LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. Digitized by tine Internet Arciiive in 2010 with funding from The Library of Congress http://www.archive.org/details/historyofromulus01abbo HISTOHY OF E O M U L U 8 BY JACOB ABBOTT ^ (^ toiti) €nc|rat)ings fi: /O797 NEW YORK HARPER & BROTHERS, FRANKLIN SQUARE i\a,i \ it Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1852, by HARPER & BROTHERS, In the Clerk's OfBce for the Southern District of New York. Copyright, 1880, by Benjamin Vaughan Abbott, Austin Abbott, Lyman Abbott, and Edward Abbott. PREFACE In writing the series of historical narratives to v^hich the present work pertains, it has been the object of the author to furnish to the reading com- munity of this country an accurate and faithful account of the lives and actions of the several per- sonages that are made successively the subjects of the volumes, following precisely the story which has come down to us from ancient times. The writer has spared no pains to gain access in all cases to the original sources of information, and has confined himself strictly to them. The reader may, therefore, feel assured in perusing any one of these works, that the interest of it is in no degree indebted to the inven tion of the author. No incident, however trivial, is ever added to the original account, nor are ai.'y words even, in any case, attributed to a speaker without express authority. Whatever of interest, therefore, these stories may possess, is due solely to the facts themselves which are recorded in them, and to their being brought together in a plain, simple, and con- nected narrative. CONTENTS. CHA.PTBR TAQB I. CADMUS 1 '^ II, CADMUS'S LETTERS S6 III. THE STORY OF ^NEAS • • ^^ IV. THE DESTRUCTION OF TROY ^9 V. THE FLIGHT OF ^NEAS 103 VI. THE LANDING IN LATIUM 131 Vn. RHEA SILVIA 15' VIIL THE TWINS 1^* IX. THE FOUNDING OF ROME 202 X. ORGANIZATION 225 XL WIVES ' 248 Xri. THE SABINE WAK i . 270 Kill. laE CONCLUSION . 295 ENGRAVINGS. , PAGl 'THE HARPIES Fronthpiece. JUPITER AND EUROPA 28 MAP — JOURNEYINGS OF CADMUS 30 SYMBOLICAL •WRITING 37 SYMBOLICAL AND PHONETIC WRITING 44 HIEROGLYPHICS 56 MAP ORIGIN OF VENUS 61 ^NEAS DEFENDING THE BODY OF PANDARUS 68 THE TORTOISE 98 HELEN , 105 map wanderings of ^neas 119 map latium 134 Silvia's stag 145 rhea silvia iso faustulus and the twins 184 situation of rome 209 promising the bracelets 284 the death of romulus 305 The Illuminated Title-page, from a design by Gwilt Mapleson presents, in the border, an imitation of the Roman tossplatod par© ment, and in the vignette a view of ruins at Rome. ROMULUS CllAPTEK I. Cadmus. Dififerent kinds of greatness. SOME men are renowned in history on ac- count of the extraordinary powers and capacities which they exhibited in the course of their career, or the intrinsic greatness of the deeds which they performed. Others, without having really achieved any thing in itself very great or wonderful, have become widely known to mankind by reason of the vast consequences w^hich, in the subsequent course of events, resulted from their doings. Men of this latter class are conspicuous rather than great. From among thousands of otlier men equally exalted in character with them- 3 elves, they are brought out prominently to the notice of mankind only in consequence of the strong light reflected, by great events sub- 14 EoMtJLus. [B.C. 1500. Founders of cities. Rome. Interest in respect to its origin. eeqiiently occurring, back "upon the position where they happened to stand. The celebrity of Romulus seems to be of tliis latter kind. He founded a city. A thousand other men have founded cities ; and in doing their work have evinced perhaps as much courage, sagacity, and mental power as Romulus displayed. The city of Romulus, however, became in the end the queen and mistress of the world. It rose to so exalted a position of influence and power, and retained its ascendency so long, that now for twenty centuries every civilized nation in the western world have felt a strong interest in every thing pertaining to its history, and have been accus- tomed to look back with special curiosity to the circumstances of its origin. In conse- quence of this it has happened that though Romulus, in his actual day, performed no very great exploits, and enjoyed no pre-emi- nence above the thousand other half-savage chieftains of his class, whose names have been long forgotten, and very probably while lie lived never dreamed of any extended fame, yet so brilliant is the illumination which the subsequent events of history have shed upon his position and his doings, that his name and B.C. 1500.] Cadmus. 15 The story of iEneas. The Mediterranean sea. the incidents of liis life have been brought out very conspicuously to view, and attract very strongly the attention of mankind. The history of Rome is usually made to be- gin with the story of ^neas. In order that the reader may understand in what light that romantic tale is to be regarded, it is necessary to premise some statements in respect to the general condition of society in ancient days, and to the nature of the strange narrations, circulated in those early periods among man- kind, out of which in later ages, when the art of writing came to be introduced, learned men compiled and recorded what they termed history. The countries which formed the shores of the Mediterranean sea were as verdant and beautiful, in those ancient days, and perhaps as fruitful and as densely populated as in modern times. The same Italy and Greece were there then as now. There were the same blue and beautiful seas, the same mountains, the same picturesque and enchanting shores, the same smiling valleys, and the same serene and genial sky. The level lands were tilled industriously by a rural population corre 16 K OMUL us. [B.C. 1500, Italy and Greece in ancient times, and now. sponding in all essential points of character with the peasantry of modern times ; and shepherds and herdsmen, then as now, hunted the wild beasts, and watched their flocks and herds, on the declivities of the mountains. In a word, the appearance of the face of nature, and the performance of the great function of the social state, namely, the procuring of food and clothing for man by the artificial cultiva • tion of animal and vegetable life, were sub- stantially the same on the shores of tlie Medi- terranean two thousand years ago as now. Even the plants and the animals themselves which the ancient inhabitants reared, have undergone no essential change. Their sheep and oxen and horses were the same as ours. So were their grapes, their apples, and their corn. If, however, we leave the humbler classes and occupations of society, and turn our at- tention to those which represent the refine- ment, the cultivation, and the power, of tlie two respective periods, we shall find that al- most all analogy fails. There v/as an aris- tocracy then as now, ruling over the widely- extended communities of peaceful agricultu- ralists and herdsmen, but the members of it IJ.C. 1500.J Cadmus. 17 Ancient chieftains. Their modes of life. were entirely different in their character, their tastes, their ideas, and their occupations from the classes which exercise the preroga- tives of government in Em'ope in modern times. The nobles then were military chief- tains, living in 'camps or in walled cities, which they built foi the accommodation of them- selves and tho followers. These chieftains were not barbadians. They were in a certain sense cultivated and refined. They gathered around them in their camps and in their courts orators, poets, statesmen, and officers of every grade, who seem to have possessed the same energy, genius, taste, and in some respects the same scientific skill, which have in all ages and in every clime characterized the upper classes of the Caucasian race. They carried all the arts which were necessary for their purposes and plans to high perfection, and in the invention of tales, ballads and poems, to be recited at their entertainments and feasts, they evinced the most admirable taste and skill ; — a taste and skill which, as they resulted not from the operation and influence of arti- ficial rules, but from the unerring instinct of genius, have never been surpassed. In fact, the poetical inventions of those early days, far B 18 EoMULUs. [B.C. 1500, Religious ideaa of the ancient Greeks and Romans. from having been produced in conformity with rules, were entirely precedent to rules, in the order of time. Kules were formed from them ; for they at length became established themselves in the estimation of mankind, aa models, and on their authority as models, the whole theory of rhetorical and poetical beauty now mainly reposes. The people of those days formed no idea of a spiritual world, or of a spiritual divinity. They however imagined, that heroes of former days still continued to live and to reign in certain semi-heavenly regions among the sum- mits of their blue and beautiful mountains, and that they were invested there with attri- butes in some respects divine. In addition to these divinities, the fertile fancy of those ancient times filled the earth, the air, the sea, and the sky with imaginary beings, all most graceful and beautiful in their forms, and poetical in their functions, — and made them the subjects, too, of innumerable legends ani tales, as graceful, poetical, and beautiful as themselves. Every grove, and fountain, and river, — every lofty summit among the moun- tains, and every rock and promontory along Uie shores of the sea, — every cave, every val B.C. 1500.] Cadmus. lO' Ancient studies of nature. Purpose of tnein. ley, every water-fall, had its imaginary occu- pant, — the genius of the spot ; so that every natural object which attracted public notice at all, was the subject of some picturesque and romantic story. In a word, nature was not exj^lored then as now, for the purpose of as- certaining and recording cold and scientific realities, — but to be admired, and embellish- ed, and animated ; — and to be peopled, every- where, with exquisitely beautiful, though ima- ginary and supernatural, life and action. What the genius of imagination and ro- mance did thus in ancient times with the scenery of nature, it did also on the field of history. Men explored that field not at all to learn sober and actual realities, but to find something that they might embellish and adorn, and animate with supernatural and marvelous life. What the sober realities might have actually been, was of no interest or moment to them whatever. There were no scholars then as now, living in the midst of libraries, and finding constant employment, and a never-ending pleasure, in researches for the simple investigation of the truth. There was in fact no retirement, no seclusion, no study. Every thing except what related to '20 KoMULUs. [B.C. 1500. History. Ancient poems and tales. the mere daily toil of tilling tlie ground bore direct relation to military expeditions, spec- tacles and parades ; and the only field for the exercise of that kind of intellectual ability which is employed in modern times in inves- tigating and recording historic truth, was the invention and recitation of poems, dramas and tales, to amuse great military audiences in camps or public gatherings, convened to wit- ness shows or games, or to celebrate great re- lio-ious festivals. Of course under such cir- cumstances there would be no interest felt in truth as truth. Eomance and fable would be far more serviceable for such ends than re- ality. Still it is obvious that such tales as were in- vented to amuse for the purposes w^e have de Bcribed, w^ould have a deeper interest for ihose who listened to them, if founded in some measure upon fact, and connected in respect to the scene of their occurrence, with real localities. A prince and his court sitting at their tables in the palace or the tent, at the close of a feast, would listen with greater in- terest to a story that purported to be an ac- count of the deeds and the marvelous adven- tures of their ov/n ancestors, than to one thai B.C. 1500.] Cadmus. 21 How far founded in fact. Cadmus. was wliollj and avowedly imaginary. The inventors of these tales would of conrse gen- erally choose such subjects, and their narra- tions would generally consist therefore rather of embellishments of actual transactions, than of inventions wholly original. Their heroes were consequently real men ; the principal actions ascribed to them were real actions, and the places referred to were real localities. Thus there was a semblance of truth and real- ity in all these tales which added greatly to tlie interest of them ; while there were no means of ascertaining the real truth, and thus spoiling the story by making the falsehood or improbability of it evident and glaring. "We cannot well have a better illustration of these principles than is afforded by the story of Cadmus, an adventurer who was said to have brought the knowledge of alphabetic writing into Greece from some countries farther eastward. In modern times there is a very strong interest felt in ascertaining the exact truth on this subject. The art of writ- ing w^ith al^^habetic characters was so great an invention, and it has exerted so vast an in- iluence on the condition and progress of man- Idnd since it was introduced, that a vei-y 22 KoMULus. [B.C. 1500 luterest felt in resjtect to the origin of writing. strong interest is now felt in every thing that can be ascertained as actually fact, in respect to its origin. If it were possible now to de- termine under what circumstances the method of representing the elements of sound by v/ritten characters was first devised, to dis- cover who it was that first conceived the idea, and what led him to make the attempt, what difiiculties he encountered, to v/hat purposes he first applied his invention, and to what re- sults it led, the whole world would take a very strong interest in the revelation. The essential point, however, to be observed, is that it is the real truth in respect to the sub- ject that the world are now interested in knowing. Were a romance writer to invent a tale in respect to the origin of writing, how- ever ingenious and entertaining it might be in its details, it would excite in the learned world at the present day no interest whatever. There is in fact no account at present ex- isting in respect to the actual origin of alp^ia- betic characters, though there is an account of the circumstances under which the art was brought into Europe from Asia, where it seems to have been originally invented. We v/ill give the facts, first in their simple form, B.C. 1500.] Cadmus. 23 True story of Cadmus. His father Agenor Europa. and then the narrative in the form in which it was related in ancient times, as embellished hy the ancient story-tellers. The facts then, as now generally under stood and believed, are, that there was a cer- tain king in some country in Africa, named Agenor, Vv^ho lived about 1500 years before Christ. lie had a daughter named Europa, and several sons. Among his sons was one named Cadmus. Europa was a beautiful gir], and after a time a wandering adventurer from some part of the northern shores of the Med- iterranean sea, came into Africa, and was so much pleased witli her that he resolved if iDossible, to obtain her for his wife. He did not dare to make proposals openly, and he accordingly disguised himself and mingled with the servants upon Agenor's farm. In this disguise he succeeded in making acquaint- ance with Europa, and finally persuaded her to elope with him. The pair accordingly fled, and crossing the Mediterranean they went to Crete, an island near the northern shores of the sea, and there they lived together. The father, when he found that his daugh- ter had deceived him and gone away, waa very indignant, and sent Cadmus and hia U KoMULTJS. [B.C. 1500. Telephassa. The pursuit of Europa. Fruitless result. brothers in pursuit of her. The mother of Eiiroj^a, whose name was Telephassa, though less indignant perhaps than the father, waa overwhelmed with grief at the loss of her child, and determined to accompany her sons in the search. She accordingly took leave of her husband and of her native land, and set out with Cadmus and her other sons on the long journey in search of her lost child. Agenor charged his sons never to come home again unless they brought Europa with them. Cadmus, with his mother and brothers, traveled slowly toward the northward, along the eastern shores of the Mediterranean sea, inquiring everywhere for the fugitive. They passed through Syria and Phenicia, into Asia Minor, and from Asia Minor into Greece. At length Telephassa, worn down, perhaps, by fatigue, disappointment, and grief, died. Cadmus and his brothers soon after became discouraged ; and at last, weary with their wanderings, and prevented by their father's injunction from returning without Europa, they determined to settle in Greece. In at- tempting to establish themselves there, how- ever, they became involved in various con- flicts, first with wild beasts, and afterward B.C. 1500.] Cadmus. 25 Cadmus settles ia Greece. Thebes. Arts introduced by him. with men, the natives of the land, who seemed to spring up, as it were, from the ground, to oppose them. They contrived, however, at length, by fomenting quarrels among their enemies, and taking sides with one party Bgainst the rest, to get a permanent footing in Greece, and Cadmus finally founded a city there, which he called Thebes. In establishing the institutions and govern- ment of Thebes, and in arranging the organi- zation of the people into a social state, Cadmus introduced among them several arts, which, in that part of the country, had been before miknown. One of these arts was the use of copper, which metal he taught his new sub • jects to procure from the ore obtained in mines. There were several others ; but the most important of all was that he taught them sixteen letters representing elementary voca' sounds, by means of which inscriptions ol words could be carved upon monuments, oi 'a2">on tablets of metal or of stone. It is not supposed that the idea of rep- 'esenting the elements of vocal sounds by characters originated with Cadmus, or that he invented the characters himself. He brought them with him undoubtedly, but 26 Romulus. [B.C. 1500. The ancient legend of Cadmus. Jupiter. whether from Egypt or Phenicia, can not now be known. Such are the facts of the case, as now gen - erally understood and believed! Let us now compare this simple narration with the ro- mantic tale which the early story-tellers made from it. The legend, as they relate it, is as follows. Jupiter was a prince born and bred among the summits of Mount Ida, in Crete. His father's name was Saturn. Saturn had made an agreement that he would cause all his sons to be slain, as soon as they were born. This was to appease his brother, who was his rival, and who consented that Saturn should con- tinue to reign only on that condition. Jupiter's mother, however, was very un- willing that her boys should be thus cruelly put to death, and she contrived to conceal three of them, and save them. Tlie three thus preserved were brought up among tlie solitudes of tlie mountains, w^atched and at- tended by nymphs, and nursed by a goat. After they grew up, they engaged from time to time in various wars, and met with various wonderfu I adventures, until at length Jupiter, tlie oldest of them, succeeded, by means of B.C. 1500.] Cadmus. 27 Alventures of Jupiter. Wis love for Europa, tliunderbolts which he caused to be forged for his use, in vast subterranean cayems be- neath Mount Etna and Mount Yesuvius, con- quered all his enemies, and became universal king. He, however, divided his empire be- tween himself and his brothers, giving to them respectively the command of the sea and of the subterranean regions, wdiile he reserved the earth and the heavenly regions for himself. He established his usual abode among the mountains of Northern Greece, but he often made excursions to and fro upon the earth, appearing in various disguises, and meeting with a grea-t number of strange and marvel- ous adventures. In the course of these wan- derings he found his way at one time into Egypt, and to the dominions of Agenor, — and there he saw Agenor's beautiful daughter, Europa. He immediately determined to make her his bride ; and to secure this object he assumed the form of a very finely shaped and beautiful bull, and in this guise joined him- self to Agenor's herds of cattle. Europa soon saw him there. She was much pleased with the beauty of his form, and finding him gentle and kind in disposition, she approached 28 His elopement. E/ OMUL US. [B.C. 1500. Jupiter and Europa in Crete. him, patted his glossy neck and sides, and in other similar ways gratified the prince hy marks of her admiration and pleasure. She Jupiter and Europa. was at length induced hy some secret and magical influence which the prince exerted over her, to mount upon his hack, and allow herself to he home away. The hull ran with his hurden to the shore, and plunged into the waves. He swam across the sea to Crete,^ See Map, p. 30. B.C. 1500.] Cadmus. iO I'he expedition of Cadmua. His various wanderings. and there, resuming his proper form, lie made the princess his bride. Agenor and Telephassa, when they found that their daughter was gone, were in great distress, and Agenor immediately determined to send his sons on an expedition in pursuit of her. The names of his sons were Cadmus, Phoenix, Cylix, Thasus, and Phineus. Cad- mus, as the oldest son, was to be the director of the expedition. Telephassa, the mother, resolved to accompany them, so overwhelmed was she with affliction at the loss of her daughter. Agenor himself was almost equally oppressed with the calamity which had over- whelmed them, and he charged his sons never to come home again until they could bring Europa with them. Telephassa and her sons wandered for a time in the countries east of the Mediterra- nean sea, without being able to obtain any tidings of the fugitive. At length they passed mto Asia Minor, and from Asia Minor into Thrace, a country lying north of the ^gean Sea. Finding no traces of their sister in any of these countries, the sons of Agenor became discouraged, and resolved to make no farther search ; and Telephassa, exhausted with anxi- 80 Romulus. [B.C. 1500. Death of Telephassa. Visit to the oracle at Delphi. ety and fatigue, and now overwhelmed with the thought that all hope must he finally abandoned, sank down and died. The JouRNEYiNGs OF Cadmus. Cadmus and his brothers were much af- fected at their mother's death. They made arrangements for her burial, in a manner be- fitting her high rank and station, and when the funeral solemnities had been perforned, Cadmus repaired to the oracle at Delphi, which was situated in the northern part of B.C. 1500.J Cadmus. 31 The directions of the oracle. Cadmus finds his guide. Greece, not very far from Tlirace, in order tliat lie might inquire there whether there was any thing more that he conlcl do to re- cover his lost sister, and if so to learn what course he was to j)ursue. The oracle replied to ]iim that he must search for his sister no more, but instead of it turn his attention wholly to the work of establishing a home and a king- dom for himself, in Greece. To this end he was to travel on in a direction indicated^ until he met with a cow of a certain kind, described by the oracle, and then to follow the c.w wherever she might lead the way, until at length, becoming fatigued, she should stop and lie down. Upon the spot where the cow should lie down he was to build a city and make it his capital. Cadmus obeyed these directions of the ora- cle. He left Delphi and went on, attended, as he had been in all his wanderings, by a troop of companions and followers, until at length in the herds of one of the people of the country, named Pelagon, he found a cow answering to the description of the oracle Taking this cow for his guide, he follov/ed wherever she led the way. She conducted him toward the southward and eastward foi 32 EoMULUs. [B.C. 1500. rhe place for his dty determined. The fountain of Dirce. thirty or forty miles, and at length wearied, apparently, by her long journey, she lay down. Cadmus knew immediately that tliia was the spot where his city was to stand. He began immediately to make arrange- ments for the building of the city, but he de- termined first to offer the cow that had been his divinely appointed guide to the spot, as a sacrifice to Minerva, whom he always consid- ered as his guardian goddess. Near the spot where the cow lay down there was a small stream which issued from a foun- tain not far distant, called the fountain of Dirce. Cadmus sent some of nis men to tiie place to obtain some water which it was ne- cessary to use in the ceremonies of the sacri- fice. It happened, however, that this fountain was a sacred one, having been consecrated to Mars, — and there was a great dragon, a son of Mars, stationed there to guard it. The men whom Cadmus sent did not return, and accordingly Cadmus himself, after waiting a suitable time, proceeded to the spot to as- certain the cause of the delay. He found that the dragon had killed his men, and at the time when he arrived at the spot, the mon- ster was greedily devouring the bodies. Cad- B.C. 1500.] Cadmus. 33 The dragon's teeth. Thebea built. Cadmia. miis immediately attacked the dragon and slew him, and then tore his teeth out cf his head, as trophies of his victory. Minerva had assisted Cadmus in this combat, and when it was ended she directed him to plant the teeth of the dragon in the ground. Cadmus did so, and immediately a host of armed men sprung up from the place where he had planted them. Cadmus threw a stone among these armed men, when they immediately began to con- tend together in a desperate conflict, until at length all but Ryq of them were slain. These -G.Ye then joined themselves to Cadmus, and helped him to build his city. He went on very successfully after this. The city which ho built was Thebes, which afterward became greatly celebrated. The citadel which he erected within, he called, from his own name, Cadmia. Such were the legends which were related in ancient poems and tales ; and it is obvious ihat such narratives must have been composed ':o entertain groups of listeners whose main desire was to be excited and amused, and not to be instructed. The stories were believed, no doubt, and the feith which the hearer felt in their truth added of course very greatly to O 34 RoMULTjs. [B.C. 1500. Ancient ideas of probability. Belief in supernatural tales. the interest whicli they awakened in "his mind. The stories are amusing to us ; but it is im- possible for us to share in the deep and sol- emn emotion with which the ancient audiences listened to them, for we have not the power, as they had, of believing them. Such tales related in respect to the great actors on the stage in modern times, would awaken no in- terest, for there is too general a diffusion both cf historical and philosophical knowledge to render it possible for any one to suppose them to be true. But those for whom the story of Europa was invented, had no means of knov<" ing hov/ wide t]ie Mediterranean sea mighi be, and whether a bull might not swim acros? it. They did not know but that Mars might have a dragon for a son, and that the teeth of such a dragon might not, when sown in the ground, spring up in the form of a troop of armed men. They listened therefore to the tale with an interest all the more earnest and solemn on account of the marvelousness of the recital. They repeated it word for word to one another, around their camp-fires, at their teasts, in their journeyings, — and when watch- ing their flocks at midnight, among the soli- tudes of the mountains. Thus the tales wero B.C.1500.] Cadmus. 35 Final recording of the ancient tales. handed down from generation to generation, until at length the use of the letters of Cad- mus became so far facilitated, that continuous narrations could be expressed bj means of them ; and then they were put permanently upon record in many forms, and were thus transmitted without any farther change to the present age. 30 KoMTJLus. [L\a 1600. Two modes of writing. Symbols. Exampte. ChapteeII. Cadmtts's Letters. nflHERE are two modes essentially distinct -*- from eacli oilier, by whicli ideas may be communicated tbroiigli the medium of inscrip- tions addressed to the eye. These two modes are, first, by synnbolical^ and secondly, by •phonetiG characters. Each of these two sys- tems assumes, in fact, within itself, quite a variety of distinct forms, though it is only the general characteristics which distinguish the two great classes from each other, that we shall have occasion particularly to notice here. Symbolical writing consists of characters intended severally to denote ideas or things^ and not words. A good example of true symbolical writing is to be found in a cer- tain figure often employed among the archi- tectural decorations of churches, as an em- blem of the Deity. It consists of a triangle B.C. 1500.] Cadmus's Letters. 37 Example. Symbol of the Deity. Ancient Symbols. representing the Trinity with the figure of an eye in the middle of it. The eye is intended to denote the divine omniscience. Such a character as this, is ohviously the symbol of an idea, not the representative of a word. It may be read Jehovah, or God, or the Deity, or by any other word or phrase by which men are accustomed to denote the Supreme Being. It represents, in fine, the idea, and not any particular word by which the idea is ex- pressed. The first attempts of men to preserve rec- ords of facts by means of inscriptions, have, in all ages, and among all nations, been of this character. At first, the inscriptions so made were strictly pictures, in which the whole scene intended to be commemorated was represented, in rude carvings. In process of time substitutions and abridgments were adopted in lieu of fuU representations, and these grew at length into a system of hiero- glyphical characters, some natural, and others more or less arbitrary, but all denoting ideas or things, and not the sounds of words. These 38 K OMUL us. [B.C. 1500. The Egyptian hieroglyphics phonetic. NaturU symbols. characters are of the kind usually tmderstoocl by the word hieroglyphics ; though that word can not now with strict accuracy be applied a a a distinctive appellation, since it has been as- certained in modern times that a large portion of the Egyptian hieroglyphics are of such a nature as brings them within the second of the two classes which we are here describing ; that is, the several delineations represent the sounds and syllables of words, instead of being symbols of ideas or things. It happened that in some cases in this spe- cies of writing, as used in ancient times, the characters which were employed presented in their form some natural resemblance to the thing signified, and in other cases they were wholly arbitrary. Thus, the figure of a scep- ter denoted a king, that of a lion, strength ; and two warriors, one with a shield, and the -other advancing toward the first with a bow and arrow, represented a battle. We use in fact a symbol similar to the last-mentioned •one at the present day, upon maps, where we often see a character formed by two swords crossed,, employed to represent a battle. The ancient Mexicans had a mode of writ- mg which seems to have been symbolical in B.C. 1500.J Oadmus's Lettees. 39 Mexican record. Arbitrary symbols, its character, and their characters had, many of them at least, a natural signification. The different cities and towns were represented by drawings of such simple objects as were char- acteristic of them respectively ; as a plant, a tree, an article of manufacture, or any other object by which the place in question was most easily and naturally to be distinguished from other places. In one of their inscrip- tions, for example, there was a character rep- resenting a king, and before it four heads. Each of the heads was accompanied by the symbol of the capital of a province, as above described. The meaning of the whole inscrip- tion was that in a certain tumult or insurrec- tion ihe king caused the governors of the four cities to be beheaded. But though, in this symbolical mode of writing, a great many ideas and events could be represented thus, by means of signs or symbols having a greater or less resemblance to the thing signified, yet in many cases the characters used were wholly arbitrary. They were in this respect like the character which we use to denote dolla/rs^ as a prefix to a num- ber expressing money ; for this character is a sort of symbol, that is, it represents a thing 40 Romulus. [B.C. 1500. Advantages of the symbolical mode of writing. ratlier than a word. Our numerals, too, 1, 2, 3, &c., are in some respects of the character of symbols. That is, they stand directly for the numbers themselves, and not for the sounds of the words by which the numbers are expressed. Hence, although the people of different European nations understand them all alike, they read them, in words, very dif- ferently. The Englishman reads them by one set of words, the Spaniard by another, and the German and the Italian by others still. The symbolical mode of writing possesses some advantages which must not be over- looked. It speaks directly to the eye, and is m.ore full of meaning than the Phonetic method, though the meaning is necessarily more vague and indistinct, in some respects, while it is less so in others. For example, in an advertising newspaper, the simple fig- ure of a house, or of a ship, or of a loco- motive engine, at the head of an advertise- ment, is a sort of hieroglyphic, which says much more plainly and distinctly, and in much shorter time, than any combination of letters could do, that what follows it is an advertisement relating to a house, or a vessel, or a railroad. In the same manner, the au- B.C. 1500.] Cadmus's Letters. '41 The meaning of them more easily understood. cient representations on moniiments and col- umns would communicate, perhaps more rap* i ily and readily to the passer-by, an idea of the battles, the sieges, the marches, and the other great exploits of the monarchs whose history they were intended to record, than an inscription in words would have done. Another advantage of the symbolical rep- resentations as used in ancient times, was that their meaning could be more readily explained, and would be more easily remem- bered, and so explained again, than written words. To learn to read literal writing in any language, is a work of very great labor. It is, in fact, generally found that it must be commenced early in life, or it can not be ac- complished at all. An inscription, therefore, in words, on a Mexican monument, that a certain king suppressed an insurrection, and beheaded the governors of four of his prov- inces, would be wholly blind and unintelli- gible to the mass of the population of such a country; and if the learned sculptor who inscribed it, were to attempt to explain it to \hem, letter by letter, they would forget the beginning of the lesson before reaching the end of it, — and could never be expected to 42 Romulus. [B.C. 1500. Comparison of the two systema. attempt extending the knowledge by making known the interpretation which they had re- ceived to others in their turn. But the royal scepter, with the four heads before it, each of the heads accompanied by the appropriate symbol of the city to which the possessor of it belonged, formed a symbolical congeries which expressed its meaning at once, and very plainly, to the eye. The most ignorant and uncultivated could readily understand it. Once understanding it, too, they could never easily forget it ; and they could, without any difficulty, explain it fully to others as ignorant and uncultivated as themselves. It might seem, at first view, that a symbol- ical mode of writing must be more simple in its character than the system now in use, in- asmuch as by that plan each idea or object would be expressed by one character alone, w^hereas, by our mode of writing, several characters, sometimes as many as eight or ten, are required to express a word, which word, after all, represents only one single object or idea. But notwithstanding this ap- parent simplicity, the system of symbolical writing proved to be, when extensively em- ployed, extremely complicated and intricato. B.0. 1500.] Cadmus's Leiters. 43 Further comparison of the two systemfl. It is true that each idea required but one character, but the number of ideas and ob- jects, and of words expressive of their rela- tions to one another, is so vast, that the sys- tem of representing them by independent symbols, soon lost itself in an endless intricacy of detail. Then, besides, — notwithstanding what has been said of the facility with which symbolical inscriptions could be interpreted, — they were, after all, extremely difficult to be understood without interpretation. An inscription once explained, the explanation was easily understood and remembered ; but it was very difficult to understand one in- tended to express any new communication. The system was, therefore, well adapted to commemorate what was already known, but was of little service as a mode of communi- ^ eating knowledge anew. We come now to consider the second grand class of written characters, namely, the j[>]io-- netie^ the class which Cadmus introduced into" Greece, and the one almost universally adopt- ed among all the European nations at the present day. It is called Phonetic, from a Greek word denoting sounds because the characters which are used do not denote 44 Romulus. [B.C. 1500. Two modes of representing the idea of a battle. directly the thing itself which is signified, but the sounds made in speaking the word which signifies it. Take, for in- stance, the two modes of representing a conflict be- tween two contending ar- mies, one by the symbolic delineation of two swords crossed, and the other by the phonetic delineation of R/MTTri! iF ^^® letters of the word bat- tle. They are both inscrip- tions. The beginning of the first represents the handle of the sword, a part, as it were, of the thing signified. The beginning of the second, the letter Z>, repre- sents the pressing of the lips together, by which we commence pronouncing the word. Thus the one mode is symbolical^ and the other phonetic. On considering the two methods, as exem- plified in this simple instance, we shall ob- serve that what has already been pointed out as characteristic of the two modes is here seen to be true. The idea is conveyed in the sym- bolical mode by one character, while by the phonetic it requires no less than six. This B.C. 1500.] Oadmus's Letters. 45 Great ad"antages of the phonetic mode of writing. seems at first view to indicate a great advan • tage possessed by tlie symbolical system. But on reflection tbis advantage is found en- tirely to disappear. For tbe symbolical char- acter, though it is only one, will answer for only the single idea which it denotes. Neither itself nor any of its elements will aid us in forming a s}anbol for any other idea ; and as the ideas, objects, and relations which it is necessary to be able to express, in order to make free and full communications in any language, are from fifty to a hundred thou- sand, — the step which we have taken, though very simple in itself, is the beginning of a course which must lead to the most endless intricacy and complication. Whereas in the six phonetic characters of the word battle, v/e have elements which can be used again and again, in the expression of thousands of other ideas. In fact, as the phonetic characters w^hich are found necessary in most languages arc only about twenty-four, we have in that dingle word accomplished one quarter of tho whole task, so far as the delineation of char- acters is concerned, that is necessary for ex- ■Dressing by writing any possible combination of ideas which human language can convey. 4:G Romulus. [B.C. 1500. Uncertainty of the origin of phonetic writing. At what time and in what manner the tran- sition was made among the ancient nations from the symbolic to the phonetic mode of writing, is not now known. "VYheu in the flourishing periods of the Grecian and Roman states, learned men explored the literary records of the various nations of the East, writings were found in all, which were ex- pressed in phonetic characters, and the alpha- bets of these characters were found to be so analogous to each other, in the names and order, and in some respects in the forms, of the letters, as to indicate strongly something like community of origin. All the attempts, however, which have been made to ascertain the origin of the system, have wholly failed, and no account of them goes farther back than to the time when Cadmus brought them from Phenicia or Egypt into Greece. The letters which Cadmus brought were in number sixteen. The following table presents a view of his alphabet, presenting in the sev- eral columns, the letters themselves as subse- quently written in Greece, the Greek names given to them, and their power as represented by the letters now in use. The forms, it wir be seen, have been but little changed. B.C. 1500.] Cadmus's Letters. 47 Cadmus's alphabet. Difficulties attending the introduction of IL Greek letters. Greek names. English represontatirei. A Alpha A B Beta B r Gamma G J Delta D E Epsilon E I Iota I A Lamda L M Mu M N Nu N micron n Pi P p Rho R ^ Sigma S T Tau T r Upsilon U The phonetic alphabet of Cadmus, thougti 80 vastly superior to any system of symbolical hieroglyphics, for all purposes where any thing like verbal accuracy was desired, was still very slow in coming into general use. It was of course, at first, very difficult to write it, and very diflicult to read it when written. There was a very great practical obstacle, too, in the way of its general introduction, in the v^ant of any suitable materials for writing. To cut letters with a chisel and a mallet upon 48 Romulus. [B.C. 1500, Different modes of writing. fi surface of marble is a very slow and toil- some process. To diminisli this labor the an- cients contrived tables of brass, copper, lead, find sometimes of wood, and cut the inscrip- tions upon them by the use of various tools and implements. Still it is obvious, that by such methods as these the art of writing could only be used to an extremely limited extent, such as for brief inscriptions in registers and upon monuments, where a very few words would express all that it was necessary to re- cord. In process of time, however, the plan of painting the letters by means of a black dye upon a smooth surface, w^as introduced. The surface employed to receive these inscriptions was, at first, the skin of some animal prepared for this purpose, and the dye used for ink, was a colored liquid obtained from a certain fish. This method of writing, though in some respects more convenient than the others, was still slow, and the materials were expensive ; and it was a long time before the new art was employed for any thing like continuous com- position. Cadmus is supposed to have come into Greece about the year 1550 before Christ; and it was not until about 650 before Christ, B.C. 1500] (Jadmtts's Letters. 49 The art of writing at first very little used. — that is, nearly nine hundred years later, that the art of writing was resorted to in Greece to record laws. The evidences that writing was very little used in any way during this long period of nine hundred years, are furnished in various allusions contained in poems and narratives that were composed during those times, and committed to writing afterward. In the poems of Homer, for instance, there is no al- lusion, from the beginning to the end, to any monument or tomb containing any inscription whatever ; although many occasions occur in which such inscriptions would have been made, if the events described were real, and the art of writing had been generally known, or would have been imagined to be made, if the narratives were invented. In one case a ship-master takes a cargo on board, and he is represented as having to remember all the articles, instead of making a record of them. Another case still more striking is adduced. In the course of the contest around the walls of Troy, the Grecian leaders are described at one time as drawing lots to determine which of them should fight a certain Trojan cham- pion. The lots were prepared, being mado D 50 EoMULus. [B.C. 150D. Proofs of this Story of the lots. of some substance that could be marked, and when ready, were distributed to the several leaders. Each one of the leaders then marked his lot in some way, taking care to remembei what character he had made upon it. The lots were then all put into a helmet, and the helmet was given to a herald, who was to shake it about in such a manner, if possible, as to throw out one of the lots and leave the others in. The leader whose lot it was that should be thus shaken out, was to be consid- ered as the one designated by the decision, to fight the Trojan champion. J^ow, in executing this plan, the herald, when he had shaken out a lot, and had taken it up from the ground, is represented, in the narrative, as not knowing whose it was, and as carrying it around, accordingly^, to all the different leaders, to find the one who could recognize it as his own. A certain chief named Ajax recognized it, and in this way he was designated for the combat. Now it is Bupposed, that if these men had been able to write, that they would have inscribed theii own names upon the lots, instead of marking them with unmeaning characters. And even if they werp not practiced writers themselves^ B.C. 1500.] Oadmus's Letters. 51 Other instances The invention of papyrus. some secretary or scribe would have been called u]DorL to act for tliem on such an occa- sion as thisj if tlie art of writing bad been at that time so generally known as to be custom- arily employed on public occasions. From these and similar indications which are found, on a careful examination, in the Homeric poems, learned men have concluded that they were composed and repeated orally, at a pe- riod of the world when the art of writing was very little known, and that they were handed down from generation to generation, through the memory of those who repeated them, un- til at last the art of writing became estab- lished among mankind, when they were at length put permanently upon record. It seems that writins; was not much em- ployed for any of the ordinary and private I'Urposes of life by the people of Greece until the article called papyrus was introduced among them. This took place about the year 600 before Christ, when laws began first to be written. Papyrus, like the art of writing upon it, came originally from Egypt. It was obtained from a tree which it seems grew only in that country. The tree flourished in tho low lands along the margin of the I^ile. It 52 E OMUL ITS. [B.C. 1500. Mode of manufacturing papyrus. Volumeb. grew to the height of about ten feet. The paper obtained from it was formed from a sort of inner bark, which consisted of thin sheets or pellicles growing around the wood. The paper was manufactured in the following manner. A sheet of the thin bark as taken from the tree, was laid flat upon a board, and then a cross layer was laid over it, the mate- rials having been previously moistened with water made slightly glutinous. The sheet thus formed was pressed and dried in the sun. The placing of two layers of the bark in this manner across each other was intended to strengthen the texture of the sheet, for the fibers, it was found, were very easily separated and torn so long as they lay wholly in one direction. The sheet when dry was finished by smoothing the surface, and prepared to re- ceive inscriptions made by means of a pen fashioned from a reed or a quill. In forming the papyrus into books it was customary to use a long sheet or web of it, and roll it upon a stick, as is the custom in respect to maps at the present day. The writing was in columns, each of which formed a sort of page, the reader holding the ends of the roll in his two hands, and reading at the part which B.C. 1500.] Cadmus's Letters. 53 Mode of using ancient books. Ink. was open between them. Of course, as liv advanced, he continually unrolled on one side, and rolled up upon the other. Eolls of parch- ment were often made in the same manner. The term volume used in respect to modern books, had its origin in this ancient practice of writing upon long rolls. The modern prac- tice is certainly much to be preferred, though the ancient one was far less inconvenient than might at first be supposed. The long sheet was rolled upon a wooden billet, which gave to the volume a certain firmness and solidity, and afibrded it great protection. The ends of this roller 23rojected beyond the edges of the sheet, and were terminated in knobs or bosses, which guarded in some meas- ure the edges of the papyrus or of the parch- ment. The whole volume was also inclosed in a parchment case, on the outside of which the title of the work was conspicuously re- corded. Many of these ancient rolls havo been found at ITerculaneum. For ink, various colored liquids were used, generally black, but sometimes red and some- times green. The black ink was sometimes manufactured from a species of lampblack or ivorv black, such as is often used in modern 54 EoMULus. [B.C. 16i>0 Ink found at Herculaneum. times for painting. Some specimens of tha inkstands whicli were used in ancient times Lave been found at Herculaneum, and one of them contained ink, whicli though too thick to flow readily from the pen, it was still pos* Bible to write with. It was of about the con- sistence of oil. These rolls of papyrus and parchment, bow- ever, were only used for important writings which it was intended permanently to pre- serve. For ordinary occasions tablets of wax and other similar materials were used, upon which the writer traced the characters with the point of a steel instrument called a style. The head of the style was smooth and roimded, so that a,ny words which the writer wished to erase might be obliterated by smoothing over again, with it, the wax on whicli they had been written. Such is a brief history of the rise and pro- gress of the art of writing in the States of Greece. Whether the phonetic j)rincipl() which Cadmus introduced was brought origi- nally from Egypt, or from the counti-ies on the eastern shore of the Mediterranean sea, can not now be ascertained. It has generally been supposed among mankind, at least until B.C. 1500.] Cadmus's Letters. 55 Recent discoveries in respect to the Egyptian hieroglyphics. within a recent period, tliat the art of phonetic wi-iting did not originate in Egypt, for the inscriptions on all the ancient monuments in that conntry are of snch a character that it lias always been snpposed that they were symbolical characters altogether, and that no traces of any phonetic writing existed in that Land. Within the present century, however, the discovery has been made that a large portion of these hieroglyphics are phonetic in their character ; and that the learned world in attemj)ting for so many centuries, in vain, to affix symbolical meanings to them, had been altogether upon the wrong track. The delin- eations, though they consist almost wholly of the forms of plants and animals, and of other natural and artificial objects, are not symbol- ical representations of ideas, but letters, rep- resenting sounds and words. They are thus precisely similar, in principle, to the letters of Cadmus, though wholly different from them in form. To enable the reader to obtain a clearer idea of the nature of this discovery, we give on the adjoining page some specimens of Egyptian inscriptions found in various parts of the country, and which are interpreted to 56 Romulus. [B.C. 1500. Specimen of Egyptian hieroglypliics. KEY D c m a it i a a, o A A t r A B.C. 1500.] Cadmus's Letters. 57 Explanation of the figures. express the name Cleopatra, a very common name for princesses of the royal line in Egypt (luring the dynasty of the Ptolemy's. We mark the various figures forming the inscrip- tion, with the letters which modern interpre- ters have assigned to them. It will be seen that they all spell, rudely indeed, but yet tol- erably distinctly, the name C leopatea. By a careful examination of these speci mens, it will be seen that the order of placing the letters, if such hieroglyphical characters can be so called, is not regular, and the let- ter «, which is denoted by a bird in some of the specimens, is represented differently in others. There are also two characters at the close of each inscription which are not repre- sented by any letter, the one being of the form of an egg, and the other a semicircle. These last are supposed to denote the sex of the sovereign whose name they are connected with, as they are found in many cases in in- scriptions commemorative of princesses and queens. They are accordingly specimens of symbolic characters, while all the others in the name are phonetic. It seems therefore not improbable that the principle of forming a written language by 58 KoMFLUs. [B.C. 1500. Closes in Egypt. Importance of the art of writing. means of cliaracters representing the sounda of which the words of the spoken language are composed, was of Egyptian origin ; and that it was carried in very early times to the countries on the eastern shore of the Mediter- ranean sea, and there improved upon by the adoption of a class of characters more simple than, the hieroglyphics of Egypt, and of a form more convenient for a regular linear ar- rangement in writing. Moses, who spent his early life in Egypt, and who was said to be learned in all the wisdom of the Egyptians, may have acquired the art of writing there. However this may be, and whatever may be the uncertainty which hangs over the early history of this art, one thing is certain, and that is, that the discovery of the art of writ- ing, including that of printing, which is only the consummation and perfection of it,— the art by which man can record language, and give life and power to the record to speak to the eye permanently and forever — to go to every nation — to address itself simultaneously to millions of minds, and to endure through all time, is by far the greatest discovery, in respect to the enlargement which it makes of human powers, that has ever been made. B.C. 1200.] Story OF ^NEAs. 59 Story of iEneas remained long unwritten. Chapter II. The Story of ^neas. lESIDES the intrinsic interest and impor- tance of the facts stated in the last chap- ter, to the student of history, there was a special reason for calling the attention of the reader to them here, that he might know in what light the story of the destruction of Troy, and of the wanderings of ^neas, the great ancestor of Homulus, which we now proceed to relate, is properly to be regarded. The events connected with the destruction of Troy, took place, if they ever occurred at all, about the year twelve hicndred before Christ. Ho- mer is supposed to have lived and composed his poems about the year nine hundred ; and the art of writing is thought to have been first employed for the purpose of recording contin- uous compositions, about the year six hundred, The story of ^neas then, so far as it has any claims to historical truth, is a tale which was handed down by oral tradition, among story- tellers for three hund]*ed years, and then waij 60 EoMULUs. [B.C. 1200. Mother of ^neas. Her origin. clotJied ill yerse, and handed down in that form orally by the memory of the reciters of it, in generations successive for three hundred years more, before it was recorded ; and dur- ing the whole period of this transmission, the interest felt in it was not the desire for ascer- taining and communicating historic truth, but simply for entertaining companies of listeners with the details of a romantic story. The story, therefore, can not be relied upon as his- torically true ; but it is no less important on that account, that all well-informed persons should know what it is. The mother of ^neas (as the story goes), was a celebrated goddess. Her name was Aphrodite ;* though among the Komans she afterward received the name of Yenus. Aph- rodite was not born of a mother, like ordinary mortals, but sprang mysteriously and super- naturally from a foam which gathered on a certain occasion upon the surface of the sea At the commencement of her existence slie crept out upon the shores of an island that was near, — the island of Cythera, — which, lies Bouth of the Peloponnesus. * Pronounced in four syllables, Aph-ro-di4i? B.C. 1200.] Story of ZEneas. 61 Early history of Venus. Her magical powers. Origin of Venus. She was the goddess of love, of beauty, and of fruitfuhiess ; and so extraordinary were the magical powers which were inherent from the beginning, in her very nature, that as she walked along upon the sands of the shore, when she first emerged from the sea, plants and flowers of the richest verdure and beauty sprang up at her feet wherever she stepped. She was, besides, in her own person, inexpres- sibly beautiful ; and in addition to the natural influence of her charms, she was endued with the supernatural power of inspiring the senti- ment of love in all who beheld her. From Cythera the goddess made her way over by sea to Cyprus, where she remained for some time, amid the gorgeous and magnificent scenery of that enchanting island. Here she (52 Romulus. [B.C. 1200. Her children Eros and Anteros. She goes to Olympus. had two cliildren, beautiful boys. Their names were Eros and Anteros. Each of these chil- dren remained perj^etually a child, and Eros, in later times called Cupid, became the god of "love bestowed," while Anteros was the God of "love returned." After this the mother and the bojs roamed about the world, ■ — now in the heavenly regions above, and now among mortals on the plains and in the valleys below : they sometimes appeared openly, in their true forms, sometimes they assumed disguises, and sometimes they were wholly invisible ; but whether seen or unseen, they were always busy in performing their functions — the mother inspiring everywhere, in the minds both of gods and men, the ten- derest sentiments of beauty and desire, — while Eros, awakened love in the heart of one person for another, and Anteros made it his duty to tease and punish those who thus be- came objects of affection, if they did not re- turn the love. After some time. Aphrodite and her boys found their way to the heavenly regions of Mount Olympus, where the great divinities resided,^" and there they soon produced great * See Map, page 61. B.C. 1200.] Story OF JEneas. 63 AphrotUte'a love for Anchiscs. The golden apple. trouble, by enldiidling the flames of love in the hearts of the divinities themselves, caus- ing them, by her magic pov/er, to fall in love not only with one another, but also with mortal men and women on the earth below. In re- taliation upon Aphrodite for this mischief, Jupiter, by his supreme power, inspired Aph- rodite herself with a sentiment of love. The object of her affection was Anchises, a hand- some youth, of the royal family of Troy, who lived among the mountains of Ida, not far from the city. The way in which it happened that the af- fection of Aphrodite turned toward an inhab- itant of Mount Ida was this. There had been at one time a marriage among the divinities, and a certain goddess who had not been in- vited to the wedding, conceived the design of avenging herself for the neglect, by pro- voking a quarrel among those who were there. She, accordingly, caused a beautiful golden apple to be made, with an inscription marked upon it, "For the most beautiful." This apple she threw in among the guests assem- bled at the wedding. The goddesses all claimed the prize, and a very earnest dispute arose among them in respect to it. Jupiter 64 lioMULTJs. [B.C. 1200. The award of Paris. Venus's residence at Mt. Ida. sent the several claimants, under the charge of a special messenger, to Mount Ida, to a handsome and accomplished young shepherd there, named Paris — ^who was, in fact, a prince in disguise — ^that they might exhibit them- selves to him, and submit the question of the right to the apple to his award. The contend- ing goddesses appeared accordingly before Paris, and each attempted to bribe him to de- cide in her favor, by offering him some pe- culiar and tempting reward. Paris gave the apple to Aphrodite, and she was so pleased with the result, that she took Paris under her special protection, and made the solitudes of Mount Ida one of her favorite retreats. Here she saw and became acquainted with Anchises, who was, as has already been said, a noble, or prince, by descent, though he had for some time been dwelling away from the city, and among the mountains, rearing flocks and herds. Here Aphrodite saw him, and wlien Jupiter inspired her with a sudden sus- ceptibility to the power of love, the shepherd Anchises was the object toward which lier affections turned. She accordingly went to Mount Ida, and giving herself up to him, she lived with him for some time among the B.C. 1200.] Stoky OF JEneas. 65 Aphrodite's asnimed character. She leaves Anchises. mountains as his bride, ^neas was their eon. Aphrodite did not, however, appear to An- chises in lier true character, but assumed, instead, the form and the disguise of a Phry- gian princess. Phrjgia was a kingdom of Asia Minor, not very far from Troy. She con- tinued this disguise as long as she remained with Anchises at Mount Ida ; at length, how- ever, she concluded to leave him, and to return to Olympus, and at her parting she made herself known. She, however, charged Anchises never to reveal to any person who she was, declaring that ^neas, whom she was going to leave with his father when she went away, would be destroyed by a stroke of lightning from heaven, if the real truth in respect to his mother were ever revealed. When Aphrodite had gone, Anchises, hav- ing now no longer any one at home to attend to the rearing of the child, send him to Dar- danus, a city to the northward of Troy, where he was brought up in the house of his sister, the daughter of Anchises, who was married and settled there. His having a sister old enough to be married, would seem to show that youth was not one of the attractions of E OG EoMULus. [B.C. 1200. Childhood of ^neas. The Trojan war. Achilles. Ancliises in Aphrodite's eyes, ^neas re- mained with his sister until he was old enough to be of service in the care of flocks and herds, and then returned again to his former resi- dence among the pasturages of the mountains. His mother, though she had left him, did not forget her child ; but watched over him con- tinually, and interposed directly to aid or to protect him, whenever her aid was required by the occurrence of any emergency of diffi- culty or danger. At length the Trojan war broke out. For a time, however, ^neas took no part in it. He was jealous of the attentions which Priam, the king of Troy, paid to other young men, and fancied that he himself was overlooked, and that the services that he might render were undervalued. He remained, therefore, at his home among the mountains, occupying himself with his flocks and herds ; and he might, perhaps, have continued in these peace- ful avocations to the end of the war, had it not been that Achilles, one of the most formi- dable of the Grecian leaders, in one of his forays in the country around Troy, in search of provisions, came upon J^neas's territory, and attacked him while tending his flocks B.C. 1200.] Stoky OF Ji:NEAs. 69 .■Eneas engages in the war. Story of Pandarus. upon the mountain side. Acliilles seized tlie flocks and herds, and drove ^neas and his fellow-herdsmen away. They w^ould, in fact, all have been killed, had not Aphrodite in- terposed to protect her son and save his life. The loss of his flocks and herds, and the injury which he himself had received, aroused ^neas's indignation and anger against the Greeks. He immediately raised an armed force of Dardanians, and thenceforth took an active i:)art in the war. He became one of the most distinguished among the combatants, for his prowess and his bravery ; and being always assisted by his mother in his conflicts, and rescued by her when in danger, he per- formed prodigies of strength and valor. At one time he pressed forward into the thickest of the battle to rescue a Trojan leader named Pandarus, who was beset by his foes and brought into very imminent danger, ^neas did not succeed in saving his friend. Pandarus was killed, ^neas, however, flew to the spot, and by means of the most extra ordinary feats of strength and valor he drove the Greeks away from the body. They at- tacked it on every side, but ^neas, wheeling around it, and fighting now on thia side an J 70 EoMULus. [B.C. 1200. iSneas reBCued by his mother. Her magic vail. now on that, drove tliem all away. They re~ tired to a little distance and then began to throw in a shower of spears and darts and ar- rows npon him. ^neas defended himself and the body of his friend from these missiles for a time, with his shield. At length, how- ever, he was struck in the thigh with a pon- derous stone which one of the Greek warriors hurled at him, — a stone so heavy that two men of ordinary strength w^ould have been required to lift it. ^neas was felled to the ground by the blow. He sank down, resting upon his arm, faint and dizzy, and being thus made helpless w^ould have immediately been overpowered and killed by his assailants had not his mother interposed. She came imme- diately to rescue him. She spread her vail over him, which had the magic power of ren- dering harmless all blows which were aimed at what was covered by it, and then taking him up in her arms she bore him off through the midst of his enemies unharmed. The swords, spears, and javelins which were aimed at him were rendered powerless by the magic vail. Aphrodite, however, flying thus with her wounded son, mother-like, left herself exposed B.C.1200.] Story OF ^NEAs. 71 Venus i8 wounded. Iris conveys her away. in her anxiety to protect him. Diomedes, the cliief of the pursuers, following headlong on^ aimed a lance at Yenus herself. The lance struck Yenus in the hand, and inflicted a very severe and painful wound. It did not, how- ever, stop her flight. She pressed swiftly on, while Diomedes, satisfied with his revenge, gave up the pursuit, but called out to Aphro- dite as she disappeared from view, bidding her learn from the lesson which he had given her that it w^ould be best for her thenceforth to remain in her own appropriate sphere, and not come down to the earth and interfere in the contests of mortal men. Aphrodite, after conveying ^neas to a place of safety, fled, herself, faint and bleeding, to the mountains, where, after ascending to the region of mists and clouds, Iris, the beautiful goddess of the rainbow, came to her aid. Iria found her faint and pale from the loss of blood ; she did all in her power to soothe and comfort the wounded goddess, and then led her far- ther still among the mountains to a place where they found Mars, the god of w^ar, stand- ing with his chariot. Mars was Aphrodite's brother. He took compassion upon his sister in her distress, and lent Iris his chariot and 72 EoMULus. [B.C. 1200. Single combat between iEneas and Achilles. norses, to convey Aphrodite home. Aphro dite ascended into the chariot, and Iris took the reins ; and thus they rode through the air to the mountains of Olympus. Here the gods and goddesses of heaven gathered around their unhappy sister, bound up lier wound, and expressed great sympathy for her in her sufferings, uttering at the same time many piteous complaints against the merciless vio- lence and inhumanity of men. Such is the ancient tale of ^neas and his mother. At a later period in the history of the war, ^neas had a grand combat with Achilles, who was the most terrible of all the Grecian warriors, and was regarded as the grand champion of their cause. The two armies were drawn up in battle array. A vast open space was left between them on the open plain. Into this space the two combatants advanced, yEneas on the one side and Achillea on the other, in full view of all the troops, and of the throngs of spectators assembled to witness the proceedings. A "very strong and an universal interest was felt in the approaching combat, ^neas, be- sides the prodigious strength and bravery for which he was renowned, was to be divinely B.C.1200.] Stokt OF ^NEAs. 73 The charmed life of Achilles. His shield. aided, it was known, by the protection of hie mother, who was always at hand to guide and support him in the conflict, and to succor him in danger. Achilles, on the other hand, pos- sessed a charmed life. He had been dipped by his mother Thetis, when an infant, in the river Styx, to render him invulnerable and immortal ; and the immersion produced the effect intended in respect to all those parts ot tlie body which the water laved. As, how ever, Thetis held the child by the ankles when she plunged liim in, the ankles remained un affected by the magic influence of the water. All the other ]3arts of the body were rendered incajDable of receiving a wound. Achilles had a very beautiful and costly shield which his mother had caused to be made for him. It was formed of five plates of metal. The outermost plates on each side were of brass ; in the centre was a plate of gold ; and between the central plate of gold and the outer ones of brass were two other plates, one on each side, made of some third aietal The workmanship of this shield was of the most elaborate and beautiful character The mother of Achilles had given this weapon to her son when he left home to join tlio 74 EoMULus. [-B.C. 1200. The meeting of ^neas and Achilles on the field. Greeks in the Trojan war, not trusting entirely it seems to his magical invulnerability. The armies looked on with great interest aa these two chamj)ions advanced to meet each other, while all the gods and goddesses sur- veyed the scene with almost equal interest, from their abodes above. Some joined Yenus in the sympathy which she felt for her son, while others espoused the cause of Achilles. When the two combatants had approached each other, they paused before commencing the conflict, as is usual in such cases, and sur- veyed each other with looks of anger and de- fiance. At length Achilles spoke. He began to upbraid ^neas for his infatuation and folly in engaging in the war, and especially for coming forward to put his life at hazard by encountering such a champion as was now before him. "What can you gain," said he, " even if you conquer in this warfare ? You can never be king, even if you succeed in saving the city. I know you claim to be descended from the royal line ; but Priam has 8on3 who are the direct and immediate heirs, and your claims can never be allowed. Then, besides, what folly to attempt to contend witb me ! Me, the strongest, bravest, and mosi B.C. 1200.] Stoky OF ^NEAs. 75 The harangues of the combatants. terrible of the Greeks, and the special favorite of many deities." With this introduction Achilles went on to set forth the greatness of his pedigree, and the loftiness of his preten- Bions to superiority over all others in personal prowess and valor, in a manner very eloquent indeed, and in a style which it seems was very much admired in those days as evincing only a proper spirit and energy, — though in our times such a harangue would be very apt to be regarded as only a vainglorious and empty boasting. ^neas replied, — retorting with vauntinga on his side no less spirited and energetic than those which Achilles had expressed. He gave a long account of his pedigree, and of his various claims to lofty consideration. He, however, said, in conclusion, that it was idle and useless for them to waste their time in such a w^ar of words, and so he hurled his spear at Achilles with all his force, as a token of the commencement of the battle. The spear struck the shield of Achilles, and impinged upon it w^ith such force that it pen etrated through two of the plates of metal which composed the shield, and reached the central plate of gold, where the force witb •76 EoMULUs. [B.C. 120a The battle begun. Narrow escape. which it had been throwa being spent, it was arrested and fell to the ground. Achilles then exerting his utmost strength threw liis spear in return, ^neas crouched down to avoid the shock of the weapon, holding his shield at the same time above his head, and bracing himself with all his force against the approaching concussion. Tiie spear struck the shield near the upper edge of it, as it w^as held in yEneas's hands. It passed directly through the plates of which the shield was composed, and then continuing its course, it glided dow^n just over ^neas's back, and planted itself deep in the ground behind him, and stood there quivering, ^neas crept ont from beneath it with a look of horror. Immediately after throwing his spear, and perceiving that it had failed of its intended effect, Achilles drew his sword and rushed forward to engage ^neas, hand to hand.. JEneas himself recovering in an instant from the consternation which his narrow escape from impalement had awakened, seized an enormous stone, heavier, as Homer represents it, than any tw^o ordinary men could lift, and was about to hurl it at his advancing foe. when suddenly the -whole combat was termi- B.C. 1200.] Stoky OF ^NEAs. 77 Sudden termination of the combat. nated by a very unexpected interposition. It seems that the various gods and goddesses, from their celestial abodes among the sum- mits of Olympus, had assembled in invisiblo forms to witness this combat — some sympa- thizing with and upholding one of the comba- tants, and some the other. ]^eptune was on ^neas's side ; and accordingly when he saw how imminent the danger was which threat- ened ^neas, when Achilles came rushing upon him with his uplifted sword, he at once resolved to interfere. He immediately rushed, himself, between the combatants. He brought a sudden and supernatural mist over the scene, such as the God of the Sea has always at his command ; and this mist at once con- cealed ^neas from Achilles 's view. IS'ep- tune drew the spear out of the ground, and released it too from the shield which remained still pinned down by it ; and then threw the spear down at Achilles's feet. He next seized ^neas, and lifting him high above the ground he bore him away in an invisible form over the heads of soldiers and horsemen that had been drawn up in long lines around the field of combat. When the mist passed away Achilles saw his spear lying at his feet, and 78 EoMULus. [B.C. 1200. The tales of the JEnei i. on looking around liim found that liis enemy was gone. Such are the marvelous tales which were told by the ancient narrators, of the prowess and exploits of JEneas under the walls of Troy, and of the interpositions which were put forth to save him in moments of desperate danger, by beings supernatural and divine. These tales were in those days believed as sober history. That which was marvelous and philosophically incredible in them, was sacredly sheltered from question by mingling itself with the prevailing principles of reli- gious faith. The tales were thus believed, and handed down traditionally from genera- tion to generation, and admired and loved by all who heard and repeated them, partly on account of their romantic and poetical beauty, and partly on account of the sublime and sa- cred revelations which they contained, in respect to the divinities of the spiritual world. B.C. 1200.] DESTiiucTioN OF Troy. 79 Termination of the siege of Troy. Cjiaptek IY. The Destkuction of Tkoy. AFTER the final conquest and destruction of Troy, -^neas, in tlie course of liia wanderings, stopped, it was said, at Car- thage, on his way to Italy, and there, accord- ing to ancient story, he gave the following account of the circumstances attending the capture and the sacking of the city, and his own escape from the scene. One day, after the war had been continued with various success for a long period of time, the sentinels on the walls and towers of the city began to observe extraordinary move ments in the camp of the besiegers, which seemed to indicate preparations for breaking up the camp and going away. Tents were struck. Men were busy passing to and fro, arranging arms and military stores, as if for transportation. A fleet of ships was drawn up along the shore, which was not far distant, and a great scene of activity manifested itself upon the bank, indicating an approaching 80 EoMULus. [B.C. 1200. Appearances observed by the besieged. embarkation. In a word, the tidings soon Bpread throiigliout tlie city, tliat the Greeks had at h)ngth become weary of the protracted contest, and were making preparations to withdraw from the field. These proceedings were watched, of course, with great interest from the walls of the city, and at length the inhabitants, to their inexpressible joy, found their anticipations and hopes, as they thought, fully realized. The camp of the Greeks was gradually broken up, and at last entirely abandoned. The various bodies of troops were drawn off one by one to the shore, where they were embarked on board the ships, and then sailed away. As soon as this result was made sure, the Trojans threw open the gates of the city, and came out in throngs, — soldiers and citizens, men, women and children togeth- er, — to explore the abandoned encampmentj and to rejoice over the departure of their ter- rible enemies. The first thins: which attracted their atten- tion was an immense wooden horse, which stood upon the ground that the Greek en- campment had occupied. The Trojans im- mediately gathered, one and all, around the monster, full of wonder and curiosity, ^neas, B.C. 1200.] Destkuction of Trot. 81 The wooden horse. Its probable size. in narrating tlie story, says that the imago was as large as a mountain ; but, as he after- ward relates that the people drew it on wheels within the walls of the city, and espe- cially as he represents them as attaching the ropes for this pm-pose to the neck of the im- age, instead of to its fore-legs, which would have furnished the only proper points of at- tachment if the effigy had been of any very extraordinary size, he must have had a very small mountain in mind in making the com- parison. Or, which is perhajDS more proba- ble, he used the term only in a vague meta- phorical sense, as we do now when we speak of the waves of the ocean as running moun- tain high, when it is well ascertained that the crests of the billows, even in the most violent and most protracted storms, never rise more than twenty feet above the general level. At all events, the image was large enough to excite the wonder of all the beholders. The Trojan people gathered around it, wholly unable to understand for what purpose the Greeks could have constructed such a mon- ster, to leave behind them on their departure from Troy. After the first emotions of aston- ishment and wonder which the spectacle awa- F 82 Romulus. [B.C. 1200 Various opinions in respect to the disposal of it. kenecl, had somewhat subsided, there followed a consultation in respect to the disposal which was to be made of the prodigy. The opinions on this point were very various. One com mander was disposed to consider the image a sacred prize, and recommended that they should convey it into the city, and deposit it in the citadel, as a trophy of victory. An- other, dissenting decidedly from this counsel, said that he strongly suspected some latent treachery, and he proposed to build a fire under the body of the monster, and burn the image itself and all contrivances for mischief which might be contained in it, together. A third recommended that they should hew it open, and see for themselves what there might be within. One of the Trojan leaders named Laocoon, who, just at this juncture, came to the spot, remonstrated loudly and earnestly against having any thing to do w^ith so mys- terious and suspicious a prize, and, by way of expressing the strong animosity which he felt toward it, he hurled his spear with all his force against the monster's side. The spear stood trembling in the wood, producing a deep hollow sound by the concussion. What the decision would have been in re- B.C. 1200.J JJe&tkuctiox of Tkoy. 83 Sudden appearance of a captive. His wretched condition, Bpect to the disposal of the horse, if this con- sultation and debate had gone on, it is impos- sible to say, as the farther consideration of the subject was all at once interrupted, by new occurrences which here suddenly inter- vened, and which, after engrossing for a time the whole attention of the company assembled, finally controlled the decision of the question. A crowd of peasants and shepherds were seen coming from the mountains, with much ex citement, and loud shouts and outcries, bring ing with them a captive Greek whom they had secured and bound. As the peasants came up with their prisoner, the Trojans gath- ered eagerly round them, full of excitement and threats of violence, all thirsting, appa- rently, for their victim's blood. He, on his part, filled the air with the most piteous lam- entations and cries for mercy. His distress and wretchedness, and the earnest entreaties which he uttered, seemed at length to soften the hearts of his enemies, and finally, the violence of the crowd around tlie captive became somewhat appeased, and was succeeded by a disposition to question him, and hear what he had to say. The Greek told them, in answer to their interro-- 84 EoMULLS. [B.C. 1200, Sinon's account of the departure of the Greeks. gations, that his name was Sinon, and that he was a fugitive from his own countrymen tho Greeks, who had been intending to kill him. He said that the Greek leaders had long been desirous of abandoning the siege of Troj, and that they had made many attempts to embark their troops and sail away, but that the winds and seas had risen against them on every such attempt, and defeated their de- sign. They then sent to consult the oracle of Apollo, to learn what was the cause of the displeasure and hostility thus manifested against them by the god of the sea. The ora- cle replied, that they could not depart from Troy, till they had first made an atoning and propitiatory offering by the sacrifice of a man, such an one as Apollo himself might desig- nate. When this answer was returned, the whole army, as Sinon said, was thrown into a state of consternation. 'No one knew but that the fatal designation might fall on him. The leaders were, however, earnestly determined on carrying the measure into effect. Ulysses called upon Calchas, the priest of Apollo, to point out the man who was to die. Calchas waited day after day, for ten days, before the divine intimation was made to him in respect B.C. 1200.] Destruction of Tkot. 85 His story of the proposed sacrifice. Hia escape. to the individual who -was to sufier. At length he said that Sinon was the destined victim. His comrades, Sinon said, rejoicing in their own escaj)e from so terrible a doom, eagerly assented to the priest's decision, and immediately made preparations for the cere mony. The altar was reared. The victim was adorned for the sacrifice, and the gar lands, according to the accustomed usage, were bound upon his temples. He contrived, however, he said, at the last moment, to make his escape. He broke the bands with which he had been bound, and fled into a morass near the shore, where he remained concealed in inaccessible thickets until the Greeks had sailed away. He then came forth and was at length seized and bound by the shepherds of the mountains, who found him wandering about, in extreme destitution and misery. Si- non concluded his tale by the most piteous lamentations, on his wretched lot. The Ti'o- jans, he supposed, would kill him, and the Greeks, on their return to his native land, in their anger against him for having made his escape from them, would destroy his wife and children. The air and manner with which Sinon told S6 E OMUL us. [B.C. 1200. Priam'd address to him. Sinon's account of the horse. this story seemed so sincere, and so natural and unaffected were the expressions of wretch- edness and despair with which he ended his narrative, that the Trojan leaders had no sus- picion that it was not true. Their compassion was moved for the wretched fugitive, and they determined to spare his life. Priam, the aged king, who was present at the scene, in the midst of the Trojan generals, ordered the cords with which the peasants had bound the captive to be sundered, that he might stand before them free. The king spoke to him, too, in a kind and encouraging manner. " For- get your countrymeil," said he. " They are gone. Plenceforth you shall be one of us. We will take care of you." " And now," he continued, " tell us what this monstrous image means. Why did the Greeks make it, and why have they left it here ?" Sinon, as if grateful for the generosity with which his life had been spared, professed him- self ready to give his benefactors the fullest information. He told them that the wooden iiorse had been built by the Greeks to replace a certain image of Pallas which they had previously taken and borne away from Troy, it was to replace this image, Sinon said, that B.C. 1200.] Desteuction OF Teot. 87 Effect produced by Sinon's story. the Greeks had built the wooden horse ; and their purpose in making the image of this monstrous size was to prevent the possibility of the Trojans taking it into the city, and thus appropriating to themselves the benefit of its protecting efficacy and virtue. The Trojans listened with breathless inter- est to all that Sinon said, and readily believ- ed his story; so admirably well did he coun- terfeit, by his words and his demeanor, all the marks and tokens of honest sincerity in what he said of others, as well of grief and des2:)air in respect to his own unhappy lot. The cur- rent of opinion which had begun before to set strongly in favor of destroying the horse, was wholly turned, and all began at once to look iil^oii the colossal image as an object of sacred veneration, and to begin to form plans for transporting it within the limits of the city. Whatever remaining doubts any of them might have felt on the subject were dispelled by the occurrence of a most extraordinary phenomenon just at this stage of the affair, which was understood by all to be a divine judgment upon Laocoon for his sacreligious temerity in striking his spear into the horse's side. Tt had been determined to offer a sacri- 88 EoMULTJS. [B.C. 1200. The serpents and Laocoon. fice to ]^eptune. Lots were drawn to deter- mine who should perform the rite. The lot fell upm Laocoon. He began to make prep- arations to perform the duty, assisted by his two yonng sons, when suddenly two immense serpents appeared, coming up from the sea. They came swimming over the surface of the water, with their heads elevated above the waves, until they reached the shore, and then gliding swiftly along, they advanced across the plain, their bodies brilliantly spotted and glittering in the sun, their eyes flashing, and their forked and venomous tongues darting threats and defiance as they came. The people fled in dismay. The serpents, disregarding all others, made their way directly toward the affrighted children of Laocoon, and twin- ing around them they soon heid the writhing and struggling limbs of their shrieking victims hopelessly entangled in their deadly convo- lutions. Laocoon, who was himself at a little distance from the spot, when the serpents came, as soon as he saw the danger and heard the agonizing cries of his boys, seized a weapon and ran to rescue them. Listead, however, of being able to save his children, he only involved himself E.G. 1200.] Destruction OF Teoy. 89 Aucient statue of Laocoon. Its history. ill their dreadful fate. Tlie serpents seized hiin as soon as he came within their reach, and taking two turns around his neck and two around his body, and binding in a re- morseless gripe the forms of the fainting and dying boys with other convolutions, they raised their heads high above the group of victims w^hich they thus enfolded, and hissed and darted out their forked tongues in token of defiance and victory. When at length their work was done, tliey glided away and took refuge in a temple that was near, and coiled themselves up for repose beneath the feet of the statue of a goddess that stood in the shrine. The story of Laocoon has become celebrated among all mankind in modern times by means of a statue representing the catastrophe, which was found two or three centuries ago among the ruins of an ancient edifice at Rome. Tliis statue was mentioned by an old Roman writer, Pliny, who gave an account of it wdiile it yet stood in its place in the ancient city. He fcaid that it was the work of three artists, a father and two sons, who combined their in- dustry and skill to carve in one group, and with immense labor and care, the representa- tion of Laocoon himself, the two boys, and 90 EoMULus. [B.C. 1200, The statue now deposited in the Vatican. De&cription of it. the two serpents, making five living beings intertwined intricately together, and all carved from one single block of marble. On the de> cline and fall of Rome this statue was iost among the ruins of the city, and for many centuries it was known to mankind only through the description of Pliny. At lengtli it was brought to light again, having been discovered about three centuries ago, under the ruins of the very edifice in which Pliny had described it as standing. It immediately became the object of great interest and atten- tion to the whole world. It was deposited in the Yatican ; a great reward w^as paid to the owner of the ground on which it w^as discov- ered ; drawings and casts of it, without num- ber, have been made ; and the original stands in the Yatican now, an object of universal in- terest, as one of the most celebrated sculp- tures of ancient or modern times. Laocoon himself forms the center of the group, with the serpents twined around him, while he struggles, with a fearful expression of terror and anguish in his countenance, in the vain attempt to release himself from their hold. One of the serpents has bitten one of the boys in the side, and the wounded child B.C. 1200.] Destruction of Tkot. 91 Effect produced upou the Trojans by Laocoou's fate. sinks under the effects of tlie poison. The other boy, in an agony of terror, is struggling, hopelessly, to release his foot from the convo- lutions with which one of the serpents has en- circled it. The exj^ression of the whole group is exciting and painful, and yet notwith- standing this, there is combined with it a cer- tain mysterious grace and beauty which charms every eye, and makes the composition the wonder of mankind. But to return to the story. The peojDle un- derstood this awful visitation to be the judg- ment of heaven against Laocoon for his sacri- legious presumption in daring to thrust his spear into the side of the image before them, and which they were now very sure they were to consider as something supernatural and divine. They determined with one accord to take it into the city. They immediately began to make prepara- tions for the transportation of it. They raised it from the ground, and fitted to the feet some sort of machinery of wheels or rollers, suitable to the nature of the ground, and strong enough to bear the weiaiht of the colossal mass. The^ attached long ropes to the neck of the image , and extended them forward upon the ground r 92 Romulus. [B.C. 1200, Tlie Trojans draw the horse into the city. and then brought np large companies of citi- zens and soldiers to man them. They arranged a procession, consisting of the generals of the army, and of the great civil dignitaries of the state ; and in addition to these were groups of singing boys and girls, adorned with wreaths and garlands, who were appointed to chant sacred hymns to solemnize the occasion. They widened the access to the city, too, by tearing down a portion of the wall so as to open a sufficient space to enable the monster to get in. When all was ready the ropes were manned, the signal was given, the jDonderous mass began to move, and though it encoun- tered in its progress many difficulties, obstruc- tions, and delays, in due time it was safely deposited in the court of a great public edifice within the city. The wall was then repaired, the day passed away, the night came on, the gates were shut, and the curiosity and wonder of the people within being gradually satisfied, they at length dispersed to their several homes and retired to rest. At midnight the uncon- scious effigy stood silent and alone where its worshipers had left it, while the whole pop- ulation of the city were sunk in slumber, ex- cept tlie sentinels who had been stationed ag U.C. 1200.] Destbuction of Teoy. The Greeks admitted to the city. usual to keep guard at the gates, or to watch upon tJie towers and battlements above them. In the mean time the Greek fleet, which had sailed away nnder pretense of finally aban doning the country, had proceeded only to the island of Tenedos, which was about a league from the shore, and there they had concealed themselves during the day. As soon as night came on they returned to the main land, and disembarking with the utmost silence and se- crecy, they made their way back again under cover of the darkness, as near as they dared to come to the gates of the city. In the mean time Sinon had arisen stealthily from the sleep which he had feigned to deceive those to whose charge he had been committed, and creeping cautiously through the streets he repaired to the place where the wooden horse had been deposited, and there opened a secret door in the side of the image, and liberated a band of armed and desperate men who had been concealed within. These men, as soon as they had descended to the ground and had adjusted their armor, rushed to the city walls, surprised and killed the sentinels and watch- men, tlirew open the gates, and gave the whole body of their comrades that were lurking 94 K OMUL OS. [B.C. 1200, iEneas awakened by the din. His meeting with Pantheus. outside the walls, in tlie silence and darkness of the niglit, an unobstructed admission. ^neas was asleep in his house while these things were transpiring. The house where he lived was in a retired and quiet situation, but he was awakened from his sleep by distant outcries and din, and springing from his couch, and hastily resuming his dress, he as- cended to the roof of the house to ascertain the cause of the alarm. He saw flames as- cending from various edifices in the quarter of the city where the Greeks had come in. He listened. He could distinctly hear the shouts of men, and the notes of trumpets sounding the alarm. He immediately seized his armor and rushed forth into the streets, arousing the inhabitants around him from their slumbers by his shouts, and calling upon them to arm themselves and follow him. In the midst of this excitement, there sud- denly appeared before him, coming from the scene of the conflict, a Trojan friend, named Pantheus, who was hastening away from the danger, perfectly bewildered with excitement and agitation. He was leading with him hia little son, who was likewise pale with terror, ^neas asked Pantheus what had happened B.C. 1200.] Destkuction of Trost. 95 His surprise and terror. Pantheus in reply explained to liim in Lurried and broken words, that armed men, treacher- ously concealed within the wooden horse, had issued forth from their concealment, and had opened the gates of the city, and let the whole horde of their ferocious and desperate enemies in ; that the sentinels and guards who had been stationed at the gates had been killed ; and that the Greek troops had full possession of the city, and were barricading the streets and setting fire to the buildings on every side. "All is lost," said he, " our cause is ruined, and Troy is no more." The announcing of these tidings filled ^neas and those who had joined him with a sj)ecies of phrensy. They resolved to press forward into the combat, and there, if they must perish themselves, to carry down as many as possible of their enemies with them to destruction. They pressed on, therefore, through the gloomy streets, guiding their way toward the scene of action by the glare of the fires upon the sky, and by the sounds of the distant tumult and din. They soon found themselves in the midst of scenes of dreadful terror and confusion, — the scenes, in fact, which are usually exhib- 96 EoMULus. [B.C. 1200. Adventures of ^neas and Pantheua, The tortoise. ited in the midnight sacking of a city. They met with various adventures during the time that they continued their desperate but hope- less resistance. They encountered a party of Greeks, and overpowered and slew them, and then, seizing the armor which their fallen ene- mies had worn, they disguised themselves in it, in hopes to deceive the main body of the Greeks by this means, so as to mingle among them unobserved, and thus attack and de- stroy such small parties as they might meet without being themselves attacked by the rest. They saw the princess Cassandra, the young daughter of king Priam, dragged away by Greek soldiers from a temple where she had sought refuge. They immediately un- dertook to resci.e her, and were at once at- tacked both by the Greek party who had the princess in charge, and also by the Trojan soldiers, who shot arrows and darts down upon them from the roofs above, supposing, from the armor and the plumes which they wore, that they were enemies. They saw the royal palace besieged, and the tortoise formed for scaling the walls of it. The tu- mult and din, and the frightful glare of lurid flames by which the city was illuminated, B.C. 1200.J Destruction OF Tkoy. 99 The position of ^neaa. The tower,, formed a scene of inconceivable confusion and terror. ^neas watched the progress of the assault upon the palace from the top of certain lofty roofs, to which he ascended for the purpose. Here there was a slender tower, which bad been built for a watch-tower, and had been carried up to such a height that, from the summit of it, the watchmen stationed there could survey all the environs of the city, and on one side look off to some distance over the sea. This tower ^neas and the Trojans who were with him contrived to cut off at its base, and throw over upon the throngs of Grecians that were thundering at the palace gates be- below. Great numbers were killed by the falling ruins, and the tortoise was broken d'/wn. The Greeks, however, soon formed an- other tortoise, by means of which some of the soldiers scaled the walls, while others broke down the gates with battering rams and en- gines ; and thus the palace, the sacred and last remaining stronghold of the city, was thrown open to the ferocious and frantic horde of its assailants. The sacking of the palace presented an awful spectacle to the view of ^neas and his 100 EoMULus. [B.C. 1200 The sacking of the palace. Priam. companions, as they looked down upon it from the roofs and battlements around. As the walls, one after another, fell in under the resistless blows dealt by the engines that were brought against them, the interior halls, and the most retired and private apartments, w^ere thrown open to view — all illuminated by the glare of the surrounding conflagrations. Shrieks and wailing, and every other species of outcry that comes from grief, terror, and despair, arose from within ; and such specta- tors as had the heart to look continuously upon the spectacle, could see wretched men running to and fro, and virgins clinging to altars for protection, and frantic mothers vainly endeavoring to find hiding-places for themselves and their helpless children. Priam the king, who was at this time old and infirm, was aroused from his slumbers by the dreadful din, and immediately began to seize his armor, and to prepare himself for rushing into the fight. His wife, however, Hecuba, begged and entreated him to desist. She saw that all was lost, and that any far- ther attempts at resistance would only exas- perate their enemies, and render their own destruction the more inevitable. She per- B.C. 1200.] Destruction of Troy. 101 Priam and Hecuba at the altar. suaded tlie king, therefore, to give up hia weapons and go with her to an altar, in one of the courts of the palace, — a place which it would be sacrilege for their enemies to violate — and there patiently and submissively to a*\'ait the end. Priam yielded to the queen's solicitations, and went with her to the place of refuge which she had chosen; — and the plan which they thus adopted, might very probably have been successful in saving their lives, had it not been for an unex- pected occurrence which suddenly inter- vened, and which led to a fatal result. While they were seated by the altar, in attitudes of submission and su23pliance, they were sud- denly aroused by the rushing toward them of one of their sons, who came in, wounded and bleeding from some scene of combat, and pur- sued by angry and ferocious foes. The spent and fainting warrior sank down at the feet of his father and mother, and lay there dying and weltering in the blood which flowed from his wounds. The aged king was aroused to madness at this spectacle. He leaped to his feet, seized a .javelin, and thundering out at the same time the most loud and bitter impre- cations against the murderers of his son, ho 102 KoMULus. [B.C. 1200 The death of Priam. The despair of the Trojana. hmied the weapon toward them as they ad vanced. The javelin struck the shield of the leader of the assailants, and rebounded from it without producing any other effect than to enrage still more the furious spirit which it was meant to destroy. The assailant rushed forward, seized the aged father by the hair, dragged him slipping, as he went, in the blood of his son, up to the altar, and there plunged a sword into his body, burying it to the hilt, — and then threw him down, convulsed and dying, upon the body of his dying child. Thus Priam fell, and with him the last hope of the people of Troy. The city in full possession of their enemies, the paliice and citadel sacked and destroyed, and the king slain, they saw that there was nothing now left for which they had any wish to contend B.C. 1200.] Flight OF iENEAs. 103 -(Eneas's reflecliona. lie daiermines to go homo. ClIAPTEK Y. The Flight of iENEAs. /li'll^EAS, from Lis station upon tlie battle- -^-■— ^ ments of a neighboring edifice, wit- nessed the taking of the palace and the death of Priam. He immediately gave nj) all for lost, and turned his thoughts at once to the sole question of the means of saving himself and his family from impending destruction. He thought of his father, Anchises, who at this time lived with him in the city, and was nearly of the same age as Priam the king, v/hom he had just seen so cruelly slain. He thought of his wife too, whom he had left at home, and of his little son Ascanius, and lie began now to be overwhelmed with the ap- prehension, that the besiegers had found tlieir way to his dwelling, and w^ere, perhaps, at that very moment plundering and destroying it, and perj^etrating cruel deeds of violence and outrage upon his wife and family. He determined immediately to hasten home. He looked around to see who of his com • 104 EoMULus. [B.C. 1200. iEneas js left at last alone. He goes away panions remained with Iiiin. There was not one. They had all gone and left him alone- Some had leaped down from the battlements and made their escape to other parts of the citj. Some had fallen in the attempt to leap, and had perished in the flames that were burning among the buildings beneath them. Others still had been reached by darts and arrows from below, and had tumbled head- long from their lofty height into the street be - neath them. The Greeks, too, had left that part of the city. When the destruction of the palace had been effected, there was no longer any motive to remain, and they had gone away, one band after another, with loud shouts of exultation and defiance, to seek new combats in other quarters of the city, ^neas listened to the sounds of their voices, as they gradually died away upon his ear. Thus, in one way and another, all had gone, and ^ncas found himself alone, ^neas contrived to find his way back safe! y to the street, and then stealthily choosing \\\^ way, and vigilantly watching against the dan- gers that surrounded him, he advanced cau- tiously among the ruins of the palace, in the direction toward his own home. Ho had not B.C.1200.] Flight of .Eneas. 105 He sees the princess Helen. Story of Helen. proceeded far before he saw a female figure lurking in the shadow of an altar near which he had to pass. It proved to be the princess Helen. i^^^ ■illiririilinii.,-..'^ <£ ^.-S^^ Helen. Helen was a Grrecian princess, formerly the wife of Menelaus, king of Sparta, hut she had eloped from Grreece some years before, with Paris, the son of Priam, king of Troy, and this elopement had been the whole cause of the Trojan war. In the first instance, Mene- 106 EoMULus. [B.C. 1200. iEncas determines to destroy her. His reflectione. laus, accompanied by anotliei' Grecian cliief^ tain, went to Troy and demanded that Helen should be given up again to her proper hus- band. Paris refused to surrender her. Mene- laus then returned to Greece and organized a grand expedition to proceed to Troy and re- capture the queen. This was the origin of the war. The people, therefore, looked upon. Helen as the cause, whether innocent or guilty, of all theii calamities. When ^neas, therefore, who was, as may well be sujDposed, in no very amiable or gentle tem]3er, as he hurried along away from the smoking ruins of the ]3alace toward his home, saw Helen endeavoring to screen herself from the destruction which she had been the means of bringing upon all that he held dear, he was aroused to a phrensy of anger against her, and determined to avenge the wrongs of his coun try by lier destruction. "I will kill her," said he to himself, as he rushed forward toward the spot where she was concealed. " There is no great glory it is true in wreaking ven- geance on a woman, or in bringing her to the punishment which her crimes deserve. Still I will kill her, and I shall be commended for the deed. She shall not, after bringing B.C. 1200.] Flight OF ^NEAS. 107 The a]>parition of Aphrodite. Iler words. ruin upon us, escape herself, and go back to Greece in safety and be a queen there again." As JEneas said these words, rushing for- ward at the same time, sword in hand, he was suddenly intercepted and brought to a stand by the apparition of his mother, the goddess Aphrodite, who all at once stood in the way before him. She stopped him, took him by the hand, urged him to restrain his useless anger, and calmed and quieted him with soothing words. " It is not Helen," said she, '' that has caused the destruction of Troy. It is through the irresistible and irrevocable de- crees of the gods that the city has fallen. It is useless for you to struggle against inevita- ble destiny, or to attemjit to take vengeance on mere human means and instrumentalities. Think no more of Helen. Think of your fam- ily. Your aged father, your helpless wife, your little son, — where are they? Even now while you are wasting time here in vain at- tempts to take vengeance on Helen for what the gods have done, all that are near and dear to you are surrounded by ferocious enemies thirsting for their blood. Fly to them and save them. I shall accompany you, though 108 ICoMTJLus. [B.C. 1200. Ilia mothei'B magical protection. He reaches his homo. tinseen, and will protect yon and them from every impending danger." As soon as Aphrodite had spoken these words she disappeared from view, ^neas, following her injunctions, went directly to- ward his home ; and he found as he passed along the streets that the way was opened for him, by mysterious movements among the armed bands which were passing in every di- rection about the city, in such a manner as to convince him that his mother was really ac- companying him, and protecting his w^ay by her supernatural powers. "When he reached home the first person whom he saw was Anchises his father. Ho told Anchises that all was lost, and that noth- ing now remained for them but to seek safety for themselves by flying to the moun- tains behind the city. But Anchises refused t) go. "You who are young," said he, "and who have enough of life before you to be worth preserving, may fly. As for me I will not attempt to save the little remnant that re- mains to me, to be spent, if saved, in misera- ble exile. If the powers of heaven had in- tended that I should have lived any longer, they would have spared my native city, — ^my RC.1200.] Flight of ^neas. 109 The aetermiiiation of Ancliisos. Creusa's entreaties. only home. You may go yourselves, but leave me here to die." In saying these words Anchises turned away in great despondency, firmly fixed, apparently, in his determination to remain and share the fate of the city, ^neas and Creiisa his wife joined their entreaties in urg- ing him to go away. But he would not be persuaded, ^neas then declared that he would not go and leave his father. If one was to die they would all die, he said, togeth er. lie called for his armor and began to 23ut it on, resolving to go out again into the streets of the city and die, since he must die, in the act of destroying his destroyers. He was, however, prevented from carrying this determination into effect, by Creusa's in- tervention, who fell down before him at the threshold of the door, almost frantic with ex- citement and terror, and holding her little son Ascanius with one arm, and clasping her husband's knees with the other, she begged him not to leave them. "Stay and save us," said she ; " do not go and throw your life away. Or, if you will go, take us with you that we may all die together." The conflict of impulses and passions in this 110 KoMULUs. [B.C. 1200 The plan formed for the escape of the family. iinliappy family continued for some time longer, but it ended at last in tlie yielding of Anchises to the wishes of the rest, and they all resolved to fly. In the mean time, the noise and uproar in the streets of the city, were drawing nearer and nearer, and the light of the burning buildings breaking out continu- ally at new points in the progress of the con- flaorration, indicated that no time was to be lost. JEneas hastily formed his plan. His father was too old and infirm to go himself through the city, ^neas determined there- fore to carry him upon his shoulders. Little Ascanius was to walk along by his side. Creusa was to follow, keeping as close as pos- sible to her husband lest she should lose him in the darkness of the night, or in the scenes of uproar and confusion thrcnigh which they would have to pass on the way. The domes- tics of the family were to escape from the city by different routes, each choosing his own, in order to avoid attracting the attention of their enemies ; and when once without the gates they were all to rendezvous again at a cer- tain rising ground, not far from the city, which ^neas designated to them by means of an old deserted temple which marked the B.C. 1200.] Flight OF ^NEAs. Ill The lion's skin. The household gcKls. Creuaa. B23ot, and a venerable cypress which grew there. This plan being formed the party imme- diately proceeded to put it in execution. ^neas spread a lion's skin over his shoulders to make the resting-place more easy for his father, or perhaps to lighten the pressure of the heavy burden upon his own limbs. An- chises took what were called the household gods, in his hands. These were sacred images which it was customary to keep, in those days, in every dwelling, as the symbol and embodi- ment of divine protection. To save these images, when every thing else was given up for lost, was always the object of the last des- perate effort of the husband and father. JEneas in this case asked his father to take these images, as it would have been an impi- ety for him, having come fresh from scenes of battle and bloodshed, to have put his hand upon them, without previously performing some ceremony of purification. Ascanius took hold of his father's hand. Creusa fol- lowed behind. Thus arranged they sallied forth from the house into the streets — all dark and gloomy, except so far as they received a partial and inconstant light from the flames 112 KoMULUs. [B.ai200 The whole party proceed towards the gates. of the distant conflagrations, which glared in the sky, and flashed sometimes upon battle ments and towers, and upon the tops of loftj dwellings. ^neas pressed steadily on, though in a state continually of the highest excitement and apprehension. He kept stealthily along wherever he could find the deepest shadows, under walls, and through the most obscure and the narrowest streets. He was in con- stant fear lest some stray dart or arrow should strike Anchises or Creusa, or lest some band of Greeks should come suddenly upon them, in which case he knew well that they would all be cut down without mercy, for, loaded down as he was with his burden, he would be entirely unable to do any thing to de- fend either himself or them. The party, how- ever, for a time seemed to escape all these dangers, but at length, just as they were ap- proaching the gate of the city, and began to tliink that they were safe, they were suddenly alarmed by a loud uproar, and by a rush ot men which came in toward them from somo streets in that quarter of the city, and threat- ened to overwhelm them. Anchises was greatly alarmed. He saw the gleaming B.C. 1200.J Flight OF ^NEAs. 113 Escape from tho city. Crousa is lost. weapons of the Greeks who were rushing to- ward them, and he called out to ^neas to flj faster, or to turn oif some other way, in order to escape the impending danger, ^neas was terrified by the shouts and uproar which he heard, and his mind was for a moment con- fused by the bewildering influences of the scene. He however hurried forward, running this way and that, wherever there seemed the best prospect of escape, and often embarrassed and retarded in his flight by the crowds of 'people who were moving confusedly in all directions. At length, however, he succeed- ed in flnding egress from the city. He press- ed on, without stopping to look behind him till he reached the appointed place of rendez- vous on the hill, and then gently laying down his burden, he looked around for Creusa. She was nowhere to be seen. .^Eneas was in utter consternation, at flnd- ing that his wife was gone. He mourned and lamented this dreadful calamity with loud ex- clamations of grief and despair ; then reflect- ing that it was a time for action and not for idle grief, he hastened to conceal his father and Ascanius in a dark and winding valley be- hind the hill, and leaving them there under B 114 Romulus. [B.C. 1200. iEiieas goes back in search of Cieusa. the charge of his domestics, he hastened back to the city to see if Creusa could be found. He armed himself completely before he went, being in his desperation determined to encounter every danger in his attempts to find and to recover his beloved wife. He went directly to the gate from which he had come out, and re-entering the city there, he began to retrace, as well as he could, the way that he had taken in coming out of the city — guiding himself as he went, by the light of the fiames which rose up here and there from the burning buildings. He went on in this way in a desperate state of agitation and distress, searching everywhere but seeing nothing of Creusa. At length he thought it possible that she had concluded, when she found herself separated from him^ to go back to the house, as the safest place of refuge for her, and he determined, accord- mgly, to go and seek her there. This was his last hope, and most cruelly was it disappointed when he came to the place of his dwelling. He found his house, when he arrived near the spot, all in flames. The surrounding buildings were burning too, and the streets in the neighborhood were piled up with furni- B.C. 1200.] Flight OF J^NEAs. 11? He finds that hia house has been burned. ture and goods wliicli the wretched inmates of the dwellings had vainly endeavored to save. These inmates themselves were stand- ii]g around, distracted with grief and terror, and gazing hopelessly upon the scene of dev- astation before them. ^neas saw all these things at a glance, and immediately, in a frenzy of excitement, began to call out Creusa's name. He went to and fro among the groups surrounding the fire, calling for her in a frantic manner, and im- ploring all whom he saw to give him some tidings of her. All was, however, in vain. She could not be found, ^neas then went roaming about through other portions of the city, seeking her everywhere, and inquiring for her of every person whom he met that had the appearance of being a friend. His sus- pense, however, was terminated at last by his suddenly coming upon an apparition of the spirit of Creusa, which rose before him in a solitary part of the city, and arrested his pro- gress. The apparition was of preternatural size, and it stood before him in so ethereal and shadow-like a form, and the features beamed upon him with so calm and placid and benignant an expression, as convinced 116 EoMULiJs. [B.C. 1200, The apparition of Creusa, Her predictions. hini that the vision was not of this world, .^neas saw at a glance that Creusa's earthly sorrows and sufferings were ended forever. At first he was shocked and terrified at the spectacle. Creusa, however, endeavored to calm and quiet him by soothing words. *'My dearest husband," said she, " do not give way thus to anxiety and grief. The events which have befallen us, have not come by chance. They are all ordered by an overruling provi- dence that is omnipotent and divine. It was predetermined by the decrees of heaven that you were not to take me with you in your flight. I have learned what your future des- tiny is to be. There is a long period of weary wandering before you, over the ocean and on the land, and you will have many difficulties, dangers, and trials to incur. You will, how- ever, be conducted safely through them all, and will in the end find a peaceful and happy home on the banks of the Tiber. There you will found a new kingdom ; a princess is even now provided for you there, to become your bride. Cease then to mourn for me ; rather rejoice that I did not fall a captive into the hands of our enemies, to be carried away into Greece and made a slave. I am free, and you B.C. 1^00.] Flight OF ^NEAs. 117 Her farewell to her husband. Preparations for departure. must not lament mr fate. Farewell. Love Ascanius for my sake, and watch over him and protect him as long as you live." Having spoken these words, the vision be- gan to disappear. JEneas endeavored to clasp the beloved image in his arms to retain it, but it was intangible and evanescent, and, before he could speak to it, it was gone, and he was left standing in the desolate and gloomy street alone. He turned at length slowly away ; and solitary, thoughtful and sad, he went back to the gate of the city, and thence out to the valley where he had con- cealed Anchises and his little son. He found them safe. The whole party then sought places of retreat among the glens and mountains, where they could remain concealed a few days, while ^neas and his companions could make arrangements . for abandoning the country altogether. These arrangements were soon completed. As soon as the Greeks had retired, so that they could come out without danger from their place of retreat, JEneas emj^loyed his men in building a number of small vessels, fitting them, as was usual in those days, l)oth with sails and oars . 118 EoMULTJs. [B.C. 1200, ^neas'8 company incroases. His fleet. The embaikation. During the progress of these preparations, small parties of Trojans were coming in con- tinually, day by day, to join him; being drawn successively from their hiding-places among the mountains, by hearing that the Greeks had gone away, and that ^neas was gradually assembling the remnant of the Tro- jans on the shore. The numbers thus col- lected at ^neas's encampment gradually in- creased, and as ^neas enlarged and extended his naval preparations to correspond with the augmenting numbers of his adherents, he found when he was ready to set sail, that he was at the head of a very respectable naval and military force. When the fleet at last was ready, he put a stock of provisions on board, and embarked his men, — taking, of course, Anchises and Ascanius with him. As soon as a favorable wind arose, the expedition set sail. As the vessels moved slowly away, the decks were covered with men and women, who gazed mournfully at the receding shores, conscious that they were bidding a final farewell to their native land. The nearest country within reach in leaving the Trojan coast, was Thrace — a country ly- B.C.1200.] Flight of ^neas. 119 Map of the wanderings of iEneas. ing north of the Egean Sea, and of the Pro- pontis, being separated, in fact, in one part, from the Trojan territories, only by the Hel- WaNDERINGS of iENEAS. lespont. ^neas turned his course northward toward this country, and, after a short voy- age, landed there, and attempted to make a settlement. He was, however, prevented from remaining long, by a dreadful prodigy which he witnessed there, and which induced him 120 Romulus. [Ji.C. 1200. A dreadful prodigy. The bleeding myrtle. to leave those sliores very precipitously. The prodigy was this : They had erected an altar on the shore, after they had landed, and were preparing to offer the sacrifices customary on such occa- sions, when ^neas, wishing to shade the altar with boughs, went to a myrtle bush which was growing near, and began to pull up the green shoots from the ground. To his aston- ishment and horror, he found that blood flowed from the roots whenever they were broken. Drops of what appeared to be hu- man blood would ooze from the ruptured part as he held the shoot in his hand, and fall slowly to the ground. He was greatly terri- fied at this spectacle, considering it as some omen of very dreadful import. He imme- diately and instinctively offered up a prayer to the presiding deities of the land, that they would avert from him the evil influences, whatever they might be, which the omen seemed to portend, or that they would at least explain the meaning of the prodigy. After offering this prayer, he took hold of another stem of the myrtle, and attempted to draw it from the ground, in order to see whether any change in the appearances exhibited by the B.C. 1200.] Flight OF ^NEAs. 121 Words of the myrtle. Story of I'olydorus. prodigy liad been effected by his prayer. At the instant, however, when the roots began to give way, he heard a groan coming up from the ground below, as if from a person in suf- fering. Immediately afterward a voice, in a mournful and sepulchral accent, began to beg him to go away, and cease disturbing the re- pose of the dead. "What you are tearing and lacerating," said the voice, " is not a tree, but a man. I am Polydorus. I was killed by the king of Thrace, and instead of burial, have been turned into a myrtle growing on the shore." Polydorus was a Trojan prince. He was the youngest son of Priam, and had been sent some years before to Thrace, to be brought up in the court of the Thracian king. He had been provided with a large supply of money and treasure when he left Troy, in order that all his wants might be abundantly supj^lied, and that he might maintain, during his ab- sence from home, the position to which his rank as a Trojan prince entitled him. His treasures, however, which had been provided for him by his father as his sure reliance fox support and protection, became the occasion of his ruin — for the Thracian king, when he found 122 Romulus. [B.C. 1200. ^neas leaves Thrace. His various wanderings. that the war was going against the Trojans. and that Priam the father was slain, and the city destroyed, murdered the helpless son to get possession of his gold. ^neas and his companions were shocked to hear this story, and perceived at once that Thrace was no place of safety for them. They resolved immediately to leave the coast and seek their fortunes in other regions. They, however, first, in secrecy and silence, but with great solemnity, j)erformed those funeral rites for Polydorus which were considered in those ages essential to the repose of the dead. "VYhen these mournful ceremonies were ended they embarked on board their ships again and sailed away. After this, the party of ^neas sjDcnt many months in weary voyages from island to island, and from shore to shore, along the Mediterranean sea, encountering every ima- ginable difficulty and danger, and meetirg continually with the strangest and most ro- mantic adventures. At one time they were misled by a mistaken interpretation of proph- ecy to attempt a settlement in Crete — a green and beautiful island lying south of the Egean sea. They had applied to a sacred B.C. 1200.] Flight OF ^NEAS. 123 The attempted settlement at Crete. oracle, which had its seat at a certain conse- crated spot which they visited in the course of their progress southward through the Egean sea, asking the oracle to direct them where to go in order to find a settled home. The oraclej in answer to their request, informed them that they were to go to the land that their ances- tors had originally come from, before their settlement in Troy. JEneas applied to An- chises to inform them what land this was. Anchises replied, that he thought it was Crete. There was an ancient tradition, he said, that some distinguished men among the ancestors of the Trojans had originated in Crete ; and he presumed accordingly that that was the land to which the oracle referred. The course of the little fleet was according- ly directed southward, and in due time the expedition safely reached the island of Crete, and landed there. They immediately com- menced the work of effecting a settlement. They drew the ships uj) uj^on the shore ; they laid out a city; they inclosed and planted fields, and began to build their houses. In a short time, however, all their bright prospects of rest and security were blighted by the breaking out of a dreadful pestilence among 124 EoMULus. [B.C. 1200, Calamities. iEneas's perplexity. Advice of An chises. them. Many died; others who still lived, were utterly prostrated by the eifects of the disease, and crawled about, emaciated and wretched, a miserable and piteous spectaclo to behold. To crown their misfortunes, a great drought came on. The grain which they had planted was dried up and killed in the fields ; and thus, in addition to the horrors of pestilence, they were threatened with the still greater horrors of famine. Their distress was extreme, and they were utterly at a loss to know what to do. In this extremity Anchises recommended that they should send back to the oracle to inquire more particularly in respect to the meaning of the former response, in order to ascertain whether they had, by possibility, misinterpreted it, and made their settlement on the wrong ground. Or, if this was not the case, to learn by what other error or fault they had displeased the celestial powers, and brought upon themselves such terrible judg- ments, ^neas determined to adopt this ad vice, but he was prevented from carrying hia intentions into effect by the following occm* rence. One night he was lying upon his couch in B.C. 1200.] Flight OF JEneas. 125 Sc>ene at night. The household deities. Their address to yEneao. his dwelling, — so harassed by his anxieties and cares that he could not sleep, and revolving in his mind all possible plans for extricating himself and his followers from the difficulties wLich environed them. The moon shone in at the windows, and by the light of this lu- minary he saw, reposing in their shrines in the opposite side of the apartment where he if {L5 sleeping, the household images which he }>ftd rescued from the flames of Troy. As he lvH)ked upon these divinities in the still and s«?lemn hour of midnight, oppressed with axixiety and care, one of them began to ad- dress him. " We are commissioned," said this super- natural voice, " by Apollo, whose oracle you are intending to consult again, to give you the answer that you desire, without requiring you to go back to his temple. It is true that you have erred in attempting to make a settlement in Crete. This is not the land which is des- tined to be your home. You must leave these ehores, and continue your voyage. The land which is destined to receive you is Italy, a land far removed from this spot, and your way to it lies over wide and boisterous seas. Do not be discouraged, however, on this account, 126 li o M u L u s. [B.C. 1200 Effoct of this address. Subsequent adventures. or on account of the calamities v^^liicli now im- pend over yon. Yon will be prospered in the end. You will reacli Italy in safety, and there you will lay the foundations of a mighty em- pire, which in days to come will extend its dominion far and v/ide among the nations of the earth. Take courage, then, and embark once more in your ships with a cheerful and confident heart. You are safe, and in the end all will turn out well." The strength and spirits of the desponding adventurer were very essentially revived by this encouragement. He immediately pre- pared to obey the injunctions which had been thus divinely communicated to him, and in a short time the half-built city was abandoned, and the expedition once more embarked on board the fleet and proceeded to sea. They met in their subsequent wanderings with a great variety of adventures, but it would ex- tend this portion of our narrative too far, to relate them all. They encountered a storm by whfch for three days and three nights they were tossed to and fro, without seeing sim or stars, and of course without any guidance whatever ; and during all this time they were in the most imminent danger of being over* B.C.1200.] Flight of J^neas. 127 Danger of shipwreck. Tlie harpiea. whelmed and destroyed by the billows which rolled sublimely and frightfully around them. At another time, having landed for rest and refreshment among a group of Grecian islands, they were attacked by the har^ies^ birds of prey of jDrodigious size and most offensive habits, and fierce and voracious beyond de- scription. The harpies were celebrated, in fact, in many of the ancient tales, as a race of beings that infested certain shores, and often teased and tormented the mariners and adventurers that happened to come among them. Some said, however, that there was not a race of such beings, but only two or three in all, and they gave their names. And yet different narrators gave different names, among which were Aelopos, Nicothoe, Ocy- thoe, Ocypose, Celaeno, Acholoe, and Aello. Some said that the harpies had the faces and forms of women. Others described them as frightfully ugly ; but all agree in represent- ing them as voracious beyond description, always greedily devouring every thing that they could get within reach of their claws. These fierce monsters flew down upon ^neas and his party, and carried away the food from off the table before them ; and eveu 128 KoMULTjs. [B.C. 1200. jEneas driven away. Dangers at Mt. Etsa. attacked the men themselves. The men then armed themselves with swords, secretly, and waited for the next approach of the harpies, intending to kill them, when they came near. But the nimble marauders eluded all their blows, and escaped with their plunder as be- fore. At length the expedition was driven away from the island altogether, by these rav- enous fowls, and when they were embarking on board of their vessels, the leader of the harpies perched herself upon a rock overlook- ing the scene, and in a human voice loaded u^neas and his companions, as they went away, with taunts and execrations. The expedition passed one night in great terror and dread in the vicinity of Mount Etna, where they had landed. The awful eruptions of smoke, and flame, and burning lava, which issued at midnight from the sum- mit of the mountain,' — ^the thundering sounds which they heard rolling beneath them, through the ground, and the dread which was inspired in their minds by the terrible uaon- Bters that dwelt beneath the mountains, as they supposed, and fed the fires, all combined to impress them with a sense of unutterable awe ; and as soon as the light of the morning en* B.C. 1200.] Flight OF JEneas. 129 The one-eyed giants. Polyphemus. abled them to resume their com-se, thej made all haste to get away from so appalling a scene. At another time they touched upon a coast A^hich was inhabited by a race of one-eyed giants, — monsters of enormous magnitude and of remorseless cruelty. They were cannibals, — feeding on the bodies of men whom they killed by grasping them in their hands and beating them against the rocks which formed the sides of their den. Some men whom one of these monsters, named Polyphemus, had shut up in his cavern, contrived to sm'prise their keeper in his sleep, and though they were wholly unable to kill him on account of his colossal magnitude, they succeeded in put- ting out his eye, and .^neas and his com- panions saw the blinded giant, as they passed along the coast, wading in the sea, and bath- ing his wound. He was guiding his footsteps as he walked, by means of the trunk of a tall pine which served him for a staff. At length, however, after the lapse of a long period of time, and after meeting with a great variety of adventures to which we can not even here allude, ^neas and his party reached the shores of Italy, at the point which by divine intimations had been pointed out I 130 KoMTjLiJS. [B.C. 1200. Remarks on the story of ^neas. to them as the place where they were to land.* The story of the life and adventures of ^neas, which we have given in this and in the preceding chapters, is a faithful summary of the narrative which the poetic historians of those days recorded. It is, of course, not to be relied upon as a narrative of facts ; but it is worthy of very special attention by every cultivated mind of the present day, from the fact, that such is the beauty, the grace, the melody, the inimitable poetic perfection with which the story is told, in the language in which the original record stands, that the nar» rative has made a more deep, and wide- spread, and lasting impression upon the hu- man mind than any other narrati re perhaps that ever was penned. t'See Map, pag@ 184^ B.C. 1197.] Landing in Latium. 131 Description of the country where ^neas landed. Chapter YI. The Landing in Latium. LATIUM was tlie name given to an ancient province of Italy, lying south of the Ti- ber. At the time of ^neas's arrival upon the coast it was an independent kingdom. The name of the king who reigned over it at this period was Latinus. The country on the banks of the Tiber, where the city of Rome afterward arose, was then a wild but picturesque rural region, con- sisting of hills and valleys, occupied by shep- herds and. husbandmen, but with nothing upon it whatever, to mark it as the site of a city. The people that dwelt in Latium were shepherds and herdsmen, though there was a considerable band of warriors under the com- mand of the king. The inhabitants of the country were of Greek origin, and they had brought with them from Greece, when they colonized the country, such rude arts as were then known. They had the use of Cadmus's letters, for writing, so far as writing was em- 132 KoMULus. [B.C. 1197 The landing. Mouth of the Tiber. Burning of tho ships. ployed at all in those early days. They were skillful in making such weapons of war, and such simple instruments of music, as were known at the time, and they could erect build- ings, of wood, or of stone, and thus con- structed such dwellings as they needed, in their towns, and walls and citadels for defence. JEneas brought his fleet into the mouth of the Tiber, and anchored it there. He him- self, and all his followers were thoroughly weary of their wanderings, and hoped that they were now about to land where they should find a permanent abode. The number of ships and men that had formed the expedi- tion at the commencement of the voyage, was very large ; but it had been considerably di- minished by the various misfortunes and acci- dents incident to such an enterprise, and the remnant that was left longed ardently for rest. Some of the ships took fire, and were burned at their moorings in the Tiber, immediately after the arrival of the expedition. It was said that they were set on fire by the wives and mothers belonging to the expedition, — who wished, by destroying the ships, to ren- der it impossible for the fleet to go to sea again. B.C. 1197.] Landin G IN Latium. 138 Italy in ancient days. An embassy. However tliis may be, ^ueas was very strongly disposed to make the beautiful region whicli he now saw before Mm, his final home. The country, in every aspect of it, was allur- ing in the highest degree. Level plains, va- ried here and there by gentle elevations, ex- tended around him, all adorned with groves and flowers, and exhibiting a luxuriance in the verdure of the grass and in the foliage of the trees that was perfectly enchanting to the sea-weary eyes of his company of mariners. In the distance, blue and beautiful moi'ntains bounded the horizon, and a soft, warn sum- mer haze floated over the whole scene, bath- ing the landscape in a rich mellow lii-?ht pe- culiar to Italian skies. As soon as the disembarkation was eTected, lines of encampment were marked oiit, at a suitable place on the shore, and such simple fortifications as were necessary for defsnce in such a case, were thrown up. Jj]n&'?.s dis- patched one party in boats to explore the va- rious passages and channels which forr.ied the mouth of the river, perhaps in order to be prepared to make good his escape a^^ain, to 8ea, in case of any sudden or extraordinary danger. Another party were employed in 134 Romulus. [B.C. 1197. Sacrifices offered. Map of Latium. erecting altars, and preparing for sacrifices and other religious celebrations, designed on the part of ^neas to propitiate the deities of the place, and to inspire his men with reli- gious confidence and trust. He also imme- diately proceeded to organize a party of re- connoiterers who were to proceed into the in- terior, to explore the country and to commu- nicate with the inhabitants. Map of Latium. B.C. 1197.] Landing in Latium. 135 Reconnoitring the country. King Latinus. The party of reconnoiterers thus sent out tollowed up the banks of the river, and made excursions in various directions across the fields and plains. They found that the coun- try was everywhere verdant and beautiful, and that it was covered in the interior with scattered hamlets and towns. They learned the name of the king, and also that of the city which he made his capitol. Latinus himself at the same time, heard the tidings of the ar- rival of these strangers. His first impulse was immediately to make an onset upon them with all his forces, and drive them away from his shores. On farther inquiry, however, he learned that they were in a distressed and suffering condition, and from the descriptions which were given him of their dress and de- meanor he concluded that they were Greeks. This idea awakened in his mind some appre- hension ; for the Greeks were then well known throughout the world, and were regarded everywhere as terrible enemies. Besides his fears, his pity and compassion were awakened , too, in some degree ; and he was on the whole for a time quite at a loss to know what course to pm'sue in respect to the intruders. Li the mean time ^neas concluded to send 136 - Udmulqs. [B.C. 1197. The embassy come to the capital. an embassy to Latinus to explain the circum- stances under wliich he had been induced to land so large a party on the Italian coast. He accordingly designated a considerable number of men to form this embassy, and giving to some of the number his instructions as to what they were to say to Latinus, he committed to the hands of tho others a large number of gifts which they were to carry and present to him. These gifts consisted of weap- ons elaborately finished, vessels of gold or silver, embroidered garments, and such other articles as were customarily employed in those days as propitiatory offerings in such emergencies. The embassy when all was ar- ranged proceeded to the Latian capital. When they came in sight of it they found that it was a spacious city, with walls around it, and turrets and battlements within, rising here and there above the roofs of the dwel- lings. Outside the gates a portion of the po]3ulation were assembled busily engaged in games, and in various gymnastic and eques- trian performances. Some were driving fu- riously in cliariots around great circles marked out for the course. Others were practicing feats of horsemanship, or running races upon 13,0.1197.] Landing IN Latium. 137 The embassadors are admitted to an audience. fleet chargers. Others still were practicing with darts, or bows and arrows, or javelins ; either to test and improve their individual skill, or else to compete with each other for victory or for a prize. The embassadors paused when thej came in view of this scene, and waited until intelligence could be sent in to the monarch, informing him of their ar- rival. Latinus decided immediately to admit the embassy to an audience, and they were ac- cordingly conducted into the city. They were led, after entering by the gates, through va- rious streets, until they came at length to a large public edifice, which seemed to be, at the same time, palace, senate-house, and cita- del. There were to be seen, in the avenues which led to this edifice, statues of old war- riors, and various other martial decorations. There were many old trophies of former vic- tories preserved here, such as anus, and char- lots, and prows of ships, and crests, and great bolts and bars taken from the gates of con- quered cities, — all old, war-worn, and now useless, but preserved as memorials of brav ery and conquest. The Trojan embassy, pass- ing through and among these trophies, as they 138 RoMULQs. [B.C. 1197. Their address to king Latinus. stood or hung in the halls and vestibules of the palace, were at length ushered into the presence of Latinus the king. Here, after the usual ceremonies of intro- duction were performed, they delivered the message which ^neas had intrusted to them. They declared that they had not landed on Latinus's shore with any hostile intent. They had been driven away, they said, from their own homes, by a series of dire calamities, which had ended, at last, in the total destruc- tion of their native city. Since then they had been driven to and fro at the mercy of the winds and waves, exposed to every con- ceivable degree of hardship and danger. Their landing finally in the dominions of La- tinus in Italy, was not, they confessed, wholly undesigned, for Latium had been divinely indicated to them, on their way, as the place destined by the decrees of heaven for their final home. Following these indications, they had sought the shores of Italy and the mouths of the Tiber, and having succeeded in reach- ing them, had landed ; and now JEneas, their commander, desired of the king that he would allow them to settle in his land in peace, and that he would set apart a portion of his terri- B.C. 1197.] Landing in Latitjm. 139 Latiniis accedes to JSneas's requests. toiy for them, and give them leave to build a city. The effect produced upon the mind of La- tinus by the appearance of these embassadors, and by the communication which they made to him, proved to be highly favorable. He received the presents, too, which they had brought him, in a very gracious manner, and appeared to be much pleased with them. He had heard, as would seem, rumors of the de- struction of Troy, and of the departure of -^neas's squadron ; for a long time had been consumed by the wanderings of the expedi- tion along the Mediterranean shores, so that some years had now elapsed since the de- struction of Troy and the first sailing of the fleet. In a word, Latinus soon determined to accede to the proposals of his visitors, and he concluded with ^neas a treaty of alliance and friendship. He designated a spot where the new city might be built, and all things were thus amicably settled. There was one circumstance which exerted a powerful influence in promoting the estab- lishment of friendly relations between Latinus and the Trojans, and that was, that Latinus was engaged, at the time of ^neas's arrival, MO E o M u L u s. [B.C. 1197. Proposal of marriage. Lavinia and Turnus. in a war with the Kutulians, a nation tliat inhabited a country lying south of Latium and on the coast. Latinns thought that by making the Trojans his friends, he should be able to enlist them as his auxiliaries in this war. ^neas made no objection to this, and it was accordingly agreed that the Trojans, in return for being received as friends, and allowed to settle in Latium, were to join with their protectors in defending the country, and were especially to aid them in prosecuting the existing war. In a short time a still closer alliance was formed between ^neas and Latinus, an alli- ance which in the end resulted in the acces- sion of JEneas to the throne of Latinus. Lati- nus had a daughter named Lavinia. She was an only child, and was a princess of extraor- dinary merit and beauty. The name of the queen, her mother, the wife of Latinus, was Amata. Amata had intended her daughter to be the wife of Turnus, a young prince of great character and promise, who had been brought up in Latinus's court. Turnus was, in fact, a distant relative of Amata, and the plan of the queen was that he should maiTy Lavinia, and in the end succeed with hei, t