ninth, terribly 
 thinned by what had befallen it within the lines at 
 Petra, joined to the eleventh,lay next the river, form¬ 
 ing part of Caesar’s left wing. Antony commanded 
 the left wing, Domitius Calvinus, whom Caesar some¬ 
 times calls by one name and sometimes by the other, 
 the centre,—and Sulla the right. Caesar placed himself 
 to the right, with his tenth legion, opposite to Pompey. 
 As far as we can learn, there was but little in the 
 nature of the ground to aid either of them;—and so 
 the fight began. 
 
 There is not much complication, and perhaps no 
 
PIIA RSALIA. 
 
 167 
 
 great interest, in the account of the actual bactie as it 
 is given by Caesar. Caesar makes a speech to his army, 
 which was, as we have already learned, and as he tells 
 us now, the accustomed thing to do. No falser speech 
 was ever made by man, if he spoke the words which 
 he himself reports. He first of all reminds them how 
 they themselves are witnesses that he has done his 
 best to insure peace;—and then he calls to their memory 
 certain mock treaties as to peace, in which, when seek¬ 
 ing delay, he had pretended, to engage himself and 
 his enemy. He had never wasted, he told them, the 
 blood of his soldiers, nor did he desire to deprive 
 the Republic of either army—“ alterutro exercitu”—of 
 Pompey’s army or of his own. They were both 
 Roman, and far be it from him to destroy aught 
 belonging to the Republic. We must acknowledge 
 that Caesar was always ckar} r of Roman life and Roman 
 blood. He would spare it when it could be spared; 
 but he could spill it like water when the spilling of 
 it was necessary to his end. He was very politic; but 
 as for tenderness,—neither he nor any Roman knew 
 what it was. 
 
 Then there is a story of one Crastinus, who declares 
 that whether dead or alive lie will please Caesar. He 
 throws the first weapon against the enemy and does 
 please Caesar. But he has to please by his death, for 
 he is killed in his effort. 
 
 Pompey orders that his first rank shall not leave its 
 order to advance, but shall receive the shock of Caesar’s 
 attack. Caesar points out to us that he is wrong in 
 this, because the very excitement of a first attack gives 
 increased energy and strength to the men. Caesar’s 
 
168 
 
 THE CIVIL WAR.—THIRD BOOK. 
 
 » legionaries are told to attack, and they rush over the 
 space intervening between the first ranks to do so. 
 But they are so well trained that they pause and 
 catch their breath before they throw their weapons. 
 Then they throw their piles and draw their swords, 
 and the ranks of the two armies are close pitted against 
 each other. 
 
 But Pompey had thought that he could win the 
 battle, almost without calling on his legionaries for 
 any exertion, by the simple strategic movement of his 
 numerous cavalry and auxiliaries. He outnumbered 
 Caesar altogether, hut in these arms he could overwhelm 
 him with a cloud of horsemen and of archers. But 
 Caesar also had known of these clouds. He fought 
 now as always with a triple rank of legionaries,—hut 
 behind his third rank,—or rather somewhat to their 
 right shoulder,—he had drawn up a choice body of men 
 picked from his third line, — a fourth line as it were, 
 —whose business it was to stand against Pompey’s 
 clouds when the attempt should be made by these 
 clouds upon their right flank. Caesar’s small body of 
 cavalry did give way before the Pompeian clouds, and 
 the horsemen and the archers and the slingers swept 
 round upon Caesar’s flank. But they swept round 
 upon destruction. Caesar gave the word to that fourth 
 line of picked men. “Illi—they,” says Caesar, “ran 
 forward with the greatest rapidity, and with their 
 standards in advance attacked the cavalry of Pompey 
 with such violence that none of them could stand their 
 ground;—so that all not only were forced from the 
 ground, but being at once driven in panic, they sought 
 the shelter of the highest mountains near them. And 
 
PHARSAL1A. 
 
 1G9 
 
 when they were thus removed, all the archers and the 
 slingers, desolate and unarmed, without any one to take 
 care of them, were killed in heaps.’’ Such is Caesar’s 
 account of Pompey’s great attack of cavalry which 
 was to win the battle without giving trouble to the 
 legions. 
 
 Caesar acknowledges that Pompey’s legionaries drew 
 their swords bravely and began their share of the fight¬ 
 ing well. Then at once he tells us of the failure on 
 the part of the cavalry and of the slaughter of the 
 poor auxiliary slingers, and in the very next sentence 
 gives us to understand that the battle was won. 
 Though Pompey’s legions were so much more numer¬ 
 ous than those of Caesar, w r e are told that Caesar’s third 
 line attacked the Pompeian legionaries when they were 
 “defessi”—worn out. The few cohorts of picked 
 men who in such marvellous manner had dispersed 
 Pompey’s clouds, following on their success, turned the 
 flank of Pompey’s legions and carried the day. That 
 it was all as Caesar says there can be little doubt. 
 That he won the battle there can, v r e presume, be 
 no doubt. Pompey at once flew to his camp and 
 endeavoured to defend it. Put such defence was 
 impossible, and Pompey w'as driven to seek succour 
 in flight. He found a horse and a few companions, 
 and did not stop till he was on the sea-shore. Then 
 he got on board a provision-vessel, and was heard to 
 complain that he had been betrayed by those very men 
 from whose hands he had expected victory. 
 
 "We are told with much picturesque effect how 
 Caesar’s men, hungry, accustomed to endurance, patient 
 in all their want, found Pompey’s camp prepared foi 
 
170 
 
 THE CIVIL WAR.—THIRD BOOK. 
 
 4 victory, and decked in luxurious preparation for the 
 senatorial victors. Couclies were strewn, and plate 
 was put out, and tables prepared, and the tents of these 
 happy ones were adorned with fresh ivy. The sena¬ 
 torial happy ones have but a bad time of it, either 
 perishing in their flight, or escaping into the desert 
 solitudes of the mountains. Caesar follows up his con¬ 
 quest, and on the day after the battle compels the great 
 body of the fugitives to surrender at discretion. He 
 surrounds them on the top of a hill and shuts them 
 out from water, and they do surrender at discretion. 
 With stretched-out hands, prone upon the earth, these 
 late conquerors, the cream of the Roman power, who 
 had so lately sworn to conquer ere they slept, weeping 
 beg for mercy. Caesar, having said a few words to 
 them of his clemency, gave them their lives. He re¬ 
 commends them to the care of his own men, and desires 
 that they may neither be slaughtered nor robbed. 
 
 Caesar says he lost only 200 soldiers in that battle 
 -—and among them 30 officers, all brave men. That 
 gallant Crastinus was among the 30. Of Pompey’s 
 army 15,000 had been killed, and 24,000 had surren¬ 
 dered ! 180 standards and 9 eagles were taken and 
 
 brought to Caesar. The numbers seem to us to be 
 almost incredible, whether we look at those given to 
 us in regard to the conqueror or the conquered. Caesar’s 
 account, however, of that day’s work has hitherto been 
 taken as authoritative, and it is too late now to ques¬ 
 tion it. After this fashion was the battle of Pharsalia 
 won, and the so-called Roman Republic brought to an 
 end. 
 
 Rut Caesar by no means thought that his work waa 
 
THE FLIGHT OF POMPEY. 
 
 171 
 
 done;—nor indeed was it nearly done. It was now 
 clearly his first duty to pursue Pompey,—whom, 
 should he escape, the outside provinces and distant 
 allies of the Republic would soon supply with another 
 army. “ Caesar thought that Pompey was to be pur¬ 
 sued to the neglecting of all other things.” In the 
 mean time Pompey, who seems to have been panic- 
 struck by his misfortune, fled with a few friends down 
 the iEgean Sea, picked his young wife up at an island 
 as he went, and made his way to Egypt. The story of 
 his murder by those who had the young King of Egypt 
 in their keeping is well known and need not detain us. 
 Caesar tells it very shortly. Pompey sends to young 
 Ptolemy for succour and assistance, trusting to past 
 friendship between himself and the young king’s father. 
 Ptolemy is in the hands of eunuchs, adventurers, and 
 cut-throat soldiers, and has no voice of his own in the 
 matter. But these ruffians think it well to have Pom¬ 
 pey out of the way, and therefore they murder him. 
 Achillas, a royal satrap, and Septimius, a Roman sol¬ 
 dier, go out to Pompey’s vessel, as messengers from the 
 king, and induce him to come down into their boat. 
 Then, in the very sight of his wife, he is slaughtered, 
 and his head is carried away as proof of the deed. 
 Such was the end of Pompey, for whom no fortune 
 had seemed to be too great, till Caesar came upon the 
 scene. "We are told by the Roman poet, Lucan, who 
 took the battle of Pharsalia as his difficult theme, that 
 Caesar could bear no superior, and Pompey no equal. 
 The poet probably wished to make the latter the more 
 magnanimous by the comparison. To ns, as we ex¬ 
 amine the character of the two generals, Caesar seema 
 
172 
 
 THE CIVIL WAR.-THIRD ROOK. 
 
 at least as jealous of power as his sou-in-law, and cer* 
 tainly was the more successful of the two in extruding 
 all others from a share in the power which he coveted. 
 Pompey in the triumvirate admitted his junior to 
 more, as ho must have felt it, than equal- power: 
 Caesar in the triumvirate simply made a stepping-stone 
 of the great man who was his elder. Pompey at 
 Thessaly was forced to divide at least the name of his 
 power with Scipio, his last father-in-law : hut Caesar 
 never gave a shred of his mantle to he worn by another 
 soldier. 
 
 In speaking, however, of the character of Pompey, 
 and in comparing it with that of his greater rival, it 
 may probably be said of him that in all his contests, 
 both military and political, he was governed by a love 
 of old Rome, and of the Republic as the greatest 
 national institution which the world had ever known, 
 and by a feeling which we call patriotism, and of 
 which Caesar was,—perhaps, we may say, too great to be 
 capable. Pompey desired to lead, but to lead the be¬ 
 loved Republic. Caesar, caring nothing for the things of 
 old, with no reverence for the past, utterly destitute of 
 that tenderness for our former footsteps which makes 
 so many of us cling with passionate fondness to con¬ 
 victed errors, desired to create out of the dust of the 
 Republic,—which fate and his genius allowed him to 
 recast as he would,—something which should be better 
 and truer than the Republic. 
 
 The last seven chapters of the third book of this 
 Commentary form a commencement of the record of 
 the Alexandrine war, — Avliich, beyond those seven 
 chapters, Caesar himself did not write. That he 
 
CAESAR FOLLOWS POMPEY TO EGYPT. 173 
 
 should have written any Commentary amidst the 
 necessary toils of war, and the perhaps more pressing 
 emergencies of his political condition, is one of the 
 greatest marvels of human power. He tells us now, 
 that having delayed hut a few days in Asia, he followed 
 Pompey first to Cyprus and then to Egypt, taking with 
 him as his entire army three thousand two hundred 
 men. “ The rest, worn out with wounds, and battles, 
 and toil, and the greatness of the journey, could not 
 follow him.” But he directed that legions should bo 
 made up for him from the remnants of Pompey’s broken 
 army, and, with a godlike trust in the obedience of ab¬ 
 sent vassals, he went on to Egypt. He tells us that 
 he was kept in Alexandria by Etesian winds. But we 
 know also that Cleopatra came to him at Alexandria, 
 requiring his services in her contest for the crown of 
 Egypt; and knowing at what price she bought them, 
 we doubt the persistent malignity of the Etesian winds. 
 Had Cleopatra been a swarthy Nubian, as some have 
 portrayed her, Caesar, we think, would have left Alexr 
 andria though the Etesian winds had blown in his very 
 teeth. All winds filled Caesar’s sails. Caesar gets pos¬ 
 session of Cleopatra’s brother Ptolemy, who, in accord¬ 
 ance with their father’s will, was to have, reigned in 
 conjunction with his sister, and the Alexandrians 
 rise against him in great force. He slays Photinus, 
 the servant of King Ptolemy, has his own ambassador 
 slain, and burns the royal fleet of Egypt,—burning 
 with it, unfortunately, the greater part of the royal 
 library. “ These things were the beginning of the 
 Alexandrine war.” These are the last words of Caesar’s 
 last Commentary. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 Having concluded liis ten short chapters descriptive 
 of the ten hooks of the Commentaries written by Cae¬ 
 sar himself, the author of this little volume has finished 
 his intended task,—and as he is specially anxious not 
 to he thought to have made an attempt at writing his¬ 
 tory, he would not add any concluding words, were it 
 not that three other Commentaries of Caesar’s three 
 other wars were added to Caesar’s Commentaries by 
 other writers. There is the Commentary on the Alex¬ 
 andrine war,—written probably by ITirtius, the authoi 
 of the last book of the Gallic war; and two Commen¬ 
 taries on the African war and the Spanish war,—writ¬ 
 ten, as the critics seem to think, by one Oppius, a 
 friend whom Caesar loved and trusted. The Alexan¬ 
 drine war was a war of itself, in which Caesar was in¬ 
 volved by his matchless audacity in following Pompey 
 into Egypt, and perhaps by the sweetness of Cleopa¬ 
 tra’s charms. And this led also to a war in Asia Minor, 
 the account of which is included with that of his Egyp¬ 
 tian campaign. The African war, and that afterwards 
 
CONCLUSION. 
 
 175 
 
 earned on in Spain with the object of crushing out tho 
 sparks of Pompeian revolt against his power, are sim¬ 
 ply the latter portions of the civil war, and their re 
 cords might have been written as chapters added to the 
 Commentary “ Do Bello Civili.” 
 
 Alexandria, when Caesar landed there in pursuit of 
 Pompey and had offered to him as a graceful tribute 
 on his first arrival the head of his murdered rival, was 
 a city almost as populous and quite as rich as Rome ; 
 and in the city, and throughout the more fertile parts 
 of Egypt, there was a crowd of Eoman soldiers left 
 there to support and to overawe the throne of the 
 Ptolemies. Caesar, with hardly more than half a full 
 legion to support him, enters Alexandria as though 
 obedience were due to him by all in Egypt as Pom an 
 consul. He at once demands an enormous sum of 
 money, which he claims as due to himself personally 
 for services rendered to a former Ptolemy; he takes 
 possession of the person of Ptolemy the young king,— 
 and is taken possession of by Cleopatra, the young king’s 
 sister, who was joint-heir with her brother to the throne. 
 In all his career there was perhaps nothing more auda¬ 
 cious than his conduct in Egypt. The Alexandrians, 
 or rather perhaps the Poman army in Egypt under the 
 leading of the young king’s satraps, rise against Caesar, 
 and he is compelled to fortify himself in the town. He 
 contrives, however, to burn all the Egyptian fleet, and 
 with it unfortunately the royal library, as we were told 
 by himself at the end of the last Commentary. He at 
 length allows Ptolemy to go, giving him back to the 
 Egyptians and thinking that the young king’s presence 
 
176 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 may serve to allay tlie enmity of the Alexandrians. 
 The young king wept at leaving Caesar, and declared 
 that even his own kingdom was not so dear to him as 
 the companionship of Caesar. But the crafty false-faced 
 boy turns against Caesar as soon as he is free to do so. 
 Caesar never was in greater danger; and as one reads 
 one feels one’s self to he deprived of the right to say that 
 no more insane thing was ever done than Caesar did 
 when he swaggered into Alexandria without an army 
 at his back,—only by the remembrance that Caesar was 
 Caesar. First, because he wanted some ready money, 
 and secondly, because Cleopatra was pretty, Caesar nearly 
 lost the world in Egypt. 
 
 But there comes to his help a barbarian ally,—a 
 certain Mithridates of Pergamus, a putative son of the 
 great Mithridates of Pontus. Mithridates brings an 
 army to Caesar’s rescue, and does rescue him. A great 
 battle is fought on the Hile,—a battle which would have 
 been impossible to Caesar had not Mithridates come to 
 his aid,—and the Egyptians are utterly dispersed. Young 
 Ptolemy is drowned; Cleopatra is settled on her throne; 
 and Egypt becomes subject to Caesar. Then Caesar 
 hurries into Asia, finding it necessary to quell the arro¬ 
 gance of a barbarian who had dared to defeat a Roman 
 general. The unfortunate conqueror is Pharnaces, the 
 undoubted son of Mithridates of Pontus. But Caesar 
 comes, and sees, and conquers. He engages Pharnaces 
 at Zela, and destroys his army ; and then, we are told, 
 inscribed upon his banners those insolent words— 
 “ Yeni, vidi, viei.” He had already been made Dicta¬ 
 tor of the Roman Empire for an entire year, and had 
 
CONCLUSION. 
 
 177 
 
 revelled with. Cleopatra at Alexandria, and was becom¬ 
 ing a monarch. 
 
 These were the campaigns of the year 47 B.a, and 
 the record of them is made in the Commentary “De 
 Bello Alexandrino.” 
 
 In the mean time things have not been going altogether 
 smoothly for Caesar in Italy, although his friends at 
 Borne have made him Dictator. His soldiers have mu¬ 
 tinied against their officers, and against his authority; 
 and a great company of Pompeians is collected in that 
 province of Africa in which poor Curio was conquered 
 by Juba,—when Juba had Bornan senators walking 
 in his train, and Caesar’s army was destroyed. The 
 province called by the name of Africa lay just opposite 
 to Sicily, and was blessed with that Boman civilisation 
 which belonged to the possessions of the Bepublic 
 which were nearest to Borne, the great centre of 
 all things. It is now the stronghold of the Bepubli- 
 can faction,—as being the one spot of Boman ground in 
 which Caesar had failed of success. Pompey, indeed, is 
 no more, but Pompey’s two sons are here,—and Scipio, 
 I'ompey’s father-in-law, whom Pompey had joined with 
 himself in the command at Pharsalus. Labienus is 
 here, who, since he turned from Caesar, has been more 
 Pompeian than Pompey himself; and Afranius, to 
 whom Caesar was so kind in Spain; and Petreius and 
 King Juba,—of whom a joint story has yet to be told; 
 and Varus, who held the province against Curio;—and 
 last of all there is that tower of strength, the great Cato, 
 the most virtuous and impracticable of men, who, 
 in spite of his virtue, is always in the wrong, and of 
 
 a. o. vok iv. m 
 
178 
 
 CON CL USION. 
 
 whom the world at large only remembers that he was 
 fond of wine, and that he destroyed himself at Utica. 
 
 They are all at Utica,—and to them for the present 
 Utica is Rome. They establish a Senate; and Scipio, 
 who is unworthy of the great name he bears, and is in¬ 
 competent as a general, is made commander-in-chief, 
 because Cato decides that law and routine so require. 
 Scipio had been consul,—had been joint commander 
 with Pompey,—and his rank is the highest. The same 
 argument had been used when he was joined in that 
 command,—that it was fitting that such power should 
 be given to him because he was of consular rank. The 
 command of the Republican fleet had been intrusted 
 to Bibulus on the same ground. We never hear of 
 Caesar so bestowing promotion. He indeed is now and 
 again led away by another fault, trusting men simply 
 because he loves them,—by what we may call favourit¬ 
 ism,—as he did when he allowed Curio to lose his army 
 in Africa, and thus occasioned all this subsequent 
 trouble. As we read of Scipio’s rank we remember that 
 we have heard of similar cause for ill-judged promo¬ 
 tion in later times. The Pompeians, however, collect 
 an enormous army. They have ten Roman legions, 
 and are supported, moreover, by the whole force of 
 King Juba. This army, we are told, is as numerous as 
 that which Pompey commanded at Pharsalus. There 
 is quarrelling among them for authority; quarrelling as 
 to strategy; jealousy as to the barbarian, with acknow¬ 
 ledged inability to act without him;—and the reader 
 feels that it is all in vain. Caesar comes, having quelled 
 the mutiny of his own old veterans in Italy by a few 
 
CONCLUSION. 
 
 179 
 
 words. He has gone among them fearing nothing; 
 they demand their discharge—he grants it. They 
 require the rewards which they think to he their due, 
 and he tells them that they shall have their money,— 
 when he has won it with other legions. Then he ad¬ 
 dresses them not as soldiers, hut as “ citizens ”—“ Qui- 
 ritesand that they cannot stand; it implies that 
 they are no longer the invincible soldiers of Caesar. 
 They rally round him ; the legions are re-formed, and 
 'he lands in Africa with a small army indeed,—at first 
 with little more than three thousand men,—and is again 
 nearly destroyed in the very first battle. But after a few 
 months campaigning the old story has to he told again. 
 A great battle is fought at Thapsus, a year and five 
 months after that of Pharsalia, and the Republic is 
 routed again and for ever. The commentator tells us 
 that on this occasion the ferocity of Caesar’s veterans 
 was so great, that by no entreaties, by no commands, 
 could they be induced to cease from the spilling of blood. 
 
 But of the destruction of the leaders separate stories 
 are told us. Of Cato is the first story, and that best 
 known to history. He finds himself obliged to sur¬ 
 render the town of Utica to Caesar; and then, “ he him¬ 
 self having carefully settled his own affairs, and having 
 commended his children to Lucius Caesar, who was 
 then acting with him as his quaestor, with his usual 
 gait and countenance, so as to cause no suspicion, he 
 took his sword with him into his bedroom when it was 
 his time to retire to rest,—and so killed himself.” 
 Scipio also killed himself. Afranius was killed by 
 Caesar’s soldiers. Labienus, and the two sons of Pom- 
 
180 
 
 CON CL USION. 
 
 pey, and Varus, escaped into Spain. Then comes the 
 story of King Juba and Petreius. Juba had collected 
 his wives and children, and all his wealth of gold and 
 jewels and rich apparel, into a town of his called Zama; 
 and there he had built a vast funeral-pile, on which, 
 in the event of his being conquered by Caesar, he in¬ 
 tended to perish,—meaning that his wives and children 
 and dependants and rich treasures should all be burned 
 with him. So, when he was defeated, he returned to 
 Zama; but his wives and children and dependants, 
 being less magnificently minded than their king, and 
 knowing his royal purpose, and being unwilling to 
 become ornaments to his euthanasia, would not let 
 him enter the place. Then he went to his old Eo- 
 man friend Petreius, and they two sat down together 
 to supper. Petreius was he who would not allow 
 Afranius to surrender to Caesar at Lerida. "When they 
 have supped, Juba proposes that they shall fight each 
 other, so that one at least may die gloriously. They 
 do fight, and Petreius is quickly killed. “ Juba being 
 the stronger, easily destroyed the weaker Petreius with 
 his sword.” Then the barbarian tried to kill himself; 
 but, failing, got a slave to finish the work. The battle 
 of Thapsus was fought, b.c. 47. IsTumidia is made a 
 province by Caesar, and so Africa is won. We may 
 say that the Eoman Eepublic died with Cato at Utica. 
 
 The Spanish war, which afforded matter for the last 
 Commentary, is a mere stamping out of the embers. 
 Caesar, after the affair in Africa, goes to Kome; and the 
 historian begins his chronicle by telling us that he is 
 detained there “ muneribus dandis,”—by the distribu- 
 
CONCLUSION. 
 
 181 
 
 tion of rewards,—keeping his promise, no doubt, to those 
 veterans wliom ho won hack to their military obedience 
 by calling them “ Quirites,” or Roman citizens.* The 
 sons of Pompey, Cnosus and Sextus, have collected to¬ 
 gether a great number of men to support their worn-out 
 cause, and we are told that in the battle of Munda 
 more than 30,000 men perished. But that was the 
 end of it. Labienus and Varus are killed; and the 
 historian tells us that a funeral was made for them. 
 One Scapula, of whom it is said that he was the pro¬ 
 moter of all this Spanish rebellion, eats his supper, has 
 himself anointed, and is killed on his funeral-pile. 
 C nag us, the elder son of Pompey, escapes wounded, 
 but at last is caught in a cave, and is killed. Sextus, 
 the younger, escapes, and becomes a leading rebel for 
 some years longer, till at last he also is killed by one 
 of Antony’s officers. 
 
 This Commentary is ended, or rather is brought to 
 an untimely close, in the middle of a speech which 
 Caesar makes to the inhabitants of Hipsala,—Seville,— 
 in which he tells them in strong language how well he 
 behaves to them, and how very badly they have be- 
 
 * Not in the Commentary, but elsewhere, we learn that lie 
 now triumphed four times, for four different victories, taking 
 care to claim none for any victory won over Roman soldiers. 
 On four different days he was carried through the city with his 
 legions and hiS spoils and his captives. His first triumph was 
 for the Gallic wars; and on that day Vercingetorix, the gallant 
 Gaul whom we remember, and who had now been six years in 
 prison, was strangled to do Caesar honour. I think we hate 
 Caesar the more for his cruelty to those who were not Romans, 
 because policy induced him to spare his countrymen. 
 
182 
 
 CON CL USION. 
 
 haved to him. But we reach an abrupt termination 
 in the middle of a sentence. 
 
 After the battle of Munda Csesar returned to Rome, 
 and enjoyed one year of magnificent splendour and 
 regal power in Rome. He is made Consul for ten years, 
 and Dictator for life. He is still high priest, and at 
 last is called King. He makes many laws, and perhaps 
 adds the crowning jewel to his imperishable diadem of 
 glory by reforming the calendar, and establishing a 
 proper rotation of months and days, so as to comprise 
 a properly-divided year. But as there is no Commen¬ 
 tary of this year of Caesar’s life, our readers will not 
 expect that we should treat of it here. How he was 
 struck to death by Brutus, Cassius, and the other con¬ 
 spirators, and fell at the foot of Pompey’s statue, gather¬ 
 ing his garments around him gracefully, with a policy 
 that was glorious and persistent to the last, is known 
 to all men and women. 
 
 “ Then burst his mighty heart; 
 
 And in his mantle muffling up his face, 
 
 Even at the base of Pompey’s statua, 
 
 Which all the while ran blood, Great Caesar fell.” 
 
 That he had done his work, and that he died in 
 time to save his name and fame from the evil deeds 
 of which unlimited power in the State would too 
 probably have caused the tyrant to he guilty, was 
 perhaps not the least fortunate circumstance in a career 
 which for good fortune has been unequalled in history. 
 
 THE END. 
 
Ancient Classics for English Readers 
 
 EDITED BY THE 
 
 REV. W. LUCAS COLLINS, M.A. 
 
 VIEGIL 
 
4 
 
 CONTENTS OF THE SERIES, 
 
 HOMER : THE ILIAD, . . . . By the Editor. 
 
 HOMER: THE ODYSSEY, . . By the Same. 
 
 HERODOTUS, ... By George C. Swayne, M.A. 
 
 CAESAR, .By Anthony Trollope. 
 
 VIRGIL, .By the Editor. 
 
 HORACE, .By Theodore Martin. 
 
 ^ESCHYLUS, By the Right Rev. the Bishop of Colombo. 
 XENOPHON, . . By Sir Alex. Grant, Bart., LL.D. 
 
 CICERO .By the Editor. 
 
 SOPHOCLES, ... By Clifton W. Collins, M.A. 
 PLINY, By A. Church, M.A., and W. J. Brodribb, M.A. 
 EURIPIDES. ... By William Bodham Donne. 
 JUVENAL, .... By Edward Walford, M.A. 
 
 ARISTOPHANES, .By the Editor. 
 
 HESIOD AND THEOGNIS, By the Rev. James Davies, M.A. 
 PLAUTUS AND TERENCE, ... By the Editor. 
 
 TACITUS, .... By William Bodham Donne. 
 
 LUCIAN, ..By the Editor. 
 
 PLATO, .By Clifton W. Collins. 
 
 THE GREEK ANTHOLOGY, ... By Lord Neaves. 
 
 LIVY .By the Editor. 
 
 OVID.By the Rev. A. Church, M.A. 
 
 CATULLUS, TIBULLUS, & PROPERTIUS, ByJ. Davies, M.A, 
 DEMOSTHENES, . • By the Rev. W. J. Brodribb, M.A. 
 
 ARISTOTLE,. . .By Sir Alex. Grant, Bart., LL.D. 
 
 THUCYDIDES, .By the Editor. 
 
 LUCRETIUS,* . . . . By W. H. Mallock, M.A. 
 PINDAR, ... By the Rev. F. D. Morice, M.A. 
 
VIRGIL 
 
 BY THE 
 
 REV. W. IUCAS COLLINS, M.A. 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 ‘btoniana/ ‘thb public schools/ bt« 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 
 J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY. 
 

 
 
 V 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAM 
 
 INTRODUCTION,.1 
 
 THE POET, ......... 3 
 
 THE PASTORALS, ........ 13 
 
 THE GEORGICS, ........ 28 
 
 THE ENEID,— 
 
 CHAP. I. THE SHIPWRECK ON THE COAST OF CARTHAGE, 41 
 ii II. ENEAS RELATES THE FALL OF TROY, . 53 
 
 ii III. ./ENEAS CONTINUES HIS NARRATIVE, . 64 
 
 ii IV. DIDO, . 71 
 
 ii V. THE FUNERAL GAMES, . . . .85 
 
 n VI. THE SIBYL AND THE SHADES, . . .105 
 
 it VII. THE TROJANS LAND IN LATIUM, 128 
 
 II VIII. THE MUSTER OF THE LATIN TRIBES, . 137 
 
 n IX. .ENEAS MAKES ALLIANCE WITH EVANDER, 145 
 II X. ■ TURNUS ATTACKS THE TROJAN ENCAMPMENT, 153 
 II XI. THE DEATH OF PALLAS, . . . .161 
 
 ii XII. THE DEATH OF CAMILLA, . . . 167 
 
 n XIII. THE LAST COMBAT,. 171 
 
 « XIV. CONCLUDING REMARKS, . . . .180 
 

 
 
 
 . 
 
 
INTBODUCTION. 
 
 Virgil lias always been, for one reason or other, the 
 most popular of all the old classical Avriters. His poems 
 were a favourite study with his own countrymen, even 
 in his own generation; within fifty years of his death 
 they were admitted to the very questionable honour, 
 which they have retained ever since, of serving as a 
 text-book for schoolboys. The little Romans studied 
 their Hineid, from their master’s dictation, as regularly, 
 and probably with quite as much appreciation of its 
 beauties, as the fourth form of an English public 
 school, and wrote “ declamations ” of some kind upon 
 its heroes. In the middle ages, when Greek literature 
 had become almost a deserted field, and Homer in the 
 original was a sealed book even to those who con¬ 
 sidered themselves and were considered scholars, Virgil 
 was still the favourite with young and old. The 
 monks in their chronicles, philosophers in their secu¬ 
 lar studies, enlivened their pages with quotations from 
 the one author with whom no man of letters would 
 venture to confess himself wholly unacquainted. The 
 a. c. vol. v. 
 
 A 
 
2 
 
 INTRODUCTION . 
 
 works of Virgil liad passed through, above forty edi¬ 
 tions in Europe before the first printed edition of 
 Homer appeared from the Florence press in 1448. He 
 has been translated, imitated, and parodied in all the 
 chief European languages. The fate of Dido, of Pal¬ 
 las, and of Euryalus, has drawn tears from successive 
 generations of which the poet never dreamed. 
 
 In the middle ages his fame underwent a singular 
 transformation. From the magic power of song the 
 transition seems incongruous to the coarser material 
 agency of the wizard. But so it was; Virgilius the 
 poet became, in mediaeval legends, Virgilius the magi¬ 
 cian. One of his Eclogues (the Eighth), in which are 
 introduced the magical charms by which it is sought to 
 reclaim a wandering lover, is supposed to have given 
 the first impulse to this superstitious belief. All kinds 
 of marvels Avere attributed to his agency. It Avas said 
 that he built at Eome, for the Emperor Augustus, a 
 wondrous toAver, in which A\ r ere set up emblematic 
 figures of all the subject nations Avhich acknoAvledged 
 the imperial rule, each with a bell in its hand, which 
 rang out whenever Avar or revolt broke out in that 
 particular province, so that Pome kneAV at once in 
 what direction to march her legions. In the same 
 building—so the legend ran—he contrived a magic 
 mirror, in Avhich the enemies of the Empire could be 
 seen Avhen they appeared in arms; and another—surely 
 the most terrible agency that was ever imagined in 
 the Avay of domestic police—in Avhich the guilt of any 
 Roman citizen could be at once seen and detected 
 A fount of perpetual fire, and salt-springs of medicinal 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 3 
 
 virtue, were said to have been tlie gifts of the great 
 enchanter to the Roman populace. At Naples the 
 marvels which were attributed to his agency were 
 scarcely less \ and even now there is scarcely any 
 useful or ornamental public work of early date, in the 
 neighbourhood of that city, which is not in some way 
 connected by vulgar tradition with the name of Virgil. 
 The wondrous powers thus ascribed to him were, ac¬ 
 cording to some legends, conferred upon him by Chiron 
 the learned centaur—by whom the great Achilles, and 
 the poet’s own hero, iEneas, were said to have been 
 educated; by others, with that blending of pagan be¬ 
 lief with Christian which is so commonly found in 
 mediaeval writers, they were referred to direct commu¬ 
 nication with the Evil One.* 
 
 French scholars have always had the highest ap¬ 
 preciation of the Augustan poet, and his popularity 
 
 * One story of this kind is perhaps curious enough for inser¬ 
 tion. Virgil is said to have been startled one day by a voice 
 calling to him out of a small hole in a cave. It proceeded 
 from an Evil Spirit who had been conjured into that place of 
 confinement, and who undertook to show Virgil certain books 
 of necromancy on condition of his release. The bargain was 
 made, and the condition fulfilled. “He stood before Virgil 
 like a mighty man, whereof Virgil was afraid ; and he marvel¬ 
 led greatly that so great a man might come out of so little a 
 hole. Then said Virgil, ‘ Should ye well pass through the hole 
 that ye came out of?’ And he sa"id, ‘Yes.’. ‘I hold the 
 best pledge that I have that ye cannot do it.’ The devill said, 
 
 ‘ I consent thereto.’ And then the devill wrang himself into 
 the little hole again. And when he was in, then Virgil closed 
 him there again, so that he had no power to come out again, 
 but there abideth still.”—[‘Of the Lyfe of Virgilius and hia 
 deth, and the many marvayles that he dyd.’] 
 
4 
 
 IN TR 0 DUCT I ON. 
 
 in England is to tliis day as great as ever. Even a 
 practical House of Commons, not always very patient 
 of argument, and notoriously impatient of some prosaic 
 speakers, will listen to a quotation from Virgil — 
 especially when pointed against a political opponent. 
 Those to whom his rolling measure is familiar still 
 quote him and cheer him so enthusiastically, that 
 others listen with more or less appreciation. To the 
 many who have almost forgotten what they once knew 
 of him, his lines awake reminiscences of their youth— 
 which are always pleasant: while even those to whom 
 he is a sound and nothing more, listen as with a kind 
 of sacred awe. The dehates of our reformed Parlia¬ 
 ment will certainly he duller, if ever Virgil comes to 
 he proscribed as an unknown tongue. 
 
 English translators of Virgil have abounded. But 
 the earliest and by no means the least able of those 
 who presented the Boman poet to our northern 
 islanders in their own vernacular w~as a Scotsman, 
 Bishop Gawain Douglas of Dunkeld, that clerkly 
 son of old Archibald “ Bell-the-Cat” whom Scott 
 names in his ‘ Marmion.’ Eew modern readers of 
 Virgil are likely to be proficients in the ancient 
 northern dialect which the bishop used; but those 
 who can appreciate him maintain that there is con¬ 
 siderable vigour as well as faithfulness in his version. 
 Thomas Phaer, a Welsh physician, was the next 
 who made the attempt, in the- long verses known as 
 Alexandrine, in 1558. A few years later came forth 
 what might fairly be called the comic English version, 
 though undertaken in the most serious earnest by the 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 5 
 
 translator. This was Richard Stanyhurst, an Irish¬ 
 man, a graduate of Oxford and student of Lincoln’s 
 Inn. He seems to have heen the original prophet of 
 that “ pestilent heresy,” as Lord Derby calls it, the 
 making of English hexameters; for that was the metre 
 which he chose, and he congratulates himself in his pre¬ 
 face upon “ having no English writer before him in this 
 kind of poetry.” Without going so far as to endorse 
 Lord Derby’s severe judgment, it may he confessed that 
 Stanyhurst did his best to justify it. His translation, 
 which he ushered into public with the most profound 
 self-satisfaction, is quite curious enough to account for 
 its reprint by the “ Edinburgh Printing Society ” in 
 1836. One of the points upon which he prides him¬ 
 self is the suiting the sound to the sense, which Virgil 
 himself has done happily enough in some rare pas¬ 
 sages. So when he has to translate the line, 
 
 “ Exoritur clamorque virum clangorque tubarum ” 
 he does it as follows •— 
 
 “ The townsmen roared, the trump tara-tantara rattled.” 
 
 When he has to express the Cyclops forging the 
 thunderbolts, it is 
 
 u With peale meale ramping, with thick thwack sturdily 
 thund’ring;” 
 
 and very much more of the same kind. 
 
 The Earl of Surrey and James Harrington tried 
 their hand at detached portions, and although the 
 quaint conceits which were admired in their day have 
 little charm for the modern reader, there is not want- 
 
6 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 ing, especially in the former, a spirit and vigour in 
 which some of those who came before and after them 
 lamentably failed. The translations by Vicars and 
 Ogilby, about the middle of the seventeenth century, 
 have little claim to be remembered except as the first 
 presentations of the whole jEneid in an English poetical 
 dress. In dull mediocrity they are about equal. 
 
 In 1697, Dryden, at the age of sixty-six, finished 
 and published his translation; written, as he patheti¬ 
 cally says, “in his declining years, struggling with 
 want, and oppressed with sickness; ” yet, whatever 
 be its shortcomings, a confessedly great work, and 
 showing few traces of these unfavourable circum¬ 
 stances. His great renown, and the unquestionable 
 vigour and ability of the versification, insured its 
 popularity at once; and it was considered, by the 
 critics of his own and some succeeding generations, 
 as pre-eminently the English Virgil. Dr Johnson said 
 of it that “it satisfied his friends and silenced his 
 enemies.” It may still be read with pleasure, but it 
 has grave faults. Independently of its general loose¬ 
 ness and diffuseness, in many passages amounting to 
 the vaguest paraphrase, there are too many instances 
 in which, not content with making his author say a 
 good many things which he never did say, he palpably 
 misinterprets him. There are many passages of much 
 vigour and beauty ; but even of these it has been said, 
 and not unfairly, by a later translator, Dr Trapp, that 
 “where you most admire Dryden, you see the least of 
 Virgil.” Dryden had the advantage of consulting in 
 manuscript a translation by the Earl of Lauderdale 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 7 
 
 (afterwards published), which has considerable merit, 
 and to which in his preface he confesses obligations 
 “ not inconsiderable.” They were, in fact, so consider¬ 
 able as this, that besides other hints in the matter of 
 words and phrases, he borrowed nearly four hundred 
 lines in different places, with scarcely an attempt at 
 change. 
 
 Dry den was followed by various other translators 
 more or less successful. Pitt and Symmons, the latter 
 especially, might have earned a greater reputation had 
 they preceded instead of followed the great poet whose 
 laurels they plainly challenged by adopting his metre. 
 But the recent admirable translation of the iEneid into 
 the metre of Scott by Mr Conington will undoubtedly 
 take its place henceforward as by far the most poetical, 
 as it is also the most faithful and scholarly, rendering 
 of the original. 
 
THE POET 
 
 Publius Virgilius Maro —such was his full name, 
 though we have abbreviated the sounding Roman 
 appellatives into the curt English form of “Virgil”— 
 lived in the age when the great Roman Empire was 
 culminating to its fall, but as yet showed little symp¬ 
 tom of decay. The emperor under whom he was born 
 was that Octavianus Caesar, nephew of the great Julius, 
 whose title of “ Augustus ” gave a name to his own 
 times which has since passed into a common term for 
 the golden age of literature in every nation. In the 
 Augustan age of Rome rose and flourished, in rapid 
 succession, a large proportion of those great writers to 
 whoae works we have given the name of classics. This 
 brilliant summer-time of literature was owing to vari¬ 
 ous causes—to the increase of cultivation and refine 
 ment, to the leisure and quiet which followed after 
 long years of war and civil commotion; but in part 
 also it was owing to the character of the Roman 
 emperor himself. Both Augustus and his intimate 
 
THE POET. 
 
 9 
 
 friend and counsellor Maecenas were the professed 
 patrons of letters and of the fine arts. Maecenas was 
 of the highest patrician "blood of Rome. He claimed 
 descent from the old Etruscan kings or Lucumos—- 
 those ancient territorial chiefs who ruled Italy while 
 Rome was yet in her infancy, such as Lars Porsena of 
 Clusium. Clever and accomplished, an able statesman 
 in spite of all his indolence, Maecenas had immense 
 influence with Augustus. At his splendid palace on 
 the Esquiline Hill—the Holland House of the day— 
 met all the brilliant society of Rome, and his name 
 very soon became a synonym for a liberal patron of art 
 and literature. To he eminent in any branch of these 
 accomplishments was to insure the notice of the minis¬ 
 ter; and to be a protege of his was an introduction at 
 once, under the happiest auspices, to the emperor him¬ 
 self. Such good fortune occurred to Virgil early in 
 his life. 
 
 He was horn in the little village of Andes (probably 
 the modern Pietola), near Mantua, and received a 
 liberal education, as is sufficiently evident from the 
 many allusions in his poems. When grown to man¬ 
 hood, he seems to have lived for some years with 
 his father upon his modest -family estate. He 
 suffered, like very many of his countrymen — his 
 friend and fellow-poet Horace among the number— 
 from the results of the great civil wars which so long 
 desolated Italy, and which ended in the fall of the 
 Republic at the battle of Philippi. The district near 
 Mantua was assigned and parcelled out among the 
 legionaries who had fought for Antony and young 
 
10 
 
 THE POET. 
 
 Octavianus against Pompey. Cremona had espoused 
 the cause of the latter, and Mantua, as Virgil himself 
 tells us, suffered for the sins of its neighbour. His 
 little estate was confiscated, amongst others, to reward 
 the veterans who had claims on the gratitude of Octavia- 
 nus. But through the intercession of some powerful 
 friend who had influence with the young emperor— 
 probably Asinius Pollio, hereafter mentioned, who was 
 prefect of the province—they were soon restored to 
 him. This obligation Virgil never forgot; and 
 amongst the many of all ranks who poured their flat¬ 
 tery into the ears of Augustus (as Octavianus must 
 be henceforth called), perhaps that of the young 
 Mantuan poet, though bestowed with something of 
 a poet’s exaggeration, was amongst the most sincere. 
 The first of his Pastorals was written to express his 
 gratitude for the indulgence which had been granted 
 him. If the Caesar of the day was susceptible of 
 flattery, at least he liked it good of its kind. “ Stroke 
 him awkwardly,” said Horace, “and he winces like a 
 restive horse.” But the verse of the Mantuan poet 
 had the ring of poetry as well as compliment. 
 
 These Pastorals (to be more particularly noticed 
 hereafter) were his earliest work, composed, probably, 
 between his twenty-seventh and thirty-fourth year, 
 while he was still living a country life on his newly 
 recovered farm. They seem to have attracted the 
 favourable attention of Maecenas; and soon, among 
 the brilliant crowd of courtiers, statesmen, artists, 
 poets, and historians who thronged the audience- 
 chamber of the popular minister, might be seen the 
 
TEE POET. 
 
 11 
 
 tall, slouching, somewhat plebeian figure of the young 
 country poet.* He soon became a familiar guest 
 there; but although Augustus himself, half in jest, 
 was said to have spoken of his minister’s literary din¬ 
 ners as a “ table of parasites,” it is certain Virgil never 
 deserved the character. This intimacv with Maecenas 
 
 V 
 
 must have led to frequent and prolonged visits to 
 Rome; but his chief residence, after he left his Man¬ 
 tuan estate, seems to have been at Naples. It was at 
 the suggestion of this patron that he set about the 
 composition of his poem upon Roman agriculture and 
 stock-breeding—the four books of Georgies. His 
 greatest and best-known work—the Hhieid—was be¬ 
 gun in obedience to a hint thrown out by a still 
 higher authority, though he seems to have long had the 
 subject in his thoughts, and probably had begun to 
 put it into shape. Augustus had condescended to ask 
 the poet to undertake some grander theme than an ima¬ 
 ginary pastoral life or the management of the country 
 farm. The result was the iEneid, modelled upon the 
 two great poems of Homer—in fact, a Roman Iliad and 
 Odyssey combined in one. It was never completely 
 finished, for Virgil, whose health was at no time robust, 
 died before he had put in the finishing touches which 
 his fastidious taste required. It is even said that in 
 his last illness he would have burnt the copy, if his 
 friends would have allowed the sacrifice. It is hardly 
 
 * It lias been thought that the friend of whom Horace speaks 
 (Sat. I. 3, 31), under whose somewhat slovenly dress and rustic 
 bearing lay hid so much talent and worth, may have been 
 Virgil. 
 
12 
 
 THE POET. 
 
 probable, as a German scholar has ingeniously suggest¬ 
 ed, that it was because the cruelties of Augustus’s later 
 years made him rejDent of having immortalised a tyrant. 
 He died in his fifty-first year, at Brundusium, where 
 he had landed in the suite of the emperor, whom he 
 had met during a visit to Athens, and who brought 
 him back with him to Italy. He was buried, as was 
 the custom of the Romans, by the side of the public 
 road leading out of Naples to Puteoli; and the tomb 
 still shown to travellers, near Posilippo, as the last 
 resting-place of the poet, may at least mark the real 
 site. He died a comparatively rich man, possessed of 
 a town-house at Rome, near the palace of Maecenas, 
 with a good library. Living, as he did, in the highest 
 society of the capital, where he was very popular, he 
 never forgot his old friends ; and it is pleasant to read 
 that he sent money to his aged parents regularly every 
 year. So highly was he esteemed by his own co¬ 
 temporaries, that on one occasion when he visited the 
 theatre, the whole audience is said to have risen in a 
 body and saluted him with the same honours which 
 were paid to Augustus. He preserved to the last his 
 simple manners and somewhat rustic appearance; and 
 it is believed that his character, amongst all the pre 
 valent vices of Rome, remained free from reproach— 
 saving only that with which he was taunted by the 
 libertines of the capital, the reproach of personal purity. 
 It is as much to his honour that Caligula should have 
 ordered all his busts to be banished from the public 
 libraries, as that St Augustin should have quoted him 
 alone of heathen authors, in his celebrated ‘Confessions.* 
 
THE PASTORALS. 
 
 The earliest written poems of Virgil, as lias been 
 said, were liis Pastorals. Of these we have ten 
 remaining, sometimes called “ Bucolics ”—?'. e., Songs 
 of the Herdsmen—and sometimes “Eclogues,” as 
 being “ selections ” from a larger number of similar 
 compositions which the poet either never made public, 
 or which at least are lost to us. The actual subjects 
 of these poems are various, but they are usually intro¬ 
 duced in the way of imaginary dialogue between Greek 
 shepherds, keeping their flocks and herds at pasture 
 in some imaginary woodland country, which the poet 
 peoples with inhabitants and supplies with scenery at 
 his will; mixing up, as poets only may, the features of 
 his own Italian landscape with those of Sicily, bor¬ 
 rowed, with much besides, from the Idylls of Theoc¬ 
 ritus, and with reminiscences of the Greek Arcadia. 
 That pastoral faery-land, in which shepherds lay all 
 day under beech-trees, playing on their pipes, either 
 in rivalr} r for a musical prize or composing monodies 
 on their lost loves, surely never existed in fact, how- 
 
14 
 
 TEE PASTORALS. 
 
 ever familiar to us in the language of ancient and 
 modern poets. Such shepherds are as unreal as the 
 satyrs and fauns and dryad-nymphs with whom a 
 fanciful mythology had peopled the same region, and 
 who are not unfrequently introduced by the pastoral 
 poets in the company of their human dramatis per- 
 sonce. The Arcadia of history was a rich and fertile 
 district, well wooded and watered, and as prosaic as 
 one of our own midland counties. Like them, if it 
 had any reputation at all beyond that of being excel¬ 
 lent pasture-ground, it was a reputation for dulness. 
 It was celebrated for its breed of asses, and some of 
 the qualities of the animal seem to have been shared 
 by the natives themselves. “A slip of Arcadia” 
 passed into a proverbial nickname for a boy who was 
 the despair of his schoolmaster. The Arcadia of the 
 poets and romance-writers, from classical times down 
 to our own Spenser and Sir Philip Sidney, was, as Mr 
 Conington says, “the poets’ golden land, in which 
 imagination found a refuge from the harsh prosaic life 
 of the present.” This literary fancy enjoyed a remark¬ 
 able popularity from the early days of authorship down 
 to a very recent date. Thyrsis and Amaryllis, Daph- 
 nis and Corydon, have had a continued poetical exist¬ 
 ence of something like fifteen hundred years, and talk 
 very much the same language in the Pastorals of Popo 
 that they did in the Greek Idylls. It is curious, also, 
 that when society itself has been most artificial, this af¬ 
 fectation of pastoral simplicity seems to have been most in 
 vogue. It was the effeminate courtiers of Augustus who 
 lavished their applause and rewards upon Virgil when 
 
THE PASTORALS. 
 
 15 
 
 he read to them these lays of an imaginary shepherd- 
 life ; how Galatasa was won by a present of a pair of 
 wood-pigeons or a basket of apples, and how Meliboeus 
 thankfully went to supper with his friend Tityrus on 
 roasted chestnuts and goat-milk cheese. Society in 
 England had never less of the reality of pastoral sim¬ 
 plicity than in the days when nearly every fine lady 
 chose to be painted with a lamb or a crook—when the 
 “bucolic cant,” as Warton contemptuously terms it, 
 was the fashionable folly of the day. So when aris¬ 
 tocratic life in France had reached a phase of corrup 
 tion which was only to be purged by a revolution, 
 Queen Marie Antoinette, with her ladies and gentle 
 men in waiting, were going about the farm at Trianon 
 with crooks in their hands, playing at shepherds 
 and shepherdesses, on the brink of that terrible 
 volcano. 
 
 Of the ten Eclogues, the majority take the form of 
 pastoral dialogue. Frequently it is a singing-match 
 between two rival shepherds—not always conducted 
 in the most amicable fashion, or with the most scrupu¬ 
 lous delicacy in the matter of repartee, the poetical 
 “Arcadian” being in this point a pretty faithful copy 
 from nature. Most of the names, as well as of the 
 subjects and imagery, are taken, as has been said, from 
 the Greek Idylls of Theocritus. So closely has Virgil 
 copied his model that he even transplants the natural 
 scenery of Sicily, employed by Theocritus, to his pas¬ 
 toral dreamland, which otherwise would seem to be 
 localised on the banks of the Mincio, in tho neigh¬ 
 bourhood of his native Mantua. This gives him an 
 
16 
 
 THE PASTORALS. 
 
 opportunity of touching upon subjects of the day, and 
 introducing, in the name and guise of shepherds, him¬ 
 self and his friends. Sometimes we can see through 
 the disguise by the heljr of contemporary Koman history; 
 more often, probably, the clue is lost to us through our 
 very'imperfect .modern knowledge. We know pretty 
 well that Tityrus,—who in the First Eclogue expresses 
 his gratitude to the “ godlike youth ” who has pre¬ 
 served his little farm from the ruthless hands of the 
 soldier colonists, while his poor neighbour Meliboeus 
 has lost his all,—can be no other than the poet him¬ 
 self, who thus compliments his powerful protector. So, 
 too, in a later Eclogue, when the slave Moeris meets 
 his neighbour Lycidas on the road, and tells him how 
 his master has been dispossessed of his farm by the 
 military colonists, and has narrowly escaped with his 
 life, we may safely trust the traditional explanation, 
 that in the master Menalcas-we have Yirgil again, 
 troubled a second time by these intruders, and com¬ 
 pelled to renew his application to his great friend at 
 Home. The traditional story was, that the poet was 
 obliged to take refuge from the violence of the sol¬ 
 diers in the shop of a charcoal-burner, who let him 
 out at a back-door, and eventually had to throw 
 himself into the river Mincio to escape their pursuit. 
 Lycidas, in the Pastoral, is surprised to hear of his 
 neighbour’s new trouble. 
 
 u Lyc.—I surely heard, that all from where yon lulls 
 Begin to rise, and gently slope again 
 Down to the stream, where the old beech-trees 
 throw 
 
THE PASTORALS. 
 
 17 
 
 Their ragged time-worn tops against the sky,* 
 Your poet-master had redeemed by song. 
 
 Mcer. —You heard, no doubt—and so the story went; 
 
 But song, good Lycidas, avails as much, 
 
 When swords are drawn, as might the trembling 
 dove 
 
 When on Dodona swoops the eagle down. 
 
 Nay—had I not been warned of woes to come— 
 Warned by a raven’s croak on my left hand 
 From out the hollow oak—why then, my friend, 
 You had lost your Moeris and his master too.” 
 
 Honest Lycidas expresses his horror at the narrow 
 escape of the neighbourhood from such a catastrophe. 
 What should they all have done for a poet, if they 
 had lost Menalcas 1 who could compose such songs— 
 and who could sing them 1 And he breaks out himself 
 into fragmentary reminiscences which he has picked 
 up by ear from his friend. Then Moeris too—who, 
 being a poet’s farm-servant, has caught a little of the 
 inspiration—repeats a few lines of his master’s. “ As 
 you hope for any blessings,” says Lycidas, “ let me 
 hear the rest of it.” 
 
 “ So may your bees avoid the poisonous yew— 
 
 So may your cows bring full-swoln udders home— 
 
 If canst remember aught, begin at once. I too, 
 
 I am a poet, by the Muses’ grace: some songs 
 I have, mine own composing ; and the swains 
 Call me their bard—but I were weak to heed them. 
 
 I cannot vie with masters of the art 
 
 * It is not difficult to believe that in the old time-worn 
 beeches overhanging the stream we have the actual landscape 
 of the poet’s farm. 
 
 a. o. yoL y. B 
 
18 
 
 THE PASTORALS. 
 
 Like Varius or like Cinna ; my poor Muse 
 Is but a goose among the tuneful swans.” 
 
 Moeris can remember a scrap or two of his master’s 
 verses. There was one in particular, which Lycidas 
 had heard him singing one moonlight night, and would 
 much like to hear again ;—“ I can remember the tune 
 myself,” he says, “ but I have forgotten the words.” 
 Moeris will try. The compliment to Augustus with 
 which the strain begins sufficiently marks the real 
 poet who here figures as Menalcas. 
 
 “ Why, Daphnis, why dost watch the constellations 
 Of the old order, now the new is bom ? 
 
 Lo ! a new star comes forth to glad the nations, 
 
 Star of the Caesars, filling full the corn.” * 
 
 But Moeris cannot remember much more. They must 
 both wait, he says, until his master comes home again. 
 So the pair walk on together towards Borne, cheating 
 the long journey with singing as they go; and thus 
 closes this pretty pastoral dialogue, the graceful ease 
 of which, with its subdued comedy, it would be im¬ 
 possible for any translator to render adequately. 
 
 Another of these Eclogues relates the capture of 
 Silenus, one of the old rural deities of very jovial re¬ 
 putation, by two young shepherds, while he lay sleep¬ 
 ing off the effect of yesterday’s debauch. He is com- 
 
 * Probably the comet which appeared after Julius Ckesar’s 
 death, and which the poet takes to announce a new era of 
 peace and happiness for Rome. The English reader may re¬ 
 member that a new star was said to have appeared at the ac¬ 
 cession of Charles II., from which equally happy auguries were 
 drawn—and were equally disappointed. 
 
THE PASTORALS. 
 
 19 
 
 monly represented—and lie was ratlier a favourite 
 subject with ancient artists—as a corpulent bald-headed 
 old man, riding upon an ass, in a state of evident in¬ 
 ebriety, carrying a capacious leather wine-bottle, and 
 led and followed by a company of Nymphs and 
 Bacchanals. He had the reputation, like the sea-god 
 Proteus, of knowing the mysteries of nature and the 
 secrets of the future; and there was a current story, 
 upon which this Pastoral is founded, of his having 
 been caught while asleep, like him, by some shep¬ 
 herds in Phrygia, and carried to King Midas, to 
 whom, as the price of his release, he answered all ques¬ 
 tions in natural philosophy and ancient history—just 
 as Proteus unfolded to Menelaus, under similar com¬ 
 pulsion, the secret of his future fate. 
 
 The Pastoral into which Yirgil introduces this story 
 is addressed to his friend Varus—a man evidently of 
 high rank—and seems meant as an apology for not 
 complying with his request to write a poem on his 
 exploits. 
 
 “ I thought to sing how heroes fought and bled, 
 
 But that Apollo pinched my ear, and said— 
 
 ‘ Shepherds, friend Tityrus, I would have you know, 
 Feed their sheep high, and keep their verses low.* ” 
 
 Then he goes on to tell his story :— 
 
 “ Two shepherd-youths, the story runs, one day 
 Came on the cave where old Silenus ky; 
 
 Filled to the skin, as was his wont to be, 
 
 With last night’s wine, and sound asleep was he; 
 
 The garland from his head had fallen aside, 
 
 And his round bottle hanging near they spied. 
 
20 
 
 THE PASTORALS. 
 
 Now was their time—both had been cheated long 
 By the sly god with promise of a song; 
 
 They tied him fast—fit bonds his garland made— 
 
 And lo ! a fair accomplice comes to aid : 
 
 Loveliest of Naiad-nymphs, and merriest too, 
 iEglk * did what they scarce had dared to do ; 
 
 Just as the god unclosed his sleepy eyes, 
 
 She daubed his face with blood of mulberries. 
 
 He saw their joke, and laughed—‘ Now loose me, lad ! 
 Enough—you’ve caught me—tying is too bad. 
 
 A song you want ?—Here goes. For iEglfe, mind, 
 
 I warrant me I’ll pay her out in kind. 
 
 So he began. The listening Fauns drew near, 
 
 The beasts beat time, the stout oaks danced to hear. 
 
 So joys Parnassus when Apollo sings— 
 
 So through the dancing hills the lyre of Orpheus rings.” 
 
 Silenus’s strain is a poetical lecture on natural philo¬ 
 sophy. He is as didactic in his waking soberness as 
 some of his disciples are in their cups. He describes 
 how the world sprang from the four original elements, 
 and narrates the old fables of the cosmogonists—the 
 Deluge of Deucalion, the new race of men who sprang 
 from the stones which he and Pyrrha cast behind 
 them, the golden reign of Saturn, the theft of fire by 
 Prometheus, and a long series of other legends, with 
 which he charms his listeners until the falling shadows 
 warn them to count their flocks, and the evening-stai 
 comes out, as the poet phrases it, “ over the unwilling 
 heights of Olympus ”—loath yet to lose the fascinating 
 strain. 
 
 Besides this Pastoral addressed to Yarns, there are 
 * Anglicl, “ Bright-eyes.” 
 
TEE “POLLIO 
 
 21 
 
 three inscribed to other friends: one to Cornelius 
 Gallus, and two to Caius Asinius Pollio, who was 
 among the most eminent men of his day alike as a 
 statesman, an orator, and a man of letters, and at that 
 time held the high office of consul at Rome. He had 
 been the friend of the great Julius, as he was after¬ 
 wards of his nephew Octavianus (Augustus), and was 
 probably the person who preserved or restored to the 
 poet his country estate. The fourth in order of these 
 poems, commonly known as the “ Pollio,” is the most 
 celebrated of the whole series, and has given rise to a 
 great amount of speculation. Its exact date is known 
 from the record of Pollio’s consulship—40 before the 
 Christian era. Its subject is the expected birth of a 
 Child, in whom the golden age of innocence and happi¬ 
 ness should be restored, and who was to be the moral 
 regenerator of the world. The date of the poem itself, 
 approaching so closely the great Birth at Bethlehem— 
 the reference to the prophecy of the Cumaean Sibyl, 
 long supposed to be a voice from heathendom predic¬ 
 tive of the Jewish Messiah—and the remarkable 
 coincidence of the metaphorical terms employed by 
 the poet with the prophetical language of the Old 
 Testament, have led many to the pious belief that the 
 Roman poet did but put into shape those vague ex 
 pectations of a Great Deliverer which were current in 
 his day, and- which were to have a higher fulfilment 
 than he knew. The “ Pollio ” may be familiar to many 
 English readers who are unacquainted with the original 
 through Pope’s fine imitation of it in his poem of 
 u The Messiah,” first published anonymously in the 
 
22 
 
 THE PASTORALS. 
 
 1 Spectator.’* But as the Latin Eclogue itself is short, 
 it may he well to attempt a translation of it her$ 
 before remarking further upon its meaning. 
 
 < Muses of Sicily, lift me for once 
 To higher flight; our humble tamarisk groves 
 Delight not all; and though the fields and woods 
 Still bound my song, give me the skill to make 
 Fit music for a Roman consul’s ear. 
 
 “ Comes the Last Age, of which the Sibyl sang— 
 
 A new-born cycle of the rolling years ; 
 
 Justice returns to earth, the rule returns 
 
 Of good King Saturn ;—lo ! from the high heavens 
 
 Comes a new seed of men. Lucina chaste, 
 
 Speed the fair infant’s birth, with whom shall end 
 Our age of iron, and the golden prime 
 Of earth return; thine own Apollo’s reign 
 In him begins anew. This glorious age 
 Inaugurates, 0 Pollio, with thee ; 
 
 Thy consulship shall date the happy months ; 
 
 Under thine auspices the Child shall purge 
 Our guilt-stains out, and free the land from dread. 
 
 He with the gods and heroes like the gods 
 Shall hold familiar converse, and shall rule 
 With his great father’s spirit the peaceful world. 
 
 For thee, 0 Child, the earth untilled shall pour 
 Her early gifts,—the winding ivy’s wreath, 
 
 Smiling acanthus, and all flowers that blow. 
 
 She-goats undriven shall bring full udders home, 
 
 The herds no longer fear the lion’s spring ; 
 
 The ground beneath shall cradle thee in flowers, 
 
 The venomed snake shall die, the poisonous herb 
 Perish from out thy path, and leave the almond there. 
 
 “ But when with growing years the Child shall learn 
 The old heroic glories of his race, 
 
 * Ko. 378. 
 
THE “POLLTO." 
 
 23 
 
 And know wliat Honour means : then shall the plains 
 Glow with the yellow harvest silently, 
 
 The grape hang blushing from the tangled brier, 
 
 And the rough oak drip honey like a dew. 
 
 Yet shall some evil leaven of the old strain 
 Lurk still unpurged; still men shall tempt the deep 
 With restless oar, gird cities with new walls, 
 
 And cleave the soil with ploughshares; yet again 
 Another Argo bear her hero-crew, 
 
 Another Tiphys steer : still wars shall be, 
 
 A new Achilles for a second Troy. 
 
 “ So, when the years shall seal thy manhood’s strength, 
 The busy merchant shall forsake the seas— 
 
 Barter there shall not need; the soil shall bear 
 For all men’s use all products of all climes. 
 
 The glebe shall need no harrow, nor the vine 
 The searching knife, the oxen bear no yoke ; 
 
 The wool no longer shall be schooled to lie, 
 
 Dyed in false hues ; but, colouring as he feeds, 
 
 The ram himself in the rich pasture-lands 
 Shall wear a fleece now purple and now gold, 
 
 And the lambs grow in scarlet. So the Fates 
 Who know not change have bid their spindles run, 
 
 And weave for this blest age the web of doom. 
 
 “ Come, claim thine honours, for the time draws nigh, 
 Babe of immortal race, the wondrous seed of Jove ! 
 
 Lo, at thy coming how the starry spheres 
 Are moved to trembling, and the earth below, 
 
 And widespread seas, and the blue vault of heaven ! 
 How all things joy to greet the rising Age ! 
 
 If but my span of life be stretched to see 
 Thy birth, and breath remain to sing thy praise, 
 
 Not Thracian Orpheus should o’ermatch my strain, 
 
 Nor Linus,—though each parent helped the son, 
 
 Phoebus Apollo and the Muse of Song: 
 
 Though in Arcadia Pan my rival stood, 
 
THE PASTORALS. 
 
 24 
 
 His own Arcadia should pronounce for me. 
 
 How soon, fair infant, shall thy first smile greet 
 Thy happy mother, when the slow months crown 
 The heart-sick hopes that waited for thy birth ? 
 
 Smile then, O Babe ! so shall she smile on thee ; 
 
 The child on whom no parent’s smile hath beamed, 
 
 No god shall entertain, nor goddess love.” 
 
 It would be out of place here to discuss the various 
 conjectures of the learned as to who the Child was, to 
 whose birth the poet thus looks forward. Whether it 
 was a son of the Consul Pollio himself, who died in 
 his infancy; or the expected offspring of Augustus’s 
 marriage with Scribonia, which was, after all, a daugh¬ 
 ter—Julia—whose profligate life and unhappy death 
 were a sad contradiction of Virgil’s anticipations ; or a 
 child of Octavia, sister of Augustus;—which of these 
 it was, or whether it was any one of them, neither 
 ancient nor modern commentators have been able to 
 decide. “ It is not certain,” says Mr Conington, “ that 
 the child ever was born ; it is certain that, if born, he 
 did not become the regenerator of his time.” It is 
 possible, too, that the whole form of the poem may 
 be strictly imaginary—that the child had been born 
 already, long ago, and that it was no other than 
 Octavianus Caesar—and that Virgil does but use here 
 the licence of poetry to express his hopes of a golden 
 age that might follow the peace of Brundusium. And 
 as to how far this very remarkable poem may or may 
 not be regarded as one of what Archbishop Trench 
 has called “ the unconscious prophecies of heathen¬ 
 dom,” would be to open a field of inquiry of the 
 
THE “POLLIO." 
 
 25 
 
 highest interest indeed, but far too wide for these 
 pages. Yet it cannot be entirely passed over. 
 
 The Sibylline oracles, to which Virgil alludes in his 
 opening lines, whatever their original form, were so 
 garbled and interpolated, both in Christian and pre- 
 Christian times, that it is impossible now to know 
 what they did or did not contain. But they were 
 recognised, in the early Church — by the Emperor 
 Constantine, who is said to have attributed his own 
 conversion in great part to their study, and by St 
 Augustine, amongst others—as containing distinct pro 
 pliecies of the Messiah. The recognition of the Roman 
 Sibyl or Sibyls as bearing their testimony to the truth 
 of Christianity is still familiar to us in the ancient 
 hymn, “ Dies Ira3,”—so often translated— 
 
 “Teste David cum Sibylla 
 
 and in an old Latin mystery-play of the eleventh 
 century, when the witnesses are summoned to give 
 evidence as to the Nativity, there appear among them, 
 in company with the Hebrew prophets, Yirgil and 
 the Sibyl, who both join in a general “ Benedicanms 
 Domino ” at the end. St Augustine quotes twenty- 
 seven Latin verses (which, however, seem very frag¬ 
 mentary and unconnected) as actual utterances of the 
 Sibyl of Erythrae, which contain prophecies, more or 
 less clear, of the great Advent. The original, he says, 
 was in Greek, and the initial letters of each verse 
 formed a sentence, “Jesus Christ the Son of God the 
 Saviour.”* Whatever truth there may be in any 
 
 * IH20T2 XPEI2T02 ©EOT TIQ2 2HTHP. He also quotes 
 
20 
 
 TIIE PASTORALS. 
 
 special predictions ol this nature as existing in the 
 heathen world, it is at least certain that there pre¬ 
 vailed very largely, about the date of the Christian era, 
 a vague expectation of some personal advent which 
 should in some way regenerate society. 
 
 The new “cycle of centuries,” which the poet sup¬ 
 poses to begin with the birth of the Child, refers to 
 the doctrine held by Plato and his disciples (possibly 
 of Etruscan origin) of an “Annus Magnus,” or Great 
 Year. It was believed that there were certain recur¬ 
 ring periods at long intervals, in which the history of 
 the world repeated itself.* A curious story in illus¬ 
 tration of this belief is told by Plutarch in his life of 
 Sulla. 
 
 “ While the horizon was clear and cloudless, there was 
 heard suddenly the sound of a trumpet, shrill, prolonged, 
 and as it were wailing, so that all men were startled and 
 awed by its loudness. The Etruscan soothsayers declared 
 that it foreboded the coming of a new generation and the 
 revolution of the world. For that there were eight genera¬ 
 tions of man in all, differing from each other in habits and 
 ways of life, and each had its allotted space of time, when 
 heaven brought round again the recurrence of the Great 
 Year, and that when the end of one and the rise of another 
 was at hand, some wondrous sign appeared in earth or 
 heaven.” —Plutarch. Sulla, c. 7. 
 
 Enough has perhaps been, said to give some idea of 
 the genius and character of Virgil’s pastoral poetry. 
 
 other “Sibylline” verses from the Greek of Lactantius, refer¬ 
 ring to the crucifixion.—De Civ. Dei, xviii. 23. 
 
 * The duration is variously estimated— from 2489 to 18,000 
 years. See Conington’s note. 
 
TllE PASTOR A LS. 
 
 27 
 
 It laid the foundation of a taste which was long pre¬ 
 valent in European literature, but which may be said 
 to have now become obsolete. English poets were at 
 one time strongly imbued with it. Spenser, Milton, 
 Drayton, Pope, and Ambrose Phillips,—the last per¬ 
 haps the most successfid,—were all m)re or less 
 imitators of Virgil in this line of poetry. But it 
 would seem to require a more than ordinary revolution 
 in literature ever to bring such a style into popularity 
 again. 
 
THE GEORGICS. 
 
 The Georgies of Virgil, like his Pastorals, are a 
 direct and confessed imitation from Greek originals. 
 The poem of Hesiod—“Works and Days”—which 
 has come down to us, though apparently in an incom¬ 
 plete form, gives a mythological sketch of the early 
 history of the world, with its five ages of the human 
 race—the gold, the silver, the brazen, “ the age of 
 heroes,” and the present—which last, with the cyni¬ 
 cism or melancholy which seems so inseparable from 
 the poetic temperament, Hesiod looks upon as hope¬ 
 lessly degenerate, with the prospect of something even 
 worse to come. To this traditional cosmogony the 
 Greek poet adds directions as to farm operations in 
 their several seasons, and notes of lucky and unlucky 
 days. Virgi] has borrowed from him largely on these 
 two latter subjects. He is also considerably indebted 
 to other Greek writers less known to us, and in whose 
 case, therefore, his obligations are not so readily traced. 
 
 From his own countryman and immediate prede¬ 
 cessor, Lucretius, the author of the great didactic poem 
 
THE GEORG ICS. 
 
 29 
 
 “ On tlie Nature of Things,” he drew quite as largely, 
 but in another field. Virgil is said to have been born 
 on the very day of Lucretius’s death, and he had an 
 intense admiration for both his diction and his philo¬ 
 sophy. There are passages in Virgil’s writings which 
 would seem to show that his greatest ambition would 
 have been to have sung, like Lucretius, of the secrets 
 of nature, rather than either of heroic legends or of 
 country life. And here and there, throughout these 
 books of Georgies, wherever he has the opportunity, 
 he forgets the farmer in the natural philosopher, and 
 breaks off in the midst of some practical precepts to 
 indulge in speculations on the hidden causes of na¬ 
 ture’s operations, which would have sorely puzzled a 
 Roman country gentleman or his bailiff, if we could 
 suppose that the work was really composed with a 
 view to their practical instruction. 
 
 He addresses his poem to his noble patron Maecenas. 
 And amongst the long list of divine powers whom, 
 as the guardians of fields and flocks, he invokes to 
 aid his song, he introduces the present Autocrat of 
 Rome. 
 
 " Thou, Caesar, chief, where’er thy choice ordain, 
 
 To fix ’mid gods thy yet unchosen reign— 
 
 Wilt thou o’er cities stretch thy guardian sway, 
 
 While earth and all her realms thy nod obey ? 
 
 The world’s vast orb shall own tliy genial power, 
 Giver of fruits, fair sun, and favouring shower ; 
 
 Before thy altar grateful nations bow, 
 
 And with maternal myrtle wreathe thy brow. 
 
 O’er boundless ocean shall thy power prevail, 
 
 Thee her sole lord the world of waters hail 1 
 
30 
 
 THE GEORGICS. 
 
 Rule, where the sea remotest Thule laves, 
 
 While Tethys dowers thy bride with all her waves ? 
 Wilt thou ’mid Scorpius and the Virgin rise, 
 
 And, a new star, illume thy native skies ? 
 
 Scorpius, e’en now, each shrinking claw confines, 
 
 And more than half his heaven to thee resigns. 
 Where’er thy reign (for not if hell invite 
 To wield the sceptre of eternal night, 
 
 Ne’er would such lust of dire dominion move 
 Thee, Caesar, to resign the realm of Jove : 
 
 Though vaunting Greece extol th’ Elysian plain, 
 Whence weeping Ceres wooes her child in vain) 
 Breathe favouring gales, my course propitious guide, 
 O’er the rude swain’s uncertain path preside; 
 
 Now, now invoked, assert thy heavenly birth, 
 
 And learn to hear our prayers, a god on earth.” 
 
 —Sothebt. 
 
 The first book is devoted to the raising of corn croys. 
 The farmer is recommended to plough early, to plough 
 deep, and to plough four times over—advice in the 
 principles of which modern farmers would cordially 
 agree. The poet also recommends fallows at least every 
 other season, and not to take two corn crops in succes¬ 
 sive years. The Roman agriculturist had his pests of 
 the farm, and complained of them as loudly as his 
 modern fellows. The geese, and the cranes, and the 
 mice, and the small birds, vexed him all in turn; and 
 if he knew nothing of that distinctly English torment, 
 the couch-grass,—squitch,' twitch, or quitch, as it is 
 variously termed, which is said to spring up under the 
 national footstep wdierever it goes, whether at the 
 Cape or in Australia,—he had indigenous weeds of his 
 own which gave him equal trouble to get rid of. The 
 
THE GEORGIUS. 
 
 31 
 
 Roman plough seems to have been a cumbrous wooden 
 instrument, which would break the heart alike of man 
 and horse in these days; and its very elaborate de¬ 
 scription, in spite of the polished language of the 
 poet, would shock one of our modern implement- 
 manufacturers. He gives a few hints as to lucky and 
 unlucky days, and fuller directions for prognosticating 
 the weather from the various signs to be observed in 
 the sky, and in the behaviour of the animal world ; 
 and he closes this first division of his poem, as he 
 began it, with an apostrophe to Caesar as the hope of 
 Rome and Italy. It is one of the finest passages 
 in the Georgies, and will bear translation as well 
 as most. Dryden’s version is spirited enough, and 
 though diffuse, presents the sense fairly to an English 
 ear:— 
 
 “Ye home-born deities, of mortal birth ! 
 
 Thou, father Romulus, and mother Earth, 
 
 Goddess unmoved ! whose guardian arms extend 
 O’er Tuscan Tiber’s course, and Roman towers defend; 
 With youthful Caesar your joint powers engage, 
 
 Nor hinder him to save the sinking age. 
 
 0 ! let the blood already spilt atone 
 For the past crimes of curst Laomedon ! 
 
 Heaven wants thee there; and long the gods, we know, 
 Have grudged thee, Caesar, to the world below; 
 
 Where fraud and rapine right and wrong confound; 
 Where impious arms from every part resound, 
 
 And monstrous crimes in every shape are crowned. 
 
 The peaceful peasant to the wars is prest • 
 
 The fields lie fallow in inglorious rest : 
 
 The plain no pasture to the fiock affords, 
 
 The crooked scythes are straightened into swords: 
 
32 
 
 THE GEORG ICS. 
 
 And there Euphrates her soft offspring arms, 
 
 And here the Rhine rebellows with alarms ; 
 
 The neighbouring cities range on several sides, 
 Perfidious Mars long-plighted leagues divides, 
 
 And o’er the wasted world in triumph rides. 
 
 So four fierce coursers, starting to the race, 
 
 Scour through the plain, and lengthen every pace : 
 
 Nor reins, nor curbs, nor threat’ning cries they fear, 
 
 But force along the trembling charioteer.” 
 
 The Second Georgic treats of the orchard and the 
 vineyard, but especially of the latter. The apple, the 
 pear, the olive, all receive due notice from the poet; 
 but upon the culture of the vine he dwells with a 
 hearty enthusiasm, and his precepts have a more prac¬ 
 tical air than those which he gives out upon other 
 branches of cultivation. The soil, the site, the best 
 hinds to choose, the different modes of propagation, 
 are all discussed with considerable minuteness. It 
 would seem that in those earlier times, as now, the 
 vintage had a more poetical aspect than even the 
 harvest-field. The beauty of the crop, the merriment 
 of the gatherers, the genial effects of the grape when it 
 has gone through the usual process of conversion, gave, 
 as is still the case in all wine-producing countries, 
 a holiday character to the whole course of cultivation. 
 All other important crops contribute in some way to 
 supply the actual needs of life : the vine alone repre¬ 
 sents distinctly its enjoyments. And when, at the 
 beginning of the book, the poet invokes the god of 
 \v ine to inspire his song, he does it with a thorough 
 heartiness of welcome which assures us that, however 
 temperate his own habits might be, he had not 
 
THE GEORGICS. 
 
 33 
 
 adopted any vow of total abstinence. Some of the 
 ancient critics are said to have detected in Homer a 
 taste for joviality, because in his verse he had always 
 a kindly word for “ the dark red wine : ” they might 
 have said the same of the writer of the Georgies. It 
 is a cordial invitation which he gives to the jolly god:— 
 
 “ Come, Father Bacchus, come ! thy bounty fills 
 All things around ; for thee the autumn hills, 
 
 Heavy with fruit, blush through their greenery; 
 
 In the full vats the vintage foams for thee : 
 
 Come, Father Bacchus, come ! nor yet refuse 
 To doff thy buskins, and with noble juice 
 To stain thy limbs, and tread the grapes with me.” 
 
 But although the poet makes the labours of the 
 gardener and the vine-dresser the burden of his song, 
 his most brilliant passages, and those best known and 
 remembered, are the frequent digressions in which he 
 breaks away from the lower ground of horticultural 
 details into a higher poetical atmosphere. One of the 
 most beautiful is his apostrophe to Italy in this second 
 book:— 
 
 “ Colchian bulls with fiery nostrils never turned Italian field, 
 Seed of hydra’s teeth ne’er sprang in bristling crop of spear 
 and shield; 
 
 But thy slopes with heavy corn-stalks and the Massic vine 
 are clad, 
 
 There the olive-groves are greenest, and the full-fed herds 
 are glad.' 
 
 In thy plains is bred the war-horse, tossing high its crest 
 of pride ; 
 
 Milk-white herds, 0 fair Clitumnus, bathe them in thy 
 sacred tide— 
 
 A. c. vol. v. 
 
 0 
 
34 
 
 THE GEORG ICS. 
 
 Mighty hulls to crown the altars, or to draw the conqueror^ 
 car 
 
 Up the Sacred Way in triumph when he rideth from the war 
 
 Here the spring is longest, summer borrows months be- 
 yond her own; 
 
 Twice the teeming flocks are fruitful, twice the laden or¬ 
 chards groan. 
 
 In thy plains no tigers wander, nor the lions nurse their 
 young; 
 
 Evil root of treacherous poison doth no wretched gatherer 
 wrong, 
 
 Never serpent rears its crest, or drags its monstrous coils 
 along. 
 
 Lo ! where rise thy noble cities, giant works of men of old, 
 
 Towns on beetling crags piled heavenward by the hands of 
 builders bold— 
 
 Antique towers round whose foundations still the grand old 
 rivers glide, 
 
 And the double sea that girds thee like a fence on either side. 
 • •••«• 
 
 Such the land which sent to battle Marsian footmen stout 
 and good, 
 
 Sabine youth, and Volscian spearmen, and Liguria’s hardy 
 brood; 
 
 Hence have sprung our Decii, Marii, mighty names which 
 all men bless, 
 
 Great Cainillus, kinsmen Scipios, sternest men in battle’s 
 press ! 
 
 Hence hast thou too sprung, great Ccesar, whom the farth¬ 
 est East doth fear, 
 
 So that Mede nor swarthy Indian to our Roman lines come 
 near! 
 
 Hail, thou fair and fruitful mother, land of ancient Saturn, 
 hail! 
 
 Rich in crops and rich in heroes ! thus I dare to wake the 
 talc 
 
THE OEORGICS. 
 
 35 
 
 Of thine ancient laud and honour, opening founts that 
 slumbered long, 
 
 Rolling through our Roman towns the echoes of old 
 Hesiod’s song.” * 
 
 The Third Georgic treats of the herd and the stud. 
 The poet’s knowledge on these points must be 
 strongly suspected of being but second-hand—rather 
 the result of having studied some of the Roman 
 “ Books of the Farm,” than the experience of a prac¬ 
 tical stock-breeder. Such a work was Varro’s ‘On 
 Rural Affairs,’ which Yirgil evidently followed as an 
 authority. From that source he drew, amongst other 
 precepts, the points of a good cow, which he lays 
 down in this formula :— 
 
 “ An ugly head, a well-fleshed neck, 
 
 Deep dewlaps falling from the chin, 
 
 Long in the flank, broad in the foot, 
 
 Rough hairy ears, and horns bent in.” 
 
 Such an animal would hardly win a prize from our 
 modern judges of stock. But Yirgil, be it remem¬ 
 bered, is giving instructions for selection with an eye 
 to breeding purposes exclusively; and an Italian cow 
 of the present day would not be considered by us a 
 handsome animal. Besides, the object of the Roman 
 breeder was to obtain animals which would be “ strong 
 to labour,”—good beasts under the yoke ; not such as 
 would lay on the greatest weight of flesh at the least 
 
 * This fine passage—much of the beauty of which is necessarily 
 lost in this attempt at a translation—has been often imitated, 
 not least successfully by Thomson, in the eulogy upon his nativi 
 island with which he begins the fifth book of his poem on 
 
 “ Liberty.” 
 
J6 
 
 THE GEOROICS. 
 
 possible cost, for the purposes of the butcher. Hia 
 points of a good horse are entirely different, and 
 approach more nearly our own ideal—“ Fine in the 
 head, short in the barrel, broad on the back, full in 
 the chest.” Bay and dapple-grey he chooses for 
 colour ; white and chestnut he considers the worst, 
 lie had not reached the more catholic philosophy of 
 the modern horse-dealer, that “ no good horse was ever 
 yet of a bad colour.” 
 
 The nature of the subject in this Third Georgic allows 
 the poet to indulge even more frequently in digres¬ 
 sions. He gives a picture of pastoral life under the 
 hot suns of Numidia, where the herdsman or shepherd 
 drives his charge from pasture to pasture, carrying 
 with him all he wants, like a Boman soldier in a 
 campaign ; and again of his winter life in some vague 
 northern region which he calls by the general name of 
 Scythia, but where they seem to have drunk (in imita¬ 
 tion of wine, as the southern poet compassionately 
 phrases it) some kind of beer or cider. But the most 
 remarkable of these passages is that which closes the 
 book, and describes the ravages of some terrible 
 pestilence which, beginning with the flocks and herds, 
 extended at last to the wild beasts and to the birds, 
 and even to the fish. There is no historical account of 
 such a visitation in Italy; and it is very probable that 
 Virgil used his licence as a poet to embellish with 
 imaginary details some ordinary epidemic, in order to 
 present to his readers a companion picture to that of 
 the great plague at Athens, which had been so power¬ 
 fully described by his favourite model Lucretius. 
 
THE GEORG ICS. 
 
 37 
 
 There is no need to say very much about the 
 Fourth and last of the Georgies, which treats exclu¬ 
 sively of bees. These little creatures were evidently 
 of more importance in the rural economy of the 
 Romans than they commonly are in ours. Before 
 the discovery of the sugar-cane, the sweetening pro¬ 
 perties of honey would be much more valuable than 
 they are now ; and the inhabitants of a warm climate 
 like Italy make more use of saccharine matter, as an 
 article of ordinary food, than we do. But the habits 
 and natural history of the insect commonwealth to 
 which Virgil devotes this book are so curious and so 
 little understood, that they would only find an appro¬ 
 priate place in a special treatise. There appears to 
 have been no want of interest or research upon the 
 subject among the ancients, for the Greek philosopher 
 Aristomachus is said to have devoted fifty-eight years 
 to this single branch of zoology. Virgil certainly 
 would not help us much’in a scientific point of view. 
 The bees were mysteries to him, even more than to 
 us; and, marvellous as they are, he made them more 
 marvellous still. He was quite aware that they had 
 some peculiarities in the matter of sex; but he makes 
 the queen bee, who is really the mother of the swarm, 
 a king, and imagines that they pick up their young 
 ones from the leaves and flowers. He gives also— 
 and with an air of as much practical reality as can be 
 expected from a poet—minute instructions for obtaining 
 a stock of bees at once from the carcass of a steer, 
 beaten and crushed into a mass, and excluded from 
 air: evidently a misapplication of what is said to be a 
 
38 
 
 THE GE0RG1CS. 
 
 fact in natural history, that bees will take up their 
 quarters occasionally in the dead body of an animal. 
 The honey he considers to he some kind of dew that 
 falls from heaven. One rule which he gives for pre¬ 
 venting the young swarms from rising at undue times 
 has staggered some inexperienced commentators. He 
 advises the owner to pick out the queen bees, and 
 clip their wings. Such a recipe certainly suggests at 
 first sight the old preliminary caution—“First catch 
 your bee : ” but an experienced bee-keeper will find no 
 difficulty in performing such an operation, if needful.* 
 
 The fine episode with which this book concludes, 
 in which the poet relates the legend of Orpheus and 
 Eurydice, is more attractive than all his discourse upon 
 bee-keeping. 
 
 The Georgies have generally been considered as 
 the poet’s most complete work, and it is here, un¬ 
 doubtedly, that he shows us most of himself,—of his 
 habits, his tastes, and his religious opinions. They are 
 poetical essays on the dignity of labour. Warlike glory 
 was the popular theme of the day; but Yirgil detests 
 war, and he seeks to enthrone labour in its place. He 
 looks upon tillage as, in some sort, a war in itself, but 
 of a nobler kind—“ a holy war of men against the 
 earth,” as a French writer expresses it.t He com¬ 
 pares its details, in more than one passage, with those 
 
 * "When we find, in a modern manual, even directions “How 
 to tame vicious bees,” it is hard to say what a master of bee- 
 craft can not do. —See Mr Pettigrew’s clever and amusing 
 ‘ Handy Book.’ 
 
 + Jules Legris. 
 
THE GEORGICS. 
 
 39 
 
 of the camp and of the hattle-field. But besides this, 
 the Georgies contain what seems to be a protest against 
 the fashionable atheism of his age. He sets the wor¬ 
 ship of the gods in the first place of all. 
 
 “ First, pay all reverence to the Powers of heaven 
 
 is his instruction to his pupils—“ From Jove all things 
 begin.” His motto might have been that which the 
 Benedictines in their purer days adopted—“ Ora et 
 labora”—“Pray and work.” It has been commonly 
 said that Virgil was in his creed an Epicurean; that 
 he looked upon the gods as beings who, in our English 
 poet’s words, 
 
 “Lie beside their nectar, careless of mankind.” 
 
 But a study of his writings will go far to show that 
 such is not the case; that whatever the distinct 
 articles of his creed may have been, he had a deep 
 individual sense of the personal existence of great 
 powers which ruled the affairs of men; that Nature 
 was not to him, as to Lucretius, a mere shrine of hidden 
 mysteries, unlocked to the Epicurean alone, but that 
 he had an eye and a heart for all its riches and 
 beauties, as the “ skirts ” of a divine glory. In all 
 his verse this feeling shows itself, but nowhere more 
 plainly than in the Georgies. 
 
 It is said that this particular work was undertaken 
 by the desire of Maecenas, with the hope of turning the 
 minds of the veteran soldiers, to whom grants of land 
 had been made in return for their services, to a more 
 peaceful ambition in the quiet cultivation of tlieii 
 
40 
 
 THE OEOROICS . 
 
 farms. Whether it had that result may well he 
 doubted: the discharged soldier, however heartily he 
 might take to farming, would scarcely go to a poet as 
 his instructor. The practical influence of these treatises 
 in any way is equally doubtful. “ It would he absurd 
 to suppose,” says Dean Merivale, “ that Virgil’s verses 
 induced any Roman to put his hand to the plough, 
 or take from his bailiff the management of his own 
 estates; hut they served undoubtedly to revive some 
 of the simple tastes and sentiments of the olden time, 
 and perpetuated, amid the vices and corruptions of the 
 Empire, a pure stream of sober and innocent enjoy¬ 
 ment.” * 
 
 * ‘ Fall of Rome,’iv. 576. 
 
THE A E N E I D. 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 THE SHIPWRECK ON THE COAST OF CARTHAGE. 
 
 The H£neid, like the Iliad and Odyssey, is a Tale of 
 Troy. The fascination of that remarkable cycle of 
 legend had not weakened after the lapse of ten 
 centuries. Yirgil not only set himself deliberately to 
 imitate Homer in his method of poetical treatment, 
 but he goes to him for his subject. He even makes 
 his own poem, in some sort, a sequel to the Iliad—at 
 least as much so as the Odyssey is. As the subject 
 of this latter poem is the wanderings and final 
 establishment in his native country of the Greek hero 
 Ulysses after victory, so Yirgil gives us the story of 
 the escape of a Trojan hero from the ruin of his city, 
 and the perils by land and sea which he encountered, 
 until his final settlement in the distant west, in the 
 land which the gods had promised him. AEneas, 
 like Ulysses, is described as a man of many woes 
 and sufferings; and like him, though he has the 
 justice and the deliberate counsels of heaven all on 
 hip side, the enmity of one angry deity is permitted 
 
42 
 
 THE JENEID. 
 
 to vex and thwart him for many long years. This 
 /Eneas—reputed son of the goddess Yenus "by a 
 mortal husband, Anchises—had played no unimport¬ 
 ant part in the defence of Troy. Had we not been 
 told that King Priam had no less than fifty sons, it 
 might have been said that he stood very near the 
 throne. Por he was the representative of the younger 
 branch of the house of Dardanus—the family of 
 Assaracus—as Priam was of the elder branch, that of 
 IlusA A sort of half-mysterious glory is cast round 
 him in the Iliad. He is there addressed as “coun¬ 
 sellor of the Trojans;” they honoured him, we are 
 told, “equally with the godlike Hector;” and Hep- 
 tune is made to utter a prophecy that Jupiter has 
 rejected the house of Priam, but that “iEneas, and 
 his sons, and his sons’ sons” should hereafter reign over 
 the Trojans.” t Some Homeric critics have even fan¬ 
 cied that they detected, in some passages of Homer’s 
 poem, a jealousy between AEneas and the sons of Priam. 
 But this surely arises from reading Homer by the light 
 of Virgil, and thus anticipating the future turn of events, 
 when, after the death of Hector and the fall of Priam’s 
 kingdom, the prince of the house of Assaracus should 
 rebuild the Trojan fortunes on the far-off shores of Italy. 
 
 * Tlie following pedigree is mythical—as pedigrees often are: 
 
 Tros. 
 
 _ ! _ 
 
 i I 
 
 Ilus. Assaracus. 
 
 ! t 
 
 Laomedon. Capys. 
 
 Priam. Anchises. 
 
 jEneas. 
 
 t Iliad, xx. 306. 
 
SHIPWRECK ON THE COAST OF CARTHAGE. 43 
 
 Like Homer, Yirgil dashes at once into tlie heart of 
 his story. This is how he introduces his hero :— 
 
 “ Arms and the man I sing, who first, 
 
 By fate of Ilian realm amerced, 
 
 To fair Italia onward bore, 
 
 And landed on Lavinium’s shore.” * 
 
 He tells us nothing, however, for the present, of the 
 escape from Troy and the embarkation of the fugitives, 
 or of the guiding oracles in obedience to which they 
 had sailed forth in quest of this new home. He only 
 shows us HUneas on the sea, having just set sail from 
 Sicily, where the angry Queen of Heaven catches 
 sight of him. Juno, we must remember-—Yirgil, 
 apparently, has no idea that any one could need re¬ 
 minding of it—Juno has never forgotten or forgiven 
 that scene upon Mount Ida, where the Trojan Paris 
 preferred the fascinations—or the bribes—of Yenus to 
 her own stately charms. She had persuaded her royal 
 consort, the king of gods and men, to consent to the 
 downfall of the accursed race; and she persecutes this 
 unhappy remnant, now on its voyage, with unrelent¬ 
 ing hate. Even the poet, who makes use of her per¬ 
 secution as one of the mainsprings of his story, pro¬ 
 fesses his astonishment at its bitterness,— 
 
 Can such deep hate find place in breasts divine ?” f 
 
 * The extracts are in all cases (where not otherwise marked) 
 from Mr Conington’s translation, and are made with the per¬ 
 mission of his representatives and publishers. 
 
 + Milton has translated the line almost literally:— 
 
 “ In heavenly spirits could such perversion dwell ?” 
 
 —Par. Lost, vi. 
 
44 
 
 THE uENElD. 
 
 She had another reason, too, for her present jealous 
 feelings. The city of Carthage, where she was espe¬ 
 cially honoured, she had hoped to make the mistress 
 of the world. And now—so the inexorable Fates 
 have woven it in their web—this new brood from 
 Troy are to destroy it in the years to come. Rome, 
 and not Carthage, the Roman poet would thus convey 
 to his readers, is to have this universal empire. 
 
 But they have not reached Latium yet, these 
 hateful Trojans. They never shall. The Queen of 
 Heaven betakes herself to the King of the Winds, 
 where he sits enthroned in his Homeric island of 
 iEolia, controlling his boisterous subjects :— 
 
 “ They with the rock’s reverberant roar 
 Chafe blustering round their prison door: 
 
 He, throned on high, the sceptre sways, 
 
 Controls their moods, their wrath allays. 
 
 Break but that sceptre, sea and land 
 And heaven’s ethereal deep 
 Before them they would whirl like sand, 
 
 And through the void air sweep.” 
 
 At Juno’s request iEolus lets loose his prisoners. Out 
 rush the winds in mad delight. 
 
 “ All in a moment, sun and skies 
 Are blotted from the Trojans’ eyes : 
 
 Black night is brooding o’er the deep, 
 
 Sharp thunder peals, live lightnings leap: 
 
 The stoutest warrior holds his breath, 
 
 And looks as on the face of death. 
 
 At once iEneas thrilled with dread ; 
 
 Fdrth from his breast, with hands outspread. 
 These groaning words he drew: 
 
SHIPWRECK ON THE COAST OF CARTHAGE. 45 
 
 * 0 happy thrice, and yet again, 
 
 Who died at Troy like valiant men, 
 
 E’en in their parents’ view ! 
 
 O Diomed, first of Greeks in fray, 
 
 Why passed I not the plain that day, 
 
 Yielding my life to you, 
 
 Where, stretched beneath a Phrygian sky, 
 
 Fierce Hector, tall Sarpedon, lie : 
 
 Where Simois tumbles ’neath his wave 
 Shields, helms, and bodies of the brave ? ’ ” 
 
 The fleet is scattered in all directions : some ships are 
 cast on the rocks; one goes down with all its crew 
 before their leader’s eyes. But Neptune, the sea-god, 
 comes to the rescue. Friendly to the Trojans, as Juno is 
 hostile to them, he resents the interference of the King 
 of the Winds in his dominions—he knows by whose 
 instance he has dared this outrage. He summons the of¬ 
 fending winds, and chides them with stern authority :— 
 
 “ Back to your master instant flee, 
 
 And tell him, not to him but me 
 The imperial trident of the sea 
 Fell by the lot’s award ; 
 
 His is that prison-house of stone, 
 
 A prison, Eurus, all your own ; 
 
 There let him lord it to his mind, 
 
 The jailer-monarch of the wind, 
 
 But keep its portal barred.” 
 
 So the tempest is stilled, and H£neas, with seven 
 ships, the survivors of his fleet of twenty, runs into a 
 land-locked harbour on the coast of Carthage. The 
 crews light a fire, and grind and parch their corn, 
 while iEneas goes farther inland to reconnoitre, and 
 kills deer to mend their meal. Wine they have good 
 
46 
 
 THE MNEID. 
 
 store of—the parting gift from King Acestes, late tlieir 
 host in Sicily. The chief, though in sad anxiety as to 
 the fate of his absent comrades, speaks to the rest in 
 words of good cheer :— 
 
 “ Yo’i that have seen grim Scylla rave, 
 
 And heard her monsters yell,— 
 
 You that have looked upon the cave 
 Where savage Cyclops dwell,— 
 
 Come, cheer your souls, your fears forget; 
 
 This suffering may yield us yet 
 A pleasant tale to tell.” 
 
 iEneas has his advocate, too, in the celestial council. 
 His goddess - mother Yenus pleads with her father 
 Jupiter to have pity on her offspring. And Jupiter—- 
 very open to influence of this kind now, as in Homer’s 
 story — reveals for her comfort the secrets of fate. 
 AEneas shall reach Latium safely, and reign there 
 three years. His son lulus—or Ascanius, as he is 
 otherwise called—shall succeed him, and transfer the 
 seat of power from Lavinium to his own new-founded 
 city, Alba Longa. Three hundred years his race «hall 
 rule there, till in due course the twin-brothers Ivomu-^/ 
 lus and Remus shall be born to the war-god Mars, and 
 the elder brother shall lay the foundations of Home. 
 
 To the glories of this new capital the Father of the goda 
 
 will assign neither limit nor end. 
 
 The wrongs of Trov 
 
 shall be redressed. The sons of the East, in tlieii ne»» 
 home, shall avenge themselves on their enemies. 
 
 “ So stands my will. There comes a day, 
 While Rome’s great ages hold their way, 
 When old Assaracus’s sons 
 Shall quit them on the Myrmidons, 
 
SHIPWRECK ON THE COAST OF CARTIIAGE. ±7 
 
 O’er Phthia and Mycenae reign, 
 
 And humble Argos to their chain. 
 
 From Troy’s fair stock shall Caesar rise, 
 
 The limits of whose victories 
 Are ocean, of his fame the skies ; 
 
 Great Julius, proud that style to bear, 
 
 In name and blood lulus’ heir.” 
 
 Thus, before he has concluded the first book of his 
 great poem, the poet has taken us into his counsels as 
 to the purport of the song. It is not a mere epic 
 romance, in which we are to be charmed with heroic 
 deeds and exciting adventures; it is, like some of om 
 modern novels, a romance with a purpose; and the 
 purpose is the claiming for the great house of Julius 
 the rightful empire of Rome, and the celebration of 
 the glories of that house in the person of Augustus. 
 And as the Iliad of Homer, beyond the mere vocation 
 of the poet to arouse and charm a warlike audience by 
 the recital of deeds of arms, had its own purpose also 
 —the glorification of the Greek nation—so the Roman 
 poet may be said to have written a counter-Iliad, to 
 extol the later fortunes of the royal house of Troy 
 in the descendants, as he is pleased to imagine them, 
 of lulus. For any historic foundation of such a 
 genealogy we may look in vain. King Brute stands 
 upon much the same historical level, as the ances¬ 
 tor of the Britons, as can be claimed for lulus of 
 Troy as the founder of the Julian house and of Rome. 
 But, for the present, we must be content to assume 
 his existence, and to follow the course of the 
 narrative as the poet wills. The claim of Trojan 
 descent is not an invention of Virgil's, though he 
 
43 
 
 THE JEN El D. 
 
 may have been tlie first to work it out so much ir» 
 detail. It was a claim in which his countrymen 
 always delighted, and there were not wanting tradi¬ 
 tions in its support. Another purpose, also, Yirgil 
 seems to have at heart. He does not care so much, 
 after all, for the subjugation of Greece and the ex¬ 
 tension of the imperial rule of Home. The empire 
 of Augustus is to be peace. There has been enough, 
 and more than enough, of war. In the prognostica¬ 
 tions of the future of his nation, even here we are re¬ 
 minded of the strains of the “Pollio.” To the soul of 
 the Roman poet—unlike his master Homer in this—• 
 war, and more especially civil war, is absolutely hateful. 
 He can describe it, when needed for his purpose, and 
 describe it well; but it is as the scourge of nations, or at 
 best the terrible remedy for greater evils;—not, as the 
 Greek poet calls it, “ the strife which is the joy of men.” 
 
 Venus loses no time in furthering, so far as she 
 may, the counsels of Jupiter. She puts into the 
 heart of the Queen of Carthage, on whose shores 
 H3neas and his crews have now been cast, feelings of 
 pity and compassion towards the shipwrecked stran¬ 
 gers. She comes in person, also, to comfort her son 
 iEneas in his trouble. Attended by his faithful 
 friend Achates, he is exploring, like a careful leader, 
 the strange coast on which he finds himself— 
 
 “ When in the bosom of the wood 
 Before him, lo, his mother stood. 
 
 In mien and gear a Spartan maid, 
 
 Or like Harpalyce arrayed, 
 
 Who tires fleet coursers in the chase, 
 
 And heads the swiftest streams of Thrace. 
 
SHIPWRECK ON TIIE COAST OF CARTHAGE. 49 
 
 Slung from lier shoulders hangs a how; 
 
 Loose to the wind her tresses flow; 
 
 Bare was her knee ; her mantle’s fold 
 The gathering of a knot controlled. 
 
 And ‘ Saw ye, youths,’ she asks them, * say* 
 
 One of my sisters here astray; 
 
 A silver quiver at her side, 
 
 And for a scarf a lynx’s hide; 
 
 Or pressing on the wild boar’s track 
 "With upraised dart and voiceful pack ? ’ ” 
 
 There is in this description a happy reminiscence of 
 an earlier legend. In such, guise—not with any of 
 the meretricious attractions assigned to the goddess 
 of Cyprus and of Paphos, but as a simple mountain 
 nymph—had she won her mortal lover, the Trojan 
 shepherd Anchises, from whom this her dear son was 
 born. So ran the fable; and it was added that she 
 had enjoined her lover never to disclose the secret of 
 the child’s birth, nor to boast of the favour shown 
 him by a goddess, but to bring the boy up in the 
 forests of Ida, as the offspring of a wood - nymph. 
 Anchises, in his pride, had neglected or forgotten her 
 warning, and was punished by premature weakness 
 and a helpless old age. 
 
 Professing herself to be but a Tyrian damsel, Venus 
 replies to her son’s questions as to the inhabitants of 
 the land. They are a colony from Tyre; their queen, 
 Dido, has fled from the treachery of her false brother 
 Pygmalion, who, after murdering her husband Sichseus, 
 had possessed himself of the kingdom. Hither she 
 has escaped with her husband’s wealth, and is found¬ 
 ing a new city on the coast of Africa. .Eneas tells 
 a. c. vol. v. 
 
 D 
 
50 
 
 THE J2NE1D. 
 
 her in return his own sad story, and is comforted by 
 the assurance that all his fleet, though scattered, are 
 safe—all but one unhappy vessel and her crew. Then, 
 as she turns to leave liim, the disguised divinity be¬ 
 comes apparent. 
 
 “ Ambrosial tresses round her head 
 A more than earthly fragrance shed ; 
 
 Her falling robe her footsteps swept, 
 
 And showed the goddess as she stept.” 
 
 r 
 
 /Eneas and his companion mount the crest of the 
 hill, whence they look down upon the half-finished 
 walls of Carthage, and the swarming bands of work¬ 
 men. They are digging out the harbour, planning that 
 most essential structure in a city of any pretension, .an 
 amphitheatre for public spectacles, and building a 
 magnificent temple to Juno. Girt with a mist of 
 invisibility which Yenus has thrown round them,— 
 like Ulysses in the court of Phseacia—the strangers 
 enter the brazen gates of the temple. All is magnifi¬ 
 cent and wonderful. But, marvel of marvels! both 
 walls and doors are sculptured with a history which 
 /Eneas knows only too well. Even here is recorded, 
 on this distant and unknown shore, the story of stories 
 —the Tale of Troy. With eager and tearful eyes the 
 Trojan chief peruses the several groups, and identifies 
 the various incidents. Here the Greeks fly to their 
 ships, hard pressed by Hector and the Trojans : there, 
 again, the terrible Achilles drives the Trojans in 
 slaughter before him. The death of young Troilus, 
 hurled from his chariot, is there; and, to match the pic¬ 
 ture. Hector dragged at Achilles’s chariot-wheels round 
 
SHIPWRECK ON THE COAST OF CARTHAGE. 5i 
 
 the city walls. Memnon the Ethiopian and the ama¬ 
 zon Penthesilea also find a place; and there, amidst 
 the foremost combatants, iEneas can recognise himself. 
 
 While the Trojan chief and his companion Achates 
 are reading this sculptured history, the queen herself 
 approaches. And while they admire her majesty and 
 grace, conspicuous amongst all her train, lo ! the 
 missing comrades of iEneas make their appearance be¬ 
 fore her as suppliants. They tell the story of their 
 shipwreck on the coast: and they think iEneas is lost, 
 as he had thought they were. Then the mist in which 
 Yenus had wrapped the hero and his comrade dissolves, 
 and the two parties recognise and welcome each other. 
 Dido, like all the world, has heard of the name of 
 .Eneas, and the sufferings of the heroes of Troy. She 
 can pity such sufferings from her own bitter experience : 
 
 “ Myself not ignorant of woe, 
 
 Compassion I have learnt to show.” 
 
 The sentiment has been adopted by modern writers 
 in all languages. “ She had suffered persecution and 
 learnt mercy,” says Sterne in a like case: and even in 
 Sterne’s mouth, the sentiment is natural and true. 
 
 The strangers are hospitably welcomed, and offered 
 every facility for refitting their fleet, and preparing for 
 the continuance of their voyage. Eneas sends down 
 to his ships for presents worthy of so kind a hostess: 
 and, with a father’s pride, he sends also for his young 
 son to introduce him to the queen. The evening is 
 devoted to feasting and revelry. The royal bard— 
 that indispensable figure in all courts, Trojan or Tyrian 
 or Greek—sings to the assembled guests. It is to be 
 remarked that his lay is not, as we might expect, of 
 
52 
 
 THE JENEID. 
 
 heroes and tlieir deeds: it is the song of Silenus, in 
 the Pastorals, over again—the favourite subject of the 
 poet, the wonders of nature and creation. 
 
 “ He sings the wanderings of the moon, 
 
 The sun eclipsed in deadly swoon ; 
 
 Whence humankind and cattle came, 
 
 And whence the rain-spout and the flame, 
 Arcturus and the two bright bears, 
 
 And Hyads weeping showery tears ; 
 
 Why winter suns so swiftly go, 
 
 And why the winter nights move slow.” 
 
 All the while, during the song and the banquet, the 
 queen is fondling the fair boy, who sits next to her. 
 Unhappy Dido ! it is Cupid, the god of love, who, 
 at his false mother’s bidding, has assumed the shape 
 of iEneas’s young son. The true Ascanius lies fast 
 bound in an enchanted sleep, by Venus’s machina¬ 
 tions, in her bower in the far island of Cythera; and 
 the Tyrian queen is nursing unawares in her bosom 
 the passion which is to be her ruin. iEneas has al¬ 
 ready become an object of tender interest to her. She 
 hangs upon his lips, like Desdemona on Othello’s:— 
 
 “ Much of great Priam asks the dame, 
 
 Much of his greater son ; 
 
 Now in what armour Memnon came, 
 
 Now how Achilles shone.” 
 
 Above all, she begs of him to tell his own story—his 
 escape and his seven years’ wanderings. And AEneas 
 begins; and, with an exact imitation of Homer’s 
 management of his story, like Ulysses in the court of 
 Alcinous, retraces his adventures from the last fatal 
 night of Troy. 
 
CHAPTER IL 
 
 JEN EAS RELATES THE FALL OF TROY. 
 
 It has been said that this poem is a kind of supple¬ 
 ment to the Iliad. iEneas tells us what was not there 
 told by Homer, but what is presupposed in his Odys¬ 
 sey,—the later history of the siege and capture of 
 Troy. He relates at length the stratagem of the 
 Wooden Horse, by which the Greeks at last outwitted 
 their enemies. The fleet, which bad seemed to sail for 
 home, had withdrawn, and lay concealed in the harbour 
 of Tenedos. The wooden fabric—dedicated to Minerva, 
 as the tale went—was left standing outside the city. 
 It was suggested to bring it within the walls, when 
 the priest Laocoon rushed to prevent it—suspecting 
 some such stratagem as in truth had been contrived. 
 He even hurled his spear against its side, and might 
 have thus made a beginning of its destruction, when 
 behold, a prisoner was brought in. It was the treach¬ 
 erous Sinon; a Greek who had undertaken to play 
 the dangerous part of a double spy. The tale he told 
 his captors was this: that he, though a Greek, was a 
 fugitive from Greek vengeance—especially from the 
 
54 
 
 THE JENE1D. 
 
 f 
 
 
 t 
 
 j 
 
 \ 
 
 
 liated Ulysses. He had "been fixed upon as a victim 
 to propitiate the offended gods ; for there had come an 
 oracle from Apollo, that as the blood of a virgin had 
 to he shed to propitiate the gales on the expedition to 
 Troy, so blood—that of a Greek—must purchase their 
 return. Ulysses had contrived that Sinon should be 
 the victim, and it was to escape this doom that he 
 had thus fled. 
 
 The Trojans were moved to pity—they spared the 
 traitor’s life; only, in return, King Priam adjured him 
 to tell them the true intent of the Horse. Sinon 
 declared that the Greeks had meant to set it up 
 themselves, an offering to Minerva, within the Trojan 
 citadel when they should have captured it; it be¬ 
 hoved the Trojans now to seize it and drag it within 
 the walls : for, if this were done, then—so ran the 
 oracles—Asia should avenge itself upon Europe, and 
 the Greeks in their turn should be besieged in their 
 homes.* 
 
 The traitor’s tale was all too easily believed. There 
 came, too, a fearful omen, which hurried the Trojans 
 to adopt this false counsel. The priest Laocoon, who 
 had dared to strike the wooden monster, was seized, 
 while offering sacrifice to Neptune, with his two sons, 
 by two huge sea-serpents (so old is the belief, false or 
 true, in these apocryphal monsters), which came sail¬ 
 ing in to the beach from the direction of Tenedos. In 
 the description which the poet gives of their move- 
 
 * Dante in his Inferno punishes Sinon with an eternal sweat¬ 
 ing-sickness : a singular penalty, which is shared only bj 
 Potipliar’s wife.—Inf. xxx. 
 
jENEAS relates tue fall of troy. 55 
 
 ments at sea, we seem to "be reading a versified extract 
 from the log of some modem sea-captain :— 
 
 “ Amid the waves they rear their breasts, 
 
 And toss on high their sanguined crests ;* 
 
 The hind-part coils along the deep, 
 
 And undulates with sinuous sweep.” 
 
 The two unhappy youths are first caught and strangled 
 —then the father. The legend is well known to others 
 besides students of the dtneid, from the marble group of 
 the Laocoon; which, however, does not tell the story 
 in the same way, or in so probable a shape, as the poet 
 does, since it represents the reptiles as embracing all 
 three victims at once in their folds. Then, with glad 
 shouts and songs of youths and maidens, the huge 
 monster was dragged over a breach made purposely in 
 the walls of Troy. Yet not without a voice of warn¬ 
 ing, disregarded, from Cassandra, daughter of King 
 Priam, who had the gift of prophecy, and whose fate 
 it was, like so many prophets in their own families, to 
 prophesy in vain—nor without difficulties which might 
 
 in themselves have well been considered presages of 
 
 evil:— 
 
 “ Four times ’twas on the threshold stayed; 
 
 Four times the armour clashed and brayed; 
 
 Yet press we on, with passion blind, 
 
 All forethought blotted from our mind, 
 
 Till the dread monster we install 
 Within the temple’s tower-built wall.” 
 
 * Nay, the “ crests ” spoken of seem to have been (as re¬ 
 ported of the modern sea-serpent) of actual hair; since Pindar, 
 as Conington has noted, calls them “maims.” 
 
56 
 
 THE jENEID. 
 
 Inside, tlie fabric is full of armed Greeks. Hot* 
 many there were in number has been disputed — 
 though possibly, in a legend of this kind, the question 
 of more or fewer is scarcely relevant. It is a question, 
 however, which derives some interest from the fact 
 that it was one of the difficulties which exercised the 
 mind of the first Napoleon during his exile. Studying 
 the siege of Troy as if it were a mere prosaic operation 
 in modem warfare, he was struck by the improbability 
 of the whole stratagem. How “ even a single com¬ 
 pany of the Guard ” could be hid in such a machine, 
 and dragged from some distance inside the city walls, 
 the Trench Emperor was unable to conceive, and re¬ 
 garded the story as an infringement of even a poet’s 
 licence. Napoleon was not much of a Latin scholar, 
 and, so far as the main point of his criticism went, had 
 depended too implicitly upon Trench translators. 
 Segrais, discussing the question in a note, thought 
 there might be perhaps some two or three hundred. 
 Indeed most of our English translators have gone out 
 of their way to exaggerate the number. But Virgil 
 himself, as has been pertinently remarked by Dr 
 Henry, only makes nine men actually come out of the 
 horse, all of whom he mentions by name. The poet 
 certainly does not say in so many words that these 
 were all, but he, at least, is not answerable for a larger 
 number. Among the nine are the young Neoptolemus, 
 surnamed Pyrrhus—“ Red-haired/’—son of the dead 
 Achilles, and now his successor in the recognised 
 championship of the force ; Sthenelus, the friend and 
 comrade of Diomed (for whose absence it seems hard 
 
jENEAS relates the fall of TROY. 57 
 
 to account); Machaon, tlie hero-physician, whom one 
 hardly expects to find selected for such a desperate 
 service ; Epeus, the contriver of the machine, and 
 Ulysses, without whose aid and presence no such strat¬ 
 agem would seem complete. 
 
 At dead of night the traitor Sinon looked out to 
 sea, and saw a light in the offing. It was the fire- 
 signal from Agamemnon’s vessel; the Greek fleet had 
 come hack under cover of the darkness from its lurk¬ 
 ing-place at Tenedos. Then he silently undid the 
 fastenings of the horse, and the Greek adventurers, as 
 has been said, emerged from their wooden prison. 
 
 In the visions of the night iEneas saw the ghastly 
 spectre of the dead Hector stand before him,— 
 
 “ All torn by dragging at the car, 
 
 And black with gory dust of war. 
 
 • • • • • • 
 
 Ah, what a sight was there to view ! 
 
 How altered from the man we knew, 
 
 Our Hector, who from day’s long toil 
 Comes radiant in Achilles’ spoil, 
 
 Or with that red right hand, which casts 
 The fires of Troy on Grecian masts ! 
 
 Blood-clotted hung his beard and hair, 
 
 And all those many wounds were there, 
 
 Which on his gracious person fell 
 Around the walls he loved so well.” 
 
 Virgil seems to have followed the more horrible tradi 
 tion, which appears also in some of the Greek drama¬ 
 tists, that Achilles fastened Hector to his chariot while 
 
 still alive. 
 
 The shade of the dead hero had come to warn 
 
58 
 
 THE JZNEID. 
 
 yEneas not to throw away his life in a hopeless resist¬ 
 ance. Troy must fall: hut to iEneas, as the hope of 
 his race, the prince of the house of Priam formally 
 intrusts the national gods of Troy and the sacred fire of 
 Yesta, to be carried into the new land which he shall 
 colonise. It is a formal transfer of the kingdom and 
 the priesthood to the younger branch — the line of 
 Assaracus. 
 
 Aeneas awoke, as he goes on to tell, to hear the 
 war-cries of the Greeks and the clash of arms within 
 the city. Already the storming-party had attacked 
 and set fire to the house of Deiphobus,— to whom 
 Helen, willing or unwilling, had been made over on 
 the death of Paris; and therefore naturally the first 
 point which Menelaus made for. .ZEneas himself is 
 summoned by a comrade, Panthus, to come to the 
 rescue. The first despairing words of Panthus have a 
 pathos which has made them well known. Ho Eng¬ 
 lish idiom will express with equal brevity and point 
 the Latin “ Fuimus ,” —“ We have been—and are not,” 
 for this is understood.* “ Fuimus Troes ” —Mr Con- 
 ington’s translation gives the full sense, but at the 
 expense of its terseness :— 
 
 “We have been Trojans—Troy has been— 
 
 She sat, but sits no more, a queen.” 
 
 It was a phrase peculiarly Roman. So they used the 
 word “ Yixi ”—“ I have lived ”—in epitaphs, to ex¬ 
 press death; though in this, as in so many cases, the 
 
 * Tlie Frencli word “feu," used of a person deceased, is pro 
 bahly from this Latin use of “ fui .” 
 
JSNEAS RELATES THE FALL OF TROY. 59 
 
 turn of the expression is due to that euphemism which 
 refrained from using any words of direct ill omen. 
 
 “The father of the gods,” says Panthus, “lias trans¬ 
 ferred all our glory to Argos.” There was a story 
 (alluded to in one of the lost tragedies of Sophocles, 
 of which we have hut a fragment) that on the night of 
 the capture of Troy the tutelary deities departed in a 
 "body, taking their images with them. It is a singular 
 parallel to the well-known tradition, that before the 
 fall of Jerusalem supernatural voices were heard in the 
 night exclaiming, “Let us depart hence!” The 
 Romans had a regular formula for the evocation of the 
 gods from an enemy’s city, and inviting them, with 
 promises of all due honours and sacrifices, to transfer 
 their seat to Rome; and to attack any city without 
 these solemn preliminaries was held to bring a curse 
 on the besiegers.* 
 
 H3neas is anxious to assure his fair listener that, in 
 spite of Hector’s adjuration to fly, he did all that man 
 might do in defence of his king and his countrymen. 
 He Pad. rallied a band of brave men, and for a while 
 made head against the enemy. They were favoured 
 by the mistake made by a party of Greeks, who took 
 them for friends in the darkness, and whom they cut 
 to pieces, and having arrayed themselves in their armour, 
 dealt destruction in the enemy’s very ranks. But all 
 resistance was in vain. The appearance of Heoptole- 
 mus—Pyrrhus—the “ Red-haired ”—and the compari¬ 
 son of the young warrior in his strength and beauty to 
 
 * For this reason, says Macrobius, the real name of Borne 
 ®*id of its guardian deity was always kept a secret. 
 
GO 
 
 THE jENEID. 
 
 the serpent who comes forth after casting its wintei 
 slough, is fine in the original, and finely translated 
 
 “ Full in the gate see Pyrrhus blaze, 
 
 A meteor, shooting steely rays : 
 
 So flames a serpent into light, 
 
 On poisonous herbage fed, 
 
 Which late in subterranean night 
 Through winter lay as dead : 
 
 Now from its ancient wounds undressed, 
 
 Invigorate and young, 
 
 Sunward it rears its glittering breast, 
 
 And darts its three-forked tongue.” 
 
 And the fate of the unhappy Priam is an equally 
 beautiful picture, of a different tone :— 
 
 “ Perhaps you ask of Priam’s fate : 
 
 He, when he sees his town o’erthrown, 
 
 Greeks bursting through his palace-gate, 
 
 And thronging chambers once his own, 
 
 His ancient armour, long laid by, 
 
 Around his palsied shoulders throws, 
 
 Girds with a useless sword his thigh, 
 
 And totters forth to meet his foes.” 
 
 Hecuba, who with her women is clinging to the altar, 
 rebukes her husband for this mad attempt to match 
 his feeble strength against the enemy. Still, when 
 Pyrrhus rushes into the hall in pursuit of one of 
 Priam’s sons, Polites, and slays him full in the father’s 
 sight, the old man hurls a javelin at the Greek chief, 
 with a taunting curse upon his cruelty. But it is 
 
 “ A feeble dart, no blood that drew ; 
 
 The ringing metal turned it back, 
 
 And left it clinging, weak and slack ” 
 
AENEAS/REI ATES TIIE FALL OF TROY. Gl 
 
 And the ruthless son of Achilles drags the old king 
 to the altar, and slays him there. 
 
 One more episode of that terrible night AEneas 
 relates to his hostess :— 
 
 “ I stood alone, when lo ! I mark, 
 
 In Vesta’s temple crouching dark, 
 
 The traitress Helen: the broad blaze 
 Gives me full light, as round I gaze. 
 
 She, shrinking from the Trojans’ hate, 
 
 Made frantic by their city’s fate, 
 
 Nor dreading less the Danaan sword, 
 
 The vengeance of her injured lord,— 
 
 She, Troy’s and Argos’ common fiend, 
 
 Sat cowering, by the altar screened. 
 
 My blood was fired : fierce passion woke 
 To quit Troy’s fall by one sure stroke.” 
 
 But his goddess-mother, Venus, stays his hand, and 
 bids him think rather of saving his wife, and aged 
 father, and infant son. Virgil gives us no hint of 
 the other story of Helen’s discovery by her angry 
 husband Menelaus, who was lifting his sword to kill 
 the adulteress, when his arm fell powerless before the 
 fascination of her beauty. 
 
 Obedient to the goddess, says iEneas, he went to 
 seek his father Anchises, that he might carry him 
 with him in his flight. But the old man refused to 
 move. He would die, he said, in Troy. Life might 
 be dear to the'young ; but for himself, even the tender 
 mercies of the enemy would give him all he seeks* 
 though they leave his corpse unburied,— 
 
 “ IJe lacks not much that lacks a grave.” 
 
G2 
 
 THE jENEID. 
 
 4 
 
 l 
 
 The desperate entreaties of his son were all in vain, 
 until there came an,omen from heaven. While ASneas 
 was threatening — since the old man would not he 
 saved—to rush himself again into the fight and meet 
 a warrior’s death, his wife Creusa placed their young 
 son lulus in his arms. Lo ! on the child’s head there 
 played a lambent light of flame. The mother and 
 iEneas would have sought to extinguish it, hut An- 
 chises recognised in it a sign from heaven. Yirgil 
 reads us no special interpretation, hut surely he meant 
 his Itoman readers to understand that the seal of 
 sovereignty was thus early set upon the founder of the 
 great house of Julius. Thunder on the left hand— 
 always the best of auguries—and a meteor flashing 
 across the sky and pointing out their path to the fugi¬ 
 tives, confirm the omen. 
 
 So the old man was lifted on his son’s shoulders, 
 lulus walking by his side, and Creusa following at 
 some distance. They were to meet outside the city, at 
 the temple of Ceres. Ancliises bore in his hands the 
 little images of the household gods (like Laban’s tera- 
 phim) and the sacred fire; for tineas himself, red- 
 handed from the battle, might not touch them. But 
 soon the steps of their enemies were heard in pursuit; 
 and Ahieas, making his way with his precious burden 
 through b}r-paths to the place of rendezvous, reached it 
 only to find that though many other fugitives, men, 
 women, and children, had assembled there, the un- 
 happy Creusa had not followed him. Cursing men 
 and gods alike in his agony, he retraced his steps to¬ 
 wards Troy, and even penetrated unharmed into the 
 
J2NEAS relates the fall of TROY. G3 
 
 wreck of Priam’s palace, crying aloud liis wife’s name. 
 Suddenly her shade appeared to him, and hade him 
 not continue so vain a search, or grieve for a loss 
 which was hut the fulfilment of the counsels of 
 heaven. She is content to know the future glories 
 which are in store for her husband, and thankful that 
 her own fate has been death (we are left to suppose, 
 at the hands of the Greeks) rather than captivity and 
 slavery, tineas listened, and at once, obedient to the 
 recognised voice of the gods, whether for good or evil, 
 as is his character throughout, yielded to his fate, and 
 hid himself with his little band of fugitives in the 
 forests of Mount Ida. There they had spent the win¬ 
 ter months in building themselves a little fleet of gal¬ 
 leys out of the abundant pine-wood; and with the early 
 summer launched upon the seas, wholly in ignorance 
 of their destination, but awaiting confidently the guid¬ 
 ance of heaven towards their promised resting-place. 
 
CHAPTER IIL 
 
 JSNEAS CONTINUES HIS NARRATIVE. 
 
 So, with his father and his infant son, and carrying 
 with Him the national gods and sacred fire of Troy, 
 iEne«s and the remnant of the Trojans had set forth 
 upon their voyage for the unknown shores of Hes¬ 
 peria—the “Land of the West.” Their first resting- 
 place was on the friendly coast of Thrace, where 
 H£nea«s laid the foundations of a city which was to 
 hear his name. A strange adventure befell him there. 
 While he was pulling some cornel-twigs which grew 
 out of a mound, he found, to his horror, that the ends 
 dropped blood. A third time, after prayer to avert 
 the omen, he plucked a sapling, when a hollow voice 
 from below warned him to desist from such cruelty. 
 It is the grave of the unhappy Polydorus, a young 
 son of Priam, whom his father, when Troy became 
 hard pressed, had sent away with some of his trea¬ 
 sures to the safe keeping of the king of Thrace, who 
 for the sake of these treasures had basely murdered 
 him. The cornel-wood spears w r ith which he had been 
 transfixed had taken root, and the blood had flowed 
 
jENeas continues ms narrative. 65 
 
 from his body.* They did hut wait to pay due hon¬ 
 ours to the shade of Polydorus, and then hastened 
 from the accursed coast. Landing next on the sacred 
 isle of Delos, they consulted the oracle there as to 
 their future home. Apollo was as enigmatical as his 
 wont—he bade them “ seek out their ancient mother.” 
 They understood this to be spoken of the ancient 
 cradle of their race; Anchises thought the phrase 
 pointed to Crete, tbe birthplace of their ancestral hero 
 Teucrus, and where stood the ancient Mount Ida, 
 from which the mountain in the Troad derived its 
 name. And Idomeneus, the king of Crete, who had 
 joined the war against Troy, had been driven from his 
 kingdom, and left a vacant throne.t To Crete they 
 sailed, and there began to build a city, to be called 
 Pergamia, after the citadel of Troy. But a year of 
 deadly pestilence fell on man and beast; and in a 
 dream iEneas saw the angry gods of Troy standing by 
 him “ in the full moonlight that streamed through the 
 windows,” and warning him that the promised land, 
 the ancient home of their race, is not in Crete, but 
 Hesperia—the “Land of the West”—whence came 
 their forefather Dardanus. Then Anchises too re- 
 
 * Horrible as the legend is, Spenser thought it worth adopt¬ 
 ing. The Red-Cross Knight, to make a garland for Fidessa, 
 tears branches from the tree that had once been Fradubio.— 
 ‘ Faery Queen,’-I. ii. 30. 
 
 + The story of Idomeneus, according to the old annotators 
 upon Virgil, has a curious similarity to that of Jephthali. He 
 had vowed that if he escaped from a storm at sea, he would 
 offer in sacrilice the tirst tiling that met him on landing. It 
 was his son. A plague followed, and his subjects expelled him. 
 
 A. C. vol. V. JS 
 
66 
 
 THE jENEID. 
 
 membered that such had been the frequent warning of 
 Cassandra—the prophetess to whom none would listen. 
 They re-embarked accordingly. After a storm of three 
 days and three nights, when no pilot could keep the 
 course, they were cast upon the islands of the Harpies * 
 —the monster sisters, half women and half birds, foul 
 and loathsome, who are hateful to gods and men. 
 With them they had to do battle for the meal which 
 they had spread; and one of those hags, in her wrath, 
 prophesied that before they reached their promised 
 Hesperia they should be forced “ to eat their tables.” 
 
 The description of the ensuing voyage, in Mr Con- 
 ington’s tasteful translation, reads like a passage from 
 the ‘ Lord of the Isles/ yet presents a fair equivalent, 
 especially in the last fine touch, to the Latin original:— 
 
 “ The south wind freshens in the sail; 
 
 We hurry o’er the tide, 
 
 Where’er the helmsman and the gale 
 Conspire our course to guide; 
 
 Now rises o’er the foamy flood 
 Zacynthos, with its crown of wood, 
 
 * There is a fine description of these hags in Morris’s ‘Jason, 
 where the voyagers 
 
 “ Beheld the daughters of the Earth and Sea, 
 
 The dreadful Snatchers, who like women were 
 Down to the breast, with scanty close black hair 
 About their heads, and dim eyes ringed with red, 
 
 And bestial mouths set round with lips of lead. 
 
 But from their gnarled necks there ’gan to 6pring 
 Half hair, half feathers, and a sweeping wing 
 Grew out instead of arm on either side. 
 
 And thick plumes underneath the breast did hide 
 The place where joined the fearful natures twain. 
 
uENEAS CONTINUES IIIS NARRATIVE. 67 
 
 Dulichium, Sam&, Neritos, 
 
 Whose rocky sides the waves emboss; 
 
 The crags of Ithaca we flee, 
 
 Laertes’ rugged sovereignty; 
 
 Nor in our flight forget to curse 
 The land that was Ulysses’ nurse.” 
 
 They landed on the coast of Leucadia, at Actium—the 
 scene, be it remembered, of Augustus’s great naval vic¬ 
 tory over Antony and Cleopatra. Here, the Trojan chief 
 takes care to say, he refreshed his weary crew with 
 iest, and celebrated national games. Hay, he hung 
 up there, fugitive as he was, a trophy of defiance—a 
 shield which he had taken from a Greek hero, and 
 inscribed upon it, “ The spoil of .Eneas from the con¬ 
 quering Argives.” So speaks the poet; his Eoman 
 audience would recognise the Actian games, celebrated 
 there every fifth year by order of Augustus in honour 
 of his great victory ; and Eneas’s trophy is not so out 
 of place as it might seem. 
 
 At Buthrotus, in Epirus, the wanderers had met 
 with old friends. Andromache is settled there, now 
 the wife of Helenus, who, by a strange vicissitude, has 
 become the successor of Neoptolemus in his Greek 
 province. There is little of what we call sentiment in 
 these “ heroic ” times, especially as concerns “ woman 
 and her master.” It grates upon the feelings of the 
 reader who has in mind the pathetic scene between 
 Hector and his wife in the Iliad of Homer, to be told 
 here by the poet—told, too, as an ordinary incident, 
 as in fact it was—that Andromache had become the 
 property of the conqueror Neoptolemus, and that he, 
 
68 
 
 THE JENEID. 
 
 bent upon a marriage with Hermione, daughter of 
 Helen and Menelaus, had handed over his Trojan wife 
 —“ Hector’s Andromache,” as she still pathetically 
 calls herself—to her fellow-captive Helenus, Hector’s 
 brother. She tells her own sad story, not without 
 some sense of its wretchedness— 
 
 “ Ay—I am living; living still 
 Through all extremity of ill.” 
 
 And she envies the fate of Polyxena, her sister-in-law, 
 slain on the tomb of Achilles. Still, she has accepted 
 her lot—the lot of so many women in her day. And 
 Helenus, her present lord, is (if that be any consola¬ 
 tion) a sort of king; for Orestes has killed Neoptoie- 
 mus, and Helenus has in some way succeeded him, 
 and built a new “ Pergamus ” in Greece. So that 
 here, too, the poet would tell us, Troy has conquered 
 her conquerors—a son of Priam reigns in the territory 
 of Achilles. But the impression made upon an Eng¬ 
 lish mind as to Andromache’s fate is, after all, that of 
 degradation, and we gladly turn from the page which 
 relates it. 
 
 Helenus, like his sister Cassandra, has the gift of 
 prophecy; he had been the great authority on all such 
 matters to his countrymen during the siege. He now 
 read the omens for ASneas, at his request; all were 
 favourable. The wanderers should reach the promised 
 Hesperia ; but that western land was further off than 
 they thought, and their voyage would prove long and 
 weary. When they reached it, they should find under 
 
JENE AS CONTINUES HIS NARRATIVE . 69 
 
 a holm-oak a white sow with a litter of thirty young 
 ones: there the new town was to he built—the “ Alba 
 Longa” which has already been forenamed in Jupiter’s 
 promise to Venus. Helenus dismissed them with good 
 wishes and ample presents ; Andromache making spe¬ 
 cial gifts to the boy Ascanius, whose age and features 
 remind the mother of her own lost Astyanax. Hineas’f 
 words of farewell are these :— 
 
 “ Live, and be blest! ’tis sweet to feel 
 Fate’s book is closed and under seal. 
 
 For us, alas ! that volume stern 
 Has many another page to turn. 
 
 Yours is a rest assured : no more 
 Of ocean wave to task the oar; 
 
 No far Ausonia to pursue, 
 
 Still flying, flying from the view.” 
 
 They set sail from this friendly shore, and on the fol¬ 
 lowing day caught their first sight of the shores of Italy. 
 But though they landed and offered sacrifice to Juno^ as 
 Helenas had bid them do, they knew that this was not 
 the spot on which they were to settle, and soon put to 
 sea again. They passed the bay of Tarentum, escaping 
 the dangers of Charybdis, and landed under iEtna, 
 on the shore where dwell the Cyclops—the one-eyed 
 race of giants, who, according to one legend, labour in 
 their underground forges for Vulcan, the divine smith. 
 Here the poet introduces us to a direct reminiscence 
 of the wanderings of Ulysses. He adopts the whole 
 of Homer’s story—the visit of the Greek chief and his 
 comrades to the cave of the giant Polyphemus, hia 
 
70 
 
 THE JZNEID. 
 
 cannibal meal, and the vengeance which Ulysses took 
 upon him by burning out his eye.* iEneas relates 
 how he met there with one of Ulysses’ crew, who by 
 some mischance had been left behind, and who had 
 hid himself three months (so close is the date of the 
 two voyages) from the clutches of Polyphemus and his 
 fellow-Cyclops. They took the wretched fugitive on 
 beard, and put to sea again just in time to escape the 
 blind monster, who waded into the sea after them at 
 the sound of the oars. They skirted the coast of 
 Sicily, and at Drepanum the chief had buried his 
 father Anchises. It was on casting off from Sicily 
 tint be had been driven by the storm on this un- 
 kn >wn coast of Libya, on the spot soon to be famous 
 em ugh as the site of Carthage. 
 
 “ So king JEneas told his tale. 
 
 While all beside were still— 
 
 Rehearsed the fortunes of his sail, 
 
 And Fate’s mvsterious will: 
 
 i 
 
 Then to its close his legend brought, 
 
 And gladly took the rest he sought,’* 
 
 * See Homer’s Odyssey, p. 69. 
 
CHAPTER IY. 
 
 DIDO. 
 
 The Carthaginian queen has been an eager listener to 
 ^Eneas’s story. She is love-stricken—suddenly, and 
 irremediably. The poet has thought it necessary to 
 explain the fact by the introduction of the god of love 
 himself, whom, in the shape of the young Ascanius, she 
 has been nursing on her bosom. The passion itself is 
 looked upon by the poet—and as we must suppose by 
 his audience—as such a palpable weakness, that even in 
 a woman (and it is to women almost exclusively, in 
 ancient classical fiction, that these sudden affections 
 are attributed) it was thought necessary to account for 
 it by the intervention of some more than human in¬ 
 fluence. Either human nature has developed, or our 
 modern poets understand its workings better. Shake¬ 
 speare makes the angry Brabantio accuse the Moor of 
 having stolen his daughter’s love 
 
 “ By spells and medicines bought of mountebanks; ” 
 
 but Othello him self has a far simpler and more natural 
 explanation of the matter— 
 
THE JEN El D. 
 
 72 
 
 11 She loved me for the dangers I had passed ;— 
 
 This only is the witchcraft I have used.” 
 
 So it has been with Dido. But she is terribly ashamed 
 of her own feelings. She finds relief in disclosing 
 them to a very natural confidant—her sister Anna. 
 She confesses her weakness, but avows at the same 
 time a determination not to yield to it. The stranger 
 has interested her deeply, after a fashion which has not 
 touched her since the death of her husband Sichseus 
 
 “ Were not my purpose fixed as fate 
 
 With none in wedlock’s band to mate,— 
 
 • • * • • • 
 
 Were bed and bridal aught but pain,— 
 
 Perchance I had been weak again ” 
 
 But her sister—suiting her counsels, as all confidants 
 are apt to do, to the secret wishes rather than to the 
 professions of Dido—encourages the passion. Per¬ 
 petual widowhood has a romantic sound, but is not, in 
 Anna’s opinion, a desirable estate. Besides, in this 
 newly-planted colony, surrounded as they are by fierce 
 African tribes, an alliance with these Trojan strangers 
 will be a tower of strength. The stout arm of such 
 a husband as iEneas is much needed by a widowed 
 queen. His visit—so Anna thinks—is nothing less 
 than providential— 
 
 “’Twas Heaven and Juno’s grace that bore, 
 
 I ween, these Trojans to our shore.” 
 
 By all means let them detain their illustrious visitor 
 with them as long as possible—his ships require ie* 
 
DID 0. 
 
 73 
 
 fitting and his crews refreshment—and the result will 
 not he doubtful. 
 
 The advice suits with the queen’s new mood too 
 well to he rejected. Together the sisters offer pious 
 sacrifices to the gods—to Juno especially, as the 
 goddess of marriage—to give their sanction to the 
 hoped-for alliance. The restless feelings of the en¬ 
 amoured woman are described in one of the finest and 
 most admired passages of the poem :— 
 
 “ E’en as a deer whom from afar 
 A swain, in desultory war, 
 
 Where Cretan woods are thick, 
 
 Has pierced, as ’mid the trees she lies, 
 
 And, all unknowing of his prize, 
 
 Has left the dart to stick : 
 
 She wanders lawn and forest o’er, 
 
 While the fell shaft still drinks her gore * 
 
 Now through the city of her pride 
 She walks, iEneas at her side, 
 
 Displays the stores of Sidon’s trade. 
 
 And stately homes already made : 
 
 Begins, hut stops she knows not why, 
 
 And lets the imperfect utterance die. 
 
 Now, as the sunlight wears away, 
 
 She seeks the feast of yesterday, 
 
 Inquires once more of Troy’s eclipse, 
 
 And hangs once more upon his lips ; 
 
 Then, when the guests have gone their ways. 
 
 And the dim moon withdraws her rays, 
 
 * u To the which place a poor sequestered stag. 
 
 That from the hunter’s aim had ta’en a hurt. 
 
 Had come to languish.” 
 
 —Shakesfeajie, ‘ As you Like it/ iL 1. 
 
74 
 
 THE sENEID. 
 
 V 
 
 'A 
 
 
 And setting stars to slumber call, 
 
 Alone she mourns in that lone hall, 
 Clasps the dear couch where late he lay, 
 Beholds him, hears him far away; 
 
 Or keeps Ascanius on her knees, 
 
 And in the son the father sees, 
 
 Might she but steal one peaceful hour 
 From love’s ungovernable power. 
 
 No more the growing towers arise, 
 
 No more in martial exercise 
 
 The youth engage, make strong the fort, 
 
 Or shape the basin to a port.” 
 
 ( 
 
 The powers of Olympus here come again upon the 
 scene. Juno sees, not without a secret satisfaction, 
 the prospect of an entanglement between iEneas and 
 Dido, which may detain these hated Trojans in Africa, 
 and so prevent their settlement and dominion in Italy. 
 So Carthage, and not the Rome of the future, may yet 
 be the mistress of the world. She addresses herself at 
 once to the goddess of love—not without a sneer at 
 
 the success of her snares in poor Dido’s case; a sorry 
 triumph it is indeed—two divinities pitted against a 
 weak woman ! But come—suppose in this matter 
 they agree to act in concert; let there be a union be¬ 
 tween the two nations, and let Carthage be the seat 
 of their joint power; its citizens shall pay equal hon¬ 
 ours to the queen of heaven and the queen of love. 
 Venus understands perfectly well that Juno’s motive 
 is at any cost to prevent the foundation of Rome; but, 
 having a clearer vision (we must presume) than her 
 great rival of the probable results, she agrees to the 
 terns. There is to be a hunting-party on the morrow, 
 
DIDO. 
 
 75 
 
 and Juno will take care that opportunity shall he given 
 for the furtherance of Dido’s passion. The royal hunt 
 is again a striking picture, almost mediseval in its rich 
 colouring :— 
 
 “ The morn meantime from ocean rose : 
 
 Forth from the gates with daybreak goes 
 The silvan regiment: 
 
 Thin nets are there, and spears of steel, 
 
 And there Massylian riders wheel, 
 
 And dogs of keenest scent. 
 
 Before the chamber of her state 
 Long time the Punic nobles wait 
 The appearing of the queen : 
 
 With gold and purple housings fit 
 Stands her proud steed, and champs the hit 
 His foaming jaws between. 
 
 At length with long attendant train 
 She comes : her scarf of Tyrian grain,* 
 
 With broidered border decked : 
 
 Of gold her quiver : knots of gold 
 Confine her hair : her vesture’s fold 
 By golden clasp is checked. 
 
 The Trojans and lulus gay 
 In glad procession take their way. 
 iEneas, comeliest of the throng, 
 
 Joins their proud ranks, and steps along, 
 
 As when from Lycia’s wintry airs 
 To Delos’ isle Apollo fares ; 
 
 The Agathyrsian, Dry op, Crete, 
 
 In dances round his altar meet: 
 
 He on the heights of Cynthus moves, 
 
 And binds his hair’s loose flow 
 
 * This was the dye procured from the shell-fish called murex— 
 especially costly, because each fish contained but a single drop 
 of the prec : ous tincture. 
 
THE jENEID. 
 
 With cincture of the leaf he loves: 
 
 Behind him sounds his how;— 
 
 So firm ^Eneas’ graceful tread, 
 
 So bright the glories round his head. 
 
 But young Ascanius on his steed 
 With boyish ardour glows, 
 
 And now in ecstacy of speed 
 He passes these, now those : 
 
 For him too peaceful and too tame 
 The pleasure of the hunted game : 
 
 He longs to sfee the foaming boar, 
 
 Or hear the tawny lion’s roar. 
 
 Meantime, loud thunder-peals resound, 
 And hail and rain the sky confound: 
 
 And Tyrian chiefs and sons of Troy, 
 
 And Venus’ care, the princely boy, 
 
 Seek each his shelter, winged with dread. 
 While torrents from the hills run red. 
 Driven haply to the same retreat, 
 
 The Dardan chief and Dido meet. 
 
 Then Earth, the venerable dame, 
 
 And Juno, give the sign : 
 
 Heaven lightens with attesting flame, 
 And bids its torches shine, 
 
 And from the summit of the peak 
 The nymphs shrill out the nuptial shriek 
 
 That Jay she first began to die ; 
 
 That day first taught her to defy 
 The public tongue, the public eye. 
 
 No secret love is Dido’s aim : 
 
 She calls it marriage now; such name 
 She chooses to conceal her shame.” 
 
DIDO. 
 
 77 
 
 A rejected suitor of the Carthaginian queen,—Iar- 
 bas, king of Gmtulia,—hears the news amongst the rest. 
 He is a reputed son of Jupiter; and now, furious at 
 seeing this wanderer from Troy—“this second Paris,” 
 as he calls him—preferred to himself, he appeals for 
 vengeance to his Olympian parent. The appeal is 
 heard, and Mercury is despatched to remind iEneas of 
 his high destinies, which he is forgetting in this dalliance 
 at Carthage. If he has lost all ambition for himself, 
 let him at least remember the rights of his son 
 Ascanius, which he is thus sacrificing to the indulgence 
 of his own wayward passions. The immortal messenger 
 finds the Trojan chief busied in planning the extension 
 of the walls and streets of the new city which he has 
 already adopted as his home. He delivers his message 
 briefly and emphatically, and vanishes. Thus recalled 
 to a full sense of his false position, .ZEneas is at first 
 horror-struck and confounded. How to disobey the 
 direct commands of Heaven, and run counter to the.L 
 oracles of fate; how, on the other hand, to break his 
 faith with Dido, and ungratefully betray the too con¬ 
 fiding love of his hostess and benefactress ; how even 
 to venture to hint to her a word of parting, and how to 
 escape the probable vengeance of the Carthaginian 
 people;—all these considerations crowd into his mind, 
 and perplex him terribly. On the main point, now- 
 ever, his resolution is soon taken. He will obey the 
 mandate of the gods, at any cost. He summons the 
 most trusted of his comrades, and bids them make secret 
 preparations to set sail once more in quest of their 
 home in Italy. He promises himself that he will 
 
78 
 
 THE HZNEID. 
 
 either find or make some oppportunity of breaking the 
 news of his departure to Dido. 
 
 This is the turning-point of the poe m • and here it 
 is that the interest to a modern reader, so far as the 
 mere plot of the story is concerned, is sadly marred by 
 the way in which the hero thus cuts himself off from 
 all our sympathies. His most ingenious apologists—• 
 and he has found many—appeal to us in vain. Upon 
 the audience or the readers of his own time, no doubt, 
 the effect might have been different. To the critics 
 of Augustus’s court, love—or what they understood by 
 it—was a mere weakness in the hero. The call which 
 Heaven had conveyed to him was to found the great 
 empire of the future ; and because he obeys the call 
 at the expense of his tenderest feelings, the poet gives 
 him always his distinctive epithet — the “ pious ” 
 H^neas. The word “ pious,” it must be remembered, 
 implies in the Latin the recognition of all duties to 
 one’s country and one’s parents, as well as to the gods. 
 And in all these senses iEneas would deserve it. But 
 to an English mind, the a piety ” which pleads the will 
 of Heaven as an excuse for treachery to a woman, only 
 adds a deeper hue of infamy to the transaction. It 
 
 “ Doth make the fault the worse by the excuse.” 
 
 But our story must not wait for us to discuss too 
 curiously the morals of the hero. iEneas has thought 
 to make his preparations without the knowledge of the 
 queen—while she 
 
 “ Still dreams her happy dream, nor thinks 
 That ought can break those golden links.” 
 
DIDO. 
 
 79 
 
 But, as the poet goes on to say, “ Who can cheat the 
 eyes of love?” Dido soon learns his change of purpose, 
 and taxes him openly with his baseness and ingratitude. 
 The whole of this fourth book of the iEneid—“ The 
 Passion of Dido,” as it has been called—is of a very 
 high order of tragic pathos. The queen is by turns 
 furious and pathetic ) now she hurls menaces and 
 curses against her false lover, now she condescends to 
 pitiable entreaty. The Trojan chief's defence, such 
 as it is, is that he had never meant to stay. He is 
 bound, the pilgrim of Heaven, for Latium. His father 
 Anchises is warning him continually in the visions of 
 the night not to linger here : and now the messenger 
 of the gods in person has come to chide this fond 
 delay. 
 
 The grand storm of wrath in which the injured 
 queen bursts upon him in reply has severely taxed the 
 powers of all Virgil’s English translators. They seem 
 to have felt themselves no more of a match for “ the 
 fury of a woman scorned ” than iEneas was. Cer¬ 
 tainly they all fail, more or less, to give the fire and 
 bitterness of the original. The heroics of Dryden 
 suit it better, perhaps, than any other measure :— 
 
 “ False as thou art, and more than false, forsworn ! 
 
 Not sprung from noble blood, nor goddess-born, 
 
 But hewn from hardened entrails of a rock, 
 
 And rough Hyrcanian tigers gave thee suck! 
 
 Why should I fawn ? what have I worse to fear ? 
 
 Did he once look, or lend a listening ear, 
 
 Sigh when I sobbed, or shed one kindly tear ? 
 
 All symptoms of a base ungrateful mind— 
 
 So foul, that, which is worse, ’tis hard to find. 
 
so 
 
 THE sENEID. 
 
 Of man’s injustice wliy should I complain 1 
 The gods, and Jove himself, behold in vain 
 Triumphant treason, yet no thunder flies ; 
 
 Nor Juno views my wrongs "with equal eyes: 
 Faithless is earth, and faithless are the skies ! 
 Justice is fled, and truth is now no more. 
 
 I saved the shipwrecked exile on my shore : 
 
 With needful food his hungry Trojans fed: 
 
 I took the traitor to my throne and bed: 
 
 Fool that I w'as!—’tis little to repeat 
 
 The rest—I stored and rigged his ruined fleet. 
 
 I rave, I rave ! A god’s command he pleads ! 
 
 And makes heaven accessory to his deeds. 
 
 Now Lycian lots; and now the Delian god; 
 
 Now Hermes is employed from Jove’s abode, 
 
 To warn him hence; as if the peaceful state 
 Of heavenly powers were touched with human fate! 
 But go : thy flight no longer I detain— 
 
 Go seek thy promised kingdom through the main! 
 Yet, if the heavens will hear my pious vow, 
 
 The faithless waves, not half so false as thou, 
 
 Or secret sands, shall sepulchres afford 
 To thy proud vessels and their perjured lord. 
 
 Then shalt thou call on injured Dido’s name : 
 
 Dido shall come, in a black sulph’ry flame, 
 
 When death has once dissolved her mortal frame, 
 Shall smile to see the traitor vainly weep ; 
 
 Her angry ghost, arising from the deep, 
 
 Shall haunt thee waking, and disturb thy sleep. 
 
 At least my shade thy punishment shall know; 
 And fame shall spread the pleasing news below.” 
 
 But in this passage, if nowhere else, a French 
 translator has surpassed all his English rivals. Pos¬ 
 sibly the fervid passion of the scene, worked up as it 
 
DIDO. 
 
 81 
 
 is almost to exaggeration, is more akin to the genius 
 of the French language.* 
 
 * Delille’s fine translation of this passage is so little known 
 to English readers that it may well find room in a note :— 
 
 “ Non—tu n’es point le fils de la mere d’Amour ; 
 
 Au sang de Dardanus tu ne dois point le jour ; 
 
 N’impute point aux dieux la naissance d’un traitre— 
 
 Non, du sang d’heros un raonstre n’a pu naitre; 
 
 Non.—Le Caucase affreux, t’engendrant en fureur, 
 
 De ses plus durs rochers fit ton barbare coeur, 
 
 Et du tigre inhumain la compagne sauvage. 
 
 Cruel! avec son lait t’a fait sucer sa rage. 
 
 Car eafin qui m’arrete ? Apres ses durs refus, 
 
 Apres tant de mepris, qu’attendrais-je de plus ? 
 
 S’est-il laisse flecliir a mes cris douloureux ? 
 
 A-t-il au mains daigne tourner vers moi les yeux ? 
 Prosternee a ses pieds, plaintive, suppliante, 
 
 N’a-t-il pas d’un front calme ecoute son amanfce ? 
 
 • •••••• 
 
 Sans secours, sans asile, errant de mers en mers, 
 
 Par les flots en courroux jete dans nos deserts, 
 
 Je l’ai re<?u, l’ingrat! des fureurs de l’orage 
 J’ai sauve ses sujets, ses vaisseaux de naufrage, 
 
 Je lui donne mon coeur, men empire, ma main : 
 
 O fureur, et voila que ce monstre inliumain 
 Ose imputer aux dieux son horrible parjure, 
 
 Me parle et d’Apollon, et d’oracle, et d’augure ! 
 
 Pour presser son depart, l’ambassadeur des dieux 
 Est descendu vers lui de la voute des cieux : 
 
 Dignes soins, en effet, de ces maltres du monde ! 
 
 Eu effet, sa grandeur trouble leur paix profonde! 
 
 —C’en est assez ; va, pars ; je ne te retiens pas; 
 
 Va chercher loin de moi je ne sais quels etats : 
 
 S’il est’ encore an dieu redoubtable aux ingrats, 
 
 J’espere que bientot, pour prix d’un si grand crime, 
 
 Brise contre un ecueil, plonge dans un abime, 
 
 Tu pairas mes malheurs, perfide ! et de Didon 
 Ta voix, ta voix plaintive invoquera le mon.” 
 
 A. c. vol. V. 
 
 F 
 
82 
 
 THE JENEID. 
 
 We cannot, however, do better than return to Mr 
 Conington’s version for the sequel:— 
 
 “ Her speech half done, she breaks away, 
 And sickening shuns the light of day, 
 And tears her from his gaze ; 
 
 While he, with thousand things to say, 
 Still falters and delays : 
 
 Her servants lift the sinking fair, 
 
 And to her marble chamber bear ” 
 
 The Trojans prepare to depart; but the enamoured 
 queen makes one more despairing effort to detain her 
 faithless guest. She sends her sister to ask at least 
 for some short space of delay—until she shall have 
 schooled herself to bear his loss. Hineas is obdurate 
 in his “piety.” Then her last resolve is taken. She 
 cheats her sister into the belief that she has found 
 some spells potent enough to restrain the truant lover. 
 Part of the charm is that his armour, and all that 
 had belonged to him while in her company, must be 
 consumed by fire. So a lofty pile is built in the 
 palace-court; but it is to be the funeral pile of Dido. 
 As she looks forth from the turret of her palace at day¬ 
 break, she sees the ships of iEneas already far in the 
 offing; for, warned again by Mercury that there will 
 be risk of his departure being prevented by force if he 
 delays, he has already set sail under cover of the night. 
 Por a moment the queen thinks of ordering her seamen 
 to give chase; but it is a mere passing phase of her 
 despair. She contents herself with imprecating an 
 eternal enmity between his race and hers—fulfilled, aa 
 
DIDO. 
 
 83 
 
 the poet means us to bear in mind, in the long and 
 bloody wars between Eome and Carthage. 
 
 u And, Tyrians, you through time to come 
 His seed with deathless hatred chase: 
 
 Be that your gift to Dido’s tomb : 
 
 No love, no league ’twixt race and race. 
 
 Bise from my ashes, scourge of crime, 
 
 Born to pursue the Dardan horde 
 To-day, to-morrow, through all time, 
 
 Oft as our hands can wield the sword : 
 
 Fight shore with shore, fight sea with sea, 
 
 Fight all that are, or e’er shall be ! ” 
 
 With a master’s hand the poet enhances the glories 
 of his country by this prophetic introduction of the 
 terrible Hannibal. The peaceful empire of Csesar, 
 before whom East and West bow, is thrown into the 
 broadest light by reference to those early days when 
 Home lay almost at the mercy of her implacable enemy 
 
 “ Then, maddening over crime, the queen 
 
 With bloodshot eyes, and sanguine streaks 
 Fresh painted on her quivering cheeks, 
 
 And wanning o’er with death foreseen, 
 
 Through inner portals wildly fares, 
 
 Scales the high pile with swift ascent, 
 
 Takes up the Dardan sword and bares— 
 
 Sad gift, for different uses meant. 
 
 She eyed the robes w r ith wistful look, 
 
 And pausing, thought awhile and wept; 
 
 Then pressed her to the couch and spoke 
 Her last good-niglit or ere she slept. 
 
 * Sweet relics of a time of love, 
 
 When fate and heaven were kind. 
 
84 
 
 THE JENEID. 
 
 Receive my life-blood, and remove 
 These torments of the mind. 
 
 My life is lived, and I have played 
 The part that Fortune gave, 
 
 And now I pass, a queenly shade, 
 
 Majestic to the grave. 
 
 A glorious city I have built, 
 
 Have seen my walls ascend ; 
 
 Chastised for blood of husband spilt, 
 
 A brother, yet no friend : 
 
 Blest lot! yet lacked one blessing more, 
 
 That Troy had never touched my shore ! ’ ” 
 
 So she mounts the funeral pile, and stabs herself 
 with the Trojan’s sword, her sister Anna coming upon 
 the scene only in time to receive the parting breath. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE FUNERAL GAMES. 
 
 Far off at sea, ^Eneas and Ms crew see the flames go 
 up from Dido’s palace. 
 
 “ What cause has lit so fierce a flame 
 They know not; but the pangs of shame 
 From great love wronged, and what despair 
 Will make a baffled woman dare,— 
 
 All this they know ; and knowing tread 
 The paths of presage vague and dread ” 
 
 Not yet is their course clear for Italy. A storm 
 comes on, and they make for refuge towards the 
 friendly coast of Sicily, and run their vessels into a 
 sheltered hay under Mount Eryx. Their return is 
 gladly welcomed by their late host, Acestes, who 
 receives the wanderers, as before, with princely hos¬ 
 pitality, still mindful of his own Trojan blood. It 
 chances that the morrow is the anniversary of tho 
 burial of Anchises; and iEneas, summoning an open- 
 air council of his crews, announces to them his inten¬ 
 tion of commemorating his father by a solemn public 
 
86 
 
 THE JLNEID. 
 
 sacrifice. It is a day which—wherever his lot may 
 he hereafter cast—he will ever keep holy; and not 
 without some providential guidance, as he deems, has 
 this opportunity been afforded him, by his being 
 driven hack to Sicily, of celebrating it on friendly 
 soil under the auspices of his kinsman. There shall 
 he nine days of sacrifice and prayer; then shall follow 
 funeral games, with prizes at his own cost. 
 
 The sacrificial oxen are duly slain, and the libations 
 
 poured at the tomb of Anchises; the howls of new 
 
 milk, of wine, and of blood, and the fresh spring 
 
 flowers, which were reckoned acceptable offerings to 
 
 the dead. Then HCneas lifts his voice in prayer to 
 
 the shade of the hero, and a startling omen follows 
 
 the invocation. A serpent, dappled with green and 
 
 gold, glides out of the tomb, tastes of the offerings, 
 
 and disappears again. iEneas sees in the creature the 
 
 tutelary genius of the spot, or, it may be, the special 
 
 attendant of his father’s shade. In either case, he 
 
 * * 
 
 accepts its appearance as a good omen, and joyfully 
 redoubles his devotions. 
 
 In the funeral games which follow, the Roman poet 
 no doubt had two models in his mind. He was ambi¬ 
 tious to reproduce, or perhaps to rival, in Roman song, 
 for an audience of his countrymen, the grand descrip¬ 
 tion which his great master Homer had given of the 
 games which Achilles celebrates in honour of the dead 
 Patroclus. He wished also, there can be little doubt, 
 to pay a poet’s best compliment to his imperial patron, ]/ 
 and to weave into his song, with such licence of einbel* 
 lishment as is allowed to all poets, a record of thos« 
 
THE FUNERAL GAMES. 
 
 87 
 
 funeral games which Augustus had instituted in re¬ 
 membrance of his uncle, the great Dictator Julius. 
 But Yirgil is here very far from being a mere copyist 
 from Homer. In lieu of the chariot-race, the great 
 feature in the games of the Iliad, he has given us a 
 galley-race, the incidents of which are quite as excit¬ 
 ing, and to our modern comprehensions more thoroughly 
 intelligible. 
 
 The day fixed for the great spectacle has arrived, 
 and the Sicilians from far and near flock to it, some to 
 take part in the games, and all to see. First of the 
 various contests comes the galley-race, for which four 
 of the fastest vessels in the fleet have entered—the 
 Shark, the Centaur, the Chimsera, and the Scylla; 
 each displaying, no doubt, as its figure-head, a repre¬ 
 sentation of the monster whose name it bore. Their 
 captains were men well known. Humouring a gene¬ 
 alogical fancy of his Roman countrymen for tracing 
 their descent to some one of the old Trojan colonists, 
 —much after the fashion of English houses who try 
 to find an ancestor on the Roll of Battle Abbey,—the 
 poet tells us that three at least out of the four gave 
 their names in due time to patrician houses in Rome. 
 Mnestheus, who commands the Shark, left his name 
 (certainly with considerable modification) to the gens 
 or clan of Memmius. The captain of the Centaur, 
 Sergestus, is in like manner the reputed ancestor of 
 the Sergian clan, as Cloanthus, who sails the Scylla, is 
 of the Cluentian. Only Gyas, the captain of the 
 Chimaera, a bulky craft, “as big as a town,” has no 
 such genealogical honours assigned him. 
 
88 
 
 THE JEN El D. 
 
 The course lies out in the hay, and the competing 
 vessels are to round a rock, covered at high tides, on 
 which an oak has been set up, leaves and all, to serve 
 as a mark for the steersmen. They take up their 
 positions by lot, and await the signal, to be given 
 by sound of trumpet. The picture of the start would 
 suit, with wonderfully little alteration, the description 
 of a modern University boat-race :— 
 
 “ And now on rowing-bench they sit, 
 
 Bend to the oar their arms close knit, 
 
 And straining watch the sign to start, 
 
 While generous trembling fills each heart, 
 
 And thirst for victory. 
 
 Then, at the trumpet’s piercing sound, 
 
 All from their stations onward bound : 
 
 Upsoars to heaven the oarsmen’s shout, 
 
 The upturned billows froth and spout. 
 
 • * • • • 
 
 With plaudits loud and clamorous zeal 
 Echoes the woodland round ; 
 
 The pent shores roll the thunder-peal, 
 
 The stricken hills resound.” 
 
 [Our modern oarsmen would certainly be wiser in this, 
 that they would reserve their own breath (of which 
 they would find considerable need towards the end of 
 the race), and leave the whole of the shouting to be 
 done by enthusiastic spectators.] 
 
 “ First G} r as issues from the rout, 
 
 And holds the foremost place : 
 
 Cloanthus next; his oarsmen row 
 More featly, but his bark is slow, 
 
 And checks him in the race. 
 
THE FUNERAL GAMES . 
 
 89 
 
 Behind at equal distance strain 
 Centaur and Shark the lead to gain ; 
 
 And now the Shark darts forth, and now 
 The Centaur lias advanced her bow; 
 
 And now the twain move side by side, 
 
 Their long keels trailing through the tide” 
 
 So goes the race, until the galleys near the rock which 
 they have to round. Gj r as sees that his steersman, 
 from over caution, is giving it too wide a berth, and 
 that there is danger of the Scylla, more venturous, 
 cutting in between. He shouts an order to keep 
 closer in ; but the old seaman is somewhat obstinate, 
 and it is very soon too late. Cloanthus has seen his 
 advantage, shot round the rock at very close quarters, 
 and now leaves Gyas in the Chimsera behind. Burn¬ 
 ing with fury, Gyas turns on his steersman, and 
 pitches him into the sea. Happily he can swim, and 
 the rock is close at hand ; he climbs upon it, and sits 
 there dripping, to the considerable amusement of the 
 spectators, who, like all lookers-on, seem unmercifully 
 alive to the ludicrous element in any disaster 
 
 Deprived of her helmsman, the huge Chimaera loses 
 her course for a moment, and the two galleys in the 
 rear are quick to take advantage of it. The Shark 
 and Centaur are now rounding the rock almost side by 
 side. But Sergestus, in his eagerness not to lose an 
 inch of advantage, emulates the manoeuvre of the Scylla 
 too closely, and takes the Centaur too near. Her 
 broadside of oars touch some of the jutting crags, the 
 oars are broken, and the boat’s head takes the rock, 
 and hangs there hard and fast. All efforts of the 
 
90 
 
 THE HEN ElD. 
 
 crew to get her off are unavailing. Mnestheus makes 
 the dangerous turn safely on the outside of his rival, 
 and his men, encouraged by success, redouble their 
 efforts. The Chimsera has no good steersman to re¬ 
 place old Mencetes, who is still drying himself on the 
 rock, and she is easily passed on the return course 
 homewards. The struggle becomes now one of intense 
 interest between Mnestheus and Cloanthus, who is 
 still leading in the Scylla. 
 
 “ The cheers redouble from the shore; 
 
 Heaven echoes noth the wild uproar; 
 
 Those blush to lose a conquering game, 
 
 And fain would peril life for fame; 
 
 These bring success their zeal to fan— 
 
 They can, because they think they can.” 
 
 The Shark has a stern chase, but the Scvlla rows 
 heavily, as we have been told, though she has the 
 best crew, and the distance lessens at every stroke. 
 Had the course been longer, the Shark would have 
 made at least a dead heat of it. But as it is, amidst a 
 storm of shouts, the Scylla wins. The turning-point 
 of victory is one which does not approve itself to 
 modern readers. The sea-deities interfere. Standing 
 high upon his quarter-deck, Cloanthus lifts his prayer 
 to the powers of ocean, not to permit his prize to be 
 snatched from him at the last. He vows an offering 
 of a milk-white bull and libations of red wine if they 
 will help him at his need. 
 
 “ He said ; there heard him ’neath the sea 
 The Nereid train and Panope; 
 
THE FUNERAL GAMES. 
 
 91 
 
 And with his hand divinely strong, 
 
 Portunus* pushed the bark along.” 
 
 Possibly, after all, the poet only means us to under* 
 stand that this was Mnestheus’s explanation of his 
 defeat—that the luck was against him.t 
 
 Cloanthus is crowned with bays as the victor of the 
 day, and receives as his prize an embroidered robe of 
 rare device—one of those miracles of divers colours of 
 needlework in which the classical age seems to have as 
 far excelled us as the mediaeval ladies certainly did. 
 Each crew receives three oxen and a supply of wine, 
 while a talent of silver is divided amongst the men of 
 the victorious Scylla. Mnestheus, as second in the 
 race, wins a shirt of mail whose scales are of gold, 
 which two of his attendants bear off with difficulty. 
 The third of the captains has a pair of brazen caldrons 
 and chased silver bowls. But while the awards are 
 being distributed, the crippled Centaur has got off 
 the rock, and is brought into harbour; and a Cretan 
 slave-woman, with her twin children, is allotted, by 
 the liberality of iEneas, as a consolation to her captain. 
 
 * One of the Roman sea-deities. 
 
 *f* Such explanations of an unfavourable result are not en¬ 
 tirely unknown in the annals of modern boat-races. Reasons 
 of a very apocryphal kind, if not so boldly mythological, have 
 been assigned by modern captains of crews for their having been 
 beaten. When an unsuccessful oarsman recounts his deeds to 
 a sympathetic audience, and “tells how fields were” not won, 
 he is apt to complain that, in some form or other, the river- 
 gods were unjust. The state of the tide, or an intruding barge, 
 or an imprudent supper on the part of “ No. 7,” takes the place 
 of Panope and Portunus. 
 
92 
 
 THE JENE1D. 
 
 From the shore of the hay the company now move 
 off to a natural amphitheatre close at hand, where the 
 rest of the games are to he exhibited. HUneas takes 
 his place high in the midst on an extemporised throne. 
 For the foot-race, which comes first on the list, a 
 crowd of competitors enter, both of native Sicilians and 
 of their Trojan guests. Among the Sicilians are Sal- 
 ius and Patron, of Greek families settled in the island, 
 and Helymus and Panopes, friends and companions of 
 Acestes. The favourites among the Trojans are Diores, 
 one of the many sons of Priam, and Nisus and Eury- 
 alus, noted for their romantic friendship, of which we 
 shall hear more hereafter. The prizes in this contest 
 are a war-horse with full trappings for the first, an 
 Amazonian quiver for the second, and a helmet—the 
 spoil of some conquered Greek on the plain of Troy— 
 for the third. Nisus goes off with a strong lead, and 
 has the race easily in hand. Next him, hut at a long 
 interval, conies Salius, Euryalus lying third, Helymus 
 and Diores, close together, fourth and fifth. But 
 when within a short distance of the goal, Nisus slips 
 up in the blood and filth which has been left un¬ 
 cleared at the spot where the oxen have been sacrificed, 
 and falls heavily to the ground. Knowing himself 
 to be out of the race, he determines that his dear 
 Euryalus shall win. So, by a piece of most unjusti¬ 
 fiable jockeyship, which ought to have led to his being 
 warned off from all such contests for ever after, he 
 rises up at the moment that Salius is passing, and 
 brings him down upon him. Euryalus has thus an 
 easy victory, Helymus and Diores coming in second 
 
THE FUNERAL GAMES. 
 
 93 
 
 and third. Very naturally, there is much dispute 
 about the award. Salius complains loudly of unfair 
 play ; hut young Euryalus is handsome and popular, 
 and Diores backs his claim energetically; for it is very 
 evident that if Salius is adjudged the first prize, 
 Euryalus the second, and Helymus the third, then he 
 •—Diores—will be nowhere. So the result is accepted 
 by the judges as it stands. But iEneas quiets the 
 reasonable objections of Salius by the present of a 
 lion’s hide with gilded claws. Then Nisus makes 
 appeal for compensation, pointing out to the laughing 
 spectators the blood and dirt which are the very 
 disagreeable evidences of his mishap, and protesting, 
 with a consummate impudence which suits with the 
 popular humour, that the whole thing was an accident, 
 and that he, as the winner that would have been, is 
 the real object of commiseration. If a fall deserves a 
 prize, who has so good a claim as the man who fell 
 first ? Again the generosity of ^Eneas answers the 
 appeal, and Hisus is presented with a shield of the 
 finest workmanship, another Greek trophy. Suc¬ 
 cessful knavery, if the knave be somewhat of a 
 humourist withal, always wins a sort of sympathy 
 from the public—in the Augustan epic as well as in 
 modern comedy. 
 
 The prizes of the foot-race having been thus decided, 
 the lists are cleared for the boxing-match. The boxing- 
 match of the classical ancients was very different in¬ 
 deed from a modern set-to. The combatants certainly 
 wore gloves; but these were meant to add weight and 
 force to the blow, not to deaden it. The stoutest 
 
94 
 
 THE yENEID. 
 
 champion of tne modern prize-ring might shrink from 
 encountering an antagonist whose fists were bound 
 round with strips of hardened ox-hide. But such was 
 the “ caestus ” which was worn by the pugilists of this 
 heroic age. The prizes are displayed by EEneas; for 
 the conqueror, a bull with gilded horns; a helmet and 
 falchion for the loser. Up rises the Trojan Dares, 
 whose strength and skill are well known. The only 
 man whom he acknowledged as his superior in the ring 
 was one whom we might have least expected—Paris, 
 who certainly bears no such reputation in Homer. At 
 the great games held in honour of the dead Hector, of 
 which we have the very briefest note in the Iliad, 
 Dares had defeated the huge champion Butes, sprung 
 from a race of athletes, and so mangled him that he 
 died on the spot. Ho wonder that when he now steps 
 forth, and goes through some preparatory sparring 
 with the air, no one is found bold enough to put on 
 the gloves with him. So, after a glance of triumph 
 round the admiring circle, he advances to where the 
 bull stands in front of iEneas, lays his hand upon its 
 horns, and claims it as his rightful property in default 
 of an antagonist. 
 
 King Acestes is concerned for the honour of Sicily. 
 There is lying beside him on the grass a grey-haired 
 chief named Entellus, sometime a pupil in this art of 
 the great hero Eryx, who gave his name to the moun¬ 
 tain which overhangs the place of assembly. Will he 
 sit tamely by, Acestes asks, and see this Trojan boaster 
 carry off the prize and the glory unchallenged ? Entel¬ 
 lus listens to his friend, and feels the old fire stir 
 
THE FUNERAL GAMES. 
 
 95 
 
 within him. He would willingly enter the ring once 
 more for the honour of his native island,— 
 
 “ But strength is slack in limbs grown old, 
 
 And aged blood runs dull and cold. 
 
 Had I the thing I once possessed, 
 
 Which makes yon braggart rear his crest. 
 
 Had I but youth, no need had been 
 Of gifts, to lure me to the green.” 
 
 He rises from his seat, however, and throws down in 
 the arena, by way of challenge, a pair of ancient gloves 
 of a most murderous pattern. Seven folds of tough 
 bull-hide have knobs of lead and iron sewn inside 
 them. They are the gloves in which the hero Eryx 
 fought his fatal battle with Hercules, whom he had 
 rashly challenged, and they still bear the blood-stains 
 of Eryx’s previous victories. Dares, stout champion 
 as he is, starts back in dismay when he sees them, and 
 iEneas himself takes them up and handles them with 
 wonder. Entellus, however, will not insist on using 
 these ; and two pair of less formidable manufacture 
 and of equal weight are produced, with which the two 
 heroes engage. Virgil’s description of this ancient 
 prize-fight is highly spirited. It may remind some 
 readers, who are old enough to remember such things, 
 of the bulletins of similar encounters between a “ light¬ 
 weight” and a “heavy-weight,” furnished in past days 
 by sporting writers to our own newspapers—with the 
 happy omission of the slang of the ring :— 
 
 “ liaised on his toes each champion stands, 
 
 And fearless lifts in air his hands. 
 
96 
 
 THE JEN El D. 
 
 Their heads thrown hack avoid the stroke 
 Their mighty arms the tight provoke. 
 That on elastic youth relies, 
 
 This on vast limbs and giant size; 
 
 But the huge knees with age are slack, 
 And fitful gasps the deep chest rack. 
 
 Full many a blow the heroes rain 
 Each on the other, still in vain: 
 
 Their hollow sides return the sound, 
 Their battered chests the shock rebound: 
 ’Mid ears and temples come and go 
 The wandering gauntlets to and fro : 
 
 The jarred teeth chatter ’neath the blow. 
 Firm stands Entellus in his place, 
 
 A column rooted on its base; 
 
 His watchful eye and shrinking frame 
 Alone avoid the gauntlet’s aim. 
 
 Like leaguer who invests a town, 
 
 Or sits before a liill-fort down, 
 
 The younger champion tasks his art 
 To find the bulwark’s weakest part; 
 
 This way and that unwearied scans, 
 
 And vainly tries a thousand plans. 
 Entellus, rising to the blow, 
 
 Puts forth his hand : the wary foe 
 Midway in air the mischief spied, 
 
 And, deftly shifting, slipped aside. 
 Entellus’ force on air is spent: 
 
 Heavily down with prone descent 
 He falls, as from its roots uprent 
 A pine falls hollow, on the side 
 Of Erymanth or lofty Ide. 
 
 Acestes rushes in, like an attentive second, to raise 
 his friend; and Entellus, roused to fury by his fall, 
 renews the fight savagely:— 
 
 
THE FUNERAL GAMES. 
 
 97 
 
 “ AHaze witli fury he pursues 
 The Trojan o’er the green, 
 
 And now his right hand deals the bruise, 
 
 And now his left as keen. 
 
 No pause, no respite : fierce and fast 
 As hailstones rattle down the blast 
 On sloping roofs, with blow on blow, 
 
 He buffets Dares to and fro.” 
 
 The unhappy Dares is borne off by his friends in 
 
 miserable plight,—with half his teeth knocked out, 
 
 blood streaming from his face, and hardly able to stand. 
 
 All the savage has been roused in Entellus’s nature by 
 
 the fight. He is not half satisfied that his victim has 
 
 escaped him. He would gladly have sacrificed him to 
 
 the memory of his great master Eryx,—here, on the 
 
 spot where that hero fought his own last fight. He 
 
 lays his hand upon the bull, the prize of battle, and 
 
 addresses iEneas and the spectators. Dryden’s version 
 
 of this passage, though it contains as much of Dryden 
 
 as of Virgil, has justly been praised as very noble :•— 
 
 % 
 
 “ 0 goddess-born, and ye Dardanian host, 
 
 Mark with attention, and forgive my boast; 
 
 Learn what I was by what remains, and know 
 From what impending fate you saved my foe! 
 
 Sternly he spoke, and then confronts the bull; 
 
 And on his ample forehead aiming full, 
 
 The deadly stroke descending pierced the skull. 
 
 Down drops the beast, nor needs a second wound, 
 
 But sprawls-in pangs of death, and spurns the ground. 
 
 4 Then thus, in Dares’ stead, I offer this : 
 
 Eryx, accept a nobler sacrifice ; 
 
 Take the last gift my withered arms can yield— 
 
 Thy gauntlets I resign, and here renounce the field.* " 
 
 A. C. Vol. V. Q 
 
98 
 
 THE jENEID. 
 
 Mr Conington lias well remarked that here we have, 
 no doubt, *• the veteran combatant’s feelings as con¬ 
 ceived by the veteran poet.” He wrote the lines in 
 his sixty-second year, and they harmonise pathetically 
 with the words in his dedication : “ What I now offer 
 to your lordship is the wretched remainder of a sickly 
 age.” We are not obliged to take this self-depreciation 
 too literally: whatever may be the shortcomings of 
 Dryden’s translation, the hand of the old poet had no 
 more lost its vigour than that of Entellus. 
 
 The archers are next to try their skill. In this 
 contest Acestes himself takes part. The other com¬ 
 petitors are Mnestheus, whose crew were just now 
 second in the race; Eurytion, a brother of Pandarus, 
 the great archer of the Iliad, whose treacherous arrow, 
 launched against Menelaus during the truce, had well- 
 nigh turned the fate of Troy; and Hippocoon, of 
 whom we know nothing more. He draws the first 
 lot, and his arrow strikes the mast on which the mark, 
 a live dove, is perched. Mnestheus shoots next, and 
 cuts the cord which fetters her; and as she flies away 
 a shaft from Eurytion’s bow follows and kills her. 
 There is nothing left for Acestes to do, but to shoot an 
 arrow high in the air to show the strength of his hand 
 and his bow. To the astonishment of the gazers, the 
 arrow takes fire, and, leaving a trail of light on its 
 path like a shooting-star, vanishes in the sky. It is 
 an omen, as zEneas declares ; it must be that the gods, 
 in spite of facts, will him to be the real victor. So 
 the prize — an embossed bowl, a present from the 
 father of Hecuba to Ancliises — is awarded to the 
 
THE FUNERAL GAMES. 
 
 90 
 
 Sicilian prince, even Eurytion, the actnal winner, 
 acquiescing heartily in the arrangement. Yet the 
 omen, as the poet tells us, really boded disaster; 
 though whether to Sicily or to the Trojans, or how it 
 was afterwards fulfilled, he does not stop to explain. 
 Commentators have, as a matter of duty, done so for 
 him; hut it is hardly worth while to vex ourselves 
 with their conjectures on a point on which iEneas 
 himself was mistaken. 
 
 The games are over—at least, so far as the public 
 programme seems to have gone. But Hkneas has a 
 surprise in store for his hosts. He whispers privately 
 to the governor or tutor of his son lulus, while he 
 requests the company once more to clear the amphi¬ 
 theatre. Soon there sweeps into the ring the young 
 chivalry of Troy — a goodly company of mounted 
 youths, all of noble blood, who are to play out their 
 play before their assembled seniors. 
 
 “ They enter, glittering side by side, 
 
 And rein their steeds with youthful pride, 
 
 As ’neath their fathers’ eyes they ride, 
 
 While all Trinacria’s host and Troy’s 
 With plaudits greet the princely boys. 
 
 Each has his hair by rule confined 
 With stripped-off leaves in garland twined: 
 
 Some ride with shapely bows equipped : 
 
 Two cornel spears they bear, steel-tipped : 
 
 And wreaths of twisted gold invest 
 The neck, and sparkle on the breast. 
 
 Three are the companies of horse, 
 
 And three the chiefs that scour the course: 
 
 Twelve gallant boys each chief obey, 
 
 And shine in tripartite array. 
 
TOO 
 
 THE JENEIE. 
 
 Young Priam first, Polites’ heir, 
 
 Well pleased his grandsire’s name to bear, 
 Leads his gay troop, himself decreed 
 To raise up an Italian seed : 
 
 He prances forth, all dazzling bright, 
 
 On Thracian steed with spots of white: 
 White on its fetlock’s front is seen, 
 
 And white the space its brows between. 
 Then Atys, next in place, from whom 
 The Atian family descend : 
 
 Young Atys, fresh with life’s first bloom. 
 The boy lulus’ sweet boy-friend: 
 lulus last, in form and face 
 Pre-eminent his peers above, 
 
 A courser rides of Tyrian race, 
 
 Memorial gift of Dido’s love. 
 
 Sicilian steeds the rest bestride 
 Prom old Acestes’ stalls supplied. 
 
 The Dardanids with mingling cheers 
 Relieve the young aspirants’ fears, 
 
 And gaze delighted, as they trace 
 A parent’s mien in each fair face. 
 
 11 And now, when all from first to last 
 Beneath their kinsfolk’s eyes had past, 
 Before the assembled crowd, 
 
 Epytides shrills forth from far 
 His signal-shout, as if for war, 
 
 And cracks his whip aloud. 
 
 In equal parts the bands divide, 
 
 And gallop off on either side : 
 
 Then wheeling round in full career 
 Charge at a call with levelled spear 
 Again, again they come and go, 
 
 Through adverse spaces to and fro; 
 Circles in circles interlock, 
 
THE FUNERAL GAMES. 
 
 101 
 
 And, sheathed in arms, the gazers mock 
 With mimicry of battle-shock. 
 
 And now they turn their backs in flight, 
 
 Now put their spears in rest, 
 
 And now in amity unite, 
 
 And ride the field abreast.” 
 
 Such was the Ludus Trojae—“ The Game of Troy ” 
 •—introduced, according to the poet, by lulus in after¬ 
 days into his new-built town of Alba, and borrowed 
 from Alba by the Romans. Whatever its origin may 
 have been, it was revived at Rome by Augustus, in 
 his zeal for restorations of all kinds, as “ an ancient 
 and honourable institution.” Princes of the imperial 
 house—young Marcellus, and Tiberius the future em¬ 
 peror—rode, like lulus, in the show; the emperor 
 himself took a warm interest in it; and the eagerness 
 of the young patricians to distinguish themselves in 
 the various manoeuvres before his eyes and those of 
 their friends led to serious accidents. To one young 
 horseman who was crippled by his fall Augustus gave 
 a golden torque, and granted to him and his family 
 permission to bear the name of “Torquatus”—re¬ 
 nowned in the early annals of Rome. But other acci¬ 
 dents happened, and led to such loud complaints that 
 the sport was discontinued. 
 
 But while the eyes of Trojans and Sicilians are 
 engaged with this spectacle, a terrible proceeding has 
 taken place down on the shore. The ships, as usual, 
 are drawn up there hard and fast upon the sand. 
 The Trojan matrons are gathered near them, making 
 moan for the good Anchises — for the games are a 
 
102 
 
 THE JENE1B. 
 
 spectacle for men. They are looking wistfully, too, 
 across the sea, thinking how far they have sailed 
 already, and liow far they may yet have to sail. The 
 watchful hate of Juno sees her opportunity. She 
 despatches Iris down to them in the shape of one 
 of their number—Beroe. She harangues them elo¬ 
 quently. How long will they be content to live this J 
 wandering life, in search of a distant home—which 
 possibly has no existence but in deceitful prophecies 1 J 
 The disguised Iris seizes a brand and rushes towards 
 
 the ships. While the rest hesitate, one of their numv 
 her detects the star-like eyes and celestial gait. It is 
 not old Beroe—nay, she, to the witness’s own know¬ 
 ledge, lies at this verv moment sick in bed. It is no 
 less than a visitor from heaven. They hesitate no 
 longer : they snatch the embers from the altars, and 
 in a moment the deed is done, and the galleys are in ^ 
 flames. The news is brought to Hhieas just as the 
 gay parade of youths is ending; and Ascanius gallops 
 at once down to the shore, dashes his helmet on 
 the ground that all may know him, and implores the 
 furious women to stay their hands. Do they fancy 
 they are burning the war-ships of the Greeks 1 His 
 voice recalls them to themselves, and in guilty fear 
 and shame they fly to hide themselves among the 
 rocks and woods. iEneas rends his clothes, and 
 appeals to Jupiter. The ruler of the sky hears, and 
 sends down a thunder-shower which drenches every¬ 
 thing on sea and shore, so that all but four galleys 
 escape with little damage. 
 
 But zEneas is troubled at heart. May not this mad 
 
THE FUNERAL GAMES. 
 
 103 
 
 Instinct of tlie women be right, after all? Were 
 it not better to rest here in Sicily, than wander on 
 again over the weary ocean in quest of this .Western 
 Land? He takes counsel with the Nestor of the fleet 
 —the aged Nautes—to whom the goddess of wisdom 
 has given an understanding spirit beyond his fellows. 
 The old seaman’s motto is one of the poet’s noblest 
 utterances *— 
 
 “ Wliate’er betides, he only cures 
 The stroke of fortune who endures.” 
 
 He bids his chief take counsel, too, with Acestes. In 
 the visions of the night the shade of his father Ancliises 
 once more appears to him, and gives the same advice 
 as Nautes. It is settled that the women and the old 
 men, and all that are weary and faint-hearted, shall be 
 left behind in Sicily, while the picked band Of good 
 men and true sail on with their leader into the west, 
 thus their reduced number of ships will yet suffice 
 them.t The damaged galleys are hastily repaired, and 
 the foundations of a new town are marked out for the 
 Trojan settlers: it is to be called Acesta, in honour of 
 
 * “ Superanda omnis fortuna ferendo est.” 
 
 + Virgil himself has no word of reproach for these weaker 
 spirits, who thus preferred the rest of Sicily to the far-off hopes 
 of Hesperia. But his impassioned pupil Dante is less merciful: 
 he classes them in his “ Purgatory ” with the murmuring Israel¬ 
 ites :— 
 
 “ First they died, to whom the sea 
 Opened, or ever Jordan saw his heirs ; 
 
 And they who with yEneas to the end 
 • Endured not suffering, for their portion chose 
 Life without glory.” 
 
 —Purg. xviii. (Cary.) 
 
104 
 
 THE jENEID. 
 
 their kind host. The parting of the wanderers from 
 their friends is a fine passage, finely rendered :— 
 
 “ With kindliness of gentle speech 
 The good iEneas comforts each, 
 
 And to their kinsman prince commends 
 With tears his subjects and his friends. 
 
 Three calves to Eryx next he kills ; 
 
 A lambkin’s blood to Tempest spills, 
 
 And bids them loose from land: 
 
 With olive-leaves he binds his brow, 
 
 Then takes his station on the prow, 
 
 A charger in his hand, 
 
 Flings out the entrails on the brine, 
 
 And pours a sacred stream of wine. 
 
 Fair winds escort them o’er the deep : 
 
 With emulous stroke the waves they sweep.” 
 
CHAPTER VL 
 
 THE SIBYL AND THE SHADES. 
 
 The Sea-god, at Venus’s intercession for her son, sends 
 iEneas and his crews calm seas and prosperous gales. 
 One victim only the Eates demand; Palinuru s, the 
 pilot of ^Eneas’s ship, gives way to sleep during the 
 quiet watches of the night, slips overboard, and is 
 lost. The poet has clothed the whole story in a trans¬ 
 parent mythological allegory, and which must have 
 been intended to be transparent. Sleep is personified; 
 Palinurus resists his first temptations ; but the god 
 waves over his eyes a bough steeped in dews of Lethe, 
 the river of forgetfulness, and the unhappy steersman 
 can hold out no longer. The accident happens near 
 the shore of the twin Sirens, of whose seductions 
 Homer has told us in the wanderings of Ulysses :— 
 
 “ A perilous neighbourhood of yore 
 And white with mounded bones, 
 
 Where the hoarse sea with far-heard roar 
 Keeps washing o’er the stones.” 
 
 ffineas discovers his loss by the unsteady course of 
 
106 
 
 THE jENEID. 
 
 the galley, and takes the helm himself, until he brings 
 the little fleet safe into the liarhour of Cumae. The 
 crews disembark, with the joy which these seamen of 
 old always felt when they touched land again, and 
 proceed at -once to search for water, cut wood, and 
 light fires :— 
 
 “ Sage Daedalus—so runs the tale— 
 
 From Minos bent to fly, 
 
 On feathery pinions dared to sail 
 Along the untravelled sky ; 
 
 Flies northward through the polar heights, 
 Nor stays till he on Cumae lights. 
 
 First landed here, he consecrates 
 The wings whereon he flew 
 To Phoebus’ power, and dedicates 
 A fane of stately view.” 
 
 Here HCneas consults the mysterious Sibyl, whose 
 oracular verses are referred to in Virgil’s Pastoral 
 already noticed. She figures under various names in 
 classical story—that which she bears here is DeiphobA 
 Her dwelling is in a cave in the rock behind the 
 temple, with which it communicates by a hundred 
 doors. Within sits the prophetess on a tripod, where 
 she receives the inspiration of the god. When the 
 oracle is pronounced, the doors all fly open, and the 
 sound comes forth. But there is one way in which 
 she is wont to give her answers, against which 
 Helenus has already warned her present visitors. She 
 has a habit of jotting down her responses in verse 
 upon the leaves of trees—each verse apparently on a 
 separate leaf—and then piling them one upon another 
 
THE SIBYL AND THE SHADES. 
 
 107 
 
 in her cave. When the doors fly open, the gust of 
 wind whirls the leaves here and there in all directions; 
 and the ambiguities which are proper to all oracles are 
 considerably increased in the process of rearranging 
 the several leaves into anything like coherent order— 
 the Sibyl herself disdaining all further interference. 
 So that many of her clients go away without having 
 received any intelligible answer at all, and from that 
 time forth “hate the very name of the Sibyl.” A 
 modern writer,* 1 whose poetical taste has made him 
 one of the most interesting critics of Virgil, has 
 thought that the confusion of the prophetic leaves 
 was meant to symbolise the idea that the will of the 
 gods was made known to mortals only in disjointed 
 utterances, and under no regular law of order. iEneas, 
 therefore, in his appeal to the prophetess, begs her 
 specially to give her answer by word of mouth. 
 
 Deiphobk proceeds to the seat of augury, and goes 
 through the terrible struggle which, according to all 
 legends, invariably accompanied this form of prophecy. 
 Even when she comes in view of the awful doors, the 
 influence begins:— 
 
 “ Her visage pales its hue, 
 
 Her locks dishevelled fly, 
 
 Her breath comes thick, her wild heart glows ; 
 Dilating as the madness grows, 
 
 Her form looks larger to the eye, 
 
 Unearthly peals her deep-toned cry, 
 
 As breathing nearer and more near 
 The God comes rushing on his seex.’* 
 
 * Keble. 
 
108 
 
 TEE jENEID. 
 
 The paroxysms increase after she has entered the cave, 
 and is in the agonies of inspiration :— 
 
 “ The seer, impatient of control, 
 
 Eaves in the cavern vast, 
 
 And madly struggles from her soul 
 The incumbent power to cast. 
 
 He, mighty Master, plies the more 
 Her foaming mouth, all chafed and sore, 
 
 Tames her wild heart with plastic hand, 
 
 And makes her docile to command.” 
 
 At last all the hundred doors fly open at once, and 
 the voice of destiny comes forth. The wanderers 
 shall reach Latium safely, but they shall wish they 
 had never reached it. 
 
 “ War, dreadful war, and Tiber flood 
 j I see incarnadined with blood ; 
 
 Simois and Xanthus, and the plain 
 Where Greece encamped shall rise again: 
 
 A new Achilles, goddess-born, 
 
 The destinies provide, 
 
 And Juno, like a rankling thorn, 
 v Shall never quit your side. 
 
 • • • • 
 
 The old, old cause shall stir the strife— 
 
 A stranger bed, a foreign wife. 
 
 Yet still despond not, but proceed 
 Along the path where Fate may lead.” 
 
 iEneas hears,—undismayed. He is a true hero so far, 
 that he is always equal to his fate. One request he 
 makes of the Sibyl,—that he may visit the shades be¬ 
 low, the entrance to which is said to lie here, within 
 the prophetess’s domain, and there see again the faco of 
 
THE SIBYL AND THE SHADES. 
 
 109 
 
 his father. Deiphobfc consents, but not without the 
 solemn warning, often quoted to point a far higher 
 moral than the heathen poet was likely to have con¬ 
 ceived—so often, that the Latin words themselves are 
 probably familiar even to those who profess but little 
 Latin scholarship:— 
 
 u Facilis descensus Avemi ; 
 
 Noctes atque dies patet atra janua Ditis ; 
 
 Sed revocare gradum, superasque evadere ad auras. 
 Hoc opus, hie labor est.” 
 
 Their terseness and pathos are not easy to repro¬ 
 duce in any other language, but Mr Conington has 
 done it as well, perhaps, as it could be done :— 
 
 “ The journey down to the Abyss 
 Is prosperous and light ; 
 
 The palace-gates of gloomy Dis 
 Stand open day and night; 
 
 But upward to retrace the way, 
 
 And pass into the light of day,— 
 
 There comes the stress of labour—this 
 May task a hero’s might.” 
 
 Few are they of mortal birth who, by the special grace 
 of the gods, have achieved that desperate venture with 
 success. Still, if iEneas is determined to attempt it, 
 she will teach him the secret of the passage. Deep 
 in the shades of the^neiglibouring forest there grows 
 a tree which bears a golden bough, which he must find 
 and carry with him into the regions of the dead; it is 
 the gift which Proserpine, who reigns there, claims 
 from all who enter her court. 
 
 Accompanied by his faithful Achates, iEneas enters 
 
110 
 
 THE jENEID . 
 
 the woods in quest of the golden hough. The search 
 seems in vain, until two white doves, the birds of his 
 goddess-mother Venus, make their appearance, and, 
 leading the way by short successive flights, draw the 
 seekers on to the wondrous tree, on which they at 
 last alight. The hero makes prize of the golden 
 branch, with which he returns to the Sibyl. Under 
 her directions he offers the due sacrifices to the infer¬ 
 nal powers—four black bulls, a barren heifer, and. a 
 black ewe-lamb—and then, still under the leading of 
 the prophetess, with drawn sword in his hand, he 
 enters the mouth of Hades. 
 
 “ Along the illimitable shade 
 Darkling and lone their way they made, 
 
 Through the vast kingdom of the dead, 
 
 An empty void, though tenanted. 
 
 So travellers in a forest move 
 With but the uncertain moon above, 
 
 Beneath her niggard light, 
 
 When Jupiter has hid from view 
 The heaven, and Nature’s every hue 
 Is lost in blinding night. 
 
 “ At Orcus’ portals hold their lair 
 Wild Sorrow and avenging Care ; 
 
 And pale Diseases cluster there, 
 
 And pleasureless Decay, 
 
 Foul Penury, and Fears that kill, 
 
 And Hunger, counsellor of ill, 
 
 A ghastly presence they : 
 
 Suffering and Death the threshold keep, 
 
 And with them Death’s blood-brother Sleep: 
 
 Ill Joys with their seducing spells 
 And deadly War are at the doer; 
 
THE SIBYL AND THE SHADES. 
 
 ill 
 
 The Furies couch in iron cells, 
 
 And Discord maddens and rebels; 
 
 Her snake-locks hiss, her wreaths drip gore. 
 
 “ Full in the midst an aged elm 
 Broods darkly o’er the shadowy realm : 
 
 There dream-land phantoms rest the wing, 
 
 Men say, and ’neath its foliage cling. 
 
 And many monstrous shapes beside 
 Within the infernal gates abide; 
 
 There Centaurs, Scyllas, fish and maid, 
 
 There Briareus’ hundred-handed shade, 
 
 Chimsera armed with flame, 
 
 Gorgons and Harpies make their den, 
 
 With the foul pest of Lerna’s fen, 
 
 And Geryon’s triple frame.” 
 
 Then they come in sight of the rivers of Hell—Ache¬ 
 ron, Cocytus, and Styx. The relative physical geo¬ 
 graphy is somewhat confused by the poet, but it is the 
 Styx on which the Ferryman of the Shades, the surly 
 Charon,— 
 
 “ Grim, squalid, foul, with aspect dire, 
 
 His eyeballs each a globe of fire,”— 
 
 plies his office of transporting the dead, performing the 
 duties which Homer assigns to Mercury. But it is not 
 all who even in death are allowed to pass the gloomy 
 river. Only those who have received all due rites of 
 burial can claim to enter the final abode of spirits at 
 once ; those unhappy ones who from any cause lie 
 unburied have to wander, moaning and shivering, on 
 the other side, for a space of a hundred years. So the 
 Sibyl explains to iEneas, when he marks with surprise 
 
112 
 
 THE JEN El B. 
 
 how the shades all crowd eagerly to the boat-side 
 praying for admission, and how the grisly ferryman 
 drives some back with his oar. It is a sad thought to 
 the hero ; for amongst the rejected he sees some of his 
 own companions who had perished in the storm off 
 the coast of Carthage. Among them, too, he sees the 
 figure of his late pilot Palinurus, who tells him the 
 story of his unhappy fate; how, after all, he was not 
 drowned, but, clinging to the piece of rudder which 
 had broken away with him, had drifted three days 
 and nights upon the waves, and had at last swam 
 ashore on the fated coast of Italy. There the cruel 
 natives had attacked and killed him, as he struggled 
 up the cliffs; and now his corpse lies tossed to and 
 fro amid the breakers in the harbour of Yelia. He 
 prays of his leader either to sail back there and to 
 
 “ Give him a little earth for charity; ” 
 
 or, by his influence with these Powers below, to get 
 the law of exclusion relaxed in his favour. This last 
 request the Sibyl rebukes at once, as utterly inorthodox 
 and heretical; but comforts him at the same time 
 with the assurance that the barbarous natives shall be 
 plagued by heaven for their abominable deed, nor 
 shall they find deliverance until they solemnly propi¬ 
 tiate his shade by the erection of a mound and the 
 establishment of funeral honours, and call the spot by 
 the name of Palinurus—which name, the Sibyl declares, 
 shall endure there for ever. The oracular voice in 
 this case was not deceitful : the place, or supposed 
 place, is still called “ Punta di Palinuro.” Virgil’s 
 
THE SIBYL AND THE SHADES 
 
 113 
 
 imperial audience might know it well, for Augustus 
 was very nearly himself becoming a sacrifice on that 
 very spot to the manes of the ancient pilot, many of 
 his ships having been cast away on that very head¬ 
 land. 
 
 Charon is by no means gracious to the intruders. 
 At first .he warns them off. He has no pleasant 
 recollections of former visitors from upper air, who, 
 without the proper qualification of being previously 
 dead and duly burnt or buried, had made their way 
 against all rule into this abode of shadows. Hercules 
 had come there, and carried off their watchful guardian 
 Cerberus : Theseus and his friend Pirithous had even 
 tried to do the same by Proserpine. 
 
 u My laws forbid me to convey 
 Substantial forms of breathing clay. 
 
 ’Twas no good hour that made me take 
 Alcides o’er the nether lake, 
 
 Nor found I more auspicious freight 
 In Theseus and his daring mate; 
 
 Yet all were Heaven’s undoubted heirs, 
 
 And prowess more than man’s was theirs. 
 
 That from our monarch’s footstool dragged 
 The infernal watch-dog, bound and gagged; 
 
 These strove to force from Pluto’s side 
 Our mistress, his imperial bride.” 
 
 The Sibyl bids Charon have no fears of this kind now— 
 Cerberus and Proserpine are safe from all designs on 
 the part of her companion. This is iEneas of Troy, 
 known for his “ piety ” as widely as for his deeds of 
 arms. He does but seek an interview with his sire 
 Anchises. But, if Charon be deaf to all such argu- 
 a. o. voL v. - h 
 
114 
 
 TIIE jENEID. 
 
 ments,—she shows the golden hough. The passport is 
 irresistible. Sullenly, and without a word of reply, 
 the dark boatman brings his craft to shore, and bids 
 the freight of ghosts clear the decks and make room 
 for his living passengers. The boat groans, its seams 
 open and let in the water, as the substantial flesh and 
 blood steps on board.* So, in the Iliad of Homer, 
 
 * The rickety state of Charon’s boat was always a fertile 
 source of wit to the freethinkers among the classical satirists. 
 Lucian, in one- of his very amusing dialogues, makes Charon 
 complain of his passengers bringing luggage with them : “ My 
 boat is something rotten, look you, and lets in a good deal of 
 water at the seams ; if you come on board with all that luggage 
 you may repent it—especially those of you who can’t swim.”— 
 (Dial. Mort., x.) So in another dialogue Menippus thinks it 
 hard to be asked to pay for his passage over, when “ he helped 
 to bale the boat all the way.” It may be observed that the 
 boat is said to be made of hide, stretched on a wooden frame, 
 like the “ coracles” of the Britons, still in use on some of the 
 Welsh rivers. There may be some connection with an ancient 
 tradition which would identify the “white rock* ot which 
 Homer speaks (Od., xxiv. 11) as marking the entrance to the 
 regions of the dead with the cliffs of our own island—“ Albion.” 
 A curious old legend of the coast of France gives some colour to 
 the interpretation.. There was a tribe of fishermen who were 
 exempted from payment of tribute, on the ground that they 
 ferried over into Britain the souls of the departed. At night¬ 
 fall, when they were asleep (so the legend ran), they would be 
 awakened by a loud knocking at their doors, and voices calling 
 them, and feel a strange compulsion to go down to the sea¬ 
 shore. There they found boats, not their own, ready launched, 
 and to all appearance empty. When they stepped on board and 
 began to ply their oars they found the boats move as though 
 they were heavily laden, sinking within a finger’s breadth of 
 the water’s edge ; but they saw no man. Within an hour, as 
 
THE SIBYL AND THE SHADES. 
 
 115 
 
 ihe mortal horses and earthly chariot of Diomed groan 
 and strain under their immortal burden, when Minerva 
 takes her seat beside the champion. 
 
 Cerberus, in spite of Hercules, is at home again, 
 and on the watch. His three heads and snake- 
 wreathed neck are lifted in fury at the sight of 
 strangers, and his bark rings through the shades. 
 But the Sibyl has brought with her a medicated cake, 
 which she throws down to him; he eats, and falls at 
 once into a heavy sleep. 
 
 Then, led by the Sibyl, the Trojan chief passes 
 through the various regions of the world below. 
 Hirst they hear the cries of those infants who but just 
 knew life in the world above, and then were snatched 
 away from its enjoyment.* Next them come those 
 who have been condemned to death by an unjust 
 judgment, and for whom Minos here sits as judge of 
 appeals. In the next region are those unhappy ones— 
 
 it seemed, they reached the opposite coast—a voyage which in 
 their own boats they hardly made in a whole day and night. 
 When they touched the shore of Britain still they saw no 
 shape, hut they heard voices welcoming their ghostly passen¬ 
 gers, and calling each of the dead by name and rank. Then 
 having got rid, as it seemed, of their invisible freight, they put 
 off again for home, feeling their boats so sensibly lightened 
 that hardly more than the keel touched the water.—See Gesner’s 
 Notes on Claudian, iii. 123 ; Procopius, De Bell. Gotli., iv. 20. 
 
 * We have here the foundation of the fanciful doctrine of a 
 Limbo Infantum, held by some doctors of the Romish Church— 
 a kind of vestibule to the greater Purgatory, in which were 
 placed the souls of such children as died before they were old 
 enough to be admitted to the sacraments. 
 
116 
 
 THE jENEID. 
 
 “ Who all for loathing of the clay 
 In madness threw their lives away: 
 
 How gladly now in upper air 
 Contempt and beggary would they bear, 
 
 And labour’s sorest pain! 
 
 Fate bars the way: around their keep 
 The slow unlovely waters creep, 
 
 And bind with three-fold chain.” 
 
 Suicide was no crime in the early pagan creed ; but 
 Virgil has to a certain degree adopted the Platonic 
 notion, that to take away one’s own life was to desert 
 the post of duty. It is remarkable how thorougldy he 
 adopts Homer’s view of the incomparable superiority 
 of the life of the upper world to the best possible 
 estate in the land of shadows. We have here again the 
 sad lament of Achilles in the Iliad—that the life of a 
 slave on earth was more to be desired than the colour¬ 
 less existence of the heroes in Elysium. 
 
 Passing from these outer circles, the travellers reach 
 the “ Mourning Fields,” in which the poet places all 
 the victims of love. If there was any doubt as to his 
 view of the passion—that it was a lower appetite, ex¬ 
 cusable enough in man, but in a woman either to be 
 reprobated or pitied according to circumstances—it 
 would be set at rest by the characters of those victims 
 -with whom he peoples this unlovely region. Grouped 
 together with such devoted wives as Evadne, who, 
 when her husband fell iu the Trojan war, slew herself 
 for grief upon his funeral pile, and Laodamia, whose 
 only crime was that by her too urgent prayers she won 
 back her dead Protesilaus to her embrace for a few 
 
THE SIBYL AND THE SHADES. 
 
 117 
 
 fleeting moments, and died of joy in his arms,* we find 
 the treacherous Eriphyle, who, for the bribe of a golden 
 necklace, persuaded her husband Amphiarus to go to 
 his predestined death in the same war, and even such 
 disgraces to their sex as were Phaedra and Pasiphae. 
 In these Mourning Fields AEneas meets one whom 
 he would, it may be conceived, have very gladly 
 avoided. Half veiled in mist, seen dimly like the 
 moon through a cloud, Dido stands before him there : 
 and thus, for the first time, he is made certain or 
 her death. AEneas is ready with regrets, and even 
 tears. 
 
 i 
 
 “ She on the ground averted kept 
 Hard eyes that neither smiled nor wept; 
 
 Nor bated more of her stern mood, 
 
 Than if a monument she stood.” 
 
 At last, without a word, she turns from her false lover, 
 and seeks in the dim groves the society of her dead 
 husband Sichseus. 
 
 * “ Aloud she shrieked! for Hermes reappears; 
 
 Round the dear shade she would have clung—’tis vain. 
 
 The hours are past—too brief, had they been years ; 
 
 And him no mortal effort can detain: 
 
 Swift, toward the realms that know not earthly day, 
 
 He through the portal takes his silent way, 
 
 An d on the palace-floor a lifeless corse she lay. 
 
 u By no weak pity might the gods be moved ; 
 
 She who thus perished, not without the crime 
 Of lovers that in Reason’s spite have loved, 
 
 Was doomed to wear out her appointed time. 
 
 Apart from happy ghosts that gather flowers 
 Of blissful quiet ’mid unfading bowers.” 
 
 —Wordsworth’s * Laodamisu 
 
118 
 
 THE JENEID. 
 
 » The Sibyl leads her companion on to the Field of 
 the Heroes. There he sees the mighty men of old: 
 the chiefs who fought against Thebes in the great siege 
 which preceded that of Troy—Tydeus, and Adrastus, 
 and Parthenopoeus. There, too, are the shades of his 
 own companions in arms, who fell in defence of their 
 city. Among these last is one who has another tale 
 to tell of the abominable Helen. It is Deiphobus, 
 one of the many sons of Priam, to whom Helen had 
 been given after the death of Paris. HEneas is shocked 
 to see the unsubstantial shape of the prince bearing 
 the marks of barbarous mutilation; his hands lopped, 
 his face gashed, and his ears and nostrils cut off. 
 (For, even in this shadowy existence, the ghosts 
 all bear the marks of violent death — Dido’s self- 
 inflicted wound being specially mentioned.) HEneas 
 asks the history of this terrible disfigurement, and 
 Deiphobus tells it at some length: how the double 
 traitoress, who was then his wife, had led Menelaus 
 and his companion, the accursed Ulysses, to the cham¬ 
 ber where he lay sunk in sleep on the disastrous night 
 of the city’s capture, and how they two had thus 
 mangled his body. 
 
 But the Sibyl warns her companion, who stands 
 absorbed in grief at his comrade’s fate, that the per¬ 
 mitted hours of their visit are fast passing away. She 
 guides him on to where the path they are treading 
 divides, leading in one direction to the Elvsian 
 Fields, in the other to Tartarus,—for the district which 
 they have explored already is represented as of an 
 entirely neutral character. On the left, AEneas sees 
 
THE SIBYL AND THE SHADES. 
 
 119 
 
 rise before him the broad bastions of Tartarus, round 
 which flows the fiery stream of Phlegethon ?— 
 
 ** In front a portal stands displayed, 
 
 On adamantine columns stayed; 
 
 Nor mortal nor immortal foe 
 Those massy gates could overthrow. 
 
 An iron tower of equal might 
 In air uprises steep ; 
 
 Tisiphonk, in red robes diglit, 
 
 Sits on the threshold day and night, 
 
 With eyes that know not sleep. 
 
 Hark! from within there issue groans, 
 
 The cracking of the thong, 
 
 The clank of iron o’er the stones 
 Dragged heavily along.” 
 
 .Eneas asks of his companion the meaning of these 
 fearful sounds. They are the outcries of the wicked 
 in torment. They may not be seen by human eyes ; 
 but Deipliobe herself has been shown all the horrible 
 secrets of their prison-house by Hecate, when intrusted 
 by that goddess with the charge of the entrance to the 
 Shades. She tells Eneas how Ehadamanthus sits in 
 judgment there, and forces the wicked to confess, their 
 deeds. Crimes successfully concealed on earth are 
 there made manifest; then the culprit is handed over 
 to the Furies for punishment. Such punishments are 
 various as the crimes ; strange and horrible in the 
 cases of extraordinary offenders,—especially against the 
 majesty of the gods. In the lowest gulf of all,— 
 
 “ Where Tartarus, with sheer descent, 
 
 Dips ’neath the ghost-world twice as deep 
 
120 
 
 TEE JENEIE. 
 
 As towers above earth’s continent 
 
 The height of heaven’s Olympian steep,”— 
 
 lie the twin giants, sons of Aloeus, who sought to 
 storm heaven, and hurl Jupiter from his throne. 
 There, too, is chained Salmoneus, who, counterfeiting 
 the thunder and lightning of the Olympian ruler, was 
 struck down by the force which he profanely imitated. 
 Tityos, son of Earth, who dared to offer violence to 
 the goddess Latona, lies there also, suffering the pun¬ 
 ishment assigned by the Greek mythologists to Pro¬ 
 metheus :— 
 
 “ O’er acres nine from end to end 
 His vast unmeasured limbs extend; 
 
 A vulture on his liver preys : 
 
 The liver fails not, nor decays : 
 
 Still o’er that flesh which breeds new pangs, 
 With crooked beak the torturer hangs, 
 
 Explores its depth with bloody fangs, 
 
 And searches for her food; 
 
 Still haunts the cavern of his breast, 
 
 Nor lets the filaments have rest, 
 
 To endless pain renewed.” 
 
 Virgil is here more literally orthodox, and less 
 philosophical in his creed, than his master Lucretius. 
 Eor he, too, knew the story of Tityos, but saw in it only 
 an allegory ; “every man is a Tityos,” says the elder 
 poet, “ whose heart is torn and racked perpetually by 
 his own evil lusts and passions.” Other and various 
 torments has the Sibyl seen; for the selfish and 
 covetous, for the adulterer, for the betrayer of trust, 
 and the spoiler of the orphan ; the feast ever spread 
 
THE SIBYL AND THE SHADES. 
 
 12 i 
 
 before the hungry eyes and ever vanishing; the rock 
 overhanging the head of the guilty, ever ready to fall ; 
 the stone that has to be rolled with vast labour up 
 the hill, only to roll back again for ever; and, most 
 remarkable of all punishments, the doom of the rest¬ 
 less adventurer Theseus for his attempt on Proserpine 
 —to sit for ever in perpetual inactivity. And amidst 
 them all rings out the warning voice of Phlegyas (con¬ 
 demned for having set fire to the temple of Apollo) 
 from his place of torment:— 
 
 “ Be warned—learn righteousness—and reverence heaven.” 
 
 Here again we have, it may be, a protest against 
 the teaching of Lucretius : a distinct rejection, on 
 Virgil's part, of the materialistic doctrine which 
 would deny a divine Providence and human respon¬ 
 sibility. 
 
 The whole conception of Virgil’s hell is grand and 
 terrific. Highly material and sensational, it is hardly 
 more so than mediaeval divines and artists have repre¬ 
 sented ; and indeed it is more than probable that, 
 consciously or unconsciously, they often adopted 
 pagan notions on the subject. In its moral teaching, 
 whether the poet intended his descriptions to be taken 
 in their literal sense or interpreted in the way of 
 parable, his creed has at least the essential elements of 
 truth. 
 
 But now the visitors turn their steps towards the 
 Elysian fields, and after duly hanging up the golden 
 bough at the gate for Proserpine’s acceptance, they 
 enter those abodes of the blest:— 
 
122 
 
 THE jENEID. 
 
 “ Green spa jes, folded in with trees, 
 
 A paradise of pleasannces; 
 
 Around the champaign mantles bright 
 The fulness of purpureal light; 
 
 Another sun and stars they know, 
 
 That shine like ours, but shine below.” 
 
 There are assembled the illustrious dead—warriors who 
 have died for their country; priests of unstained life; 
 bards who have never perverted their powers; all 
 ■who have been benefactors of mankind,— 
 
 “ A goodly brotherhood, bedight 
 With coronals of virgin white.” 
 
 Shadows as they are, all the items of their happiness 
 are material. The games of the palaestra, the song of 
 the bard, the care of ghostly horses and ghostly 
 chariots, form the interests of this world of spirits ; 
 —the interests of earth, without earth’s substantial 
 realities. The poet found his imagination fail him, as 
 it,fails us all, when he tries to paint the details of an 
 incorporeal existence. 
 
 Among these happy spirits the hero finds his father 
 Anchises. He recognises and addresses him. Anchi- 
 ses had expected the visit, and receives him with such 
 tears of joy as spirits may shed. But when Hhieas 
 strives to embrace him, the conditions of this spiritual 
 world forbid it:— 
 
 “ Thrice strove the son his sire to clasp; 
 
 Thrice the vain phantom mocked his grasp; 
 
 No vision of the drowsy night, 
 
 No airy current, half so light.” 
 
THE SIBYL AND THE SHADES. 
 
 123 
 
 The occupation of Ancliises in these regions is much 
 more philosophical than that which is assigned to the 
 other shades. He is contemplating the unborn rulers 
 of the Rome that is to be; the spirits, as yet incor¬ 
 poreal, which are soon to receive a new body, and so 
 go forth into upper air. Deep in a forest lies the 
 river Lethe, and a countless multitude of forms are 
 seen thronging its banks, to drink of the water of for¬ 
 getfulness. Oblivious of all their past lives, they will 
 thus take their place once more, in changed bodies, 
 among the inhabitants of earth. The poet’s adapta¬ 
 tion of the Pythagorean doctrine of transmigration is 
 none of the clearest; but he signifies that, after the 
 lapse of a thousand years in a kind of Purgatory 
 below, these spirits are again summoned to play their 
 part, in new bodies, upon earth. Ancliises can read 
 their destinies ; and lie points out to his son the 
 shadowy forms, like the kings in ‘ Macbeth/ that are 
 to be the kings and consuls of the great Roman 
 nation. First, those who shall reign in Alba—Sil- 
 vius, that shall be born to iEneas in his new home, 
 Capys, and Numitor; young Romulus, son of the 
 war-god (he wears already the two-crested helmet in 
 right of his birth), who shall transplant the sceptre to 
 the seven-hilled city, and the kings that shall succeed 
 him there. He shows him, too, those who shall 
 make the future great names of the Republic—Brutus, 
 the Decii, Camillus, Fabius, and the Scipios. But 
 the centre of the picture is reserved for one great 
 bouse:— 
 
124 
 
 THE JEN El D. 
 
 11 Turn hither now your ranging eye; 
 
 Behold a glorious family, 
 
 Your sons and sons of Rome : 
 
 Lo ! Caesar there and all his seed, 
 lulus’ progeny, decreed 
 To pass ’neath heaven’s high dome. 
 
 This, this is he, so oft the theme 
 Of your prophetic fancy’s dream, 
 
 Augustus Ceesar, god by birth; 
 
 Restorer of the age of gold 
 In lands where Saturn ruled of old : 
 
 O’er Inil and Garamant extreme 
 Shall stretch his reign, that spans the earth. 
 
 Look to that land which lies afar 
 Beyond the path of sun or star, 
 
 Where Atlas on his shoulder rears 
 The burden of the incumbent spheres. 
 
 Egypt e’en now and Caspia hear 
 The muttered voice of many a seer, 
 
 And Nile’s seven mouths, disturbed with fear, 
 Their coming conqueror know.” 
 
 The future glories of Rome are described in a grand 
 and well known passage, to the majestic rhythm of 
 which no English translator seems able to do full 
 justice. The poet contrasts the warlike genius of his 
 countrymen with the softer accomplishments of their 
 rivals :— 
 
 “ Others with softer hand may mould the brass, 
 
 Or wake to warmer life the marble mass ; 
 
 Plead at the bar with more prevailing force, 
 
 Or trace more justly heaven’s revolving course : 
 Roman ! be thine the sovereign arts of sway 
 To rule, and make the subject world obey; 
 
TEE SIBYL AND TEE SHADES. 
 
 12D 
 
 Give peace its laws; respect the prostrate foe; 
 
 Abase the lofty, and exalt the low.” 
 
 —Symmons.* 
 
 One personal sketch the poet’s art had reserved to 
 the last. Anchises points out to his visitor the shade 
 that is to be the great Marcus Mareellus, five times 
 consul—the “ Sword of Rome,” as Fabius was said to 
 be its Shield, in the long wars with Carthage, and the 
 conqueror of Syracuse. By his side moves the figure 
 of an armed youth, tall and beautiful, but whose face 
 is sad, and his eyes fixed on the ground. The com¬ 
 pany of shadows crowd round him, murmuring their 
 admiration. Who is it 1 iEneas asks. It is the 
 young Mareellus of the Empire, the hope and promise 
 of Rome—the son of Octavia, sister of Augustus, and 
 destined, as many thought, to be his successor. Un¬ 
 willingly Anchises replies to his son’s question :— 
 
 “ Ah son ! compel ine not to speak 
 The sorrows of our race ! 
 
 That youth the Fates but just display 
 To earth, nor let him longer stay : 
 
 * But none of the recognised translations seem to come so 
 near the spirit of the original as Lord Macaulay’s paraphrase—• 
 for of course it is only a paraphrase—in his lay of “ The Pro* 
 phecy of Capys: ”— 
 
 “ Leave to the sons of Carthage 
 The rudder and the oar ; 
 
 Leave to the Greek his marble nymphs 
 And scrolls of wordy lore : 
 
 Thine, Roman, is the pilum ; 
 
 Roman, the sword is thine; 
 
 The even trench, the bristling mound, 
 
 The legion’s ordered line.” 
 
12G 
 
 THE sENEfD. 
 
 With gifts like tliese for aye to hold, 
 
 Rome’s heart had e’en been overbold. 
 
 Ah ! what a groan from Mars’s plain 
 Shall o’er the city sound ! 
 
 How wilt thou gaze on that long train. 
 
 Old Tiber, rolling to the main 
 Beside his new-raised mound ! 
 
 No youth of Ilium’s seed inspires 
 With hope as fair his Latian sires: 
 
 Nor Rome shall dandle on her knee 
 A nursling so adored as he. 
 
 0 piety ! O ancient faith ! 
 
 0 hand untamed in battle scathe ! 
 
 No foe had lived before his sword, 
 
 Stemmed he on foot the war’s red tide 
 Or with relentless rowel gored 
 His foaming charger’s side. 
 
 Dear child of pity ! shouldst thou burst 
 The dungeon-bars of Fate accurst, 
 
 Our own Marcellus thou ! 
 
 Bring lilies here, in handfuls bring : 
 
 Their lustrous blooms I fain would fling 
 Such honour to a grandson’s shade 
 By grandsire hands may well be paid : 
 
 Yet 0 ! it ’vails not now ! ” 
 
 He had died not long before, in his twentieth year, 
 intensely lamented both by his family and the people. 
 
 The recital of the passage by the poet before his 
 imperial audience had a more striking effect than even 
 he himself could have expected. Octavia swooned 
 away, and had to be removed by her attendants,— 
 sending, however, magnificent presents afterwards to 
 the poet for his eulogy on her dead son.* 
 
 * Yirgil is said to have received from her what would amount, 
 
THE SIBYL AND THE SHADES. 
 
 127 
 
 The biographers add, that Augustus commanded 
 Virgil to read no further on that day, and that the 
 poet replied he had already ended the subject. He has 
 not much more to say in this Sixth Book. Anchises 
 gives his son some prophetic intimations as to his 
 future fortunes in Italy, and then escorts his visitors 
 to the gates of Sleep. 
 
 “ Sleep gives his name to portals twain : 
 
 One all of horn, they say, 
 
 Through which authentic spectres gain 
 Quick exit into day, 
 
 And one which bright with ivory gleams, 
 
 Whence Pluto sends delusive dreams. 
 
 Conversing still, the sire attends 
 The travellers on their road, 
 
 And through the ivory portal sends 
 From forth the unseen abode.” 
 
 The lines have been taken to mean that this visit to 
 the shades was, after all, but a dream. 
 
 in our money, to above £2000—“a round sum,” remarks 
 Dry den, with something like professional envy, “ for twenty- 
 seven verses.” 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE TROJANS LAND IN LATIUM. 
 
 It has been said that this poem combines in some de¬ 
 gree the characters both of the Iliad and of the Odyssey. 
 Up to this point we have had the wanderings and 
 adventures of the Trojan hero: he has been the 
 Ulysses of his own tale. Henceforth we have a tale 
 of the camp and the battle-field, of siege and defence, 
 and personal combat; and we are reminded, in almost 
 every passage, of the stirring scenes of the Iliad. 
 
 ./Eneas, on his ascent into upper air^rejoins his crew, 
 and the fleet, setting sail from Cumae, enters the noble 
 harbour of Caieta. Hot that the place had any such 
 name as yet; but there the hero buries his old nurse, 
 and gives her name to the spot. Once more embark¬ 
 ing, they pass the promontory of Circe, and hear, as 
 they sail by, the roars and yells of the unhappy prisoners, 
 changed by the spells of the sorceress into the shape 
 of brutes, whom she holds in bondage there. They 
 listen and shudder, and bless the favouring gale which 
 bears them away from such perilous neighbourhood. 
 Then, with the morrow’s dawn, the fleet enters the 
 
THE TROJANS LAND IN LATIUM. 129 
 
 The picture of the galleys going 
 
 up the stream is very beautiful:— 
 
 “ The sea was reddening with the dawn : 
 
 The queen of morn on high 
 Was seen in rosy chariot drawn 
 Against a saffron sky, 
 
 When on the bosom of the deep 
 The Zephyrs dropped at once to sleep, 
 
 And, struck with calm, the tired oars strain 
 Against the smooth unmoving main. 
 
 Now from the deep iEneas sees 
 A mighty grove of glancing trees. 
 Embowered amid the silvan scene 
 Old Tiber winds his banks between, 
 
 And in the lap of ocean pours 
 His gulfy stream, his sandy stores. 
 
 Around, gay birds of diverse wing, 
 Accustomed there to fly or sing, 
 
 Were fluttering on from spray to spray 
 And soothing ether with their lay. 
 
 He bids his comrades turn aside 
 And landward set each vessel’s head, 
 
 And enters in triumphant pride 
 
 The river’s shadowy bed.” 
 
 War is now the subject, and Homer is the model. Yet 
 the Roman poet never shows his individual genius 
 more strongly than in his treatment of the external 
 ^scenery amidst which his action lies. He is still the 
 j wor shipper of Nature, even while he sets himself to 
 .sing of battles, as he was in his Pastorals and Georgies. 
 Homer tells us of the rivers of the Troad, Simois and 
 Scamander—but it is only as they affect Hector or 
 Achilles; his heart is all the while with the combat- 
 a. c. vol. v. i 
 
130 
 
 THE jENEID. 
 
 ante, not with the flowing river. Not so Yirgil: with 
 him wo feel the cool breeze, we see the glancing 
 shadow of the trees upon the river, we hea r the 
 flatter of the startled birds, and the long plash of the 
 oars in the water: we sail with EEneas on a party of 
 pleasure, rather than a voyage of conquest. 
 
 Latium is reached at last. They moor their galleys 
 under the trees which fringe the river - banks, and 
 land to make their morning meal. It is but a scant 
 one. Such wild fruits as they can collect are laid 
 upon the wheaten cakes which they have brought 
 with them, and when the fruit is finished they attack 
 the cakes themselves. “ Lo! ” exclaims lulus—“ we 
 are eating our tables!” Joyfully JEneas recognises, 
 in the boy’s involuntary interpretation, the fulfilment 
 of the curse of the Harpies,* * and of certain strange 
 words of his father Anchises, that when they were 
 reduced to “ eat their tables,” then they had found 
 their destined home, and might begin to build their 
 city. This, then, is their promised rest. He pours 
 libations and offers prayers to the gods of the land, 
 and peals of thunder from a cloudless sky seem to 
 announce that the invocation is accepted. 
 
 As soon as the moon rises, scouts are sent out to 
 explore the country. The k ing of the land-is—old 
 Latinus, whose palace is near at hand. He has one 
 
 only daughter, Lavinia. for whose hand all the neigh- 
 Touring princes have long been suitors. Turnus of 
 Ardea, the gallant chief of the Rutuli, tallest and 
 handsomest of all the rivals, has the goodwill of the 
 
 * See p. 66. 
 
THE TROJANS LAND IN LATIUM. 
 
 131 
 
 queen-mother; the maiden’s own choice in such a 
 matter being the last consideration which would enter 
 into the thought of a Roman poet. When the Trojan 
 chief has thus informed himself in some measure as 
 to the localities, he sends a formal embassy to King 
 Latinus’s court, carrying presents in token of goodwill. 
 Meanwhile he busies himself in hurriedly marking out 
 the boundaries of his new town, and fencing it round 
 witli an earthen rampart and a palisade. 
 
 The strangers are ushered into the presence of 
 Latinus, where he sits in his ancestral palace, sur¬ 
 rounded by the cedar statues of the demi-gods and 
 heroes of his line. 
 
 “ There too were spoils of bygone wars 
 Hung on the portals,—captive cars, 
 
 Strong city-gates with massive bars, 
 
 And battle-axes keen, 
 
 And plumy cones from helmets shorn, 
 
 And beaks from vanquished vessels torn, 
 
 And darts, and bucklers sheen.” 
 
 He knows at once who his visitors are. Strange por- 
 tents had long disturbed his court, and had warned 
 him that his daughter must wed with no prince of ' 
 
 Latian race: that a foreign host and a stranger bride¬ 
 groom will come to claim her, and that the kings who 
 shall spring from this union will spread the Rati an 
 name from s?a to sea. He inquires the strangers' 
 errand courteously, and the Trojan Ilioneus, as spokes 
 man of the embassy, thus makes reply :— 
 
 “We come not to your friendly coast 
 By random gale o’er ocean tost, 
 
132 
 
 THE jENEID. 
 
 Nor land nor star has made us stray 
 
 From our determined line of way: 
 
 Of steady purpose one and all 
 
 We flock beneath your city wall, 
 
 Driven from an empire, greater none 
 
 Within the circuit of the sun. 
 
 Jove is our sire : to Jove’s high race 
 
 We, Dardans born, our lineage trace: 
 
 Jove’s seed, the monarch we obey, 
 
 iEneas, sends us here to-day. 
 
 How fierce a storm from Argos sent 
 
 On Ida’s plains its fury spent, 
 
 How Fate in dire collision hurled 
 
 The eastern and the western world, 
 
 E’en he has heard, whom earth’s last verge 
 
 J ust separates from the circling surge, 
 
 And he who, to his kind unknown, 
 
 Dwells midmost ’neath the torrid zone. 
 
 Swept by that deluge o’er the foam 
 
 For our lorn gods we ask a home : 
 
 A belt of sand is all we crave, 
 
 And man’s free birthright, air and wave. 
 
 We shall not shame your Latin crown, 
 
 Nor light shall be your own renown, 
 
 Nor time obliterate the debt, 
 
 Nor Italy the hour regret 
 
 When Troy with outstretched arms she met 
 
 I swear it bv ^Eneas’ fate, 
 
 «/ ' 
 
 By that right hand which makes him great. 
 In peace and war approved alike 
 A friend to aid, a foe to strike, 
 
 Full oft have mighty nations—nay, 
 
 Disdain not that unsought we pray, 
 
 Nor deem that wreaths and lowly speech 
 The grandeur of our name impeach— 
 
 Full oft with zeal and earnest prayers 
 Have nations wooed us to be theirs; 
 
THE TROJANS LAND IN LATIUM. 
 
 133 
 
 But Hea ven’s high fate, with stern command, 
 Impelled us still to this your land. 
 
 Here Dardanus was born, and here 
 Apollo bids our race return : 
 
 To Tyrrhene Tiber points the seer 
 And pure Numicius’ hallowed urn. 
 
 These presents too our hands convey, 
 
 Scant relics of a happier day, 
 
 From burning Ilium snatched away. 
 
 From this bright gold before the shrine 
 His sire Anchises poured the wine : 
 
 With these adornments Priam sate 
 ’Mid gathering crowds in kingly state, 
 
 The sceptre and the diadem : 
 
 Troy’s women wrought the vesture’s hem.” 
 
 The king muses thoughtfully for a while: but ho 
 recognises the fulfilment of the auguries. Let iEneas 
 come—he is welcome. If this be the bridegroom senFBy 
 heaven, he shall be more welcome still. He sends back 
 the ambassadors in right royal fashion, all mounted on 
 choice horses from his own stud, and with a chariot of 
 honour to convey their chief to an interview. 
 
 Juno’s relentless hatred is stirred once more. Will 
 neither fire nor sword kill, nor water drown, these 
 accursed Trojans? Shall she, the Queen of Heaven, 
 be baffled by a mortal like iEneas? If it he written 
 in the fates that he is to wed Lavinia, her- marriage- 
 dower shall be paid in Trojan and Latian blood. 
 Venus shall find that she, like Hecuba, has borne a 
 firebrand—that iEneas, like Paris, shall light a flame 
 that shall consume his nation. If the powers of 
 heaven will not take her part, she will seek aid from 
 
134 
 
 TEE jENEID. 
 
 hell. She summons the Fury Alecto from the shades 
 below, and bids her sow strife between the people of 
 Latinus and their foreign visitors. 
 
 The Fury, rejoicing in her errand, seeks the cham¬ 
 ber of Latinus’s queen, and darts into her breast one of 
 the living serpents that serve her for coils of hair. 
 Straightway the queen is seized with madness, and, 
 after vainly trying to rouse her husband to oppose 
 this foreign marriage, she rushes like a Bacchanal 
 through the neighbouring villages, and calls upon the 
 mothers of Latium to avenge her wrongs and rescue 
 her daughter. 
 
 Next the Fury instils the same venom into the 
 heart of Turnus . where he lies in his town of Ardea. 
 He has been the champion of Latium against their 
 enemies the Tuscans, and this is their gratitude—to 
 give his promised bride to another ! The young chief 
 leaps from his couch, calls madly for his arms, and 
 orders an instant march upon Latinus’s capital. He 
 will expel these intruders at once, and demand the 
 princess from her father by force of arms. 
 
 Meanwhile—still at the instigation of Alecto—the 
 seeds of quarrel have been sown between the men of 
 Latium and their Trojan guests. There is a tame deer 
 which has been nursed in the house of Tyrrheus, the 
 ranger of the royal forest,—a pet and favourite with 
 all the country-folk. 
 
 “ Fair Sylvia, daughter of the race, 
 
 Its horns with leaves would interlace, 
 
 Comb smooth its shaggy coat, and lave 
 Its body in the crystal wave. 
 
THE TROJANS LAND IN LAT1UM. 
 
 135 
 
 Tame and obedient, it would stray 
 Free through the woods a summer’s day, 
 
 And home again at night repair, 
 
 E’en of itself, how late soe’er.” 
 
 In evil hour Ascanius, riding out with a hunting- 
 party, gets his hounds upon the scent, and shoots the 
 poor animal as it floats quietly down the river in the 
 noon-day heat. It has just strength to carry the 
 Trojan arrow in its body to its mistress’s door, and die 
 moaning at her feet.* Tyrrheus and his household 
 are mad with rage, and rouse the whole country-side 
 against this wanton outrage, as they hold it, on the 
 part of the strangers. The shepherd’s horn sounds 
 out its summons to the whole neighbourhood; and 
 the angry rustics, when they hear the story, seize 
 axes, staves, and such rude weapons as come first to 
 hand, and attack the young prince and his hunting- 
 party. The Trojans come out from their intrenchment 
 to rescue their friends, and the fray now becomes a 
 regular battle, no longer fought with stakes and hunting 
 implements, but with sword and spear. Blood is soon 
 shed; the rustic weapons are no match for the Trojan 
 steel; and young Almo, the ranger’s son, is carried 
 home dead, amongst others. Almost a sadder loss is 
 
 * Andrew Marvell most likely borrowed his thought from the 
 Koman poet in his graceful lines, “ The Nymph’s Complaint— 
 
 “ The wanton troopers, riding by, 
 
 Have shot my fawn, and it will die. 
 
 Ungentle men ! they cannot thrive 
 Who killed thee. Thou ne’er didst aliva 
 Them any harm, alas ! nor could 
 Thy death yet do them any good.” 
 
136 
 
 THE jENEID. 
 
 that of the good old yeoman Galsesus, who yokes a 
 hundred ploughs, and whose character gives him even 
 more influence than his wealth. He is slain as he 
 stands between the combatants, vainly pleading for 
 peace. 
 
 The bodies are carried through the city streets, as 
 in a modern revolution, by way of demonstration. 
 There they make their dumb appeal to the passions of 
 the people— 
 
 “ Young Almo in his comely grace, 
 
 And old Gakesus’ mangled face ”— 
 
 and the appeal is answered by a universal cry for 
 “ War! ” 
 
 < 
 
CHAPTER YIIL 
 
 THE MUSTER OP THE LATIN TRIBES. 
 
 / 
 
 Turnus arrives amongst them from Ardea at this critical 
 moment, and shouts fiercely for instant battle. In 
 vain does King Latinus quote the oracle, and refuse 
 to fight against the destinies. He will be no par ty to 
 a bloody and useless war. But the impetuosit y of an 
 angry populace is too strong for him. Powerless to 
 stem the popular current, he nevertheless delivers his 
 own soul, and abdicates his sovereignty. The guilt of 
 the blood that shall be shed must rest on those who 
 stir the war. He warns Turnus that he may yet live 
 to rue the part he has taken, when too late : for him¬ 
 self, death will soon put an end to all troubles. 
 
 By an old tradition,—handed on, as the poet will 
 have it, from these old days of Latium to the Pome of 
 Augustus,—the powers of War were held to be con* 
 fined within the gates of Janus, the porter of the Im¬ 
 mortals, only to be let loose by solemn act of state 
 authority. 
 
 “ Two gates there stand of War—’t was so 
 Our fathers named them long ago— 
 
138 
 
 TI1E jENEID. 
 
 The war-god’s terrors round them spread 
 An atmosphere of sacred dread. 
 
 A hundred bolts the entrance guard, 
 
 And Janus there keeps watch and ward. 
 
 These, when his peers on war decide, 
 
 The consul, all in antique pride 
 Of Gabine cincture deftly tied 
 And purple-striped attire, 
 
 With grating noise himself unbars, 
 
 And calls aloud on Father Mars : 
 
 The warrior train takes up the cry, 
 
 And horns with brazen symphony 
 Their hoarse assent conspire.” 
 
 Since Latinus will not do his office, Juno in person— 
 so the poet lias it—descends from heaven, smites upon 
 the barred portals, and “lets slip the dogs of war.” 
 
 “ Ausonia, all inert before, 
 
 Takes fire and blazes to the core : 
 
 And some on foot their march essay, 
 
 Some, mounted, storm along the way; 
 
 To arms ! cry one and all: 
 
 With unctuous lard their shields they clean, 
 
 And make their javelins bright and sheen, 
 
 Their axes on the whetstone grind; 
 
 Look how that banner takes the wind ! 
 
 Hark to yon trumpet’s call! 
 
 Five mighty towns, with anvils set, 
 
 In emulous haste their weapons whet: 
 
 Crustumium, Tibur the renowned, 
 
 And strong Atina there are found, 
 
 And Ardea, and Antemnce crowned 
 With turrets round her wall. 
 
 Steel caps they frame their brows to fit, 
 
 And osier twigs for bucklers knit: 
 
TEE MUSTER OF TEE LATIN TRIBES. 
 
 139 
 
 Or twist the hauberk’s brazen mail 
 And mould them greaves of silver pale : 
 
 To these has passed the homage paid 
 Erewhile to ploughshare, scythe, and spade: 
 
 Each brings his father’s battered blade, 
 
 And smelts in fire anew : 
 
 And now the clarions pierce the skies : 
 
 From rank to rank the watchword flies: 
 
 This tears his helmet from the wall, 
 
 That drags his war-horse from the stall, 
 
 Dons three-piled mail and ample shield, 
 
 And girds him for the embattled field 
 With falchion tried and true.” 
 
 The whole remaining portion of this seventh book 
 is in Virgil’s most spirited style. And it is here that 
 the harp of our northern minstrel answers best to Mr 
 Conington’s touch. The gathering of the clans—for 
 it is nothing else—the rapid sketches of the chiefs as 
 they pass in succession with their array of followers— 
 the details of costume—the legendary tale which the 
 poet has to tell of more than one of them as he passes 
 them in review—even the devices borne on the shields, 
 — -are all features in which Scott delighted as thorough¬ 
 ly as Virgil, and which his well-known rhythm suits 
 better than any other which a translator could 
 choose. Some few portions of this stirring war¬ 
 like diorama must content the readers of these 
 pages. The first who passes is the terrible chief of 
 Agylla, who fears neither god nor man, and whose 
 notorious cruelties have so exasperated his own people 
 against him that he is now a refugee in the court of 
 Tumus:— 
 
14C 
 
 THE jENEID. 
 
 “ Mezentius first from Tyrrhene coast, 
 
 Who mocks at heaven, arrays his host, 
 
 And braves the battle’s storm ; 
 
 His son, young Lausus, at his side, 
 
 Excelled by none in beauty’s pride, 
 
 Save Turnus’ comely form : 
 
 Lausus, the tamer of the steed, 
 
 The conqueror of the silvan breed, 
 
 Leads from Agylla’s towers in vain 
 A thousand youths, a valiant train: 
 
 Ah happy, had the son been blest 
 In hearkening to his sire’s behest, 
 
 Or had the sire from whom he came 
 Had other nature, other name ! ” 
 
 In the description of the next leader we have some 
 notice of early heraldry:— 
 
 “ Next drives along the grassy meads 
 His palm-crowned car and conquering steeds 
 Fair Aventinus, princely heir 
 Of Hercules the brave and fair, 
 
 And for his proud escutcheon takes 
 His father’s Hydra and her snakes. 
 
 ’Twas he that priestess Rhea bare, 
 
 A stealthy birth, to upper air, 
 
 ’Mid shades of woody Aventine 
 
 Mingling her own with heavenly blood, 
 
 When triumph-llushed from Geryon slain 
 Alcides touched the Latian plain, 
 
 And bathed Iberia’s distant kine 
 In Tuscan Tiber’s flood. 
 
 Long pikes and poles his bands uprear, 
 
 The shapely blade, the Sabine spear. 
 
 Himself on foot, with lion’s skin, 
 
THE MUSTER OF THE LATIN TRIBES. HI 
 
 Whose long white teeth with ghastly grin 
 Clasp like a helmet brow and chin, 
 
 Joins the proud chiefs in rude attire, 
 
 A.nd flaunts the emblem of his sire.” 
 
 Corae» and Catillus, twin-brothers from the old town 
 of Tibor; Cseculus, from the neighbouring Prseneste 
 —reputed son of Yulcan, because said to have been 
 found ns an infant lying amidst the forge embers— 
 whose following take the field with slings and jave¬ 
 lins, each man with his left foot bare to give him 
 firmer stepping-hold ; Clausus the Sabine, from whom 
 sprang the great house of the Claudii—some of whom 
 assuredly were listening to the poet’s recitation; 
 Halaesus, of the seed of Agamemnon, sworn foe to 
 all who bear the hated name of Trojan; and a host 
 of chiefs of lesser name and inferior powers, join 
 the march. Messapus, the “ horse - tamer,” brings 
 with him a powerful band of retainers from many 
 a city, who chant the deeds of their leaders as they 
 go— 
 
 “ Like snow-white swans in liquid air, 
 
 When homeward from their food they fare, 
 
 And far and wide melodious notes 
 Come rippling from their slender throats, 
 
 While the broad stream and Asia’s fen 
 Reverberate to the sound again. 
 
 Sure none had thought that countless crowd 
 A mail-clad company; 
 
 It rather seemed a dusky cloud 
 Of migrant fowl, that, hoarse and loud, 
 
 Press landward from the sea. 
 
142 
 
 THE JENEID. 
 
 “ Came too from old Marruvia’s realm, 
 
 An olive-garland round his helm, 
 
 Bold Umbro, priest at once and knight, 
 
 By king Archippus sent to fight: 
 
 Who baleful serpents knew to steep 
 By hand and voice in charmed sleep, 
 
 Soothed their fierce wrath with subtlest skill, 
 
 And from their bite drew off the ill. 
 
 But ah ! his medicines could not heal 
 The death-wound dealt by Dardan steel: 
 
 His slumberous charms availed him nought, 
 
 Nor herbs on Marsian mountains sought, 
 
 And cropped with magic shears : 
 
 For thee Anguitia’s woody cave, 
 
 For thee the glassy Fucine wave, 
 
 For thee the lake shed tears.” 
 
 Nearly last of the warlike array, who all acknowledge 
 him as their leader, comes the prince of the Rutuli. 
 iEneas’s rival and enemy :— 
 
 “ In foremost rank see Turnus move, 
 
 His comely head the rest above : 
 
 On his tall helm with triple cone 
 Cliimsera in relief is shown ; 
 
 The monster’s gaping jaws expire 
 Hot volumes of /Etnean fire : 
 
 And still she flames and raves the more 
 The deeper floats the field with gore. 
 
 With bristling hide and lifted horns, 
 
 Io, all gold, his shield adorns, 
 
 E’en as in life she stood ; 
 
 There too is Argus, warder stem, 
 
 And Inaclius from graven urn, 
 
 Her father, pours his flood.” 
 
 He brings with him the largest host of all—a cloud of 
 
THE MUSTER OF THE LATIN TRIBES. 143 
 
 well-armed footmen of various tribes, whose shields 
 seem to cover the plain. 
 
 This pretty picture of Camilla, the Yolscian hunt¬ 
 ress (whom Dry den very ungallantly terms a “ virago ”), 
 vowed from her childhood to Diana—the prototype of 
 Tasso’s Clorinda, but far more attractive—clot js at 
 once the warlike pageant and the book:— 
 
 “ Last marches forth for Latiurn’s sake 
 Camilla fair, the Yolscian maid, 
 
 A troop of horsemen in her wake 
 In pomp of gleaming steel arrayed ; 
 
 Stern warrior-queen ! those tender hands 
 Ne’er plied Minerva’s ministries : 
 
 A virgin in the fight she stands, 
 
 Or winged winds in speed outvies : 
 
 Nay, she could fly o’er fields of grain 
 Nor crush in flight the tapering wheat, 
 
 Or skim the surface of the main 
 Nor let the billows touch her feet. 
 
 Where’er she moves, from house and land 
 The youths and ancient matrons throng, 
 
 And fixed in greedy wonder stand, 
 
 Beholding as she speeds along : 
 
 In kingly dye that scarf was dipped : 
 
 ’Tis gold confines those tresses’ flow : 
 
 Her pastoral wand with steel is tipped, 
 
 And Lycian are her shafts and bow.” * 
 
 * No doubt the Camilla of the Roman poet is a reminiscence 
 of the Amazon Renthesilea in Homer, just as the fairy footstep, 
 that left no trace on sea or land, is borrowed from those won¬ 
 drous mares of Ericthonius to whom Homer assigns the same 
 performance. But the copy far surpasses the original in grace 
 and beauty. Our English poets have made free use of this fancy 
 of the footsteps of beauty' none more sweetly than Jonson 
 
144 
 
 THE JEN El D. 
 
 The story of Camilla’s infancy, which is given us 
 subsequently, is quite in accordance with this de¬ 
 scription. Her father, driven from his territory, like 
 Mezentius, by an angry people, had carried his infant 
 daughter with him in his flight. Hard pressed by his 
 pursuers, he came to the banks of a river. To swim 
 across the stream, though swollen by winter torrents, 
 were easy for himself: but how to carry his child 1 
 With brief prayer and vow to the huntress Diana, he 
 tied her to a spear, and threw her across. The child 
 alighted safely on the other side, and the father fol¬ 
 lowed. Fed on mares’ milk, and exercised from 
 infancy in the use of the bow, Camilla had grown 
 up in the forest, vowed to maidenhood and to Diana. 
 
 in his ‘ Sad Shepherd, wuere ZEglamour laments his lost 
 Earing:— 
 
 “ Here she was wont to go, and here, and here— 
 
 Just where those daisies, pinks, and violets grow; 
 
 The world may find the spring by following her. 
 
 For other print her airy steps ne’er left. 
 
 Her treading would not bend a blade of grass. 
 
 Or shake the downy blow-bell from his stalk : 
 
 But like the south-west wind she shot along, 
 
 And where she went the flowers took thickest root. 
 
 As she had sowed them with her odorous foot.” 
 
 —The ‘Sad Shepherd/ Act I. sc. 1. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 J5NEAS MAKES ALLIANCE WITH EVANDER. 
 
 The turn of events gives the Trojan chief much 
 natural disquiet. All Latium is in arms against his 
 little force of adventurers. He lies down within his 
 lines to a disturbed and anxious rest, where he has a 
 remarkable visio n. A figure rises, wrapped in a grey 
 mantle, with his brows crowned with reed. It is 
 ^Father Tiber,” the tutelary genius of the Rome that 
 shall he. He bids his visitor he of good cheer: his 
 coming has been long looked for. He renews, for his 
 encouragement, the old oracle of Anchises :— 
 
 “ On woody banks before your eye 
 A thirty-farrowed sow shall lie, 
 
 Her whole white length on earth stretched out, 
 
 Her young, as white, her teats about, 
 
 Sign that when thirty years come round 
 ‘ White Alba ’ shall Ascanius found.” 
 
 He will find allies, too, within reach. A_colojiy from 
 Arcadia have migrated to Italy under their king Evan- 
 der, and have founded in the neighbouring mountains 
 A. C. vol. V. K 
 
146 
 
 THE JLNE1D. 
 
 a city called Pallanteum. He will reach the place by 
 sailing up the stream, and from them, ever at- feud 
 with their Latian neighbours, he will get the aid he 
 requires. 
 
 zEneas wakes from sleep, arms the crews of two of 
 his galleys, and begins his voyage up the course of the 
 friendly Tiber, who purposely calms his waves and 
 moderates his current. The sow with her thirty 
 young is soon found, and duly sacrificed, as the river- 
 genius has warned him, to propitiate the wrath of 
 Juno. Evander, with his son Pallas and all his 
 people, is keeping high festival to Hercules, when the 
 masts of the Trojan galleys are suddenly seen among 
 the trees as they turn a bend of the river. The 
 strangers are hailed by Pallas ; and ASneas, bearing in 
 his band the olive-bough of a suppliant, is led by the 
 young chief before his father. In a well - studied 
 speech he claims kindred with the Arcadian hero, 
 albeit a Trojan and Greek might at first sight seem 
 natural enemies. Dardanus of Troy traced his descent 
 from Atlas — Evander’s genealogy goes back to the 
 same great ancestor. Their mutual enmity with the 
 Latians should be also a bond of union: and lo ! iEneas 
 has shown his goodwill and confidence in thus placing 
 himself fearlessly in Evander’s power. Evander is 
 the Hestor of the iEneid;—somewhat given to long 
 stories and reminiscences of his own youth. He had 
 known his present visitor’s father well, in the years 
 gone by, when the Trojan court had visited the 
 country of Priam’s sister Hesione. 
 
/ENEAS MAKES ALLIANCE WITH EVANDER. 147 
 
 “ A boy was I, a stripling lad, 
 
 My clieek with youth’s first blossom clad ; 
 
 I gazed at Priam and his train 
 Of Trojan lords, and gazed again : 
 
 But great Anchises, princely tall, 
 
 Was more than Priam, more than all. 
 
 With boyish zeal I schemed and planned 
 To greet the chief, and grasp his hand, 
 
 I ventured, and with eager zest 
 To Pheneus brought my honoured guest. 
 
 A Lycian quiver he bestowed 
 At parting, with its arrowy load, 
 
 A gold-wrought scarf, and bridle-reins 
 Of gold, which Pallas still retains.” 
 
 He tells his visitor also, at very considerable length, 
 the story of Hercules slaying the monster Cacus, son 
 of Vulcan, half man and half berfet, whose breath was as 
 flames of fire, and whose diet was human flesh—the 
 prototype of the giants of later fiction. He points out 
 also to his guest the local features of the country—for 
 they are standing on the site which is to be Rome, 
 and Pallanteum is to become the Palatine mount of 
 future history. Whatever of mythical legend the poet 
 mixed up in his topography, he knew the interest 
 with which his patrician audience—for antiquarian ism 
 was almost as fashionable in the court of the Caesars 
 as it is now—would listen while, by the mouth of 
 Evander, he • dwelt on the old historic localities of 
 the imperial city: the Carmental gate, named after the 
 nympli who was Evander’s mother; the grove where 
 Romulus in after-days made his first “ Asylum ” for 
 the motley band whom he gathered round him; the 
 
148 
 
 THE JZNEID. 
 
 » Tarpeian rock; the hill on which was to stand the 
 Capitol; the Janiculum, with its Saturnian walls, the 
 key of Rome’s defences. “ Now ”—says the poet, 
 
 speaking in his own person of the glories of the great 
 city in his own day,— 
 
 “ Now all is golden—then ’twas all 
 - O’ergrown with trees and brushwood talL 
 E’en their rude hinds the spot revered : 
 
 • • • • • • 
 
 Here in this grove, these wooded steeps, 
 
 Some god unknown his mansion keeps ; 
 
 Arcadia’s children deem 
 Their eyes have looked on Jove’s own form, 
 
 When oft he summons cloud and storm, 
 
 And seen his aegis gleam.” 
 
 A league is made between the Trojans and their new 
 friends. King Evander confesses that his own power 
 is small, hut iEneas has arrived at a fortunate con¬ 
 juncture. The Etruscans of Agylla, who have just 
 expelled their tyrant Mezentius for his cruelties, have 
 determined to pursue him to the death. Rut they 
 have been warned by their soothsayer to choose a 
 foreign leader; and here they are at the gates of 
 Pailanteum, come to beseech Evander to head their 
 expedition. He is himself too old—his son Pallas too 
 inexperienced; he at once presents to them iEneas as 
 a heaven-sent leader. The omens are all favourable, 
 and both troops and commander are well pleased. 
 Himeas selects the best of his crew, whom Evander 
 furnishes with war-horses; the rest lie sends back in 
 the galleys to bear the tidings of his own movements 
 
JIN EAS MAKES ALLIANCE WITH EVAN DEE. 149 
 
 to his son lulus, and to charge him and the Trojans to 
 keep close within their rampart, in case of attack during 
 his absence. Taking command of his Etruscan allies, 
 and followed by four hundred Arcadian horse under 
 the young Pallas, whom his father gladly sends, as the 
 youths of noble houses were sent in the days of 
 knighthood, to learn the art of war under so great a 
 captain, iEneas sets out on his march for Turnus’s 
 capital. The old king does not part from his son 
 without sad misgivings; he has trusted iEneas with 
 more than his life. 
 
 Venus has not been neglectful of her son. She 
 has persuaded Vulcan to forge for him weapons and 
 
 make. The fire-god can never resist her blandishments; 
 and he goes down to the forge where the Cyclops are 
 ever at work, in the caverns beneath the Lipari Is¬ 
 lands, off the coast of Sicily. There is much business 
 in hand there already. Some of the one-eyed work¬ 
 men are forging bolts for Jupiter, composed of four 
 elements,— 
 
 “ Three rays they took of forky hail, 
 
 Of watery cloud three rays, 
 
 Three of the winged southern gale, 
 
 Three of the ruddy blaze.” * 
 
 Some are finishing a war-chariot for Mars; others are 
 shaping an aegis for Minerva—a shield of dragon’s 
 scales and rings of gold. But their master bids them 
 
 * The thunderbolt is usually represented on ancient coins 
 and medallions with twelve rays. 
 
150 
 
 THE TEN El D. 
 
 put all these tasks aside; War, and Wisdom, and 
 even Government itself, must he content to come to 
 a standstill, until the behests of Beauty have been 
 obeyed. 
 
 The idea of the Shield of ZEneas, which Yenus 
 comes and lays before him while he sleeps, is of course 
 borrowed directly from Homer’s Shield of Achilles. 
 
 But the working out of it is quite original._ Vulca n’s 
 
 subject, in this case, is not, as in the Shield of the 
 Iliad, an epitome of human life, but a prophetic his¬ 
 tory of Rome. The whole passage in which it is ela¬ 
 borately described is of rem arkable beau ty even to our 
 modern taste, and upon a Roman’s ear and imagination 
 must have had a wonderful effect. The story is told 
 in eight (or perhaps nine) compartments, filled with 
 the leading events in the great city’s existence. The 
 two first contain the birth of Romulus, and the union 
 of the Romans w T ith the Sabines, which began with 
 the seizure of the Sabine women:— 
 
 “ There too the mother-wolf he made 
 In Mars’s cave supinely laid : 
 
 Around her udders undismayed 
 The gamesome infants hung, 
 
 While she, her loose neck backward thrown, 
 Caressed them fondly, one by one, 
 
 And shaped them with her tongue. 
 
 Hard by, the towers of Rome he drew 
 And Sabine maids in public view 
 Snatched ’mid the Circus games : 
 
 So ’twixt the fierce Romulean brood 
 And Tatius with his Cures rude 
 A sudden war upflames. 
 
AENEAS MAKES ALLIANCE WITH EVAN HER. 151 
 
 And now the kings, their conflict o’er, 
 Stand up in arms Jove’s shrine before, 
 From goblets pour the sacred wine, 
 
 And make their peace o’er bleeding swine.” 
 
 The doom of Mettius the Alban, and the keeping of 
 the Tiber bridge by Horatius against Lars Porsena, 
 occupy the two next compartments. JS T ext comes 
 the defence of the Capitol against the Gauls by 
 Manlius :— 
 
 “ A silver goose in gilded walls 
 With flapping wings announced the Gauls; 
 
 And through the wood the invaders crept, 
 
 And climbed the height while others slept. 
 Golden their hair on head and chin: 
 
 Gold collars deck their milk-white skin: 
 
 Short cloaks with colours checked 
 Shine on their backs: two spears each wields 
 Of Alpine make: and oblong shields 
 
 Their brawny limbs protect.” 
 
 In the succeeding compartments are wrought the 
 procession of the Salii with the sacred shields, and the 
 •regions of the world below, where Catiline lies in tor¬ 
 ment, while Cato has his portion with the just. And 
 within the whole, round the umbo or boss of the 
 shield, there runs a sea of molten gold in which sport 
 silver dolphins, framing the centre design—the glories 
 
 Augustus':— 
 
 “ There in the midmost meet the sight 
 The embattled fleets, the Actian fight: 
 Leucate flames with warlike show, 
 And golden-red the billows glow. 
 
152 
 
 THE jENEID. 
 
 Here Caesar, leading from their homo 
 The fathers, people, gods of Rome, 
 
 Stands on the lofty stern: 
 
 The constellation of his sire 
 Beams o’er his head, and tongues of fire 
 About his temples burn, 
 
 With favouring Gods and winds to speed 
 Agrippa forms his line: 
 
 The golden beaks, war’s proudest meed, 
 
 High on his forehead shine. 
 
 There, with barbaric troops increased, 
 
 Antonins, from the vanquished East, 
 
 And distant Red-sea side, 
 
 To battle drags the Bactrian bands 
 And Egypt; and behind him stands 
 (Foul shame!) the Egyptian bride.” 
 
 There the gods of Rome—conspicuous amongst whom 
 is the archer Apollo, the tutelary deity of the house of 
 Caesar—put to flight the dog-headed Anubis, and the 
 other monstrous gods of Egypt. There, too, is bla¬ 
 zoned the “ triple triumph ” of Augustus, graced by a 
 long procession of captives of all tribes, from Scythia 
 to the Euphrates. 
 
 “ Such legends traced on Vulcan’s shield 
 The wondering chief surveys: 
 
 On truth in symbol half revealed 
 He feeds his hungry gaze, 
 
 And high upon his shoulders rears 
 The fame and fates of unborn years.” 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 TURN'D S ATTACKS THE TROJAN ENCAMPMENT. 
 
 /Eneas had been right in his forebodings of danger. 
 ' Turnus has heard of the chief’s absence, and takes ad- 
 / vantage of it to lead his force at once against the new- 
 built fortification in which the rest of the Trojans 
 Tier His first attempt is to burn their galleys, where 
 they lie drawn ashore on the river-bank, close to their 
 lines. But the ships are built of th e sacred pine s of 
 Ida, the special favourites of the great goddess Cybele; 
 and she has endued them, by favour of Jupiter, with 
 
 the power of transformation into sea-nymphs when their 
 work is done. Hp soone r^do the torches of the enemy 
 touch them than they slide off into the water, and in 
 their new shape float out to sea. Even this portent 
 does not scare the leader of the Rutuli. “ Lo ! ” he 
 cries—“ Heaven takes from our enemies even their 
 hopes of flight! ” He does but draw his leaguer all 
 the closer round the Trojan lines. Throughout the night 
 the watch-fires blaze at close intervals, and captains 
 of the guard, each with a hundred men, are set at 
 their several posts to prevent the escape of the prey 
 
154 
 
 THE JENE ID. 
 
 before tlie geneial attack which is ordered for the 
 morning. 
 
 But the Rutulian chieftains grow weary of a monot¬ 
 onous duty. They have store of wine in their camp, 
 and they bring it out to cheer their night-watch. The 
 sounds of noisy revelry soon rise from every station, 
 until, as the revellers are gradually overpowered by 
 sleep, all is lulled into unusual silence. 
 
 Two Trojan sentinels have watched anxiously every 
 sound and movement in the enemy’s lines. They 
 are Hisus and his young friend Euryalus,—late among 
 the competitors in the foot-race—inseparable in peace 
 or war. bTisus sees, as he thinks, an opportunity for 
 stealing through the Rutulian guards, and bearing 
 news to iEneas at Pallanteum of the peril in which 
 his son and his companions lie. He is a keen sports¬ 
 man, and knows the forest by-paths well. He con¬ 
 fides his design to Euryalus, but has no notion of taking 
 the youth with him to share the danger. He, on the 
 other hand, insists upon accompanying his friend. 
 The consent of lulus and his elder counsellors is 
 readily obtained. Let them but bring back iEneas 
 to the rescue, and no rewards and honours shall be 
 too great for the pair. Turnus’s horse and armour, 
 Latinus’s royal demesne, captives of price, shall be the 
 guerdon of Nisus : for Euryalus, — the prince will 
 adopt him henceforth as his personal esquire and com¬ 
 panion in arms. One only request the youth has to 
 make. He has an aged mother in the camp—the 
 only one of the elder matrons who refused to be left 
 in safety with Acestes in Sicily, and whom no dangers 
 
TURN US ATTACKS TEE ENCAMPMENT. 155 
 
 could separate from her son. Will the prince promise 
 her solace and protection, should harm befall Euryalus 
 on the way 1 The answer of lulus is given in tears ; 
 he has no mother left, and the mother of Euryalus 
 shall be to him as his own. He girds the youth with 
 the sword from his own side, and the friends set out 
 upon their perilous errand, escorted to the gates by 
 the Trojan captains with prayers and blessings. 
 
 The enterprise might have succeeded, had not the 
 two friends been tempted, by the helpless state in 
 ■which they found the Rutulian camp, to slaughter 
 their sleeping enemies as they passed. Rhamnes and 
 Remus—names to be borne hereafter by more historic 
 actors in the history of Rome—with a crowd of vic¬ 
 tims of lesser note, fall by the swords of Nisus 
 and his companion. Euryalus even stops, with a 
 young man’s vanity, to put on the glittering belt 
 which he has stripped from one of his victims, and the 
 helmet of the sleeping Messapus. Thus precious time 
 is lost, and the moonlight streams upon them as they 
 clear the Rutulian hues, and take the path, which 
 Nisus knows, for Pallanteum. 
 
 A detachment of the enemy’s cavalry is on the 
 march to join Turnus. The glimmer of the moon¬ 
 light on Euryalus’s helmet—his new prize—betrays 
 the friends as they try to steal by, and they are 
 challenged at' once by Yolscens, the commander. 
 They fly to the neighbouring wood; but the horse¬ 
 men surround it, and though Hisus escapes them, 
 it is only to find that his friend has fallen into their 
 hands. He rushes back, and in the wild hope of 
 
156 
 
 THE jENEID. 
 
 effecting a rescue, hides himself in the thicket, whence 
 he launches two spears with fatal effect upon the party 
 who are dragging along their prisoner. Enraged at 
 the sudden attack, and seeing no enemy in the dark¬ 
 ness, Yolscens lays hold upon Euryalus, and vows 
 revenge. Nisus rushes from his cover, and implores 
 them to turn their swords on him, and to spare a 
 youth whose only crime has been his friendship. 
 
 “ In vain he spoke: the sword, fierce driven, 
 
 That alabaster breast had riven. 
 
 Down falls Euryalus, and lies 
 In death’s enthralling agonies: 
 
 Blood trickles o’er his limbs of snow; 
 
 His head sinks gradually low: 
 
 Thus, severed by the ruthless plough, 
 
 Dim fades a purple flower: 
 
 Their weary necks so poppies how, 
 
 O’erladen by the shower. 
 
 But Nisus on the midmost flies, 
 
 With Yolscens, Yolscens in his eyes: 
 
 In clouds the warriors round him rise, 
 
 Thick hailing blow on blow: 
 
 Yet on he bears, no stint, no stay; 
 
 Like thunderbolt his falchion’s sway: 
 
 Till as for aid the Rutule shrieks 
 Plunged in his throat the weapon reeks • 
 
 The dying hand has reft away 
 The lifeblood of its foe. 
 
 Then, pierced to death, asleep he fell 
 On the dead breast he loved so well.” 
 
 With the first dawn Turnus leads his forces to the 
 attack—the heads of Nisus and Euryalus borne in 
 front upon the points of spears, so savage is the Rutu- 
 
TURN US ATTACKS THE ENCAMPMENT, la 7 
 
 lian at the slaughter made by them amongst his sleep 
 mg comrades. The mother of Euryalus has heard the 
 news, and sees the ghastly trophies from the ramparts. 
 lulus performs his promise, and the frantic woman is, 
 under his personal directions, tenderly removed. He 
 Jiimself becomes the hero of the day. The archer’s 
 craft, his love of which had led to the feud with the 
 Latins, is turned to good service in the defence of 
 the camp. Numanus, a brother-in-law of Turnus, is 
 loudly taunting the Trojans in front of their lines :— 
 
 " Twice captured Phrygians! to be pent 
 Once more in leaguered battlement, 
 
 And plant unblushingly between 
 Yourselves and death a stony screen! 
 
 Lo, these the men that draw their swords 
 To part our ladies from their lords! 
 
 What god, what madness brings you here 
 To taste of our Italian cheer l 
 No proud Atridse leads our vans: 
 
 No false Utysses talks and plans: 
 
 E’en from the birth a hardy brood. 
 
 We take our infants to the flood, 
 
 And fortify their tender mould 
 With icy wave and ruthless cold. 
 
 Early and late our sturdy boys 
 
 Seek through the woods a hunter’s joys: 
 
 Their pastime is to tame the steed, 
 
 To bend the bow and launch the reed. 
 
 Our youth, to scanty fare inured, 
 
 Made strong by labour oft endured, 
 
 Subdue the soil with spade and rake, 
 
 Or city walls with battle shake. 
 
 Through life we grasp our trusty spear: 
 
 It strikes the foe, it goads the steer: 
 
158 
 
 THE jENEID. 
 
 Age cannot chill our valour: no, 
 
 The helmet sits on locks of snow; 
 
 And still we love to store our prey, 
 
 And eat the fruits our arms purvey. 
 
 You flaunt your robes in all men’s eyes, 
 
 Your saffron and your purple dyes, 
 
 Recline on downy couch, or weave 
 The dreamy dance from mom to eve: 
 
 Sleeved tunics guard your tender skins, 
 
 And ribboned mitres prop your chins. 
 
 Phrygians!—nay rather Phrygian fair! 
 
 Hence, to your Dindymus repair! 
 
 Go where the flute’s congenial throat 
 Shrieks through two doors its slender note. 
 Where pipe and cymbal call the crewj 
 These are the instruments for you: 
 
 Leave men, like us, in arms to deal, 
 
 Nor bruise your lily hands with steel.” 
 
 lulus, after brief prayer to Jupiter, sends an arrow 
 through the boaster’s temples. But Apollo, taking the 
 shape of the boy’s guardian, Butes, warns him to be 
 content with this first triumph : such weapons, says 
 lie of the silver bow, with that jealousy of mortals 
 common to all pagan divinities, are not for boys. 
 
 Attack and defence are maintained vigorously on 
 either side. Turnus is everywhere, dealing death 
 where he comes. Mezentius, the infidel, tries to fire 
 the palisade: Messapus, “ the horse-tamer,” calls for 
 ladders to scale it. A detachment of Yolscians 
 form a “ tortoise,” by linking their shields like a pent¬ 
 house over their heads, and under this cover try to 
 plant their ladders ; but the Trojans hoist a huge rock 
 aloft, and dash it down with murderous effect upon 
 
T UR XUS ATTACKS THE ENCAMPMENT. ioS 
 
 the roof of shields, crusliing the hearers underneath. 
 A tall wooden flanking-tower is set on fire by Turnus, 
 and falls ever, with its defenders, among the enemy. 
 Two only survive the fall, one of whom—a slave-born 
 warrior, who bears a blank shield—flings himself into 
 the Putulian ranks, and dies there fighting against 
 overwhelming numbers. The other, Lycus, a swift 
 and active runner, reaches the rampart of the intrench- 
 ment, and nearly succeeds in climbing over amongst 
 his friends, when Turnus grasps him and bears him 
 off, in spite of the missiles showered down by his 
 sympathising comrades. 
 
 Pandarus and Bitias, two brothers of gigantic stature, 
 have charge of one of the gateways of the intrenched 
 camp. They throw the double gates wide open, and 
 take their stand, one on either side, within. Past as 
 the more venturous spirits among the enemy rush 
 through, they are either felled by the giant warders, or, 
 if they escape these first, are slain inside by the other 
 Trojans, who even carry the battle outside the gates. 
 Word conies to Turnus of the increasing boldness of 
 the enemy. He rushes to the rescue, slays right and 
 left, and brings Bitias to the ground by hurling at him 
 a huge falarica —a spear used in the great catapults 
 which formed the artillery of those days. His brother 
 Pandarus by main strength closes the great gates, 
 shutting out some of his unfortunate friends as well 
 as his enemies, and shutting in, to the dismay of the 
 Trojans, their terrible enemy. When he sees Turnus, 
 however, he rushes upon him to avenge his brother’s 
 death; but the Rutulian cleaves him with his keen 
 
160 
 
 THE JENE1D. 
 
 falchion down to the chin. Then he turns on tho 
 dismayed defenders, and smites them right and left. 
 Had he hut bethought himself then to open the gates 
 once more, and let his comrades in, so cowed were the 
 Trojans at the moment that their defeat was certain. 
 But all his heart is set on slaughter, and the Trojans, 
 rallied by Mnestheus (the hero of the galley-race), 
 soon find out that he is alone. Nevertheless he fighta 
 his way gallantly towards the river. 
 
 “ The Trojans follow, shouting loud, 
 
 And closer still and closer crowd. 
 
 So when the gathering swains assail 
 A lion with their brazen hail, 
 
 He, glaring rage, begins to quail, 
 
 And sullenly departs: 
 
 Tor shame his back he will not turn, 
 
 Yet dares not, howsoe’er he yearn, 
 
 To charge their serried darts 
 So Turnus lingeringly retires, 
 
 And gflows with ineffectual fires. 
 
 Twice on the foe e’en then he falls, 
 
 Twice routs and drives them round the walla: 
 
 But from the camp in swarms they pour, 
 
 Nor Juno dares to help him more. 
 
 • • • • • • 
 
 At length, accoutred as he stood, 
 
 Headlong he plunged into the flood. 
 
 The yellow flood the charge received, 
 
 With buoyant tide his weight upheaved, 
 
 And cleansing off the encrusted gore, 
 
 Returned him to his friends once more.” 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 THE DEATH OF PALLAS. 
 
 The scene changes to Olympus, where Jupiter holds a 
 council of the gods. He is as much troubled as in the 
 Iliad with the dissensions in his own court, and holds 
 the balance with difficulty between his queen and his 
 daughter, each unscrupulous in their partisanship. 
 Venus complains to him bitterly of the peril in which 
 her son ^Eneas stands, by reason of Juno’s machina¬ 
 tions. That goddess replies, with considerable show 
 of reason, that iEneas has brought his troubles upon 
 himself; that Latinus and Turnus and Lavinia were 
 all going on peacefully before he came; and that— 
 if the whole history of the Trojans must needs be 
 discussed again—Venus herself, by her instrument 
 Helen, was the mother of all the mischief. The king 
 of the gods somewhat loses patience, and swears by 
 the great river of Sty'S;, with the awful nod which 
 shakes Olympus, that Trojan and Rutulian shall even 
 fight it out, and the Fates shall decide the question. 
 So he dissolves the Olympian convocation. 
 
 The fight at the Trojan encampment is renewed ip 
 a. c. voL v. li 
 
!G2 
 
 THE jENEID. 
 
 the morning as fiercely as ever. But succours are on 
 their way. The ships of the Etruscan leader Tarchon 
 •—the name which future kings of Borne were to 
 bear with little alteration—have been sailing all night 
 down the Tyrrhenian Sea, under their new-found chief 
 /Eneas. His galley leads the van; and with him in 
 the stern—for he takes the helm himself—sits young 
 Pallas, hearing him tell of the great deeds of old. The 
 poet gives us something like a muster-roll of the 
 Etruscan chiefs and their followings; more interesting 
 perhaps to the ear of a Boman, who would catch up here 
 and there some historical allusion to a place or family 
 with which he claimed some connection, than to the 
 modern reader, who can have no such sympathies. He 
 gives us, too, the figure-heads from which the ships of 
 the most noted captains took their names : the Tiger 
 —a favourite, it would seem, to our English nautical 
 taste even down to the present day—the Centaur, the 
 Apollo, the Triton, the Mineius—the last-named from 
 the river that flowed by Yirgil’s own town of Mantua,— 
 
 “ Fair town! her sons of high degree, 
 
 Though not unmixed their blood; 
 
 Three races swell the mingled stream : 
 
 Four states from each derive their birth : 
 
 Herself among them sits supreme, 
 
 Her Tuscan blood her chiefest worth.” 
 
 m 
 
 /Eneas has a strange rencontre in his night-voyage. 
 Suddenly there rises round his galley a circle of water- 
 nymphs—they are his own vessels, thus transformed, 
 and their errand is to warn him of the danger in which 
 
THE DEATH OF PALLAS. 
 
 1C3 
 
 lulus and his people lie. The sight which meets his 
 eyes as he enters the Tiber at daybreak confirms their 
 tidings: he sees the camp surrounded by enemies.^ 
 Standing high upon his deck, he raises aloft the 
 wondrous shield. The Trojans recognise in the signal 
 the arrival of the help they so sorely need, and welcome 
 it with prolonged shouts. Then their enemies note it 
 also,—and the fight grows fiercer still. Tarchon— 
 who seems to act as captain of the fleet under iEneas 
 as admiral—looks out a good place to beach the galleys, 
 bids the men give way with a will, and runs them 
 well up, the forepart high and dry—all, except the 
 gallant captain himself, whose vessel breaks her back 
 
 ! and goes to pieces. 
 
 Turnus has left the command of the storming-party 
 to his lieutenants, and gone down himself with a 
 picked force to oppose iEneas’s landing. The Arcadian 
 contingent, unused to fighting on foot and half in the 
 water, get into confusion, and turn. Young Pallas 
 gallantly rallies them, for the honour of his country¬ 
 men. He himself wins his spurs, in this his first field, 
 by deeds which would become iEneas himself. One 
 brief episode in his exploits is pathetic enough. There 
 are fighting on the Itutulian side the twin-brothers 
 Thymber and Larides 
 
 “ So like, the sweet confusion e’en 
 Their parents’ eyes betrayed; 
 
 But Pallas twin and twin between 
 Has cruel difference made; 
 
 For Thymber’s head the steel has shorn ; 
 Larides’ severed hand forlorn 
 Feels blindly for its lord; 
 
164 
 
 THE JENEID. 
 
 The quivering fingers, half alive, 
 
 Twitch with convulsive gripe, and strive 
 To close upon the sword.” 
 
 Young Lausus, the son of the tyrant Mezentius, is 
 leading his men against Pallas, when a greater soldier 
 interposes between the tw r o young heroes. Turnus 
 comes, and Pallas meets him eagerly—yet not with¬ 
 out full consciousness of the inequality of the combat. 
 He hurls his spear, so strongly and truly that it pene¬ 
 trates through Turnus’s shield, and slightly grazes his 
 body. Then Turnus launches his weapon in return, 
 and it goes right through the metal plates and tough 
 ox-hide of the shield, and through the corselet of Pallas, 
 deep into his breast, and the young prince falls to the 
 ground writhing in his dying agony. Turnus stands 
 astride of the corpse, and shouts triumphantly to the 
 discomfited Arcadians. Yet there is something gener¬ 
 ous, according to the fierce code of the times, in his 
 treatment of his dead enemy; he neither strips the 
 armour, nor makes any attempt to prevent the Arca¬ 
 dians from carrying off the body. He bids them hear 
 it home to King Evander for burial; only with a warn¬ 
 ing as to what fate awaits the allies of the foreigner:—. 
 
 “ Who to .Eneas plays the host, 
 
 Must square the glory with the cost.” 
 
 One trophy he takes from the person of the dead 
 prince—a belt richly embroidered in gold with the 
 tale of the daughters of Danaus. He girds it on over 
 his armour, unconscious of the influence it will have 
 upon his own fate. 
 
THE DEATH OF PALLAS. 
 
 1G3 
 
 iEneas, in a different quarter of the field, hears of 
 the death of his young esquire, and furiously hews his 
 way towards Turnus. All who cross his path, veteran 
 chiefs and young aspirants to glory, alike go down be¬ 
 fore him, and no appeal for mercy checks his hand. 
 Eight prisoners he takes alive; but only with the 
 intent to slay them as victims at the funeral pile of 
 Pallas. But the rival champions do not meet as yet. 
 Juno, fearing, the issue of an encounter with iEneas in 
 his present mood, cheats the eyes of Turnus with a 
 phantom in his enemy’s shape. When Turnus meets 
 it in the fight, the shape turns and flies towards the 
 ships, pursued by him with bitter taunts on Trojan 
 cowardice. One galley has her gangway down, and 
 the false /Ene as takes refuge on_b oard. Turnus follows; 
 when the moorings are" loosed by an invisible hand, 
 the galley floats down stream, and the Butulian, rav¬ 
 ing and half determined to end his disgrace by suicide 
 when he finds out how he has been cheated, is swept 
 along the coast to his own town of Ardea. 
 
 Mezentius takes his place, and seconded by his son 
 Lausus, spreads slaughter amongst the Trojan ranks. 
 But a spear cast by the strong hand of iEneas lodges 
 in the groin of the father, and the son gallantly rushes 
 forward to cover his retreat. iEneas warns the youth 
 to stand back—some thought, it may be, of Pallas 
 makes him: unwilling to take the younger life; but 
 Lausus dares his fate, and the Trojan falchion, driven 
 home through his light shield and broidered vest— 
 
 “ The vest his mother wove with gold ”— 
 
TGG 
 
 THE jENEID. 
 
 reaches the young chiefs heart. iEneas can he gener¬ 
 ous too. He will not strip the body; nay, he chides 
 the cowardice of Lausus’s comrades, who hesitate to 
 lift the dying youth, and himself raises him carefully 
 from the ground, and gives him what comfort may be 
 gathered from the fact that he has met his death “ at 
 ^Eneas’s hand.” 
 
 Mezentius hears of the death of his son as he lies 
 by the river-bank bathing his wound. With a cry of 
 agony the father bewails his own crimes, which had 
 thus brought death upon his innocent son. Crippled 
 as he is, he calls for his good horse Khaebus, who has 
 ever hitherto btfrne him home victor from the battle. 
 To-day they two will carry home the head of Hmeas, or 
 fall together. He charges desperately upon the Trojan, 
 who is right glad to meet him. Thrice he wheels his 
 horse round his wary enemy, hurling javelin after 
 javelin, which the Vulcanian shield receives on its 
 broad circumference, and retains until it looks, in the 
 j)oet’s language, like a grove of steel. At last HCneas 
 launches a spear which strikes Mezentius’s horse full in 
 the forehead, and poor Rhmbus rears, and rolling over 
 in his dying agonies, pins his master to the ground. 
 Hmeas rushes in upon the fallen champion, who, dis¬ 
 daining to ask quarter, bares his throat to the sword, 
 and dies as fearlessly as he has lived. 
 
GHAPTEE XII. 
 
 THE DEATH OF CAMILLA. 
 
 JEneas’s first care, after raising a trophy crowned with 
 the arms of the slain Mezentius, is to send home to 
 Evander the- body of his son. A picked detachment 
 escort it to Laurentum with all honour, wrapped in 
 robes of gold — embroidered robes, wrought by the 
 hands of the unfortunate Dido. The youth’s charger, 
 iEthon, is led behind the bier, and his lance and helm 
 are also borne in the procession; a custom which we 
 have borrowed from the Bomans, and retain to this 
 day in our military funerals. iEthon weeps copious 
 tears for his dead master; an incident not so entirely 
 due to a poet’s imagination as it may seem, since the 
 historian Suetonius tells us that some favourite horses 
 of Julius Caesar showed the same tokens of grief, and 
 refused their food, just before his death. Another 
 feature in the obsequies of Pallas is happily obsolete; 
 the prisoners whom iEneas had taken alive with this 
 express object follow behind the corpse, to be sacrificed 
 at the funeral pile. There was nothing horrible to the 
 polished courtiers of Augustus in such a thought. Even 
 
108 
 
 THE jENEIB. 
 
 in that age of refinement and civilisation, the en peroi 
 himself, after the defeat of Antony’s party at Pernsia, 
 was said to have slaughtered three hundred prisoners 
 in honour of the great Julius, to whom altars were 
 raised as a demi-god. True, the story was probably 
 an invention of political opponents; but the mere fact 
 that such a story could be invented and believed, 
 marks strongly the cruel temper of the age. The old 
 king receives back, in bitter grief, all that remains to 
 him of the gallant son whom he had so lately sent 
 forth to his first fatal field : and he charges iEneas, 
 by the mouth of the envoys, to avenge him on his 
 son’s murderer—for this he only waits to close his own 
 eyes. 
 
 A truce of twelve days is agreed upon between the 
 armies for the burial of their dead. The Latins have 
 meanwhile sent an embassy to ask aid from Diomed, 
 the hero of the Trojan war, who has come home and 
 settled in Italy. He is paying the penalty of having 
 wounded Yenus in the battle before Troy, and is not 
 allowed to reach his native Argolis. He warns the 
 ambassadors that it is not good to war against the race 
 from which iEneas comes—he, for his part, will have 
 no more of it. At this crisis the Latins hold a council 
 of war. Their king advises a compromise with the 
 enemy—a grant of land on which to settle, or a new 
 equipped fleet to carry the fortunes of Troy yet further 
 on. Then there rises in the council one Hrances, a 
 better orator than warrior, who boldly proposes to 
 give the princess Lavinia to the bridegroom whom the 
 gods have sent. Or, let Turnus meet iEneas in single 
 
TEE BE ATE OF CAMILLA. 
 
 1C9 
 
 combat—why are the rest to suffer for his pride ] Is 
 all Latium to he steeped in blood that Turnus may 
 have a princess to wife 1 Turnus is not slow to reply. 
 He will go forth to meet the Trojan willingly—will 
 Drances follow him! 
 
 Even while they thus debate, iEneas has left his 
 intrenchments by the Tiber, and is marching on the 
 city. The queen with her daughter and the terrified 
 women betake themselves to the temples, while Turnus 
 sets himself to marshal his allies for the defence. 
 While some are left to guard the walls, the whole 
 force of cavalry ride out to meet the enemy. His best 
 lieutenant for this service is the huntress Camilla. 
 She leads her light Volscian horse, supported by Mes- 
 sapus Avith his heavier Latins, to meet the cavalry 
 of ./Eneas, while Turnus with his squadron lays an 
 ambuscade for him in a wooded valley. Camilla, 
 with her fair staff of followers, Tulla and Tarpeia— 
 names of ominous sound to Roman ears—deals slaugh¬ 
 ter in the enemy’s ranks in no feminine fashion. 
 
 “ A Phrygian mother mourned her son 
 For every dart that tlew.” 
 
 Rut, fierce Amazon as she is, she is tempted by a 
 woman’s love of ornament. There is a Trojan, one 
 Chlorus, priest as well as man-at-arms, conspicuous for 
 the brilliant accoutrements of his charger and himself 
 His horse is covered with chain-armour clasped with 
 gold; and purple and saffron, and gold embroidery—- 
 the full splendours of Asiatic costume which he affects 
 —mark him out as a tempting prey. It might havo 
 
170 
 
 THE JENEID. 
 
 been, the poet suggests, a desire to deck some of her 
 national temples with such distinguished spoils,—or 
 it might have been, he admits, only a woman’s fancy 
 to wear them herself,—but she singles him out and 
 chases him over the field, regardless of her own safety. 
 Arruns the Tuscan has long sought his opportunity, 
 and his spear reaches Camilla as she gallops in head¬ 
 long pursuit of her gay enemy. 
 
 “ In vain she strives with dying hands 
 To wrench away the blade : 
 
 Fixed in her ribs the weapon stands, 
 
 Closed by the wound it made. 
 
 Bloodless and faint, she gasps for breath; 
 
 Her heavy eyes sink down in death ; 
 
 Her cheek’s bright colours fade.” 
 
 So dies Camilla ; and the Yolscian horse are so dis 
 heartened by her loss that they turn and fly to the city, 
 so closely pursued by the Trojans that the gates have 
 to be hastily closed, shutting out in many cases 
 friends as well as foes. Turnus leaves the cover of 
 the wood to attack iEneas, but night falls on the 
 plain before their forces meet. 
 
CHAPTER Xm. 
 
 THE LAST COMBAT. 
 
 The spirit of the Latins is wellnigh broken—they 
 feel that their cause is a failing one. And Turnus sees 
 angry eyes bent upon him, as the cause of this ill-fated 
 war. He will take all hazards, then, upon himself: 
 there shall he no more blood shed of Latin or Rutulian 
 -—unless it he his own. He declares his intention to 
 Latinus—he will meet iEneas in single combat. The 
 old king is reluctant to allow it: Queen Amata, with 
 tears and prayers, begs him to forego his resolution. 
 Lavinia herself—such is the entire reticence of the 
 maiden nature in epic story—speaks no word through¬ 
 out the whole. But, as modern critics have long dis¬ 
 covered, there is no question hut that she has a senti¬ 
 ment for Turnus. She hardly could have a thought of 
 ^Eneas, whom she had never seen. When she hears 
 her mother’s • appeal to the Rutulian prince, she does 
 almost more than speak—she blushes, through her 
 tears. 
 
 “ Deep crimson glows the sudden flame, 
 
 And dyes her tingling cheek with shame. 
 
172 
 
 THE JZNEID. 
 
 So blushes ivory’s Indian grain, 
 When sullied with vermilion stain: 
 So lilies set in roseate bed 
 Enkindle with contagious red.” 
 
 These last four lines, in Mr Conington’s version, read 
 like a bit of Waller or Lovelace—and yet they are a 
 fairly close translation of the original. 
 
 The challenge is sent to iEneas, and by him joyfully 
 accepted. There shall be solemn truce between Tro¬ 
 jan and Rutulian, while the rival champions do battle 
 for the princess and the kingdom. Turnus, too, has 
 one weapon of Vulcan’s forging—his father’s sword. 
 But now, in his haste for the combat, he snatches up 
 and girds on a blade of less divine temper. The lists 
 are set between the two lines, and the oaths duly 
 sworn. iEneas calls the gods to witness, that if the 
 victory falls to Turnus, the Trojans on their part shall 
 retire at once to Evander’s colony, and make war no 
 more on Latinm. Or even if he himself be the con¬ 
 queror, he will not treat the Latins as a conquered 
 race :— 
 
 V 
 
 « 
 
 I will not force Italia’s land 
 To Teucrian rule to bow ; 
 
 I seek no sceptre for my hand, 
 
 No diadem for my brow : 
 
 Let race and race, unquelled and free, 
 Join hands in deathless amity.” 
 
 / 
 
 But at once, before, the rivals meet, by the instiga¬ 
 tion of Juno the truce is broken on the part of the 
 Rutulians. They have a strong fear that their own 
 champion, young and gallant as he is, is no equal 
 
THE LAST COMBAT. 
 
 173 
 
 match in arms for the great iEneas: he is hut moving 
 to his death. So speaks the seer Tolumnius, and points 
 to an omen on the river - hank : an eagle swooping 
 down upon a flock of swans, and hearing one off in his 
 talons, hut put to flight when they turn in a hody and 
 pursue him. JEneas is the hird of prey—they are the 
 unwarlike swans; let them hut turn on him, and he 
 too will fly. The seer is not content with the mere 
 exposition of auguries; at once he hurls his own jave¬ 
 lin into the Trojan ranks, and brings down his man. 
 The fight speedily becomes general. Ahieas, unarmed 
 and bareheaded, rushes between the ranks, and is 
 wounded by an arrow while he calls loudly on his own 
 men to keep the truce. None knew, or cared to know^ 
 from whose hand the arrow came : for no man, says 
 the poet, was ever heard to boast of such a coward’s 
 shot. 
 
 Then, while iEneas is led to the camp, faint and 
 bleeding, by his son lulus and his faithful Achates,— 
 while the aged leech, lapis, vainly tries all his skill 
 upon the wound—for the barb will not quit the flesh, 
 ■—Turnus spreads slaughter among the Trojan ranks. 
 But only for a while. Venus drops a healing balsam 
 into the water wi th winch he r son’s wound is being 
 bathed; at once the arrow-head drops out, and the 
 hero stands up sound and whole. Aga in he dons the 
 Vulcanian armour, and re-enters the battle. The 
 Butulians give way before him, but he scorns to smite 
 the fugitives, and seeks out only Turnus. And Tur¬ 
 nus, pale and unnerved—for the presage of his fate 
 lies heavy upon his soul—has no longer any mind to 
 
174 
 
 THE JENEID. 
 
 meet him. It is very strange, to our modern notions 
 of heroism, to see this infirmity of resolution in a tried 
 soldier and captain like Turnus. But the heroes of 
 these elder days lose heart at once when they feel 
 their star is no longer in the ascendant. Turnus, like 
 Hector in the Iliad, shrinks from the fate which he 
 foresees. 
 
 Turnus has a sister, Juturna, a river-nymph and 
 demi-goddess, a favourite of Juno, who has warned 
 her if possible to save her brother. She now takes 
 the place of his charioteer, and, while she drives 
 rapidly over the field, takes care to keep him far from 
 iEneas, who is calling loudly on him to halt and keep 
 his compact of personal duel. At last the Trojan 
 leader, baffled in this object, throws all his forces 
 suddenly on the town, which lies almost at his mercy, 
 stripped of its defenders, and bids his captains bring 
 torches and scaling-ladders. A horseman, sorely 
 wounded in the face, brings word of this new danger 
 to Turnus as he is wheeling madly over the battle¬ 
 field, and implores him to come to the rescue. Ho 
 looks round towards the walls, and sees the flames 
 already mounting. Then he rallies once more the old 
 courage which had so strangely failed him. He sees 
 his fate as clearly as before, but he will meet it. He 
 knows his sister now, too late, in his charioteer; but 
 he will fly no longer—“ Is death such great wretched¬ 
 ness, after all 1 ” He leaps from his chariot, as he 
 knows, to meet it, lifts his hand, and shouts to his 
 Rutulians to stay their hands, and the ranks ot 
 both armies divide before him as he makes towards 
 
THE LAST COMBAT. 
 
 175 
 
 the part of the wall where iEneas is leading the 
 attack. 
 
 “ But great iEneas, when he hears 
 The challenge of his foe, 
 
 The leaguer of the town forbears, 
 
 Lets town and rampart go, 
 
 Steps high with exultation proud, 
 
 And thunders on his arms aloud ; 
 
 Vast as majestic Athos, vast 
 As Eryx the divine, 
 
 Or he that roaring with the blast 
 
 Heaves his huge bulk in snow-drifts massed, 
 
 The father Apennine.” 
 
 Trojans, Latins, and Eutulians look on in awe and 
 admiration as the two chiefs advance to try this last 
 ordeal of battle. Each hurl their spears—without 
 effect; then Turnus draws his sword, and they fight 
 on hand to hand— 
 
 “ Giving and taking wounds alike, 
 
 With furious impact home they strike ; 
 
 Shoulder and neck are bathed in gore: 
 
 The forest depths return the roar. 
 
 So, shield on shield, together dash 
 iEneas and his Daunian foe ; 
 
 The echo of that deafening crash 
 Mounts heavenward from below.’' 
 
 But the faithless sword which Turnus had so carelessly 
 girded on instead of his father’s good weapon, though 
 it has done him fair service on the crowd of meaner 
 enemies, breaks in his grasp when he essaya it on the 
 
176 
 
 THE JENEID 
 
 armour of iEneas, and thus helpless, he takes to flight, 
 ^neas hotly pursuing. 
 
 “ Five times they circle round the place, 
 
 Five times the winding course retrace ; 
 
 N o trivial game is here : the strife 
 Is waged for Turnus’ own dear life.” 
 
 A dark-plumaged bird is seen to hover round the 
 devoted head of the Rutulian chief, half blinding him 
 with its flapping wings. It is a Fury whom the king 
 of the gods has sent in that shape to harass him. 
 At length, in his flight, he finds a huge stone, which 
 not twelve men of “ to-day's degenerate sons ” could 
 lift. 
 
 “ He caught it up, and at his foe 
 Discharged it, rising to the throw, 
 
 And straining as he runs. 
 
 But ’wildering fears his mind unman ; 
 
 Running, he knew not that he ran, 
 
 Nor throwing that he threw ; 
 
 Heavily move his sinking knees ; 
 
 The streams of life wax dull and freeze: 
 
 The stone, as through the void it past, 
 
 Failed of the measure of its cast, 
 
 Nor held its purpose true. 
 
 E’en as in dreams, when on the eyes 
 The drowsy weight of slumber lies, 
 
 In vain to ply our limbs we think, 
 
 And in the helpless effort sink ; 
 
 Tongue, sinews, all, their powers bely, 
 
 And voice and speech our call defy : 
 
 So, labour Turnus as he will, 
 
 The Fury mocks the endeavour still. 
 
THE LAST COMBAT. 
 
 177 
 
 Dim shapes before liis senses reel: 
 
 On host and town lie turns his sight: 
 
 He quails, he trembles at the steel, 
 
 Nor knows to fly, nor knows to fight: 
 
 Nor to his pleading eyes appear 
 The car, the sister charioteer. 
 
 ‘ The deadly dart iEneas shakes : 
 
 His aim with stern precision takes, 
 
 Then hurls with all his frame ; 
 
 Less loud from battering-engine cast 
 Roars the fierce stone, less loud the blast 
 Follows the lightning’s flame. 
 
 On rushes as with whirlwind wings 
 The spear that dire destruction brings, 
 
 Makes passage through the corselet’s marge, 
 
 A.nd enters the seven-plated targe 
 Where the last ring runs round. 
 
 The keen point pierces through the thigh, 
 
 Down on his bent knee heavily 
 Comes Turnus to the ground.” 
 
 The a:utulian prince confesses his defeat, and asks 
 liis lift in no craven spirit, for the sake of his aged 
 father--bidding iEneas think of old Anchises. The 
 conqueior lmll relents, when his eyes fall upon some¬ 
 thing which makes that appeal worse than useless. 
 
 “ Rolling his eyes, iEneas stood, 
 
 And checked his sword, athirst for blood. 
 
 Now faltering more and more he felt 
 The human heart within him melt, 
 
 When round the shoulder wreathed in pride 
 The belt of Pallas he espied, 
 
 And sudden flashed upon his view 
 Those golden studs so well he knew, 
 a. 0 . vol. v. 
 
 M 
 
178 TEE jENEID. 
 
 Which Turnus in his hour of joy 
 Stripped from the newly-slaughtered boy, 
 And on his bosom bore, to show 
 The triumph of a satiate foe. 
 
 Soon as his eyes at one fell draught 
 Kemembrance and revenge had quaffed. 
 
 Live fury kindling every vein, 
 
 He cries with terrible disdain: 
 
 ‘ What! in my friend’s dear spoils arrayed 
 To me for mercy sue ? 
 
 *Tis Pallas, Pallas guides the blade ; 
 
 From your cursed blood his injured shade 
 Thus takes the atonement due.* 
 
 Thus as he spoke, his sword he drave 
 With fierce and fiery blow 
 Through the broad breast before him spread; 
 The stalwart limbs grow cold and dead; 
 
 One groan the indignant spirit gave, 
 
 Then sought the shades below.” 
 
 So closes the iEneid. Does any reader complain 
 
 that the poet has not carried the story further ? With 
 
 the death of Turnus the catastrophe is complete. The 
 
 princess of Latium is the prize of the victor; and the 
 
 loves of dEneas and Lavinia are certainly not of that 
 
 «/ 
 
 romantic character that we need care to follow them. 
 The Trojans are settled in Italy—two races under one 
 name. For so has Jupiter promised, as some indul¬ 
 gence to the feelings of his queen, that the old Latin 
 name shall at least not be merged in the detested name 
 of Trojan, and on such terms has the goddess reluc¬ 
 tantly acquiesced in the settlement of the wanderers 
 on Italian ground. Latins, not Troians, are to ride 
 
THE LAST COMBAT. 
 
 179 
 
 tho world. Thus lias the poet combined the indigen¬ 
 ous glories of his country with the grand descent of 
 its rulers from the old mythical heroes of Troy. 
 
 Yet there is a singular vein of melancholy to be 
 traced in the words of iEneas, when he parts with his 
 son before he goes to his last victory. They are per¬ 
 haps the noblest words which tho poet has put into 
 his mouth, and they have something of the sadness 
 which more or less affects all true nobility :— 
 
 “ In his mailed arms his child he pressed, 
 
 Kissed through his helm, and thus addressed : 
 
 ‘ Learn of your father to be great, 
 
 Of others to be fortunate.’ ” 
 
 The old tradition—well known, no doubt, to Virgil's 
 audience and first readers—was that the son, not the 
 father, lived to enjoy the sovereignty of Latium. The 
 hero of many vicissitudes was not held to have 
 settled down into the peaceful rest which he looks 
 forward to, throughout the poet’s story, as the end of 
 all his campaigns and wanderings. The Rutulians, so 
 said the legends, would not yet bow to the foreign 
 usurper; and iEneas fought his last battle with them 
 on the banks of the river Numicius, and then, like so 
 many of the favourite heroes of a people—-disappeared ; 
 cither carried, living or dead, by some divine agency, 
 to heaven, or caught away in the arms of the river- 
 god. 
 
CHAPTER XIY. 
 
 CONCLUDING REMARKS. 
 
 The iEneid has two drawbacks to its popularity aa 
 an epic poem amongst modern readers. One defect 
 is common to all classical fiction—that there is no 
 love-romance, properly so called, on the part either of 
 the hero or of any other male character in the poem. 
 Love, as now understood, has no place either in Virgil 
 or Homer. We find in their verse none of those 
 finer shades of feeling, that loyal personal allegiance, 
 that high unselfish devotion, the mysterious sympathy, 
 as untranslatable by anything but itself as the most 
 perfect wording of the poet, which, nursed, it has 
 been said, in the lap of Northern chivalry, but surely 
 of much older birth, has given now for centuries to 
 poet and to novelist their highest charm and inspira¬ 
 tion. Poets had to sing as they could without it in 
 Virgil’s days. Augustus and Octavia, as they listened 
 to the courtly raconteur , would have opened their eyes 
 wide with astonishment if he had sung to them of the 
 devotion of Lancelot, as surely as they would have 
 laughed at the purity of Galahad. They understood 
 what love was, in their fashion; many ladies of the 
 
Concluding remarks. 
 
 181 
 
 court sympathised with Dido, no douht. They under¬ 
 stood well enough “the fury of a woman scorned.’* 
 They had seen a whole love-poem in real life, with 
 the appropriate tragical denouement , in Antony and 
 Cleopatra. That was their notion of the grand pas¬ 
 sion. Probably the more shrewd among them looked 
 upon Antony as a fool to prefer “ love ” to empire, 
 and applauded Hlneas’s “ piety ” in obeying the 
 oracles of the gods, when they pointed to a new wife 
 whose dowry was a kingdom. There was quite love 
 enough in the action of the poem to suit their tastes, 
 and at anything better or purer they would have only 
 shrugged their fair patrician shoulders. 
 
 But there is a more serious defect in the interest of 
 the iEneid, when presented to English readers. It is, 
 that iEneas is no hero. All the defences and apolo¬ 
 gies which have been made for him are perfectly just, 
 and perfectly unnecessary. He was a hero quite good 
 enough for the court of Augustus, and so far quite 
 suitable for Virgil’s purpose. Le Bossu was perfectly 
 right when he contended that a hero, to he an object 
 of legitimate interest, need not he a pattern of moral 
 virtues. He might have gone further, and said that 
 such paragons, who are plainly superior to the ordinary 
 weaknesses of human nature, generally make very dull 
 heroes indeed. Undoubtedly ./Eneas is a dutiful son, 
 a respectable father, and, it may even be admitted, in 
 spite of the unfortunate way in which he lost his wife, 
 an exemplary husband. He spread his palms out to 
 heaven in the most orthodox fashion on all occasions, 
 and listened obediently to the message which the gods 
 
182 
 
 THE jENEID. 
 
 were always sending him, to set up his home in Latium 
 at all costs. All these estimable qualities are enough 
 to furnish forth a dozen heroes. He is also ready to 
 fight on all proper occasions; and as to the charge 
 that he is equally ready to weep upon all occasions, 
 which has been brought against him by one set of 
 critics, and excused by others, both might have spared 
 their pens; for it is a weakness which may be charged 
 with equal truth upon most of the heroes, not only of 
 classical fiction, but of classical history. It is not 
 only that the chiefs of the Iliad weep without fearing 
 any imputation against their manliness, but if we are 
 to trust the unsensational chronicles of Caesar, the 
 whole rank and file of his army, even the veterans of 
 the tenth legion—the “ fighting division ”—when first 
 they heard that they were to be led against the tall 
 and truculent-looking Germans, “ could not restrain 
 their tears,” and set to work to make their wills forth¬ 
 with. The thing is unaccountable, except from some 
 strange difference of temperament; for who can ima¬ 
 gine a company of our veriest raw ploughboy recruits 
 so behoving themselves h They might shake in their 
 very shoes ; they might even very probably run away: 
 but crying and howling is not our way of expressing 
 emotion, after childhood is past. But we are accus¬ 
 tomed to read of such exhibitions of feeling in the 
 natives of warmer climates, as, for instance, in the 
 characters of Scripture ; and an occasional burst of 
 tears on iEneas’s part would not have unlieroed him 
 in our estimation one whit. It is his desertion of 
 l)ido which makes an irredeemable poltroon of him in 
 
CONCLUDING REMARKS. 
 
 183 
 
 all honest English eyes. A woman and a queen receives 
 the shipwrecked wanderer with a more than Oriental 
 hospitality; loves him, “not wisely but too well”— 
 and he deserts her. And then Mercury is made to 
 remark, as a reason for Aeneas getting away as quickly 
 as possible, that “varium et mutabile semper fcemina /” 
 —that the poor lady's mood was changeable, forsooth ! 
 The desertion is in obedience to the will of the gods, 
 nc doubt. That explanation satisfied the critics of 
 Augustus’s day, and he was to them, as Yirgil calls 
 him, the “ pious ” Ahieas. To the modern reader, 
 such an authorisation only makes the treachery more 
 disgusting. The morality of English romance, ancient 
 or modern, is by no means immaculate. Tristram and 
 Iseult, still more Lancelot and Guinevere, are of very 
 frail clay. The Sir Galahads ride alone ; then, now, 
 and always, in fiction as in fact. But a hero who 
 could be false to a woman, and who was to find in 
 that falsehood the turning-point to fame and success, 
 —he might befit the loose tale with which the rybauder 
 raised a laugh round the camp-fire, but he was the 
 subject of no lay to which noble knight or dame would 
 listen. The passion might be only pars amours , but 
 it must be loyal. To keep such faith, once pledged, 
 the hero might break all other laws, divine or human; 
 but keep it he must. “ Loyaulte passe tout , et fauls- 
 sete honnet tout." The principle is by no means the 
 highest, but it is incomparably higher than Virgil’s. 
 And this makes Lancelot, in spite of his great crime, a 
 hero in one sense, even to the purest mind, while the 
 calculating piety of /Eneas is revolting. 
 
184 
 
 THE uENEIV. 
 
 The apologetic criticisms of some translators, whe 
 have felt themselves hound not only to give a faithful 
 version of their author, hut to defend his conception 
 of a hero, are highly entertaining. Dryden, who was 
 said hy one of his malicious critics to have written 
 “ for the court ladies,” admits candidly that he knows 
 they “will make a numerous party against him,” and 
 that he “ cannot much hlame them, for, to say the 
 truth, it is an ill precedent for their gallants to follow;” 
 winding up with a satirical suggestion that they would 
 do well at least “ to learn experience at her cost.” 
 But in spite of this special pleading, even Dryden 
 cannot conceal from himself that his hero makes hut a 
 very poor figure in this part of the story; nor can he 
 resist the humorous remark that he was more afraid of 
 Dido, after all, than of Jupiter. “ For you may ob¬ 
 serve,” says he, “that as much intent as he'was upon 
 his voyage, yet he still delayed it uutil the messenger 
 was obliged to tell him plainly, that if he weighed not 
 anchor in the night, the queen would be with him in 
 the morning.” Delille says that Hineas “ triumphed 
 over his passions in order to obey the will of heaven ; ” 
 and forgets to add, that the triumph would have been 
 more complete and more creditable if it had been 
 achieved somewhat earlier in the story. He notices 
 the unfortunate fate of poor Creusa,—left to follow as 
 she might, and never missed till the more fortunate 
 survivors met at the rendezvous,—only to say how 
 necessary it was for the purposes of the story to dispose 
 of her somehow, if there was a new wife awaiting 
 tineas in Italy; and how the account (his own ao 
 
CON CL UDTNG REM A RKS. 
 
 185 
 
 count) of his affectionate search for her (with the usual 
 tears) must have recommended him to Dido, and ex¬ 
 cused that poor lady for falling in love with him 
 instantly! Rousseau has more truth in his epigram, 
 —what could Dido expect better from a man who left 
 his lawful wife to be burnt in Troy, and vowed he 
 never missed her 1 Segrais, very like a Frenchman of 
 the days of Louis XIY., thinks all would have been 
 right if ^Eneas had but thrown a little more sentiment 
 into the parting, and had bestowed upon Dido a few 
 of those tears which were so ready upon less pathetic 
 occasions.* As to the scene in the Shades, where the 
 
 * Dido has always been a favourite heroine with Frenchmen, 
 and has been worked up into three or four tragedies. One 
 writer, partly adopting M. Segrais’s notion of how things 
 ought to have been—that is to say, how a Frenchman would 
 have behaved himself when such a parting was inevitable—has 
 made JEneas take at least a civil farewell of the injured queen:— 
 
 “ Helas ! si de mon sort j’avais ici mon choix, 
 
 Bornant k vous aimer le bonheur de ma vie, 
 
 Je tiendrais de vos mains un sceptre, une patrie : 
 
 Les dieux m’ont envie le seul de leurs bienfaits, 
 
 Qui pourait Sparer tous les maux qu’ils m’ont faits.” 
 
 And Dido, mollified by this declaration, far from cursing the 
 fugitive lover in her last moments, assures him of her unchange¬ 
 able affection, rather apologising for having so inconveniently 
 fallen in his way, and delayed him so improperly from Lavinia 
 and his kingdom :— 
 
 “ Et toi, d’ont j’ai troublde la haute destinde, 
 
 Toi, qui ne m’entends plus—adieux, mon cher A£n6o ! 
 
 Ne crains point ma colere—elle expire avec moi, 
 
 Et mes demiers soupirs sont encore pour toi! ” + 
 
 t Le Franc de Pompignau, “ Didon.” 
 
186 
 
 THE jENEID. 
 
 false lover begins at last to make bis tardy excuses 
 and apologies, the French critic fairly throws up his 
 brief for the defence, and contents himself with the 
 suggestion that this was one of those passages in the 
 poem with which Virgil himself was dissatisfied, and 
 which he must certainly have intended to correct. 
 But iEneas has, in fact, little personal character of any 
 kind. He is only what Keble calls him, “a shadow 
 with a mighty name; ” and that writer even goes so 
 far as to suggest, that in the curse imprecated upon 
 him by Dido, and her treatment of him in the Shades, 
 we may see an intimation that the poet intended the 
 abasement of his hero.* 
 
 Turnus will always find more favour in the eyes of 
 modern readers than his rival. Our English sym¬ 
 pathies do not run at all with the foreign adventurer 
 who comes between him and his promised bride, and 
 who claims both the lady and the kingdom by virtue of 
 a convenient oracle. Mr Gladstone’s may perhaps be 
 only an ingenious fancy, that Turnus was really the 
 favourite with the poet himself; that although he 
 made HCneas victorious, as was required, in order to 
 carry out the complimentary reference of the Roman 
 origin to Troy, still the young chief of native Italian 
 blood, maintaining a gallant struggle for his rights 
 against gods and men, and only conquered at the last 
 by supernatural force and fraud, was purposely held 
 out to popular admiration. But we must, at least, feel 
 sympathy with him as utterly over-weighted in the 
 final struggle by the superior strength and immortal 
 
 * Frselect., ii. 724. 
 
CONCLUDING REMARKS. 
 
 187 
 
 arms of his adversary, and the flapping of the Fury’s 
 awful wings 
 
 To trace the influence of the iEneid upon modern 
 poetry would require a separate treatise. Spenser is 
 full of Virgil. Tasso’s great poem is in many passages 
 the iEneid made Christian, with its heroes trans¬ 
 planted from the days of Troy to those of the Crusades. 
 Dante borrows less from him, though with an intenser 
 reverence he takes him for his “ master ” and his guide. 
 In his mind, indeed, Virgil seems to have held a place 
 midway, as it were, between the Pagan and the Chris¬ 
 tian life. If Beatrice represents, as has been said, the 
 heavenly “ Wisdom,” Virgil is, in his allegory, the 
 human intellect at its best and purest, which comes as 
 near heaven as unassisted humanity may ; for he is 
 the guide who only quits the Christian poet when he 
 is close to the gates of Paradise. 
 
 The “ Sortes Virgilianae ” were long in use, often 
 as a fashionable pastime, sometimes in graver earn¬ 
 est : the inquirer opened the volume at random, 
 and took for the answer of fate the first few lines 
 which caught his eye. In the times of the later 
 Boman emperors, they ranked among the most pop¬ 
 ular, and perhaps the least objectionable, of the many 
 superstitious practices which were then so prevalent. 
 The Emperor Severus was said to have been encour¬ 
 aged in his boyhood by the very words which had 
 such an effect on Octavia—“ Thou shalt be our Mar- 
 eellus ! ” And when subsequently he showed a taste 
 rather for elegant accomplishments than for military 
 renown, again the “ Sortes.” consulted for him by his 
 
188 
 
 THE JENEIB. 
 
 father, gave the well-known lines already quoted,* in 
 which the glory of the Koman is pronounced to he 
 that of the conqueror, not of the student or the artist. 
 The superstition held its ground, through the middle 
 ages, down to times very near our own. The story rests 
 upon no mean authority, that Charles I. once tried the 
 oracle with a startling result. He was in the Bodleian 
 Library while the Court lay in Oxford, and was there 
 shown a splendid edition of Yirgil. Lord Falkland 
 suggested to him sportively that he should try the 
 “ Sortes.” The lines upon which the king opened are 
 said to have been these, as they stand in Mr Coning- 
 ton’s version :— 
 
 “ Scourged by a savage enemy, 
 
 An exile from his son’s embrace, 
 
 So let him sue for aid, and see 
 His people slain before his face : 
 
 Or when to humbling peace at length 
 He stoops, be his or life or land, 
 
 But let him fall in manhood’s strength, 
 
 And welter tombless on the sand.” 
 
 It was a gloomy oracle; and Falkland, anxious to 
 remove the impression, tried his own fortune. He 
 lighted on Evander’s lament over his son Pallas :— 
 
 “ I knew the young blood’s maddening play, 
 
 The charm of battle’s first essay; 
 
 O valour blighted in the flower! 
 
 0 first mad drops of war’s full shower! ” 
 
 A few months afterwards Falkland fell at the battle 
 of Newbury, barely thirty-four years old. 
 
 * V. 124. 
 
CONCLUDING REMARKS. 
 
 189 
 
 There has always been a mystical school of classical 
 interpretation, who see in the iEneid, as in the Iliad 
 and Odyssey, a tissue of allegory from first to last. Not 
 content with identifying the Trojan chief with Augus¬ 
 tus, they found a double meaning in every character 
 and every legend in the poem. Bishop Warburton, 
 in his well-known ‘Divine Legation,’ expended a 
 great amount of learning and research to prove that in 
 the Descent to the Shades in the sixth book we have 
 a sketch, scarcely veiled, of the great Eleusinian 
 mysteries. Others saw in Dido the love-passion and 
 the fate of Cleopatra, Antony in Turnus, the flight 
 of Marius to the marshes in the person of Sinon, the 
 miserable end of Pompey in Priam— 
 
 “ The head shorn off, the trunk without a name.” 
 
 It is impossible to enjoy either Homer or Yirgil, if 
 their text is to be “ improved” at every step after this 
 sort. Augustus and Octavia looked to the poet for a 
 tale of the olden time, and he told it well. No doubt 
 he threw in graceful compliments to Pome and its 
 ruler; but to have to guess at some hidden meaning 
 all along would have been far too severe a tax on the 
 imperial audience, and would certainly not heighten 
 the enjoyment of modern readers. 
 
 One would be glad to know what was the view that 
 was really taken by that profligate court on the one 
 hand, and by the poet himself on the other, of the 
 theological machinery of the poem; those powerful 
 and passionate Genii who pull the wires of the human 
 puppets to gratify their own preferences and hatreds, 
 
190 
 
 THE JENEIU. 
 
 and are themselves the slaves of an awful Fate which 
 overrides them all. Wherever Justice had fled from 
 the earth, as the legend ran, in those pagan days, she 
 had not found refuge in heaven. The human virtues 
 which Virgil gives his heroes were no copies of any¬ 
 thing celestial. Such lessons as the “gods” taught 
 were chiefly perfidy and revenge. For men of intel¬ 
 lect and of a pure life—and such is credibly said to 
 have been Virgil’s—the only salvation lay in utter 
 unbelief of such a creed; or, at most, a stoical sub¬ 
 mission to that Unknown Fate which ruled all things 
 human and divine. But even when the forms and 
 creeds of religion had become a mockery, the rule of 
 right, however warped, was recognised—in fiction, if 
 not in fact: and Virgil, though for some reason he 
 declined to paint the true hero at full length, has 
 enabled us to pick out his component parts from hia 
 sketches of a dozen characters. 
 
 END OP VIRGIL. 
 
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