[Sidenote: Constantine.]

The empire is again united under Constantine, after bloody civil wars, A.D. 324, thirty-four years after Diocletian had divided his power and provinces with his associates. He renews the war against the Goths and Sarmatians, severely chastises them as well as other enemies of Rome, and dies leaving the empire to his son, unequal to the task imposed upon him. The inglorious reigns of Constantius and Gallus only enabled the barbarians to renew their strength. They are signally defeated by the Emperor Julian, A.D. 360, who alone survives of all the heirs of Constantius Chlorus. The studious Julian, who was supposed to be a mere philosopher, proves himself to be one of the most warlike of all the emperors. He repulses the Alemanni, defeats the Franks, delivers Gaul, and carries the Roman eagles triumphantly beyond the Rhine. His victories delay the ruin of the empire; they do not result in the conquest of Germany, and he dies, mortally wounded, not by a German spear, but by the javelin of a Persian horseman, beyond the Tigris, in an unsuccessful enterprise against Sapor, A.D. 363.

[Sidenote: New invasions of barbarians.]

After his death the ravages of the barbarians became still more fearful. The Alemanni invade Gaul, A.D. 365, the Persians recover Armenia, the Burgundians appear upon the Rhine, the Saxons attack Britain, and spread themselves from the Wall of Antoninus to the shores of Kent, the Goths prepare for another invasion; in Africa there is a great revolt under Firmus. The empire is shaken to its centre.

Valentinian, a soldier of fortune, and an able general, now wears the imperial purple. Like Diocletian, he finds himself unable to bear the burdens of his throne. He elects an associate, divides the empire, and gives to Valens the eastern provinces. All idea of reigning in peace, and giving the reins to pleasure, has vanished from the imperial mind. The office of emperor demands the severest virtues and the sternest qualities and the most incessant labors. "Uneasy sits the head that wears a crown," can now be said of all the later emperors. The day is past for enjoyment or for pomp. The emperor's presence is required here and there. Valentinian rules with vigor, and gains successes over the barbarians. He is one of the great men of the day. He reserves to himself the western provinces, and fixes his seat at Milan, but cannot preserve tranquillity, and dies in a storm of wrath, by the bursting of a blood-vessel, while reviling the ambassadors of the Quadi, A.D. 375, at the age of fifty-four.

[Sidenote: Disasters of Valens.]

His brother, Valens, Emperor of the East, had neither his talents nor energy; and it was his fate to see the first great successful inroads of the Goths. For thirty years the Romans had secured their frontiers, and the Goths had extended their dominions. Hermanric, the first historic name of note among them, ruled over the entire nation, and had won a series of brilliant victories over other tribes of barbarians after he was eighty years of age. His dominions extended from the Danube to the Baltic, including the greater part of Germany and Scythia. In the year 366 his subjects, tempted by the civil discords which Procopius occasioned, invaded Thrace, but were resisted by the generals of Valens. The aged Hermanric was exasperated by the misfortune, and made preparations for a general war, while the emperor himself invaded the Gothic territories. For three years the war continued, with various success, on the banks of the Danube. Hermanric intrusted the defense of his country to Athanaric, who was defeated in a bloody battle, and a hollow peace was made with Victor and Arintheus, the generals of Valens. The Goths remained in tranquillity for six years, until, driven by the Scythians, who emerged in vast numbers from the frozen regions of the north, they once more advanced to the Danube and implored the aid of Valens. [Footnote: See Ammianus Marcellinus, b. xxi., from which Gibbon has chiefly drawn his narratives.] The prayers of the Goths were answered, and they were transported across the Danube—a suicidal act of the emperor, which imported two hundred thousand warriors, with their wives and children, into the Roman territories. The Goths retained their arms and their greed, and pretended to settle peaceably in the province of Mosia. But they were restless and undisciplined barbarians, and it required the greatest adroitness to manage them in their new abodes. They were insolent and unreasonable in their demands and expectations, while the ministers of the emperor were oppressive and venal. Difficulties soon arose, and, too late, it was seen by the emperor that he had introduced most dangerous enemies into the heart of the empire.

[Sidenote: Fritigern, leader of the Goths.]

[Sidenote: Death of the Emperor Valens.]

The great leader of these Goths was Fritigern, who soon kindled the flames of war. He united under his standard all the various tribes of his nation, increased their animosities, and led them to the mouth of the Danube. There they were attacked by the lieutenants of Valens, and a battle was fought without other result than that of checking for a time the Gothic progress. But only for a time. The various tribes of barbarians, under the able generalship of Fritigern, whose cunning was equal to his bravery, advanced to the suburbs of Hadrianople. Under the walls of that city was fought the most disastrous battle, A.D. 378, to the imperial cause which is recorded in the annals of Roman history. The emperor himself was slain with two thirds of his whole army, while the remainder fled in consternation. Sixty thousand infantry and six thousand cavalry were stretched in death upon the bloody field—one third more than at the fatal battle of Cannae. The most celebrated orator of the day, though a Pagan, [Footnote: Libanius of Antioch.] pronounced a funeral oration on the vanquished army, and attributed the catastrophe, not to the cowardice of the legions, but the anger of the gods. "The fury of the Goths," says St. Jerome, "extended to all creatures possessed of life: the beasts of the field, the fowls of the air, and the fishes of the sea." The victors, intoxicated with their first great success, invested Hadrianople, where were deposited enormous riches. But they were unequal to the task of taking so strong a city; and when the inhabitants aroused themselves in a paroxysm of despair, they raised the siege and departed to ravage the more unprotected West. Laden with spoils, they retired to the western boundaries of Thrace, and thence scattered their forces to the confines of Italy. From the shores of the Bosphorus to the Julian Alps nothing was to be seen but conflagration and murders and devastations. Churches were turned into stables, palaces were burned, works of priceless value were destroyed, the relics of martyrs were desecrated, the most fruitful provinces were overrun, the population was decimated, the land was overgrown with forests, cultivation was suspended, and despair and fear seized the minds of all classes. So great was the misfortune of the Illyrian provinces that they never afterward recovered, and for ten centuries only supplied materials for roving robbers. The empire never had seen such a day of calamity.

[Sidenote: Desperate condition of the Romans.]

This melancholy state of affairs, so desperate and so general, demanded a deliverer and a hero; but where was a hero to be found? Nothing but transcendent ability could now arrest the overthrow. Who should succeed to the vacant throne of Valens?

[Sidenote: Theodosius.]

[Sidenote: His character and illustrious deeds.]

The Emperor Gratian, who wielded the sceptre of Valentinian in the West, in this alarming crisis, cast his eyes upon an exile, whose father had unjustly suffered death under his own sanction three years before. This man was Theodosius, then living in modest retirement on his farm in Spain, near Valladolid, as unambitious as David among his sheep, as contented as Cincinnatus at the plough. Great deliverers are frequently selected from the most humble positions; but no world hero, in ancient or modern times, is more illustrious than Theodosius for modesty and magnanimity united with great abilities. No man is dearer to the Church than he, both for his services and his virtues. The eloquent Flechier has emblazoned his fame, as Bossuet has painted the Prince of Conde. Even Gibbon lays aside his sneers to praise this great Christian Emperor, although his character was not free from stains. He modestly but readily accepted the vacant sceptre and the conduct of the Gothic war. He was thirty-three years of age, in the pride of his strength, and well instructed in liberal pursuits. No better choice could have been made by Gratian. He was as prudent as Fabius, as magnanimous as Richard, as persevering as Alfred, as comprehensive as Charlemagne, as beneficent as Henry IV., as full of resources as Frederic II. One of the greatest of all the emperors, and the last great man who swayed the sceptre of Trajan his ancestor, his reign cannot but be too highly commended, living in such an age, exposed to so many dangers, invested with so many difficulties. He was the last flickering light of the expiring monarchy, beloved and revered by all classes of his subjects. "The vulgar gazed with admiration on the manly beauty of his face and the graceful majesty of his person, which they were pleased to compare with the pictures and medals of the Emperor Trajan; while intelligent observers discovered, in the qualities of the heart and understanding, a more important resemblance to the best and greatest of the Roman emperors." [Footnote: Gibbon, chap. xxvi.]

Mr. Long, of Oxford, in a fine notice of Theodosius, thinks that the praises of Gibbon are extravagant, and that the emperor was probably a voluptuary and a persecutor. But Gibbon is not apt to praise the favorites of the Church. Tillemont presents him in the same light as Gibbon. [Footnote: Tillemont, Hist, des Emp. vol. v.] A man who could have submitted to such a penance as Ambrose imposed for the slaughter of Thessalonica, could not have been cast in a different mould from old David himself. For my part I admire his character and his deeds.

[Sidenote: Defeat of the Goths.]

Soon as he was invested with the purple, he gave his undivided energies to the great task intrusted to him; but he never succeeded in fully revenging the battle of Hadrianople, which was one of the decisive battles of the world in its ultimate effects. He had the talents and the energy and the prudence, but he was beset with impossibilities. Still, he staved off ruin for a time. The death of Fritigern unchained the passions of the barbarians, and they would have been led to fresh revolts had they not submitted to the authority of Athanaric, whom the emperor invited to his capital and feasted at his table, and astonished by his riches and glory. The Visigoths, won by the policy or courtesy of Theodosius, became subjects of the empire. The Ostrogoths, who had retired from the provinces of the Danube four years before, returned recruited with a body of Huns, and crossed the Danube to assail the Roman army, but were defeated by Theodosius; and a treaty was made with them, by which they were settled in Phrygia and Lydia. Forty thousand of them were kept in the service of the emperor; but they were doubtful allies, as subsequent events proved, even in the lifetime of the magnanimous emperor. [Footnote: Zosimus, i. 4.]

[Sidenote: Honorius and Arcadius.]

Theodosius died at Milan in the arms of Ambrose, A.D. 395, and with his death the real drama of the fall of Rome begins. His empire was divided between his two sons, Honorius and Arcadius, who were unworthy or unequal to maintain their great inheritance. The barbarians, released from the restraint which the fear of Theodosius imposed, recommenced their combinations and their ravages, while the soldiers of the empire were dispirited and enervated. About this time they threw away their defensive armor, not able to bear the weight of the cuirass and the helmet; and even the heavy weapons of their ancestors, the short sword and the pilum, were supplanted by the bow,—a most remarkable retrograde in military art. Without defensive armor, not even the shield, they were exposed to the deadly missiles of their foes, and fled at the first serious attacks, especially of cavalry, in which the Goths and Huns excelled.

[Sidenote: Alaric, king of the Visigoths.]

History has taken but little notice of the leaders of the various tribes of barbarians until Alaric appeared, the able successor of Fritigern. He belonged to the second noblest family of his nation, and first appears in history as a general of the Gothic auxiliaries in the war of Theodosius against Eugenius, A.D. 394. In 396, stimulated by anger or ambition, or the instigation of Rufinus, [Footnote: Socrates, Eccles. Hist., vii. 10.] he invaded Greece at the head of a powerful body, and devastated the country. He descended from the plains of Macedonia and Thessaly, and entered the classic land, which for a long time had escaped the ravages of war, through the pass of Thermopylae. Degenerate soldiers, half armed, now defended the narrow passage where three hundred heroes had once arrested the march of the Persian hosts. But Greece was no longer Greece. The soldiers fled as Alaric advanced, and the fertile fields of Phocis and Boeotia were at once covered with hostile and cruel barbarians, who massacred the men and ravished the women in all the villages through which they passed. Athens purchased her preservation by an enormous ransom. Corinth, Argos, Sparta, yielded without a blow, but did not escape the fate of vanquished cities. Their palaces were burned, their works of art destroyed, their women subjected to indignities which were worse than death, and their families were enslaved. [Footnote: Gibbon, chap. xxx.]

[Sidenote: Succeses of the Goths.]

Only one hope remained to the feeble and intimidated Arcadius, and that was the skill and courage of Stilicho, by birth a Vandal, but who had risen in the imperial service until he was virtually intrusted by Theodosius with the guardianship of his sons and of the empire. He was the lieutenant of Honorius, who had espoused his daughter, but summoned by the dangers of Arcadius, he advanced to repulse the invaders of Greece, who had not met with any resistance from Thermopylae to Corinth. A desperate campaign followed in the woody country where Pan and the Dryads were fabled to reside in the olden times. The Romans prevailed, and Alaric was in imminent peril of annihilation, but was saved by the too confident spirit of Stilicho, and his indulgence in the pleasures of the degenerate Greeks. He effected his release by piercing the lines of his besiegers and performing a rapid march to the Gulf of Corinth, where he embarked his soldiers, his captives, and his spoil, and reached Epirus in safety, from which he effected a treaty with the ministers of Arcadius, which he never intended to keep, and was even made master- general of Eastern Illyricum. Successful war brings irresistible eclat equally among barbarians and civilized nations. There is no fame like the glory of a warrior. Poets and philosophers drop their heads in the presence of great military chieftains; and those people who rest their claims to the gratitude or the admiration of the world on their intellectual and moral superiority, are among the first to yield precedence to conquering generals, whether they are ignorant, or unscrupulous, or haughty, or ambitious. The names of warriors descend from generation to generation, while the benefactors of mind are forgotten or depreciated. Who can wonder at military ambition when success in war has been uniformly attended with such magnificent rewards, from the times of Pompey and Caesar to those of Marlborough and Napoleon?

The Gothic robber and murderer was rewarded by his nation with all the power and glory it could bestow. He was made a king, and was assured of unlimited support in all his future enterprises.

[Sidenote: Danger of Italy.]

He cast his eyes on Italy, for many generations undefiled by the presence of a foreign enemy, and enriched with the spoils of three hundred triumphs. He marched from Thessalonica, through Pannonia to the Julian Alps; passed through the defiles of those guarded mountains, and appeared before the walls of Aquileia, one of the most important cities of Northern Italy, enriched by the gold mines of the neighboring Alps, and a prosperous trade with the Illyrians and Pannonians. Here the great Julius had made his head-quarters when he made war upon Illyria, and here the younger Constantine was slain. It was the capital of Venetia, and had the privilege of a mint. It was the ninth city of the whole empire, inferior in Italy to Rome, Milan, and Capua alone. It was situated on a plain, and was strongly fortified with walls and towers. And it seems to have resisted the attacks of Alaric, who retired to the Danube for reinforcements for a new campaign.

[Sidenote: Stilicho commands the Romans.]

The Emperor Honorius, weak, timid, and defenseless at Milan, was overwhelmed with fear, and implored the immediate assistance of his only reliable general. Stilicho responded to the appeal, and appreciated the danger. He summoned from every quarter the subjects or the allies of the emperor. The fortresses of the Rhine were abandoned; the legions were withdrawn from Britain; the Alani were enlisted as auxiliaries, and Stilicho advanced to the relief of his fugitive sovereign, who had fled from Milan to a town in Piedmont, just in time to rescue him from the grasp of Alaric, who, in his turn, became besieged by the troops which issued from all the passes of the Alps. The Goths were attacked in their intrenchments at Pollentia, and were obliged to retreat, leaving the spoils of Corinth and Argos, and even the wife of Alaric. The poet Claudian celebrated the victory as greater than even that achieved by Marius over the Cimbri and Teutones. The defeated Goth, however, rose superior to misfortune and danger. He escaped with the main body of his cavalry, broke through the passes of the Apennines, and spread devastation on the fruitful fields of Tuscany, and was resolved to risk another battle for the great prize which he coveted—the possession of Rome itself. He was, however, foiled by Stilicho, who purchased the retreat of the enemy for forty thousand pounds of gold. But the Goths respected no treaties. Scarcely had they crossed the Po, before their leader resolved to seize Verona, which commanded the passes of the Rhaetian Alps. Here he was again attacked by Stilicho, and suffered losses equal to those incurred at Pollentia, and was obliged to retreat from Italy, A.D. 404.

[Sidenote: Infatuation of the Romans.]

The conqueror was hailed with joy and gratitude; too soon succeeded by envy and calumny, as is usual with benefactors in corrupt times. The retreat of Alaric was regarded as a complete deliverance; and the Roman people abandoned themselves to absurd rejoicings, gladiatorial shows, and triumphant processions. In the royal chariots, side by side with the emperor, Stilicho was seated, and the procession passed under a triumphal arch which commemorated the complete destruction of the Goths. For the last time, the amphitheatre of Rome was polluted with the blood of gladiators, for Honorius, exhorted by the poet Claudian, abolished forever the inhuman sacrifices.

[Sidenote: New hordes of barbarians.]

[Sidenote: Devastation of Gaul.]

Yet scarcely was Italy delivered from the Goths, before an irruption of Vandals, Suevi, and Burgundians, under Rodogast or Rhadagast, two hundred thousand in number of fighting men, beside an equal number of women and children, issued from the coast of the Baltic. One third of these crossed the Alps, the Po, and the Apennines, ravaged the cities of Northern Italy, and laid siege to Florence, which was reduced to its last necessity, when the victor of Pollentia appeared beneath its walls, with the last army which the empire could furnish, and introduced supplies. Moreover, he surrounded the enemy in turn with strong intrenchments, and the barbaric host was obliged to yield. The leader Rodogast was beheaded, and the captives were sold as slaves. Stilicho, a second time, had delivered Italy; but one hundred thousand barbarians still remained in arms between the Alps and the Apennines. Shut out of Italy, they invaded Gaul, and never afterward retreated beyond the Alps. Gaul was then one of the most cultivated of the Roman provinces; the banks of the Rhine were covered with farms and villas, and peace and plenty had long accustomed the people to luxury and ease. But all was suddenly changed, and changed for generations. The rich corn-fields and fruitful vineyards became a desert. Mentz was destroyed and burned. Worms fell after an obstinate siege, and experienced the same fate. Strasburg, Spires, Rheims, Tournay, Arras, Amiens, passed under the German yoke, and the flames of war spread over the seventeen provinces of Gaul. The country was completely devastated, and all classes experienced a remorseless rigor. Bishops, senators, and virgins were alike enslaved. No retreat was respected, and no sex or condition was spared. Gaul ceased to exist as a Roman province.

[Sidenote: Assassination of Stilicho.]

Italy, however, had been for a time delivered, and by the only man of ability who remained in the service of the emperor. He might possibly have checked the further progress of the Goths, had the weak emperor intrusted himself to his guidance. But imperial jealousy, and the voice of faction, removed forever this last hope of Rome. The frivolous Senate which he had saved, and the timid emperor whom he had guarded, were alike demented. The savior of Italy was an object of fear and hatred, and the assassin's dagger, which cut short his days, inflicted a fatal and suicidal blow upon Rome herself.

[Sidenote: Alaric ravages Italy.]

[Sidenote: Rome without defenders.]

The Gothic king, in his distant camp on the confines of Italy, beheld with undissembled joy, the intrigues and factions which deprived the emperor of his best defender, and which placed over his last army incompetent generals. So, hastening his preparations, he again descends like an avalanche upon the plains of Italy. Aquileia, Altinum, Concordia, and Cremona, yielded to his arms, and increased his forces. He then ravaged the coasts of the Adriatic; and, following the Flaminian way, crossed the passes of the Apennines, ravaged the fertile plains of Umbria, and reached without obstruction the city which for six hundred years had not been violated by the presence of a foreign enemy. But Rome was not what she was when Hannibal led his Africans to her gates. She was surrounded with more extensive fortifications, indeed, and contained within her walls, which were twenty-one miles in circuit, a large population. But where were her one hundred and fifty thousand warriors? Where were even the three armies drawn out in battle array, that had confronted the Carthaginian leader? She could boast of senators who traced their lineage to the Scipios and the Gracchi; she could enumerate one thousand seven hundred and eighty palaces, the residence of wealthy and proud families, many of which were equal to a town, including within their precincts, markets, hippodromes, temples, fountains, baths, porticoes, groves, and aviaries; she could tell of senatorial incomes of four thousand pounds of gold, about eight hundred thousand dollars yearly, without computing the corn, oil, and wine, which were equal to three hundred thousand dollars more—men so rich that they could afford to spend five hundred thousand dollars in a popular festival, and this at a time when gold was worth at least eight times more than its present value; she could point with pride to her Christian saints, one of whom, the illustrious Paula, the friend of St. Jerome, was the sole proprietor of the city of Nicopolis, which Augustus had founded to commemorate his victory over Antony; she could count two millions of inhabitants, crowded in narrow streets, and four hundred thousand pleasure-seekers who sought daily the circus or the theatre, and three thousand public female dancers, and three thousand singers who sought to beguile the hours of the lazy rabble who were fed at the public expense, and who, for a small copper coin, could wash their dirty bodies in the marble baths of Diocletian and Caracalla; but where were her defenders—where were her legions?

[Sidenote: Alaric beseiges Rome.]

[Sidenote: Disgraceful terms of peace.]

The day of retribution had come, and there was no escape. Alaric made no efforts to storm the city, but quietly sat down and inclosed the wretched citizens with a cordon through which nothing could force its way. He cut off all communications with the country, intercepted the navigation of the Tiber, and commanded the twelve gates. The city, unprovided for a siege, and never dreaming of such a calamity, soon felt all the evils of famine, to which those of pestilence were added. The most repugnant food was eagerly devoured, and even mothers are said to have tasted the flesh of their murdered children. Thousands perished daily in the houses, and the public sepulchres infected the air. Despair at last seized the haughty citizens, and they begged the clemency of the Gothic king. He derided the ambassadors who were sent to treat, and insulted them with rude jests. At last he condescended to spare the lives of the people, on condition that they gave up all their gold and silver, all their precious movables, and all their slaves of barbaric birth. More moderate terms were afterward granted; but the victor did not retreat until he had loaded his wagons with more wealth and more liberated captives than the Romans had brought from both Carthage and Antioch. He retired to the fertile fields of Tuscany to make negotiations with Honorius; and it was only on condition that he were appointed master-general of the armies of the emperor, with an annual subsidy of corn and money, and the free possession of the provinces of Dalmatia, Noricum, and Venetia, for the seat of his kingdom, that he would grant peace to the emperor, who had entrenched himself at Ravenna. These terms were disregarded, and once more Alaric turned his face to Rome. He took possession of Ostia, one of the most stupendous works of Roman magnificence, and the port of Rome secured, the city was once again at his mercy. Again the Senate, fearful of famine and impelled by the populace, consented to the demands of the conqueror. He nominated Atticus, prefect of the city, emperor instead of the son of Theodosius, and received from him the commission of master- general of the armies of the West.

[Sidenote: Alaric takes Rome.]

[Sidenote: The miseries of the Romans.]

The new emperor had a few days of prosperity, and the greater part of Italy submitted to his rule, backed by the Gothic forces. But he was after all a mere puppet in the hands of Alaric, who used him as a tool, and threw him aside when it suited his purposes. Atticus, after a brief reign, was degraded, and renewed negotiations took place between Alaric and Honorius. The emperor, having had a temporary relief, broke finally with the barbarians, who held Italy at their mercy, and Alaric, vindictive and indignant, once again set out for Rome, now resolved on plunder and revenge. In vain did the nobles organize a defense. Cowardice and treachery opened the Salarian gate. No Horatius kept the bridge. No Scipio arose in the last extremity. In the dead of night the Gothic trumpet rang unanswered in the streets. The Queen of the World, the Eternal City, was the prey of savage soldiers. For five days and nights she was exposed to every barbarity and license. Only the treasures collected in the churches of St. Peter and St. Paul were saved. Although the captor had promised to spare the lives of the people, a cruel slaughter was made, and the streets were filled with the dead. Forty thousand slaves were let loose by the bloody conquerors to gratify their long-stifled passions of lust and revenge. The matrons and virgins of Rome were—exposed to every indignity, and suffered every insult. The city was abandoned to pillage, and the palaces were stripped even or their costly furniture. Sideboards of massive silver, and variegated wardrobes of silk and purple, were piled upon the wagons. The works of art were destroyed or injured. Beautiful vases were melted down for the plate. The daughters and wives of senatorial families became slaves—such as were unable to purchase their ransom. Italian fugitives thronged the shores of Africa and Syria, begging daily bread. They were scattered over various provinces, as far as Constantinople and Jerusalem. The whole empire was filled with consternation. The news made the tongue of old St. Jerome to cleave to the roof of his mouth in his cell at Bethlehem, which even was besieged with beggars. "For twenty years," cried he, "Roman blood has been flowing from Constantinople to the Julian Alps. Scythia, Thrace, Macedonia, Dacia, Epirus, Dalmatia, Achaia, the two Pannonias," yea, he might have added, Gaul, Britain, Spain, and Italy, "all belong to the barbarians. Sorrow, misery, desolation, despair, death, are everywhere. What is to be seen but one universal shipwreck of humanity, from which there is no escape save on the plank of penitence." The same bitter despair came from St. Augustine. The end of the world was supposed to be at hand, and the great churchmen of the age found consolation only in the doctrine that the second coming of our Lord was at hand to establish a new dispensation of peace and righteousness on the earth, or to appear as a stern and final judge amid the clouds of heaven.

[Sidenote: The Goths in Italy.]

After six days the Goths evacuated the city they had despoiled, and advanced along the Appian way into the southern provinces of Italy, destroying ruthlessly all who opposed their march, and loading themselves with still greater spoils. The corn, wine, and oil of the country were consumed within the barbarian camp, and the beautiful villas of the coast of Campania were destroyed or plundered. The rude inhabitants of Scythia and Germany stretched their limbs under the shade of the Italian palm-trees, and compelled the beautiful daughters of the proud senators of the fallen capital to attend on them like slaves, while they quaffed the old Falernian wines from goblets of gold and gems. Nothing arrested the career of the Goths. Their victorious leader now meditated the invasion of Africa, but died suddenly after a short illness, and the world was relieved, for a while, of a mighty fear.

[Sidenote: Ravages in other provinces.]

His successor Adolphus suspended the operations of war, and negotiated with the emperor a treaty of peace, and even enlisted under his standard to chastise his enemies in Gaul. But the oppressed provincials were cruelly ravaged by their pretended friends, who occupied the cities of Narbonne, Toulouse, and Bordeaux, and spread from the Mediterranean to the Ocean. Adolphus espoused Placidia, a sister of Honorius, to the intense humiliation of the ministers of Honorius. But the marriage proved fortunate for the empire, and the Goths settled down in the fertile provinces they had conquered, and established a Gothic kingdom. Among the treasures which the Goths carried to Narbonne, was a famous dish of solid gold, weighing five hundred pounds, ornamented with precious stones, and exquisitely engraved with the figures of men and animals. But this precious specimen of Roman luxury was not to be compared with the table formed from a single emerald, encircled with three rows of pearls, supported by three hundred and sixty-five feet of gems and massive gold, which was found in the Gothic treasury when plundered by the Arabs, and which also had been one of the ornaments of a senatorial palace. [Footnote: This emerald table was probably colored glass. It was valued at five hundred thousand pieces of gold.] The favor of the Franks was, in after times, purchased with this golden dish by a Spanish monarch, who stole it back, but compensated by a present of two hundred thousand pieces of gold, with which Dagobert founded the Abbey of St. Denys. [Footnote: Gibbon, chap. xxx.]

[Sidenote: New barbaric invasions.]

[Sidenote: Permanent settlements of the Goths in Spain.]

The sack of Rome by the Goths was followed by the successful inroads of other barbaric tribes. The Suevi, the Alans, and the Vandals invaded Spain, which for four hundred years had been prosperous in all the arts of peace. The great cities of Corduba, Merida, Seville, Bracara, and Barcelona, testified to her wealth and luxury, while science and commerce both elevated and enfeebled the people. Yet no one of the Roman provinces suffered more severely. Gibbon thus quotes the language of a Spanish historian. "The barbarians exercised an indiscriminate cruelty on the fortunes of both Spaniards and Romans, and ravaged with equal fury the cities and the open country. Famine reduced the miserable inhabitants to feed on the flesh of their fellow-creatures, and pestilence swept away a large portion of those whom famine spared. Then the barbarians fixed their permanent seats in the country they had ravaged with fire and sword; Galicia was divided between the Suevi and the Vandals; the Alani were scattered over the provinces of Carthagenia and Lusitania, and Botica was allotted to the Vandals." But he adds, and this is a most impressive fact, "that the greater part of the Spaniards preferred the condition of poverty and barbarism to the severe oppressions of the Roman government." [Footnote: Gibbon, chap. xxx.]

The successors of Alaric, A.D. 419, established themselves at Toulouse, forty-three years after they had crossed the Danube, which became the seat of the Gothic empire in Gaul. About the same time the Burgundians and the Franks obtained a permanent settlement in that distracted but wealthy province, and effected a ruin of all that had been deemed opulent or fortunate.

[Sidenote: The Romans leave Britain.]

Meanwhile, Britain had been left, by the withdrawal of the legions, to the ravages of Saxon pirates, and the savages of Caledonia. The island was irrevocably lost to the empire, A.D. 409, although it was forty years before the Saxons obtained a permanent footing, and secured their conquest.

But a more savage chastisement than Rome received from the Goths—the most powerful and generous of her foes—was inflicted by the Vandals, whose name is synonymous with all that is fierce and revolting.

[Sidenote: The Vandals.]

These barbarians belonged to the great Teutonic race, although some maintain that they were of Slavonic origin. Their settlements were between the Elbe and the Vistula; and, during the reign of Marcus Aurelius, they had, with other tribes, invaded the Roman world, but were defeated by the Roman emperor. One hundred years later they settled in Pannonia, where they had a bitter contest with the Goths. Defeated by them, they sought the protection of Rome, and enlisted in the imperial armies. In 406, they crossed the Rhine and invaded Gaul, and it was not in the power of the Franks to resist them. They advanced to the very foot of the Pyrenees, inflicting every atrocity upon the Celtic and Roman inhabitants. Neither age, nor sex, nor condition was spared, and the very churches were given to the flames. They then crossed into Spain, A.D. 409, and settled in Andalusia, and under its sunny skies resumed the agricultural life they had led in Pannonia. [Footnote: Sheppard's Fall of Rome, p. 364.] The land now wore an aspect of prosperity; rich harvests covered the plains, while the hills were white with flocks. They seem to have lived in amity with the Romans, so that "there were found those who preferred freedom with poverty among the barbarians, to a life rendered wretched by taxation among their own countrymen." [Footnote: Orosious, vii. 41.] This testimony is confirmed by Salvian, who declares, "they prefer to live as freemen under the guise of captivity, rather than as captives under the guise of freedom." [Footnote: De Gub. Dei, v.] If this be true, it would seem that the rule of the barbarians was preferred to the taxation and oppression with which they were ground down by the Roman officials. And this conclusion is legitimate, when we remember the indifference and apathy that seized the old inhabitants when the empire was seriously threatened. It may have been that the irruptions of the barbarians were not regarded as so great a calamity after all, if they should break the bondage and alleviate the misery which filled the Roman world.

[Sidenote: Success of the Vandals.]

The Roman government, it would seem, [Footnote: Sheppard, p. 364.] would not tolerate the Vandals in Spain, and intrigued with the Goths, their hereditary enemies, to make an attack upon them, perhaps with the view of weakening the strength of the Goths themselves, A.D. 416. Wallia, king of the Goths, was successful, and the Vandals were worried. The Romans also sent an army to reconquer Spain from their grasp, which drove the Vandals into Andalusia. But the Vandals turned upon their enemies and entirely discomfited them, and twenty thousand men were left dead upon the field. Spain was now entirely at the mercy of these infuriated barbarians, who might have peacefully settled had it not been for the jealousy of the imperial government, which, in those days, drew upon itself evils by its own mismanagement. For two years "Vandalism" reigned throughout the peninsula, which was pillaged and sacked.

[Sidenote: Genseric.]

The king of these Vandals was Genseric, the worthy rival of Alaric and Attila, as a "scourge of God." If we may credit the writers who belonged to the people whom he humbled, [Footnote: Procopious, Bell. Vand., i. 3.] he was one of the most hideous monsters ever clothed with power. He was ambitious, subtle, deceitful, revengeful, cruel, and passionate. But he was temperate, of clear vision, and inflexible purpose.

[Sidenote: The Vandals Threaten Africa.]

He cast his eyes on Africa, the granary of Rome, and the only province which had thus far escaped the ravages of war. In the hour of triumph, and in the plenitude of power, he resolved on leaving Spain, which he held by uncertain tenure, since he was only an illegitimate son of the late monarch Gunderic, and founding a new kingdom in Africa. It was rich in farms and cities, whose capital, Carthage, had arisen from her ashes, and was once again the rival of Rome in majesty and splendor. She had even outgrown Alexandria, and her commerce was more flourishing than that of the capital of Egypt. She was even famous for schools and chairs of philosophy; but more for those arts which material prosperity ever produces.

[Sidenote: Dissensionsof Roman generals.]

There were, at that time, two distinguished generals in the service of the empire—Boniface and Aetius, the former of whom was governor of Africa. They were, unfortunately, rivals, and their dissensions and jealousies compromised the empire. United, they could have withstood, perhaps, the torrent which was about to sweep over Africa and Italy. Aetius persuaded the emperor to recall Boniface, while he advised the Count to disobey the summons, representing it as a sentence of death. Boniface put himself in the attitude of a rebel, and fearing the imperial forces, invited Genseric and his Vandals to Africa, with the proposal of an alliance and an advantageous settlement. Doubtless he was driven to this grand folly by the intrigues of Aetius.

Genseric gladly availed himself of an invitation which held out to him the richest prize in the empire. With fifty thousand warriors he landed on the coast of Africa, formed an alliance with the Moors, and became as dangerous an ally to Count Boniface, as Lord Clive was to the native princes of India. Africa was then disturbed by the schism of the Donatists, and these fanatical people were taken under the protection of the Vandals. The Moors always hated their Roman masters. With Vandals, Moors, and Donatists, leagued together, Africa was in serious danger.

[Sidenote: The Vandals invade Africa.]

The landing of the Vandals, who, of all barbarians, bore the most terrible name, was the signal of head-long flight. Consternation seized all classes of people. The gorges and the caverns of Mount Atlas were crowded with fugitives. The Vandals burned the villages through which they marched, and sacked the cities, and destroyed the harvests, and cut down the trees. The Moors swelled the ranks of the invaders, and indulged their common hatred of civilization and of Rome. Boniface, too late, perceived his mistake, and turned against the common foe; but was defeated in battle, and forced to cede away three important provinces as the price of peace, A.D. 432. But peace was not of long duration. The Vandals continually encroached upon more valuable territory. Moreover, they had been nominally converted to Christianity, and were bitter zealots of the Arian faith, and most relentlessly persecuted the Catholic Christians who adhered to the Nicene Creed.

[Sidenote: Genseric at Carthage.]

[Sidenote: Fate of the city.]

At last (439 A.D.), the storm burst out, and the world was thunderstruck with the intelligence that Genseric had seized and plundered Carthage. Suddenly, without warning, in a day looked not for, this magnificent city was plundered, and her inhabitants butchered by the most faithless and perfidious barbarians, who trampled out the dying glories of the empire. Her doom was like that pronounced upon Tyre and Sidon. The bitter cry which went up from the devastated city proclaimed the retribution of God for sins more hideous than those of Antioch or Babylon. Of all the cities of the world, Carthage was probably the wickedest—a seething caldron of impurities and abominations, the home of all the vices which disgraced humanity—so indecent and scandalous as to excite the disgust of the barbarians themselves. According to one of the authors of those times, as quoted by Sheppard, [Footnote: Salvian, De Gub. Dei, vii. 251.] "they were notorious for drunkenness, avarice, and perjury—the peculiar sins of degenerate commercial capitals. The Goths are perfidious but chaste, the Franks are liars but hospitable, the Saxons are cruel but continent; but the Africans are a blazing fire of impurity and lust; the rich are drunk with debauchery, the poor are ground down with relentless oppression, while other vices, too indecent to be named, pollute every class. Who can wonder at the fall of Roman society? What hope can there be for Rome, when barbarians are more chaste and temperate than they?"

In the sack of Carthage, the voluminous writings of Augustine, then breathing his last in prayer to God that the fate of Sodom might be averted, were fortunately preserved, and have doubtless done more to instruct, and perhaps civilize, the western nations, than all the arts and sciences of the commercial metropolis. It is singular how little remains of the commercial cities of antiquity, which we value as trophies of civilization. A few sculptured ruins are all that attest ancient pride and glory. The poems of a blind schoolmaster at Chios, and the rhapsodies of a wandering philosopher on the hills of Greece, have proved greater legacies to the world than the combined treasures of Africa and Asia Minor. Where is the literature of Carthage, except as preserved in the writings of Augustine, the influence of which in developing the character of the barbarians cannot be estimated.

[Sidenote: Renewed dangers of Rome.]

The cry of agony which went from Carthage across the Mediterranean, announced to Rome that her turn would come. She looked in vain to every quarter for assistance. Every city and province had need of their own forces. Theodoric, king of the Visigoths, was contending with Aetius; in Spain the Sueves were extending their ravages; Attila menaced the eastern provinces; the Emperor Valentinian was forced to hide in the marshes of Ravenna, and see the second sack of the imperial capital, now a prostrate power—a corpse in a winding-sheet.

[Sidenote: The Vandals in Italy.]

The Vandals landed on the Italian coast. They advanced to the Tiber's banks. The Queen of Cities wrapped around her the faded folds of her imperial purple, rent by faction, pierced with barbaric daggers, and trampled in the dust. Yet not with the dignity of her great Julius did she die. She begged for mercy, not proud and stately amid her executioners, but like a withered hag, with the wine-cup of sorceries in her hand, pale, haggard, ghastly, staggering, helpless.

[Sidenote: Sack and fall of Rome.]

The last hope of Rome was her Christian bishop, and the great Leo, who was to Rome what Augustine had been to Carthage, in his pontifical robes, hastened to the barbarians' camp. But all he could secure was the promise that the unresisting should be spared, the buildings protected from fire, and the captives from torture. Even this promise was only partially fulfilled. The pillage lasted fourteen days and fourteen nights, and all that the Goths had spared was transported to the ships of Genseric. Among the spoils were the statues of the old pagan gods which adorned the capitol, the holy vessels of the Jewish temples which Titus had brought away from Jerusalem, and the shrines and altars of the Christian churches enriched by the liberality of popes and emperors. The gilding of the capitol had cost Domitian twelve million dollars, or twelve thousand talents, but the bronze on which it was gilt was carried away. The imperial ornaments of the palace, the magnificent furniture and wardrobe of senatorial mansions, and the sideboards of massive plate, gold, silver, brass, copper, whatever could be found, were transported to the ships. The Empress Eudoxia herself was stripped of her jewels, and carried away captive with her two daughters, the only survivors of the great Theodosius. Thousands of Romans were forced upon the fleet, while wives were separated from their husbands, and children from their parents, and sold into slavery. [Footnote: Gibbon, chap. xxxvi.]

[Sidenote: The doom of Rome.]

[Sidenote: The heroism of the Pope.]

Such was the doom of Rome, A.D. 455, forty-five years after the Gothic invasion. The haughty city had met the fate she had inflicted upon her rivals. And she never would probably have arisen from her fall, but would have remained ruined and desolate, had not her great bishop, rising with the greatness of the crisis, and inspired with the old imperishable idea of national unity, which had for three hundred years sustained the crumbling empire, exclaimed to the rude spoliators, now converted to his faith, while all around him were desolation and ruin, weeping widows, ashes, groans, lamentations, bitter sorrows—nothing left but recollections, nothing to be seen but the desolation spoken of by Jeremy the prophet, as well as the Cumean Sybil; all central power subverted, law and justice by-words, literature and art crushed, vice rampant multiplying itself, the contemplative hiding in cells, the rich made slaves, women shrieking in terror, bishops praying in despair, the heart of the world bleeding, barbarians everywhere triumphant—in this mournful crisis, did Leo, the intrepid Pontiff, alone and undismayed, and concentrating within himself all that survived of the ambition and haughty will of the ancient capital, exclaim to the superstitious victors, in the spirit if not in the words of Hildebrand, "Beware, I am the successor of St. Peter, to whom God has given the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and against whose church the gates of hell cannot prevail; I am the living representative of divine power upon the earth; I am Caesar, a Christian Caesar, ruling in love, to whom all Christians owe allegiance; I hold in my hands the curses of hell, and the benedictions of heaven; I absolve all subjects from allegiance to kings; I give and take away, by divine right, all thrones and principalities of Christendom—beware how you desecrate the patrimony given me by your invisible king, yea, bow down your necks to me, and pray that the anger of God may be averted." And the superstitious conquerors wept, and bowed their faces to the dust, in reverence and in awe, and Rome again arose from her desolation—the seat of a new despotism more terrible than the centralized power of the emperors, controlling the wills of kings, priests, and people, and growing more majestic with the progress of ages; a vital and mysterious power which even the Reformation could not break, and which even now gives no signs of decay, and boldly defies, in the plenitude of spiritual power, a greater prince than he who stood in the winter time three days and nights before the gates of the castle of Canossa, bareheaded and barefooted, in abject submission to Gregory VII.

[Sidenote: Renewed invasion of barbarians.]

[Sidenote: The Huns.]

While the Vandals were thus plundering Rome, a still fiercer race of barbarians were trampling beneath their feet the deserted sanctuaries of the empire. The Huns, a Slavonic race, most hideous and revolting savages, Tartar hordes, with swarthy faces, sunken eyes, flat noses, square bodies, big heads, broad shoulders, low stature, without pity, or fear, or mercy—equally the enemies of the Romans and the Germans—races thus far incapable of civilization, now spread themselves from the Volga to the Danube, from the shores of the Caspian to the Hadriatic. They were a nomadic people, with flocks and herds, planting no seed, reaping no harvest, wandering about in quest of a living, yet powerful with their horses and darts. For fifty years after they had invaded Southern Europe, their aid was sought and secured by the rash court of Constantinople, as a counterpoise to the power of the Goths and other Germanic tribes. They were obstinate pagans, and had an invincible hatred of civilization. They had various fortunes in their migrations and wars, and experienced some terrible defeats. But they had their eyes open to the spoil of the crumbling empire—"ripe fruit" for them to pluck, as well as for the Goths and Vandals.

[Sidenote: Attila.]

The leader of the Huns at this period was Attila—a man of great astuteness and military genius, who succeeded in conquering, one after another, every existing tribe of barbarians beyond the Danube and the Rhine, and then turned his arms against the eastern empire. This was in the year 441. They ravaged Pannonia, routed two Roman armies, laid Thessaly in waste, and threatened Constantinople. The Emperor Theodosius, A.D. 446, purchased peace by an ignominious tribute, so great as to reduce many leading families to poverty. "The scourge of God" then turned his steps to the more exhausted fields of the western provinces, and invaded Gaul. The Visigoths had there established a kingdom, hostile to the Vandal power. The Huns and the Vandals united, with all the savage legions which could be collected from Lapland to the Indus, against the Goths and imperial forces under the command of Aetius. "Never," says Thierry, [Footnote: Histoire d'Attilla, vol. i. p. 141] "since the days of Xerxes, was there such a gathering of nations as now followed the standard of Attila, some five hundred thousand warriors—Huns, Alans, Gepidae, Neuvi, Geloni, Bastarnae, Heruli, Lombards, Belloniti, Rugi, some German but chiefly Asiatic tribes, with their long quivers and ponderous lances, and cuirasses of plaited hair, and scythes, and round bucklers, and short swords." This heterogeneous host, from the Sarmatian plains, and the banks of the Vistula and Niemen, extended from Basle to the mouth of the Rhine. Attila directed it against Orleans, on the Loire, an important strategic position. Aetius went to meet him, bringing all the barbaric auxiliaries he could collect—Britons, Franks, Burgundians, Sueves, Saxons, Visigoths. It was not so much Roman against barbarian, as Europe against Asia, which was now arrayed upon the plains of Champagne, for Orleans had fallen into the hands of the Huns. There, at Chalons, was fought the most decisive and bloody battle of that dreadful age, by which Europe was delivered from Asia, even as at a later day the Saracens were shut out of France by Charles Martel. "Bellum atrox, multiplex, immane, pertinax, cui simile nulla usquam narrat antiquitas." [Footnote: Jordanes.] Attila began the fight; on his left were the Ostrogoths under Vladimir, on his right were the Gepidae, while in the centre were stationed the Huns, with their irresistible cavalry. Aetius stationed the Franks and Burgundians, whose loyalty he doubted, in the centre, while he strengthened his wings, and assumed the command of his own left. The Huns, as expected, made their impetuous charge; the Roman army was cut in two; but the wings of Aetius overlapped the cavalry of Attila, and drove back his wings. Attila was beaten, and Gaul was saved from the Slavonic invaders. It is computed that three hundred thousand barbarians, on both sides, were slain—the most fearful slaughter recorded in the whole annals of war. The discomfited king of the Huns led back his forces to the Rhine, ravaging the cities and villages through which he passed, and collected a new army. The following year he invaded Italy.

[Sidenote: The Roman general Aetius.]

[Sidenote: Retreat of Attila.]

Aetius alone remained to stem the barbaric hosts. He had won one of the greatest victories of ancient times, and sought for a reward. And considering the brilliancy of his victory, and the greatness of his services, the marriage of his son with the princess Eudoxia was not an unreasonable object of ambition. But his greatness made him unpopular with the debauched court at Ravenna, and he was left without a sufficient force to stem the invasion of the Huns. Aquileia, the most important and strongly fortified city of Northern Italy, for a time stood out against the attack of the barbarians, but ultimately yielded. Fugitives from the Venetian territory sought a refuge among the islands which skirt the northern coast of the Adriatic—the haunts of fishermen and sea-birds. There Venice was born, which should revive the glory of the West, and write her history upon the waves for a thousand years. Attila had spent the spring in his attack on Aquileia, and the summer heats were unfavorable for further operations, and his soldiers clamored for repose; but, undaunted by the ravages which sickness produced in his army, he resolved to cross the Apennines and give a last blow to Rome. Leo again sought the barbarians' camp, and met with more success than he did with the Vandals. Attila consented to leave Italy in consideration of an annual tribute, and the promise of the hand of the princess Honoria, sister of the Emperor Valentinian, who, years before, in a fit of female spitefulness for having been banished to Constantinople, had sent her ring as a gage d'amour to the repulsive barbarian. He then retired to the Danube by the passes of the Alps, where he spent the winter in bacchanalian orgies and preparations for an invasion of the eastern provinces. But his career was suddenly cut off by the avenging poniard of Ildigo, a Bactrian or Burgundian princess, whom he had taken for one of his numerous wives, and whose relations he had slain.

[Sidenote: Disasters of the Huns.]

On his death, the German tribes refused longer to serve under the divided rule of his sons, and after a severe contest with the more barbarous Huns, the empire of Attila disappeared as one of the great powers of the world, and Italy was delivered forever from this plague of locusts. The battle of Netad, in which they suffered a disastrous defeat, was perhaps as decisive as the battle of Chalons. They returned to Asia, or else were gradually worn out in unavailing struggles with the Goths.

[Sidenote: The Avars.]

The Avars, a tribe of the great Turanian race, and kindred to the Huns, a few years after their retreat, crossed the Danube, established themselves between that river and the Save, invaded the Greek empire, and ravaged the provinces almost to the walls of Constantinople. It would seem from Sheppard that the Avars had migrated from the very centre of Asia, two thousand miles from the Caspian Sea, fleeing from the Turks who had reduced them to their sway. [Footnote: Sheppard, Lect. iv.] In their migration to the West, they overturned every thing in their way, and spread great alarm at Constantinople. Justinian, then an old man, A.D. 567, purchased their peace by an annual tribute and the grant of lands. In 582, the Avar empire was firmly established on the Danube, and in the valleys of the Balkan. But it was more hostile to the Slavic tribes, than to the Byzantine Greeks, who then occupied the centre and southeast of Europe, and who were reduced to miserable slavery. With the Franks, the Avars also came in conflict, and, after various fortunes, were subdued by Charlemagne. Their subsequent history cannot here be pursued, until they were swept away from the roll of the European nations. Moreover, it was not until after the fall of Rome, that they were formidable.

[Sidenote: Final disasters of the empire.]

[Sidenote: Imbecile emperors.]

The real drama of the fall of Rome closes with the second sack of the city by the Vandals, since the imperial power was nearly prostrated in the West, and shut up within the walls of Ravenna. But Italy was the scene of great disasters for twenty years after, until the last of the emperors—Augustulus Romulus; what a name with which to close the series of Roman emperors!—was dethroned by Odoacer, chief of the Heruli, a Scythian tribe, and Rome was again stormed and sacked, A.D. 476. During these twenty years, the East and the West were finally severed, and Italy was ruled by barbaric chieftains, and their domination permanently secured. Valentinian, the last emperor of the race of Theodosius, was assassinated in the year 455 (at the instigation of the Senator Maximus, of the celebrated Anician family, whose wife he had violated), a man who had inherited all the weaknesses of his imperial house, without its virtues, and under whose detestable reign the people were so oppressed with taxes and bound down by inquisitions that they preferred the barbarians to the empire. The successive reigns of Maximus, Avitus, Majorian, Severus, Anthemius, Olybrius, Glycerius, Nepos, and Augustulus, nine emperors in twenty—one years, suggests nothing but disorder and revolution. The murderer of Valentinian reigned but three months, during which Rome was sacked by the Vandals. Avitus was raised to his vacant throne by the support of the Visigoths of Gaul, then ruled by Theodoric, a majestic barbarian, and the most enlightened and civilized of all the leaders of the Gothic hosts who had yet appeared. He fought and vanquished the Suevi, who had established themselves in Spain, in the name of the emperor whom he had placed upon the throne, but he really ruled on both sides of the Alps, and Avitus was merely his puppet, and distinguished only for his infamous pleasures, although, as a general, he had once saved the empire from the Huns.

[Sidenote: Last days of Rome.]

He was in turn deposed by Count Ricimer, a Sueve, and generalissimo of the Roman armies, and Majorian, whom Ricimer thought to make a tool, was placed in his stead. But he was an able and good man, and attempted to revive the traditions of the empire, and met the fate of all reformers in a hopeless age, doubtless under the influence of Ricimer, who substituted Severus, a Lucanian, who perished by poison after a reign of four years, so soon as he became distasteful to the military subordinate, who was all-powerful at Rome, and who ruled Italy for six years without an emperor with despotic authority. During these six years Italy was perpetually ravaged by the Vandals, who landed and pillaged the coast, and then retired with their booty. Ricimer, without ships, invoked the aid of the court of Constantinople, who imposed a Greek upon the throne of Italy. Though a man of great ability, Anthemius, the new emperor, was unpopular with the Italians and the barbarians, and he, again, was deposed by Ricimer, and Olybrius, a senator of the Anician house, reigned in his stead, A.D. 472. It was then that Rome for the third time was sacked by one of her own generals. Olybrius reigned but a few months, and Glycerius, captain of his guard, was selected as his successor—an appointment disagreeable to the Greek Emperor Leo, who opposed to him Julius Nepos—a distinguished general, who succeeded in ejecting Glycerius. The Visigoths, offended, made war upon Roman Gaul. Julius sent against them Orestes, a Pannonian, called the Patrician, who turned a traitor, and, on the assassination of Julius, entered Ravenna in triumph. His son, christened Romulus, the soldiers elevated upon a shield and saluted Augustus; but as he was too small to wear the purple robe, they called him Augustulus—a bitter mockery, recalling the battle of Actium, and the foundation of Rome. He was the last of the Caesars. It was easier to make an emperor than keep him in his place. The bands of Orestes clamored for lands equal to a third of Italy. Orestes hesitated, and refused the demand. The soldiers were united under Odoacer—chief of the Heruli, a general in the service of the Patrician—one of the boldest and most unscrupulous of those mercenaries who lent their arms in the service of the government of Ravenna. The. standard of revolt was raised, and the barbarian army marched against their former master. Leaving his son in Ravenna, Orestes, himself an able general trained in the service of Attila, went forth to meet his enemy on the Lombard plains. Unable to make a stand, he shut himself up in Pavia, which was taken and sacked, and Orestes put to death. The barbarians then marched to Ravenna, which they took, with the boy who wore the purple, who was not slain as his father was, but pensioned with six thousand crowns, and sent to a Campanian villa, which once belonged to Sulla and Lucullus. The throne of the Caesars was hopelessly subverted, and Odoacer was king of Italy, and portioned out its lands to his greedy followers, A.D. 476. He was not unworthy of his high position, but his kingdom was in a sad state of desolation, and after a reign of fourteen years he was in turn supplanted by the superior genius of Theodoric, king of the Ostrogoths, under whom a new era dawned upon Italy and the West, A.D. 490.

[Sidenote: Dismemberment of the empire.]

The Roman empire was now dismembered, and the various tribes of barbarians, after a contest of two hundred years were fairly settled in its provinces.

[Sidenote: The settlement of the Ostrogoths in Italy.]

In Italy we find the Ostrogoths as a dominant power, who, migrating from the mouth of the Danube, with all the barbarians they could enlist under the standard of Theodoric, prevailed over Odoacer, and settled in Italy. The Gothic kingdom was assailed afterward by Belisarius and Narses, the great generals of Justinian, also by the Lombards under Alboin, who maintained themselves in the north of Italy.

[Sidenote: The settlement of the franks in Gaul.]

Gaul was divided among the Franks, the Burgundians, and the Visigoths, whose perpetual wars, and whose infant kingdom, it is not my object to present.

[Sidenote: The settlement of the Saxons in Britain.]

Britain was possessed by the Saxons, Spain by the Vandals, Suevi, and Visigoths, and Africa by the Vandals, while the whole eastern empire fell into the hands of the Saracens, except Constantinople, which preserved the treasures of Greek and Roman civilization, until the barbarians, elevated by the Christian religion, were prepared to ingraft it upon their own rude laws and customs.

It would be interesting to trace the various fortunes of these Teutonic tribes in the devastated provinces which they possessed by conquest. But this would lead us into a boundless field, foreign to our inquiry. It is the fall of Rome, not the reconstruction by the new races, which I seek to present. It would also be interesting to survey the old capital of the world in the hands of her various masters, pillaged and sacked by all in turn; but her doom was sealed when Alaric entered the gates which had been closed for six hundred years to a foreign enemy, and the empire fell, virtually, when the haughty city, so long a queen among the nations, yielded up her palaces as spoil. The eastern empire had a longer life, but it was inglorious when Rome was no longer the superior city.

[Sidenote: Reflections on the fall of the empire.]

The story of the fall of the grandest empire ever erected on our earth is simple and impressive. Genius, energy, and patience led to vast possessions, which were retained by a uniform policy which nothing could turn aside. Prosperity and success led to boundless self-exaggeration and a depreciation of enemies, while the vices of self-interest undermined gradually all real strength. Society became utterly demoralized and weakened, and there were no conservative forces sufficiently, strong to hold it together. Vitality was destroyed by disproportionate fortunes, by slavery, by the extinction of the middle classes, by the degradation of woman, by demoralizing excitements, by factitious life, by imperial misrule, by proconsular tyranny, by enervating vices, by the absence of elevated sentiments, by an all- engrossing abandonment to money-making and the pleasures it procured, so that no lofty appeal could be made to which the degenerate people would listen, or which they could understand. The empire was rotten to the core—was steeped in selfishness, sensuality, and frivolity, and the poison pervaded all classes and orders, and descended to the extremities of the social system. What could be done? There was no help from man. The empire was on the verge of dissolution when the barbarians came. They only gave a shock and hastened the fall. The empire was ripe fruit, to be plucked by the strongest hand.

Three centuries earlier a brave resistance would have been' made, and the barbarians would have been overthrown and annihilated or sold as slaves. But they were now the stronger, even with their rude weapons, and without the arts of war which the Romans had been learning for a thousand years. Yet they suffered prodigious losses before they became ultimately victorious. But they persevered, driven by necessity as well as the love of adventure and rapine. Wave after wave was rolled back by desperate generals; but the tide returned, and swept all away.

Fortunately, they reconstructed after they had once destroyed. They were converts of Christianity, and had sympathy with many elements of civilization. "Some solitary sparks fell from the beautiful world that was passed upon the night of their labors." These kindled a fire which has never been extinguished. They had, with all their barbarism, some great elements of character, and in all the solid qualities of the heart, were superior to the races they subdued. They brought their fresh blood into the body politic, and were alive to sentiments of religion, patriotism, and love. They were enthusiastic, hopeful, generous, and uncontaminated by those subtle vices which ever lead to ruin. They made innumerable mistakes, and committed inexcusable follies. But, after a long pilgrimage, and severely disciplined by misfortunes, they erected a new fabric, established by the beautiful union of German strength and Roman art, on the more solid foundations of Christian truth.

* * * * *

The authorities for this chapter are not numerous. They are the historians of the empire in its decline and miseries. Gibbon's history is doubtless the best in English. He may be compared with Tillemont's Hist, des Emperors. Sheppard has written an interesting and instructing book on this period, but it pertains especially to the rise of the new barbaric states. Tacitus' chapter on the Manners of the Germans should be read in connection with the wars. Gibbon quotes largely from Ammianus Marcellinus, who is the best Latin historian of the last days of Rome. Zosimus is an authority, but he is brief. Procopius wrote a history of the Vandal wars. Gregory of Tours describes the desolations in Gaul, as well as Journandes. The writings of Jerome, Augustine, and other fathers, allude somewhat to the miseries and wickedness of the times. But of all the writers on this dark and gloomy period, Gibbon is the most satisfactory and exhaustive; nor is it probable he will soon be supplanted in a field so dreary and sad.



CHAPTER XII.

THE REASONS WHY THE CONSERVATIVE INFLUENCES OF PAGAN CIVILIZATION DID NOT ARREST THE RUIN OF THE ROMAN WORLD.

[Sidenote: Nothing conservative in mere human creation.]

It is a most interesting inquiry why art, literature, science, philosophy, and political organizations, and other trophies of the unaided reason of man, did not prevent so mournful an eclipse of human glory as took place upon the fall of the majestic empire of the Romans. There can be no question that civilization achieved most splendid triumphs, even under the influence of pagan institutions. But it was not paganism which achieved these victories; it was the will and the reason of a noble race, in spite of its withering effects. It was the proud reason of man which soared to such lofty heights, and attempted to secure happiness and prosperity. These great ends were measurably attained, and a self-sufficient philosopher might have pointed to these victories as both glorious and permanent. When the eyes of contemporaries rested on the beautiful and cultivated face of nature, on commerce and ships, on military successes and triumphs, on the glories of heroes and generals, on a subdued world, on a complicated mechanism of social life, on the blazing wonders of art, on the sculptures and pictures, the temples and monuments which ornamented every part of the empire, when they reflected on the bright theories which philosophy proposed, on the truths which were incorporated with the system of jurisprudence, on the wondrous constitution which the experience of ages had framed, on the genius of poets and historians, on the whole system of social life, adorned with polished manners and the graces of genial intercourse—when they saw that all these triumphs had been won over barbarism, and had been constantly progressing with succeeding generations, it seemed that the reign of peace and prosperity would be perpetual. It is nothing to the point whether the civilization of which all people boasted, and in which they trusted, was superior or inferior to that which has subsequently been achieved by the Gothic races. The question is, Did these arts and sciences produce an influence sufficiently strong to conserve society? That they polished and adorned individuals cannot be questioned. Did they infuse life into the decaying mass? Did they prolong political existence? Did they produce valor and moral force among the masses? Did they raise a bulwark capable of resisting human degeneracy or barbaric violence? Did they lead to self- restraint? Did they create a lofty public sentiment which scorned baseness and lies? Did they so raise the moral tone of society that people were induced to make sacrifices and noble efforts to preserve blessings which had already been secured.

[Sidenote: Civilisation can only rise to a certain height by unabled reason.]

I have to show that the grandest empire of antiquity perished from the same causes which destroyed Babylon and Carthage; that all the magnificent trophies of the intellect were in vain; that the sources of moral renovation were poisoned; that nothing worked out, practically and generally, the good which was intended, and which enthusiasts had hoped; that the very means of culture were perverted, and that the savor unto life became a savor unto death. In short, it will appear from the example of Rome, that man cannot save himself; that he cannot originate any means of conservation which will not be foiled and rendered nugatory by the force of human corruption; that man, left to himself, will defeat his own purposes, and that all his enterprises and projects will end in shame and humiliation, so far as they are intended to preserve society. The history of all the pagan races and countries show that only a limited height can ever be reached, and that society is destined to perpetual falls as well as triumphs, and would move on in circles forever, where no higher aid comes than from man himself. And this great truth is so forcibly borne out by facts, that those profound and learned historians who are skeptical of the power of Christianity, have generally embraced the theory that nations must rise and fall to the end of time; and society will show, like the changes of nature, only phases which have appeared before. Their gloomy theories remind us of the perpetual swinging of a pendulum, or the endless labors of Ixion— circles and cycles of motion, but no general and universal progress to a perfect state of happiness and prosperity. And if we were not supported by the hopes which Christianity furnishes, if we adopted the pagan principles of Gibbon or Buckle, history would only confirm the darkest theories. But the history of Greece and Rome and Egypt are only chapters in the great work which Providence unfolds. They are only acts in the great drama of universal life. The history of those old pagan empires is full of instruction. In one sense, it seems mournful, but it only shows that society must be a failure under the influences which man's genius originates. This world is not destined to be a failure, although the empires of antiquity were. I fall in with the most cheerless philosophy of the infidel historians, if there is no other hope for man, as illustrated by the rise and fall of empires, than what the pagan intellect devised. But this induction is not sufficiently broad. They have too few facts upon which to build a theory. Yet the theory they advance is supported by all the facts brought out by the history of pagan countries. And this is my reason for bringing out so much that is truly glorious, in an important sense, in Roman history, to show that these glories did not, and could not, save. And the moral lesson I would draw is, that any civilization, based on what man creates or originates, even in his most lofty efforts, will fail as signally as the Grecian and the Roman, so far as the conservation of society is concerned, in the hour of peril, when corruption and degeneracy have also accomplished their work. Paganism cannot give other than temporary triumphs. Its victories are not progressive. They do not tend to indefinite and ever-expanding progress. They simply show an intellectual brilliancy, which is soon dimmed by the vapors which arise out of the fermentations of corrupt society.

[Sidenote: The virtues of the primitive races.]

[Sidenote: Decline of civilization in the ancient races.]

The question here may arise why the Greeks and Romans themselves arose from a state of barbarism to the degree of culture which has given them immortality? Why did they not remain barbarians, like the natives of Central Africa? But they belonged to a peculiar race—that great Caucasian race which, in all of its ramifications, showed superior excellences, and which, in the earliest times, seems to have cherished ideas and virtues which probably were learned from a primitive revelation. The Romans, in the early ages of the republic, were superior to their descendants in the time of the emperors in all those qualities which give true dignity to character. I doubt if there was ever any great improvement among the Romans in a moral point of view. They acquired arts as they declined in virtue. If strictly scrutinized I believe it would appear that the Roman character was nobler six hundred years before Christ than in the second century of our era. It was the magnificent material on which civilizing influences had to work that accounts for Roman greatness, in the same sense that there was a dignity in the patriarchal period of Jewish history not to be found under the reigns of the kings. The same may be said of the Greeks. The Homeric poems show a natural beauty and simplicity more attractive than the rationalistic character of the Athenians in the time of Socrates. There was a progress in arts which was not to be seen in common life. And this is true also of the Persians. They were really a greater people under Cyrus than when they reigned in Babylon. There are no records of the Indo-Germanic races which do not indicate a certain greatness of character in the earliest periods. The Germanic tribes were barbarians, but in piety, in friendship, in hospitality, in sagacity, in severe morality, in the high estimation in which women were held, in the very magnificence of superstitions, we see the traits of a noble national character. It would be difficult to show absolute degradation at any time among these people. How they came to have these grand traits in their primeval forests it is difficult to show. Certainly they were never such a people as the Africans or the Malay races, or even the Slavonic tribes. These natural elements of character extorted the admiration of Tacitus, even as the Orientals won the respect of Herodotus. It is more easy to conceive why such a people as the Greeks and Romans were, in their primitive simplicity, when they were brave, trusting, affectionate, enterprising, should make progress in arts and sciences, than why they should have degenerated after a high civilization had been reached. They made the arts and sciences. The arts and sciences did not make them. They were great before civilization, as technically understood, was born. Why they were so superior to other races we cannot tell. They were either made so, or else they must have received a revelation from above, or learned some of the great truths which by God were taught to the patriarchs. Possibly the wisdom they very early evinced had come down from father to son from the remotest antiquity. The divine savor may have leavened the whole race before history was written. With their uncorrupted and primitive habits, they had a moral force which enabled them to make great improvements. Without this force they never would have reached so high a culture. And when the moral force was spent, the civilization they created also passed away from them to other uncorrupted races. The Greeks learned from Egyptians, as Romans learned from Greeks. Civilization only reached a limited state among the Egyptians. It never advanced for three thousand years. Greek culture retrograded after the age of Pericles. There were but few works of genius produced at Rome after the Antonines. The age of Augustus saw a higher triumph of art than the age of Cato, yet the moral greatness of the Romans was more marked in the time of Cato than in that of Augustus. If moral elevation kept pace with art, why the memorable decline in morals when the genius of the Romans soared to its utmost height? The virtues of society were a soil on which art prospered, and art continued to be developed long after real vigor had fled, but only reached a certain limit, and declined when life was gone. In other words, the force of character, which the early Romans evinced, gave an immense impulse to civilization, whose fruits appeared after the glory of character was gone; but, having no soil, the tree of knowledge at last withered away. If the old civilization had a life of itself, it would have saved the race. But as it was purely man's creation, his work, it had no inherent vitality or power to save him. The people were great before the fruits of their culture appeared. They were great in consequence of living virtues, not legacies of genius. They ran the usual course of the ancient nations. The sterling virtues of primitive times produced prosperity and material greatness. Material greatness gave patronage to art and science. Art and science did not corrupt the people until they had also become corrupted. But prosperity produced idleness, pride, and sensuality, by which science, art, and literature became tainted. The corruption spread. Society was undermined, and the arts fell with the people, except such as ministered to a corrupt taste, like demoralizing pictures and inflammatory music. Why did not the arts maintain the severity of the Grecian models? Why did philosophy degenerate to Epicureanism? Why did poetry condescend to such trivial subjects as hunting and fishing? Why did, the light of truth become dim? Why were the great principles of beauty lost sight of? Why the discrepancy between the laws and the execution of them? Why was every triumph of genius perverted? It was because men, in their wickedness, were indifferent to truth and virtue. Good men had made good laws; bad men perverted them. A corrupted civilization hastened, rather than retarded the downward course, and civilization must needs become corrupt when men became so. We cannot see any progress in peoples without moral forces, and these do not originate in man. They may be retained a long time among a people; they are not natural to them. They are given to them; they are given originally by God. They are the fruit of his revelations. Neither in the wilderness nor in the crowded city are they naturally produced. A perfect state of nature, without light from Heaven, is extreme rudeness, poverty, ignorance, and superstition, where brutal passions are dominant and triumphant. The vices of savages are as fatal as the vices of cities. They equally destroy society. Place man anywhere on the earth, or under any circumstances, without religious life, and moral degradation follows. Whence comes religious life? Where did Abraham and Isaac and Jacob, those eastern herdsmen and shepherds, get their moral wisdom? Surely it was inherited from earlier patriarchs, taught them by their fathers, or given directly from God himself.

[Sidenote: Virtues of primitive life.]

The most that can be said of a primitive state of society is that it is favorable for the retention of religious and moral truth, more so than populous cities, since it has fewer temptations to excite the passions. But a savage in any country will remain a savage, unless he is elevated and taught through influences independent of himself. Hottentots make no progress. Greeks made progress, since they had moral wisdom communicated to them by their ancestors: the divine light struggled with human propensities. When outward circumstances were favorable the virtues were retained; they were not born, and these were the stimulus to all improvement; and when they were lost, all improvement that is real vanished away. Civilization is the fruit of man's genius, when man is virtuous. But it does not renovate races. It is only religion coming from God which can do this.

It would be an interesting inquiry how far the religion of the old Greeks and Romans was pure—how far it was uncontaminated by superstitions. I think it would be found on inquiry, if we had the means of definite knowledge, that all that was elevating to the character had descended from a remote antiquity, and that the superstitions with which it was blended were more recent inventions. The ancestors of the Greeks were probably more truly religious than the Greeks themselves. And as new revelations were not made by God, the primitive revelations were obscured by increasing darkness, until superstition formed the predominant element.