[]THE HISTORY OF THE COMMONWEALTH OF ROME.

CHAPTER I. Of the origin of the Romans.

ALL nations ſeem willing to derive merit from the ſplendor of their original, and where hiſtory is ſilent, they generally ſupply the defect with fable. The Romans were particularly de⯑ſirous of being thought deſcended from the gods, as if to hide the meanneſs of their real anceſtry. Aeneas, the ſon of Venus and Anchi⯑ſes, having eſcaped from the deſtruction of A. M. 2284 Troy, after many adventures and dangers, ar⯑rived in Italy, where he was kindly received by [2] Latinus, king of the Latins, who gave him his daughter Lavinia in marriage. Italy was then, as it is now, divided into a number of ſmall ſtates, independent of each other, and conſe⯑quently ſubject to frequent contentions among themſelves. Turnus, king of the Rutuli, was the firſt who oppoſed Aeneas, he having long made pretenſions to Lavinia himſelf. A war enſued, in which the Trojan hero was victori⯑ous and Turnus ſlain. In conſequence of this, Aeneas built a city, which was called Lavinium, in honour of his wife, and ſome time after, engaging in another war againſt Mezentius, one of the petty kings of the country, he was vanquiſhed in turn and died in battle, after a reign of four years. Aſcanius, his ſon, ſuc⯑ceeded to the kingdom, and to him, Silvius, a ſecond ſon, whom he had by Lavinia. It would be tedious and unintereſting to recite a dry ca⯑talogue of the kings that followed, and of whom we know little more than the names, it will be ſufficient to ſay, that the ſucceſſion con⯑tinued for near four hundred years in the family, and that Numitor, the fifteenth from Aeneas, was the laſt king of Alba.

Numitor, who took poſſeſſion of the king⯑dom in conſequence of his father's will, had a brother named Amulius, to whom were left the treaſures which had been brought from Troy. As riches but too generally prevail againſt [3] right, Amulius made uſe of his wealth to ſup⯑plant his brother, and ſoon found means to poſſeſs himſelf of the kingdom. Not content with the crime of uſurpation, he added that of murder alſo. Numitor's ſons firſt fell a ſacrifice to his ſuſpicions, and to remove all aprehenſions of being one day diſturbed in his ill got power, he cauſed Rhea Silvia, his brother's only daughter, to become a veſtal virgin, which of⯑fice obliging her to perpetual celibacy, made him leſs uneaſy as to the claims of poſterity.

His precautions, however, were all fruſtrated in the event; for Rhea Silvia going to fetch water from a neighbouring grove, was met and raviſhed by a man, whom, perhaps to pal⯑liate her offence, ſhe averred to be Mars, the god of war. Whoever this lover of hers might have been, whether ſome perſon who deceived her by aſſuming ſo great a name, or Amulius himſelf, as ſome writers are pleaſed to affirm, it matters not; certain it is, that in due time, ſhe was brought to bed of two boys, who were no ſooner born, than devoted, by the uſurper, to deſtruction. The mother was condemned to be buried alive, the uſual puniſhment for veſ⯑tals who had violated their chaſtity, and the twins were ordered to be flung into the river Tyber. It happened, however, at the time this rigorous ſentence was put into execution, that the river had more than uſually overflowed [4] its banks, ſo that the place where the children were thrown being at a diſtance from the main current, the water was too ſhallow to drown them. In this ſituation, therefore, they conti⯑nued without harm, and that no part of their preſervation might want its wonders, we are told, that they were for ſome time ſuckled there by a wolf, until Fauſtulus, the king's herdſman, finding them thus expoſed, brought them home to Acca Laurentia, his wife, who brought them up as her own. Some, however, will have it, that the nurſe's name was Lupa, which gave riſe to the ſtory of their being nou⯑riſhed by a wolf; but it is needleſs to weed out a ſingle improbability from accounts where the whole is overgrown with fable.

Romulus and Remus, the twins thus ſtrangely preſerved, ſeemed early to diſcover abilities and deſires above the meanneſs of their ſup⯑poſed original. The ſhepherds life began to diſ⯑pleaſe them, and from tending flocks, or hunt⯑ing wild beaſts, they ſoon turned their ſtrength againſt the robbers round the country, whom they often ſtript of their plunder to ſhare it among their fellow ſhepherds.

In one of theſe excurſions it was that Remus was taken priſoner by Numitor's herdſmen, who brought him before the king, and accuſed him of the very crime which he had ſo often at⯑tempted to ſuppreſs. Romulus, however, be⯑ing [5] informed by Fauſtulus of his real birth, was not remiſs in aſſembling a number of his fellow ſhepherds, in order to reſcue his brother from priſon, and force the kingdom from the hands of the uſurper. Yet being too feeble to act openly, he directed his followers to aſſemble near the place by different ways, while Remus with equal vigilance gained upon the ci⯑tizens within. Amulius thus beſet on all ſides, and not knowing what expedient to think of for his ſecurity, was during his amazement and diſ⯑traicton taken and ſlain, while Numitor, who had been depoſed forty-two years, recognized his grandſons, and was once more reſtored to the throne.

Numitor being thus in quiet poſſeſſion of the kingdom, his grandſons reſolved to build a city upon thoſe hills where they had formerly lived as ſhepherds. The king had too many obligations to them not to approve their de⯑ſign, he appointed them lands, and gave per⯑miſſion to ſuch of his ſubjects as thought pro⯑per, to ſettle in their new colony. Many of the neighbouring ſhepherds alſo, and ſuch as were fond of change, repaired to the intended city, and prepared to raiſe it. For the more ſpeedy carrying on this work, the people were divided into two parts, each of which, it was ſuppoſed would induſtriouſly emulate each other. But what was deſigned for an advantage, [6] proved nearly fatal to this infant colony; it gave birth to two factions, one preferring Ro⯑mulus, the other Remus, who themſelves were not agreed upon the ſpot where the city ſhould ſtand. To terminate this difference, they were recommended by the king, to take an omen from the flight of birds, and that he whoſe omen ſhould be moſt favourable, ſhould in all reſpects direct the other. In compliance with this advice, they both took their ſtations upon different hills; to Remus appeared ſix vultures, to Romulus, twice that number, ſo that each party thought itſelf victorious, the one having the firſt omen, the other the moſt numerous. This produced a conteſt which ended in a bat⯑tle wherein Remus was ſlain, and it is even ſaid, that he was killed by his brother, who be⯑ing provoked at his leaping contemptuouſly over the city wall, ſtruck him dead upon the ſpot, at the ſame time profeſſing, that none ſhould ever inſult his walls with impunity.

Romulus being now ſole commander, and eighteen years of age, began the foundation of a city that was one day to give laws to the world. It was called Rome, after the name of A. M. 3252 the founder, and built upon the Palatine hill, A. C. 752 on which he had taken his ſucceſsful omen. The city was at firſt almoſt ſquare, containing about a thouſand houſes. It was near a mile in compaſs, and commanded a ſmall territory [7] round it of about eight miles over. However, ſmall as it appears, it was notwithſtanding, worſe inhabited, and the firſt method made uſe of to encreaſe its numbers, was the opening a ſanctuary for all malefactors, ſlaves, and ſuch as were deſirous of novelty. Theſe came in great multitudes, and contributed to encreaſe the number of our legiſlator's new ſubjects. To have a juſt idea therefore of Rome in its infant ſtate, we have only to imagine a collection of cottages ſurrounded by a feeble wall, rather built to ſerve as a military retreat, than for the purpoſes of civil ſociety, rather filled with a tumultuous and vicious rabble, than with ſubjects bred to obedience and controll; we have only to conceive men bred to rapine, liv⯑ing in a place that merely ſeemed calculated for the ſecurity of plunder; and yet to our aſtoniſh⯑ment, we ſhall ſoon find this tumultuous con⯑courſe uniting in the ſtricteſt bonds of ſociety; this lawleſs rabble putting on the moſt ſincere regard for religion, and though compoſed of the dregs of mankind, ſetting examples to all the world of valour and of virtue.

CHAP. II. From the building of Rome to the death of Ro⯑mulus.

SCARCE was the city raiſed above its foun⯑dation, when its rude inhabitants began to think of giving ſome form to their conſtitution: their firſt object was to unite liberty and em⯑pire; to form a kind of mixt monarchy, by which all power was to be divided between the prince and the people. Romulus, by an act of great generoſity, left them at liberty to chuſe whom they would for their king, and they in gratitude, concurred to elect their founder: he was accordingly acknowledged as chief of their religion, ſovereign magiſtrate of Rome, and general of the army. Beſide a guard to attend his perſon, it was agreed that he ſhould be preceded wherever he went by twelve men, armed with axes tied up in a bundle of rods, who were to ſerve as executioners of the law, and to impreſs his new ſubjects with an idea of his authority. Yet ſtill this authority was under very great reſtrictions, as his whole power conſiſted in calling the ſenate together, in aſſembling the people, in conducting the army, when it was decreed by the other part of [9] the conſtitution, that they ſhould go to war, and in appointing the queſtors or treaſurers of the public money, officers which we may ſup⯑poſe, at that time had but very little employ⯑ment, as neither the ſoldiers nor magiſtrates received any pay.

The ſenate, which was to act as counſellors to the king, was compoſed of an hundred of the principal citizens of Rome, conſiſting of men whoſe age, wiſdom or valour, gave them a natural authority over their fellow ſubjects. The king named the firſt ſenator, and appointed him to the government of the city, when⯑ever war required the general's abſence. In this reſpectable aſſembly was tranſacted all the im⯑portant buſineſs of the ſtate, the king himſelf preſiding, altho' every queſtion was to be deter⯑mined by a majority of voices. As they were ſuppoſed to have a parental affection for the people, they were called fathers, and their deſcendants, patricians. To the patricians be⯑longed all the dignified offices of the ſtate, as well as of the prieſthood. To theſe they were ap⯑pointed by the ſenate and the people, while the lower ranks of citizens, who were thus excluded from all views of promotion for themſelves, were to expect advantages only from their valour in war, or their aſſiduity in agriculture.

The plebeians, who compoſed the third part of the legiſlature, aſſumed to themſelves the [10] power of authoriſing thoſe laws which were paſs'd by the king or the ſenate. All things relative to peace or war, to the election of magiſtrates, and even to the chuſing a king, were confirmed by their ſuffrages. In their numerous aſſemblies all enterprizes againſt the enemy were pro⯑poſed, while the ſenate had only a power of rejecting or approving their deſigns. Thus was the ſtate compoſed of three orders, each a check upon the other; the people reſolved whether the propoſals of the king were pleaſing to them, the ſenate deliberated upon the expediency of the meaſure, and the king gave vigour and ſpirit by directing the execution. But though the people by theſe regulations ſeemed in poſſeſſion of great power, yet there was one circumſtance which contributed greatly to its diminution, namely, the rights of patronage, which were lodged in the ſenate. The king, ſenſible that in every ſtate there muſt be a dependance of the poor upon the powerful, gave permiſſion to every plebeian to chuſe one among the ſenators for a patron. The bond between them was of the ſtrongeſt kind; the patron was to give protec⯑tion to his client, to aſſiſt him with his advice and fortune, to plead for him before the judge, and to reſcue him from every oppreſſion. On the other hand, the client attached himſelf to the intereſts of his patron, aſſiſted him, if poor, to portion his daughters, to pay his debts, or [11] his ranſom, in caſe of being taken priſoner. He was to follow him on every ſervice of danger; whenever he ſtood candidate for an office, he was obliged to give him his ſuffrage, and was prohibited from giving teſtimony in a court of juſtice, whenever his evidence affected the intereſts of his patron. Theſe reciprocal duties were held ſo ſacred, that any who vio⯑lated them were ever after held infamous, and excluded from all the protection of the laws: ſo that from hence we ſee the ſenate in effect poſ⯑ſeſſed of the ſuffrages of their clients, ſince all that was left the people was only the power of chuſing what patron they ſhould obey. Among a nation ſo barbarous and fierce as the firſt Romans, it was wiſe to enforce obedience, as the moſt requiſite duty.

The firſt care of the new-created king was to attend to the intereſts of religion, and to endea⯑vour to humanize his ſubjects, by the notion of other rewards and puniſhments than thoſe of human law. The preciſe form of their worſhip is unknown; but the greateſt part of the reli⯑gion of that age conſiſted in a firm reliance upon the credit of their ſoothfayers, who pre⯑tended, from obſervations on the flight of birds and the entrails of beaſts, to direct the preſent, and to dive into futurity. This pious fraud, which firſt aroſe from ignorance, ſoon became a moſt uſeful machine in the hands of [12] government. Romulus, by an expreſs law, com⯑manded, that no election ſhould be made, no enterprize undertaken, without firſt conſulting the ſoothſayers. With equal wiſdom he ordained, that no new divinities ſhould be introduced into public worſhip, that the prieſthood ſhould continue for life, and that none ſhould be eleccted into it before the age of fifty. He forbad them to mix fable with the myſteries of their religion; and that they ſhould be qualified to teach others, he ordered that they ſhould be the the hiſtoriographers of the times; ſo that while inſtructed by prieſts like theſe, the people could never degenerate into total barbarity.

Of his other laws we have but few fragments remaining. In theſe however we learn, that wives were forbid, upon any pretext whatſo⯑ever, to ſeparate from their huſbands; while, on the contrary, the huſband was empowered to repudiate the wife, and even to put her to death with the conſent of her relations, in eaſe ſhe was detected in adultery, in attempting to poi⯑ſon, in making falſe keys, or even of having drank too much wine. His laws between chil⯑dren and their parents were yet ſtill more ſevere: the father had entire power over his offspring, both of fortune and life, he could ſell them or impriſon them at any time of their lives, or in any ſtations to which they were arrived. The father might expoſe his children, if born [13] with any deformities, having previouſly commu⯑nicated his intentions to his five next of kin⯑dred. Our lawgiver ſeemed more kind even to his enemies, for his ſubjects were prohibited from killing them after they had ſurrendered, or even from ſelling them: his ambition only aimed at diminiſhing the number of his ene⯑mies by making friends of them.

After ſo many endeavours to encreaſe his ſubjects, and ſo many laws to regulate them, he next gave orders to aſcertain their numbers. The whole amounted but to three thouſand foot, and about as many hundred horſemen, capable of bearing arms. Theſe therefore were divided equally into three tribes, and to each he aſſigned a different part of the city. Each of theſe tribes were ſubdivided into ten curiae or companies, conſiſting of an hundred men each, with a centurion to command it, a prieſt called curio to perform the ſacrifices, and two of the principal inhabitants, called duumviri, to diſtribute juſtice. According to the number of curiae he divided the lands into thirty parts, reſerving one portion for public uſes, and an⯑other for religious ceremonies. The ſimplicity and frugality of the times will be beſt under⯑ſtood by obſerving, that each citizen had not above two acres of ground for his own ſub⯑ſiſtance. Of the horſemen mentioned above, thoſe were choſen ten from each curia; they [14] were particularly appointed to fight round the perſon of the king; of them his guard was compoſed, and from their alacrity in battle, or from the name of their firſt commander, they were called celeres, a word equivalent to our light horſemen.

A government thus wiſely inſtituted, it may be ſuppoſed, induced numbers to come and live under it; each day added to its ſtrength, multitudes flock'd in from all the adjacent towns, and it only ſeemed to want women to aſcertain its duration. In this exigence, Romu⯑lus, by the advice of the ſenate, ſent deputies among the Sabines, his neighbours, entreating their alliance, and upon theſe terms offering to cement the moſt ſtrict confederacy with them. The Sabines, who were then conſidered as the moſt warlike people of Italy, rejected the pro⯑poſition with diſdain, and ſome even added raillery to the refuſal, demanding, that as he had opened a ſanctuary for fugitive ſlaves, why he had not alſo opened another for proſtitute women. This anſwer quickly raiſed the indig⯑nation of the Romans; and the king, in order to gratify their reſentment, while he at the ſame time ſhould people his city, reſolved to obtain by force, what was denied to entreaty. For this purpoſe he proclaimed a feaſt, in ho⯑nour of Neptune, throughout all the neigh⯑bouring villages, and made the moſt magnifi⯑cent [15] preparations for it. Theſe feaſts were generally preceded by ſacrifices, and ended in ſhews of wreſtlers, gladiators, and chariot⯑courſes. The Sabines, as he had expected, were among the foremoſt who came to be ſpec⯑tators, bringing their wives and daughters with them to ſhare the pleaſure of the ſight. The inhabitants alſo of many of the neighbouring towns came, who were received by the Romans with marks of the moſt cordial hoſpitality. In the mean time the games began, and while the ſtrangers were moſt intent upon the ſpectacle, a number of the Roman youth ruſhed in among them with drawn ſwords, ſeized the youngeſt and moſt beautiful women, and car⯑ried them off by violence. In vain the parents proteſted againſt this breach of hoſpitality; in vain the virgins themſelves at firſt oppoſed the attempts of their raviſhers; perſeverance and careſſes obtained thoſe favours which timi⯑dity at firſt denied; ſo that the betrayers, from being objects of averſion, ſoon became partners of their deareſt affections.

But however the affront might have been borne by them, it was not ſo eaſily put up by their parents; a bloody war enſued. The cities of Cenina, Antemna and Cruſtumium were the firſt who reſolved to revenge the common cauſe, which the Sabines ſeemed too dilatory in purſuing. Theſe, by making ſeperate inroads, [16] became a more eaſy conqueſt to Romulus, who firſt overthrew the Ceninenſes, ſlew their king Acron in ſingle combat, and made an offering of the royal ſpoils to Jupiter Feretrius, on the ſpot where the capitol was afterwards built. The Antemnates and Cruſtuminians ſhared the ſame fate, their armies were overthrown, and their cities taken. The conqueror however made the moſt merciful uſe of his victory; for inſtead of deſtroying their towns, or leſſening their numbers, he only placed colonies of Ro⯑mans in them, to ſerve as a frontier to repreſs more diſtant invaſions.

Tatius, king of Cures, a Sabine city, was the laſt, although the moſt formidable, who undertook to revenge the diſgrace his country had ſuffered. He entered the Roman territo⯑ries at the head of twenty-five thouſand men, and not content with a ſuperiority of forces, he added ſtratagem alſo. Tarpeia, who was daughter to the commander of the Capitoline hill, happened to fall into his hands, as ſhe went without the walls of the city to fetch water. Upon her he prevailed, by means of large pro⯑miſes, to betray one of the gates to his army. The reward ſhe engaged for, was what the ſol⯑diers wore on their arms, by which ſhe meant their bracelets. They however either miſtaking her meaning, or willing to puniſh her perfidy, threw their bucklers upon her as they entered, [17] and cruſhed her to death beneath them. The Sabines being thus poſſeſſed of the Capitoline, had the advantage of continuing the war at their pleaſure, and for ſome time only ſlight encounters paſſed between them. At length however, the tediouſneſs of this conteſt began to weary out both parties, ſo that each wiſhed, out neither would ſtoop to ſue for peace. The deſire of peace often gives vigour to meaſures in war; wherefore both ſides reſolving to termi⯑nate their doubts by a deciſive action, a gene⯑ral engagement enſued, which was renewed for ſeveral days, with almoſt equal ſucceſs. They both fought for all that was valuable in life, and neither could think of ſubmitting: it was in the valley between the Capitoline and Quirinal hills, that the laſt engagement was fought between the Romans and the Sabines. The engagement became general, and the ſlaughter prodigious, when the attention of both ſides was ſuddenly turned from the ſcene of horror before them, to another infinitely more ſtriking. The Sabine women who had been carried off by the Romans, were ſeen with their hair looſe and their ornaments ne⯑glected, flying in between the combatants, re⯑gardleſs of their own danger, and with loud outcries only ſolicitous for that of their pa⯑rents, their huſbands and their children. ‘"If", cried they, "you are reſolved upon ſlaughter, [18] turn your arms upon us, ſince we only are the cauſe of your animoſity. If any muſt die, let it be us, ſince, if our parents or our huſbands fall, we muſt be equally mi⯑ſerable in being the ſurviving cauſe."’ A ſpectacle ſo moving could not be reſiſted by the combatants, both ſides for a while, as if by mutual impulſe, let fall their weapons, and beheld the diſtreſs in ſilent amazement. The tears and entreaties of their wives and daugh⯑ters at length prevailed, an accommodation enſued, by which it was agreed; that Romulus and Tatius ſhould reign jointly in Rome, with equal power and prerogative, that an hundred Sabines ſhould be admitted into the ſenate, that the city ſhould ſtill retain its former name, but that the citizens ſhould be called Quirites, after Cures, the principal town of the Sabines, and that both nations being thus united, ſuch of the Sabines as choſe it, ſhould be admitted to live in and enjoy all the privileges of citi⯑zens in Rome. Thus every ſtorm which ſeem⯑ed to threaten this growing empire, only ſerv⯑ed to encreaſe its vigour. That army, which in the morning had reſolved upon its deſtruc⯑tion, came in the evening with joy to be en⯑rolled among the number of its citizens. Romu⯑lus ſaw his dominions and his ſubjects encreaſ⯑ed by more than half, in the ſpace of a few hours; and, as if fortune meant every way to [19] aſſiſt his greatneſs, Tatius, his partner in the government, was killed about five years after by the Lavinians, for having protected ſome ſervants of his, who had plundered them and ſlain their ambaſſadors; ſo that by this acci⯑dent Romulus once more ſaw himſelf ſole mo⯑narch of Rome.

Rome being greatly ſtrengthened by this new acquiſition of power, began to grow for⯑midable to her neighbours, and it may be ſup⯑poſed, that pretexts for war were not wanting, when prompted by jealouſy on their ſide, and by ambition on that of the Romans. Fidena and Cameria, two neighbouring cities, were ſubdued and taken. Veii alſo, one of the moſt powerful ſtates of Etruria, ſhared nearly the ſame fate, after two fierce engagements they ſued for peace and a league, which was granted up⯑on giving up a ſeventh part of their domi⯑nions, their ſalt-pits near the river, and hoſtages for greater ſecurity.

Succeſſes like theſe produced an equal ſhare of pride in the conqueror. From being cont [...]nt⯑ed with thoſe limits which had been wiſely fixed to his power, he began to affect abſolute ſway, and to govern thoſe laws, to which he had him⯑ſelf formerly profeſſed implicit obedience. The ſenate was particularly diſpleaſed at his conduct, finding themſelves only uſed as inſtruments to ratify the rigour of his commands. We are [20] not told the preciſe manner which they made uſe of to get rid of the tyrant; ſome ſay that he was torn in pieces in the ſenate-houſe; others, that he diſappeared while reviewing his army; certain it is, that from the ſecrecy of the fact, and the concealment of the body, they took occaſion to perſuade the multitude, that he was taken up into heaven: thus him whom they could not bear as a king, they were contented to worſhip as a god.

Romulus reigned thirty-ſeven years, and af⯑ter his death, had a temple built to him, under the name of Quirinus, one of the ſenators ſo⯑lemnly affirming, that he had appeared to him, and deſired to be invoked by that title. We ſee little more in the character of this prince, than what might be expected in ſuch an age, great temperance and great valour, which ge⯑nerally make up the catalogue of ſavage vir⯑tues. However the grandeur of an empire ad⯑mired by the whole world, creates in us an ad⯑miration of the founder, without much ex⯑amining his title.

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

ROME was already grown from its ſmall U. C. 38 beginnings into a very formidable ſtate, her forces now amounted to forty-ſix thouſand foot and a thouſand horſe. The kingdom of Alba alſo fell in by the death of Numitor, ſo that it now required ſome time to unite ſo great a concourſe of new-made ſubjects into an obedi⯑ence to one governor: in fact, the city ſeemed greatly divided in the choice of a ſucceſſor. The Sabines were for having the king choſen from their body, but the Romans could not bear the thoughts of advancing a ſtranger to the throne. In this perplexity the ſenate un⯑dertook to ſupply the place of the king, by taking the government, each of them in turn, for five days, and during that time, enjoying all the honours and all the privileges of royalty. This new form of government held a year, nor is it known whether the ſenate intended by continuing it, to preſerve the ſovereign power among themſelves, or only to wait for a proper object of their choice, on whom to devolve the regal power. The plebeians, however, who ſaw [22] that this method of transferring power was only multiplying their maſters, inſiſted upon al⯑tering that mode of government, allowing the ſenate a choice, either of nominating a king, or electing annual magiſtrates from among their number. The ſenate being thus driven to an election, for ſome time debated upon the proper form, till at length it was agreed, that the party which elected, ſhould nominate from the body of the other, ſo that the new king would have equal attachments to both; to the one as his countrymen, to the other as his electors. In conſequence of this the choice being left to the Roman part of the ſenate, they pitched upon Numa Pompilius, a Sabine, and their choice was received with univerſal approbation by the reſt of the ſenate and the people.

Numa Pompilius, who was now about forty, had long been eminent for his piety, his juſ⯑tice, moderation and exemplary life. He was ſkilled in all the learning and philoſophy of the Sabines, and lived at home at Cures, con⯑tented with a private fortune, unambitious of higher honours. It was not therefore without reluctance that he accepted the dignity that was conferred upon him, he for ſome time continued obſtinately to refuſe it, but at length, at the requeſt of his father, and the perſuaſions of the ambaſſadors who were ſent [23] to him from Rome, he conſented to accept of the kingdom, ſo that his acceptance produced ſuch joy, that the people ſeemed not ſo much to receive a king as a kingdom.

The Romans were fond of thinking that providence induſtriouſly adapted the various diſpoſitions of its kings to the different ne⯑ceſſities of the people, and indeed in the pre⯑ſent inſtance they were not much miſtaken. No monarch could be more proper for them than Numa, at a conjuncture when the go⯑vernment was compoſed of various petty ſtates [...]ately ſubdued, and but ill united among each other; they wanted a maſter who could by his laws and precepts ſoften their fierce diſpoſi⯑tions, and by his example induce them to a love of religion, and every milder virtue. Under Numa therefore, the people became more ſubmiſſive and ſocial, but what gave them ſtill greater force, if conſidered in the light of conquerors, was the ſpirit of reli⯑gion, which he implanted amongſt them. This continued to operate through a long ſucceſſion of ages, for what could reſiſt the greateſt valour, when impelled by the moſt profound ſuperſtition.

In the reign of Numa therfore, we are to look only for the pacific virtues, as his whole time was ſpent in inſpiring his ſubjects with a love of piety, and a veneration for the gods. [24] He built many new temples, he inſtituted feaſts, and the ſanctity of his life gave him credit enough to perſuade his people, that he had a particular correſpondence with the god⯑deſs Egeria. By her advice he built the temple of Janus, which was to be ſhut in time of peace, and open in war; he ordained veſtal virgins, who being four in number, had very great privileges allowed them, ſuch as of being preceded by the faſces or enſigns of royal power, and of pardoning malefactors in caſe of an accidental meeting: he inſtituted pon⯑tiffs, and enrolled himſelf among the number: he brought up the orders of the Salian and Fecial prieſthood, the one to preſerve the ſa⯑cred ſhields called ancillia, which he pretended had dropt down from heaven, and which, while remaining in Rome, the city could never be taken; the other to judge of the equity of war, and to proclaim it with great ceremony.

For the encouragement of agriculture, he divided thoſe lands which Romulus had gained in war, among the poorer part of the people; he abated the rigour of the laws, which his predeceſſor had inſtituted, with regard to pa⯑rents and children, making it unlawful for a father to ſell his ſon after marriage, becauſe he thought it unjuſt, that a woman who had mar⯑ried a freeman, ſhould be conſtrained to live with a ſlave: he regulated alſo the kalendar, [25] and aboliſhed the diſtinction between Romans and Sabines, by dividing the people according to their ſeveral trades, and compelling them to live together. Thus having lived to the age of more than fourſcore years, and having reigned forty-three in profound peace, he died, ordering his body to be buried in a ſtone coffin, contrary to the cuſtom of the times, and his books of ceremonies, which conſiſted of twelve in Latin and as many in Greek, to be buried by his ſide, in another. Theſe were taken up about four hundred years after, and becauſe it was thought impious to communicate the myſ⯑teries they contained to the public, they were burnt by order of the ſenate, which perhaps was willing to hide the futility of the work by this extraordinary reverence for the contents.

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

UPON the death of Numa, the government U. C. 82 once more devolved upon the ſenate, and con⯑tinued with them till the people elected Tullus Hoſtilius for their king, which choice had alſo the concurrence of the other part of the con⯑ſtitution. This monarch, who was grandſon [26] to a noble Roman, who had formerly ſignalized himſelf againſt the Sabines, was every way un⯑like his predeceſſor, being entirely devoted to war, and more fond of enterprize, than even the founder of the empire himſelf had been; ſo that he only ſought a pretext for leading his forces to the field.

The Albans were the firſt people who gave him an opportunity of indulging his favourite inclinations. Two neighbouring ſtates, both eager for war, and both in ſome meaſure ſub⯑ſiſting by plunder, can never want a pretext to colour the violence of a firſt aggreſſion. A few Roman ſhepherds had, it ſeems, commit⯑ted an inroad upon the territories of Alba; a number of Alban ſhepherds had made repriſals upon them; ambaſſadors were ſent from either ſtate, complaining of the injury; no redreſs was given, and a formal war was declared on both ſides, which neither however would bear the blame of having firſt given riſe to. There were indeed many reaſons for making theſe two ſtates unwilling to come to an open rupture; they were deſcended from the ſame original, and the ties of conſanguinity ſtill held many of them united. There were alſo ſome neighbouring ſtates, enemies to both, that only ſought an opportunity of falling upon either. It was with theſe diſpoſitions, that after ſome warlike ſtratagems on either ſide, the Roman [27] and Alban forces met, about five miles from Rome, prepared to decide the fate of their re⯑ſpective kingdoms, for almoſt every battle in theſe barbarous times was deciſive. The two armies were for ſome time drawn out in array, awaiting the ſignal to begin, both chiding the length of that dreadful ſuſpenſe which kept them from death or victory. But an unex⯑pected propoſal from the Alban general put a ſtop to the onſet, for ſtepping in between both armies, he offered the Romans the choice of de⯑ciding the diſpute by ſingle combat; adding, that the ſide whoſe champion was overcome, ſhould ſubmit to the conqueror. A propoſal like this ſuited the impetuous temper of the Roman king, and was embraced with joy by his ſubjects, each of which hoped, that he himſelf ſhould be choſen to fight the cauſe of his country. Many valiant men offered them⯑ſelves, but could not be accepted to the exclu⯑ſion of others, till, at laſt, in this incertitude of choice, chance ſuggeſted a remedy. There were at that time three twin brothers in each army, thoſe of the Romans were called Horatii, and theſe of the Albans Curiatii, all ſix re⯑markable for their courage, ſtrength and acti⯑vity, and to theſe it was reſolved to commit the management of the combat. When the previous ceremony of oaths and proteſtations, binding the army of the vanquiſhed party to [28] ſubmit to that of the victorious were over, the combatants were led forth amidſt the encou⯑ragements, the prayers, and the ſhouts of their country. They were warned of the greatneſs of the cauſe; they were reminded of their former atchievments; they were admoniſhed, that their fathers, their countrymen, and gods were ſpectators of their behaviour. At length, warm'd with the importance of the trial, the champions on each ſide met in combat together, and totally regardleſs of his own ſafety, each only ſought the deſtruction of his opponent. The ſpectators, in horrid ſilence, trembled at every blow, and wiſhed to ſhare the danger, till at length fortune ſeemed to decide the glory of the field. Victory, that had hitherto been doubtful, appeared to declare againſt the Romans; they beheld two of their champions lying dead upon the plain, and the three Curiatii, who were wounded, ſlowly en⯑deavouring to purſue the ſurvivor, who ſeemed by flight to beg for mercy. At this, the Alban army, unable to ſuppreſs their joy, raiſed a loud acclamation, while the Romans inwardly curſed and repined at the cowardice of him whom they ſaw in circumſtances of ſuch baſeneſs. Soon however they began to alter their ſentiments, when they perceived that his flight was only pretended, in order to ſeparate his antagoniſts whom he was unable to oppoſe united; for [29] quickly after ſtopping his courſe, and turning upon him who followed moſt cloſely behind, he laid him dead at his feet: the ſecond bro⯑ther, who came on to aſſiſt him who was fallen, only ſhared the ſame fate; and now there re⯑mained but the laſt Curiatius to conquer, who, fatigued and quite diſabled with his wounds, ſlowly came up to offer an eaſy victory. He was killed, almoſt unreſiſting, while the conqueror exclaiming, offered him as a victim to the ſuperiority of the Romans, whom now the Alban army conſented to obey.

A victory ſo great, and attended with ſuch ſignal effects deſerved every honour that Rome could beſtow; but as if none of the virtues of that age were to be without alloy, the very hand that in the morning was exerted to ſave his country, was before night embrued in the blood of a ſiſter. For returning triumphant from the field, it raiſed his indignation to be⯑hold her bathed in tears, and lamenting the loſs of her lover, one of the Curiatii, to whom ſhe was betrothed. But when, upon ſeeing the veſt which ſhe had made for her lover, among the number of his ſpoils, and beginning to up⯑braid him, it provoked him beyond the power of ſufferance, ſo that he ſlew her in a rage. This action greatly diſpleaſed the ſenate, and drew on the condemnation of the magiſtrates, but he [30] was pardoned by making his appeal to the people.

Things being in this poſture, Hoſtilius re⯑ſolved to avail himſelf of the late victory, by confirming the ſubmiſſion of Alba, and taking the proper ſteps to quell the inſolence of the inhabitants of Fidena and Veii, who had been making preparations to ſhake off their ſubjec⯑tion. His deſigns were crowned with ſucceſs in both. A victory over the latter, reſtrained their attempts for ſome time; and as to the former, having convicted Metius Suffetius, their general, of treaſon, he cauſed him to be torn to pieces by horſes; and ſtill more, to give no ground for future revolts, he utterly demoliſhed the city of Alba, and tranſplanted the inhabitants to Rome, many of whom he admitted into the ſenate.

After theſe ſucceſſes, he turned his arms againſt the Sabines, over whom he gained a ſignal victory by means of his cavalry, whom the enemy were incapable of withſtanding. Thus every new war, which depopulates other ſtates, ſeemed but to add ſtrength and numbers to that of Rome. It was perhaps from a con⯑ſciouſneſs, that a ſtate of war was the beſt for his people, that the king entered into one with the Latins, which however was managed but ſlowly on both ſides, no battle being fought, nor no town taken except Medallia, which had for⯑merly [31] been obliged to accept a Roman colony, and was now permitted to be plundered, as an example to prevent the like defection in others. This war laſted almoſt the reſt of this reign, the latter part of which was clouded with terrors from pretended prodigies, while, at the ſame time, the king ſaw his people afflicted with a real famine, which it was not in his power to relieve. He died, after a reign of thirty-two years, ſome ſay by lightening, with his whole family, others, with more probability, by treaſon.

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

AFTER an interregnum, as in the former caſe, U. C. 115 Ancus Martius, the grandſon of Numa, was was elected king by the people, and the choice afterwards was confirmed by the ſenate. As this monarch was a lineal deſcendant from Numa, ſo he ſeemed to make him the great object of his imitation. Indeed he was by nature incapable of making any great figure in war, as he took his name of Ancus, from the crookedneſs of one of his arms, which he was incapable of extending: however he made up this defect by the moſt diligent application to [32] all the arts of peace. He inſtituted the ſacred ceremonies which were to precede a declaration of war; he endeavoured to perſuade the people, that the calamities which lately befel them and his predeceſſor, were owing to a neglect of the gods; he took every occaſion to adviſe his ſub⯑jects to return to the arts of agriculture, and lay aſide the leſs uſeful ſtratagems of war.

Theſe inſtitutions and precepts were conſi⯑dered by the neighbouring powers rather as marks of cowardice than of wiſdom. The Latins therefore began to make incurſions upon his territories, and by their outrages, in ſome meaſure, forced him into a war. In this how⯑ever he ſtill kept up to his character, and pre⯑viouſly ſent an herald, who, in a peculiar dreſs, and with a javelin headed with iron in his hand, went to the confines of the enemy, ſolemnly proclaimed war, and then flung his weapon into their territories, with all the force he was able. The ſucceſs of this war was equal to its juſtice; Ancus conquered the Latins, deſtroyed their cities, removed their inhabitants to Rome, and encreaſed its territories by the addition of part of theirs. He quelled alſo an inſurrection of the Veii, the Fidenates, and the Volſcii, and over the Sabines he obtained a ſecond triumph.

But his victories over the enemy were by no means comparable to his works at home, in raiſing temples, fortifying the city, making a [33] priſon for malefactors, and building a ſea-port at the mouth of the Tyber, called Oſtia, by which he ſecured to his ſubjects the trade of that river, and that of the ſalt-pits adjacent. Nor was he leſs careful in encouraging ſtrangers to come and ſettle with him: the privileges which they obtained, and the juſtice which was adminiſtered by him to all, brought numbers of the moſt creditable perſons from different parts of Italy, who not only encreaſed the riches of his ſubjects, but alſo tended ſtill more to civilize them. Among others of this quality was Lucumon, who afterwards took the name of Lucius, and became his ſucceſſor in the king⯑dom, by the name of Lucius Tarquinius. This ſtranger, who was a perſon of great accompliſh⯑ments as well as of large poſſeſſions, was very honourably treated by Ancus, who probably was the more prejudiced in his favour, by an offer Tarquinius had made him of all his for⯑tune for public uſes. He was accordingly elected into the ſenate, and appointed guardian to the two ſons of Ancus, who, having en⯑riched his ſubjects and beautified the city, died, after reigning twenty-four years.

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

U. C. 138 LUcius Tarquinius Priſcus, whoſe original name, as has been already obſerved, was Lu⯑cumon, and who was appointed guardian to the ſons of the late king, took the ſurname of Tarquinius, from the city Tarquinia, from whence he laſt came. His father was a mer⯑chant of Corinth, who acquired conſiderable wealth by trade, and had ſettled in Italy upon account of ſome troubles at home. His ſon Lucumon, who inherited his fortune, married a woman of family in the city of Tarquinia, and as his birth, profeſſion and country were contemptible to the nobles of the place, by his wife's perſuaſions, he came to ſettle at Rome, where merit only made diſtinction. On his way thither, ſay the hiſtorians, as he approached the city gate, an eagle, ſtooping from above, took off his hat, and flying round his chariot for ſome time, with much noiſe, put it on again. This, his wife Tanaquil, who it ſeems was ſkilled in augury, interpreted as a preſage, that he ſhould one day wear the crown, and per⯑haps [35] it was this which firſt fired his ambition to purſue it: accordingly, being poſſeſſed of great riches, all his actions and expences ſeemed to aim at popularity. His kind addreſs, his frequent invitations, and his many benefits, gained the eſteem and admiration of a ſimple people, who were yet unſkilled in the arts of intrigue, and never conſidered the views with which thoſe favours were beſtowed.

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

A kingdom thus got by intrigue, was not⯑withſtanding governed with equity. In the beginning of his reign, in order to recompence his friends, he added an hundred members more to the ſenate, which made them, in all, three hundred. He likewiſe encreaſed the [36] number of veſtal virgins from four to ſeven, and laid the firſt foundations of an amphi⯑theatre for the combats of men and beaſts, which were afterwards carried to an horrid exceſs. The firſt ſhews however, were only horſe⯑racing and boxing, in which, men hired for that purpoſe from Etruria, fought with gauntlets for a prize: how different theſe from the com⯑bats of a latter age, in which two thouſand gladiators were ſeen at once expiring or dead upon the ſtage!

His peaceful ſtudies however, were ſoon in⯑terrupted by the inroads of his reſtleſs neigh⯑bours, particularly the Latins, over whom he triumphed, and whom he forced to beg a peace. He then turned his arms againſt the Sabines, who had once more riſen up againſt Rome, and had paſt over the river Tyber, upon a bridge, in order to plunder the Roman territo⯑ries, and if poſſible, to ſack the city. Tarquin however, ſoon came up to them on the banks of the river, and gave directions to ſet fire to a large heap of wood that lay by its ſide, and then to throw it in; the burning wood floating down the ſtream, ſet fire to the enemies bridge, and intercepted their retreat. Nor did he per⯑mit them to take meaſures for oppoſing him, but attacking them with vigour, routed their army, ſo that many who eſcaped the ſword, were drowned in attempting to croſs over, while [37] their bodies and armour floating down to Rome, brought news of the victory, even be⯑fore the meſſengers could arrive.

Tarquin reſolving not to give them time to recover from this defeat, followed them into their own country, where by another victory he obliged them to ſue for peace, which how⯑ever they did not obtain, but at the expence of a conſiderable part of their territories, and of Collatia, a large city, five miles eaſt of Rome. Theſe conqueſts were followed by ſe⯑veral advantages over the Latins, from whom he took many towns, though without gaining any deciſive victory.

Tarquin having thus forced his enemies into ſubmiſſion, was reſolved not to let his ſubjects corrupt in indolence, but undertook ſeveral public works for the convenience and embel⯑liſhment of the city. He ſurrounded it with ſtronger and larger walls; he adorned the forum or market-place with porticoes; he made many ſewers to drain the city, ſome of which excite the admiration of travellers to this very day. He improved the amphitheatre which his predeceſſor had begun, and laid the foundation of the capitol, which however he did not live to finiſh.

In his time alſo, the augurs came into a great encreaſe of reputation, and he found it [38] his intereſt to promote the ſuperſtition of the people, as this was in fact but to encreaſe their obedience. Tanaquil his wife was a great pretender to this art, but Accius Naevius was the moſt celebrated adept of the kind, that was ever known in Rome. Upon a certain occa⯑ſion, Tarquin being ſenſible of his want of ca⯑valry, had ſome intentions of adding three new companies of knights to thoſe three that had been formerly inſtituted by Romulus, but he was reſtrained by the augur, who declared, that it was forbidden by the gods, to alter any of the inſtitutions of their founder. The king, as the hiſtorians ſay, being in a violent paſſion, upon this reſolved to try the augur's ſkill, and aſked him, whether what he was then pondering in his mind could be effected. Naevius having examined his auguries, boldly affirmed that it might: why then, cries the king, with an in⯑ſulting ſmile, I had thoughts of cutting this whetſtone with a razor. Cut boldly, replied the augur; and the king cut it through ac⯑cordingly. Thence forward nothing was under⯑taken in Rome without conſulting the augurs, and obtaining their advice and approbation. No aſſembly was diſmiſſed, nor army levied; no battle fought, nor peace reſtored, without conſulting the chirping and the flight of birds, which, as it may be ſuppoſed, the augurs made to ſpeak whatever language they pleaſed.

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

Thus fell Lucius Tarquinius, ſurnamed Priſcus, to diſtinguiſh him from one of his ſuc⯑ceſſors of the ſame name, aged fifty-ſix years, of which he had reigned thirty-eight. By having been of Greek extraction, he, in ſome manner introduced part of the polite arts of that country among his ſubjects, and though [40] the Romans were as yet very far from being civilized, yet they certainly were much more ſo than any of the barbarous nations round them.

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

U. C. 176 THE report of the murder of Tarquin filled all his ſubjects with complaint and indig⯑nation, while the citizens ran from every quarter to the palace, to learn the truth of the account, or to take vengeance on the aſſaſſins. In this tumult, Tanaquil, widow of the late king, conſidering the danger ſhe muſt incur, in caſe the conſpirators ſhould ſucceed to the crown; and deſirous of having her ſon-in-law for his ſucceſſor, with great art diſſembled her ſorrow and the king's death. She aſſured the people, from one of the windows of the palace, that he was not killed, but ſtunned by the blow; that he would ſhortly recover, and that in the mean time, he had deputed his power to Servius Tullius, his ſon-in-law. Servius, ac⯑cordingly as it had been agreed upon between them, iſſued from the palace, adorned with the enſigns of royalty, and preceded by his lictors, went to diſpatch ſome affairs that related to [41] the public ſafety; ſtill pretending, that he took all his inſtructions from the king. This ſcene of diſſimulation continued for ſome days, till he had made his party good among the nobles, when the death of Tarquin being publickly aſcertained, Servius came to the crown, ſolely at the ſenate's appointment, and without attempting to gain the ſuffrages of the people.

Servius was the ſon of a bondwoman, who had been taken at the ſacking of a town be⯑longing to the Latins, and was born whilſt his mother was yet a ſlave. While yet an infant in his cradle, a lambent flame is ſaid to have played round his head, which Tanaquil con⯑verted into an omen of his future greatneſs. Impreſt with this opinion, ſhe gave him the beſt education of the times, and ſoon after raiſed him to the honour of being her ſon-in-law, and appointed him, when the king grew old, to the management of affairs both of a domeſtic and foreign nature. His conduct in this ſtation gained him the good-will of the people, and what he valued ſtill more, the eſteem of the ſenate.

Upon being acknowledged as king, the chief object of his reign was to encreaſe the power of the ſenate, by depreſſing that of the people; an enterprize attended with extreme difficulty and danger. To compaſs his intention, he was to [42] work by ſtratagem, and by ſeeming to ſtudy their intereſt, bring about a meaſure that ſhould effectually deſtroy their authority. The Roman citizens had hitherto been taxed ſingly, and each paid an equal ſhare to the ne⯑ceſſities of the ſtate; this method of contribut⯑ing to the public exigencies, he pretended to conſider as extremely unjuſt, and propoſed one of a more equitable kind, by which every ci⯑tizen ſhould be only taxed according to his fortune. The populace, who were unable to ſee into his deſigns received his project with the loudeſt applauſe, and conferred upon him a full power of ſettling the taxes as he ſhould think proper. To begin therefore, he ordered an exact enumeration to be made of the citizens of Rome, their children and ſervants, and alſo a juſt evaluation of their eſtates and ſubſtance. Their numbers were found to amount to above fourſcore thouſand men capable of bear⯑ing arms, a vaſt encreaſe ſince the time of Romulus. Theſe he divided into ſix claſſes, in the firſt of which he comprized the body of the ſenate, the patricians, and all thoſe whoſe fortunes were above eleven hundred thouſand aſſes, or about three hundred and ſixty-ſix pounds of our money, at that time no contemptible fortune in Rome. This claſs he divided into fourſcore centuries or companies, [43] one half of which, being compoſed of the moſt aged and reſpectable perſons, were to remain at home for the defence of the city; the other half, compoſed of the youthful and vigorous, were to follow the general, and to march into the field. Their arms were, a javelin, a ſpear, and a ſword; their armour, a helmet, a cuiraſs, and cuiſhes of braſs. In this claſs alſo was comprized the knights or horſemen, which conſiſted of eighteen centuries, with two more of the machiniſts, who followed the camp. The ſecond claſs, which conſiſted but of twenty-two centuries or companies, was compoſed of thoſe who were worth above ſeventy-five thou⯑ſand aſſes, theſe were accoutered in the ſame manner with the firſt claſs, only inſtead of a ſhield, they carried a target. The third claſs conſiſted of twenty centuries, and was com⯑poſed of ſuch as were worth fifty thouſand aſſes. The fourth claſs conſiſted of a ſimilar number of centuries, and was compoſed of ſuch as were worth twenty-five thouſand aſſes. In the fifth claſs were thirty centuries, and the qualification was eleven thouſand aſſes, theſe were chiefly employed as ſlingers and irregulars in the army. In the laſt claſs there was but one century, and it ſeemed conſidered as of no advantage to the ſtate, except by breeding children, that might one day be uſeful. Theſe paid no taxes, and [44] were diſpenſed with from going to war. In all theſe claſſes, as in the firſt, a part, conſiſting of the old men, were ordained to remain at home for the defence of the city, and the more youthful to fight abroad in their armies. Thus the whole number of the citizens were divided into an hundred and ninety-three centuries, each commanded by a centurion, diſtinguiſhed by his valour and experience.

The citizens being in this manner ranked, they were next to be taxed, but not as formerly, equally and one by one, but by centuries, each century being obliged to ſupply an equal ſhare to the exigencies of govern⯑ment. By theſe means, as the people were ex⯑tremely numerous in the centuries of the infe⯑rior claſſes, their quota of the tax was propor⯑tionably ſmall. It cannot be doubted but this partial exemption from taxes was greatly pleaſ⯑ing to the populace, but they little conſidered that they were to purchaſe it at the expence of their former power. For it was but reaſonable, that as the ſenators and the rich furniſhed moſt to the neceſſities of the ſtate, they ſhould alſo have a proportionable influence in managing its concerns. Accordingly, as they paid their taxes by centuries, he inſtituted, that they ſhould give their votes in all public tranſac⯑tions, by centuries alſo. In former delibera⯑tions [45] each citizen gave his ſuffrage ſingly, and the numbers of the poor always carried it againſt the power of the rich; but by the re⯑gulations of Servius, the ſenate conſiſting of a greater number of centuries than all the other claſſes put together, now entirely out-weighed them in every contention. The plebeians in this manner were left but the ſhadow of au⯑thority, with which however, for ſome ages, they ſeemed ſufficiently contented, until the encreaſing luxury of the times taught one ſide the abuſe of power, and the other, a pride that diſdained ſubordination.

In order to aſcertain the encreaſe or decay of his ſubjects and their fortunes, he inſtituted another regulation which he called a luſtrum. By this all the citizens were to aſſemble in the Campus Martius, in complete armour, and in their reſpective claſſes, once in five years, and there to give an exact account of their families and fortune. He permitted ſlaves alſo to be ſet free by their maſters, and cauſed ſuch as were thus manumitted, to be diſtributed among the lower claſſes of the city.

The king having enjoyed a long reign, thus ſpent in ſettling the domeſtic policy of the ſtate, and alſo not unattentive to foreign con⯑cerns, for he overthrew the Etrurians in many battles, and triumphed over them three ſeveral times, conceived reaſonable hopes of concluding [46] it with tranquility and eaſe. Servius had even thoughts of laying down his power, and having formed the kingdom into a republick▪ to retire into obſcurity; but ſo generous a deſign was fruſtrated ere it could be put in execution.

In the beginning of his reign, to ſecure his throne by every precaution, he had married his two daughters to the two grand-ſons of Tarquin; and, as he knew that the women were of oppoſite diſpoſitions, as well as their intended huſbands, he reſolved to croſs their tempers, by giving each to him of a contrary turn of temper; her that was meek and gentle, to him that was bold and furious; her that was ungovernable and proud, to him that was re⯑markable for a contrary character: by this he ſuppoſed, that each would correct the failings of the other, and that the mixture would be productive only of concord. The event how⯑ever proved otherwiſe. Lucius, his haughty ſon-in-law, ſoon grew diſpleaſed with the meek⯑neſs of his conſort, and placed his whole affec⯑tions upon Tullia, his brother's wife, who an⯑ſwered his paſſion with ſympathetic ardour. As their wiſhes were ungovernable, they ſoon re⯑ſolved to break through every reſtraint that offered to prevent their union; both under⯑took to murder their conſorts, which they ef⯑fected, and were accordingly ſoon after mar⯑ried together. A firſt crime ever produces a [47] ſecond; from the deſtruction of their conſorts, they proceeded to conſpiring that of the king. They began by raiſing factions againſt him, al⯑ledging his illegal title to the crown, and Lucius by claiming it as his own, as heir to Tarquin. But Tullius, by his prudence and great moderation, defeated this deſign in the outſet, coming off with great honour both with the ſenate and people, which brought Lucius to a feigned repentance on his ſide, and produced a real reconciliation on that of the king. Tullia however, ſtill continuing to add flame to her huſband's ambition, which was al⯑ready all on fire, he continued his intrigues among the ſenate, attaching the old to him, by putting them in mind of their obligations to his family▪ the young, by gifts for the pre⯑ſent, and promiſes of much greater things upon his coming to the crown. At length, when he found them ripe for ſeconding his views, he entered the ſenate houſe, adorned with all the enſigns of royalty, and placing himſelf upon the throne, began to harangue them upon the obſcurity of the king's birth, and the injuſtice of his title. While he was yet ſpeaking, Ser⯑vius entered, attended by a few followers, and ſeeing his throne thus rudely invaded, offered to puſh the uſurper from his ſeat; but Tarquin being in the vigour of youth, threw the old man down the ſteps which led to the throne, [48] and ſome of his adherents being inſtructed for that purpoſe, followed the king, as he was feebly attempting to get to the palace, and diſ⯑patched him, throwing his body all mangled and bleeding, as a public ſpectacle into the ſtreet. In the mean time, Tullia burning with impatience for the event, was informed of what her huſband had done, and reſolving to be among the firſt who ſhould ſalute him as monarch, ordered her chariot to drive to the ſenate-houſe, where her ſavage joy ſeemed to diſguſt every beholder. Upon her return▪ when her charioteer approached the place where the old king, her father's body lay ex⯑poſed and bloody, the man all amazed at the inhuman ſpectacle, and not willing to trample upon it with his horſes feet, offered to turn an⯑other way, but this only ſerved to encreaſe the fierceneſs of her anger, ſhe threw the footſtool at his head, and ordered him to drive over it without deviation.

This was the end of Servius Tullius, a prince of eminent juſtice and moderation, after an uſeful and proſperous reign of forty-four years. Tho' the dominions of Rome had been but little encreaſed by him, yet they acquired a ſtability under his government, which far ex⯑ceeded the tranſient ſplendor of an extenſive, but haſty conqueſt.

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

LUCIUS Tarquinius, afterwards called U. C. 220 Superbus, or the proud, having placed him⯑ſelf upon the throne, in conſequence of his violent attempt, was reſolved to ſupport his dignity with the ſame violence with which it was acquired. Regardleſs of the ſenate or the people's approbation, he ſeemed to claim the crown by an hereditary right, and refuſed the late king's body inhumation, under pretence of his being an uſurper. All the good part of mankind however, looked upon his ac⯑ceſſion with deteſtation and horror, and this act of inefficient cruelty only ſerved to confirm their hatred. Conſcious of this, he ordered all ſuch as he ſuſpected to have been attached to Servius, to be put to death, and fearing the natural conſequences of his tyranny, encreaſed the guard round his perſon.

His chief policy ſeems to have been to keep the people always employed either in wars or public works, by which means he diverted their attention from his unlawful method of [50] coming to the crown. With this view, he firſt marched againſt the Sabines, who refuſed to pay him obedience, and ſoon reduced them to ſubmiſſion. He next began a war with the Volſci, which continued for ſome ages after, and from theſe he took Su [...]ſſa Dometia, a conſiderable town about twenty-ſix miles eaſt of Rome. The city of the Gabii gave him much more trouble, for having attempted with ſome loſs, to beſiege it, he was obliged to direct his efforts by ſtratagem▪ contrary to the uſual practice of the Romans. He cauſed his ſon Sextus to counterfeit deſertion, upon pre⯑tence of barbarous uſage from his father, and to ſeek refuge among the inhabitants of the place. There, by artful complaints and ſtudied lamentations, he ſo prevailed upon the pity of the people, as to be choſen their governor, and ſoon after general of their army. He at firſt, in every engagement, appeared ſucceſsful, till, at length, finding himſelf entirely poſſeſſed of the confidence of the ſtate, he ſent a truſty meſſenger to his father for inſtructions. Tarquin made no other anſwer, than taking the meſſen⯑ger into the garden, and cutting down before him the talleſt poppies. Sextus readily under⯑ſtood the meaning of this reply, and one by one, found means of deſtroying or removing the principal men of the city, ſtill taking care to confiſcate their effects among the people. [51] The charms of this dividend kept the giddy populace blind to their approaching ruin, till they found themſelves at laſt, without coun⯑ſellors or head, and in the end, fell under the power of Tarquin, without even ſtriking a blow. After this, he made a league with the Aequi, and renewed that with the Etrurians.

But while he was engaged in wars abroad, he took care not to ſuffer the people to con⯑tinue in idleneſs at home. He undertook to build the capitol, the foundation of which had been laid in a former reign, and an extraor⯑dinary event contributed to haſten the execu⯑tion of his deſign. A woman, in ſtrange attire, made her appearance at Rome, and came to the king, offering to ſell nine books, which ſhe ſaid were of her own compoſing. Not knowing the abilities of the ſeller, and that ſhe was in fact one of the celebrated ſybils, whoſe prophecies were never found to fail, Tarquin re⯑fuſed to buy them. Upon this ſhe departed, and burning three of her books, again demanded the ſame price for the ſix remaining; being de⯑ſpiſed as an impoſtor, ſhe again departed, and burning three more, returned with thoſe re⯑maining, ſtill aſking the ſame as at firſt. Tar⯑quin ſurprized at the inconſiſtency of her be⯑haviour, conſulted the augurs, to adviſe him what to do. Theſe much blamed him for not buying the nine, and commanded him to buy [52] the three remaining, at whatſoever price ſhe ſhould demand. The woman, ſays the hiſto⯑rian, after thus ſelling and delivering the three prophetic volumes, and adviſing him to have a ſpecial attention to what they contained, va⯑niſhed from before him, and was never after ſeen. Upon this he choſe proper perſons to keep them, who, though but two at firſt, were afterwards encreaſed to fifteen, under the name of quindecemviri. They were put into a ſtone cheſt, and a vault in the newly-deſigned building, was thought the propereſt place to keep them in ſafety; ſo that the work went on with great vigour, and as omens and prodigies were frequent in this ignorant age, in digging the foundations, a man's head, named Tolus, was found, which, though he was many years dead, ſtill bled afreſh, as if he had been but newly ſlain. This gave the building the name of capitol (caput Toli.) It was two hundred feet long, two hundred high, and almoſt as many broad, dedicated to Jupiter in chief, but containing two temples more, under the ſame roof, dedicated to Juno and Minerva. A ſtruc⯑ture ſo magnificent, was in ſome meaſure an indication of the encreaſe of arts in Rome, not leſs than of the piety of the people.

However, the time now began to approach, in which the people were to be freed from a tyrant, who, day after day, made new victims [53] among them. Having been now for four years together employed in building the capitol, they began at laſt to wiſh for ſomething new to engage them, wherefore Tarquin, to ſatisfy their wiſhes, proclaimed war againſt the Rutuli, upon a frivolous pretence of their having en⯑tertained ſome malefactors whom he had ba⯑niſhed, and inveſted their chief city Ardea, which lay about ſixteen miles from Rome. While the army was encamped before this place, the king's ſon Sextus, with Collatinus, a noble Roman, and ſome others, ſat in a tent drinking together: the diſcourſe happening to turn upon the beauty and virtue of their wives, each man praiſing his own, Collatinus offered to decide the diſpute, by putting it to an im⯑mediate trial, whoſe wife ſhould be found poſſeſt of the greateſt beauty and moſt ſedu⯑louſly employed, at that very hour. Being heated with wine, the propoſal was reliſhed by the whole company, and taking horſe without delay, they poſted to Rome, though the night was already pretty far advanced. Here they found Lucretia, the wife of Collatinus, not like the other women of the age, ſpending the time in eaſe and luxury, but ſpinning in the midſt of her maids, and chearfully portioning out their taſks. Her modeſt beauty, and the eaſy reception ſhe gave her huſband and his friends, ſo charmed them all, that they unani⯑mouſly [54] gave her the preference, and Sextus was ſo much inflamed, that nothing but enjoy⯑ment could ſatisfy his paſſion.

He went therefore from the camp to viſit her privately a few days after, and received the ſame kind reception which he had met with before. As his intentions were not ſuſpected, Lucretia ſate with him at ſupper, and ordered a chamber to be got ready for him in the houſe. Midnight was the time in which this ruffian thought it ſafeſt to put his deſigns in execution. Having found means to convey himſelf into her chamber, he approached her bed-ſide with a drawn ſword, and rudely laying his hand upon her boſom, threatened her with inſtant death if ſhe offered to reſiſt his paſſion. Lu⯑cretia affrighted out of her ſleep, and ſeeing death ſo near, was however, inexorable to his deſire, till being told, that if ſhe would not yield, he would firſt kill her, and then laying his own ſlave dead by her ſide, he would re⯑port, that he had killed them thus in the act of adultery. The terror of infamy atchieved what that of death could not obtain; ſhe conſented to his deſire, and the next morning he returned to the camp, exulting in his brutal victory. In the mean time, Lucretia, deteſting the light, and reſolving not to pardon herſelf for the crime of another, ſent for her huſband Colla⯑tinus, and for Spurius her father, to come to [55] her, as an indelible diſgrace had befallen the family. Theſe inſtantly obeyed the ſummons, bringing with them Valerius, a kinſman of her father's, and Junius Brutus, a reputed ideot, whoſe father Tarquin had murdered, and who had accidentally met the meſſenger by the way. Their arrival only ſerved to encreaſe Lucretia's poignant anguiſh; they found her in a ſtate of ſteadfaſt deſperation, and vainly attempted to give her relief. ‘"No, (ſaid ſhe) never ſhall I find any thing worth living for in this life, after having loſt my honour. You ſee, my Collatinus, a polluted wretch before you, one whoſe perſon has been the ſpoil of another, but whoſe affections were never eſtranged from you. Sextus, under the pretended veil of friendſhip, has this night forced from me that treaſure, which death only can re⯑ſtore; but if you have the hearts of men, remember to avenge my cauſe, and let poſ⯑terity know, that ſhe who has loſt her virtue, had only death for her beſt conſolation."’ So ſaying, ſhe drew a poignard from beneath her robe, and inſtantly plunging it in her boſom, ex⯑ſpired without a groan. The whole company re⯑mained for ſome time fixed in ſorrow, pity and indignation; Spurius and Collatinus at length gave a vent to their grief in tears, but Brutus drawing the poignard reeking from Lucretia's wound, and lifting it up towards Heaven, ‘[56]"Be witneſs ye Gods, he cried, that from this moment I proclaim myſelf the avenger of the chaſte Lucretia's cauſe: from this mo⯑ment I profeſs myſelf the enemy of Tarquin, and his luſtful houſe: from henceforth ſhall this life, while life continues, be employed in oppoſition to tyranny, and for the happi⯑neſs and freedom of my much loved country."’ A new amazement ſeized the hearers, to find him, whom they had heretofore conſidered as an ideot, now appearing in his real character, the friend of juſtice, and of Rome. He told them that tears and lamentations were un⯑manly, when vengeance called▪ ſo loud, and delivering the poignard to the reſt, impoſed the ſame oath upon them, which he himſelf had juſt taken.

Junius Brutus was the ſon of Marcus Junius, a noble Roman, who was married to the daugh⯑ter of Tarquinius Priſcus, and for that reaſon, through a motive of jealouſy, was put to death by Tarquin the Proud. Junius Brutus, the ſon, had received an excellent education from his father, and had from nature, ſtrong ſenſe, and an inflexible attachment to virtue: but perceiv⯑ing that Tarquin had privily murdered his fa⯑ther and his eldeſt brother, he counterfeited himſelf a fool, in order to eſcape the ſame danger, and thence obtained the ſurname of Brutus. Tarquin thinking his folly real, de⯑ſpiſed [57] the man, and having poſſeſſed himſelf of his eſtate, kept him as an ideot in his houſe, merely with a view of making ſport for his children. It happened in a time of threatened danger, that Brutus was ſent with Tarquin's two ſons, to conſult the oracle, upon the me⯑thods expedient to avert the calamity. The ſons were pleaſed with his company, and laughed to ſee him offer his ſtaff at the ſhrine of Apollo, which however, was a much more valuable preſent to the god, than theirs, as it had been made hollow, and then filled with gold. The young men, after executing their father's com⯑mands, next enquired of the oracle, which of them ſhould be king of Rome; to which it was anſwered, that he who ſhould firſt kiſs his mother, ſhould gain the kingdom. In conſe⯑quence of this, they both reſolved to kiſs their mother at the ſame time, and thus reign toge⯑ther. Brutus however who dived into the real meaning of the oracle, as ſoon as they were arrived in Italy, pretended accidentally to fall down, and kiſſing the earth, ſaluted her, which he conſidered as the general parent of all. From that time, he conceived hopes of being the deliverer of his country, and chacing the tyrant Tarquin and his whole family from Rome.

Brutus having now the faireſt opportunity of ridding his country of a tyrant, that had long [58] harraſſed it with impunity, procured with all expedition the gates of the city to be ſhut, till ſuch time as the people would be aſſembled, and a public decree for Tarquin's baniſhment ſhould be attempted. Accordingly, he cauſed Lucretia's dead body to be brought out to view, and expoſed in the public forum, while the citizens, who ran tumultuouſly from old quarters to ſee it, were at firſt impreſſed with pity, which ſoon after changed into rage and ungovernable fury: this was the diſpoſition which he had ſo often longed for in vain, and now therefore enflaming their ardour by a diſplay of the horrid tranſaction, and ſtill more by the glorious hopes of future freedom, he obtained a decree of the ſenate, that Tarquin and his family ſhould be for ever baniſhed from Rome, and that it ſhould be capital for any to plead for, or attempt his future return. Tarquin, in the mean time, having heard of theſe commotions at the army, flew with the utmoſt expedition to Rome, in hopes to quell and puniſh the delinquents; but finding the gates ſhut, and the walls full of armed men, he prepared to return, fill'd with indignation, to the camp: but Brutus had taken care here alſo to prevent him, for expeditiouſly getting to the army by another road, he acquainted the ſoldiers with what had been done in the city, how Lucretia was abuſed and fallen, and how [59] the ſenate and people had eſpouſed her quarrel. The ſame ſentiments of humanity which had impelled the citizens, touched the army alſo. They agreed to act with their friends at home, and when Tarquin came back, they refuſed to admit him. Thus this monarch, who had now reigned twenty-five years, being expelled his kingdom, went to take refuge with his family at Cira, a little city of Etruria. In the mean time, the Roman army made a truce with the enemy, and Brutus was proclaimed, deliverer of the people.

Thus ended with Tarquin the regal ſtate of Rome, after it had continued two hundred and forty-five years, and ſtill with a gradual, tho' ſlow increaſe. Although, at the time of Tar⯑quin's expulſion, the territory of the Romans was not above forty miles long, and thirty broad, yet their government was poſſeſſed of that vigour, which bodies of a ſlow growth are generally found to enjoy; nor were they at any time maſters of greater territory, than they had forces to keep in obedience. Few hiſtories can ſhew a ſucceſſion of kings, replete with more virtue and moderation, than thoſe who firſt go⯑verned in Rome: it was from their wiſe inſti⯑tutions, that the people ſeemed to acquire all that courage, that piety, and that patriotiſm, which afterwards operated in conquering man⯑kind. Their ſubjects might have been poſſeſſed [60] of all the ruſtic fierceneſs of the times, indeed, but it muſt have been owing to the monarchs only, that their very enemies reaped the benefit of their victories; it muſt have been the gene⯑ral's virtue alone that could protect thoſe whom the ſoldiers valour had ſubdued. The Grecian legiſlators had the Egyptians to imitate, but the Romans were placed in the midſt of na⯑tions far more barbarous than themſelves, and all the wiſdom of their monarchs was chiefly of their own formation. Hitherto how⯑ever, we only ſee the genius of the nation making faint ſtruggles to get free from her native ferocity, obſtructed by cuſtom at home, and barbarous example abroad; yet ſtill upon particular occaſions, exerting a nobleneſs of mind, ſtill aiming at imagined virtue, and ma⯑jeſtic, even in infancy.

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

U. C. 245 THE regal power being overthrown, a form of government, nominally republican, was ſubſtituted in its room. The ſenate however, reſerved by far the greateſt ſhare of the autho⯑rity to themſelves, and decorated their own [61] body with all the ſpoils of depoſed monarchy. The centuries of the people choſe from among the ſenators, inſtead of a king, two annual ma⯑giſtrates, whom they called conſuls, with power equal to that of the regal, and with the ſame privileges, and the ſame enſigns of authority. Though the liberty of the people was but very little encreaſed by this inſtitution, yet to it Rome afterwards, in a great meaſure, owed its unequalled grandeur. In the life of a king, there are many periods of indolence and of paſſion, that ſerve to divert him from the pub⯑lic good; but in a commonwealth, governed by magiſtrates annually choſen, each has no time to loſe, and to attain his ambition, all his exertions muſt be within the year. Hence it is, that thoſe magiſtrates were ever perſuad⯑ing to ſome new war, and pointing out freſh enemies every day. The people thus kept in continual alarms, attained a more perfect know⯑lede of the military arts, and were better enabled to adopt the improvements of the various na⯑tions they were led to engage.

Brutus, the deliverer of his country, and Col⯑latinus, the huſband of Lucretia, were choſen firſt conſuls in Rome. They immediately revived the laws for aſſembling the people, which had been diſcontinued during the late tyrant's reign; but that their newly acquired liberty ſhould be prevented from degenerating into licentiouſneſs, [62] ſeveral officers relative to the prieſthood were appointed, and new ſacrifices ordained.

This new republick however, which ſeemed ſo grateful to the people, had like to have been deſtroyed in its very commencement. A party was formed in Rome in favour of Tar⯑quin. Some young men of the principal fa⯑milies in the ſtate, who had been educated about the king, and had ſhared in all the luxu [...]es and pleaſures of the court, undertook to re⯑eſtabliſh monarchy. They were diſguſted with the gloomy auſterity of a republican fo [...] of government, in which the laws, inflexible and ſevere, made no diſtinctions of birth, or for⯑tune. This party ſecretly encreaſed every day, and what may create our ſurprize, the ſons of Brutus himſelf, and the Aquilii, the nephews of Collatinus, were among the number. Tar⯑quin, who was informed of theſe intrigues in his favour, was reſolved to advance them by every art in his power, and accordingly ſent ambaſſadors from Etruria to Rome, under a pretence of reclaiming the crown, and demand⯑ing the effects which he had left behind him, but in reality, with a deſign to give ſpirit to his faction, and to draw over to it as many as he could. They accordingly went on with ſucceſs, holding their private meetings at the houſe of one of the conſpirators, and already the reſtora⯑tion of the king, and the death of the conſuls was [63] reſolved upon. However, their treaſon could not be long concealed▪ a ſlave who had accidentally hid himſelf in the room where the conſpirators uſed to aſſemble, overheard their converſation, and laid open their whole deſign to the conſuls, who gave orders to have the conſpirators ſe⯑cured and brought before them, among whom were the ſons of Brutus. Few ſituations could have been more terribly affecting than this of a father, placed as a judge upon the life and death of his own children; impelled by juſtice to condemn, and by nature to ſpare them. The young men accuſed, pleaded nothing for them⯑ſelves, but with conſcious guilt, awaited their ſentence in ſilence and agony. The other judges who were preſent, felt all the pangs of nature; Collatinus wept, and Valerius could not repreſs the ſentiments of pity. Brutus alone ſeemed to have loſt all the ſoftneſs of humanity, and with a ſtern countenance, and a tone of voice that marked his gloomy reſolution, demanded of his ſons, if they could make any defence to the crimes with which they had been charged. This demand he made three ſeveral times, and having received no anſwer, he at length, turned himſelf to the executioner, now, cried he, it is your part to perform the reſt: thus ſaying, he again re⯑ſumed his ſeat, with an air of determined ma⯑jeſty; nor could all the ſentiments of paternal pity, nor all the imploring looks of the people, [64] nor yet the complaints of the young men, who were preparing for execution, al [...]er the tenor of his reſolution. The executioners having ſtripped them naked, and then whipped them with [...]ils, preſently after beheaded them; Brutus all the time beholding the cruel ſpectacle with a ſteady look and unaltered countenance, while the multitude gazed on with all the ſenſations of pity, terror and admiration.

The conſtancy of Brutus, during the [...]u⯑tion of his two ſons, ſerved greatly to encreaſe his authority in Rome; but the lenity of his colleague Collatinus, was conſidered in a very different light: his having attempted to ſave the Vitellii, his nephews, rendered him ſuſ⯑pected to the citizens; he was accordingly de⯑poſed from the conſulſhip, and baniſhed Ro [...] ▪ and Valerius, afterwards ſurnamed Publicola from his regard to the people, was elected conſul in his room.

All Tarquin's hopes of an inſurrection in the city in his favour being thus overthrown, he was now reſolved to force himſelf upon his former throne by foreign aſſiſtance, and to that end prevailed upon the Veians to aſſiſt him, and with a conſiderable army advanced towards Rome.

U. C. 246 The conſuls were not remiſs in preparations to oppoſe him. Valerius commanding the foot, and Brutus being appointed to head the cavalry, [65] went out to meet him on the Roman borders. Aruns the ſon of Tarquin, who commanded the cavalry for his father, ſeeing Brutus at a diſtance, was reſolved, by one great attempt, to decide the fate of the day, before the en⯑gaging of the armies, wherefore ſpurring on his horſe, he made toward him with ungovernable fury. Brutus, who perceived his approach, ſingled out from the ranks to meet him, and and both met with ſuch rage, that eager only to aſſail, and thoughtleſs of defending, they both fell dead upon the field together. A bloody battle enſued, with equal ſlaughter on both ſides; but the Romans remaining in poſ⯑ſeſſion of the field of battle, claimed the vic⯑tory, in conſequence of which, Valerius return⯑ed in triumph to Rome.

Brutus being thus removed without having compleated his year, Valerius continued for ſome time to enjoy the dignity without a col⯑league, which excited the jealouſies of the people, who were apprehenſive that he had thoughts of aſpiring to the crown. A palace which he had built with ſome magnificence, upon an eminence, augmented theſe ſuſpicions, and it was reported, that he had intentions of converting it into a fortreſs, in order to awe the city. Valerius however, ſoon quieted their fears, by ordering his palace to be pulled down, and to ſhew the rectitude of his intentions, made [66] ſeveral laws, abridging the power of the ſenate, and extending that of the people. By one, he allowed an appeal from the conſuls to the people; by another, he made it death for any man to aſſume the office of magiſtrate without the people's conſent; a third gave power to any man to kill the perſon, unheard, who affected the ſupreme power, if he could demonſtrate the crime. He alſo appointed queſtors, or treaſurers, who were to have the management of the government's money, and the care of accommodating ambaſſadors. Still more to in⯑gratiate himſelf with the public, he ordered the rods which the lictors carried, to be ſeparated from the axes, intimating thereby, that the power of capitally puniſhing lay no longer in the conſuls, but the people. Having thus ſa⯑tisfied their ſcruples, he choſe Lucretius, the father of Lucretia, for his colleague in the con⯑ſulſhip. Dying a ſhort time after, he was ſucceeded by Horatius, and the time of annual election coming on ſoon after, Valerius was choſen a ſecond time, and with him Lucretius, who numbered the people. They were found to amount to an hundred and thirty thouſand, beſides widows and orphans.

In the mean time, Tarquin, no way intimi⯑dated by his misfortunes, ſtill formed alliances to aſſiſt him in regaining the crown, and pre⯑vailed upon Porſenna, one of the kings of Etru⯑ria, [67] to eſpouſe his cauſe, and in perſon under⯑take his quarrel. This prince, equally noted for courage and conduct, marched directly to Rome with a numerous army, and laid ſiege to the city, while the terror of his name and his arms fill'd all ranks of people with diſmay. The ſenate, in this exigence, did all that prudence could ſuggeſt, both to quiet the fears, and ſa⯑tisfy the wants of the people. They ordered, that the populace ſhould pay no taxes to the ſtate, during the continuance of the war, al⯑ledging, that they did enough in educating children to defend it. Still more, they purchaſed corn over various parts of Campania, and had it brought to Rome, to be diſtributed at a low price to the people. Theſe indulgences linked the orders of the ſtate ſo firmly together, that every citizen ſeemed reſolved to defend his country to the laſt, and ſave Rome, or expire in its ruins. The ſiege however was carried on with vigour: a furious attack was made upon the place: the two conſuls oppoſed in vain, and were carried off wounded from the field; while the Romans flying in great conſternation, were purſued by the enemy to the bridge, over which, both victors and vanquiſhed were about to enter the city in the confuſion. All now appeared loſt and over, when Horatius Cocles, who had been placed there as centinel to defend it, oppoſed himſelf to the torrent of the enemy, [68] and aſſiſted only by two more, for ſome time ſuſtained the whole fury of the aſſault, till the bridge was broken down behind him; when, plunging with his arms into the torrent of the Tyber, he ſwam back victorious to his fellow⯑ſoldiers.

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

Mutius, a youth of undaunted bravery, was reſolved to rid his country of an enemy, that ſo ſorely continued to oppreſs it; and for this purpoſe, diſguiſed in the habit of an Etrurian peaſant, entered the camp of the enemy, re⯑ſolved to die or to kill the king. With this reſolution he made up to the place where Por⯑ſenna was paying his troops, with a ſecretary by his ſide; but miſtaking the latter for the king, he ſtabbed him to the heart, and was immediately apprehended, and brought back to the royal preſence. Upon Porſenna's demand⯑ing who he was, and the cauſe of ſo heinous an [69] action, Mutius, without reſerve, informed him of his country and his deſign, and at the ſame time thruſting his right hand into a fire that burnt upon an altar before him, ‘"You ſee," cried he, "how little I regard the ſe⯑vereſt puniſhment your cruelty can inflict upon me. A Roman knows not only how to act, but to ſuffer: I am not the only perſon you have to fear, three hundred of the Roman youth, like me, have conſpired your deſtruction, therefore prepare for their attempts."’ Porſenna amazed at ſo much in⯑trepidity, had too noble a mind not to ac⯑knowledge merit though found in an enemy, he therefore ordered him to be ſafely con⯑ducted back to Rome, and offered the beſieg⯑ed conditions of peace. Theſe were readily accepted on their ſide, being neither hard nor diſgraceful, except that twenty hoſtages were demanded, ten young men, and as many vir⯑gins of the beſt families in Rome. But even in this inſtance alſo, as if the gentler ſex were reſolved to be ſharers in the deſperate valour of the times, Clelia, one of the hoſ⯑tages eſcaping from her guards, and pointing out the way to the reſt of her female compa⯑nions, ſwam over the Tyber on horſeback, amidſt ſhowers of darts from the enemy, and preſented herſelf to the conſul. This magiſtrate however, fearing the conſequences of detaining [70] her, had her ſent back; upon which, Porſenna, not to be out-done in generoſity, not only gave her liberty, but permitted her to chuſe ſuch of the hoſtages, of the oppoſite ſex, as ſhe ſhould think fit to attend her. On her part, ſhe, with all the modeſty of a Roman virgin, choſe only ſuch as were under fourteen, alledging, that their tender age was leaſt capable of ſuſtaining the rigours of ſlavery.

Little remarkable happened after this for about five years, if we except two or three victories obtained over the Sabines, who were obliged to purchaſe a peace, and over whom the conſuls obtained two triumphs, and the firſt ovation that had been ſeen in Rome, which differed from a triumph in theſe reſpects, that in an ovation, the general entered the city on foot, and not as in the other caſe in a cha⯑riot; that he was met only by the knights and patricians, and not by the ſenators in their robes; that his dreſs was leſs magnificent, and that his crown, inſtead of being of lawrel, was made only of myrtle. Poſthumius, who over⯑came the Sabines, was the firſt who was de⯑creed this leſſer kind of triumph, becauſe his ſucceſs was not obtained but at the expence of a former defeat. Some other victories followed, but we will not dilate upon theſe ſmall advan⯑tages, which though they contributed to extend the empire, are at preſent attended neither with curioſity nor inſtruction.

[71] Tarquin, though often diſappointed, was ſtill unſubdued and unſhaken. By means of his ſon-in-law Manilius, he ſtirred up the La⯑tins to eſpouſe his intereſt, and took the moſt convenient opportunity, when the plebeians and ſenators were divided amongſt each other, to make head againſt Rome. After having united twenty-four towns in his confedracy abroad, he, by large bribes, found means to win over a very powerful party of the poorer ſort of citizens from their new government, who alſo had many real cauſes of diſcontent to diſguſt them, and to which they ſoon after gave vent,

The Romans, under their kings, had only U. C. 255 two ways of ſubſiſting, by agriculture and by plunder; they lived either by labouring their own lands, or by reaping the harveſts which had been ſown by their enemies. Soon how⯑ever, after the extinction of royalty, the ſe⯑nators and patricians, who were in effect ſo⯑vereigns of the country, appropriated to them⯑ſelves the greateſt part of the lands which were the rights of conqueſt, and inſenſibly ex⯑tended their own poſſeſſions at the expence of the public. In vain the ſoldier fought to enlarge the limits of the dominions of Rome, the great came in and ſhared the fruit of his labour, tho' they had no participation in the danger. [72] The poverty of the ſoldier by theſe means, obliged him to borrow money upon uſury, and as that was exorbitant, it only ſerved to encreaſe his wretchedneſs. The laws alſo of Rome per⯑mitted the creditor to ſeize the perſon of the inſolvent debtor, and to employ him as a ſlave, till the debt was paid: this complication of miſery ſoon excited the murmurs of the poor, till from entreaties to their maſters, they pro⯑ceeded to menaces. The attempt of Tarquin to regain the crown, ſeemed to them a favour⯑able conjuncture to regain thoſe rights, of which they had been inſenſibly deprived. When the conſuls therefore came to levy men in order to oppoſe him, to their great amazement, all the poor, and all who were loaded with debt, re⯑fuſed to enliſt, declaring that thoſe who enjoyed the advantages of peace, might undergo the fatigues of war, but that for their part, they were wearied with expoſing their lives for no⯑thing, or for what was ſtill worſe, for maſters who undervalued their labours, and only rioted upon their diſtreſs. They acknowledged no city nor country, they ſaid, which would not give them protection, and by leaving Rome, they only left behind them their miſeries, their oppreſſors and their debts. They therefore inſiſted, that their debts ſhould be cancelled by a decree of the ſenate, as the only means of inducing them to the field. At firſt the ſenate [73] endeavoured to appeaſe the populace by gentle methods, but finding theſe unſucceſsful, they entered into a ſerious conſideration upon ſo im⯑portant an affair. There were ſome for a free remiſſion of all debts, as the ſafeſt and ſecureſt method at that juncture. Others urged the dangerous conſequences of this condeſcenſion, adviſing, that only ſuch ſhould be enliſted, as thought fit to give in their names, and that the reſt ſhould be treated with contempt. At length they came to a reſolution to put off the impend⯑ing evil by delay, and to publiſh an order, that no debtor ſhould be moleſted during the con⯑tinuance of the war. The people however, to whom the ſenate offered this ſuſpenſion as a favour, refuſed it with acrimony and contempt. They knew that this was only putting off that grievance, which would ſoon fall upon them with encreaſed ſeverity; they knew that the ap⯑proach of the enemy had extorted from the ſe⯑nate what they would reſume when their terrors ſhould be over, and therefore they ſtill perſiſted in their demands. The number of the male⯑contents encreaſed every hour, and many of the people who were neither poor nor involved in debt, entered into and ſhared their griefs, either from a conſciouſneſs of the rectitude of their demands, or from the natural diſlike which all men have to their ſuperiors. In this exigence therefore, the ſenate, who ſaw the [74] commonwealth upon the brink of ruin, had recourſe to an expedient, which though ſuc⯑ceſsful for the preſent, in a courſe of ages was fatal to the republick of Rome. The conſuls finding their authority inſufficient, offered the people to elect a temporary magiſtrate, who ſhould have abſolute power, not only over all ranks of ſtate, but even over the laws them⯑ſelves. To this, the plebeians, who held the ſenate in abhorrence, readily conſented, willing to give up their own power, for the ſake of abridging that of their ſuperiors. In conſe⯑quence of this, Largius was created the firſt Dictator of Rome, for ſo was this high office called, being nominated to it by his colleague in the conſulſhip. Thus the people who could not bear to hear the name of king even men⯑tioned, readily ſubmitted to a magiſtrate poſſeſ⯑ſed of much greater power: ſo much do the names of things miſlead us, and ſo little is any form of government irkſome to people when it coincides with their prejudices. This was the firſt intermiſſion of the conſular power about ten years after it had been eſtabliſhed.

CHAP. X. From the creation of the firſt dictator, to the elec⯑tion of the tribunes of the people.

LARGIUS being now created dictator, en⯑tered U. C. 255 upon his office ſurrounded with his lictors and all the enſigns of ancient royalty, and ſeated upon a throne in the midſt of the people, or⯑dered the levies to be made, in the manner of the kings of Rome. The populace looked with terror upon a magiſtrate whom they had in⯑veſted with uncontroulable power, and peace⯑ably went each to range himſelf under his re⯑ſpective ſtandard. The Latins being informed of this change in the government of the city, began to loſe all the expectations which they had conceived from its diviſions, they accord⯑ingly thought proper to liſten to an accommo⯑dation, which was propoſed on the ſide of Rome, and a truce was agreed upon between them for a year. Largius, who had been ſent to oppoſe the enemy, returned with his army to Rome, and before his ſix months were out, (the time limited for this office) he laid down the dictatorſhip, with the reputation of having exerciſed it with blameleſs lenity.

[76] It ſeems however, that the year enſuing there was occaſion for another dictator, as we find Poſthumius inveſted with that office, and lead⯑ing out the Romans to proſecute the war with the Latins, upon expiration of the truce be⯑tween them. We are told, that coming up with them near the lake Regillus, he gave them a complete overthrow, though they were al⯑moſt double his number, and that ſcarce a fourth of their army eſcaped alive from the field. It would be unimproving however and tedious to give the particulars of the engage⯑ments of this warlike people, in the infancy of their empire, while yet they ſeem but the tu⯑multuary meetings of brave but obſtinate men, whoſe valour alone, rather than conduct, de⯑cided the fortune of the day. In this battle, we are particularly told, that the dictator caſt [...]e of the enſigns among the enemy, to incite his men to a bold attempt for the recovery: we are told alſo, that the bridles were ordered to be taken off the horſes, that they might charge with greater fury. Generals who could give ſuch directions might have been bold men, but very bad commanders. Neverthe⯑leſs, they fought againſt an enemy more igno⯑rant than themſelves, ſo that the Latins ac⯑ [...]nowledging their ſuperiority, implored a truce once more, and the dictator, after a triumph, laid down his authority.

[77] The ſoldiers having now once more returned from the field in triumph, had ſome reaſon to expect a remiſſion of their debts, and to enjoy that ſafety for themſelves, which they had pro⯑cured for the public. However, contrary to their hopes, the courts of juſtice were opened againſt them, and the proſecution of creditors revived with more than former acrimony. This began to excite freſh murmurs, and the ſenate, who were ſenſible of them, in order to be pre⯑pared, choſe Appius Claudius, a man of auſtere manners, a ſtrict obſerver of the laws, and of unſhaken intrepidity, for one of the conſuls the year enſuing: but, at the ſame time, to temper his ſeverity, they gave him for a col⯑league, Servilius, a man of an humane and gentle diſpoſition, and as much loved by the populace, as Appius was hateful to them. When the complaints of the people therefore came to be deliberated upon, theſe two magiſtrates, as it may be ſuppoſed, were entirely of oppoſite opinions. Servilius commiſerating the diſtreſſes of the poor, was for aboliſhing all debts, or at leaſt for diminiſhing the intereſt upon them. Appius, on the other hand, with his natural ſe⯑verity, inſiſted that the laws of his country ſhould be inviolably obſerved, and that lighten⯑ing the load from thoſe who owed money, was but throwing it upon thoſe to whom it was due. That it would be encouraging the extravagant [78] and the idle, at the expence of the induſtrious and the frugal, and that every new compliance from the ſenate, would but encreaſe the inſolent demands of the people.

The populace being apprized of the different opinions of their conſuls concerning their com⯑plaints, loaded Servilius with every mark of gratitude, while they every where purſued Ap⯑pius with threats and imprecations. They now therefore, began to aſſemble afreſh, to hold ſe⯑cret cabals by night, and to meditate ſome new revolution, when an unlooked for ſpectacle of diſtreſs rouzed all their paſſions, and at once fanned their kindling reſentment into flame.

A Roman ſoldier, who ſeemed in age, came to take refuge in the midſt of the people, loaden with chains, yet ſhewing in his air the marks of better days: he was covered with rags, his face was pale and waſted with famine, his beard, which was long and neglected, and his hair in wild diſorder, rendered his appearance ſtill more ghaſtly. He was known however, to have once performed gallant ſervices in the field; he ſhewed the ſcars which he had received in battle, and the marks of recent ſtripes which ſtill continued bleeding. The compaſſion of the multitude was excited at this ſpectacle, but much more when he told them his ſtory. Having borne arms in the laſt war againſt the Sabines, his little patri⯑mony was not only neglected, but the enemy [79] had plundered his ſubſtance, and ſet his houſe on fire. He was thus forced for ſubſiſtence to contract debts, and then obliged to ſell his inheritance to diſcharge them; but a part ſtill remaining unpaid, his unfeeling creditor had dragged him to priſon, where he was not only loaded with chains, but torn with the whips of the executioner, who was ordered to torment him. This account, and his wounds which were ſtill freſh, produced an inſtanta⯑neous uproar among the people: they flew to take revenge not only on the delinquent, but on the general body of their oppreſſors. Appius had the fortune to procure ſafety by flight. Servilius laying aſide the marks of conſular power, threw himſelf into the midſt of the tumult, entreated, flattered, commanded them to patience: engaged to have their wrongs re⯑dreſſed by the ſenate; promiſſed that he himſelf would warmly ſupport their cauſe, and in the mean time, to convince them of his good inten⯑tions, made proclamation, that no citizen ſhould be arreſted for debt, until the ſenate ſhould iſſue further directions.

The remonſtrances of Servilius, for this time, ſerved in ſome meaſure to appeaſe their mur⯑murs, and the ſenate was going to begin their deliberations, when word was brought, that an army of Volſcians was marching directly to⯑wards Rome. This was an event which the [80] people had wiſhed with the moſt ardent expecta⯑tion, and they now reſolved to let the nobles ſee, how little the power of the rich avails, when un⯑ſupported by the ſtrength of the multitude. Accordingly, when the levy came to be made for ſoldiers, they unanimouſly refuſed to enliſt, while thoſe who had been impriſoned for debt, ſhewing their chains, aſked with an inſulting ſmile, whether theſe were the weapons with which they were to face the enemy.

Rome, in this ſtate of anarchy within, and of threatened invaſion from without, was upon the brink of ruin, when Servilius, who, as conſul, was to command the army, once more renewed his entreaties with the people, not to deſert him in this exigence. To ſooth them ſtill more, he iſſued a new edict, that no citizen ſhould be impriſoned during the continuance of the war, and aſſured them, that upon their return, they ſhould have plenary redreſs. By theſe promiſes, as well as by the affection which the people had to his perſon, he once more prevailed. The citizens came in crowds to enrol themſelves under his command; he led them to meet the enemy, and gained a compleat victory. But of all thoſe who ſhewed their courage in the engagement, the debtors and former malecon⯑tents were the moſt conſpicuous. Servilius, to re⯑compence their bravery, gave them the plunder of the enemies camp, without reſerving, as was [81] uſual, any part of it to the treaſury; and this perhaps was the cauſe which induced the ſenate upon his return to refuſe him the honours of a triumph.

No ſooner were the terrors of the enemy re⯑moved, but the former cruelties began afreſh. Appius, ſtill fierce and uncomplying, again au⯑thorized creditors to renew their rights, and debtors were dragged to priſon, and inſulted as before. In vain did they implore the aſſiſtance of Servilius, who, gentle and wavering, deputed too much of his power to Appius. In vain did they claim the promiſes made them by the ſe⯑nate, that body, deaf to their cries, ſaw debtors purſued even into the Forum by their merci⯑leſs maſters, and prevented only by the multi⯑tude from being haled to priſon. The ap⯑proach of an enemy, ſtill more numerous than that which had been lately conquered, retarded the acrimony of their vengeance. The Sabines, the Equi, and the Volſcians, as if willing to ſecond the views of the people, again made a fierce irruption, while the citizens refuſed to touch a weapon, till their grievances were re⯑moved.

Things being in this dangerous ſituation, the ſenate were obliged to have recourſe to the old method of redreſs, by creating a dictator. Ap⯑pius, who adviſed the meaſure, hoped that he himſelf ſhould have been choſen, but the ſenate, [82] ſenſible that ſo much power in the hands of on [...] ſo violent in the uſe of that which he poſſeſſed, would be dangerous, choſe Marius Valerius, an ancient ſenator, one mild, merciful, much loved by the people, and deſcended from the great deliverer, whoſe name he bore. Valerius, who ſecretly inclined to the plebeian party, choſe Quintus, the brother of their great idol, Servi⯑lius, for his maſter of the horſe, and aſſembling the orders, aſſured them, that if they would follow him freely, their grievances ſhould not only be redreſſed, but their fortunes advanced by the ſpoils of the enemy. He in the mean time freed them from any immediate proſecu⯑tions from their creditors, and commanded them to follow him to the field. There was ſomething ſo abſolute in the office of a dictator, and it was ſo much conſidered by the people, that they not only dreaded its reſentment, but ſeemed to think its promiſes binding. They therefore enrolled themſelves at his order, and marching againſt the enemy, quickly reduced them to obedience, ſuch lands as had been taken from them being divided among the ſoldiers.

Upon his return, the dictator requeſted the ſe⯑nate to perform what he had ſo ſolemnly pledged his word to obtain; but Appius, ſtill obſtinate, refuſed to comply, reproaching him with a mean condeſcenſion to the multitude, and bringing over the majority of the ſenate to his opinion. [83] Valerius therefore, finding he was unable to contend with ſo powerful a body, laid down his office, alledging that it was time for an old man of ſeventy, as he was, to think rather of eaſe than oppoſition.

The people were now inflamed beyond all bearing; they entered into private conſultations, and formed a plan of ſeparating themſelves from maſters, whoſe promiſes were as contemp⯑tible, as their tyranny dreadful. The moſt vio⯑lent meaſures are to the multitude always the moſt pleaſing, and ſome had even the boldneſs to talk of killing ſuch as were obnoxious. The ſenate and the conſuls well knowing the effects of their fury when they ſhould be diſbanded, reſolved ſtill to keep them in the field, under pretence, that the enemy was yet unſubdued, and preparing for new invaſions. In this exi⯑gence the ſoldiers were at a loſs how to act; the military oath which they had taken upon liſting, forbade their laying down their arms or forſaking their ſtandards, and yet their recent injuries reſtrained them from taking the field. They ſteered between both extremes; they re⯑ſolved to quit a city which gave them no ſhelter, and to form a new eſtabliſhment without its limits. They therefore removed their enſigns, changed their commanders, and under the con⯑duct of a plebeian named Sicinius Bellutus, they retired to a mountain, from thence called [84] the Mons Sacer, on the banks of the river Anio, within about three miles from Rome.

Upon news of this defection, the city was filled with tumult and conſternation; thoſe who wiſhed well to the army made all the attempts they could to ſcale the walls in order to join it, for the gates were ſhut by the ſenate's direc⯑tion. The fathers, who had ſons among the mutineers, reproached their degeneracy, wives lamented the abſence of their huſbands, and all apprehended a civil war. The ſenate was not leſs agitated than the reſt: ſome were for vio⯑lent meaſures and repelling force by force, others were of opinion, that gentler arts were to be uſed, and that even a victory over ſuch ene⯑mies, would be worſe than a defeat. At length therefore, it was reſolved to ſend a meſſenger, entreating the army to return home and declare their grievances, promiſing at the ſame time an oblivion of all that had paſſed. This meſſage, which in fact was premature to be attended with any effect, was treated by the army with diſdain; ſo that the ſenate were now to begin afreſh to conſider of the proper ſteps to be taken, and whether force or condeſcenſion was the wiſeſt courſe to purſue.

Accordingly, after chuſing new conſuls (tho' not without difficulty, as none at firſt would offer for the office) they entered upon the de⯑liberation, with an earneſtneſs equal to the im⯑portance [85] of the cauſe. Menenius Agrippa, one of the wiſeſt and beſt of the ſenators, was of opinion, that the people were to be com⯑plied with; that the Roman Dominions could neither be extended or preſerved without them. The late dictator Valerius ſeconded his opinion, with a warmth unuſual to one of his advanced age. He upbraided the Senate with their du⯑plicity, and urged the neceſſity of letting the people into a ſhare of thoſe advantages which the rich ſeemed willing to engroſs. Appius on the other hand, ſtill adhering to his principles, declaimed with great force againſt making the ſmalleſt conceſſions to the multitude. He ob⯑ſerved that if they granted to the people when enemies, what they had refuſed them when friends, it would be an argument of their fears and not their juſtice. That the young Patricians and their clients were ſtill able to defend the city, even though its ungrateful inhabitants ſhould think fit to deſert it: that the multitude never knows where to ſtop in its demands, and that every conceſſion would be only productive of freſh claims and louder importunities. The body of the ſenators, to whom chiefly the people were debtors, only wanted the ſpeciouſneſs of ſuch arguments to cover their avarice; thoſe of the younger ſort alſo who were flattered by the orator, applauded his ſpeech with indecent zeal. The conſuls therefore, who notwithſtanding this [86] ſhew of a debate, ſaw the neceſſity there was of complying with the people; in order to pre⯑vent ſuch violent meaſures as the ſenate were haſtening into, for that day broke up the aſ⯑ſembly, at the ſame time intimating to the younger part of the ſenators, that if they did not behave with more moderation for the fu⯑ture, a law ſhould be preferred, preventing all, under a certain age, from being admitted into the ſenate for the future.

This threat did not want its effect at their next meeting, where, notwithſtanding the ſtead⯑faſt oppoſition of Appius, and the terrible blow that was about to be given to the fortunes of many of the members, it was reſolved to enter into a treaty with the people, and to make them ſuch offers as ſhould induce them to return. Ten commiſſioners were accordingly deputed, at the head of whom were Largius and Valerius, who had been dictators, and Menenius Agrippa, equally loved by the ſenate and the people. The dignity and the popularity of theſe ambaſſadors procured them a very reſpectable reception among the ſoldiers, and a long conference be⯑gan between them; Largius and Valerius em⯑ployed all their oratory on the one hand, while Sicinius and Lucius Junius, who were the ſpokeſmen of the ſoldiery, aggravated their diſ⯑treſſes, with all that male-eloquence which is the child of nature. The conference had now [87] continued for a long time, when Menenius Agrippa, who had been originally a ple⯑beian himſelf, a ſhrewd man, and who conſe⯑quently knew what kind of eloquence was moſt likely to pleaſe the people, addreſſed them with that celebrated fable, which is ſo finely told us by Livy. ‘"In times of old, when every part of the body could think for itſelf, and each had a ſe⯑parate will of its own, they all, with common conſent, reſolved to revolt againſt the belly: they knew no reaſon, they ſaid, why they ſhould toil from morning till night in its ſervice, while the belly, in the mean time, lay at its eaſe in the midſt of them all, and indolently grew fat upon their labours: accordingly, one and all, they agreed to befriend it no more. The feet vowed they would carry it no longer, the hands vowed they would feed it no longer, and the teeth averred they would not chew a morſel of meat, though it were placed between them. Thus reſolved, they all, for ſome time, ſhewed their ſpirit, and kept their word; but ſoon they found, that inſtead of mortifying the belly by theſe means, they only undid themſelves; they languiſhed for a while, and perceived, when too late, that it was owing to the belly, that they had ſtrength to work or courage to mutiny."’

This fable, the application of which is ob⯑vious, had an inſtantaneous effect upon the peo⯑ple. They unanimouſly cried out, that Agrippa [88] ſhould lead them back to Rome, and were making preparations to follow him, when Ju⯑nius Brutus, before-mentioned, with-held them, alledging, that though they were gratefully to acknowledge the kind offers of the ſenate, yet they had no ſafe-guard for the future againſt their reſentment; that therefore it was neceſſary for the ſecurity of the people, to have certain officers created annually from among them⯑ſelves, who ſhould have power to give ſuch of them as ſhould be injured, redreſs, and plead the cauſe of the community.

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

The tribunes of the people were at firſt five in number, though afterwards their body was encreaſed by five more. They were always an⯑nually elected by the people, and almoſt always from their body. They had the power of an⯑nulling [89] all ſuch decrees of the ſenate, as they conſidered to lean upon the people; and to ſhew their readineſs to protect the meaneſt, their doors ſtood open night and day, to receive their complaints. They at firſt had their ſeats placed before the doors of the ſenate-houſe, and being called in they were to examine every decree, annulling it by the word veto, I forbid it, or confirming it by ſigning the letter T, which gave it its validity. Their perſons were to be ſacred, and though they were mark'd out by none of the enſigns of office, ſuch as the curule chair, or the lictors which attended upon other magiſtrates, yet their power was greatly ſupe⯑rior, having a negative vote upon all decrees of the ſenate. They were however to have no au⯑thority without the walls of the city, and it was unlawful for them to be abſent from it a day; but what ſtill moſt diminiſhed their au⯑thority was, that any one of their number could put a negative upon the meaſures of the reſt, and this was afterwards found the moſt artful method of oppoſing them, for one gained over to the ſenate, rendered the attempts of the reſt abortive. This new office therefore being thus inſtituted, Sicinius Bellutus, Lucius Junius, Caius Licinius, Albinus, and Icilius Ruga were the firſt tribunes that were choſen by the ſuffrages of the people. The ſenate alſo made an edict confirming the abolition of debts, and [90] now all things being adjuſted both on the one ſide and the other, the people, after having ſa⯑crificed to the Gods of the mountain, returned back once more in triumph to Rome.

CHAP. XI. From the creation of the tribunes to the appoint⯑ment of the decemviri.

U. C. 260 WE have hitherto ſeen the people ſtruggling againſt the exorbitant power of the ſenate, but we now begin a period, in which the ſenate are ſtruggling againſt the encreaſing power of the people; a period, in which the latter beginning to feel theit own force, and being put into mo⯑tion, bear all down before them with irreſiſtible violence. The firſt advantage the tribunes ob⯑tained, was a permiſſion to chuſe from among the people, two annual officers as aſſiſtants in the fatigues of their duty. Theſe were caled aediles, as a part of their buſineſs conſiſted in taking care of the public buildings, aqueducts and ſewers; and likewiſe in determining ſome cauſes, that had hitherto been determinable by the con⯑ſuls only. They were to remark thoſe who held more land than the laws allowed them; to curb all public immoralities, and aboliſh nuiſances; to provide corn and oil in times of famine, and [91] to prevent any monopolies that might be made by the purchaſers of theſe commodities. The people having obtained theſe privileges, and all their clamours being appeaſed, now marched againſt the Voſci and Antiates, took Corioli, one of their chief towns, and ſoon after over⯑threw the enemy with great ſlaughter. In this battle Martius, after ſurnamed Coriolanus, par⯑ticularly diſtinguiſhed himſelf.

The people being thus rendered more turbu⯑lent by the condeſcenſion of the ſenate, and by a triumph over the enemy, had ſoon after freſh opportunity to ſhew their aptitude to clamour. During the late ſeparation, all tillage had been entirely neglected, and a famine was the conſe⯑quence the enſuing ſeaſon. The ſenate did all that lay in their power to remedy the diſtreſs, but the people pinched with want, and willing to throw the blame on any but themſelves, aſcribed the whole of their diſtreſs, to the avarice of the patricians, who having purchaſed up all the corn, as was alledged, intended to indem⯑nify themſelves for the abolition of debts, by ſelling it out at great advantage; but this was not all they were charged with. The ſenate, in order to leſſen the number of citizens in this time of famine, had ſent many of them to Veli⯑tra, a city of the Volſcians, that had lately been much depopulated by a plague. This excited an univerſal clamour among the people, which [92] the tribunes took care to encreaſe. This they ſaid was only an artful method of getting rid of ſuch citizens as were obnoxious to the nobles; it was little elſe than baniſhing the braveſt men of the ſtate without an offence, and thus by weakening the ſtrength of the people, to en⯑creaſe their own. Theſe reports being induſtri⯑ouſly propagated, an aſſembly was called, in which the conſuls and the tribunes, by turns, ha⯑rangued the people. A conteſt managed with ſo much impetuoſity on both ſides, every mo⯑ment grew warmer, the conſuls inſiſted, that the tribunes had no right to addreſs the aſſem⯑bly; the tribunes, on the other hand aſſerted, that their office was ſacred, and that they ought to ſuffer no interruption in their duty. In this the people unanimouſly concurred, for what⯑ever their leaders thought fit to propoſe, they were ready to ratify; a law therefore was made, that no man ſhould dare to interrupt the tri⯑bunes while they ſpoke to the people, a law which greatly encreaſed their power, as now, from taking the aſſembly's inſtructions, they were authorized to direct them.

The city, after this enjoyed a tranſient calm, ſome of the people retired to their houſes to ſupport famine with patience and reſignation, while others made incurſions upon the enemy, and returned with the ſpoil. But abundance, ſoon after, renewed in them that turbulence, [93] which the continuance of the famine had ap⯑peaſed, but not removed. A large fleet of ſhips laden with corn from Sicily (a great part of which was a preſent from Gelon, the king of that country, to the Romans, and the reſt pur⯑chaſed by the ſenate with the public money) raiſed their ſpirits once more, and enflamed their eagerneſs for diſſenſion. When it came to be debated in the ſenate, in what manner this large ſupply ſhould be diſtributed, violent diviſions aroſe. Some were for letting the poorer ſort have a ſufficient quantity for nothing, others were for ſelling it at a low price, and thus re⯑imburſe the treaſury; but when it came to the turn of Coriolanus to ſpeak, he inſiſted, that no part of it ſhould be diſtributed, until the late invaſions which the people had made upon the rights of the ſenate ſhould be reſtored, and until the commonwealth was reduced to its former regularity. ‘"Why, cried he, do we bear to ſee the ſtate divided between two powers, whoſe diſſenſions only ſerve to harraſs it the more? Can we tamely bear to ſee tribunes give laws in Rome, and rule with uncontroled power, when we could not ſtoop to kings? If the factious and turbulent are unwilling to live at Rome, let them retire once more to their mountain; it is better not to govern, if we muſt ſhare our command with the dregs of the people."’ A ſpeech ſo inflammatory, and [94] a meaſure ſo violent, rekindled all the flames of diſſenſion. The multitude, in the violence of their reſentment, would have fallen upon the ſenate itſelf, but the tribunes reſtrained their fury, and only pointed it upon Coriolanus, whom they devoted to deſtruction. Coriolanus however, ſtill remained unſhaken, nature had made him bold, frugal, and inflexible, and to theſe he added the acquired virtues of great reſpect for the laws, great knowledge of war, and an immoderate regard for his country, or rather that part of it whoſe quarrel he eſpouſed. He accordingly treated the ſummons of the tri⯑bunes, to appear before them, with contempt. They therefore next ſent their aediles to appre⯑hend and bring him before the people; but a party of the young patricians gathered round their favourite, repulſed the aediles, and having beaten, drove them away. This was a ſignal for univerſal uproar, the tumult encreaſed from every quarter, and a civil war threatened to enſue, had not the conſuls promiſed the people the moſt ample redreſs. The tribunes inſiſted, that he ſhould be thrown headlong from the Tarpeian Rock, as a rebel and a contemner of the ſacred authority of the Roman people, and and condemned him, even without demanding the ſuffrages of the people. They were going once more to lay hold on his perſon, but the patricians again reſcued him. A conduct ſo re⯑ſolute [95] on one ſide, and ſo aſſuming on the other, in ſome meaſure put the populace in ſuſpenſe; they were afraid to aſſiſt the tribunes againſt thoſe who had been their generals and captains, and gazed upon the conteſt with trembling irreſolution. Their backwardneſs therefore, to lend aſſiſtance, began to raiſe ſuſ⯑picions in the tribunes, that they had proceeded with too much violence; they, in conſequence, demanded to bring his trial before the aſſembly of the people, and that his caſe ſhould be ar⯑gued before that authority, from which there lay no appeal. The patricians, who, though conſcious of the innocence of Coriolanus, were yet willing to give peace to the city, conſented, and a day was appointed for making his defence. Coriolanus demanded of the tribunes, what they intended to charge him with; to which they replied, that they intended to accuſe him of aiming at ſovereignty and tyranny, where⯑upon he chearfully put himſelf upon trial, con⯑ſcious of his innocence of the charge.

When the appointed day was come, all per⯑ſons were filled with the greateſt expectation, and a vaſt concourſe from the adjacent country aſſembled and filled up the Forum. The tri⯑bunes, in the mean time, divided the people by tribes, ſeparating them with cords from each other, and ordering that they ſhould give their votes ſeparately, and not by centuries, as [96] ſince the time of Hoſtilius had always been the cuſtom. This, as we have remarked before, was depriving the patricians of all their influence, ſince the numbers of the populace were ſure to prevail; however, the ſenate, unwilling to make the cauſe of Coriolanus their own, at laſt con⯑ſented to this ſtretch of power in the plebeian: But, to make a ſhew of defending him to the laſt, one of the conſuls mounted the roſtrum in his favour, declaring what actions of ſervice he had done the ſtate; how little, a few words eſcaping in the heat of paſſion, ought to be attended to; he ſignified, that the whole ſenate were petitioners in his cauſe, and deſired the tribunes, that they would keep wholly to their threatened impeachment, namely, his aim⯑ing at the ſovereign power. To this, Sicinus, the tribune replied, that he would urge againſt the guilty, all things, of every kind, that could tend to prove him guilty; that the ſtate had too much to fear from his influence, and his number of clients, not to uſe every means of bringing him to juſtice. That he owed much more to the ſafety of the ſtate, than to any vain com⯑plaiſance to the ſenate; and that the very at⯑tempt to depreſs the power of the people, who had all the rights of humanity to govern them⯑ſelves, was a crime. Coriolanus, upon this, pre⯑ſented himſelf before the people, with a degree of intrepidity that merited better fortune. His [97] graceful perſon, his perſuaſive eloquence, the cries of thoſe whom he had ſaved from the enemy, enclined the auditors to relent; he be⯑gan by recounting all the battles he had fought, and the various poſts he had ſuſtained; he ſhewed the various crowns which had been given him by his generals, as rewards of merit, and expoſed to view the numberleſs wounds he had received in acquiring them; he related all the breaches he had entered, and all the lives he had ſaved, calling out to ſuch as were preſent, to bear witneſs to the truth of his recital. Theſe, with the moſt moving proteſtations, en⯑treated their fellows to ſpare that life by which they lived, and if there muſt be an offering for public reſentment, they themſelves were ready to die for him. A defence like this, ſupported with all that boldneſs which conſcious inno⯑cence inſpires, moved every hearer to think of pardon; many cried out, that ſo brave a man deſerved a triumph not death, and that his very trial was a national reproach. The giddy mul⯑titude were going therefore to abſolve him, when Decius, one of the tribunes, a man of fluent eloquence, roſe up to reply. ‘"However, cried he, we may be prevented by the ſenate from urging thoſe ſpeeches which were made amongſt that auguſt body, tending to deſtroy the privileges of the people, yet ſtill we are not uprovided; we decline aggravating what [98] he has ſaid, we have facts, which we call upon the accuſed to clear himſelf of. We have an ancient law amongſt us, that all plunder taken from the enemy ſhall be ap⯑propriated to the uſe of the publick, and be given into the treaſury, untouched by the general. But a law ſo equitable in itſelf, and ſo inviolably obſerved by our anceſtors, has been infringed by this man, who ſtands accuſed before you. In a late incurſion into the territories of Antium, though his plun⯑der, both in ſlaves, cattle, and proviſions, was very great, yet the publick were neither the better nor the richer for it: it was di⯑vided only among his friends and followers, men, whom probably he only intended to enrich, to be the better able to ſecure our ruin. It has ever been the practice of ty⯑rants to begin the work of ambition, by forming a numerous body of partizans, who are willing to loſe public regard in private emolument. Here then we ground our charge, let him, if he can, deny the fact, and let him bring proofs, not by vainly ſhewing his ſcars, but by convincing us of his innocence."’ This charge was entirely unexpected, Coriolanus had, in fact, when the people refuſed to liſt, iſſued out at the head of his clients, and plundered the enemy, who had the inſolence of making incurſions to the very [99] walls of Rome. Theſe ſpoils which were ſo juſtly earned, he never thought of bringing into the treaſury, as they were the acquiſition of a private adventure. Being therefore unable to anſwer what was alledged againſt him to the ſatisfaction of the people, and utterly con⯑founded with the charge, the tribunes imme⯑diately took the votes, and Coriolanus was con⯑demned to perpetual exile.

Never did the populace teſtify a ſincerer joy, even in triumphing over a vanquiſhed enemy, than they did on this occaſion, having in a manner totally controlled the power of the ſe⯑nate, ſince henceforward they aſſumed a right of ſummoning any of the individuals of that body before them, whom they thought proper to accuſe. The ſenate, on the other hand, ſaw themſelves reduced to an abject dependance upon the multitude, deprived of all ſecurity for their perſons, and all their former rights of being judged by each other. This ſentence againſt their braveſt defender ſtruck their whole body with ſorrow, conſternation, and regret. Corio⯑lanus alone, in the midſt of this tumult, ſeemed an unconcerned ſpectator. He returned home, followed by the lamentations of hundreds of the moſt reſpectable ſenators and citizens of Rome, in order to take a laſting leave of his wife, his children, and his mother Veturia. While they, in the firſt tranſports of ſorrow, [100] hung round him, as loath to part, he, with a manly fortitude, tore himſelf from their em⯑braces; he exhorted them to bear their fate with fortitude, but to think of him no more. Thus recommending his little children to their care, and all to the care of heaven, he left the city, without followers or fortune, to take re⯑fuge among the enemies of Rome. Thus the plebeians, who had obtained tribunes merely for their own defence, employed thoſe very ma⯑giſtrates to annoy others, and by inſenſible de⯑grees, ſtript the patricians of all their former privileges.

Coriolanus, now obliged to wander, ſought leſs for a retreat from Rome, than for an op⯑portunity of vengeance. All his fortitude, and the early inſtitutions of his mother were not able to repreſs the reſentment of his wrongs, or his deſire of puniſhing his enemies, even though it involved the ruin of his country. Tullus Attius, a man of great power among the Volſci, and a violent enemy of the Romans, ſeemed to him a fit inſtrument to aſſiſt his revenge. Re⯑ſolving to apply to him, he enters Antium, the city where Tullus commanded, by night, and going directly to his houſe, ſeated himſelf near the hearth, by the houſhold gods, a place, which among the heathens was held ſacred. Tullus being informed, that a ſtranger, with an all of dignity far beyond what was common, [101] had taken refuge in his houſe, came and de⯑manded his name and buſineſs. ‘"My name, cried the Roman, is Caius Marcius: my ſur⯑name is Coriolanus, the only reward that remains of all my ſervices. I am baniſh⯑ed Rome for being a friend to it; I am come to take refuge here, where I have ever been a declared enemy. If you are willing to make uſe of my ſervices, you ſhall find me grateful; if you are willing to re⯑venge the injuries I have done, behold me in your power."’ Tullus, ſtruck with his dig⯑nity and known courage, inſtantly gave him the hand of friendſhip, and eſpouſed his quarrel. The firſt thing therefore to be done, was to in⯑duce the Volſci to break the league which had been made with Rome; and for this purpoſe, Tullus ſent many of his citizens to Rome, in order to ſee ſome games at that time celebrat⯑ing, but in the mean time gave the ſenate pri⯑vate information, that the ſtrangers had dange⯑rous intentions of burning the city. This had the deſired effect, the ſenate iſſued an order, that all ſtrangers, whoever they were, ſhould depart from Rome before ſun-ſet. This order Tullus repreſented to his countrymen as an in⯑fraction of the treaty, and procured an embaſſy to Rome, complaining of the breach, and rede⯑manding all the territories belonging to the Volſcians, of which they had been violently [102] poſſeſſed, declaring war in caſe of a refuſal. This meſſage was treated by the ſenate with contempt; they bade the Ambaſſadors inform their countrymen, that menaces were not the way to prevail with Rome; that they would keep with their ſwords thoſe poſſeſſions which their valour had won, and ſhould the Volſcians be the firſt to take up arms, the Romans would be the laſt to lay them down.

War being thus declared on both ſides, Corio⯑lanus and Tullus were made generals of the Volſcians, and accordingly invaded the Roman territories, ravaging and laying waſte all ſuch lands as belonged to the plebeians, but letting thoſe of the ſenators remain untouched. In the mean time, the levies went on but ſlowly at Rome; the two conſuls, who were re▪elected by the people, ſeemed but little ſkilled in war, and even [...]eared to encounter a general, whom they knew to be their ſuperior in the field. The allies alſo ſhewed their fears, and ſlowly brought in their ſuccours, ſo that Coriolanus continued to take their towns one after the other. Circaeum, a Roman colony, firſt ſub⯑mitted to h [...]s arms; he then attacked the La⯑tins, who vainly implored aſſiſtance from Rome. The towns of Tolerium, Lavici, Pes, and Bola, were all taken by ſtorm, their goods plundered, and the inhabitants made priſoners of war; ſuch as yield [...]d were treated mildly; ſuch as reſiſted [103] were put to the ſword: fortune followed him in every expedition, and he was now ſo famous for his victories, that the Volſci left their towns defenceleſs, to follow him into the field, being aſſured, under his conduct, of ſucceſs. The very ſoldiers of his colleague's army came over to him, and would acknowledge no other general. Thus finding himſelf unoppoſed in the field, and at the head of a numerous army, [...]e at length pitched his camp at the Cluilian ditch, within five miles of Rome. Nothing now was to be ſeen in the city that had lately been ſo turbulent, but timidity and deſpair. The people, who from their walls beheld the enemy ravaging their fields, begged peace with tears and ſupplications. They now began to entreat the ſenate to recal the edict which had baniſhed Coriolanus, and acknowledged the in⯑juſtice of their former proceedings. The ſenate however, deſpiſed ſuch meanneſs, reſolving if poſſible, not to betray the injuſtice of the ſtate to foreign enemies, or to grant thoſe favours to a traitor, which they had denied him when but accuſed of being ſo. Yet what could their reſolutions avail, when they had not power to ſupport them. Coriolanus approached nearer every day, and at laſt inveſted the city, fully reſolved to beſiege it. It was then that the fierce ſpirit of the patricians was entirely ſub⯑dued, both ſenate and people unanimouſly [104] agreed to ſend deputies to him with propoſals of a reſtoration, in caſe he ſhould draw off his army. Coriolanus received their propoſals at the head of his principal officers, and with the ſternneſs of a general that was to give the law. He, with the utmoſt ſeverity, informed them, that he was now general of the Volſcians, and had only their intereſt to conſider: that if they hoped for peace, they muſt reſtore all the towns which originally belonged to that people, and make them free of the city, as the Latins were; and that he would give them thirty days to conſider of it. The intermediate time he em⯑ployed in taking ſeveral other towns from the Latins, at the end of which he returned, and again encamped his army before the walls of Rome.

Another embaſſy was now ſent forth, con⯑juring him not to exact from his native city, aught but what became Romans to grant. Co⯑riolanus however, naturally inflexible and ſevere, ſtill perſiſted in his former demands, and grant⯑ed them but three days, in which to finiſh their deliberations. A meſſage ſo peremptory, filled the whole town with conſternation. Every one now ran to take arms, ſome poſted themſelves upon the ramparts, others watched the gates, leſt they ſhould be ſecretly delivered by parti⯑zans which Coriolanus had within; others for⯑tified their houſes, as if the enemy were already [105] maſters of the walls. In this general confuſion, there was neither diſcipline nor command. The conſuls, whoſe fears only were their adviſers, had been elected for very different merits, than thoſe of ſkill in war. The tribunes, lately ſo fierce, were now no more heard of, all ſhared the univerſal terror, and it ſeemed as if the boaſted courage of Rome, had gone over with their general, into the camp of the Volſcians. In this exigence, all that ſeemed left them, was another deputation ſtill more ſolemn than either of the former, compoſed of the pontiffs, the prieſts, and the augurs. Theſe, cloathed in their habits of ceremony, and with a grave and mournful deportment, iſſued from the city, and entered the camp of the conqueror: they be⯑ſought him by all that was ſacred, by the re⯑ſpect he owed the gods, and that which he might have for thoſe, who being ſervants of the gods, were now at his feet, to give peace to his country; but all in vain, they found him ſevere and inflexible as before. He teſti⯑fied that reſpect for them, which the ſanctity of their characters demanded, but ſent them away without relaxing in any of his demands.

When the people ſaw them return ineffectu⯑ally, they began to give up the commonwealth as loſt. Their temples were filled with old men, with women and children, who, proſtrate at their altars, put up their ardent prayers for [106] the preſervation of their country. Nothing was to be heard but anguiſh and lamentation, no⯑thing to be ſeen but ſcenes of affright and diſ⯑treſs. At length it was ſuggeſted to them, that what could not be effected by the interceſſion of the ſenate, or the adjuration of the prieſts, might be brought about by the tears of his wife, or the commands of his mother. This deputation ſeemed to be reliſhed by all, and even the ſenate itſelf gave it the ſanction of their authority. Veturia, the mother of Corio⯑lanus, at firſt made ſome heſitation to under⯑take ſo pious a work, knowing the inflexible temper of her ſon, and fearing only to ſhew his diſobedience in a new point of light, by reject⯑ing the commands of a parent: however, ſhe undertook the embaſſy, and ſet forward from the city, accompanied by many of the prin⯑cipal matrons of Rome, with Volumnia his wife, and his two children. Coriolanus, who at a diſtance diſcovered this mournful train of females, was reſolved to give them a denial, and called his officers round him, to be witneſſes of his reſolution: but when told, that his mother and his wife were among the number, he in⯑ſtantly came down from his tribunal, to meet and embrace them. At firſt, the womens tears and embraces took away the power of words, and the rough ſoldier himſelf, hard as he was, could not refrain from ſharing in their diſtreſs. ‘[107] "My ſon, cried ſhe, how am I to conſider this meeting, do I embrace my ſon or my ene⯑my, am I your mother or your captive? How have I lived to ſee this day, to ſee my ſon a baniſhed man, and, ſtill more diſtreſs⯑ful, the enemy of his country? How has he been able to turn his arms againſt the place which gave him life, how direct his rage againſt thoſe walls which protect his wife, his children, and his gods? But it is to me only, that my country owes her oppreſſor; had I never been a mother, Rome had ſtill been free; the wretched conſciouſneſs of this will afflict me as long as life ſhall laſt, and that cannot laſt me long. But though I am prepared for death, yet, at leaſt, let theſe wretched ſufferers claim ſome part of your compaſſion, and think what will be their fate, when to baniſhment they muſt add captivity."’ Coriolanus, during this ſpeech, ſeemed much agitated by contending paſſions; his mother, who ſaw him moved, ſtill ſeconded her words by the moſt perſuaſive eloquence, her tears: his wife and children hung round him, entreating for protection and pity, while the fair train, her companions, added their la⯑mentations, and deplored their own and their country's diſtreſs. Coriolanus, for a moment, was ſilent, feeling the ſtrong conflict between honour and inclination; at length, as if rouzed [108] from his dream, he flew to take up his mother, who had fallen at his feet, crying out, ‘"O my mother, thou haſt ſaved Rome, but loſt thy ſon."’ He accordingly gave orders to draw off the army, pretending to the officers, that the city was too ſtrong to be taken. Tullus, who had long envyed his glory, was not remiſs in aggravating the lenity of his conduct to his countrymen. Upon their return, Coriolanus was ſlain in an inſurrection of the people, and after⯑wards honourably buried, with late and inef⯑fectual repentance.

Great and many were the public rejoicings at Rome, upon the retreat of the Volſcian army. The ſenate decreed to grant the women what honours they ſhould demand, but they only aſked to have a temple dedicated to Female Fortune, built in the place where they had delivered their country, which was accordingly erected at the public charge. In the mean time, that courage which had been for a time over⯑powered, began again to ſhew itſelf in the field. Coriolanus being no more, they ventured to face their Volſcian enemies, who indeed contri⯑buted by their own contentions, together with that of their allies, to render any foreign force in a manner unneceſſary to their overthrow. A ſignal victory was obtained over them, and the Hernici the year enſuing. Among others, Tul⯑lus their general was ſlain.

[109] Spurius Caſſius Viſcellinus had the principal honour in obtaining this victory. He was a man naturally vain, and filled with oſtentation: ambitious to an extreme, and as ready to over⯑rate his own ſervices, as to undervalue thoſe of another. He had been three times conſul, and had been decreed two triumphs by the ſenate; theſe advantages added, to ſome po⯑pularity, raiſed his pride to aſpire at being king of Rome. In order to prepare for this, being impowered by the ſenate to give the conquered nations what conditions of peace he ſhould think proper, he reſolved to attach them to his intereſts by the moſt flattering conceſſions. He therefore gave them back a third of what he had conquered; he granted them the title of citizens of Rome, and treated the vanquiſhed, in all reſpects, as he would have done a victo⯑rious army. To make friends in every part of the ſtate, he gave the Latins one moiety of the conquer'd lands remaining, and reſerved the other part for the poor citizens of Rome. Not content with this, he was reſolved to encreaſe his popularity by diſtributing among the poor ſome lands which had long been in the poſſeſ⯑ſion of the rich, and which he aſſerted to be the property of the publick. Accordingly, on the day ſucceeding that of his triumph, giving an account, according to cuſtom, of what he had done, he expatiated upon his extraordinary [110] care and wiſe management of the common⯑wealth; on his having encreaſed the ſubjects and citizens of Rome, and on his own peculiar endowments for guiding the ſtate; he went on to obſerve, that hower extenſive the conqueſts of Rome might be, it ſignified but little, if the rich only enjoyed the advantages of them; if that while the ſenate and patricians lived in affluence, the veteran ſoldier pined in want and obſcurity. He therefore was of opinion, that an exact eſtimate ſhould be made of all the lands taken from the enemy, which were now in poſſeſſion of the rich, and that they ſhould be equally divided among the lower citizens. This was the original of the famous Agrarian law, which afterwards cauſed ſuch diſturbances among the people. Nothing could exceed the indignation of the ſenate upon hearing it pro⯑poſed; as they had before been almoſt ſtript of their public rights, they ſaw this attacked them in their private poſſeſſions: all that for⯑tune which their anceſtors or themſelves had ac⯑quired by valour or induſtry, was now deſtined to be plundered from them, to be diſtributed among the indolent, the extravagant, and the baſe. One deliberation ſucceeded upon another to concert meaſures how to fruſtrate the effects of this law, and the ambition of Caſſius. The people were not leſs mutinous on their part; the tribunes, and thoſe whoſe [111] fortunes were above the loweſt rank were un⯑willing to be reduced to a level with the mean⯑eſt of thoſe they pretended to direct: the clients of the rich were attached to the intereſt of their patrons; but notwithſtanding this, the majority of the multitude, with Caſſius at their head, ſtrenuouſly clamoured for the Agrarian law, and threatened deſtruction to the empire, in caſe of refuſal. Even ſeveral of the Hernici and Volſci were called in on this occaſion to en⯑creaſe the tumult, or to bring off the propoſer, in caſe of failure. At laſt, the ſenate perceived the neceſſity of complying, and therefore gave the populace a promiſe, that the lands ſhould be divided among them according to their de⯑ [...]ire; but that the allies and aſſociates, who had no part in acquiring thoſe lands, ſhould have no ſhare in the diviſion. This promiſe at pre⯑ſent appeaſed the people, and gave the ſenate an opportunity of concerting meaſures for puniſhing the original propoſer. Accord⯑ingly, ſome time after, the queſtors, by their order, appointed a day for Caſſius to an⯑ſwer to the charge of his deſigning to become king, before the aſſembly of the people. A blow ſo unexpected alarmed this demagogue with the moſt juſt apprehenſions, particularly, as he had the tribunes as well as the patricians againſt him. He appeared before the aſſembly habited in a manner becoming his ſituation, [112] and attempted to intereſt the people in his fa⯑vour. He alledged, that he was perſecuted in this manner by the patricians, for his zeal in their cauſe; that he was their only ſurviving friend, and that their intereſts were combined with his. But he found himſelf deſerted by all. The ſenate had the juſteſt reaſon to purſue him; the tribunes envying him his ſhare of popularity, neglected to eſpouſe his cauſe, and the multi⯑tude pleaſed with the patricians for their late compliance with their demands, gave him up to their fury, who was the promoter of them. Being therefore found guilty of a number of crimes, all tending toward altering the conſti⯑tution, notwithſtanding his many real ſervices, and the interceſſion of his friends and clients, in mourning, he was thrown headlong from the Tarpeian rock, by thoſe very people, whoſe in⯑tereſts he had endeavoured to extend. It was too late that they perceived their error, and be⯑gan to regret their champion with a degree of ſorrow, that but argued their ingratitude.

U. C. 274 Soon after the death of Caſſius, the people be⯑came again urgent for the execution of the Agra⯑rian law, but the ſenate, by a ſubterfuge un⯑worthy their wiſdom, cauſed the conſuls to pre⯑pare for an expedition againſt the Aequi. The people however at firſt refuſed to enliſt, till the conſuls hitting upon a new expedient, ordered all the country houſes of the recuſants to be levelled [113] with the ground. This had the deſired effect, numbers came to offer themſelves, to ſave their poſſeſſions from deſtruction, and were led againſt the enemy, with the uſual good fortune of Rome. Thus, while the conteſts continued in the city, the Roman arms made continual pro⯑greſs in Italy; for that ſpirit of liberty which animated both parties, only contributed to en⯑flame their courage.

Theſe dilatory arts continued for near five years on the part of the ſenate, and as obſtinate a ſpirit of clamour on that of the people: the one having their private intereſts, as well as thoſe of the publick to engage them; the other having a promiſe given, and a conſciouſneſs of their own ſuperior power, to encreaſe their ob⯑ſtinacy. In the midſt of theſe troubles, the Ro⯑mans received a ſignal defeat, under the con⯑duct of Virginius, one of their conſuls, from the Hetrurian army, and though Fabius came very opportunely to his relief, yet upon his retreat, the enemy made incurſions, even to the walls of Rome. This ſerved to encreaſe the diſcon⯑tents and the animoſities of the citizens, the ſe⯑nators ſtill witholding their promiſe, and the people refuſing to enliſt. In ſuch an extremity, the family of the Fabii, to the number of four thouſand men, offered to defend the frontiers of the Roman territories. They built a caſtle nigh the borders of the enemy, and making fre⯑quent [114] incurſions, greatly enriched themſelves by the ſpoil. It will not comport with the bre⯑vity of this work, to relate all the minute tranſ⯑actions, and battles without conſequence which attended theſe wars between Rome and theſe little ſtates round her. It will ſuffice to ſay, that they all ended with the ſame good fortune, namely, the enemies begging peace, and the extenſion of the territories of Rome. The Fabii however, were leſs ſucceſsful, being all cut off to a man by an ambuſcade, which was laid for them by the people of Veii. Of this noble family, one only ſurvived, whoſe poſteri⯑ty became afterwards equally ſerviceable to the ſtate.

But not the territories alone of Rome were encreaſed, during theſe times of war and civil U. C. 277 commotion, her citizens alſo became more nu⯑merous. In the enumeration of this year, they were found to amount to one hundred and ele⯑ven thouſand men, fit to bear arms, with treble that number of women, children, and ſlaves. This encreaſe of people, without commerce, only tended to advance the diſturbances of the city. Every year produced ſome new tumult between the contending orders of the ſtate. The people, now become the electors of the magiſ⯑trates, had not ſkill or integrity to fix upon capable men, and ſcarce did any conſul lay down his office, but the multitude were fore⯑moſt [115] to accuſe his remiſneſs or incapacity. It was in this manner that they accuſed Menenius, their conſul, for ſuffering the family of the Fabii to be cut off; he was indeed an unſkilful gene⯑ral, but he was at the ſame time innocent of the charge laid againſt him. This however, did not avail, he was fined about twenty crowns, a ſum, which though moderate in modern eſtimation, he was unable to pay, he therefore, in deteſta⯑tion of the injuſtice and ingratitude of his fel⯑low citizens, ſhut himſelf up in his own houſe, and ſtarved himſelf to death.

The year following, the two conſuls of the former year, Manlius and Fabius were in the ſame manner cited by the tribunes to appear before the people. The Agrarian law was the object invariably purſued, and they were accuſed of having made unjuſtifiable delays in putting it off. The ſame perſeverance on one ſide, and obſtinacy on the other, again ſet the city in a ferment, and threatened deſtruction to one of the parties, when Genutius the Tribune, who had revived the law, was found dead in his bed, though without any marks of violence. A cir⯑cumſtance like this, which ſhould have awakened the ſuſpicions of the people, only ſerved to al⯑larm their ſuperſtitions; they began to think the gods were againſt their cauſe, and ſhowed ſymptoms of returning to their former obedi⯑ence. The conſuls, in order to avail themſelves [116] of this lucky occaſion, began to make freſh le⯑vies, for it was now become the ſettled policy of the times, to draw off the peccant humours of the people by leading them to war; wherefore, mounting their tribunals, and being attended by their lictors, they continued to enrol the citizens with ſucceſs, till coming to one Volero, a centurion, who refuſed to be enliſted as a pri⯑vate centinel, they ordered him to be ſtripped and ſcourged. This injudicious ſeverity not only rekindled the people's reſentment, but after⯑wards produced a new cauſe of contention con⯑cerning the power of the conſuls, and the privi⯑leges of the people. The priſoner was reſcued by the multitude, the magiſtrates driven off, and ſtill, to compleat their mortification, ſoon after, Volero was made one of the tribunes of the people.

The election of this demagogue ſeemed very injurious to the patrician party; he was not only reſolved upon carrying the Agrarian law, but alſo upon enacting another, in which the people ſhould give their votes by tribes, and not by their curiae or their centuries. This was another mortal blow to the patrician power; for, as when the people voted by centuries, the patricians were entire maſters of the conteſt, and when by curiae, in which only the inhabi⯑tants of the city voted, they alſo, from their number of clients, had the majority of voices; [117] ſo now, when by this law all freemen of Rome, from whatever part of its territories they came, ſhould be admitted to give a ſingle vote, equal to that of the firſt ſenator, all influence was entirely loſt, and the patricians had nothing to do but to remain paſſive. It was therefore at firſt ſtrongly oppoſed by the ſenate, and as warmly urged by the people. In this conteſt, U. C. 282 Appius Claudius, the conſul, ſon to the former Appius, by a ſort of hereditary hatred to the people, was among the foremoſt. In one of their public aſſemblies he oppoſed their deſigns ſo warmly, and ſo juſtly expoſed the turbulent tempers of the tribunes, that they ordered him to depart the aſſembly, and upon his refuſal, to be ſent to priſon.

A ſtretch of power ſo great aſtoniſhed all the ſenators who were preſent; they offered to take arms in his defence, and as the people had in the former caſe beaten off the lictors, ſo they were in this driven off by the patricians. This ſeemed the ſignal for a new tumult; ſtones, torches, and every weapon that fury could furniſh, in a place where the citizens never carried arms, were employed againſt each other. But Quintius, the other conſul, of a mild and peaceable diſpoſition, throw⯑ing himſelf into the midſt of the combatants, entreating and beſeeching ſome, and menac⯑ing others, for that night aſſuaged their mu⯑tual [118] animoſity. Their tumults however, were renewed the day following, with more than former fury: Appius, with all his native fierceneſs, charging at the head of his clients, and other young patricians. But Lectorius, the tribune, with an immenſe multitude of the lower part of the people, took poſſeſſion of the Capitol, where they fortified themſelves, ſeem⯑ingly determined to hold it out againſt their oppoſers. Their conduct now ſeemed ſtill more reſolute than in the former defection of the army to mount Aventine; for, as in that, the inſurgents were at a diſtance from Rome, in this, they were in the very heart of the city. The appeaſing of this tumult was reſerved for Quintius alſo, who obtained, by his gentle re⯑monſtrances, to have the law referred to the ſenate, which after many debates, which form, rather than uncertainty might have dictated, re⯑ſolved, that the tribunes and the people were to be gratified, and that the law was to be enacted without delay. It was paſt by the conſent of all the orders, and the officers of the people were elected from henceforward by the tribes. Thus the people by degrees left the patricians nothing but the ſhadow of power, of even which the multitude, now taught the art of uniting, were reſolved to deprive them.

In the mean time, Appius, as from the for⯑mer part of his conduct, we may well ſuppoſe [119] was far from being diſpoſed to concur in this new conceſſion of power: he that bore the people a contempt, that rather ſeemed effect of habit than of reaſon, and inveighed againſt the ſenate's puſilanimity. Nor were the people ig⯑norant of this, but deſired an occaſion of ſhew⯑ing their reſentment, for which an opportunity ſoon offered, upon his being appointed general againſt the Volſcians. Theſe, as uſual, had made inroads upon the unguarded frontiers of Rome, and Appius being now the commander of the army, the natural ſeverity of his temper had a field to diſplay itſelf in. The Roman diſcipline, which at the mildeſt was extremely rigorous, he by his ſtrictneſs rendered almoſt inſupportable. The ſoldiers but ſlowly obeyed a general they hated, and he, in return, en⯑creaſed his rigours upon the ſlowneſs of their obedience. They now therefore conſidered his ſeverity rather as a malicious vengeance, than an wholeſome chaſtiſement, and only awaited the enemy, to retaliate, not upon his perſon, but his glory. Accordingly the enemy appeared, and the Romans fled. He led them into the camp in order to harrangue them, and they univerſally refuſed to give him an audience. He then en⯑deavoured to draw them off from the enemy, but the whole body fled, inſtead of making a regular retreat. At length he found means of ſecuring that part of his forces which yet re⯑mained, [120] by encamping them in a place of ſafety, where marſhaling them in their ranks, and re⯑viling them for their cowardice, he gave poſte⯑rity a great example of the ſeverity of Roman diſcipline, and the greatneſs of military obe⯑dience. He firſt ordered all the centurions who had fled or quitted their ranks, to be ſcourged and then beheaded; and then aſking his ſoldiers where were their arms, he choſe out every tenth man, by lot, and him he executed in the pre⯑ſence of his trembling companions. Soldiers, with ſo much ardour for liberty in times of peace, and ſuch profound ſubmiſſion to their generals in war, were fitted to make the conqueſt of the world. Appius however, did not long continue unmoleſted in his ſeverity, for ſome time after, the tribunes puſhed on the Agrarian law with vigour, and he perſiſting in his oppoſition, they appointed him a day to an⯑ſwer to an accuſation againſt him, of being the declared enemy of public liberty. Appius obeyed, but appeared before the people, not in the uſual manner, in a ſupplicating dreſs or poſture, but ſpoke for himſelf with a confi⯑dence, that a previous, ſettled reſolution to die, had inſpired. The tribunes finding that his in⯑nocence was too apparent to be impeached, put off his trial to another day, which he prevented by ſuicide, a practice that was now becoming common in Rome.

[121] The death of Appius, and ſome wars, or ra⯑ther incurſions made by the Romans into the territories of the Volſci, ſuſpended for a time, the peoples earneſtneſs after the Agrarian law, U. C. 292 but ſoon after, the tribunes began new com⯑motions, and had the boldneſs to aſſert, that the people ought not only to have a ſhare in the lands, but alſo in the government of the com⯑monwealth, and that a code of written laws ſhould be compiled, to mark out the bounds of their duty. The oppoſition to this was not leſ [...] violent on the ſide of the patricians, who drove the clamorous multitude from the Forum, headed by Caeſo, the ſon of that Quintius Cin⯑cinnatus, whom we ſhall hereafter find ſo fa⯑mous for his courage and his frugality. The tribunes reſolved to make an example of this young patrician, to deter the future outrages of others, and therefore appointed him a day to anſwer for his life, before the people. His being the ſon of a man entirely reſpected by both parties, was treated with ſuch lenity, that he was admitted to bail, but flying to Etruria, his father was obliged to ſell almoſt his whole eſtate to reimburſe the ſureties, and then retreating to a ſmall farm and a little cot⯑tage beyond the Tyber, lived a contented life, tilling his few acres, with his own hands, and reaping the produce of his induſtry. The tri⯑bunes however, were not ſatisfied with the ex⯑pulſion [122] of Caeſo, they ſtill continued to clamour for the Agrarian law, and even raiſed a report, that the ſenators had formed a plot againſt their lives. This contrivance was principally intended to fright the ſenate into a compliance; but it had only the more obvious effect of encreaſing the tumults of the people, and aggravating their animoſity.

In this ſtate of commotion and univerſal diſ⯑order, Rome was upon the point of falling into the power of a foreign enemy. Herdonius, a Sabine, a man of great intrepidity and ambi⯑tion, formed the deſign of ſeizing and plunder⯑ing the city, while it was employed in inteſ⯑tine diſtractions. For this purpoſe, having got together an army of about four thouſand men, compoſed of his clients and fugitive ſlaves, he ſent them down the river Tyber on floats by night, ſo that the people were aſtoniſhed the next morning, to behold a foreign enemy in poſſeſſion of the Capitol, the citadel of Rome. Herdonius, on his part, did all that was in his power to perſuade the lower citizens and ſlaves to join his party; to the one he promiſed free⯑dom, to the other an ample participation of benefits and ſpoil The tribunes, in this exi⯑gence, were far from exciting the people to arms, they, on the contrary, uſed all their elo⯑quence to perſuade them from fighting, until the patricians ſhould engage by oath, to create [123] ten men, with a power of making laws, and to ſuffer the people to have an equal ſhare in all the benefits that ſhould accrue. Theſe condi⯑tions, though very ſevere, the neceſſity of the times obliged the conſuls to promiſe, and Va⯑lerius, who was one of them, putting himſelf at the head of ſuch as offered, marched to⯑wards the capitol, crying out as he paſſed, ‘"Whoever wiſhes to ſave his country, let him come and follow me."’ A large body of people followed him to the attack, and the ca⯑pitol was at length retaken by ſtorm, but the conſul was killed in the aſſault. Herdonius ſlew himſelf, the ſlaves died by the executioner, and the reſt were made priſoners of war.

But although the city was thus delivered from a foreign invaſion, it was by no means ſet free from its inteſtine diviſions. The tri⯑bunes now preſſed the ſurviving conſul for the performance of his promiſe; but it ſeems, the Agrarian law was a grant the ſenate could not think of giving up to the people. The conſul therefore, made many delays and excuſes, till at length, being driven to give a poſitive an⯑ſwer, he told them, that as the promiſe was made by the two conſuls, he could do nothing alone. An aſſembly was therefore now ap⯑pointed for chuſing another conſul, and the ſe⯑nate, in order to give the people no hopes of obtaining their wiſhes, fixed upon Quintus Cin⯑cinnatus, [124] whoſe ſon had ſo lately been obnoxi⯑ous to them. Cincinnatus had, as has been al⯑ready related, for ſome time given up all the views of ambition, and retired to his little farm, where the deputies of the ſenate found him holding the plow, and dreſſed in the mean at⯑tire of a labouring huſband-man. He apeared but little elevated with the addreſſes of cere⯑mony, and the pompous habits they brought him, and upon declaring to him the ſenate's pleaſure, he teſtified rather a concern that his aid ſhould be wanted: he naturally preferred the charms of a country retirement, to the fa⯑tiguing ſplendours of office, and only ſaid to his wife, as they were leading him away, ‘"I fear, my Attillia, that for this year, our little fields muſt remain unſown."’ Thus taking a tender leave, he departed for the city, where both parties were ſtrongly enflamed againſt each other. This new conſul however, was reſolved to ſide with neither, but by a ſtrict attention to the intereſts of his country, inſtead of gaining the confidence of faction, to ſeize the eſteem of all. Thus, by threats, and well-timed ſubmiſ⯑ſion, he prevailed upon the tribunes to put off their law for a time, and carried himſelf ſo as to be a terror to the multitude, whenever they refuſed to enliſt, and their greateſt encourager whenever their ſubmiſſion deſerved it. His po⯑licy conſiſted in holding the citizens who had [...]egained the Capitol, as ſtill engaged to follow [125] him, by their oath, and threatening to lead them into a winter encampment, to which they were totally unaccuſtomed, in caſe they diſo⯑beyed, by which he ſo far intimidated the tri⯑bunes, that they gave up their law, upon con⯑dition of his foregoing the threatened encamp⯑ment: upon the whole, he went through his office with ſuch ſkill, moderation, humanity, and juſtice, that the people ſeemed to forget that they wanted new laws, and the ſenate ſeem⯑ed to wiſh his continuance in the conſulſhip. Thus having reſtored that tranquility to the people, which he ſo much loved himſelf, he again gave up the ſplendours of ambition, to enjoy it with a greater reliſh in his little farm.

Cincinnatus was not long retired from his office, when a freſh exigence of the ſtate once more required his aſſiſtance, the Aequ [...] and the Volſci, who, though ſtill worſted, ſtill were for renewing the war, made new inroads into the territories of Rome. Minu [...]ius, one of the con⯑ſuls U. C. 295 who ſucceeded Cincinnatus, was ſent to op⯑poſe them, but being naturally timid, and ra⯑ther more afraid of being conquered, than de⯑ſirous of victory, his army was driven into a defile between two mountains, from which, ex⯑cept through the enemy, there was no egreſs. This however, the Aequi had the precaution to fortify, ſo that the Roman army was ſo hem⯑med in on every ſide, that nothing remained but ſubmiſſion to the enemy, famine, or imme⯑diate [126] death. Some knights who found means of getting away privately through the enemy's camp, were the firſt that brought the account of this diſaſter to Rome. Nothing could ex⯑ceed the conſternation of all ranks of people, when informed of it; the ſenate, at firſt, thought of the other conſul, but not having ſuf⯑ficient experience of his abilities, they unani⯑mouſly turned their eyes upon Cincinnatus, and reſolved to make him dictator. Cincinnatus, the only perſon on whom Rome could now place her whole dependence, was found, as be⯑fore, by the meſſengers of the ſenate, labouring in his little field, with chearful induſtry. He was at firſt aſtoniſhed by the enſigns of unbounded power, with which the deputies came to inveſt him, but ſtill more at the ap⯑proach of the principal of the ſenate, who came out to meet him upon his approach. A dignity ſo unlooked for however, had no effect upon the ſimplicity or the integrity of his manners: and being now poſſeſſed of abſolute power, and called upon to nominate his maſter of the horſe, he choſe a poor man named Tarquitius, one who, like himſelf, deſpiſed riches when they led to diſ⯑honour. Tarquitius was born of a patrician family, but though of conſummate bravery, never being able to raiſe money to purchaſe an horſe, he had hitherto fought only as a foot ſoldier, willing to ſerve his country, though in the humbleſt ſituation. Thus the ſaving a great [127] nation was devolved upon an huſbandman, taken from the plough, and an obſcure centinel found among the dregs of the army. Upon entering the city, the dictator put on a ſerene look, and entreated all thoſe who were able to bear arms, to repair before ſun-ſet to the Cam⯑pus Martius (the place were the levies were made) with neceſſary arms, and proviſions for five days. He put himſelf at the head of theſe, and marching all night with great expe⯑dition, he arrived before day, within ſight of the enemy. Upon his approach, he ordered his ſoldiers to raiſe a loud ſhout, to apprize the conſul's army of the relief that was at hand. The Aequi were not a little amazed, when they ſaw themſelves between two enemies, but ſtill more, when they perceived Cincinnatus making the ſtrongeſt entrenchments beyond them, to prevent their eſcape, and encloſing them as they had encloſed the conſul. To prevent this, a furious combat enſued, but the Aequi being attacked on both ſides and unable to reſiſt or fly, begged a ceſſation of arms. They offered the dictator his own terms; he gave them their lives, but obliged them, in token of ſervitude, to paſs under the yoke, which was two ſpears ſet upright, and another acroſs, in the form of a door, beneath which the vanquiſhed were to march. Their captains and generals he made priſoners of war, being reſerved to adorn his triumph. As for the plunder of the enemies [128] camp, that he gave entirely up to his own ſ [...]l⯑diers, without reſerving any part to himſelf, or permitting thoſe of the delivered army to have a ſnare. Thus, having reſcued a Roman army from inevitable deſtruction, having defeated a powerful enemy, having taken and fortified their city, and ſtill more, having refuſed any part of the ſpoil, he reſigned his dictatorſhip▪ after having enjoyed it but fourteen days. The ſenate would have enriched him, but he declined their proffers, chuſing to retire once more to his farm and his cottage, content with temperance and fame.

U. C. 296 The year following, the Aequi reſolving to retrieve their loſt reputation, again marched into the field, and retook their city, wherefore, when levies were to be made in Rome to oppoſe their progreſs, the tribunes refuſed to let the people be enrolled. The neceſſity of the times however was ſuch, that an army was to be raiſed, and the ſenators finding the reluctance of the multitude, offered to go themſelves, with their clients and dependants. So many old and reverend men, who had long been conſi⯑dered as the fathers of the ſtate, marching feebly out to meet an enemy, whom the young and the vigorous refuſed to encounter, moved the multitude to ſuch a degree, that in ſpite of their demagogues, they offered to go, only demand⯑ing as a recompence, to have the number of [129] their tribunes encreaſed from five to ten. This ſome of the ſenate conſidered as an expedient to multiply the number of their enemies; but Cin⯑cinnatus, who judged more maturely upon the ſubject, aſſured them, it would be the moſt in⯑fallible means of debilitating that power which had ſo long controlled them. That in caſe ten were elected, in ſuch a number there were the moſt juſt expectations to bring over a part, and that a ſingle tribune could reverſe the reſolu⯑tions of all the reſt: accordingly, the ſenate rea⯑dily came into his opinion, and pretending to make their compliance a favour, informed the tribunes, that they had, after much delibera⯑tion, thought proper to grant their requeſt.

This grant ſeemed for a while to ſatisfy the people, but in leſs than a year, the new tribunes, the firſt time, uniting all together, made ſtill farther encroachments, and ventured, even by their own authority, to order an aſſembling of the ſenate. They required alſo, that mount Aventine, which being a mile and a half in compaſs, and as yet untenanted, might be granted to the people to build on. With this, though not till after the moſt violent conteſts, the ſenate agreed, in hopes that it might be a means of ſuppreſſing the ſeditions, which they dreaded from refuſing the Agrarian law. Never⯑theleſs, in this they were diſappointed, for ſoon U. C. 298 after, their tribunes renewed their former com⯑plaints [130] and inſolence, and the conteſts were car⯑ried on with ſuch little reſtraint, that blows and not arguments generally terminated every deli⯑beration. To ſuch a pitch of audaciouſneſs were they arrived, that thoſe demagogues ſet a day, even for the conſuls themſelves, to anſwer before the people. They thought proper how⯑ever, upon maturer conſideration, to let drop this inſolent proſecution, but at the ſame time, reſolved not to diſcontinue their unremitting endeavours for the Agrarian law. A day ac⯑cordingly was fixed, in which this important ſubject was to be diſcuſſed, and numbers of all ranks were preſent, either to give their votes or their opinions. The tribunes ſpoke largely on the juſtice of ſuch a law; ſeveral of the people related what ſervices they had done, and what trifling rewards they had obtained: the audi⯑ence were prepoſſeſſed in favour of the law, but ſtill more, when Siccius Dentatus, a plebeian, advanced in years, but of an admirable perſon and military deportment, came forward to enu⯑merate his hardſhips and his merits. This old ſoldier made no ſcruple of extolling the various atchievements of his youth, but indeed his me⯑rits deſerved his oſtentation. He had ſerved his country in the wars forty years: he had been an officer thirty, firſt a centurion, then a tribune: he had fought one hundred and twenty battles, in which, by the force of his ſingle arm, [131] he had ſaved a multitude of lives: he had gained fourteen civic, three mural, and eight golden crowns, beſides eighty-three chains, ſixty bracelets, eighteen gilt ſpears, and twenty-three horſe-trappings, whereof nine were for killing his enemy in ſingle combat: moreover, he had received forty-five wounds, all before, and none behind, particularly, twelve on the day the Ca⯑pitol was recovered from the enemy. Theſe were his honours, yet notwithſtanding all this, he had never received any ſhare of thoſe lands which were won from the enemy, but continued to draw on a life of poverty and contempt, while others were poſſeſt of thoſe very territories which his valour had won, without any merit to de⯑ſerve them, or ever having contributed to the conqueſt. A caſe of ſo much hardſhip had a ſtrong effect upon the multitude; they unani⯑mouſly demanded, that the law might be paſſed, and that ſuch merit ſhould not go unrewarded. It was in vain that ſome of the ſenators roſe up to ſpeak againſt it, their voices were drowned by the cries of the people. When reaſon therefore could no longer be heard, paſſion, as uſual ſuc⯑ceeded, and the young patricians running furi⯑ouſly into the throng, broke the balloting urns, and diſperſed the multitude that offered to op⯑poſe them. For this they were ſome time after fined by the tribunes, but their reſolution ne⯑vertheleſs, [132] for the preſent put off the Agrarian law.

It generally happened in Rome, that internal commotions were quieted by foreign invaſions, and the approach of the Aequi within ſixteen miles of the city, in ſome meaſure reſtored peace to the republick. In this war Siccius Dentatus, the veteran who had harangued the people, gained greater honours than the conſul who obtained the victory: for being ordered upon a forlorn hope, to attack the enemy in a quarter where he knew they were inacceſſible; he, at firſt remonſtrated the danger and deſpe⯑ration of the attempt, but being reproached by the conſul with cowardice, he led on his body of eight hundred veterans to the place, reſolved to give by his death, a pattern of obedience, as he had in his life, an example of reſolution. Fortune however, was kinder to him than his expectations, for perceiving a paſſage into the enemies camp, which had not been pointed out by the conſul; he led his veterans onward, and while the whole army amuſed the enemies on one ſide, he attacked their camp on the other, ſo that the Romans obtained a complete victory. Dentatus however, being conſcious that he was ſent upon this dangerous ſervice, only to pro⯑cure him death or infamy, had intereſt enough, upon his return, to prevent the conſul's having a triumph, as alſo to get himſelf created a tri⯑bune; [133] likewiſe, to get a law paſſed for puniſhing ſuch magiſtrates as ſhould for the future violate their authority, and for having both conſuls fined for their behaviour to him in particular. Thus the fortune, as well as the perſeverance of the tribunes, ſerved to diminiſh the patrician power every year. All their honours were now fading faſt away; their very poſſeſſions, thoſe fruits of long labour, remained feebly in ſuſ⯑penſe, and the next popular breeze threatened to ſhake them down.

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

THE Commonwealth of Rome had now U. C. 302 for near ſixty years been fluctuating between the contending orders that compoſed it, till at length, each ſide, as if weary, were willing to reſpire a while from the mutual exertions of their claims. The Agrarian law ſeemed now but little attended to, and all the animoſity which it had produced, appeared ſubſided. But it has ever been with mankind, that they form new deſires, in proportion to the number of their poſſeſſions. The citizens, now therefore, of every rank, began to complain of the arbitrary deci⯑ſions [134] of their magiſtrates, and wiſhed to be guided by a written body of laws, which when known, might prevent wrongs as well as puniſh them. In this, both the ſenate and the people concurred, as hoping that ſuch laws would put an end to the commotions that ſo long had harraſſed the ſtate. It was thereupon agreed, that ambaſſadors ſhould be ſent to the Greek cities in Italy, and to Athens, to bring home ſuch laws from thence, as by experience had been found moſt equitable and uſeful. For this purpoſe, three ſenators, Poſthumius, Sulpicius, and Manlius, were fixed upon, and gallies aſ⯑ſigned to convoy them, agreeable to the majeſty of the Roman people. While they were upon this commiſſion abroad, a dreadful plague de⯑populated the city at home, and ſupplied the interval of their abſence with other anxiety than that of wiſhes for their return. In about a year however, the plague ceaſed, and the ambaſſa⯑dors returned, bringing home a body of laws, collected from the moſt civilized ſtates of Greece and Italy, which being afterwards formed into ten tables, and two more being added, made that celebrated code, called the laws of the twelve tables, many fragments of which remain to this day.

The ambaſſadors were no ſooner returned, than the tribunes required, that a body of men ſhould be choſen to digeſt their new laws into [135] proper form, and to give weight to the execu⯑tion of them. After long debates whether this choice ſhould not be partly made from the people as well as the patricians, it was at laſt agreed that ten of the principal ſenators, ſhould be elected, whoſe power continuing for a year, ſhould be equal to that of kings and conſuls, and that without any appeal. That all other magiſtrates ſhould lay down their offices, until the laws ſhould direct proper ſubſtitutes, and that the new legiſlators ſhould, in the mean time, exerciſe their authority with all the enſigns of their diſ⯑continued power. The perſons choſen were, Appius and Genutius, who had been elected conſuls for the enſuing year, Poſthumius, Sul⯑picius, and Manlius, the three ambaſſadors, Sex⯑tius and Romulus, former conſuls, with Julius, Veturius, and Horatius, ſenators of the firſt conſideration. Thus the whole conſtitution of the ſtate at once took a new form, and a dread⯑ful experiment was going to be tried, of go⯑verning one nation, by laws formed from the manners and cuſtoms of another.

The Decemviri being now inveſted with ab⯑ſolute power, agreed to take the reigns of go⯑vernment by turns, and that each ſhould diſ⯑penſe juſtice for a day. They agreed alſo, to avoid envy, that he alone, who was in the ac⯑tual exerciſe of power, ſhould be attended with the enſigns of it; and that the reſt ſhould be [136] only preceded by a petty officer, called Ac⯑cenſus, to diſtinguiſh them from the vulgar.

The novelty of this form of government ſeemed extremely pleaſing to the people at firſt, nor was the moderation of the decemviri themſelves, leſs praiſe-worthy. Appius, in par⯑ticular, bore away the greateſt ſhare of popu⯑larity, his affable air, his republican profeſſions, and his moderation, made them even forget his anceſtors, or that they once trembled at the name. Theſe magiſtrates for the firſt year, wrought with extreme application: they had not only to compile from a great variety of Greek laws, but they were obliged alſo to get them interpreted by one Hermodorus, an Epheſian, as they themſelves were ignorant of the lan⯑guage; a ſtrong inſtance how little as yet the Romans were advanced in the arts of polite⯑neſs. At length however, by the help of their interpreter, they formed a body of laws from thoſe brought from Greece, and from the or⯑dinances of their own kings, the whole com⯑prized in ten tables. Theſe were agreed to by the whole people, engraven on plates of braſs, and hung up in public view, in the moſt conſpicuous part of the Forum.

Their work being thus finiſhed, it was ex⯑pected, that the Decemviri would be contented to retire, but having known the charms of pow⯑er, they were now unwilling to reſign it: they [137] therefore pretended, that ſome laws were yet wanting to compleat their deſign, and entreat⯑ed the ſenate for a continuance of their office. To this they aſſented. The choice of per⯑ſons was next the object of public conſidera⯑tion. Appius, burning with a ſecret thirſt of power, feigned himſelf quite diſguſted with the fatigues of the office, and wiſhed only for an able ſucceſſor. However, underhand he contrived to put all thoſe popular arts in prac⯑tice, which he knew would, upon his ſtanding a candidate, ſecure his election. Accordingly, when the day came, his colleagues were ſur⯑prized to ſee him the firſt upon the liſt of theſe who ſtood for the office; and ſtill more, when they found him elected by a great ma⯑jority of the giddy people, who miſtook his ambition for popularity. His friends alſo were elected through his influence. Fabius, Cornelius, Servilius, Minucius, Antonius, and Rabulius, who were patricians, together with Petillius, Oppius, and Duellius, plebeians, formed the ſecond decemvirate. Theſe three laſt were choſen from among the people by the in⯑tereſt of Appius, who, to ingratiate himſelf with the multitude, obſerved, that it was very proper the people ſhould have a ſhare in form⯑ing thoſe laws, by which the people were to to be governed.

[138] Appius being thus reinſtated in his high of⯑fice, now turned all his thoughts towards making it formidable and perpetual: he therefore con⯑vened his colleagues, and knowing them to be all his creatures, he opened to them his deſign of retaining the power, of which they had been put into po [...]ſſion. As they had been previouſly inſtructed, they readily came into his propoſal, and bound themſelves by the moſt ſolemn vows, never to diſſent among themſelves; never to give up their authority; and not to make uſe of the opinions either of the ſenate or the people, but in caſes of downright neceſſity. Now there⯑fore, the decemvirate put on a very different appearance from the former year: inſtead only of one of them being attended by his rods and axes, each made his appearance with thoſe en⯑ſigns of terror and authority. Inſtead of magiſ⯑trates, mild, juſt, and affable, the people now beheld them converted into monſters of rapine, licentiouſneſs and cruelty. They only made uſe of the forms of juſtice, to put many of the citizens to death, and deprive others of their eſtates and country. Accuſers and informers were ſuborned from among their dependants, ready to give evidence as they were command⯑ed; while thoſe who expected redreſs in any ſuit of juſtice, had no proſpect of ſucceſs, but to en⯑ter into a criminal confederacy with their judges. Thus an univerſal corruption began to ſpread [139] itſelf over the people, while the good and the wiſe either baniſhed themſelves from Rome, or inwardly repined at its diſtreſs.

But as ſuch power could not long continue without ſome of the uſual arts of deception, which tyranny muſt ſometimes ſtoops to, in or⯑der to ſhew the people, that they [...]ere not un⯑mindful of their duty, they added two tables more of laws to thoſe already promulgated, which together formed, as we have already ſaid, that body of laws that goes by the name of the twelve tables. In theſe laſt there was a law, prohibiting all marriages between the patri⯑cians and plebeians, by which they hoped to widen the breach between theſe two orders, and thus avail themſelves of their mutual animoſity. Their deſigns however were eaſily ſeen through, but the people bore them with patience, for the time of the expiration of their office was now at hand, in which it was expected, they would lay down their miſuſed authority. But they ſoon threw off the maſk, and regardleſs either of the approbation of the ſenate or the people, continued themſelves, againſt all order, another year in the decemvirate. A conduct ſo noto⯑rious produced new diſcontents, and theſe were as ſure to produce freſh acts of tyranny. The city was become almoſt a deſert, with reſpect to all who had any thing to loſe, and the decem⯑virs rapacity was then only diſcontinued, when [140] they wanted freſh objects to exerciſe it upon. In this ſtate of ſlavery, proſcription and mutual diſtruſt, not one citizen was found to ſtrike for his country's freedom; theſe tyrants continued to rule without control, being conſtantly guard⯑ed, not with their lictors alone, but a numerous crowd of dependants, clients, and even patri⯑cians, whom their vices had confederated round them.

In this gloomy ſituation of the ſtate, the Aequi and Volſci, thoſe conſtant enemies of the Romans, undertook their incurſions, reſolved to profit by the inteſtine diviſions of the people, and advanced within about ten miles of Rome. This was an unexpected ſtroke to the decem⯑viri, who had no authority to raiſe an army themſelves, and therefore went reluctantly to aſk aid from the ſenate, whoſe deliberations had now been long ſuſpended. In this preſſing junc⯑ture, the ſenate was at laſt called together, where Appius, in a premeditated oration, pro⯑pounded the buſineſs for which they were con⯑vened. He then deſired that each ſhould ſpeak his ſentiments as he named them, but Valerius, the grandſon of Poplicola, riſing out of his turn, was ordered by the tyrant to ſit down. Valerius however, would not deſiſt, but violent⯑ly inveighed againſt the tyranny of the decem⯑virate, and their effrontery, in expecting that the ſenate, whoſe power they had deſtroyed, [141] ſhould now take meaſures to ſupport their be⯑trayers. His ſpeech was ſeconded by Marcus Horatius, who, with ſtill greater freedom, ex⯑poſed their horrid invaſion of the rights of their country; their outrages, their rapines, and their cruelty. Appius, at firſt, ſeemed to bear this harrangue with patience, but at laſt, his paſſions, long uſed to indulgence, could no longer keep within reſtraint, he flew out into violence, and threatened to have Horatius thrown headlong from the Tarpeian rock. All the ſenators exclaimed againſt this infringement of the liberty of free debate, as the higheſt breach of their privileges, and an intolerable act of power. Whereat the decemvir, a little repenting his raſhneſs, began to excuſe himſelf, ſaying, that he was willing to give liberty to all deliberations upon the queſtion, but could not bear an oration, which, leaving the point in debate, only ſeemed calculated to promote ſedi⯑tion. That he and his colleagues had received an unlimited power from the people, till the great work of forming the laws was finiſhed, during which they were reſolved to act to the extent of their power, and then would be an⯑ſwerable for their adminiſtration. This was a ſufficient diſplay of their intentions, all the un⯑influenced part of the ſenate, particularly Clau⯑dius, the uncle of Appius, ſpoke with deteſta⯑tion of their proceedings; but a large party in [142] the houſe, whom the decemviri had previovſly formed, and ſtill others whom their fears had biaſſed, ſhewed themſelves enclined to agree with Appius in whatever he ſhould pro⯑poſe. He therefore demanded, that he and his colleagues ſhould have a power of levying and commanding the forces that were to go againſt the Aequi, and immediately a decree of the ſe⯑nate paſſed, confirming this propoſal.

The decemviri now in poſſeſſion of all the military as well as of the civil power, divided their army into three parts, whereof one conti⯑nued with Appius in the city, to keep it under awe; the other two were commanded by his colleagues, and were led, one againſt the Aequi, and the other againſt the Sabines. The Roman ſoldiers had not got into a method of puniſhing the generals whom they diſliked, by ſuffering themſelves to be vanquiſhed in the field. They put it in practice upon this ocaſion, and ſhame⯑fully abandoned their camp upon the approach of the enemy. Never was the news of a vic⯑tory more joyfully received at Rome, than the tidings of this defeat; the generals, as is al⯑ways the caſe, were blamed for the treachery of their men; ſome demanded that they ſhould be depoſed, others cried out for a dictator to lead the troops to conqueſt; but among the reſt, old Sic⯑cius Dentatus, the tribune, ſpoke his ſentiments with his uſual openneſs, and treating the gene⯑rals [143] with contempt, ſhewed all the faults of their diſcipline in the camp, and their conduct in the field. Appius, in the mean time, was not re⯑miſs in obſerving the diſpoſition of the people. Dentatus in particular was marked out for ven⯑geance, and under pretence of doing him par⯑ticular honour, he was appointed legate, and put at the head of the ſupplies which were ſent from Rome. The office of legate was held as ſacred among the Romans, as in it were united both the authority of a general, with the reve⯑rence of the prieſthood. Dentatus no way ſuſ⯑pecting his deſign, went to the camp with ala⯑crity, where he was received with all the external marks of reſpect. But the generals ſoon found means of indulging their deſire of revenge. He was appointed at the head of an hundred men to go and examine a more commodious place for encampment, as he had very candidly aſ⯑ſured the commanders, that their preſent ſitua⯑tion was wrong. The ſoldiers however, who were given as his attendants, were aſſaſſins, wretches who had long been miniſters to the vengeance of the decemviri, and who now en⯑gaged to murder him, tho' with all that terror, which his reputation, as he was called the Ro⯑man Achilles, might be ſuppoſed to inſpire. With theſe deſigns they led him from the way into the hollow boſom of a retired mountain, where they began to ſet upon him from behind. [144] Dentatus now too late perceived the treachery of the decemviri, and was reſolved to ſell his his life as dearly as he could; he therefore put his back to a rock, and defended himſelf againſt thoſe who preſſed moſt cloſely. Tho' now grown old,, he had ſtill the remains of his former valour, and killed no leſs than fif⯑teen of the aſſailants, and wounded thirty with his own hand. The aſſaſſins now therefore terrified at his amazing bravery, ſhowered in their javelins upon him at a diſtance, all which he received in his ſhield with undaunted reſolution. The combat, though ſo unequal in numbers, was managed for ſome time with doubtful ſucceſs, till at length his aſſailants bethought themſelves of aſcending the rock againſt which he ſtood, and thus poured down ſtones upon him from above. This ſucceeded, the old ſoldier fell beneath their united efforts, after having ſhewn by his death, that it was to his fortitude, and not his fortune, he had come off ſo many times victorious. The decemviri pretended to join in the general ſorrow for ſo brave a man, and decreed him a funeral with the firſt military honours: but the greatneſs of their apparent diſtreſs, compared with their known hatred, only rendered them ſtill more deteſtable to the people. However, a tranſaction ſtill more atrocious than the former, ſerved to inſpire the citizens with reſolution to break all [145] meaſures of obedience, and at laſt to reſtore freedom.

Appius, who ſtill remained at Rome, ſit⯑ting one day on his tribunal to diſpenſe juſ⯑tice, ſaw a maiden of exquiſite beauty, and aged about fifteen, paſſing to one of the pub⯑lic ſchools, attended by a matron, her nurſe. The charms of this damſel, heightened by all the innocence of virgin modeſty, caught his at⯑tention, and fired his heart. The day following, as ſhe paſt, he found her ſtill more beautiful than before, and his breaſt ſtill more enflamed. He now therefore reſolved to obtain the grati⯑fication of his paſſion, whatever ſhould be the conſequence, and found means to inform him⯑ſelf of the virgin's name and family. Her name was Virginia. She was the daughter of Virginius, a centurion, then with the army in the field, and had been contracted to Icilius, formerly a tribune of the people, who had agreed to marry her at the end of the preſent campaign. Appius at firſt reſolved to break this match, and to eſpouſe her himſelf; but the laws of the twelve tables had forbidden the pa⯑tricians to intermarry with the plebeians, and he could not infringe theſe, as he was the enactor of them. Nothing therefore remained but a criminal enjoyment, which, as he was long uſed to the indulgence of all his paſſions, he reſolved on. After having vainly tried to corrupt the [146] fidelity of her nurſe, he had recourſe to another expedient, ſtill more guilty. He pitched upon one Claudius, who had long been the miniſter of his pleaſures, to aſſert that the beautiful maid was his ſlave, and to refer the cauſe to his tribunal for deciſion. Claudius behaved exactly according to his inſtructions, for entering into the ſchool, where Virginia was playing among her female companions, he ſeized upon her as his property, and was going to drag her away by force, but was prevented by the people drawn together by her cries. At length how⯑ever, after the firſt heat of oppoſition was over, he led the weeping virgin to the tribunal of Appius, and there plauſibly expoſed his pre⯑tenſions. He aſſerted that ſhe was born in his houſe, of a female ſlave, who ſold her to the wife of Virginius, who had been barren. That he had ſeveral creditable evidences to prove the truth of what he ſaid, but that until they could come together, it was but reaſonable, that the ſlave ſhould be delivered into his cuſ⯑tody, being her proper maſter. Appius ſeemed to be ſtruck with the juſtice of his claims; he obſerved, that if the reputed father himſelf were preſent, he might indeed be willing to delay the delivery of the maiden for ſome time, but that it was not lawful for him in the preſent caſe, to detain her from her lawful maſter. He therefore adjudged her to Claudius, as his ſlave, [147] to be kept by him till Virginius ſhould be able to prove his paternity. This ſentence was re⯑ceived with loud clamours and reproaches by the multitude; the women in particular came round the innocent Virginia, as if willing to protect her from her judge's fury, while Icilius, her lover, boldly oppoſed the decree, and obliged Claudius to take refuge under the tri⯑bunal of the decemvir. All things now threa⯑tened an open inſurrection, when Appius fear⯑ing the event, thought proper to ſuſpend his judgment till the arrival of Virginius, who was then about eleven miles from Rome, with the army. The day following however, was fixed for the trial, and in the mean time, Appius ſent letters to the generals to confine Virgi⯑nius, as his arrival in town might only ſerve to kindle ſedition among the people. Theſe letters however, were intercepted by the cen⯑turion's friends, who ſent him down a full re⯑lation of the deſign laid againſt the liberty and the honour of his only daughter. Virginius upon this, pretending the death of a near re⯑lation, got permiſſion to leave the camp, and flew to Rome, inſpired with indignation and revenge. Accordingly, the next day he ap⯑peared before the tribunal, to the aſtoniſhment of Appius, leading his weeping daughter by the hand, both habited in the deepeſt mourning. Claudius, the accuſer, was alſo [148] there, and began by making his demand: he ſaid, that it was well known, that the children of ſlaves belonged to the maſters of their pa⯑rents, and that Virginia was born in ſlavery. He obſerved, that pity might be an induce⯑ment to many to forego their claims, but that he would ſacrifice all leſſer conſiderations to juſtice. He then produced a female ſlave whom he had corrupted, to ſwear that ſhe had ſold Virginia to the wife of her reputed father, and he ended his pretenſions by aſſerting, that he could confirm her teſtimony by that of many others, had it been needful. Virginius next ſpoke in turn; he repreſented that his wife had many children, that ſhe had been ſeen pregnant by numbers; that if he had inten⯑tions of adopting a ſuppoſititious child, he would have fixed upon a boy rather than a girl; that it was notorious to all, that his wife had herſelf ſuckled her own child; and that it was ſurprizing, ſuch a claim ſhould be now revived, after a fifteen years diſcontinuance. While the father ſpoke this with a ſtern air, Virginia ſtood trembling by, and with looks of perſua⯑ſive innocence, added weight to all his remon⯑ſtrances. The people ſeemed entirely ſatisfied of the hardſhip of his caſe, till Appius fear⯑ing what he ſaid might have dangerous effects upon the multitude, interrupted him, under a pretence of being ſufficiently in⯑ſtructed [149] in the merits of the cauſe. ‘"Yes, ſays he, my conſcience obliges me to de⯑clare, that I myſelf am a witneſs to the truth of the depoſition of Claudius. Moſt of this aſſembly know that I was left guardian to this youth, and I was very early apprized, that he had a right to this young woman, but the affairs of the public, and the diſſen⯑tions of the people, then prevented my do⯑ing him juſtice. However, it is not now too late, and by the power veſted in me for the publick good, I adjudge Virginia to be the property of Claudius, the plaintiff. Go, therefore, lictors, diſperſe the multitude, and make room for a maſter to repoſſeſs himſelf of his ſlave."’ The lictors, in obedience to his command, ſoon drove off the throng that preſſed round the tribunal, and now they ſeized upon Virginia, and were delivering her up into the hands of Claudius, when Virginius who found that all was over, ſeemed to acquieſce in the ſentence. He therefore mildly entreated Ap⯑pius to be permitted to take a laſt farewel of her whom he had long conſidered as his child, and that ſo ſatisfied, he would return to his duty with freſh alacrity. With this the decemvir com⯑plied, but upon condition, that their endear⯑ments ſhould paſs in his preſence. Virginius, with the moſt poignant anguiſh, took his al⯑moſt expiring daughter in his arms, he for a [150] while ſupported her head upon his breaſt, and wiped away the tears that rolled down her lovely viſage, and happening to be near the ſhops that ſurrounded the Forum, he ſnatched up a knife that lay on the ſhambles, and addreſſing his daughter, ‘"My deareſt, loſt child, cried he, this, this alone can preſerve your honour and your freedom."’ So ſaying, he buried the weapon in her breaſt, and then holding it up, reeking with the blood of his daughter, ‘"Ap⯑pius, he cried, by this blood of innocence, I devote thy head to the infernal gods."’ Thus ſaying, with the bloody knife in his hand, and threatening deſtruction to whoſoever ſhould op⯑poſe him; he ran through the city wildly, cal⯑ling upon the people to ſtrike for freedom, and from thence went to the camp, in order to ſpread a ſimilar flame through the army.

He no ſooner arrived at the camp, followed by a number of his friends, but he informed the army of all that was done, ſtill holding the bloody knife in his hand. He aſked their par⯑don, and the pardon of the gods, for having committed ſo raſh an action, but aſcribed it all to the dreadful neceſſity of the times. He im⯑plored them, by that blood which was dearer to him than his own, to redeem their ſinking country, obſerving, that no military oaths could b [...]nd them to their commanders, who were uſurpers all of them, and could pretend to no [151] real authority. The army, already prediſpoſed, immediately with ſhouts ecchoed their aſſent, and decamping, left their generals behind, to take their ſtation once more upon mount Aven⯑tine, whither they had retired about forty years before. The other army, which had been to oppoſe the Sabines, ſeemed to feel a ſimilar re⯑ſentment, and came over in large parties to join them.

Appius, in the mean time, did all he could to quell the diſturbances in the city, but finding the tumult incapable of being controlled, and perceiving that his mortal enemies, Valerius and Horatius, were the moſt active in oppoſition, he at firſt attempted to find ſafety by flight; ne⯑vertheleſs, being encouraged by Oppius, who was one of his colleagues, he ventured to aſſem⯑ble the ſenate, and urged the puniſhment of all deſerters. The ſenate however, was far from giving him the relief he ſought for, they foreſaw the dangers and miſeries that threatened the ſtate, in caſe of oppoſing the incenſed army, they therefore diſpatched meſſengers to them, offering to reſtore their former mode of govern⯑ment, to which the people joyfully aſſented, and returned to the city, if not with the enſigns, at leaſt, with the pleaſure of a triumphant army.

Thus ended the decemvirate, after having continued ſomewhat leſs than three years. I have given the picture of this adminiſtration, [152] after the Roman hiſtorians, aggravated with all the invectives with which they uſually load it. However, if there be any part of their hiſtory, in which they ſhew a manifeſt prejudice, it is here. The charges againſt the decemviri, of rapine and murder, are all, except one or two, merely general; and of theſe which are ſpeci⯑cified, the facts do not ſeem aequipollent to the accuſation. However, the limits I have aſſigned myſelf in this work, are too ſhort to permit a diſcuſſion of their veracity, and perhaps too it is our wiſeſt way, at this diſtant period, to take the accounts as given us by the hiſtorians of the time, and not to ſhew an affectation of ſagacity, by attempting to new ſtate an evi⯑dence, which has been credited through ſucceſ⯑ſive ages. All that may be obſerved is, that the laws promulgated by this body of men, were reckoned an admirable compilation, and ever after, in Rome, and even in moſt parts of Europe, even to this day, have continued among lawyers to be of the greateſt authority.

CHAP. XIII. From the expulſion of the Decemviri, to the burning of Rome by the Gauls.

THE people now freed from a yoke which U. C. 304 they had laid upon themſelves, elected Valerius and Horatius, conſuls for the enſuing part of the year, and Virginius and Icilius, of the num⯑ber of their tribunes. The puniſhment of the decemviri was what firſt engaged the attention of theſe popular magiſtrates, and Appius was appointed a day to anſwer the charges brought againſt him of tyranny and murder. Oppius, one of his colleagues, next to him in guilt, was alſo arraigned, but both too well ſaw what mercy they had to expect, either from their judges, who were profeſſed enemies, or from the peo⯑ple, whoſe reſentment they had but too fre⯑quently incurred: they therefore reſolved to prevent that fury which they could not with⯑ſtand, and both died by their own hands in priſon. The other eight went into voluntary exile, and Claudius, the pretended maſter of Virginia, was driven out after them. Thus the vengeance of the tribunes purſued theſe devoted men, and ſeemed as yet unſatisfied with puniſh⯑ing. They were preparing to out-go thoſe [154] whom they had depoſed for cruelty, in the very ſame walks of rage, and the ſenate began to tremble at ſeeing ſo many of their members devoted to deſtruction. Duillius however, one of the tribunes, being more moderate than the reſt of his colleagues, quieted their fears by openly profeſſing, that no more blood ſhould be ſhed on this occaſion; that ſufficient ven⯑geance had been taken for the death of Virgi⯑nia, and that he forbade all future proſecutions on that account.

This in ſome meaſure ſatisfied the ſenate for the preſent, but they ſoon found cauſe of freſh reſentment. The two new conſuls ſeemed en⯑tirely to have abandoned the intereſts of the patricians, and equally popular with the tri⯑bunes themſelves, to ſtudy only the gratification of the people. They procured a law, by which each of the plebeians ſhould, in his individual capacity, have as much influence in all elections and deliberations whatſoever, as any one of the patricians, which gave the finiſhing blow to all diſtinction between them. A law ſo injurious to the power of the ſenate, produced, as may be eaſily ſuppoſed, a deſire to mortify the con⯑ſuls, who only aimed at encreaſing their own influence, by the depreſſion of that body. An op⯑portunity for this ſoon offered, for the conſuls having marched againſt the Aequi and Sabines, gained a complete victory, and demanded a tri⯑umph. [155] The ſenate however were reſolved not to comply, and declared them unworthy of that ho⯑nour The conſuls appealed to the people, and complaining loudly againſt the ſenate, procured a law for the privilege of a triumph, by the authority of the plebeians alone. Thus did the two orders of the ſtate continue for ſome years mutually oppoſing each other, the patricians defending the ſmall ſhadow of diſtinction which they had left, and the people daily inſiſting upon freſh conceſſions, as if their appetites encreaſed, by what was granted to ſatisfy them.

In the mean time, theſe inteſtine tumults produced weakneſs within the ſtate, and confi⯑dence in the enemy abroad. The wars with the Aequi and Volſci ſtill continued, and as each year ſome trifling advantages were ob⯑tained over the Romans, they at laſt advanced ſo far, as to make their incurſions to the very U. C. 309 walls of Rome. But not the courage only of the Romans ſeemed diminiſhed by theſe conteſts, but their other virtues alſo, particularly their juſtice. About this time, the inhabitants of two neighbouring cities, Ardea and Aricia, had a conteſt between themſelves, about ſome lands that had long been claimed by both. At length, being unable to agree, they referred it to the ſenate and the people of Rome. The ſenate had yet ſome of the principles of primitive juſtice remaining, and refuſed to determine the [156] diſpute. But the people readily undertook the deciſion, and one Scaptius, an old man, declar⯑ing, that theſe very lands of right belonged to Rome, they immediately voted themſelves to be the legal poſſeſſors, and ſent home the former litigants, thoroughly convinced of their own folly, and of the Roman injuſtice.

The tribunes now grew more and more tur⯑bulent, and having come into a principal ſhare in the adminiſtration of government, nothing would ſatisfy them, without having a participa⯑tion of the whole. With theſe views they pro⯑poſed two laws, one to permit plebeians to in⯑termarry with patricians, and the other to per⯑mit them to be admitted to the conſulſhip alſo. The ſenators received theſe propoſals with their accuſtomed indignation, and ſeemed reſolved to undergo the utmoſt extremities, rather than ſubmit to enacting them. However, finding their reſiſtance only encreaſe the commotions of the ſtate, they at laſt conſented to paſs the law concerning marriages, hoping that this conceſſion would ſatisfy the people. But they were to be appeaſed but for a very ſhort time, for returning to their old cuſtom of refuſing to enliſt upon the approach of the enemy, the con⯑ſuls were forced to hold a private conference with the chief of the ſenate, where, after many debates, Claudius propoſed an expedient, as the moſt probable means of ſatisfying the people [157] in the preſent conjuncture. This was by no means to contaminate the conſulſhip, by ſuffer⯑ing it to come into the hands of the people, but to create ſix or eight governors in the room of conſuls, whereof, one half at leaſt ſhould be pa⯑tricians. This project, which was but a poor ſub⯑terfuge, and was in fact, granting what the peo⯑ple demanded, pleaſed the whole meeting, and that nothing might ſeem preconcerted among them, they agreed, that at the next public meet⯑ing of the ſenate, the conſuls ſhould, contrary to their uſual cuſtom, begin, by aſking the opinion of the youngeſt ſenator, whereas, formerly they always began by aſking that of the ſenior. Upon aſſembling the ſenate, one of the tribunes ac⯑cuſed them of holding ſecret meetings, and managing dangerous deſigns againſt the people. The conſuls, on the other hand, averred their innocence, and to demonſtrate their ſincerity, gave any of the younger members of the houſe leave to propound their opinions. Theſe re⯑maining ſilent, ſuch of the older ſenators as were known to be popular, began by obſerving, that the people ought to be indulged in their requeſt, and that none ſo well deſerved power, as thoſe who were moſt inſtrumental in gaining it, and that the city could not be free until all were reduced to perfect equality. Claudius, as was agreed upon, ſpoke next, and though very willing to advance the intentions of thoſe who [158] ſpoke before him, in order to conceal his de⯑ſigns, he broke out into bitter invectives againſt the people, aſſerting, that it was his opinion, that the law ſhould not paſs. This produced ſome diſturbance among the plebeians, but at length Genutius, as if to moderate between the ſenate and the people, propoſed, as had been preconcerted, that ſix governors ſhould be an⯑nually choſen, with conſular authority, three from the ſenate, and three from the people; and that when the time of their magiſtracy ſhould be expired, then it would be ſeen, whether they would have the ſame office continued, or whe⯑ther the conſulſhip ſhould be eſtabliſhed upon its former footing. This project was eagerly embraced by the people, becauſe it promiſed ſomething new, and leave was given to any of the plebeians to ſtand for this new office. Yet ſo fickle were the multitude, that though many of their own rank ſtood, yet none of them were thought worthy of the honour, and the choice wholly fell upon the patricians, who offered themſelves as candidates. Thus a new form of U. C. 310 government was now to be tried, the people ſtill miſtaking change for improvement. Theſe new magiſtrates were called M [...]itary Tribunes, they were at firſt but three, afterwards they were encreaſed to four, and at length to ſix. They had the power and the enſigns of conſuls, yet their power being divided among a number, [159] each ſingly was of leſs authority. The firſt that were choſen, only continued in their office about three months, the augurs having found ſome⯑thing amiſs in the ceremonies of their election.

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

This new creation ſerved to reſtore peace for ſome time among the orders, and a triumph gained over the Volſcians by Geganius the con⯑ſul, added to the univerſal ſatisfaction that reign⯑ed among the people. As it was ſaid of the Greeks, that a victory gained at the Olympic games raiſed the conqueror to the higheſt pitch of human ſplendour, ſo it might be ſaid of the Romans, that a triumph was the greateſt ho⯑nour they had any idea of. For this their ge⯑nerals [160] fought, not leſs than for the benefit of the ſtate; the people alſo, when entertained with ſuch ſpectacles, forgot their private diſtreſſes in an empty notion of their country's glory.

This calm however, was but of ſhort conti⯑nuance, for ſome time after, a famine preſſing hard upon the poor, the uſual complaints U. C. 313 againſt the rich were renewed, and theſe, as before, proving ineffectual, produced new ſe⯑ditions. The conſuls were accuſed of neglect, in not having laid in proper quantities of corn; they however, diſregarded the murmurs of the populace, content with exerting all their care in attempts to ſupply the preſſing neceſſities. But though they did all that could be expected from active magiſtrates, in providing and diſtributing proviſions to the poor; yet Spurius Maelius, a rich knight, who had purchaſed up all the corn of Tuſcany, by far outſhone them in liberality. This patrician, who had long beheld the ſtrug⯑gles of the ſtate, was enflamed with a ſecret de⯑ſire of becoming powerful by its contentions: he therefore diſtributed corn in great quantities among the poorer ſort each day, till at laſt, his houſe became the aſylum of all ſuch as wiſhed to exchange a life of labour for one of lazy de⯑pendance. When he had thus gained a ſufficient number of partizans, he procured large quanti⯑ties of arms to be purchaſed and brought into [161] his houſe by night, and formed a plan of con⯑ſpiracy, by which he was to be made com⯑mander, while ſome of the tribunes, whom he had found means to corrupt, were to act under him, in ſeizing upon the liberties of his coun⯑try. Minucius, who was at that time appointed to the care of providing for the people, ſoon diſcovered the plot that was thus formed againſt their freedom, and informing the ſenate thereof, they immediately formed a reſolution of creat⯑ing a dictator, who ſhould have the power of quelling the conſpiracy, without appealing to the people. Cincinnatus, who was now eighty years old, was choſen once more to reſcue his country from impending danger. He began by ſummoning Maelius to appear, who being, as he thought, ſufficiently ſupported by the mul⯑titude, refuſed to obey. He next ſent Ahala, the maſter of his horſe, to force him, who meeting him in the Forum, and preſſing Mae⯑lius to follow him to the dictator's tribunal, upon his refuſal, Ahala killed him upon the ſpot. The dictator applauded the reſolution of his officer, and commanded the conſpirator's goods to be ſold, and his houſe to be demo⯑liſhed, diſtributing his ſtores among the people.

The tribunes of the people were much en⯑raged at the death of Maelius, and in order, in ſome meaſure to puniſh the ſenate at the next election, inſtead of conſuls, inſiſted upon re⯑ſtoring [162] U. C. 315 their military tribunes. With this, the ſenate were obliged to comply, and though the plebeians had a right of being taken into the office, three patricians, as in the former elec⯑tion, were again choſen. The next year how⯑ever, the government returned to its ancient channel, and conſuls were choſen.

During theſe conteſts, the Veians and the Volſcians went on with their cuſtomary incur⯑ſions, and the very allies of Rome themſelves, began to waver in their allegiance. Fidenae, an ancient colony belonging to the Romans, revolted to Tolumnius, king of the Veians, and ſtill more to enhance their crime, murdered the ambaſſadors that were ſent to complain of the infidelity. To puniſh this conduct with more ſignal vengeance, a dictator was appoint⯑ed, and the choice fell upon Mamercus Aemi⯑lius. A victory was obtained over the Veii, the king of their nation was ſlain, and Aemi⯑lius marched back to Rome, with all the en⯑ſigns of triumph, ennobled by the ſpoils of a king.

It ſhould ſeem now, as if the ſenate and con⯑ſuls could carry on no buſineſs by their own authority alone, ſince we find them, the year following, creating another dictator, to oppoſe a threatened confederacy of the Veian nations. Servilius Priſcus was choſen to this high office. The year ſucceeding, we read of Aemilius, who [163] had been dictator ſo lately before, being again choſen. He having no employment abroad, was reſolved to do ſomething at home, and accordingly cauſed the cenſorſhip, which had been before appointed to continue eight years, to be held but for one year and an half, for which the cenſors ſoon after fined and degraded him, upon laying down his office. This con⯑duct of theirs, on the other hand, enraged the people, and inſtead of conſuls, military tri⯑bunes were the next time choſen. In about four U. C. 320 years after, conſuls were introduced again, and upon a threatened invaſion of the Aequi, a dic⯑tator, Poſthumius Tubero, was created, who cloſed his dictatorſhip with a triumph. Four U. C. 326 years after this, the fluctuation of councils brought up military tribunes again, and their want of ſucceſs in war, obliged the people to create Aemilius, for the third time, dictator, who gained another triumph. For two years after this, military tribunes continued; then conſuls, and then tribunes again: thus the ſtate continued to fluctuate between the different or⯑orders, for more than fifteen years, during which time, there was but little of any thing important tranſacted, either abroad or at home: the ſenate ſeemed to have loſt all its authority, and the people all their military virtue. The former, who were poſſeſſed of the riches of the ſtate, ſeemed willing to grant all their privi⯑leges, [164] in order to ſecure their property from the Agrarian law; and the people employed ſo much time in attending the harangues of their tri⯑bunes, that they became poor, diſcontented, and noiſy. Whenever the approach of an ene⯑my was talked of, the danger was ſo magnified, by either the fears or the real weakneſs of the ſtate, that nothing but that deſperate me⯑thod of chuſing a dictator could be found to oppoſe it. So that in a period of twenty years, we find the people above ten times giving up their liberty, their poſſeſſions, and their lives, to one of their fellow citizens, and only indebted for their ſafety to his ſtill remaining virtue. Thus after Aemilius, Servilius Priſcus was again cho⯑ſen, whom we have mentioned as thrice dicta⯑tor U. C. 335. 345. before, and after him Cornelius Coſſus. Theſe abſolute magiſtrates, it is true, in ſome meaſure reſtored diſcipline to the army, and encreaſed the territories of the ſtate; but it was purchaſing conqueſt too dear, to give up all that was valuable in life to obtain it. The ill effects indeed of their abſolute authority, were not diſcovered till many years after; at preſent, the ſenate ſeemed pleaſed with electing a ma⯑giſtrate out of their own body, who could inti⯑midate the people: the multitude, on the other hand, were proud to follow and obey one who generally led them to conqueſt and plunder, for the dictators uſually divided the ſpoils of [165] the conquered towns among them, in order to en⯑creaſe their own popularity. Thus the plunder of Anxur, a city taken from the Volſcians, ſeemed to diffuſe a new ſpirit amongſt them, which however continued no longer than until their neceſſities called for a new ſupply.

Things continued in this ſtate of commotion for a long time, factions becoming every day ſtronger, and the government weaker; the tri⯑bunes of the people ſtill augmenting the breach between the orders of the commonwealth, and calling their licentiouſneſs liberty. At length however, the ſenate hit upon an expedient, which ſerved greatly to encreaſe their own power, and at the ſame time, highly pleaſing the people, though it muſt be owned, it ſerved to ſhew how greatly the Romans were fallen from their former virtues. The citizens who went to the field, had hitherto fought their country's battles for nothing; they were huſ⯑bandmen and ſoldiers; the ſame hands that drew the ſword in one ſeaſon, were ſeen hold⯑ing the plough in another, and they were ob⯑liged to furniſh not only their own arms, but their own proviſions, during the campaign. In theſe difficulties however, they chearfully ac⯑quieſced, as the hopes of plunder, and the ho⯑nours of returning in triumph, were conſi⯑dered as an ample compenſation. Nevertheleſs, it ſometimes fell out, that if the campaign was [166] of long continuance, their little farms remain⯑ed untilled, and they themſelves were reduced the next ſeaſon to extreme indigence. Hence they were obliged to incur debts, and hence proceeded that various train of extortions, uſu⯑ries, and petty cruelties, which the creditors made uſe of to oppreſs the people. To remedy theſe evils, the ſenate unanimouſly came to a reſolution of paying the ſoldiery out of the trea⯑ſury, and for this purpoſe they laid on a new tax, from which none of the citizens were to be exempted. This regulation in ſome meaſure, gave a new turn to the Roman method of mak⯑ing war; as what might before have been called incurſions, were now become regular, lengthen⯑ed campaigns. The ſenate was now no longer to be obliged to the tribunes, in order to raiſe an army, as the people would gladly enliſt, ſince they were ſure of their reward. Nothing there⯑fore could exceed their joy upon this occaſion, they ſurrounded the ſenate-houſe with accla⯑mations, they offered to follow their conſcript fathers wherever they ſhould lead them, and promiſed never to murmur more.

U. C. 347 The Senate thus reconciled to the people, and now become maſters of an army that they could keep in the field as long as they thought proper, reſolved to take ſignal vengeance of the Veians, and beſiege their capital city, though the attempt ſhould endanger their own. The city of Veii [167] had long been a flouriſhing, ſtrong, and formi⯑dable place; it was ſeated upon a craggy rock, and furniſhed with reſolute and numerous de⯑fenders. It had lately changed its form of government, from republican into that of king⯑ly, and ſuch a change being diſliked by the al⯑lies of this ſtate, this contributed, in ſome mea⯑ſure, to their tamely ſuffering it to be ſur⯑rounded by the Roman army. The Romans indeed, had every reaſon to inſpire them with reſentment. The Veians had long been the ri⯑vals of Rome; they had ever taken the opportu⯑nity of its internal diſtreſſes, to ravage its territo⯑ries, and had even treated its ambaſſadors, ſent to complain of theſe injuries, with outrage. It ſeemed now therefore determined, that Veii, whatever it ſhould coſt, was to fall, and the Romans accordingly ſate regularly down before it, prepared for a long and painful reſiſtance. The ſtrength of the place may be inferred from the continuance of the ſiege, which laſted for ten years, during which time, the army conti⯑nued encamped round it, lying in winter, un⯑der tents made of the ſkins of beaſts, and in ſummer, driving on the operations of the at⯑tack. Various was the ſucceſs, and many were the commanders that directed the ſiege; ſome times all the beſiegers works were deſtroyed, and many of their men cut off by ſallies from the town; ſometimes they were annoyed by an [168] army of Veians, who attempted to bring aſſiſt⯑ance from without. A ſiege ſo bloody, ſeem⯑ed to threaten depopulation to Rome itſelf, by draining its forces continually away, ſo that a law was obliged to be made, for all the bat⯑chelors to marry the widows of the ſoldiers who were ſlain. The tribunes of the people alſo did not fail to render this great undertaking ſtill more arduous by their continual murmurs and ſkill in raiſing diſſenſions at home. They blamed the commanders, and prohibited the taxes from being raiſed, which were to pay the ſoldiery; and ſtill more to perplex the ſenate, they began to make new propoſals for paſſing the Agrarian law. Such diſſenſion among the Romans, and ſo much obſtinacy on the part of the Veii, be⯑gan to depreſs the ſanguine expectations of the ſenate, they trembled for the conſequences of ſo much blood and treaſure expended in an in⯑effectual ſiege, therefore willing to ſtrike one vigorous blow before relinquiſhing their favou⯑rite aim, they created Furius Camillus, dicta⯑tor, and to him was entruſted the ſole power of managing the long protracted war. Camil⯑lus was a man, who without intrigue or any ſollicitation had raiſed himſelf to the firſt emi⯑nence in the ſtate: he had been made one of the cenſors ſome time before, and was conſi⯑dered as the head of that office; he was after⯑wards made a military tribune, and had in this [169] poſt gained ſeveral advantages over the enemy. It was his great courage and abilities in the above offices, that made him thought moſt worthy to ſerve his country on this preſſing occaſion. Upon his appointment, numbers of the people flocked to his ſtandard, confident of ſucceſs under ſo experienced a commander. He accordingly drew out his forces againſt the enemy, and overthrew the Faliſci, one of the little powers confederated againſt Rome, with great ſlaughter: the Capenates alſo ſhared the ſame fate, and were obliged to beg protection; wherefore, being thus maſter of the field, he turned all his force to proſecute the ſiege of Veii with vigour. Conſcious however, that he was unable to take the city by ſtorm, he ſecretly wrought a mine into it, with vaſt labour, which opened into the midſt of the citadel. Certain thus of ſucceſs, and finding the city incapable of relief, he ſent to the ſenate, de⯑ſiring, that all who choſe to ſhare in the plun⯑der of Veii, ſhould immediately repair to the army. Then giving his men directions how to enter at the breach, the city was inſtantly filled with his legions, to the amazement and con⯑ſternation of the beſieged, who but a moment before, had reſted in perfect ſecurity. Thus, like a ſecond Troy, was the city of Veii taken, after a ten years ſiege, and with its ſpoils en⯑riched the conquerors, while Camillus himſelf, [170] tranſported with the honour of having ſubdued the rival of his native city, triumphed after the manner of the kings of Rome, having his chariot drawn by four milk-white horſes, a diſ⯑tinction which did not fail to diſguſt the majo⯑rity of the ſpectators, as they conſidered thoſe emblems as ſacred, and more proper for doing honour to their gods, than their generals.

The people ſoon after pretended to find ſtill greater cauſe of offence. Their tribunes had propoſed, that the ſenate and people ſhould di⯑vide into two parts, whereof, one ſhould con⯑tinue in Rome, the other ſhould ſettle at Veii, their new conqueſt. This, Camillus earneſtly oppoſed, and diverted the multitude from their intention, though it procured their anger. No [...] were they leſs diſpleaſed with him ſoon after, when they found themſelves obliged to reſtors the tenth part of the plunder they had taken, which, before the ſiege, he had devoted to Apollo. The ſoldiers, for the moſt part, had ſpent theirs long ſince, ſo that they would have been incapable of refunding, had not the Roman women parted with their golden orna⯑ments, to the amount of eight talents of gold, to ſupply them. For this generous action, they were decreed the privilege of having funeral orations pronounced over their bodies, which had not been allowed to women before. Ca⯑millus [171] was rendered by this ſtep, ſtill more un⯑popular than before.

However, in the midſt of this general diſ⯑like, he was, ſome time after, created one of the military tribunes, and ſent againſt the Faliſci, who had been making their accuſtomed incurſions upon the Roman territories. His uſual good fortune attended him in this expedi⯑tion, he routed their army, and beſieged their capital city Falerii, which threatened a long and vigorous reſiſtance. The reduction of this little place, would have been ſcarce worth men⯑tioning in this ſcanty page, were it not for an action of the Roman general, that has done him more credit with poſterity, than all his other triumphs united. A ſchool-maſter, who had the care of the children belonging to the principal men of the city, having found means to decoy them into the Roman camp, offered to put them into the hands of Camillus, as the ſureſt means of inducing the citizens to a ſpeedy ſurrender. The general was ſtruck with the treachery of a wretch, whoſe duty it was to protect innocence, and not to betray it; he for ſome time regarded the traitor with a ſtern air, but at laſt finding words, ‘"Execrable villain, cried the noble Roman, offer thy abominable propoſals to creatures like thyſelf, and not to me; what though we be the enemies of your city, yet there are natural ties that bind all [172] mankind, which ſhould never be broken: there are duties required from us in war, as well as in peace: we fight now not againſt an age of innocence, but againſt men. Men who have uſed us ill indeed, but yet, whoſe crimes are virtues, when compared to thine. Againſt ſuch baſe arts, let it be my duty to uſe only Roman arts, the arts of valour and of arms."’ So ſaying, he immediately order⯑ed him to be ſtript, his hands tied behind him, and in that ignominious manner, to be whipped into the town by his own ſcholars. This ge⯑nerous behaviour in Camillus effected more than his arms could do; the magiſtrates of the town immediately ſubmitted to the ſenate, leaving to Camillus the conditions of their ſurrender, who only fined them a ſum of money to ſatisfy his army, and received them under the protection and into the alliance of Rome.

Notwithſtanding the veneration which the virtues of Camillus had excited abroad, they ſeemed but little adapted to bring over the re⯑ſpect of the turbulent tribunes at home, as they raiſed ſome freſh accuſation againſt him every day. To the charge of being an oppoſer of their intended migration from Rome to Veii, they added that of his having concealed a part of the plunder of that city, particularly two brazen gates for his own uſe, and appointed him a day, on which to appear before the peo⯑ple. [173] Camillus finding the multitude exaſperated againſt him upon many pretences, and deteſt⯑ing their ingratitude, reſolved not to await the ignominy of a trial, but embracing his wife and children, prepared to depart from Rome. He had already paſſed as far as one of the gates, unattended on his way, and unlamented. There however, he could ſuppreſs his indignation no longer, but turning his face to the Capitol, and lifting up his hands to heaven, he entreated all the gods, that his country might one day be ſenſible of their injuſtice and ingratitude, and ſo ſaying, he paſt forward to take refuge at Ardea, a town at a little diſtance from Rome, where he afterwards learned, that he had been fined fifteen hundred aſſes by the tribunes at Rome.

The tribunes were not a little pleaſed with their triumph over this great man, but they ſoon had reaſon to repent their injuſtice, and to wiſh for the aſſiſtance of one, who alone was able to protect their country from ruin. For now a more terrible and redoubtable enemy began to make its appearance, than the Ro⯑mans had ever yet encountered: the Gauls, a barbarous nation, had about two centuries be⯑fore made an irruption from beyond the Alps, and ſettled in the northern parts of Italy. They had been invited over by the deliciouſneſs of the wines, and the ſoftneſs of the climate. Wherever they came, they diſpoſſeſt the origi⯑nal [174] inhabitants, being men of extraordinary ſta⯑ture, fierce in aſpect, barbarous in their man⯑ners, and prone to emigration. Not content with having ſubdued and peopled moſt of the northern parts of Italy, they were ſtill inviting others from their native deſarts beyond the Alps, to come over, and ſpread terror and de⯑ſolation in the fruitful regions of this new diſco⯑vered country. A body of theſe, wild from their original habitations, were now beſieging Clu⯑ſium, a city of Etruria, under the conduct of Brennus, their king. The inhabitants of Clu⯑ſium frighted at their numbers, and ſtill more at their ſavage appearance, entreated the aſſiſt⯑ance, or at leaſt, the mediation of the Romans. The ſenate, who long had made it a maxim, never to refuſe ſuccour to the diſtreſſed, were willing, previouſly to ſend ambaſſadors to the Gauls, to diſſuade them from their enterprize, and to ſhew the injuſtice of their irruption. Ac⯑cordingly, three young ſenators were choſen out of the family of the Fabii, to manage the commiſſion, who ſeemed rather fitter for the field than the cabinet. Brennus received them with a degree of complaiſance, that argued but little of the barbarian, and deſiring to know the buſineſs of their embaſſy, was anſwered ac⯑cording to their inſtructions, that it was not cuſtomary in Italy, to make war, but upon juſt grounds of provocation, and that they deſired [175] to know, what offence the citizens of Cluſium had given to the king of the Gauls? To this Brennus ſternly replied, that the rights of va⯑liant men lay in their ſwords; that the Romans themſelves, had no other right to the many cities they had conquered; and that he had particular reaſons of reſentment againſt the peo⯑ple of Cluſium, as they refuſed to part with thoſe lands, which they had neither hands to till, nor inhabitants to occupy. The Roman ambaſſadors, who were but little uſed to bear the language of a conqueror, for a while, diſ⯑ſembled their reſentment at this haughty reply, but, upon entering the beſieged city, inſtead of acting as ambaſſadors, forgetful of their ſacred characters, they headed the citizens in a ſally againſt the beſiegers. In this combat, Fabius Ambuſtus killed a Gaul with his own hand, but was diſcovered, while he was deſpoiling him of his armour. A conduct ſo unjuſt and unbecoming, excited the reſentment of Bren⯑nus, who having made his complaint by an he⯑rald, to the ſenate, and finding no redreſs, im⯑mediately broke up the ſiege, and marched away with his conquering army directly to Rome.

The countries through which the Gauls paſ⯑ſed, in their rapid progreſs, gave up all hopes of ſafety upon their approach, being terrified at their vaſt numbers, the fierceneſs of their [176] natures, and their dreadful preparations for war. But the rage and impetuoſity of this wild people were directed only againſt Rome. They went on without doing the leaſt injury in their march, ſtill breathing vengeance only againſt the Romans.

Six military tribunes at that time commanded the Roman army: the number of their forces, which amounted to forty thouſand men, was nearly equal to thoſe of Brennus, but the ſoldiers were leſs obedient, and the generals had neither ſubordination to aſſiſt, nor confidence to unite each other. The two armies met beſide the river Allia, eleven miles from the city, both equally confident of victory, both equally dreading to ſurvive a defeat. The leaders on either ſide put their forces in array; the Ro⯑mans, to prevent being ſurrounded, extended their lines, and placed their beſt legions in the wings of their army. The Gauls, on the other hand, by an happy diſpoſition, had their choiceſt men in the middle, and with theſe they made the moſt deſperate attack. The centre of the Roman army, unable to withſtand the impetu⯑oſity of the charge, quickly gave way, while the two wings ſaw themſelves in a manner di⯑vided from each other, and their centre occu⯑pied by the enemy. They made, for a time, a feeble attempt to join each other, but finding it impracticable, a rout enſued, in which the [177] Romans ſeemed to have loſt all power, not only of reſiſtance, but of flight. Nothing but terror and blind confuſion reigned through their ſcattered troops; the wretched remains of their army, either were drowned in attempting to croſs over the Tyber, or went to take refuge in Veii, while a few of them returned to Rome, with the dreadful account of their country's overthrow. All hopes being now over, the few remaining inhabitants that were able to bear arms, threw themſelves into the Capitol, which they fortified, in order to hold out a ſiege. The reſt of the people, a poor, helpleſs multitude of old men, women and children, endeavoured to hide themſelves in ſome of the neighbouring towns, or reſolved to await the conqueror's fury, and end their lives with the ruin of their native city. But more particu⯑larly, the ancient ſenators, and prieſts, ſtruck with a religious enthuſiaſm, on this occaſion, reſolved to devote their lives to atone for the crimes of the people, and habited in their robes of ceremony, placed themſelves in the Forum, on their ivory chairs. The Gauls, in the mean time, were giving a looſe to their triumph, in ſharing and enjoying the plunder of the ene⯑mies camp; had they immediately marched to Rome upon gaining the victory, the Capitol itſelf had been taken; but they continued two days feaſting upon the field of battle, and with [178] barbarous pleaſure, exulting amidſt their ſlaugh⯑tered enemies. On the third day after the vic⯑tory, the eaſineſs of which much amazed the Gauls, Brennus appeared with all his forces be⯑fore the city. He was at firſt much ſurprized to find the gates wide open to receive him, and the walls defenceleſs, ſo that he began to im⯑pute the unguarded ſituation of the place, to a ſtratagem of the Romans. After proper pre⯑cautions however, he entered the city, and marching into the Forum, there beheld the an⯑cient ſenators ſitting in their order, obſerving a profound ſilence, unmoved and undaunted▪ The ſplendid habits, the majeſtic gravity, and the venerable looks of theſe old men, who had all, in their time, borne the higheſt offices of the ſtate, awed the barbarous enemy into reverence; they took them to be the tutelar deities of the place, and began to offer blind adoration, till one, more forward than the reſt, put forth his hand to ſtroak the beard of Pa⯑pyrius, whom we have already ſeen enjoying the dignity of dictator. This inſult the noble Roman could not endure, but lifting up his ivory ſcepter, ſtruck the ſavage to the ground. This ſeemed as a ſignal for general ſlaughter. Papyrius fell firſt, and all the reſt ſhared his fate, without mercy or diſtinction. Thus the fierce invaders purſued their ſlaughter for three days ſucceſſively, ſparing neither ſex nor age, [179] and then ſetting fire to the city, burnt down every houſe to the ground.

All the hopes of Rome were now placed in U. C. 364 the Capitol, every thing without that fortreſs, was but an extenſive ſcene of miſery, deſola⯑tion and deſpair. All the magnificent build⯑ings, which were once the pride of Rome, were now become an heap of ſhapeleſs ruin. Nor was it the city alone that felt the utmoſt rage of the conquerors, but all the neighbouring towns that were acceſſible to their incurſions, ſhared the ſame fate, and were burnt without compaſ⯑ſion. Still however, the citadel remained, and Brennus tried every art to reduce it into his power; he firſt ſummoned it, with threats, to ſurrender, but in vain; he then reſolved to be⯑ſiege it in form, and hemmed it round with his army. The Romans however, repelled his at⯑tempts with great bravery, deſpair had ſupplied them with that perſeverance and vigour, which they ſeemed to want when in proſperity.

The ſiege had now continued for above ſix months, the proviſions of the garriſon were almoſt exhauſted, their numbers leſſened with continual fatigue, and nothing ſeemed to remain but death, or ſubmitting to the mercy of the conquerors, which was worſe even than death itſelf. They had reſolved upon dying, when they were re⯑vived from their deſpondence, by the appearance of a man whom they ſaw climbing up the rock, [180] and whom they knew upon his arrival, to be a meſſenger from their friends abroad. This meſſenger's name was Pontius Comminus, who had ſwam acroſs the Tyber by night, paſſed through the enemies guards, and with extreme ſatigue, climbed up the Capitoline rock, with tidings to the beſieged, that Camillus, their old dictator, was levying an army for their relief; that he had already ſurprized a body of the Gauls in one of their excurſions, and had cut them off to a man; that the citizens of Ardea and Veii had armed in his favour, and had made him their general, and that he only awaited their confirmation of the choice, to enter the field, and give the barbarians battle. The Romans were ſtruck with a mixture of rapture and confuſion, to find that the man whom they had formerly ſpurned from the city, was now, in its deſperate ſtate, become its defender. They inſtantly choſe him for their dictator, and prepared to ſuſtain the ſiege with recruited vi⯑gour. Thus the meſſenger having received his anſwer and proper inſtructions, returned the way he came, not without encountering the utmoſt difficulties.

In the mean while, Brennus carried on the ſiege with extreme ardour, he hoped in time to ſtarve the garriſon into a capitulation; but they, ſenſible of his intent, although they were in actual want, cauſed ſeveral loaves to be [181] thrown into his camp, to convince him of the futility of ſuch expectations. His hopes failing in this, were ſoon after revived, when ſome of his ſoldiers came to inform him, that they had diſcovered ſome foot-ſteps which led up to the rock, and by which they ſuppoſed the Capitol might be ſurprized. Accordingly, a choſen body of his men were ordered by night upon this dangerous ſervice, which they with great labour and difficulty almoſt effected: they were now got upon the very wall; the Roman centinel was faſt aſleep; their dogs within gave no ſignal, and all promiſed an inſtant victory, when the garriſon was awaked by the gaggling of ſome ſacred geeſe, that had been kept in the temple of Juno. The beſieged ſoon perceived the imminence of their danger, and each ſnatch⯑ing the weapon he could find inſtantly, [...]an to oppoſe the aſſailants. Manlius, a patrician of acknowledged bravery, was the firſt who ex⯑erted all his ſtrength, and inſpired courage by his example. He boldly mounted the rampart, and at one effort, threw two Gauls headlong down the precipice: others ſoon came in to his aſſiſtance, and the walls were cleared of the enemy, in a ſpace of time ſhorter than the deſcription.

From this time forward, the hopes of the barbarians began to decline, and Brennus wiſh⯑ed for an opportunity of raiſing the ſiege with [182] credit. His ſoldiers had often conferences with the beſieged, while upon duty, and the propo⯑ſals for an accommodation were wiſhed for by the common men, before the chiefs thought of a congreſs. At length the commanders on both ſides came to an agreement, that the Gauls ſhould immediately quit the city and territories of Rome, upon being paid a thouſand pound weight of gold. This agreement being con⯑firmed by oath on either ſide, the gold was brought forth, but upon weighing, the Gauls attempted fraudulently to kick the beam, of which the Romans complaining, Brennus inſulting, caſt his ſword and belt into the ſcale, crying out, that the only portion of the vanquiſhed was to ſuffer. By this re⯑ply, the Romans ſaw that they were at the victor's mercy, and knew it was vain to expoſtulate againſt the conditions he ſhould be pleaſed to impoſe. But in this very juncture, and while they were thus debating upon the payment, it was told them, that Camillus, their dictator, was at the head of a large army, haſ⯑tening to their relief, and entering the gates of Rome. Camillus accordingly, appeared ſoon after, and entering the place of controverſy, with the air of one who was reſolved not to ſuffer impoſition, he demanded the cauſe of the conteſt, of which being informed, he ordered the gold to be taken and carried back to the [183] Capitol, ‘"for it has ever been, cried he, the manner with us Romans to ranſom our coun⯑try, not with gold, but with iron; it is I only that am to make peace, as being the dictator of Rome, and my ſword alone ſhall purchaſe it."’ Upon this, a battle enſued, in which the Gauls were entirely routed, and ſuch a ſlaughter followed, that the Roman territories were ſoon cleared of their formidable invaders.

The enemy was now vanquiſhed, but Rome continued an heap of ruins; no part of its for⯑mer magnificence remained, except the Capitol, and the greateſt number of its former inha⯑bitants had gone to take refuge in Veii. The tribunes of the people therefore, theſe men unheard of but in the calm of peace, began once more to urge for the removal of the poor remains of Rome to Veii, where they might have houſes to ſhelter, and walls to defend them. On this occaſion, Camillus was ſteady to his former principles: he attempted to appeaſe them, with all the arts of perſuaſion; obſerv⯑ing, that it was unworthy of them, both as Romans and as men, to deſert the venerable ſeats of their anceſtors, where they had been encouraged by repeated marks of divine appro⯑bation, to remove to and inhabit a city which they had conquered, and which wanted even the good fortune of defending itſelf. By theſe and ſuch like remonſtrances, he prevailed upon the [184] people to go contentedly to work, and Rome ſoon began to riſe from its aſhes, though with diminiſhed beauty.

Theſe ſucceſſes of Camillus were in ſome mea⯑ſure, but preparatory to future victories. He was made dictator the next year, upon an irrup⯑tion U. C. 369 of the neighbouring ſtates, and gained an⯑other triumph, and about three years after, overthrew the Latins, who had revolted from Rome, after an obedience of more than an hun⯑dred years continuance. Theſe ſucceſſes ſerved to render Camillus almoſt abſolute in Rome▪ his moderation and patriotiſm however, pre⯑vented his making a wrong uſe of his power, unleſs we may conſider his conduct with re⯑gard to Manlius Capitolinus, as an act of ſe⯑verity.

We have already ſeen the bravery of Man⯑lius in defending the Capitol, and ſaving the laſt remains of Rome. For this the people were by no means ungrateful, having built him an houſe near the place, where his valour was ſo conſpicuous, and having appointed him a publick fund for his ſupport. But his ambi⯑tion was not to be ſatisfied with ſuch trifling rewards; he ſtill aſpired at being not only equal to Camillus, but to be ſovereign of Rome. With this view he laboured to ingratiate him⯑ſelf with the populace, paid their debts, and railed at the patricians, whom he called their [185] oppreſſors. The ſenate was not ignorant of his diſcourſes or his deſigns, and created Cornelius Coſſus dictator, under pretext of ſending him againſt the Volſcians, who had made ſome ſuc⯑ceſsful irruptions into the Roman territories, but in reality, with a view to curb the ambi⯑tion of Manlius. The dictator ſoon finiſhed his expedition againſt the foreign enemy, by a vic⯑tory, and upon his return, called Manlius to an account, and put him in priſon, for his conduct at home. Manlius however, was too much the darling of the populace, to be affect⯑ed by the power of Coſſus; his partizans were too loud in their clamours, to permit any in⯑jury to be done to their favourite. Coſſus was obliged to lay down his office, and Manlius was carried from confinement in triumph. This ſucceſs only ſerved to enflame his ambition. He now began to talk of a diviſion of the lands among the people; he now inſinuated, that there ſhould be no diſtinctions in the ſtate, and to give weight to his diſcourſes, he al⯑ways appeared at the head of a large body of the dregs of the people, whom his largeſſes had made his followers. The city being thus filled with ſedition and clamour, the ſenate were obliged to have recourſe to another expe⯑dient, and to oppoſe the power of Camillus to his. Camillus accordingly being made one of the military tribunes, appointed Manlius a day [186] to anſwer for his life. The place in which he was tried was near the Capitol, where, when he was accuſed of ſedition, and aſpiring at ſovereignty, he only turned his eyes thither, and pointing, put them in mind of what he had done for his country there. The multitude, whoſe compaſ⯑ſion or whoſe juſtice ſeldom ſpring from ratio⯑nal motives, refuſed to condemn him, while he pleaded in ſight of the Capitol; but when he was brought from thence to the Peteline grove, and where the Capitol was no longer to be ſeen, they condemned him to be thrown head⯑long from the Tarpeian rock. Thus, the place which had been the theatre of his glory, be⯑came that of his puniſhment and infamy. His houſe, in which his conſpiracies had been ſe⯑cretly carried on, was ordered to be razed to the ground, and his family were forbid ever after to aſſume the name of Manlius.

The death of Manlius, in ſome meaſure, re⯑newed the murmurs of the tribunes and the people againſt Camillus, whom they conſidered as the chief inſtrument of his proſecution: ever unwilling to ſuppoſe themſelves guilty of a ſeve⯑rity to which they had given their conſent, they began to turn their reſentment upon the moſt worthy man of the ſtate, as if to aggravate their baſeneſs. However, Camillus was never, as it ſhould ſeem, to want an opportunity of bringing them back to their veneration for him. [187] Being choſen military tribune a ſixth time, though much againſt his conſent, he, with his colleague Lucius, marched againſt the Vol⯑ſcians; Lucius, all eagerneſs to engage the ene⯑my, Camillus tempering his courage with mo⯑deration. This backwardneſs for the attack, Lucius aſcribed to the timidity of old age, or the envy of a man unwilling to participate his fame: he therefore took the opportunity, when Camillus was ſick, and obliged to keep his bed, to lead on his forces to the attack. But he too ſoon perceived the temerity of his conduct, his army was almoſt defeated, and an univerſal flight was going to enſue, when Camillus rouzed from his bed, and being helped on horſe-back, old and infirm as he was, he put himſelf at the head of a ſmall body of men, oppoſing thoſe that fled, and bringing them once more furiouſly up againſt their purſuers. The intrepidity of one man ſpread itſelf through the whole army, his ſoldiers quickly rallied, reſolv⯑ing never to forſake a general, under whom they had ſo often fought with victory. The enemy being thus repulſed, the combat was renewed the day following, in which they were totally defeated, and Camillus returned to Rome once more loaden with the ſpoils of conqueſt. But U. C. 372 conqueſts abroad ſeemed only new occaſions for diſſenſions at home, for the debtors began to complain of their hardſhips as formerly. The [188] inhabitants of Praeneſte, a town belonging to the Latins, alſo made incurſions upon the Ro⯑man territories; to quell theſe internal and external grievances, Quintius Cincinnatus was choſen dictator, who took Praeneſte by ſurren⯑der, and returned in triumph, with the ſtatue of Jupiter Imperator, which he placed in the Capitol, a circumſtance, which though of little ſeeming importance, firſt excited the deſire of extending conqueſt among the Romans.

U. C. 375 Two years after this, the conteſts between the patricians and tribunes broke out with more than uſual violence. Many of the plebeians, during the diſtreſſes of their country, had either by accident or courage acquired large fortunes, and this produced a deſire of ſharing, not only in the government, but the honours of Rome. The people, as we have ſeen, had before this aſpired at the conſulſhip, and the ſenate, as has been related, by a trifling ſubterfuge, granted them military tribunes, which were poſſeſſed of conſular power; but this it ſeems was not ſuffi⯑cient to ſatisfy their pride, the tribunes of the people now therefore renewed their claims, while the poorer part of the citizens, only in⯑tent upon acquiring the neceſſaries of life, and but little touched with its honours, were calm ſpectators of the conteſt: they only wanted ſomething to ſtrike the imagination, in order to intereſt them in the cauſe, and this at laſt offered. [189] Fabius Ambuſtus, a tribune of the people, had two daughters, one of whom he married to a patrician, the other to a plebeian. The ple⯑beian's wife coming one day to viſit her ſiſter, was ſtruck with envy at the honours which the latter received, in conſequence of her patrician alliance, and from envying fell into a ſettled melancholy. Her father and huſband, for a long time, conjured her to tell them the reaſons of this alteration in her diſpoſition, which ſhe at laſt unwillingly revealed. The fa⯑ther, though himſelf a patrician, to comfort his daughter, was prevailed upon to give her aſſurances, that he would inſtantly uſe every means in his power, to make her an equal ſha⯑rer in the dignities of the ſtate, with her ſiſter, and not to be deficient in his promiſe, from that time conſulted with her huſband about pre⯑ferring a law, for making one conſul out of the body of the people. Their firſt ſtep was to get the huſband elected a tribune of the peo⯑ple, and then, in order to ingratiate themſelves with the multitude, they propoſed, with the ſame law which made pretenſions to the conſul⯑ſhip, that the Agrarian law, for the equal par⯑tition of lands, ſhould alſo be paſſed; a mea⯑ſure, which they knew, muſt give popularity to their ambition. The conteſts in conſequence of this propoſal were ſo violent, that for five U. C. 377. to 382. years, no ſupreme magiſtrate was choſen, the [190] tribunes of the people, and aediles governing all the time, if that might be called govern⯑ment, which was little better than anarchy and confuſion. The military tribunes then came into government, and after two years were elapſed in this manner, Camillus was choſen dictator, who finding the people reſolute in their deſigns of chuſing a plebeian conſul, laid down his office. Upon his reſignation, another dicta⯑tor was choſen by the ſenate; but this high of⯑fice had been now ſo often created where there was no abſolute neceſſity, that its authority be⯑gan to decline, while that of the tribunes roſe upon its ruins. This dictator's name was Man⯑lius Capitolinus: he ſeems to have little re⯑markable in his conduct, if we except his cre⯑ating Licinius Stolo, his maſter of the horſe, who was the firſt plebeian who enjoyed that dignity. Stolo was the firſt alſo who cauſed a law to be paſſed, that no man ſhould poſſeſs above five hundred acres of land, which was greatly diſadvantageous to the patricians; but what is ſtill more particular, he was ſoon after found deſirous of privately poſſeſſing more land, than by his own law he was entitled to ſhare, and in conſequence thereof, was puniſhed by his own edict.

In this manner the flame of contention was carried on between the two orders of the ſtate, with acrimony and perſeverance, while foreign [191] enemies only ſerved to allay, but not to extin⯑guiſh it. Another invaſion of the Gauls to op⯑poſe whom, Camillus was a fifth time made dictator, for a time repreſſed and gave a tran⯑ſient pauſe to theſe internal commotions. The dread of this people was ſo great among the Romans then, that a law was made, that prieſts ſhould be excuſed from all wars, unleſs in an invaſion of the Gauls. However, Camillus taught his countrymen the way to ſubdue them. Being ſenſible that the chief weapon of this fierce people was the ſword, he furniſhed his ſoldiers with iron helmets, and had their targets bound round with braſs, and at the ſame time, taught them the art of uſing their own arms to the beſt advantage. By theſe means he rendered the ſwords of the Gauls ſo unſerviceable, that giving them battle near the river Anio, he gain⯑ed an eaſy victory, ſo that the Romans now be⯑gan to deſpiſe the Gauls, and wonder at their own former puſillanimity.

A victory like this, it might be ſuppoſed, would have rendered Camillus abſolute at Rome. But it ſeems, that whether from his advanced age, or the encreaſing power of the tribunes, he had by this time fallen even from the ſhare of authority he was once poſſeſſed of. The U. C. 38 law for creating a plebeian conſul being ſtill agitated with encreaſing animoſity, the ſenate as uſual ſtrongly oppoſed it, forbidding Camil⯑lus [192] to lay down his dictatorſhip, in hopes, that under the influence of his power, they might be able to ſupport their honour againſt the pre⯑tenſions of the people. In conſequence of this, while Camillus was one day ſitting upon his tribunal, diſpatching public affairs, the tribunes ordered, that the votes of the people ſhould be taken upon their favourite meaſure, and upon the dictator's oppoſing, they ſent a lictor to ar⯑reſt and conduct him to priſon. Such a mark of indignity offered to a magiſtrate who had been hitherto held ſacred, raiſed a greater com⯑motion than had been hitherto ſeen in Rome. The patricians who ſtood round the dictator▪ boldly repulſed the lictors, while the people who ſtood below, with equal fury cried out, Down with him, Down with him. In this univerſal uproar, Camillus was the only perſon that ſeemed unmoved. He entreated that the tri⯑bunes would give a moment's pauſe to their at⯑tempts; then calling the ſenators round him, and conducting them to a neighbouring temple, he entreated them to give peace to the city, by their compliance; then turning his face towards the Capitol, as if to take a laſt farewel of all future endeavours to ſerve his country, he vowed to build a temple to Concord, in caſe he ſaw peace reſtored to the people. In conſe⯑quence of his advice, a law was made, that one of the conſuls, for the future ſhould be choſen [193] from the plebeians. Sextius, who had long been a turbulent tribune of the people, was the firſt plebeian conſul that was choſen. After him ſucceeded Licinius, the huſband of her whom we have already mentioned as languiſhing with the deſire of dignity. There were alſo at this time, two new magiſtrates created from among the patricians; namely, a Praetor, who was to ſupply the place of conſul in the abſence of that magiſtrate, and to adminiſter juſtice to the people, in civil and criminal caſes; an officer ſo neceſſary to the ſtate, that the number of praetors was, in after ages, encreaſed to ſixteen. There were alſo two Curule Aediles created, officers ſo called to diſtinguiſh them from the aediles of the people, the former hav⯑ing the chair and other enſigns of magiſtracy attending them, which the latter were denied. Their chief buſineſs was to have the care of the great and public games, and of the corn and proviſions taken in war. Thus Camillus, having ſpent a long life, being now above eighty, in the ſervice of his country, throughout which having ſhewn a courage not to be ſhaken by danger, and a patriotiſm, which even the ingra⯑titude of the people could not alter, laid down the dictatorſhip, and built a temple to Concord, according to his vow, which however he ſur⯑vived but two years, dying of the plague, and [194] leaving behind him the reputation of being the ſecond founder of Rome.

It was in vain however, that meaſures were taken to enſure a laſting reconciliation between the patricians and the people: their diſputes revived upon every occaſion, for whenever new magiſtrates were to be choſen, each party try⯑ing all their intereſt to have the election in their own favour, heſitated not to uſe both fraud and violence to compaſs their deſires. Thus the ſenate ſuſpended all meaſures againſt the foreign enemy, leſt the plebeian conſul, newly elected, ſhould come in for a ſhare of the glory. Thus alſo the people ſoon after ob⯑tained, by their complaints, to have the curule aediles choſen, every ſecond year, out of their own body, and even at length prevailed to have Marcus Rutilius, a plebeian, made dictator. U. C. 39 To balance this, the year following, the patri⯑cians took away the conſulſhip from the people, after they had enjoyed it ten years, and four years after, they were obliged to reſtore it. The election of a cenſor produced equal animoſity, and after many conteſts, the plebeian, who had been dictator, was elected to the office, againſt the united endeavours of the patricians.

During theſe conteſts at home however, we are not to ſuppoſe, that the Romans were un⯑employed, or unſucceſsful in their foreign wars. They obtained a ſignal victory over the Her⯑nici, [195] ſo that Claudius Craſſinus, the dictator, had the honour of an ovation allowed him by the ſenate. They obtained another over the Gauls, and Quintus Pennus, the dictator, returned with a triumph. Two ſucceeding victories were gained over the ſame people by two different dictators, namely, Servilius Ahala, and Sulpi⯑cius Deticus, who both triumphed in their turn. We read of two other dictators, namely, Man⯑lius Torquatus, and Caius Julius, who being created without any great neceſſity, did little, and conſequently ſerved to leſſen the authority of the dictatorſhip. We read of a fourth tri⯑umph over the Gauls by Furius Camillus, who was created dictator to oppoſe them. The Arunci alſo, a people beyond the Volſci, made ſome incurſions, but were repulſed by Camillus, who was created dictator a ſecond time for that purpoſe.

Nor were dictators created only for thus repelling the ſudden incurſions of the enemy, but for much more trifling purpoſes; in the times of a plague we find one created, namely, Manlius Capitolinus, merely to drive a nail, as a means of putting a ſtop to the contagion. This unimportant buſineſs he executed with great ceremony, driving it on the right ſide of Jupiter's temple, into the Capitol. Two dicta⯑tors alſo were ſucceſſively choſen, merely to held the Comitium or aſſembly of the people, [196] for a new election of conſuls; Furius Camillus and Manlius Torquatus being choſen for theſe unimportant purpoſes.

In this manner therefore, the Romans went gradually forward, with a mixture of turbu⯑lence and ſuperſtition within their walls, and ſucceſsful enterprizes without. Their conten⯑tions at home making their wars abroad leſs painful and fatiguing, naturally produced in them a turn to military glory. Their ſuperſti⯑tion alſo ſerved as an help to their progreſs, for when the bonds of authority no longer prevail⯑ed, the prieſts were always ſure to hold the people by the ties of religion. What an im⯑plicit obedience they placed in their pontiffs, we have already ſeen in many inſtances, and how far they might be impelled, even to en⯑counter death itſelf, at their command, will evidently appear from the behaviour of Cur⯑tius, about this time, who, upon the opening of a gulph in the Forum, which the gods in⯑dicated would never cloſe up, till the moſt pre⯑cious thing in Rome was thrown into it, leaped with his horſe and armour inſtantly into the midſt, ſaying, that nothing was more truly valuable than patriotiſm and military vir⯑tue. The gulph, ſay the hiſtorians, cloſed im⯑mediately upon him, and he was never ſeen more. Such a ſpirit of religion, and ſo many advantages by following war, had extended [197] their dominions already above double what they were in the times of the kings. However, their principal actions hitherto were againſt their neareſt neighbours, in which they chiefly acted upon the defenſive; but we are ſhortly to be⯑hold another ſcene, where their ambition catches fire, and is not appeaſed, till the limits of the world itſelf ſeems to put bounds to the con⯑flagration.

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

WE are now come to that period, when all the peculiar privileges of patricians were but an empty name, and when wealth chiefly made diſtinction. The ſtate has appeared hitherto an obſcure, unnoted commonwealth, formidable only to the petty nations round it, and ſtrug⯑gling leſs for conqueſt, than ſelf-preſervation. But the Romans having now triumphed over the Sabines, the Etrurians, the Latins, the Hernici, the Aequi and the Volſcians, began to look for greater conqueſts. They accordingly turned their arms againſt the Samnites, a peo⯑ple about an hundred miles eaſt from the city.

[198] The Samnites were an hardy nation, deſcend⯑ed from the Sabines, inhabiting a large tract of ſouthern Italy, which at this day makes a conſiderable part of the kingdom of Naples. They were equally powerful both in numbers and diſcipline, with the Romans, and had like them, confederated ſtates to aſſiſt them. Two ſuch aſpiring neighbours, both equally fond of arms and living by war, could not long want a pretext for a rupture. The pretended occaſion of this was, that the Samnites had oppreſſed the Sidicini, who being too weak to manage the war alone, called in the Campanians to their aſſiſtance, who alſo being overthrown, implored the aſſiſtance of Rome. The ſenate for ſome time, to give a colour of juſtice to their am⯑bition, ſeemed to defer granting aid againſt the Samnites, as being their friends and allies: but the importunate entreaties of the Campa⯑nian ambaſſadors, and the offers of the rich luxurious country which they inhabited, and ſtill more, the refuſal of the Samnites to deſiſt from ravaging a country which the Romans conſidered as their own, determined them to undertake the war. Valerius Corvus and Cor⯑nelius were the two conſuls, to whoſe care it firſt fell to manage this dreadful tontention be⯑tween rival ſtates, that for the ſpace of ſixty years after deluged Italy with blood. Valerius was one of the greateſt commanders in his [199] time; he was ſurnamed Corvus, from a ſtrange circumſtance of being aſſiſted by a crow in a ſingle combat, in which he fought and killed a Gaul of a gigantic ſtature. To his colleague's care it was conſigned to lead an army to Sam⯑nium, the enemies capital, while Corvus was ſent to relieve Capua, the capital of the Cam⯑panians. Never was captain more fitted to his ſoldiers, than he. To an habit naturally ro⯑buſt and athletic, he joined the gentleſt man⯑ners; he was the fierceſt, and yet the moſt good-natured man in the army, and while the meaneſt centinel was his companion, no man kept them more ſtrictly to their duty; but what completes his character, he conſtantly endea⯑voured to preſerve his dignities, by the ſame arts with which he gained them. Such ſoldiers as the Romans then were, hardened by their late adverſity, and led on by ſuch a general, were unconquerable. The Samnites were the braveſt men they ever yet encountered, and the contention between them was managed on both ſides with the moſt determined reſolution. But the fortune of Rome prevailed; the Samnites at length fled, averring, that they were not able to withſtand the fierce looks and the fire⯑darting eyes of the Romans. The other con⯑ſul however, was not at firſt ſo fortunate, for having unwarily led his army into a defile, he was in danger of being cut off, had not Decius, [200] a tribune in the army, poſſeſſed himſelf of an hill which commanded the enemy, ſo that the Samnites being attacked on either ſide, were defeated with great ſlaughter, not leſs than thirty thouſand of them being left dead in the field of battle.

Soon after, the inhabitants of Capua requeſt⯑ed to have a Roman garriſon to winter there, to ſecure them from the inſults of the Samnites. Their deſire was accordingly complied with, but Capua was ever noted for being the de⯑ſtroyer of military diſcipline, and for enervat⯑ing its protectors. It offered ſo many delights, and gratified ſo largely all the ſofter paſſions, that the Roman garriſon began to loſe not only their courage, but their virtue. They formed a deſign of deſtroying the inhabitants, and tak⯑ing the town to themſelves. This deſign they communicated to their companions in other parts of the country, and they as readily em⯑braced the propoſal. At length however, it came to the notice of the officers, who deteſt⯑ing ſo much baſeneſs, led the legions into the field, and kept them in action, in order to pre⯑vent their returning to their former deſigns. But notwithſtanding the care of the general and officers, the ſoldiers finding themſelves lia⯑ble to the ſevereſt puniſhments for their late perfidious ſchemes, began to mutiny, and unit⯑ing themſelves into one body, marched directly [201] forward for Rome. For ſome time they were without a leader, no man being bold enough, or baſe enough to head an army, whoſe confe⯑derating principle was treachery. At length they forced Quintius, an old and eminent ſol⯑dier, who was then reſiding in the country, to be their leader, and conducted by their rage, more than their general, came within eight miles of the city. So terrible an enemy, almoſt at the gates, not a little alarmed the ſenate, who immediately created Valerius Corvus, dic⯑tator, and ſent him forth with another army to oppoſe them. The two armies were now drawn up againſt each other, while fathers and ſons beheld themſelves prepared to engage in oppo⯑ſite cauſes. Any other general but Corvus might have brought this civil war to an ex⯑tremity, but he knowing his influence among the ſoldiery, inſtead of going forward to meet the mutineers in an hoſtile manner, went with the moſt cordial friendſhip to embrace his old acquaintance. ‘"I have had, cried he, my friends, opportunities enough of ſhewing my valour in war, I now only want to acquire reputation by making peace. You cannot diſtruſt me, my friends, or think Valerius Corvus can ever be ſevere, who never yet got one law enacted in the ſenate, that was contrary to your intereſts. You cannot think he will be ſevere, whoſe auſterities were ever [202] practiſed only upon himſelf. But whatever you do, I am reſolved to behave as becomes me; if I draw my ſword, it ſhall not be till you have drawn yours firſt; if blood muſt be ſhed, you ſhall begin the ſlaughter. But whom will you deſtroy? Not your enemies, not the Samnites or the Volſcians, but your fathers, brothers, children, countrymen, and in the view of theſe very mountains that gave you birth and education together. But let it not be ſo. You, Quintius, if indeed you are the commander of this ſhameful ex⯑pedition, have only to aſk with reaſon, and we will grant with mercy."’ The whole ar⯑my ſeemed aſſected with this ſpeech. Quintius, as their ſpeaker, only deſired to have their de⯑fection from their duty forgiven; and as for himſelf, as he was innocent of their conſpiracy, he had no reaſon to ſollicit pardon for any of⯑fence. Thus, this defection, which at firſt threatened ſuch dangers to Rome, was repaired by the prudence and moderation of a general, whoſe ambition it was to be gentle to his friends, and formidable only to his enemies. The mutineers were once more received into favour, and the dictator having no further employment abroad, laid down his office.

U. C. 411 In the mean while, as the war with the Sam⯑nites was for ſome time carried on with various [203] ſucceſs, a peace was concluded, which ſeemed ſo offenſive to the Latins and the Campanians, that it induced them to revolt. The former carried their demands ſo far as to inſiſt, that one of the conſuls and half the ſenate ſhould be choſen out of their body, before they would ſubmit to think of peace. The Romans at firſt tried by gentle means to turn them from their purpoſe; but they inſiſted upon it ſtill more re⯑ſolutely, aſcribing the lenity of Rome to its fears. In order therefore to chaſtize them, the two conſuls, Manlius Torquatus, and his col⯑league, Decius Mus, were ſent by the ſenate to invade their country. However, the Latins were not remiſs in their preparations for a de⯑fence, ſo that the two armies met with equal animoſity, and a bloody and obſtinate battle en⯑ſued. In this battle, the ſtrict diſcipline of the Romans, and their amazing patriotiſm were diſplayed, in a manner that has excited rather the wonder, than the admiration of poſterity. As the Latins and Romans were a neighbour⯑ing people, and their habits, arms, and language were the ſame, the moſt exact diſcipline was ne⯑ceſſary, to prevent confuſion in the engagement. Orders therefore were iſſued by Manlius the conſul, that no ſoldier ſhould leave his ranks upon whatever provocation, and that he ſhould be certainly put to death, who offered to do otherwiſe. With theſe injunctions, both armies [204] were drawn out in array, and ready to begin, when Metius, the general of the enemies caval⯑ry, puſhed forward from his lines, and chal⯑lenged any knight in the Roman army, to ſin⯑gle combat. For ſome time there was a general pauſe, no ſoldier offering to diſobey his orders, till Titus Manlius, the conſul's ſon, burning with ſhame, to ſee the whole body of the Ro⯑mans intimidated, boldly ſingled out againſt his adverſary. The ſoldiers on both ſides, for a while, ſuſpended the general engagement, to be ſpectators of this fierce encounter. The two champions drove their horſes againſt each other with great violence: Metius wounded his ad⯑verſary's horſe in the neck, but Manlius, with better fortune, killed that of Metius. The La⯑tin being thus fallen to the ground, for a while attempted to ſupport himſelf upon his ſhield, but the Roman followed his blows with ſo much force, that he laid him dead, as he was endeavouring to riſe, and then deſpoiling him of his armour, returned in triumph to the conſul, his father's tent, where he was prepar⯑ing and giving orders relative to the engage⯑ment. Howſoever he might have been ap⯑plauded by his fellow ſoldiers, being as yet doubtful of the reception he ſhould find from his father, he came with heſitation, to lay the enemy's ſpoils at his feet, and with a modeſt air inſinuated, that what he did, was entirely from [205] a ſpirit of hereditary virtue. But he was ſoon dreadfully made ſenſible of his error, when his father, turning away, ordered him to be led publickly forth before the army. Here being brought forward, the conſul, with a ſtern coun⯑tenance, and yet with tears, ſpoke as follows, ‘"Titus Manlius, as thou haſt regarded neither the dignity of the conſulſhip, nor the com⯑mands of thy father, as thou haſt deſtroyed military diſcipline, and ſet a pattern of diſ⯑obedience by thy example, thou haſt reduced me to the deplorable extremity of ſacrificing my ſon or my country. But let us not heſi⯑tate in this dreadful alternative, a thouſand lives were well loſt in ſuch a cauſe; nor do I think, that thou thyſelf will refuſe to dye, when thy country is to reap the advantage of thy ſufferings. Go, Lictor, bind him, and let his death be our future example."’ The whole army was ſtruck with horror at this un⯑natural mandate; fear, for a while, kept them in ſuſpenſe, but when they ſaw their young champion's head ſtruck off, and his blood ſtreaming upon the ground, they could no longer contain their execrations, and their groans. His dead body was carried forth with⯑out the camp, and being adorned with the ſpoils of the vanquiſhed enemy, it was buried with all the pomp of military diſtreſs.

[206] In the mean time, the battle joined with mu⯑tual fury, and as the two armies had often fought under the ſame leaders, they combated with all the animoſity of a civil war. The La⯑tins chiefly depended on their bodily ſtrength, the Romans on their invincible courage and conduct. Forces ſo nearly matched, ſeemed only to require the protection of their deities, to turn the ſcale of victory, and in fact, the augurs had foretold, that whatever part of the Roman army ſhould be diſtreſt, the commander of that part ſhould devote himſelf for his coun⯑try, and die as a ſacrifice to the immortal gods. Manlius commanded the right wing, and De⯑cius led on the left. Both ſides fought for ſome time with doubtful ſucceſs, as their courage was equal; but, after a time, the left wing of the Roman army began to give ground. It was then that Decius, who commanded there, re⯑ſolved to devote himſelf for his country, and to offer his own life, as an atonement to ſave his army. Thus determined, he called out to Manlius with a loud voice, and demanded his inſtructions, as he was the chief Pontiff, how to devote himſelf, and the form of the words he ſhould uſe. By his directions therefore, be⯑ing cloathed in a long robe, his head covered, and his arms ſtretched forward, ſtanding upon a javelin, he devoted himſelf to the celeſtial and infernal gods, for the ſafety of Rome. [207] Then being armed and on horſeback, he drove furiouſly into the the midſt of the enemies, carrying terror and conſternation wherever he came, till he fell covered with wounds. In the mean time, the Roman army conſidered his devoting himſelf in this manner, as an aſſur⯑ance of ſucceſs: nor was the ſuperſtition of the Latins leſs powerfully influenced by his reſolu⯑tion, a total route began to enſue, the Romans preſſed them on every ſide, and ſo great was the carnage, that ſcarce a fourth part of the enemy ſurvived the defeat. This was the laſt battle of any conſequence, that the Latins had with the Romans; they were forced to beg a peace upon hard conditions, and two years af⯑ter, their ſtrongeſt city Paedum being taken, they were brought into an entire ſubmiſſion to the Roman power.

The Samnites however, were ſtill uncon⯑quered; a peace had been made with them ſome time before, which neither ſide ſeemed long inclined to preſerve. Their giving aſſiſt⯑ance to the Campanians, who had formerly begged the protection of the Romans againſt them, and now entreated theirs againſt Rome, renewed a war, which, though intermitted by various treaties and ſuſpenſions, was to end only with the ruin of the ſtate. For ſome time in⯑deed, the fate of either nation ſeemed uncertain, for though the Samnites were in general worſt⯑ed, [208] a ſignal diſgrace which the Romans ſuſtain⯑ed about this time, made a pauſe in their uſual good fortune, and turned the ſcale for a while, in the enemies favour. The ſenate having de⯑nied the Samnites peace, Pontius, their general, was reſolved to gain by ſtratagem, what he had frequently loſt by force. Accordingly, leading his army to a defile, called Claudium, and tak⯑ing poſſeſſion of all its outlets, he ſent ten of his ſoldiers, habited like ſhepherds, with direc⯑tions to throw themſelves in the way the Ro⯑mans were to march. Exactly to his wiſhes, the Roman conſul met them, and taking them for what they appeared, demanded the route the Samnite army had taken: they, with ſeem⯑ing indifference replied, that they were gone to Luceria, a town in Apulia, and were then ac⯑tually beſieging it. The Roman general not ſuſpecting the ſtratagem that was laid againſt him, marched directly by the ſhorteſt road, which lay through the defiles, to relieve the city, and did not find himſelf deceived, till he ſaw his army ſurrounded, and blocked up on every ſide. The Samnites having the Roman army at this great diſadvantage, immediately ſent off to Herennius, their general's father, for inſtructions how to proceed. The old crafty Samnite, who knew the diſpoſition of the Ro⯑mans, and that a fierce enemy was either to be entirely vanquiſhed or entirely won, adviſed his [209] ſon, either indiſcriminately to the ſword, or to diſmiſs them all without ſhame or injury; urg⯑ing at the ſame time, that one of theſe two ways was abſolutely neceſſary; the firſt would incapacitate them from future annoyance, the laſt would lay them under an obligation, which they could never remove. This counſel, though the moſt prudent that could be imagined, was rejected; a middle way was taken, which only ſerved to exaſperate the Romans, but not to ſubdue them. Pontius firſt obliged their army to paſs under the yoke, having been previouſly ſtript of all but their under garments; he then ſtipu [...]ated, that they ſhould wholly quit the ter⯑ritories of the Samnites, and that they ſhould continue to live upon terms of former confe⯑deracy. The Romans were conſtrained to ſub⯑mit to this ignominious treaty, and marched into Capua diſarmed, half-naked, and burning with a deſire of retrieving their loſt honour. When the army arrived at Rome, the whole city was moſt ſurpriſingly afflicted at their ſhameful return. Nothing but fury and revenge appeared on every face, while the conſuls, who were the unfortunate inſtruments of their diſ⯑grace, refuſed to appear abroad, or to perform the neceſſary functions of their office. A dic⯑tator was choſen, who had no opportunity of acting; he laid down his office, and the ſtate continued for ſome time without any ſupreme [210] magiſtrate at its head; nothing but grief and reſentment was to be ſeen, and the whole city was put into mourning.

But this was but a tranſitory calamity, the ſtate had ſuffered a diminution of its glory, but not of its power; it only therefore ſought an opportunity of breaking a compact, which the army had made merely by compulſion. The two conſuls who had entered into this treaty of⯑fered themſelves up to the enemy, as being the only perſons that could be called to account: but Pontius who juſtly obſerved, that the lives of two men were not an equivalent for thoſe of an army, refuſed to receive the forfeit, and ſent them back, greatly exclaiming againſt the per⯑fidiouſneſs of Rome. The war was now there⯑fore renewed, and the Samnites overthrown in ſeveral battles, the Romans ſerving them, as they themſelves had been treated before. Theſe ſuc⯑ceſſes produced a truce of two years, which when expired, the war was carried on as uſual, for many years; the power of the Samnites declining every day, while the Romans ga⯑thered freſh confidence from every victory. Un⯑der the conduct of Papyrius Curſor, who was at different times conſul and dictator, repeated tri⯑umphs were gained. Fabius Maximus alſo had his ſhare in the glory of conquering them, and Decius, the ſon of that Decius, whom we have ſeen devoting himſelf for his country, about [211] forty years before, followed the example of his noble father, and ruſhing into the midſt of the enemy, ſaved the lives of his countrymen by the loſs of his own. It may ſeem indeed ſtrange, how the Samnites could ſo long conti⯑nue to make head againſt the Roman power, but we muſt conſider, that they were aided by all the little ſtates round them, who were ei⯑ther attached to them by intereſt, or united by a jealouſy of Rome's growing greatneſs. Thus the Tarentines, the Lucani, the Thurini, and all the ſouthern ſtates of Italy, by turns, ſent aſſiſtance, which for a while checked the progreſs of the conquerors. But their ſtop was of ſhort dura⯑tion: both they, as well as the Samnites, after repeated defeats, ſaw themſelves at laſt ſtripped of their cities, and the greateſt part of their country: they ſaw themſelves, at the end of a long war, quite exhauſted, near two hundred thouſand of their braveſt men being killed in battle. In this diſtreſs, as the Italian ſtates were unable to defend themſelves, they were obliged to call in the aſſiſtance of a foreign power, and had recourſe to Pyrrhus, king of Epirus, to ſave them from impending ruin.

Pyrrhus, a king of great courage, ambition and power, had always kept the example of Alexander, his great predeceſſor, before his eyes: he was reckoned the moſt experienced general of his time, and commanded a body of [212] troops, then ſuppoſed to be the beſt diſciplined of all the nations round them. The Romans were now therefore no longer to combat with a tumultuary force, raiſed in times of exigence, and depending on their courage alone for victo⯑ry: they were to oppoſe an army levied amongſt the moſt poliſhed people then exiſting, formed under the greateſt generals, and led on by the moſt noted commander of his time. Pyrrhus, as was ſaid, having been applied to for ſuccour by the Tarentines, who in the name of all the declining ſtates of Italy, conjured him to ſave them from the threatening diſtreſs, promiſed to come to their aſſiſtance. In the mean time he diſpatched over a body of three thouſand men, under the command of Cineas, an experienced ſoldier, and a ſcholar of the great orator De⯑moſthenes. Nor did he himſelf remain long behind, but ſoon after put to ſea with three thouſand horſe, twenty thouſand foot, and twenty elephants, in which the commanders of that time began to place very great confidence. Only a ſmall part however, of theſe great pre⯑parations arrived in Italy with him, for many of his ſhips were diſperſed, and ſome totally loſt in a tempeſt. Upon his arrival at Tarentum, his firſt care was to reform the people he came to ſuccour; for obſerving a total diſſolution of manners in this luxurious city, and how the in⯑habitants were rather occupied with the plea⯑ſures [213] of bathing, feaſting, and dancing, than in preparing for war; he gave orders to have all their places of public entertainment ſhut up, and that they ſhould be reſtrained in all theſe amuſements that render ſoldiers unfit for battle. He attempted to repreſs their licentious manner of treating their governors, and even ſummoned ſome who had mentioned his own name with ridicule, to appear before him. However, he was prevented from puniſhing them by their ingenuous manner of confeſſing the charge. ‘"Yes, cried they, we have ſpoken all this againſt you, and would have ſaid ſtill more, but that we had no more wine."’ But though he forgave them with a ſmile, he took the moſt prudent precautions to guard himſelf againſt their well-known inſincerity; ſending his ſon out of the city, and removing all thoſe he ſuſ⯑pected moſt forward to promote ſedition. In the mean time, the Romans did all that pru⯑dence could ſuggeſt, to oppoſe ſo formidable an enemy, and the conſul Laevinus was ſent with a numerous army to interrupt his progreſs. Where⯑fore Pyrrhus, though his whole army was not yet arrived, drew out to meet him, but previ⯑ouſly ſent an ambaſſador, deſiring to be per⯑mitted to mediate between the Romans and the people of Tarentum. To this Laevinus returned for anſwer, that he neither eſteemed him as a mediator, nor feared him as an enemy, and [214] then leading the ambaſſador through the Ro⯑man camp, deſired him to obſerve diligently what he ſaw, and report the reſult to his maſter.

War being thus determined on either part, both armies approaching, pitched their tents in ſight of each other, upon the oppoſite banks of the river Lyris. Pyrrhus was always extremely careful in directing the ſituation of his own camp, and in obſerving that of the enemy. It was here, that walking along the banks of the river, and ſurveying the Roman method of encamp⯑ing, ‘"Theſe barbarians, cried he, turning to one of his favourites, ſeem to me to be no way barbarous, and I fear, we ſhall too ſoon find their actions equal to their reſolution."’ However, ordering a body of men along the banks of the river, he placed them in readineſs to oppoſe the Romans, in caſe they ſhould at⯑tempt to ford it before his whole army was brought together. Things turned out accord⯑ing to his expectations; the conſul, with an impetuoſity that marked his inexperience, gave orders for paſſing the river, where it was ford⯑able, and the Epirean advanced-guard having attempted to oppoſe him in vain, were obliged to retire to the main body of their army. Pyr⯑rhus being apprized of the enemies attempt, at firſt hoped to cut off their cavalry, before they could be reinforced by the foot, that were not as yet got over, and led on in perſon a choſen [215] body of horſe againſt them. It was on this occaſion, that he ſhewed himſelf equal to his great reputation: he was conſtantly ſeen at the head of his men, leading them on with ſpirit, yet directing them with calmneſs; at once per⯑forming the office of a general, and the duty of a common ſoldier, he ſhewed the greateſt pre⯑ſence of mind joined to the greateſt valour. He was chiefly conſpicuous by the nobleneſs of his air, and the richneſs of his armour, ſo that wherever he appeared, the throng of the battle was gathered round him. In the midſt of the engagement his horſe happening to be killed under him, he was obliged to change armour with one of his attendants, and go to another part of the combat, that required his imme⯑diate preſence. Mean while, the Roman knights miſtaking this attendant for the king himſelf, le⯑velled all their attempts that way, and at laſt ſlew him, and carried his armour to the conſul. The report being ſpread through both armies, that the king was ſlain, the Greeks were ſtruck with a general panic, and the Romans began to aſſure themſelves of victory. But Pyrrhus in the in⯑ſtant came bareheaded into the van, and repeat⯑edly crying out, that he ſtill lived, he inſpired his ſoldiers with new vigour. At length the Roman legions had advanced acroſs the river, and the engagement was become general; the Greeks fought with a conſciouſneſs of their former [216] fame, and the Romans with a deſire of gaining freſh glory: mankind had never before ſeen two ſuch differently diſciplined armies oppoſed to each other, nor is it to this day determined, whether the Greek phalanx or the Roman l [...] ⯑gion were preferable. The combat was long in ſuſpenſe; the Romans had ſeven times repulſed the enemy, and were as often driven back them⯑ſelves, but at length, while the ſucceſs ſeemed doubtful, Pyrrhus ſent his elephants into the midſt of the engagement, and theſe turned the ſcale of victory in his favour. The Romans had never before ſeen creatures of ſuch magnitude, they were terrified not only with their intrepid fierceneſs, but with the caſtles which were built upon their backs, filled with armed men; they conſidered them, rather as prodigies ſent to de⯑ſtroy, than as animals trained up to ſubdue them. But not only the men, but the horſes ſhared in this general conſternation, neither en⯑during the ſmell nor the cries of theſe formi⯑dable creatures, but throwing their riders, they filled the ranks with confuſion. It was then that Pyrrhus ſaw the day was his own, and ſending in his Theſſalian cavalry to charge the enemy in diſorder, the rout became general. A dreadful ſla [...]ghter of the Romans enſued, fifteen thou⯑ſand men being killed on the ſpot, and eighteen hundred taken priſoners. Nor were the con⯑querors much in a better ſtate than the van⯑quiſhed, [217] Pyrrhus himſelf being wounded, and thirteen thouſand of his forces ſlain. Night coming on put an end to the ſlaughter on both ſides, and Pyrrhus was heard to cry out, that one ſuch victory more would ruin his army. The next day, as he walked to view the field of battle, he could not help regarding with admi⯑ration, the bodies of the Romans which were ſlain: upon ſeeing them all with their wounds before, their countenances, though even in death, marked with noble reſolution, and a ſternneſs that awed him into reſpect; he was heard to cry out in the true ſpirit of a military adventurer, ‘"O with what eaſe could I con⯑quer the world, had I the Romans for ſol⯑diers, or had they me for their king."’ The Romans were highly pleaſed with this politeneſs in an enemy, but ſtill more with his civil treat⯑ment, and his courteſy to the priſoners he had taken; complaiſance to the captives, was a degree of refinement the Romans were yet to learn from the Greeks; but it was only ſuffi⯑cient to ſhew this brave people an improve⯑ment, either in morals or war, and they imme⯑diately ſet about imitation.

The Romans, though defeated, were ſtill unconquered, they again began to uſe all neceſ⯑ſary diligence to recruit their army, and to op⯑poſe the conqueror, who joined by the ſouthern ſtates of Italy, was marching directly towards [218] Rome. However, he was ſtill unwilling to drive them to an extremity, and finding them making great preparations, he conſidered, that it was beſt treating with an enemy after having gained a victory over them; he reſolved there⯑fore to ſend his friend Cineas, the orator, to ne⯑gotiate, and uſe all his arts to induce them to peace. He had long repoſed great confidence in the abilities and perſuaſive powers of this ſcholar of Demoſthenes, and often aſſerted, that he had won more towns by the eloquence of Cineas, than by his own arms. The old crafty Grecian readily undertook the embaſſy, and enter⯑ing Rome, began his negotiation, by attempting to influence not only the ſenators, but even their wives, by preſents which he ſaid were ſent them by his maſter. This however, was the age of Roman virtue; the ſenators refuſed to accept theſe bounties, which they conſidered as bribes to betray their country, and the women were not behind their huſbands in their noble diſintereſtedneſs. They bade him give back to his maſter thoſe allurements to treaſon, adding, that they would then only accept his offers, when the ſenate had conſidered whether they ſhould ac [...]pt his terms of peace. Never was there a tim [...] [...]n which all the military and patri⯑otic virtues ſ [...]ne with greater luſtre than now. The ſenators [...]ing by a late law, as has been related, reduced their fortunes more nearly to a [219] level with thoſe of the people, began to ſeek diſtinction from virtue only, and deſpiſed thoſe riches which could not be encreaſed ſo as to place them at a diſtance from the vulgar. Thus Cineas, with all his art, found the Romans im⯑practicable, either by bribery or private perſua⯑ſion: finding therefore, theſe methods ineffec⯑tual, he proceeded to his commiſſion more pub⯑lickly, and was, at his requeſt, introduced to the ſenate. Here he began by extolling his maſter's courage and clemency; his deſire of patronizing the brave, and his particular eſteem for the Romans. He proceeded to inculcate the bleſſings of peace, and the fine opportunity the ſenate then had of reſtoring it. He offered, in his maſter's name, to return all that had been lately taken in battle, without ranſom; to give aſſiſtance to the Romans on any future occaſion; and all that was aſked in return, was their alliance and friendſhip, together with per⯑miſſion to have the Tarentines included in the treaty. Theſe offers, and ſtill more the orator's eloquence appeared to touch the whole aſſem⯑bly; a general inclination ſeemed to prevail in favour of the king's propoſal, and a peace was confidently talked of in every part of the city. In this juncture, Appius Claudius, an old ſe⯑nator, who was now grown blind with age, and had long diſcontinued public buſineſs, cauſed himſelf to be carried into the houſe in a [220] litter. The ſurprize of ſeeing him in the ſenate again, and numberleſs infirmities which he ap⯑peared to ſurmount in coming, awed the whole aſſembly into ſilence and attention. ‘"I have l [...]ng," cried he, raiſing himſelf from his couch, "conſidered my blindneſs and my in⯑firmities as evils; thought that heaven had been willing to puniſh my old age, for the faults I had committed when young, and had repaid a youth of folly with an age of pain, but now, conſcript fathers, I find that I have been peculiarly indulged in what I con⯑ſidered as calamities, ſince my loſs of ſight has hindered me from ſeeing the late diſ⯑honour of my country. Nay, might I make a wiſh, it ſhould be for deafneſs alſo, and then I ſhould no longer hear of what muſt now excite indignation in the breaſt of every virtuous Roman. How different are you now from what you were ſome years ago! Alexander, whom the world has called Great, was then thought nothing of in Rome; we then univerſally aſcribed his con⯑queſts not to his valour but his fortune. You then wiſhed that the tide of war might have brought him into Italy, only to ſhew the world your own ſuperior proweſs. But how are you fallen at preſent! You then wiſhed to combat with the conqueror of Greece, and now you fear to engage one of thoſe [221] ſtates which he actually conquered. You de⯑ſired to cope with Alexander, and yet you refuſe to meet one who has left his native country, rather through a fear of his ancient enemies, than a deſire of finding new. We have therefore but this alternative, either boldly to meet Pyrrhus in the field, or to be content to ſuffer all the contempt the neigh⯑bouring ſtates of Italy ſhall throw upon us, and thus by endeavouring to avoid one war, engage ourſelves in an hundred."’ This ſpeech was received with univerſal approbation; the aſſembly grew warm in the praiſes of their rough old orator, and the ſmooth orations of Cineas were heard no more. Being therefore unable to make any progreſs in his embaſſy, he was diſmiſſed with an anſwer intimating, that when Pyrrhus ſhould withdraw his forces from Italy, that then the Senate would treat with him concerning peace.

Cineas being thus fruſtrated in his expecta⯑tions, returned to his maſter, extolling both the virtues and the grandeur of the Romans. The ſenate, he ſaid, appeared a reverend aſſem⯑bly of demi-gods, and the city a temple for their reception. Of this Pyrrhus ſoon after be⯑came ſenſible, by an embaſſy from Rome, con⯑cerning the ranſom and exchange of priſoners. At the head of this venerable deputation was Fabricius, an ancient ſenator, who had long [222] been a pattern to his countrymen of the moſt extreme poverty, joined with the moſt chearful content. This practical philopher, who had been formerly conſul, and was now the ambaſ⯑ſador of Rome, had no other plate furniture in his houſe, except a ſmall cup, the bottom even of which was of horn. His daughters being without fortunes, the ſenate generouſly por⯑tioned them from the public treaſury. When the Samnites had formerly offered him large preſents, he refuſed them, ſaying, that he was already rich, as he had learned the art of leſ⯑ſening his wants by retrenching his appetites. Pyrrhus received this celebrated old man with great kindneſs, and willing to try how far fame had been juſt in his favour, offered him rich preſents, which however the Roman refuſed; the day after, he was deſirous of examining the equality of his temper, and ordered one of his elephants to be placed behind the tapeſtry, which upon a ſignal given, raiſed its trunk above the ambaſſador's head, at the ſame time uſing other arts to intimidate him. Fabricius however, with a countenance no way changing, ſmile▪ upon the king, obſerving, that he looked wit [...] an equal eye on the terrors of this day, as h [...] had upon the aliurements of the preceding [...] Pyrrhus pleaſed to find ſo much virtue in on [...] he had conſidered as a barbarian, was willin [...] to grant him the only favour which he kne [...] [223] could make him happy. He releaſed the Ro⯑man priſoners, intruſting them to Fabricius alone, upon his promiſe, that in caſe the ſenate were determined to continue the war, he might reclaim them whenever he thought proper.

By this time the Roman army was recovered U. C. 474 from its late defeat, and Sulpicius and Decius, the conſuls for the following year, were placed at its head. The panic which had formerly ſeized it from the elephants, now began to wear off, and the generals, with great aſſidui⯑ty, applied themſelves to imitate the diſcipline of Pyrrhus, and the Grecian method of en⯑campment. It was in this manner they always adopted the improvements of other nations, and learned by defeat the power of becoming invin⯑cible. Both armies met near the city Aſculum, both pretty nearly equal in numbers, being about forty thouſand ſtrong. Pyrrhus found himſelf incommoded by a woody country, that prevented his phalanx and elephants from being ſo ſerviceable as in the plain, he therefore con⯑tinued for ſome time rather upon the defen⯑ſive, until night ſhould give him time to make a more advantageous diſpoſition. The next morning he cauſed a detachment of his cavalry to poſſeſs themſelves of the upper grounds, and thus force the enemy into the plain, which when they had ſucceſsfully effected, he brought down his elephants into the thickeſt of the [224] fight, and mixing his ſlingers and archer [...] among them, formed a body that the Ro⯑mans were ſcarce able to reſiſt; beſides, not having the advantages of advancing and retreat⯑ing, as the day before, the battle became cloſe and general. The Roman legions at firſt were unable to pierce the Greek phalanx, but at length, careleſs of their own lives, they made a deſperate ſlaughter among them. In fine, after a long and obſtinate fight, the Grecian diſcipline prevailed, and the Romans being preſſed on every ſide, particularly by the ele⯑phants, were obliged to retire to their camp, leaving ſix thouſand men dead upon the field of battle. But the enemy had no great reaſon to boaſt of their triumph, as they had four thou⯑ſand ſlain, ſo that Pyrrhus replied to one of his ſoldiers who was congratulating him upon his victory, ‘"one ſuch triumph more, and I ſhall be undone."’ Nor was he unjuſt in the aſſer⯑tion, as by this time, the greateſt part of thoſe forces which had followed him from home were deſtroyed, and his friends and generals were moſtly cut off.

This battle finiſhing the campaign, the next ſeaſon began with equal vigour on both ſides. Pyrrhus having received new ſuccours from home, while old Fabricius, who was made conſul with Aemilius, led on the Romans, no way diſcouraged by their former defeat. While [225] the two armies were approaching, and yet but a ſmall diſtance from each other, a letter was brought to Frabricius from the king's phyſi⯑cian, importing, that for a proper reward, he would take him off by poiſon, and thus rid the Romans of a powerful enemy and a dangerous war. Fabricius felt all the honeſt indignation at this baſe propoſal, that was conſonant with his former character, he communicated it to his colleague, and inſtantly gave it as his opi⯑nion, that Pyrrhus ſhould be informed of the treachery that was plotted againſt him. Ac⯑cordingly, letters were diſpatched for that pur⯑poſe, informing Pyrrhus of his unfortunate choice of friends and enemies. That he had truſted and promoted villains, while he carried his reſentment againſt the generous and the and the brave. Pyrrhus now began to find that theſe bold barbarians were by degrees ſchooling into refinement, and would not ſuffer him to be their ſuperior even in generoſity: he received the meſſage with equal amazement at their candour, and indignation at his phyſician's treachery. ‘"Admirable Fabricius! cried he, it would be as eaſy to turn the ſun from its courſe, as thee from the paths of honour."’ Then making the proper enquiry among his ſervants, and having diſcovered the treaſon, he ordered his phyſician to be executed. However, not to be outdone in magnanimity, he immedi⯑ately [226] ſent to Rome all his priſoners without ran⯑ſom, and again deſired to negotiate a peace. The Romans, on the other hand, refuſed him peace, but upon the ſame conditions as they had offered before, and releaſed as many of the Samnites and Tarentines as equalled the number of the priſon⯑ers they had received. The king was a good deal aſtoniſhed at the Roman obſtinacy; he appeared divided between ſhame and neceſſity, his cir⯑cumſtances obliging him in ſome meaſure, to diſcontinue the war, while his honour was hurt in being compelled to leave it unfiniſhed. However, an invitation from the Sicilians, begging relief againſt the Carthaginians, who had poſſeſſed their iſland, and treated them cruelly, relieved him from his embarraſſment. This expedition promiſſed more rewards and leſs labour, and ſuch were the chief objects of this military rambler's attention. He therefore placed a garriſon in Tarentum, much againſt the inclination of the inhabitants, and then ſending his friend Cineas before him, followed with all the reſt of his forces to relieve Sicily.

In the mean time, the Samnites and Taren⯑tines being left to the mercy of the Romans, continued to ſollicit him with the moſt earneſt ſupplications, to return to protect them. Pyr⯑rhus, whom his ſucceſſes in Sicily had for ſome time made deaf to their entreaties, was, after a lapſe of two years ſpent in ineffectual victory, [227] glad to have a ſpecious pretext to leave this country alſo, as he had formerly left Italy. He therefore, with ſome difficulty, once more re⯑turned to Tarentum, at the head of twenty thouſand foot and three thouſand horſe. The Romans, though preſſed by ſo formidable a power as that of Pyrrhus, had not yet forgot⯑ten the ancient animoſity between the orders of the ſtate, and upon a levy being ſet forward to form an army to oppoſe him, ſeveral of the people refuſed to enliſt. In order to repreſs a ſedition which threatened nothing leſs than the deſtruction of the empire▪ the conſuls reſolved to act with ſpirit, and accordingly commanded that the names of the citizens ſhould be drawn by lot, and that he who firſt refuſed to take the field, ſhould be ſold as a ſlave. This timely ſeverity had its effect, and whenever after any man refuſed to enliſt when called upon, he was inſtantly treated by the conſuls in that manner. Having thus raiſed a ſufficient body of forces, the conſuls divided their army into two parts▪ and marched into the enemies coun⯑try, one into Lucania, and the other among the Samnites. Pyrrhus having encreaſed his his army alſo by new levies, and being inform⯑ed of this, divided his forces alſo, and ſent one part to oppoſe the march of Lentulus, while he himſelf went to attack Curius Dentatus, be⯑fore his colleague could come up. His prin⯑cipal [228] aim was to ſurprize the enemy by night, but unfortunately paſſing through woods, and his lights failing him, his men loſt their way, ſo that at the approach of morning, they ſaw themſeves in ſight of the Roman camp, with the enemy drawn out ready to receive them. The vanguard of both armies ſoon met, in which the Romans had the advantage. Soon after a general engagement enſuing, Pyrrhus finding the ballance of the victory turning ſtill againſt him, had once more recourſe to his ele⯑phants. Theſe however, the Romans were now too well acquainted with, to feel any vain ter⯑rors from, and having found, that fire was the moſt effectual means to repel them, they cauſed numbers of balls to be made, compoſed of flax and roſin, which were thrown againſt them as they approached the ranks. The elephants thus rendered furious by the flame, and as boldly oppoſed by the ſoldiers, could no longer be brought on, but ran back on their own ar⯑my, bearing down their ranks, and filling all places with terror and confuſion. Thus victory at length declared in favour of Rome: Phr⯑rhus in vain attempted to ſtop the flight and the ſlaughter of his troops; he loſt not only twenty-three thouſand of his beſt ſoldiers, but his camp was alſo taken. This ſerved as a new leſſon to the Romans, who were ever open to improvement: they had formerly pitched [229] their tents without order, but by this, they were taught to meaſure out their ground, and fortify the whole with a trench, ſo that many of their ſucceeding victories may be aſcribed to their improved method of encamping.

In the mean time, while the two conſuls were entering triumphant into Rome, Pyr⯑rhus bore his defeat with unbroken courage; his firſt care was to ſecure a retreat, and then to keep up the ſpirits of his ailies, with pro⯑miſes of better ſucceſs for the future. This he old till he had tried the utmoſt of what his in⯑tereſt could do, to furniſh out another campaign. However, finding all hopes of that fruitleſs, he reſolved to leave Italy, where he had found only deſperate enemies and faithleſs allies. Accord⯑ingly, calling together the Tarentines, he in⯑formed them, that he had received aſſurances from Greece, of ſpeedy aſſiſtance, and deſiring them to expect the event with tranquillity: the night following he embarked his troops, and returned undiſturbed into his native kingdom, with the remains of his ſhattered forces; firſt leaving a garriſon in Tarentum, merely to ſave appearances. In this manner ended the war with Pyrrhus, after ſix years continuance. Thro' the whole of this, we find the Romans acting a nobler part than in any former period, en⯑deavouring to join the politeneſs of Greece to the virtuous auſterity of their own manners. [230] A ſpirit of frugality, contempt of wealth, and virtuous emulation had ſpread itſelf over the whole ſenate. Fabricius not only brought po⯑verty into faſhion by his example, but puniſh⯑ed all approaches to luxury, by his authority as a magiſtrate. About this time, in the cen⯑ſorſhip of Fabricius, Ruffinus, who had been twice a conſul and once a dictator, was turned out of the ſenate, and had a mark of infamy put upon his name, for no other offence, than being poſſeſſed of ten pound of ſilver plate for the uſe of his table. By this love of temper⯑ance, and theſe ſucceſſes in war, though the individuals were poor, the public was rich; the number of citizens alſo was encreaſed to above two hundred thouſand men, capable of bearing arms, and the fame of the Roman name was ſo far extended, that Ptolomy Phila⯑delphus, king of Egypt, ſent ambaſſadors to congratulate their ſucceſs, and to entreat their alliance. As for the poor luxurious Tarentines, who were the original promoters of this war, they ſoon began to find a worſe enemy in the garriſon that was left for their defence, than in the Romans who attacked them from without. The hatred between them and Milo, who commanded their citadel for Pyrrhus, was be⯑come ſo great, that nothing but the fear of their old inveterate enemies the Romans, could equal it. In this diſtreſs they applied to the Car⯑thaginians, [231] who with a large fleet came and blocked up the port of Tarentum; ſo that this unfortunate people, who once were famous through Italy for their refinements and plea⯑ſures, now ſaw themſelves contended for by three different armies, while they were not even left the choice of a conqueror. At length, however, the Romans found means to bring over the garriſon to their intereſt, after which, they eaſily became maſters of the city, and de⯑moliſhed its walls, granting the inhabitants li⯑berty and protection.

CHAP. XV. From the beginning of the firſt Punic war to the beginning of the ſecond, when the Romans be⯑gan to grow powerful by ſea.

THE Romans had now deſtroyed all rival U. C. 489 pretenſions in Italy; the Tarentines, the Sam⯑nites, the Lucanians were now no more, or patiently took laws from the conquerors. Their victory over Pyrrhus not only gave them repu⯑tation abroad, but kindled an ambition for fo⯑reign conqueſt. They began alſo to know, though not to practiſe the refinements of the Greeks and Tarentines, whom they had con⯑quered; the number of their huſbandmen di⯑miniſhed, [232] while, as in all ſtates becoming opu⯑lent, their artizans and gentry continually en⯑creaſed. The environs of the city were now therefore no longer able to furniſh their grow⯑ing numbers with corn, and ſupplies were brought from the kingdoms abroad. Of theſe, Sicily ſent by far the greateſt proportion, ſo that the people began ſecretly to wiſh for the poſſeſ⯑ſion of a country, which had for ſome time ſerved as the granary of Rome. To minds pre⯑diſpoſed for conqueſt, a pretext to begin is ſel⯑dom wanting. The Carthaginians were at that time in poſſeſſion of the greateſt part of Sicily, and, like the Romans, only wanted an opportu⯑nity of embroiling the natives, in order to be⯑come maſters of the whole iſland. This op⯑portunity had now offered; Hiero, king of Sy⯑racuſe, one of the ſtates of the Iſland as yet un⯑conquered, entreated their aid againſt the Ma⯑mertines, a little people of the ſame country, and they ſent him ſupplies both by land and ſea. The Mamertines, on the other hand, to ſhield off impending ruin, put themſelves under the protection of Rome. The Romans how⯑ever, not thinking the Mamertines worthy of the name of allies, inſtead of profeſſing to aſ⯑ſiſt them, boldly declared war againſt Carthage, alledging as a reaſon, the aſſiſtance which Car⯑thage had lately lent to the ſouthern parts of Italy againſt the Romans. In this manner a [233] war was declared between theſe two powerful ſtates, who were both grown too great to con⯑tinue patient ſpectators of each others encreaſe.

Carthage, a colony of the Phaenicians, was built on the coaſt of Africa, near the place where Tunis now ſtands, about an hundred and thirty-ſeven years before the foundation of Rome. As it had been long growing into power, ſo it had extended its dominions all along the coaſts, and was in poſſeſſion alſo of many of the principal Iſlands in the Mediterranean ſea. But its chief ſtrength lay in its fleets and com⯑merce; by theſe its riches were become im⯑menſe, and by their money alone, they were capable of hiring and ſending forth armies to conquer or to keep their neighbours under ſub⯑jection. However, as they had now been long in poſſeſſion of affluence, the ſtate began to feel the evils that wealth is too apt to produce; for as at Rome, public employments were made the reward of virtue only, and ſuperior honour only raiſed to a preference of toils, ſo in Car⯑thage, the ſeveral offices which the ſtate had to beſtow, were venal, and thoſe who purchaſed them, only aimed at being reimburſed by all the ſordid arts of peculation. Thus unequally matched, theſe two great powers began what was called the firſt Punic war; the Carthagi⯑nians poſſeſſed of gold and ſilver, which might be exhauſted; the Romans of perſeverance, pa⯑triotiſm, [234] and poverty, which ſeemed to gather ſtrength by every defeat.

As the Romans had been hitherto ſhut up in their own dominions, they had but little knowledge of the method of tranſporting an army by ſea. Appius Claudius was the firſt, who by means of a feeble fleet, or, as ſome will have it, a raft of timber, carried over a ſmall body of forces into Sicily, where victory, as uſual, was ſtill attendant upon the fortune of Rome. A league made with Hiero, king of Syracuſe, ſoon after the conſul's arrival, began to inſpire the Romans with hopes of expelling the Carthaginians from the Iſland, and becom⯑ing maſters of it in their turn. But ſtill there ſeemed an unſurmountable obſtacle to their ambitious views; they had no fleet, or at leaſt what deſerved that title, while the Carthagini⯑ans being maſters of a very powerful one, had the entire command at ſea, and kept all the maritime towns under their obedience. In ſuch a ſituation, any people but the Romans, would have reſted contented, under diſadvantages which nature ſeemed to have impoſed, but no⯑thing could conquer or intimidate them. They began to apply themſelves to maritime affairs, and though without ſhipwrights to build, or ſeamen to navigate a fleet, yet they reſolved to ſurmount every obſtacle with inflexible perſe⯑verance. A Carthaginian veſſel happened to be [235] in a ſtorm driven aſhore, and this was ſuffi⯑cient to give the Romans hopes of building veſſels, that might one day control the long eſtabliſhed naval power of the Carthaginians. Accordingly, they diligently ſet about imitat⯑ing this ſhip, which was in itſelf, little better than a wreck, building an hundred and twenty more according to the model before them. But now, although they had ſomething like a fleet, which though clumſy and ill adapted for ſail⯑ing, was of ſome force, they ſtill wanted ſailors to manage it. As for the Romans themſelves, being bred up to huſbandry, they were per⯑fectly ignorant of maritime affairs; and the neighbouring ſtates whom they had lately con⯑quered, were either unwilling to embark, or not to be relied on. In this exigence, they taught their men to row upon land, inſtruct⯑ing them in the naval manner of engaging, as well as they could, leaving it to their native valour to do the reſt. The conſul Duillius was the firſt who ventured to ſea with this new con⯑ſtructed armament; but he ſoon however, found, that the enemy was every way ſuperior in point of ſailing, and bringing on their veſ⯑ſels to an engagement. But the indefatigable ſpirit of the Romans was not to be ſubdued; he found out a remedy even here, by inventing an inſtrument, which, upon an impulſe of two ſhips, kept them both grappled together, ſo [236] that neither could ſeparate, until courage had decided the victory. By this, a naval engage⯑ment became more like one at land; ſo that when the two rival fleets met, the Romans had the victory, the Carthaginians loſing fifty of their ſhips, and the undiſturbed ſovereignty of the ſea, which they valued more. Theſe ſuc⯑ceſſes were ſo unexpected by the ſenate, that Duillius their admiral obtained a ſignal triumph, with orders, that whenever he went out to ſup⯑per, there ſhould be a band of muſic to attend him.

In the mean time, the conteſt was carried on by land in Sicily with various ſucceſs, the Ro⯑mans, as well as their enemies, having ſome⯑times the worſt of the campaign. But the con⯑duct of both nations, during the continuance of this war, was manifeſtly different. The Carthaginians appeared always murmuring againſt their generals and admirals, and ſome⯑times puniſhed them with death, for want of ſucceſs. The Romans went on ſtill contented and perſevering, and ſeemingly as eaſy under a defeat, as happy when victorious. Their chief ſucceſſes during the latter part of the war in Sicily, were owing to the conduct and courage of their conſul Regulus, who ſubdued the iſlands Lippara and that of Melita, ſo celebrated at this day for being the reſidence of the knights of Malta. The city of Agrigentum in Sicily, [237] and of Alberia in Corſica, were alſo attached to the conqueſts of Rome.

But theſe trifling ſucceſſes were by no means ſufficient to gratify the ſanguine expectations of the people; for though the Carthaginians were ſometimes defeated even at ſea, yet they ſtill continued moſt powerful there, and ſent in ſup⯑plies to the iſland at pleaſure. The conqueſt therefore of Sicily, was only to be obtained by humbling the power of Carthage at home. For this reaſon, the ſenate reſolved to carry the war into Africa itſelf, and accordingly they ſent Re⯑gulus and Manlius, with a fleet of three hundred ſail, to make the invaſion. Regulus was reck⯑oned the moſt conſummate warrior, that Rome could then produce: he was a profeſſed exam⯑ple of frugal ſeverity, but leſs auſtere to others than to himſelf; he only reprehended thoſe faults, which he would have died rather than have committed: his patriotiſm was ſtill greater than his temperance; all the private paſſions ſeemed extinguiſhed in him, or they were all ſwallowed up in one great ruling affection, the love of his country. The two generals ſet ſail with their fleet, which was the greateſt that had ever yet left an Italian port, carrying an hundred and forty thouſand men. They were met by the Carthaginians, with a fleet as powerful, and men better uſed to the ſea. While the fight continued, rather between the ſhips than the [238] men, at a diſtance, the Carthaginians ſeemed ſucceſsful; but when the Romans came to grapple with them, the difference between a mercenary army, and one that fought for fame, was apparent. The reſolution of the Romans was crowned with ſucceſs; the enemies fleet were diſperſed, and fifty-four of their veſſels taken. The conſequence of this victory was an immediate deſcent upon the coaſts of Africa, and the capture of the city Clupea, together with twenty thouſand men who were made priſoners of war.

The ſenate being informed of theſe great ſucceſſes, and applied to for freſh inſtructions▪ commanded Manlius back to Italy, in orde [...] to ſuperintend the Sicilian war, and directed that Regulus ſhould continue in Africa, to proſecute his victories there, but as his conſul⯑ſhip was expiring, they continued him their general under the title of Proconſul. Happy in the approbation of his country, Regulu [...] continued his ſucceſſes, and led his forces along the banks of the river Bagrada. Here, whil [...] he was waiting for the approach of the Car⯑thaginians, a ſerpent of enormous ſize attacke [...] his men as they went for water, and ſeemed a [...] if reſolved to guard the banks of the river. I [...] was an hundred and twenty feet long, wit [...] ſcales impenetrable to any weapon. Some o [...] the boldeſt troops at firſt went up to oppoſe it [...] [239] fury, but they ſoon fell victims to their raſh⯑neſs, being either killed by its devouring jaws, or cruſhed to pieces by the windings of its tail. The poiſonous vapour that iſſued from it, made it ſtill more formidable, and the men were ſo much terrified at its appearance, that they aſſert⯑ed, they would much more joyfully have faced the whole Carthaginian army. For ſome time it ſeemed uncertain which ſhould remain maſters of the river, as from the hardneſs of its ſcales, no ordinary efforts could drive it away. At laſt, Regulus was obliged to make uſe of the ma⯑chines employed in battering down the walls of cities. Notwithſtanding, the ſerpent, for a long time, withſtood all his efforts, and de⯑ſtroyed numbers of his men; but at length, a very large ſtone which was flung from an en⯑gine, happened to break its ſpine, and deſtroyed its motion: by theſe means the ſoldiers ſur⯑rounded and killed it. Regulus, not leſs pleaſed with his victory than if he had gained a battle, ordered its ſkin to be ſent to Rome, where it continued to be ſeen till the times of Pliny.

Mean while, the Carthaginians finding the Romans proceeding towards their very capital, brought out a conſiderable army to oppoſe them. A battle enſued, in which Carthage was once more defeated, and ſome of its beſt troops were cut off. This freſh victory contributed to throw them into the utmoſt deſpair; more [240] than eighty of their towns ſubmitted to the Romans. The Numidians, their ancient allies, roſe againſt them at the ſame time, and com⯑bined to ravage the country. The peaſants who fled on every ſide, flocked into Carthage, as to the only place of refuge, and brought with them only miſery and famine. In this diſtreſs, the Carthaginians, deſtitute of generals at home who had abilities to oppoſe the conqueror, were obliged to ſend to Lacedemon, offering the command of their armies to Xantippus, a com⯑mander of great experience, who undertook to conduct them. They, at the ſame time, diſ⯑patched ſome of the principal men of the ſtate to Regulus to beg a peace. The Roman ge⯑neral had long wiſhed to terminate the war, and go back to his native country. He had even ſent to the ſenate ſome time before, de⯑manding a ſucceſſor, and leave to return, in conſequence of an account he had received, in⯑forming him, that his ſteward who cultivated his eſtate, which conſiſted but of ſeven acres, was dead, and that his ſervant had ſtolen all the inſtruments of huſbandry that were uſed in its cultivation. He informed the ſenate, that while he was leading on the armies of the ſtate, his wife and children were in danger of wanting bread; and that his little domeſtic affairs re⯑quired his preſence at home. The ſenate upon this, ordered a ſufficient maintenance for his [241] wife and children; furniſhed his eſtate with proper inſtruments of huſbandry, at the public expence, and gave him orders to continue at the head of the army. When the Carthaginians therefore ſent propoſals of peace, he was very much inclined to come to treaty; but in ſome meaſure, conſidering himſelf as maſter of Car⯑thage, he thought it was his duty to dictate the terms. Theſe were, that Carthage ſhould give up all the cities they were poſſeſſed of in Sicily and Sardinia; that they ſhould deliver up all their priſoners without reward, and at the ſame time, ranſom thoſe that were made of their own. Theſe and ſome other conditions of the ſame nature were offered, but the Carthaginians thinking them too rigid, the treaty broke off, and both ſides prepared for war.

Xantippus, the Lacedemonian general, was arrived by this time, and gave the magiſtrates proper inſtructions for levying their men: he aſſured them, that their armies were hitherto overthrown, not by the ſtrength of the enemy, but the ignorance of their own generals: he therefore only required a ready obedience to his orders, and aſſured them of an eaſy victory. The whole city ſeemed once more revived from deſpondence, by the exhortations of a ſingle ſtranger, and ſoon, from hope, grew into confi⯑dence. This was the ſpirit the Grecian general wiſhed to excite in them, ſo that when he [242] ſaw them thus ripe for the engagement, he joy⯑fully took the field. The forces on both ſides were but few; the Carthaginian army conſiſt⯑ing only of twelve thouſand foot, and four thouſand horſe; thoſe of the Romans, of about the ſame, or rather a ſuperior number. The firſt circumſtance which alarmed Regulus, was to find the enemy alter their plan of encamp⯑ment, and make a new choice of their ground. They had hitherto choſen the moſt woody and unequal places, where their cavalry were em⯑barraſſed, and their elephants utterly unſervice⯑able. They now continually kept in the open country, and ſo harraſſed the Roman army, that at length, Regulus was obliged to deſcend into the plain, and croſs the river to give them bat⯑tle. The Lacedemonian made the moſt ſkill⯑ful diſpoſition of his forces; he placed his ca⯑valry in the wings, he diſpoſed the elephants at proper intervals, behind the line of heavy⯑armed infantry, and bringing up the light-arm⯑ed troops before, he ordered them to retire through the line of infantry, after they had diſ⯑charged their weapons. This was a moſt maſ⯑terly diſpoſition, and ſuch as was uſeful to the Romans in ſucceeding engagements, though it was fatal to them in this. For now both ar⯑mies engaging, after a long and obſtinate reſiſt⯑ance, the Romans were overthrown with dread⯑ful ſlaughter, the greateſt part of their army [243] being deſtroyed, and Regulus himſelf taken priſoner. A victory ſo great and unexpected, filled the ſtreets of Carthage with ungovernable joy; they could never ſufficiently ſatisfy them⯑ſelves with gazing on the conqueror, though he was but ſmall of ſtature, and of a very mean appearance. But this diſpoſition was but of ſhort continuance, for ſoon their admiration was turned into envy. They could not bear to owe to a ſtranger that ſafety, which they wanted abilities and virtue to procure for themſelves. Xantippus however, who knew their malignity, and who never much prided himſelf upon their barbarous praiſe, was deſirous of leſſening their malevolence, by removing the cauſe: he there⯑fore requeſted permiſſion to return home, and deſired a ſhip for that purpoſe. Their ingrati⯑tude on this occaſion, if hiſtorians ſay true, was even more ſhocking than their former an⯑tipathy, for pretending to furniſh him with the moſt honourable conveyance, the mariners had private orders to throw him and his companions overboard, leſt the honour of obtainnig ſo great a victory ſhould be taken from them, to be aſcribed to a ſtranger.

However this may be, the affairs of the Car⯑thaginians, for ſome time, went on to improve, while thoſe of Rome ſeemed to be declining. The remains of the Roman army were beſieged in Clupea, a city on the coaſts of Africa, which Regulus had taken, and though it was for a [244] while relieved by means of a naval victory, under the conduct of Aemilius Paulus; yet they were obliged to evacuate the place. Soon after the Ro⯑mans loſt their whole fleet in a ſtorm; and Agri⯑gentum, their principal town in Sicily, was taken by Karthalo, the Carthaginian general. The Ro⯑mans, not eaſily to be deterred, undertook to build a new fleet, which alſo ſhared the fate of the former: the mariners as yet unacquainted with the Mediterranean ſhores, drove it upon quickſands; and ſoon after, the greateſt part periſhed in a ſtorm. Thus diſtreſſed in every naval attempt, they, for a while, gave up all hopes of rivalling the Carthaginians at ſea, and placed all their hopes in the conqueſt of Sicily, which they in a great meaſure effected. Mean time, the Carthaginians being now more ſucceſsful than when they had formerly made propoſals of peace, were deſirous of a new trea⯑ty, hoping to have better terms than thoſe in⯑ſiſted upon before. They therefore reſolved to ſend to Rome to negotiate this buſineſs, or at leaſt to procure an exchange of priſoners. For this purpoſe they ſuppoſed, that Regulus, whom they had now for four years kept in a dungeon confined and chained, would be a proper ſolli⯑citor. It was expected, that being wearied with impriſonment and bondage, he would gladly endeavour to perſuade his countrymen to a diſcontinuance of the war, which only prolong⯑ed [245] his captivity. He was accordingly ſent with their ambaſſadors to Rome, but with a promiſe previouſly exacted from him, to return in caſe of being unſucceſsful. He was even given to underſtand, that his life depended upon the ſucceſs of the expedition.

When this old general, together with the am⯑baſſadors of Carthage, approached Rome, num⯑bers of his friends came out to meet and congra⯑tulate his return. Their acclamations reſounded through the city, but Regulus refuſed with ſet⯑tled melancholy to enter the gates. It was in vain that he was entreated on every ſide to viſit once more his little dwelling, and ſhare in that joy which his return had inſpired. He perſiſted in ſaying, that he was now but a ſlave belonging to the Carthaginians, and unfit to partake in the liberal honours of his country. The ſenate aſſembling without the walls, as uſual, to give audience to the enemies ambaſſadors, Regulus opened his commiſſion as he had been directed by the Carthaginian council, and their ambaſ⯑ſadors ſeconded his propoſals. The ſenate were, by this time, themſelves weary of a war, which had been protracted above eight years, and were no way diſinclinable to a peace. It ſeemed the general opinion, that the enmity between the two ſtates had continued too long, and that no terms ſhould be refuſed, which would not only give reſt to the two nations, but liberty to an [246] old general, whom the people reverenced and loved. It only remained for Regulus himſelf to give his opinion, who, when it came to his turn to ſpeak, to the ſurprize of all the world, gave his voice for continuing the war. He aſ⯑ſured the ſenate, that the Carthaginian reſources were now almoſt exhauſted; their populace harraſſed out with fatigues, and their nobles with contention: that all their beſt generals were priſoners with the Romans, while Car⯑thage had none but the refuſe of the Roman army: that not only the intereſt of Rome, but its honour alſo was concerned in continuing the war, for their anceſtors had never made peace till they were victorious. So unexpected an ad⯑vice not a little diſturbed the ſenate; they ſaw the juſtice of his opinion, but they alſo ſaw the dangers he incurred by giving it: they ſeemed entirely ſatisfied of the expediency of prolong⯑ing the war; their only obſtacle was how to ſecure the ſafety of him, who had adviſed its continuance: they pitied, as well as admired a man who had uſed ſuch eloquence againſt his private intereſt, and could not conclude upon a meaſure which was to terminate in his ruin. Regulus however, ſoon relieved their embarraſ⯑ment by breaking off the treaty, and riſing in order to return to his bonds and confinement. It was in vain that the ſenate and all his deareſt friends entreated his ſtay, he ſtill repreſſed their [247] ſolicitations. Maria his wife, with her little children, filled the city with her lamentations, and vainly entreated to be permitted to ſee him: he ſtill obſtinately perſiſted in keeping his promiſe, and though he was ſufficiently appriz⯑ed of the tortures that awaited his return, with⯑out embracing his family, or taking leave of his friends, he departed with the ambaſſadors for Carthage. Nothing could equal the fury and the diſappointment of the Carthaginians, when they were informed by their ambaſſadors, of Regulus, inſtead of haſtening a peace, having given his opinion for continuing the war. Firſt, his eyelids were cut off, and then he was re⯑manded to priſon. He was, after ſome days, brought out and expoſed with his face oppoſite the burning ſun. At laſt, when malice was fatigued with ſtudying all the arts of torture, he was put into a barrel ſtuck full of nails that pointed inwards, and in this painful poſition he continued till he died.

Both ſides now took up arms with more than former animoſity. The Romans, who were in⯑flexible in their purpoſes, although they had ſo many times been wrecked at ſea, and had loſt ſuch numbers of their braveſt troops there, once more fitted out a fleet, and again bid defiance to Carthage. It ſeemed however, as if fortune was reſolved to drive them from this unſtable element, for by the bad conduct [248] of Claudius Pulcher their conſul, and by other various diſaſters, their fleet was deſtroyed like all the former, and the Romans ſeemed drained of every reſource to furniſh out a new one. In con⯑ſequence of this, they were obliged to abſtain for ſeven years from all naval preparations. But their ſpirit was not to be broken, they yet again reſolved to build another fleet, and to try their wayward fortune in forming a naval power. At length, their perſeverance was crowned with ſucceſs, one victory followed on the back of another. Fabius Buteo the conſul ſhewed them the way, by defeating a large ſquadron of the enemies ſhips; but Lutatius Catulus gained a victory ſtill more complete, in which the power of Carthage ſeemed totally deſtroyed at ſea, by the loſs of an hundred and twenty ſhips, accord⯑ing to the ſmalleſt computation. This loſs brought them to ſue for peace, which Rome thought proper to grant; but ſtill inflexible in its demands, exacted the ſame conditions which Regulus had formerly offered at the gates of Carthage. Theſe were, that the Carthaginians ſhould lay down a thouſand talents of ſilver, to defray the charge of the war; and ſhould pay two thouſand, two hundred more, in ten years time: that they ſhould quit Sicily, with all ſuch iſlands as they poſſeſſed near it: that they ſhould never make war againſt the allies of Rome, or come with any veſſels [249] of war within the Roman dominions: and laſtly, that all their priſoners and deſerters ſhould be delivered up without ranſom; to theſe hard conditions, the Carthaginians, now exhauſted, readily ſubſcribed, and thus ended the firſt Punic war, which had laſted twenty⯑four U. C. 513 years, and in ſome meaſure, had drained both nations of every reſource to begin a-new.

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

THE war being ended between the Cartha⯑ginians and Romans, a profound peace enſued, and in about ſix years after, the temple of Ja⯑nus was ſhut for the ſecond time, ſince the foundation of the city. Rome being thus in friendſhip with all nations, had an opportunity of turning to the arts of peace: they now be⯑gan to have a reliſh for poetry, the firſt liberal art which riſes in every civilized nation, and the firſt alſo that decays. Hitherto they had been entertained only with the rude drolleries of their loweſt buffoons: they had ſports called Feſcen⯑nini, in which a few debauched actors made their own parts, while raillery and ſmut ſupplied the [250] place of humour. To theſe a compoſition of a higher kind ſucceeded, which they called ſatire; which was a kind of dramatic poem, in which the characters of the great were particularly pointed out, and made an object of deriſion to the vul⯑gar. After theſe, came tragedy and comedy, which were borrowed from the Greeks, and in⯑deed, the firſt dramatic poet of Rome, whoſe U. C. 514 name was Livius Andronicus, was by birth a Grecian. The inſtant theſe finer kinds of com⯑poſition appeared, this great people rejected their former impurities with diſdain. From thenceforward they laboured upon the Grecian model, and though they were never able to ri⯑val their maſters in dramatic compoſition, they ſoon ſurpaſſed them in many of the more ſoothing kinds of poetry. Elegaic, paſtoral, and didactic compoſitions, began to aſſume new beauties in the Roman language; and ſatire, not that rude kind of dialogue already men⯑t oned, but a nobler ſort, invented by Lucillius, was all their own.

While they were thus admitting the arts of peace, they were not unmindful of making freſh preparations for war; all intervals of eaſe ſeemed rather to give freſh vigour for new de⯑ſigns, than to relax their former intrepidity. The Illyrians were the firſt people upon whom they tried their ſtrength, after ſome continuance of peace. That nation, which had long plundered [251] the merchants of the Mediterranean with im⯑punity, happened to make deprad [...]ions upon ſome of the trading ſubjects of Rome. This being complained of to Teuta, the queen of the country, ſhe, inſtead of granting redreſs, ordered the ambaſſador that was ſent to demand reſtitution, to be murdered. A war enſued, in which the Romans were victorious. Moſt of the Illyric towns were ſurrendered to the con⯑ſuls, and a peace at laſt concluded, by which the greateſt part of the country was ceded to Rome; a yearly tribute exacted for the reſt, and a prohibition added, that the Illyrians ſhould not ſail beyond the river Liſſus, with more than two barks, and thoſe unarmed.

The Gauls were the next people that incur⯑red the diſpleaſure of the Romans. Suppoſing a time of peace, when the armies were diſband⯑ed, a proper ſeaſon for new irruptions: this bar⯑barous people inviting freſh forces from beyond the Alps, and entering Etruria, waſted all with fire and ſword, till they came within about three days journey of Rome. A praetor and a conſul were ſent to oppoſe them, who, now in⯑ſtructed in the improved arts of war, were en⯑abled to ſurround the Gauls, who ſtill retained their primaeval barbarity. It was in vain that thoſe hardy troops, who had nothing but their cou⯑rage to protect them, formed two fronts to op⯑poſe their adverſaries; their naked bodies and [252] undiſciplined forces were unable to withſtand the ſhock of an enemy completely armed, and ſkilled in military evolutions. A miſerable ſlaughter enſued, in which forty thouſand were killed, and ten thouſand taken priſoners. This victory was followed by another gained over them by Marcellus, in which he killed Virido⯑marus their king, with his own hand, and gained the third royal ſpoils that were yet ob⯑tained at Rome. Theſe conqueſts forced them to beg a peace, the conditions of which ſerved greatly to enlarge the empire. Thus the Ro⯑mans went on with ſucceſs; they had now to⯑tally recovered their former loſſes, and only wanted an enemy worthy of their arms, to be⯑gin a new war.

An occaſion ſoon offered to renew their mi⯑litary aims. The Carthaginians, who only made a peace becauſe they were no longer able to continue the war, took the earlieſt opportunity of breaking the treaty: they beſieged Sagun⯑tum, a city of Spain, which had been in alli⯑ance with Rome, and though deſired to deſiſt, proſecuted their operations with vigour. Am⯑baſſadors were ſent, in conſequence, from Rome to Carthage, complaining of the infraction of their articles, and requiring, that Hannibal the Carthaginian general, who had adviſed this meaſure, ſhould be delivered up. This demand being refuſed, the ambaſſadors began to perceive [253] their inclinations for a rupture, and holding out the ſkirt of his robe, as was the cuſtom, told the Carthaginian miniſtry, that he brought them peace or war, of which they might chuſe. They deſired him to deliver which he thought pro⯑per; to which he returned, ‘"Then let it be war,"’ and thus leaving the aſſembly, returned to Rome.

War being thus again declared between theſe U. C. 536 great rival powers, the Carthaginians truſted the management of it, on their ſide, to Hannibal, the ſon of Amilcar, their former general. Hannibal had been made the ſworn foe of Rome, almoſt from his infancy; for while yet very young, his father brought him before the altar, and obliged him to take an oath, never to be in friendſhip with the Ro⯑mans, nor deſiſt from oppoſing their power, until he or they ſhould be no more. On his firſt appearance in the field, he reconciled, in his own perſon, the moſt juſt method of com⯑manding, with the moſt perfect obedience to his ſuperiors. Thus he was equally beloved by his generals and the troops he was appointed to lead. He was poſſeſt of the greateſt courage in oppoſing danger, and the greateſt preſence of mind in retiring from it. No fatigue was able to ſubdue his body, or break his ſpirit: equally patient of heat and cold, he only took ſuſte⯑nance to content nature, and not to delight his [254] appetite. His ſeaſons for repoſe or labour were never marked, but he was ever ready when dif⯑ficulties, or his country demanded his aid. He was frequently found ſtretched on the ground among his centinels, covered only with a watch⯑coat. His dreſs differed in nothing from the moſt ordinary man of his army, except that he affected peculiar elegance in his horſes and ar⯑mour. He was the beſt horſeman, and the ſwifteſt runner of his time. He was ever the foremoſt to engage, and the laſt to retreat; he was ever prudent in his deſigns, which were ex⯑tenſive; and ever fertile in expedients to perplex his enemies, or to reſcue himſelf from hardſhips. He was experienced, ſagacious, provident, and bold. Such were the admirable qualities of this inimitable ſoldier, who is generally allowed the greateſt general of all antiquity; but on the other hand, he was cruel and faithleſs, without honour, without religion, and yet ſo deceitful, as to aſſume the appearance of them all: yet after all we muſt remember, that it is his enemies who gave him this character. From ſuch a ſoldier and politician the Carthaginians formed the greateſt expectations, and his taking Saguntum ſhortly after, confirmed them in their opinion of his abilities. But he ſoon gave proofs of a much more extenſive genius than they could have conceived; for, having over⯑run all Spain, and levied a large army of va⯑rious [255] languages and nations, he reſolved to carry the war into Italy, as the Romans had be⯑fore carried it into the dominions of Carthage. For this purpoſe, leaving Hanno with a ſuffi⯑cient force to guard his conqueſts in Spain, he croſſed the Pyrenean mountains into Gaul, with an army of fifty thouſand foot and nine thou⯑ſand horſe. He quickly traverſed that country, which was then wild, extenſive, and filled with inimical nations. In vain its foreſts and rivers appeared to intimidate him; the Rhone with its rapid current, and its banks covered with enemies, or the Dura branched out into num⯑berleſs channels oppoſed his way; he paſſed them all with perſeverance, and in ten days arrived at the foot of the Alps, over which he was to explore a new paſſage into Italy. It was now in the midſt of winter, when this aſtoniſhing project was un⯑dertaken; the ſeaſon added new horrors to a ſcene, that nature had already crowded with ob⯑jects of diſmay. The prodigious height and tre⯑mendous ſteepneſs of the mountains, capped with ſnow, the rude cottages that ſeemed to hang upon the ſides of the precipices, the cattle, and even the wild beaſts themſelves ſtiff with cold, or deſperate with famine: the peo⯑ple barbarous and fierce, dreſſed in ſkins, with long ſhaggy hair, preſented a picture that im⯑preſſed the beholders with aſtoniſhment and ter⯑ror. But nothing was capable of ſubduing the [256] courage of the Carthaginian general; after hav⯑ing harrangued his army, he undertook to lead them up the ſides of the mountain, aſſuring his ſoldiers, that they were now ſcaling, not the walls of Italy, but of Rome.

The ſoldiers in this march had not vain fears alone to combat with, but numberleſs and un⯑foreſeen calamities. The intenſeneſs of the cold, the height of the precipices, the ſmoothneſs of the ice, but above all, the oppoſition of the inhabitants, who aſſailed them from above, and rolled down huge rocks upon them in their march, all contributed to diſpirit the army. At length, after nine days painful march through theſe untrodden paths, Hannibal gained the top of the mountains, where he rejoiced his ſol⯑diers, by ſhewing them the charming and fer⯑tile vales of Italy, which were ſtretched out be⯑neath. After two days reſpite, he next pre⯑pared to deſcend, and this was found a work of more danger, even than the former. Pro⯑digious quantities of ſnow having lately f [...]llen, as many were ſwallowed up in that, as had be⯑fore been deſtroyed by the enemy. Every new advance ſeemed but to encreaſe the danger▪ till at laſt, he came to the verge of a preci⯑pice above three hundred yards perpendicular, which ſeemed utterly unpaſſable. It was then that deſpair appeared in every face but Han⯑nibal's, but he ſtill remained unſhaken: his firſt [257] effort was to endeavour by taking a circuit, to find a more commodious paſſage, but finding this only encreaſe his difficulty, he reſolved to undertake levelling the rock. For this purpoſe, great numbers of large trees were felled, and a mighty pile made againſt it and ſet on fire. The rock being thus heated, ſays Livy, was ſoftened by vinegar, and a paſſage opened through which the whole army might ſafely paſs. This ſeemed to be the end of the diffi⯑culties of this march, for as he deſcended, the vallies between the mountains became more fertile, ſo that the cattle found paſture, and the ſoldiers had time to repoſe. Thus, at the end of fifteen days ſpent in croſſing the Alps, Hannibal found himſelf in the plains of Italy, with about half his army remaining, the reſt having died, or being cut off in their march.

As ſoon as it was known at Rome, tha [...] Hannibal, at the head of an immenſe army. was croſſing the Alps, in order to invade their dominions, the ſenate ſent Scipio to oppoſe him, as a general on whom they placed great dependence. Scipio being deſirous of making his principal effort, while Hannibal's army was not yet recovered from the fatigues of their march, brought up his forces, and attacked him near Ticinium. The engagement was for ſome time doubtful, but a party of Numidian horſe wheeling round, attacked the Romans in [258] the rear, and at laſt obliged them to retreat with conſiderable loſs. The conſul was wound⯑ed in the beginning of the fight, and would have fallen into the hands of the enemy, had not his ſon Scipio, afterwards called Africanus, oppoſed himſelf to the ſnock of the engage⯑ment, and ſaved his father's life, at the hazard of his own. Hannibal being thus victorious, took the moſt prudent precautions to encreaſe his army, giving orders to Mago, his general of the cavalry, that when he ravaged the country round, always to ſpare the poſſeſſions of the Gauls, while his depredations were permitted upon thoſe of Rome. This ſo pleaſed that ſimple people, that they declared for him in great numbers, and flocked to his ſtandard with alacrity.

Soon after this defeat, Sempronius, the other conſul, was reſolved to repair the injury ſuſtain⯑ed by his colleague, and ſeeing the continual defection of the Gauls, going off to encreaſe the ſtrength of the Punic army, he determined to give battle the firſt opportunity. Hannibal was not long in delaying his expectations, and both armies met upon the banks of the river Trebia. The Carthaginian general being ap⯑prized of the Roman impetuoſity, of which be always availed himſelf in almoſt every engage⯑ment, had ſent off a body of a thouſand horſe, each with a foot-ſoldier behind him, acroſs the ri⯑ver, [259] to ravage the enemies country, and pro⯑voke them to engage. The Romans quickly routed this force, who ſeeming to be defeated, took the river, and were as eagerly purſued by the conſul. It was not however, till his army was got upon the oppoſite bank, that he per⯑ceived himſelf half conquered already, his men being fatigued by wading up to the armpits, and quite benumbed by the intenſe coldneſs of the water. But it was now too late to retire, for Hannibal came pouring down his forces, freſh and vigorous, ſo that the battle ſoon be⯑came general. The courage of the Romans for a while withſtood every diſadvantage, and kept the victory doubtful, but they ſoon found them⯑ſelves attacked alſo in the rear by a party of horſe, which the Carthaginian general had laid in ambuſh, to be ready on this occaſion. At length, a total rout enſued; twenty-ſix thouſand of the Romans were either killed by the enemy or drowned in attempting to repaſs the river. A body of ten thouſand men were all that ſurviv⯑ed, who finding themſelves encloſed on every ſide, broke deſperately through the enemies ranks, and fought retreating, till they found ſhelter in the city of Placentia.

The loſs of theſe two battles only ſerved to encreaſe the caution of Hannibal and the vigi⯑lance of Rome. Preparations for the enſuing campaign were carried on with greater vigour [260] than before, and the Carthaginian general finding himſelf in a condition to change the feat of the war, reſolved to approach Rome, by marching into Etruria. There were two ways for effecting his march thither; one, more tedious, but ſecure; the other, which was ſhorter, led through the marſhes, cauſed by the overflowing of the river Arno. All the former fatigues of the Carthaginian army were nothing, compared to their ſuffering [...] here. They were forced to march three days and nights ſucceſſively, up to the knees in water, without ſleep or without reſt; the hoofs of the horſes came off in their paſſage, while the beaſts of burthen that carried the baggage, unable to ſupport the fatigue, were left dead in the mud. Hannibal himſelf riding upon an elephant, which was the only one left alive, felt all the compli⯑cated diſtreſs of his own ſituation, and that of his army. His health had been impaired in the preceding ſpring, and having then an inflamma⯑tion in his eyes, he, by his preſent fatigues, loſt one of them entirely. At laſt however, he ar⯑rived upon dry ground, where he was informed, that Flamminius the conſul was encamped near Aricia, waiting the arrival of the other conſul with reinforcements from Rome. One of Han⯑nibal's chief excellencies in war, was the care he took to inform himſelf of the temper and diſpo⯑ſition of the generals who oppoſed him, and find⯑ing that Flamminius was raſh and overbearing, [261] ſwoln with his former ſucceſſes, and confident of the future, he reſolved to bring him to an engagement before his colleague could come up. Seeming therefore to take no notice of his army, that lay in the direct road towards Rome, he left it on one ſide, and marching onward, as if to beſiege the capital itſelf, he ravaged the whole country round in a terrible manner, with fire and ſword. Flamminius, as was expected, could not tamely bear to ſee an inſulting enemy lay⯑ing every thing waſte before him, but burned for the engagement. It was in vain, that he was adviſed by the Senate, and all about him, to uſe caution, and not to let the enemies inſults provoke him to an unequal combat. He im⯑mediately ordered his troops to march, his friends foreboding their future danger, while the ſoldiers went rejoicing in the courage of their general, and indulging their hopes, rather than conſidering the reaſons they had for hoping. Hannibal was with his army, at the time when Flamminius came out to engage him, at the lake of Thraſimene, near to which was a chain of mountains, and between theſe and the lake, a narrow paſſage leading to a valley that was emboſomed in hills. It was upon theſe hills that he diſpoſed his beſt troops, and it was into this valley that Flamminius led his men to attack him. A diſpoſition every way ſo favourable for the Carthaginians, was alſo aſſiſted by [262] accident, for a miſt riſing from the lake, kept the Romans from ſeeing their enemies, while the army upon the mountains, being above its influence, ſaw the whole diſpoſition of their op⯑ponents. The fortune of the day was ſuch as might be expected from the conduct of the two generals; the Roman army was broken, and ſlaughtered, almoſt before they could per⯑ceive the enemy that deſtroyed them. About fifteen thouſand Romans fell in the valley, and ſix thouſand more were obliged to yield them⯑ſelves priſoners of war. In this general car⯑nage, the unfortunate Flamminius did all that courage could inſpire, to ſave his army; where⯑ever the enemy was moſt ſucceſsful, he flew with a choſen body of his attendants to repreſs them; at laſt, deſpairing of victory, and un⯑willing to ſurvive a defeat, he flung himſelf alone into the midſt of the enemy, and was killed by a Gauliſh horſeman, who ſtruck him through the body with a blow of his lance. Hannibal, after the battle, kept the Roman priſoners, but civilly diſmiſſed thoſe of the La⯑tins, and willing to give the conſul an honour⯑able interment, he ſought his body amongſt the heaps of ſlain, but it could not be found.

Upon the news of this defeat at Rome, after the general conſternation was allayed, the ſenate, upon mature deliberation, reſolved to elect a com⯑mander with abſolute authority, in whom they [263] might repoſe their laſt and greateſt expectations. Their choice fell upon Fabius Maximus, a man of great courage, but with a happy mixture of caution; leſs enraptured with the glare of victory, than the conſciouſneſs of deſerv⯑ing it. This old commander, thus inveſted with the ſupreme dignity, ſet forward with what preparations he was able to make, but with no intentions of fighting an enemy, whom he knew more powerful than himſelf. He had long before ſetting out laid a plan by which to proceed, and to that he ſtrictly adhered during all the enſuing campaigns. He was apprized that the only way to humble the Carthaginians at ſuch a diſtance from home, was rather by har⯑raſſing them than by fighting. For this purpoſe, he always encamped upon the higheſt grounds, inacceſſible to the enemies cavalry. Whenever they moved he moved, watched their motions ſtraightened their quarters, and cut off their proviſions. It was in vain that Hannibal uſed every ſtratagem to bring him to a battle; the cautious Roman, thence ſurnamed Cunctator, ſtill kept aloof, contented with ſeeing his enemy in ſome meaſure defeated by delay. Hanni⯑bal, now therefore, perceiving that his adver⯑ſaries had altered their plan of operations, tried his uſual arts to make Fabius appear deſpicable to his own army. He ſometimes therefore, braved him in his camp, he ſometimes waſted [264] the country round him, talked of his abilities with contempt, and in all his excurſions, ſpared the poſſeſſions of Fabius, while thoſe of the other Romans were plundered without mercy. Theſe arts in ſome meaſure ſucceeded: the Ro⯑mans began to ſuſpect their general, either of cowardice or treachery, and a ſlight action that enſued a little after, gave ſtrength to their ſuſ⯑picions. For Hannibal deſigning to march, for the convenience of forage, to a place called Caſſinum, he was, by a miſtake of his guide, conducted towards Caſſilinum, where he found himſelf in a cloſe country, hemmed in on every ſide. However, willing to draw all the advan⯑tages he was able from his ſituation, he ordered his cavalry to pillage the country round, which the Roman army, that ſtill kept him in view, beheld from a neighbouring hill. Hannibal knew that his depredations would excite them to a deſire of revenge; but it was in vain they cried out to their phlegmatic general, to lead them down upon the enemy. Fabius ſtill kept his poſt, contrary to all the entreaties of his men, and even the expoſtulations of Minutius, his maſter of the horſe. It was now therefore found, that the prudent Roman began to prac⯑tiſe Hannibal's own ſtratagems againſt himſelf: he had now encloſed him among mountains, where it was impoſſible to winter, and yet, from which, it was almoſt impracticable to extricate [265] his army without imminent danger. In this ex⯑igence, nothing but one of thoſe ſtratagems of war, which fall to the lot of great abilities only to invent, could ſave him. Hannibal's amazing fertility in expedients, ſuggeſted one at this time which was ſucceſsful: he ordered a num⯑ber of ſmall faggots and lighted torches to be tied to the horns of two thouſand oxen, that he had in his camp, and that they ſhould be driven towards the enemy. Theſe toſſing their heads, and running up the ſides of the mountains, ſeemed to fill the whole neighbour⯑ing foreſt with fire, while the centinels that were placed to guard the approaches of the mountain, ſeeing ſuch a number of flames ad⯑vancing towards their poſts, fled in conſterna⯑tion, ſuppoſing the whole body of the enemy was in arms to overwhelm them. By this ſtra⯑tagem, Hannibal drew off his army, and eſcap⯑ed through the defiles that led beneath the hills, though with conſiderable damage to his rear. Although Fabius had conducted himſelf in this expedition with all the prudence and conduct of the moſt conſummate general, he could not prevent the murmurs of his army, who now began to tax his ignorance in war, as they had formerly impeached his valour and fidelity.

Fabius, no way ſollicitous to quiet the mur⯑murs, either of his army or of the citizens them⯑ſelves, returned to Rome, in order to raiſe mo⯑ney [266] to ranſom ſome Roman priſoners, whom Hannibal offered to releaſe: but in the mean time, he gave his inſtructions to Minucius, his maſter of the horſe, to abſtain from giving the enemy battle, upon any occaſion whatſoever. Minucius however, who now began to have the ſame opinion of the dictator, that the reſt of the ſoldiers entertained of him, little regarded his inſtructions, but venturing out againſt the Carthaginians, ſkirmiſhed with ſuch ſucceſs, that by univerſal conſent, was made equal in power to the dictator, and both generals were appointed to command, each his own part of the army. Being thus poſſeſſed of equal power, Minucius began by altering the former con⯑duct of Fabius. From keeping on the tops of the mountains, he now drew down his part of the army into the plain, and offered the enemy battle. This was the diſpoſition that Hannibal had long wiſhed for, and pre⯑tending to be very earneſt in taking poſſeſ⯑ſion of an hill which commanded the camp of the Romans, he drew the eyes of all to that quarter, while he formed an ambuſcade on the other ſide, with orders to ſally forth in the midſt of the engagement. The Romans ac⯑cordingly made moſt a vigorous attack upon the Carthaginians, who had taken poſſeſſion of the hill, while new reinforcements were ſent from either army. At laſt, Minucius drew out his [267] legions, and the engagement became general. It was then that the ſuperior conduct of the Carthaginian commander was diſcovered, for the men who were placed in ambuſh ſallying forth upon the rear, began to throw the whole Roman army into confuſion, and nothing leſs than a total defeat threatened to enſue. In the mean time, Fabius, who was returned from Rome, after ſolliciting an exchange of priſon⯑ers, and after ſelling all his little patrimony, to raiſe a ſum which he was denied by the ſenate, to pay their ranſom, came in while Mi⯑nucius was in this deſperate ſituation. He did not long heſitate upon the courſe he ſhould purſue, but falling upon the Carthaginians, at once ſtopt the flight of the Romans, and ob⯑ſtructed the enemies purſuit. Hannibal now perceived, that the cloud which had ſo long hovered upon the mountains, at laſt broke upon him in a ſtorm; he was obliged to command a retreat, while Minucius was ſo convinced of his former raſhneſs, that he confeſſed his error to Fabius, whom he now called his father, and renouncing his new power, again ſubjected his office freely to the dictatorſhip.

Soon after however, Fabius was obliged to lay down his office, his time being expired, and a violent conteſt enſued at Rome, about the proper perſons to be elected to the conſulſhip. The patricians and the plebeians, as uſual, taking [268] oppoſite ſides, at laſt the multitude prevailed, and Terentius Varro was choſen alone, by the majority of voices in the aſſembly of the people. This Te⯑rentius Varro was a man ſprung from the dregs of the people, and with nothing but his confidence and riches to recommend him. He had long aſ⯑pired at the higheſt offices of the ſtate: being ignorant, vain, boaſtful, and confident, but fond of popular applauſe, and ſeeking it by all the arts of meanneſs and adulation. With him was joined Aemilius Paulus, of a diſpoſition entirely oppoſite; experienced in the field, cau⯑tious in action, and impreſſed with a thorough contempt of the abilities of his plebeian col⯑league. Fabius, who had juſt reſigned his of⯑fice, ſaw, with his uſual ſagacity, the danger that threatened the ſtate, from two ſuch ill⯑matched commanders, and entreated Aemilius, by all he held dear, to guard againſt the de⯑vices of Hannibal, and the raſhneſs of Teren⯑tius Varro. However, it was now no time for indulging fearful apprehenſions, the enemy be⯑ing at hand, and the Romans finding them⯑ſelves enabled to bring a competent force into the field, being almoſt ninety thouſand ſtrong.

Hannibal was at this time encamped near the village of Cannae, with a wind that for a certain ſeaſon blows ſtill one way, in his rear, which raiſing great clouds of duſt from the parched plains behind, he knew muſt greatly [269] diſtreſs an approaching enemy. In this ſitua⯑tion he waited the coming up of the Romans, with an army of forty thouſand foot and half that number of cavalry. The two conſuls ſoon appeared, to his wiſh, dividing their forces into two parts, and agreeing to take the command every day by turns. On the firſt day of their arrival, it falling to the lot of Aemilius to command, he was entirely averſe to engaging, and though Hannibal did all that lay in his power, by inſulting his men in their camp, and his colleague, by reproaching his timidity, to bring him to a battle, yet he obſtinately de⯑clined fighting, conſcious of the enemy's ſupe⯑rior diſpoſition. The next day however, it be⯑ing come to Varro's turn to command, he, without aſking his colleague's concurrence, gave the ſignal for battle, and paſſing the river Aufidus, that lay between both armies, put his forces in array. The two conſuls com⯑manded the two wings, Varro on the right, and Aemilius on the left; to him alſo was con⯑ſigned the general conduct of the engagement. On the other hand, Hannibal, who had been from day-break employed in the field marſhal⯑ling his forces as they came up, and inſpiring them with courage by his voice and example, had ſo artfully diſpoſed them, that both the wind and the ſun were in his favour. His cavalry were ordered to oppoſe thoſe of [270] Rome. His heavy armed African infantry were placed in either wing. Theſe, ſays the hiſtorian, might have been miſtaken for a Roman army themſelves, being dreſſed in the ſpoils of ſuch as were killed at Trebia and Thraſymene. Next theſe were the Gauls, a fierce people, naked from the waiſt, bearing large round ſhields, and ſwords of an enormous ſize, blunt⯑ed at the point. The Spaniards were placed in the centre, brandiſhing ſhort pointed daggers, and dreſt in linnen veſts, embroidered with the brighteſt ſcarlet. Aſdrubal commanded the left wing, the right was given to Maherbal, and Hannibal himſelf fought on foot in the centre of the army. The battle began with the light⯑armed infantry; the horſe engaged ſoon after, and the Roman cavalry being unable to ſtand againſt thoſe of Numidia, the legions came up to reinforce them. It was then that the conflict became general; the Roman ſoldiers, for a long time, endeavoured, but in vain, to pene⯑trate the centre where the Gauls and Spaniards fought; which Hannibal obſerving, ordered part of thoſe troops to give way, and to per⯑mit the Romans to emboſom themſelves within a choſen body of his Africans, whom he had placed on either wing, ſo as to ſurround them: upon that a terrible ſlaughter began to enſue of the Romans, fatigued by their repeated at⯑tacks, by the Africans, who were freſh and vi⯑gorous. [271] All the hopes of Rome now lay in the cavalry of the allies, which yet continued un⯑broken, but even on that ſide the great art of Han⯑nibal diſcovered itſelf: for having ordered five hundred of his Numidian horſe, who had dag⯑gers concealed under their coats of mail, to go againſt the enemy, and to make a ſhew of ſur⯑rendering themſelves priſoners of war; theſe obeying, and being placed by the allied caval⯑ry for greater ſecurity, in the rear, while they were employed in combating the troops that oppoſed them in front, all of a ſudden, theſe ſuppoſed priſoners fell upon them with their daggers, from behind, and put them into irre⯑coverable confuſion. Thus the rout at laſt be⯑came general in every part of the Roman army; the boaſtings of Varro were now no longer heard, while Aemilius, who had been terribly wounded by a ſlinger in the very beginning of the en⯑gagement, ſtill feebly led on his body of horſe, and did all that could be done to make head againſt the enemy; however, being unable to ſit on horſe⯑back, he was forced to diſmount, as did alſo thoſe who followed him; but what could be expected from a meaſure dictated only by deſpair! Tho' they fought with great intrepidity for ſome time, they were at laſt obliged to give way, thoſe that were able, remounting their horſes, and ſeeking ſafety by flight. It was in this de⯑plorable condition of things, that one Lentulus, [272] a tribune of the army, as he was flying on horſe⯑back from the enemy, which at ſome diſtance purſued him, met the conſul Aemilius ſitting upon a ſtone, covered over with blood and wounds, and waiting for the coming up of the purſuers. ‘"Aemilius," cried the generous tri⯑bune, "you, at leaſt, are guiltleſs of this day's ſlaughter: take my horſe, while you have any ſtrength remaining, I will engage to aſ⯑ſiſt, and will with my life defend you. We have already loſt blood enough in the field, do not make the day more dreadful by the loſs of a commander." "I thank thee, Lentulus," cried the dying conſul, "for ever guard thy virtue, and may the gods re⯑compence thy piety; but as for me, all is over, my part is choſen; do not therefore, by attempting to perſuade a deſperate man, loſe the only means of procuring thine own ſafety. Go, I command thee, and tell the ſenate, from me, to fortify Rome againſt the approach of the conqueror. Tell Fabius alſo, that Aemilius, while living, ever re⯑membered his advice, and now dying, ap⯑proves it."’ While he was yet ſpeaking, the enemy approached, and Lentulus, before he was out of view, ſaw the conſul expire, feebly fighting in the midſt of them. The ſlaughter had now con⯑tinued for ſeveral hours, till at laſt, the conquer⯑ors, quite wearied with deſtroying, Hannibal gave [273] orders for them to deſiſt, and led them back to encampment, a large body of Romans having previouſly ſurrendered upon condition of being diſmiſſed without arms. In this battle, the Romans loſt fifty thouſand men, two Quaeſtors, twenty one Tribunes, eighty ſenators, and ſo many knights, that it is ſaid, Hannibal ſent three buſhels of gold rings to Carthage, which thoſe of this order had worn on their fingers.

This ſeemed the deciſive blow, that was to determine the fate of Rome: it only now re⯑mained, and was univerſally expected, that Hannibal ſhould march his army to the gates of the city, and make it an eaſy conqueſt. This was the advice of Maherbal, his captain of the horſe, who, when Hannibal rejected it, could not help obſerving, that the Car⯑thaginian general was much more ſkillful in gaining victories, than in improving them. In⯑deed the juſtice of Maherbal's advice ſeems to appear from the general terror that univerſally prevailed in Rome at that time. Nothing was heard throughout the city but ſhrieks and lamen⯑tations of women, who on every ſide demanded their huſbands or their children. In vain, for a time, could the ſenators conſult together, being diſturbed by the cries of the populace. No⯑thing but terror appeared in every face, and deſpair was the language of every tongue. At [274] length, when the firſt conſternation was abated, the ſenate came to a general reſolution, to cre⯑ate a dictator, in order to give ſtrength to their government. Orders were alſo given, to keep all women from coming abroad, and ſpreading the conſternation; ſtrict guards were placed at the city gates, with ſtrict injunctions, that none ſhould leave the city. It was at this time, that young Scipio, whom we have already ſeen ſav⯑ing his father's life in battle, was now reſolved to ſave his country alſo. He was then but a tribune of the army, and being retired the night after the battle, to a little town in the neighbourhood of Rome, was informed, that ſome young men of the firſt families in the city were at a certain houſe preparing to aban⯑don their country, and reſolving to ſeek for ſafety elſewhere. He was inſtantly filled with indignation at their puſilanimity; he therefore reſolved to prevent that influence which their example might have upon others, and turning to ſome of his fellow ſoldiers who were with him, ‘"Let thoſe, cried he, to whom Rome is dear, follow me."’ So ſaying, he went di⯑rectly to the houſe in queſtion, where he found them in actual deliberation. Upon this, laying his hand upon his ſword, ‘"I ſwear, cried he, that I will never abandon Rome, and will never ſuffer that others ſhould abandon it. Thoſe who will not take the ſame oath, are [275] not only their country's enemies, but mine"’ The reſolute manner in which he ſpoke this, together with his known courage, in ſome meaſure intimidated the conſpirators, they all took the ſame oath, and vowed, rather than forſake Rome▪ to ſtay till they were buried be⯑neath its ruins. Thence forward, the people ſeemed to gather new reſolution; the ſenate cenceived new hopes of victory, and the augurs gave them aſſurance of a turn in their favour. A ſhort time after, Varro arrived near Rome; having left behind him wretched remains of his army; he had been the principal cauſe of the late calamity, and it was natural to ſuppoſe, that the ſenate would ſeverely reprimand the raſhneſs of his conduct. But fat otherwiſe! The Romans went out in multitudes to meet him, and the ſenate returned him thanks, that he had not deſpaired of the ſafety of Rome. Such a conqueſt over all the vindictive paſſions, was much greater than the victory at Cannae. The people being thus, by Hannibal's delay, inſpir⯑ed with freſh courage, made all poſſible prepa⯑rations for another campaign. They armed their ſlaves, and filled up the ſenate, which wanted near half its number. Fabius, who was conſidered as the ſhield of Rome, and Marcel⯑lus as the ſword, were appointed to lead the armies, and though Hannibal once more offered them peace, they refuſed it, but upon condi⯑tion [276] that he ſhould quit Italy, terms ſimilar to thoſe they had inſiſted upon from Pyrrhus before.

In the mean time, Hannibal, either finding the impoſſibility of marching directly to Rome, or willing to give his forces reſt after ſuch a mighty victory, led them to Capua, where he reſolved to winter. This city had long been conſidered as the nurſe of luxury and the cor⯑rupter of all military virtue; here therefore, a new ſcene of pleaſure opened to his barbarian troops, and they at once gave themſelves up to the intoxication, till, from being hardy veterans, they became infirm rioters. For this he has been greatly blamed by antiquity, as loſing that happy occaſion, when fortune ſeems kind, and exchanging empire for diſſipation; but it is not conſidered what numberleſs obſtacles he had to ſurmount, and what an enemy he had to deal with. Rome was as yet powerful, it could bring into the field, if we may judge from the lateſt eſtimate that was made of its numbers, two hundred thouſand fighting men; it might therefore, have been raſhneſs itſelf in Hannibal, to lead his army to the ſiege of a city, ſtrongly defended by art, and with a garriſon more than four times his equal. We have only to give him credit upon this occaſion, for what he would have done, by remembering the ſeeming impoſſibilities which he happily at⯑chieved. To have led and maintained a large [277] army, conſiſting of various nations, more than a thouſand miles from home. To have ſur⯑mounted precipices, which, conſidering the place he entered Italy, are, to this day, re⯑garded as impaſſable. To have fought ſucceſs⯑fully, for many years, in the heart of an ene⯑mies country. To have, by his ſingle preſence, united into obedience, and formed into one body an army, compoſed of Spaniards, Afri⯑cans, Gauls, and Ligurians, and kept them ſteady to him, though often wanting bread. To have an obſtinate enemy to combat, and faith⯑leſs employers at home, who retarded, becauſe they envied his ſucceſſes. When we conſider him as triumphing over all theſe obſtacles by the ſtrength of his own genius only, we view in him the moſt auguſt ſpectacle, that all anti⯑quity has ever exhibited.

Hitherto we have found this great man ſuc⯑ceſsful, but now we are to reverſe the picture, and ſurvey him ſtruggling with accumulated misfortunes, and at laſt, ſinking beneath them. His firſt repulſe was from his own countrymen at home. Whilſt, at Rome, the thanks of the ſenate were voted to a conſul who fled, at Car⯑thage, Hanno, one of their former generals, began to form a party againſt Hannibal, and more an enemy to his rival, than to the Romans themſelves, forgot nothing that might obſtruct [278] the ſucceſſes he had in proſpect, or tarniſh the ſplendor of thoſe he had already obtained. Upon Hannibal's ſending for a new ſupply of men and money to the ſenate of Carthage, ‘"What would this man have aſked," cried Han⯑no," "if he had loſt a battle? when he makes ſuch draughts upon us after gaining a victo⯑ry. No, no, he is either an impoſtor, that amuſes us with falſe news, or a public rob⯑ber, that enriches himſelf and not his coun⯑try."’ This oppoſition, the effects of which ſtill continued to operate, delayed the neceſſary ſuccours, though it could not hinder their tardy compliance. Thus, being frequently deſtitute of money and proviſions, and reduced to the ne⯑ceſſity of being always ſucceſsful, with no re⯑cruits of ſtrength in caſe of ill fortune, and no encouragement even in the good, it is not to be wondered at, that his affairs began at length to decline, and that thoſe of the oppoſing ge⯑nerals began to proſper, whoſe employers ob⯑ſerved a contrary conduct.

His firſt loſs was at the ſiege of Nola, where Marcellus the praetor made a ſucceſsful ſally. He ſome time after attempted to raiſe the ſiege of Capua, and attacked the Romans in their trenches, but he was repulſed with conſiderable loſs. He then made a feint of going to beſiege Rome, but finding a ſuperior army ready to [279] receive him, he was obliged to retire. For ſome years after, he fought with various ſucceſs, Mar⯑cellus, U. C. 544 his opponent, ſometimes gaining, and ſometimes loſing the advantage, but coming to no deciſive engagement. However, even victo⯑ries themſelves could not reſtore the affairs of Hannibal, for though theſe might leſſen the number of his enemies forces, he had exhauſted all the arts of recruiting his own.

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

But it was not in Italy alone, that the affairs of Carthage ſeemed to decline, for the Romans, while yet bleeding from their defeat at Cannae, [280] ſent legions into Spain, Sardinia, and Sicily. This unconquerable people, ſurrounded by ene⯑mies on every ſide, ſtill found reſources to op⯑poſe them all; they not only fought thoſe na⯑tions, but appointed freſh ſuccours to the few allies that yet adhered to them: they made head againſt Hannibal in Italy, and ſtill more, un⯑dertook a new war againſt Philip, king of Ma⯑cedon, for having made a league with the Car⯑thaginians. Fortune ſeemed to favour them in almoſt all their enterprizes. Laevinus, the conſul gained conſiderable advantages over Philip, and Marcellus took Syracuſe in Sicily, which was defended by the machines and fires of Archi⯑medes the mathematician.

This great city firſt invited the efforts of the beſiegers, as it was generally thought indefen⯑ſible, and its riches were immenſe. The Ro⯑mans therefore ſate down before it, with the expectation of a ſpeedy ſurrender, and immenſe plunder. But the wiſdom of one man alone, ſeemed to ſuſpend its fate: this was Archime⯑des, the celebrated mathematician, many of whoſe works are ſtill remaining; he deſtroy⯑ing their men, and demoliſhing their ſhipping. He ſo united the powers of mechaniſm, that he raiſed their veſſels into the air, and then let them daſh to pieces, by the violence of their fall. He alſo made uſe of burning glaſſes, which, at the diſtance of ſome hundred yards, [281] ſet the Roman ſhips and wooden towers on fire. At laſt however, the town was taken on a great feſtival by ſurprize. The inhabitants were put to the ſword, and among the reſt, Archimedes, who was found meditating in his ſtudy, was ſlain by a Roman ſoldier. Marcellus, the ge⯑neral, was not a little grieved at his death; a paſſion for letters, at that time, began to pre⯑vail among the higher ranks of people at Rome. He therefore ordered his body to be honourably buried, and a tomb to be erected to his memory, which however his works have long ſurvived.

As for their fortunes in Spain, though for a while they appeared doubtful, two of the Sci⯑pios being ſlain, and Claudius Nero, the go⯑vernor of the province, much an under-match for the cunning of the Carthaginian general; yet they ſoon recovered their complexion under the conduct of Scipio Africanus, who ſued for the office of proconſul, for that kingdom, at a time when every one elſe was willing to decline it. Scipio, who was now but twenty-four years old, had all the qualifications requiſite for form⯑ing a great general, and a good man: he united the greateſt courage with the greateſt tender⯑neſs; ſuperior to Hannibal in the arts of peace, and almoſt his equal in thoſe of war. His fa⯑ther had been killed in Spain, ſo that he ſeemed to have an hereditary claim to the conqueſt of the country. He therefore appeared irreſiſtible, [282] obtaining many great victories, yet ſubduing ſtill more by his generoſity, mildneſs, and be⯑nevolent diſpoſition, than by the force of his arms. Among other inſtances of the greatneſs of Scipio's mind, was the following: upon the taking of New Carthage, he treated his pri⯑ſoners with the utmoſt lenity, and different from other generals, who permitted every barba⯑rity to their ſoldiers, he repreſſed his men from doing any injury to ſuch as ſued for mercy. Among the priſoners that were made at the taking this city, a young princeſs was brought before him, of the moſt exquiſite beauty: ſhe had been promiſed to Alleucius, a prince of that country, who loved her with the moſt ar⯑dent paſſion, and had felt the moſt poignant diſtreſs for her captivity. It was thought, by the ſollicitude the generous Roman ſeemed to ſhew, that he deſigned aſking her from her parents for himſelf, and more ſo, when he de⯑ſired, that the prince and they might come before him. The young prince approached, trembling with anxiety, expecting to hear, that his miſ⯑treſs, who was now the property of another, was intended to promote the happineſs of her con⯑queror: but his fears were diſpelled, when Scipio giving the princeſs to his arms, bade him take what was his by a prior claim, and only deſired his friendſhip and alliance in return: at the ſame time, he refuſed the ranſom which her parents [283] had brought, and when they preſſed him to take it, he deſired it might be added to her portion. It was by ſuch generous acts as theſe, as well as the fortune of his arms, that he re⯑duced the whole country to the obedience of the empire.

In this manner, Spain and Sicily being added to the Roman empire, it now found reſour⯑ces for continuing the Punic war. However, Hannibal ſtill kept his ground in Italy, al⯑though he was unſupported at home, and but indifferently aſſiſted by the alliances he had made, ſince his croſſing the Alps. He had now continued in this country for more than fourteen years, and as Polybius ſays, had never loſt a ſin⯑gle battle, where he himſelf was the commader. But it was now too late to retrieve his fortune, the Romans were taught his own arts, his old army was worn out, either with exceſſes of fatigue or debauchery; his countrymen had given over ſending new ſupplies, ſo that he had nothing now to make him formidable, but the fame of his former good fortune.

It was in this poſture of his affairs, that Scipio returned with an army from the conqueſt of Spain, and was made conſul at the age of twenty-nine. It was at firſt ſuppoſed, he in⯑tended meeting Hannibal in Italy, and that he would attempt driving him from thence; but he had already formed a wiſer plan, which was [284] to carry the war into Africa, and while the Carthaginians kept an army near Rome, to make them tremble for their own capital. This meaſure was oppoſed with great heat by Fa⯑bius, and thereupon a conſiderable difference aroſe; but at laſt it was determined by the ſenate, that Scipio ſhould be granted Sicily for his province, and that leave ſhould be given him to paſs over into Africa, if he ſaw it convenient for the intereſts of Rome. This he conſidered as a concurrence with his aims; he accordingly ſpent the firſt year in Sicily, providing neceſſaries for his intended expedi⯑tion, and went over into Africa the beginning of the next, with a large fleet, where he was joined by Maſſiniſſa, the depoſed king of Nu⯑midia, with whom he had made an alliance in Spain.

Scipio was not long in Africa without em⯑ployment, for in a ſhort time, Hanno oppoſed him, who was defeated and ſlain. Syphax, the uſurper of Numidia, led up a large army againſt him. The Roman general, for a time, declined fighting, till finding an opportunity, he ſet fire to the enemy's tents, and attacking him in the midſt of the confuſion, killed forty thou⯑ſand of his men, and took ſix thouſand priſoners. Not long after, Syphax, willing to ſtrike one blow more for empire, and fearing that his kingdom would return to the true poſſeſſor, in caſe the the Romans ſhould ſucceed, gathered together a [285] numerous army of various nations, and with theſe unexperienced troops marched againſt Scipio. His former ill fortune followed him, he was ſoon defeated, and he himſelf taken pri⯑ſoner. Maſſiniſſa being thus put in poſſeſſion of the uſurper's perſon, the better to regain his king⯑dom, marched with the utmoſt expedition to Cirta, the chief city, and ſhewing Syphax in bonds, procured the gates to be opened, every one ſtriving to make up their former diſloyalty, by their ready obedience. In this manner, Maſ⯑ſiniſſa became poſſeſſed of the royal palace, and and all the wealth of the late king, but among the reſt, of a treaſure that he eſteemed above all, Sophoniſba, the wife of Syphax. Sophoniſba was the daughter of Aſdrubal, one of the Car⯑thaginian generals: ſhe was a woman of great ambition, and incomparable beauty: it was ſhe, that from the beginning had incited Sy⯑phax to declare againſt Rome, in favour of Carthage, and the influence of her charms was ſuch, that he gave up ſafety, to be poſſeſſed of love. Upon Maſſiniſſa's entering the palace, he was met by the queen, who with all the allurements of weeping beauty, fell at his feet, and entreated him to ſpare her youth, and not deliver her up to the Romans, who were pre⯑pared to take revenge upon her, for all the injuries done them by her father. While ſhe yet hung upon his knees, and in ſome mea⯑ſure, [286] mixed careſſes with her entreaties, Maſſi⯑nſſa found himſelf touched with a paſſion that was ſomething more than pity: he fell in love: he therefore quickly granted her requeſt, and finding her not averſe to his ſollicitations, the very day they firſt met, was that of their nuptials. The firſt account that Scipio had of this haſty and unjuſt marriage, was from the unfortunate Syphax himſelf, who attempted to palliate his enmity to Rome, by throwing the blame upon Sophoniſba; and then deſcribed the wretchedneſs of his ſituation, with an eloquence pointed by jealouſy. Scipio was inſtantly fired with reſentment at the conduct of the young king: he now ſaw that all his former lectures, exhorting to continence and humanity, were but thrown away; he therefore deſired to ſpeak with Maſſiniſſa in private, where he urged the cruelty, the impropriety, and the injuſtice of taking the wife of another, and that on the very day, on which he had loſt his liberty and his kingdom: he entreated the young king to recollect his former virtuous reſolutions, and re⯑ject a paſſion that was attended with infamy. Finding however, theſe remonſtrances make no impreſſion, he added, that Syphax was now the priſoner of Rome, that he muſt wait upon the ſenate, and that his queen, who was a priſoner alſo, muſt attend him there. Maſſiniſſa now find⯑ing that the obſtacles to his happineſs were inſur⯑mountable, [287] left the general in a ſeeming acquieſcence in his advice, but feeling all that tumult of paſſions, which diſappointed love, and ungoverned inclination could excite, at laſt, called one of his ſlaves who carried poi⯑ſon, according to the cuſtom of barbarian kings, ‘"Go," ſaid he, "and preſent the queen, from me, with a bowl of poiſon; death is now the only way ſhe has left of eſcaping the power of the Romans. The daughter of Aſdrubal, and the wife of a king, will conſult for glory."’ When the ſlave preſented his miſtreſs with the bowl, ‘"I take it," cried ſhe, "as the kindeſt offering he can make. In the mean time, inform him, that my death would have been more glorious, had it been more remote from my marriage."’ So ſaying, ſhe drank off the poiſon with intrepidity, and died, without ſhewing any ſigns of terror.

In the mean time, while theſe things were tranſacting at Cirta, the Carthaginians were ſo terrified at their repeated defeats, and the fame of Scipio's former ſucceſſes, that they deter⯑mined to recall Hannibal, their great champion, out of Italy, in order to oppoſe the Romans at home. Deputies were accordingly diſpatched, with a poſitive command, to return and oppoſe the Roman general, who at that time threaten⯑ed Carthage with a ſiege. Nothing could ex⯑ceed [288] the regret and diſappointment of Hanni⯑bal, upon receiving this order; he had long foreſeen the ruin of his country, but at the ſame time knew, that Italy was the only place, in which its fate could be ſuſpended. However, he obeyed the orders of the infatuated people, with the ſame ſubmiſſion that the meaneſt ſol⯑dier would have done, and took leave of Italy, with tears in his eyes, after having kept poſ⯑ſeſſion of the moſt beautiful parts of it for above fifteen years.

After a melancholly paſſage from Italy, where he had loſt his two brothers, and moſt of his braveſt generals, and left the allies of his country to the fury of the conquerors, he arrived at Leptis, in Africa, from whence he marched to Adrumetum, and at laſt approached Zama, a city within five days journey of Carthage. Scipio, in the mean time, led his army to meet him, joined by Maſſiniſſa, with ſix thouſand horſe, and to ſhew his rival in the field, how little he feared his approach, ſent back the ſpies, which were ſent to explore his camp, having previouſly ſhewn them the whole, with direc⯑tions to inform Hannibal of what they had ſeen. The Carthaginian general ſoon found out the ſuperior force of the enemy, compoſed of the flower of the Romans, while his own army was now but a mixture of various nations, drawn together by neceſſity, with no experience, [289] and with little other diſcipline, but what the ſhort time he commanded them could give. The troops that almoſt ſubdued all Italy were worn out, or but nominally exiſting in his army. Conſcious of this therefore, his firſt endeavours were to diſcontinue the war by negotiation; and he therefore deſired a meeting with Scipio, to confer upon terms of peace, to which the Roman general aſſented. It was in a large plain between the two armies, that the two greateſt generals in the world came to this interview: both, for a while, ſilently regarded his opponent, as if ſtruck with mutual reverence and eſteem. Scipio was, in figure, adorned with all advan⯑tages of manly beauty; Hannibal bore the marks in his viſage, of hard campaigns, and being blind of one eye, it gave a ſtern air to his countenance. Hannibal ſpoke firſt, to this effect: ‘"Were I not convinced of the equity of the Romans, I would not this day have come to demand peace from the ſon, over whoſe father I have formerly been victorious. Would to heaven, that the ſame moderation, which I hope inſpires us at this day, had pre⯑vailed among us at the beginning of the war; that you had been content with the limits of your Italian dominions, and that we had ne⯑ver aimed at adding Sicily to our empire: we had then on both ſides ſpared that blood, which no rewards from victory can repay. [290] As for myſelf, age has taught me the inanity of triumphs, and the inſtability of fortune: but you are young, and perhaps, not yet leſſoned in the ſchool of adverſity; you are now, what I was, after the battles of Cannae and Thraſymene; you perhaps will aim at ſplendid, rather than at uſeful virtues. But conſider, that peace is the end at which all victories aim, and that peace, I am ſent here by my country to offer: do not therefore, expoſe to the hazard of an hour, that fame which you have obtained by an age of conqueſts. At preſent, Scipio, fortune is in your power, a moment of time may give it to your enemy. But let me not call myſelf ſuch; it is Hannibal that now addreſſes you, Hannibal that eſteems your vir⯑tues, and deſires your friendſhip. Peace will be uſeful to us both; as for me, I ſhall be proud of the alliance of Rome, and as for you, you will convert an active enemy into a ſtedfaſt friend."’ To this Scipio replied, ‘"That as to the wars which he complained of, as they were begun by the Carthaginians, ſo they muſt abide by the conſequence. That as to himſelf, he could never condemn his own perſeverance on the ſide of juſ⯑tice. That ſome late outrages had been committed during a late truce, which re⯑quired the greater reparation, which if con⯑ſented [291] to, he was willing to conclude a treaty."’ Both ſides parting diſſatisfied, they returned to their camps, to prepare for deciding the controverſy by the ſword. Never was a more memorable battle fought, whether we regard the generals, the armies, the two ſtates that contended, or the empire that was in diſpute. The diſpoſition Hannibal made of his men, is ſaid, by the ſkillful in the art of war, to be ſuperior to any, even of his former arrangements. He encouraged the various nations of his army, by the differing motives which led them to the field; to the mercenaries, he promiſed a diſ⯑charge of their arrears, and double pay, with plunder, in caſe of a victory; the Gauls he in⯑ſpired, by aggravating their natural hatred to the Romans; the Numidians, by repreſenting the cruelty of their new king; and the Cartha⯑ginians by reminding them of their country, their glory, their danger of ſervitude, and their deſire of freedom. Scipio, on the other hand, with a chearful countenance, bade his men re⯑joice, for that their labours and their dangers were now near an end. That the gods had given Carthage into their hands, and that they ſhould ſoon return triumphant to their friends, their wives and their children. The battle began by the elephants, on the ſide of the Carthagini⯑ans, which being terrified by the cries of the Ro⯑mans, and wounded by the ſlingers and archers, [292] turned upon themſelves, and cauſed much con⯑fuſion in both wings of their army, in which the cavalry was placed. Being thus deprived of the aſſiſtance of the horſe, in which their greateſt ſtrength conſiſted, the heavy infantry joined on both ſides. The Romans were more vigorous and powerful in the ſhock, the Car⯑thaginians more active and ready. However, they were unable to withſtand the continued preſſure of the Roman ſhields, but at firſt gave way a little, and this ſoon brought on a gene⯑ral flight. The rear guard, who had orders from Hannibal to oppoſe thoſe that fled, now began to attack their own forces, ſo that the body of the infantry ſuſtained a double encounter, of thoſe who cauſed their flight, and thoſe who endeavoured to prevent it. At length however, the general finding that they were not to be made to ſtand, directed, that they ſhould fall behind, while he brought up his freſh forces to oppoſe the purſuers. Scipio, upon this, im⯑mediately ſounded a retreat, in order to bring up his men a ſecond time in good order. And now the combat began afreſh, between the flower of both armies. The Carthaginians however, having been deprived of the ſuc⯑cour of their elephants and their horſe, and their enemies being ſtronger of body, were obliged to give ground. In the mean time, Maſſiniſſa, who had been in purſuit of their [293] cavalry, returning and attacking them in the rear, compleated their defeat. A total rout enſued, twenty thouſand men were killed in battle or the purſuit, and as many were taken priſoners. Hannibal, who had done all that a great general and an undaunted ſoldier could perform, fled with a ſmall body of horſe to Adrumetum, fortune ſeeming to delight in confounding his ability, his valour, and expe⯑rience.

This victory brought on a peace. The Car⯑thaginians, by Hannibal's advice, offered con⯑ditions to the Romans, which they dictated, not as rivals, but as ſovereigns. By this treaty, the Carthaginians were obliged to quit Spain, and all the Iſlands in the Mediterra⯑nean ſea. They were bound to pay ten thou⯑ſand talents in fifty years; to give hoſtages for the delivery of their ſhips and their elephants. To reſtore Maſſiniſſa all the territories that had been taken from him, and not to make war in Africa, but by the permiſſion of the Romans. Thus ended the ſecond Punic war, ſeventeen years after it had begun: Carthage ſtill conti⯑nued an empire, but without power to defend its poſſeſſions, and only waiting the pleaſure of the conquerors, when they ſhould think proper to end the period of its continuance. After the U. C. 553 depreſſion of this mighty dominion, the Ro⯑mans were ſcarce engaged but in petty wars, [294] and obtained mighty victories; whereas before, they had obtained but petty victories, and were engaged in dangerous wars.

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

UPON the concluſion of ſo great and long a war as that of Carthage, there ſeemed to ariſe a certain ſpirit in the Roman republic, un⯑known till that time. Men, till now had received diſtinction from their abilities, their families, their offices, or their virtues: but upon the conqueſt of ſuch various countries, ſuch great riches, and ſo many ſlaves were brought into Rome, that the manners of the people began to alter. Riches gave them a taſte for pleaſures unknown before, and the ſlaves they had taken, were put to thoſe offices of labour and huſbandry, that had formerly contributed to harden the warrior, and mark the character of Roman ſimplicity. Their love of their country, and their zeal for the pub⯑lic good, ſeemed exhauſted in the war againſt Hannibal: many had given up their whole fortunes to the republic, and not find⯑ing [295] that recompence in peace, which the publick was as yet unable to grant them; they ſuffered neglect patiently for a while, and at laſt con⯑verted their anger at the ingratitude of the ſtate, into a deſire of private intereſt: they ſought new connections in ſociety, and forget⯑ting the whole, laboured to form particular dependencies.

The ſenate however, proſecuted new wars, ra⯑ther with a view of keeping theſe ſpirits employ⯑ed from doing harm to the empire, than of ad⯑vancing its intereſts. They continued to carry on the Macedonian war againſt Philip, who, as was ſaid before, had entered into an alliance with the Carthaginians, during the conqueſts of Hannibal. To this war the Romans were not a little incited by the prayers of the Athe⯑nians; that polite people, who from once con⯑trolling the power of Perſia, were now unable to defend themſelves. The Rhodians, with At⯑talus, king of Pergamus, alſo entered into the confederacy againſt Philip. He was more than once defeated by Galba the conſul, who was ſent againſt him. He attempted to beſiege Athens, but the Romans obliged him to raiſe the ſiege. He attempted to take poſſeſſion of the ſtreights of Thermopylae, but was driven from them by Quintus Flaminius, with great ſlaughter. He attempted to take re⯑fuge in Theſſaly, where he was again defeated, [296] with conſiderable loſs, and obliged to beg a peace, upon condition of paying a thouſand ta⯑lents, half down, and the other half in the ſpace of ten years. The peace with Philip gave the Romans an opportunity of ſhewing their generoſity, by reſtoring liberty to Greece. They had for ſome time ſubmitted to the inſtitutions of this moſt refined people, and now out of a principle of gratitude, endeavoured to recom⯑pence their maſters. The ſenate therefore ſent over ten men of the firſt rank, with Flammi⯑nius at their head, to proclaim an univerſal free⯑dom, at the Iſthmian games, where the people were aſſembled. This was the moſt ſurprizing and joyful gift that could be imagined, to a people panting after liberty, and whoſe anceſ⯑tors had ſpent their deareſt blood in its cauſe. The Greeks gave them all the return that was now in their power, namely, praiſe; this ſatis⯑fied the Romans, for vanity was now the ruling paſſion of the times: and thus ended what was called the firſt Macedonian war, five years after U. C. 558 it was laſt proclaimed, and twenty after it had begun.

During the continuance of this war, the Gauls, who had joined with Hannibal, received ſome ſignal overthrows. The Spaniards alſo, who had revolted, were quelled by Cato the cenſor. The Ligurians, though joining with the Gauls, were ſubdued. Nabis, the depoſed king of La⯑cedaemon, [297] oppoſed the Romans, but was forced to ſubmit. Scarce any nation or prince of power attempted to oppoſe them, that was not over⯑thrown. Antiochus, king of Syria, was a mo⯑narch, whoſe ſtrength and fame invited their ambition, and after ſome embaſſies on the one ſide and the other, a war was declared againſt him, five years after the concluſion of the Ma⯑cedonian war. The pretext of the Romans was, that he had made encroachments upon the Gre⯑cian ſtates, who were their allies, and that he had given refuge to Hannibal, their inveterate enemy, who had been expelled from Carthage. This Antiochus, who was ſurnamed the Great, was one of Alexander's ſucceſſors, a potent prince, bold, ambitious, and maſter of very extenſive dominions, which his perſonal abilities invigo⯑rated and inſpired. The Aetolians, who had ima⯑gined they ſhould bear ſway in Greece by joining with the Romans, found too late, that they had only brought themſelves to ſhare the ge⯑neral ſubjection, in which the reſt of the ſtates of Greece were held, under the ſpecious deno⯑mination of freedom. In order therefore, to correct one extravagance by another, they had invited this prince among them, in the ſame manner, as before they had invited the Ro⯑mans. He accordingly came to their aſſiſt⯑ance, but with an army, rather as if he in⯑tended only to be a ſpectator, than a manager [298] of the war, and inſtead of preparing for the Romans, ſate down at Epheſus to take his pleaſures. Being however, apprized of the ene⯑mies approach, he endeavoured to treat for a peace; this not ſucceeding, he placed his de⯑pendance on his maritime forces; but even there his expectations were fruſtrated, though the great Hannibal was his admiral. In the midſt of the conſternation occaſioned by theſe misfortunes, he abandoned Lyſimachia, a place where he might have held the enemy for a year, and adding one indiſcretion to another, ſuffered Scipio, brother to the famous Africa⯑nus, to paſs the Helleſpont with his army, without oppoſition. He then attempted to ob⯑tain a peace, by offering to quit all places in Europe, and ſuch in Aſia as profeſt alliance with Rome. But it was now too late, the Ro⯑man general perceived his own ſuperiority, and was reſolved to avail himſelf of it. Antiochus thus driven into reſiſtance, for ſome time re⯑treated before the enemy, till being preſſed hard, near the city of Magneſia, he was forced to draw out his men, to the number of ſeventy thouſand foot, and twelve thouſand horſe. Sci⯑pio oppoſed him with forces, as much inferior in number, as they were ſuperior in courage and diſcipline. He was in a ſhort time entirely defeated, his own chariots, armed with ſcythes, being driven back upon his men, contributed [299] much to his overthrow. Antiochus thus re⯑duced to the laſt extremity, was glad to pro⯑cure peace of the Romans, upon their own terms, which were, to pay fifteen thouſand ta⯑lents towards the expences of the war; to quit all poſſeſſions in Europe, and likewiſe all in Aſia, on that ſide Mount Taurus; to give twenty hoſtages as pledges of his fidelity, and to deliver up Hannibal, the inveterate enemy of Rome. Thus ended the war with Antiochus, twelve years after the ſecond Punic war, and two after it had been begun. Lucius Scipio, who conducted it, with the aſſiſtance of his brother Scipio Africanus, who went as his lieu⯑tenant, was called Aſiaticus, from his ſucceſs in Aſia.

In the mean time, Hannibal, whoſe deſtruc⯑tion was one of the articles of this extorted treaty, endeavoured to avoid the threatened ruin. This conſummate general had been long a wan⯑derer, and an exile from his ungrateful coun⯑try: all that prudence or juſtice could inſpire, he had done for the ſafety of Carthage, even after the battle which he had loſt at Zama. Upon his return to his native city, he found the public treaſures exhauſted among thoſe who pretended to collect them, and when he endea⯑voured to puniſh their avarice, they accuſed him to the Romans, of attempting to renew the war. This bringing on a demand that he [300] ſhould be delivered up, he reſolved to yield to the neceſſity of the times, and fly. Thus leav⯑ing Carthage, in the very robe he wore in council, and attended only by two followers, who were ignorant of his intentions, he began his voluntary exile. After two days travelling by land, he embarked, and landed on a little iſland in the Mediterranean ſea. There being known by one who had formerly fought under his command, he was quickly ſurrounded by the inhabitants, who came from motives of re⯑verence and curioſity. From thence he failed to Tyre, where he met with a kind reception from the inhabitants, who remembered their ancient alliance with Carthage. He thence went to the court of Antiochus, who at firſt gave him a ſincere welcome, and made him admiral of his fleet, in which ſtation he ſhewed his uſual ſkill in ſtratagem. But he ſoon ſunk in the Syrian's eſteem, for having adviſed ſchemes, which that monarch had neither genius to underſtand, nor talents to execute, particularly, that of a ſecond invaſion of Italy. At laſt, finding himſelf deſ⯑tined to be given up, in order to propitiate the Romans, and confirm the peace, and finding no hopes of ſafety or protection there, he de⯑parted by ſtealth, and after wandering for a time among petty ſtates, who had neither power nor generoſity to protect him, he took refuge at the court of Pruſias, king of Bithynia. Howe⯑ver [301] the Romans, with a vindictive ſpirit utterly unworthy of them, ſent Aemilius, one of their moſt celebrated generals, to demand him of this king, who fearing the reſentment of Rome, and willing to conciliate their friendſhip by this breach of hoſpitality, ordered a guard to be placed upon Hannibal, with an intention of delivering him up. The old general, thus im⯑placably perſecuted from one country to an⯑other, and finding all methods of ſafety cut off, determined to die: he therefore, deſired one of his followers to bring him poiſon, which he had prepared for this exigence, and while he was preparing to take it, ‘"Let us rid the Romans," ſays he, "of their terrors, ſince they are unwilling to wait for the death of an old man like me: there was a time, when there was more generoſity remaining among them, they have been known to guard their enemy from poiſon, and now they baſely ſend an embaſſy to ſeek the life of a baniſhed man, and to make a feeble monarch break the laws of hoſpitality."’ Thus ſaying, and drinking the poiſon, he expired, as he had lived, with intrepid bravery.

In the mean time, while theſe things were doing abroad, the ſpirit of diſſention ſeemed to rekindle in Rome. In the third year after end⯑ing the war with Antiochus, the tribunes of the people undertook to accuſe Scipio Africanus of [302] defrauding the treaſury of the plunder which was taken in war, and of too intimate a cor⯑reſpondence with that king. Accordingly, a day was ſet him by the tribunes to anſwer for his conduct. Scipio appeared at the appointed time, but inſtead of attempting a defence, he reminded his countrymen, that on that very day he had gained the victory of Zama. This ſtruck the aſſembly of the people ſo ſtrongly, that they all left the tribunes in the Forum, and went to attend Scipio to the Capitol, to return their annual thanks to the gods for the victory. The tribunes finding themſelves diſ⯑appointed here, were reſolved to accuſe him in the ſenate, and deſired, that he ſhould bring his accounts to anſwer to their charge. Scipio, inſtead of gratifying them even in this, tore his accounts before them, and ſoon after withdrew to Linternum, a town on the coaſt of Campa⯑nia, where he ſpent the reſt of his life in peace and privacy: he lived however, but three years longer, teſtifying his diſpleaſure againſt his countrymen, by the epitaph which he ordered to be engraved on his tomb: ‘"Ungrateful country, my very bones ſhall not reſt among you."’ This was the ſame year on which Hannibal died, as alſo Philopoemen, a Grecian general, who was reckoned equal to either of the former.

[303] The factious ſpirit which was now excited in the republic continued for ſome years, during all their ſubſequent wars and victories over the Ligurians, Iſtrians, Sardinians, Corſicans, and Macedonians, for the Romans ſoon after entered into a ſecond Macedonian war. This was with Perſeus the ſon of Philip, the king of that country, whom we have already ſeen obliged to beg a peace of the Romans. Perſeus, in or⯑der to ſecure the crown, had contrived to mur⯑der his brother Demetrius, and upon the death of his father, pleaſed with the hopes of imagi⯑nary triumphs, made war againſt Rome. During the courſe of this war, which continued about three years, many opportunities were offered him of cutting off the Roman army, but being perfectly ignorant of making his advantage of their raſhneſs, he ſpent the time in empty over⯑tures for a peace. At length, Aemilius gave him a deciſive overthrow near the river Enipeus. He attempted to procure ſafety by flying into Crete, but being abandoned by all, he was obliged to ſurrender himſelf, and to grace the ſplendid triumph of the Roman general. He was led, with his two ſons, before the conquer⯑or's chariot, into Rome; while Gentius, king of the Illyrians, and his confederates, was in the ſame manner led captive, before the chariot of Lucius Amicius, one of the Roman admirals.

[304] Theſe wars, which brought immenſe riches into the Roman treaſury, were no ſooner finiſhed▪ than they found a pretext to enter upon the third and laſt Punic war. Carthage was now a ſtate that only ſubſiſted by the mercy of the con⯑querors, and was to fall at the ſlighteſt breath of their indignation. About this time, Maſſi⯑niſſa, the Numidian, having made ſome incur⯑ſions into a territory claimed by the Carthagi⯑nians, they attempted to repel the invaſion. This brought on a war between that monarch and them, while the Romans, who pretended to conſider this conduct of theirs as an infrac⯑tion of the treaty, ſent to them to make com⯑plaint. The ambaſſadors who were employed upon this occaſion finding the city very rich and flouriſhing, from the long interval of peace which it had now enjoyed for near fifty years, either from motives of avarice to poſſeſs its plunder, or from fear of its growing greatneſs, inſiſted much on the neceſſity of a war. Among the chief of theſe was Cato, who never ſpoke in the ſenate upon public buſineſs, but he ended his ſpeech, by inculcating the neceſſity of de⯑ſtroying Carthage. It was in vain that he was oppoſed by Naſica, who with more ſagacious forecaſt urged the danger of deſtroying a rival ſtate, that ſtill would be an incentive to Roman diſcipline. Cato's opinion prevailed, and the ſenate having a fair pretence to begin, ordered [305] war to be proclaimed, and the conſuls ſet out with a thorough reſolution utterly to demoliſh Carthage.

The Carthaginians, now too late, perceived the wiſdom of Hannibal, who had foreſeen the conſequences of their conduct, but it was not till they had found their want of him. Af⯑frighted at the Roman preparations, (for they had, during this long period, been only intent on amaſſing private wealth, and no way careful for public ſafety) they immediately condemned thoſe who had broken the league, and moſt hum⯑bly offered any reaſonable ſatisfaction. To theſe ſubmiſſions, the ſenate only returned an evaſive anſwer, demanding three hundred hoſtages within thirty days, as a ſecurity for their future conduct, and an implicit obedience to their fur⯑ther commands. With theſe articles it was ſup⯑poſed the Carthaginians would not comply, but it turned out otherwiſe, for this infatuated people deſiring peace on any terms, ſent their children within the limitted time, and the con⯑ſuls landing at Utica ſoon after, were waited upon by deputies from Carthage, to know the ſenate's further demands, as certain of a ready compliance. Upon this, the Roman generals were not a little perplexed, in what manner to force them into diſobedience; wherefore Cen⯑ſorinus the conſul, commending their diligence, demanded all their arms; but theſe alſo, con⯑trary [306] to expectation, they delivered up. At laſt, they found that the conquerors would not deſiſt making demands, while the vanquiſhed had any thing left to ſupply. They now therefore re⯑ceived orders to leave their city, which was to be levelled with the ground, being granted, at the ſame time, permiſſion to build another, in any part of their territories, within ten miles of the ſea. This ſevere command they received with all the concern and diſtreſs of a deſpairing peo⯑ple: they implored for a reſpite from ſuch an hard ſentence; they uſed tears and lamenta⯑tions,: but finding the conſuls inexorable, they departed with a gloomy reſolution, prepared to ſuffer the utmoſt extremities, and to fight to the laſt for their ſeat of empire, and ancient habi⯑tation.

Upon returning home, and divulging the ill ſucceſs of their commiſſion, a general ſpirit of reſiſtance ſeemed to inſpire the whole people; they now, too late began to ſee the danger of riches in a ſtate, when it had no longer power to defend them. Thoſe veſſels therefore, of gold and ſilver which their luxury had taken ſuch pride in, were converted into arms, as they had given up their iron, which was in their preſent circumſtances, the moſt precious metal. The women parted alſo with their or⯑naments, and even cut off their hair to be con⯑verted into ſtrings for the bowmen. Aſdrubal, [307] who had been lately condemned for oppoſing the Romans, was now taken from priſon to head their army; and ſuch preparations were made, that when the conſuls came before the city, which they expected to find an eaſy con⯑queſt, they met ſuch reſiſtance, as quite diſpi⯑rited their forces, and ſhook their reſolution. Several engagements were fought before the walls, with diſadvantage to the aſſailants, ſo that the ſiege would have been diſcontinued, had not Scipio Aemilianus, the adopted ſon of Africanus, who was now appointed to com⯑mand it, uſed as much ſkill to ſave his forces after a defeat, as to inſpire them with freſh hopes of victory. But all his arts would have failed, had he not found means to ſeduce Phar⯑ [...]e [...]s, the maſter of the Carthaginian horſe, who came over to his ſide. He from that time went on ſucceſsfully; that part of Carthage called Megara, was the firſt that was taken, while the inhabitants were driven into the citadel. He then ſecured the iſthmus which led to the city, and thus cut off all ſupplies of proviſions from the country. He next blocked up the haven, but the beſieged, with incredible induſtry, cut out a new paſſage into the ſea, whereby, at cer⯑tain times, they could receive neceſſaries from [...] army without. That army therefore, was t be ſubdued, ere the city could be thorough⯑ly inveſted. Wherefore, Scipio ſet upon them in [308] the beginning of the enſuing winter, killed ſeventy thouſand of their men, and took ten thouſand priſoners of war. The unhappy townſmen, now bereft of all external ſuccour, reſolved upon every extremity, rather than ſubmit: but they ſoon ſaw the enemy make nearer approaches; the wall which led to the haven was quickly demoliſhed; ſoon after, the Forum itſelf was taken, which offered the conquerors, a de⯑plorable ſpectacle of houſes tottering to the fall, heaps of men lying dead beneath, hundreds of the wounded ſtruggling to emerge from the carnage around them, and deploring their own and their country's ruin. The citadel ſoon af⯑ter ſurrendered at diſcretion. All now but the temple was ſubdued, and that was defended by deſerters, and thoſe who had been moſt for⯑ward to undertake the war. Theſe however, expecting no mercy, and finding their condition deſperate, ſet fire to the building, and volunta⯑rily periſhed in the flames. Aſdrubal the Car⯑thaginian general delivered himſelf up to the Ro⯑mans, when the citadel was taken, but his wife and two children ruſhed into the temple while yet on fire, and expired with their country. Then was this magnificent city laid in aſhes by the mer⯑cileſs conquerors, and ſo extenſive was it, being twenty-four miles in compaſs, that the burning continued for ſeventeen days together. The ſenate of Rome ordered that no part of it ſhould [309] be rebuilt; it was demoliſhed to the ground, ſo that travellers are unable to ſay where Car⯑thage ſtood, at this day. All the cities which aſſiſted Carthage in this war, were ordered to ſhare the ſame fate, and the lands belonging to them were given to the friends of the Romans. The other towns of Afric became tributary to Rome, and were governed by an annual praetor; while the numberleſs captives who were taken in the courſe of this war, were ſold as ſlaves, except ſome few, who were adjudged to die by the hands of the executioner. This was the end of one of the moſt renowned cities in the world, both for arts, opulence, and extent of dominion; it had rivalled Rome for above an hundred years, and at one time, was thought to have the ſuperiority. But all the grandeur of Carthage was founded on commerce alone, which is ever fluctuating, and at beſt, ſerves to dreſs up a nation, to invite conqueſt, and only to adorn the victim for its deſtruction.

This conqueſt over Carthage, was ſoon fol⯑lowed by many over other ſtates. Corinth, one of the nobleſt cities of Greece, in the ſame year, ſuſtained the ſame fate, being entered by Mummius the conſul, and levelled to the ground. The pretext for this violence was, that the Achaeans had declared war againſt the Lacedaemonians, who were in alliance with Rome. Metellus the conſul, in conſequence of [310] this, drawing his army into Baeotia, overthrew their general Critolaus, and Mummius ſucceed⯑ing him in the command, overthrew Dicas, the Achean general, and in conſequence entered and demoliſhed Corinth, the ſpoils of which afterwards, not a little contributed to embelliſh Rome. Spain, though at firſt victorious, was ſoon after entirely ſubdued. Viriatus the Spaniſh commander, who, from a ſhepherd became a robber, and from that, a general over a numerous body of men like himſelf, gave the Romans ſome trouble, but was taken off by the baſeſt treachery. Cae⯑pio, the Roman general, having bribed his own ambaſſadors, who were ſent to treat of a peace, to murder their maſter in his bed, upon their return. Quintus Pompeius and Mancianus alſo gained no greater honour, by combating this brave people: they were both obliged, in order to ſave their armies, to make ſo diſadvantageous a treaty, that the ſenate, by a mean ſubterfuge, ſent back Mancianus bound, for concluding upon terms, with which they refuſed to concur. Lepidus alſo was equally unſucceſsful, for ſet⯑ting upon the Vaccaei, an harmleſs and peace⯑able people of that country, he was entirely defeated. At laſt however, Scipio, who had deſtroyed Carthage, (and who now, like the former of that name, was alſo ſurnamed Afri⯑canus) being made conſul, reſtored the for⯑tune of Rome, and laying ſiege to Numantia, [311] the ſtrongeſt city in Spain, the wretched inha⯑bitants, to avoid falling into the hands of the enemy, fired the city over their own heads, and all, to a man, expired in the flames: thus Spain became a province to Rome, and was governed thenceforward by two annual praetors. From this treatment given to the conquered, we ſee how very different the Romans were from their anceſtors, whoſe boaſt it was, to uſe lenity to thoſe whom they had ſubdued. But few nations can withſtand the intoxication of ſucceſs, as they began to conſider the whole world as their own, they reſolved to treat all thoſe who withſtood their arms, not as oppoſers, but revolters.

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

WE have hitherto ſeen this great people, by U. C. 621 ſlow degrees, riſing into power, and at length, reigning without a rival. We have hitherto ſeen all the virtues which give ſtrength and con⯑queſt, one by one, entering into the ſtate, and forming an unconquerable empire. From this time forward, we are to ſurvey a different pic⯑ture; a powerful ſtate, giving admiſſion to all [312] the vices that tend to divide, enſlave, and at laſt, totally deſtroy it. This ſeems to be the great period of Roman power, their conqueſts afterwards, might be more numerous, and their dominions more extenſive, but their ex⯑tenſion was rather an increaſe of glory, than of ſtrength. For a long time, even after the ad⯑miſſion of their vices, the benefits of their for⯑mer virtues continued to operate; but their fu⯑ture triumphs rather ſpread their power, than increaſed it, they rather gave it ſurface than ſo⯑lidity. They now began daily to degenerate from their ancient modeſty, plainneſs, and ſeve⯑rity of life. The triumphs and the ſpoils of Aſia, brought in a taſte for ſplendid expence, and theſe produced avarice and inverted ambition, ſo that from henceforward, the hiſtory ſeems that of another people.

The two Gracchi were the firſt who ſaw this ſtrange corruption among the great, and re⯑ſolved to repreſs it, by renewing the Licinian law, which, as we have ſeen, had enacted, that no perſon in the ſtate ſhould poſſeſs above five hundred acres of land, but that the overplus ſhould become the property of the ſtate. Ti⯑berius Gracchus, the elder of the two, was a perſon very conſiderable both for the advantages of his body, and the qualities of his mind. Very different from Scipio, of whom he was the grandſon, he ſeemed more ambitious of [313] power, than deſirous of glory: he had a mind fonder of embracing novelties, than of advanc⯑ing or ſupporting eſtabliſhments already made: his contempt of money was apparent, and this only ſerved to leſſen his power in a country, that now began to ſet an immoderate value on riches: his compaſſion for the oppreſſed, was equal to his animoſity againſt the oppreſſors: but unhappily his paſſions, rather than his rea⯑ſon, operated even in his purſuits of virtue, and theſe always drove him beyond the line of duty: his deſigns ſeemed, in the main, honeſt, but oppoſition put his intentions into diſorder, and though he began with principles of juſtice, he was at laſt obliged to exchange his rectitude, for his party. This was the diſpoſition of the elder Gracchus, who found the lower part of the people, (for the diſtinction between patrician and plebeian, was now no more) ready to ſe⯑cond all his propoſals. Theſe, after long ſer⯑vices to the ſtate, found themſelves expoſed to the oppreſſions of the rich, who by wreſting the laws, of which they had the management in their own favour, ſeized upon all the pro⯑perty, and left the poor only the danger and fatigue of defending it. Their continual inju⯑ries however, had alienated the hearts of the multitude, which they concealed, or thought it their duty to ſuffer; while the ſenate, unjuſt, corrupt, and mercenary, were only intent on [314] covering their internal meanneſs, by the dignity of their conqueſts abroad. This was the ſtate of parties, when Tiberius Gracchus procured himſelf to be choſen tribune of the people. It was he that had formerly attempted to retrench the power of Scipio Africanus, and had ſet him a day to anſwer before the people; and that now prevailed for preferring the Licinian law, by which it was prohibited, that any perſon ſhould poſſeſs above five hundred acres of land. But willing to prevent this law being wreſted to the advantage of the great, as it had hitherto been, he cauſed it to be enacted alſo, that one half or the illicit ſurplus ſhould be given to the children of the tranſgreſſor, and the other half given to ſuch of the poor as had nothing; and leſt any, by purchaſe, ſhould enlarge their poſ⯑ſeſſions, three officers were appointed, called the Triumviri, who were to determine and examine the quantity of land occupied by every indivi⯑dual. This law, though at firſt carried on with proper moderation, greatly diſguſted the rich, who endeavoured to perſuade the people, that the propoſer only aimed at diſturbing the go⯑vernment, and putting all things into confuſion. But Gracchus, who was a man of the greateſt eloquence of his time, eaſily wiped off theſe impreſſions, from minds already irritated with their wrongs▪ and beſides, willing enough to for⯑ward a law, by which they were to be the only [315] gainers. But while the poor were eager for paſſing this law, the rich were equally ſtrenuous in oppoſing it. What was in the beginning but debate, by degrees grew into enmity, and the oppoſition ſeemed to kindle as it proceeded. Octavius, one of the tribunes who oppoſed the law, was partly by art, and partly by violence, obliged to reſign, while Mummius, who was in the oppoſite confederacy, was elected tribune in his ſtead. The death of Attalus, king of Per⯑gamus, furniſhed Tiberius Gracchus with a new opportunity of gratifying the meaner part of the people, at the expence of the great. This king had by his laſt will left the Romans his he rs, and it was now propoſed, that the mo⯑ney ſo left, ſhould be divided among the poor, in order to furniſh them with proper utenſils for cultivating the lands which became theirs by the late law of partition. This cauſed ſtill greater diſturbances than before: the ſenate aſ⯑ſembled upon this occaſion, in order to conſult the moſt proper methods of ſecuring theſe riches to themſelves, which they now valued above the ſafety of the commonwealth: they had nume⯑merous dependants, who were willing to give up liberty for plenty and eaſe: theſe therefore, were commanded to to be in readineſs, to in⯑timidate the people, who expected no ſuch op⯑poſition, and who were now attending to the harrangue of Tiberius Gracchus in the Capitol. [316] Here, as a clamour was raiſed by the clients of the great on one ſide, and by the favourers of the law on the other, Tiberius found his ſpeech intirely interrupted, and begged in vain to be attended to, till at laſt, raiſing his hand to his head, to intimate that his life was in dan⯑ger, the partizans of the ſenate gave out, that he wanted a diadem. In conſequence of this, an univerſal uproar now ſpread itſelf through all ranks of people; the corrupt part of the ſe⯑nate were of opinion, that the conſul ſhould defend the commonwealth by force of arms; but this prudent magiſtrate declining ſuch violence, Scipio Naſica, kinſman to Gracchus, roſe up, and preparing himſelf for the conteſt, deſired that all who would defend the dignity and the authority of the laws, ſhould follow him. Upon this, attended by a large body of ſenators and clients, armed with clubs, he went directly up to the Capitol, ſtriking down all who ventured to reſiſt. Gracchus perceiving by the tumult, that his life was ſought for, endeavoured to fly, and throwing aſide his robe to expedite his eſ⯑cape, attempted to get through the throng, but happening to fall over a perſon already on the ground, Saturinus, one of his colleagues in the tribuneſhip, who was of the oppoſite faction, ſtruck him dead with a piece of a ſeat; and not leſs than three hundred of his hearers ſhared the ſame fate, being killed in the tumult. Nor [317] did the vengeance of the ſenate reſt here, but extended to numbers of thoſe who ſeemed to eſpouſe his cauſe, many of them were put to death, many were baniſhed, and nothing was omitted to inſpire the people with an abhor⯑rence for his pretended crimes.

Theſe diſſenſions, though for a little while interrupted by a victory gained by Ariſtonicus, baſtard brother to the late king of Pergamus, and pretender to his crown, over the Roman conſul, Licinius Craſſus, were ſoon renewed again. For Ariſtonicus being overthrown by Perpenna, the conſul, then beſieged in Strato⯑nice, and compelled by famine to ſurrender, was, after gracing the conqueror's triumph, ſtrangled in priſon by order of the ſenate, which afforded an opportunity to the people, for re⯑newing the former animoſities, headed by Caius Gracchus, the brother of him who was ſlain.

Caius Gracchus was but twenty-one upon the death of his brother Tiberius, and as he was too young to be much dreaded by the great, ſo he was at firſt unwilling to incur their reſent⯑ment, by aims beyond his reach; he therefore lived in retirement, unſeen and almoſt forgot⯑ten. But while he thus ſeemed deſirous of avoiding popularity, he was employing his ſo⯑litude in the ſtudy of eloquence, which was the readieſt means to obtain it: at length, when he [318] thought himſelf qualified to ſerve his country, he offered himſelf candidate for the queſtorſhip to the army in Sardinia, which he readily ob⯑tained. His valour, affability, and temperance in this office was remarked by all. The king of Numidia ſending a preſent of corn to the Ro⯑mans, ordered his ambaſſadors to ſay, that it was entirely as a tribute to the virtues of Caius Grac⯑chus. This the ſenate treated with ſcorn, and ordered the ambaſſadors to be diſmiſſed with contempt, as ignorant barbarians, which ſo in⯑flamed the reſentment of young Gracchus, that he immediately came from the army, to com⯑plain of the indignity thrown upon his reputa⯑tion, and to offer himſelf for tribune of the people It was then that the great found in this youth, who had been hitherto neglected upon account of his age, a more formidable an⯑tagoniſt, than even his brother had been; his eloquence againſt the calumnies which were laid to his charge, exceeded whatever had been heard in Rome, and his intrepidity in ſupport⯑ing his pretenſions equalied the reſt of his vir⯑tues. Notwithſtanding the warmeſt oppoſition from the ſenate, he was declared tribune, by a very large majority, and he now prepared to run the ſame career which his brother had gone before him.

His firſt effort was to have Popilius, one of the moſt inveterate of his brother's enemies, [319] cited before the the people, who, rather than ſtand the event of a trial, choſe to go into vo⯑luntary baniſhment. He next procured an edict, granting the freedom of the city to the inhabi⯑tants of Latium, and ſoon after, to all the peo⯑ple on that ſide the Alps. He afterwards fixed the price of corn to a moderate ſtandard, and procured a monthly diſtribution of it among the people. He then proceeded to an inſpection into the late corruptions of the ſenate, in which the whole body being convicted of bribery, ex⯑tortion, and the ſale of offices, for at that time a total degeneracy ſeemed to have taken place, a law was made, transferring the power of judging corrupt magiſtrates, from the ſenate to the knights, which made a great alteration in the conſtitution. The number of theſe officers, thus placed as inſpectors over the conduct of all the other magiſtrates of the ſtate, amounted to three hundred, and they were choſen from among the friends of Gracchus. Thus, ever at⯑tentive to the good of the commonwealth, he ordered the highways to be improved and adorn⯑ed; he cauſed public granaries to be built, and ſtored with grain againſt times of ſcarcity; and to give a pattern of juſtice to the people, he cauſed large quantities of corn, which Fabius the propraetor in Spain had extorted from his government, and had preſented as a largeſs to the people, to be ſold, and the money re⯑mitted [320] to the injured owners. In ſhort, on whatever ſide we view the character of this great man, we ſhall find him juſt, temperate, wiſe, active, and ſeemingly, born to reſtore the an⯑cient ſimplicity of Rome. However, hiſtorians pretend to aſſert, that all his aims were to extend his own power, and that all his virtues were but the children of his ambition. Theſe aſſertions however, do not ſeem verified in any of the actions of his life, which they have recorded; however, it is not for the moderns to diſpute with ancient hiſtorians upon characters of antiquity; they knew beſt the men of their own times, and per⯑haps, have often condemned them in the groſs for defects, which they thought not worth while to mention in the detail.

Gracchus, by theſe means being grown not only very popular, but very powerful in the ſtate, was become an object, at which the ſenate aimed all their reſentment. At firſt, they ſeem⯑ed to wait only till his tribuneſhip expired, in order to wreck their vengeance with ſafety, but contrary to their expectations, he was choſen a ſecond time to that office, though without the leaſt efforts on his ſide to get himſelf re-elected. They now therefore reſolved to alter their me⯑thod of proceeding, and endeavoured to oppoſe his popularity by ſetting up a rival. This was Druſus his colleague, who ſeemed to go even beyond Gracchus in every propoſal, and being [321] ſecretly backed by the ſenate, ſo far ſucceeded in his ſchemes, as to divide the affections of the people. The jealouſy of Gracchus on this oc⯑caſion, quickly blazed out, he treated his col⯑league with contempt, and as the ſenate fore⯑ſaw, it cauſed a very powerful party of his former admirers, now to declare againſt him. But the greateſt effort to undo him was yet in re⯑ſerve. For from the time of his return to Rome from Sardinia, he had been elected one of the Triumviri, an office, which as I have mentioned before, was appointed by his brother Tiberius, to determine the quantity of land poſſeſſed by each individual in the ſtate. In this employ⯑ment Gracchus ſhewed himſelf extremely aſſi⯑duous, and impreſſed with the ſame ſpirit of equality that inſpired his brother, endeavoured to regulate each man's poſſeſſions, according to the Licinian law, with inflexible juſtice. Thoſe who thought themſelves aggrieved by his ſeve⯑rity, had recourſe to Scipio Africanus for re⯑dreſs. Scipio, who had been long an enemy to this law, was too ſenſible of the people's power, to oppoſe it directly, but proceeding with more art, obtained a new officer to be choſen, whoſe buſineſs it was to ſettle the claims of indivi⯑duals amongſt each other, before thoſe of the publick could be determined by the Triumviri. For this purpoſe, Tuditanus the conſul was choſen, who thus having a power of protract⯑ing [322] the wiſhed-for diviſion of lands, for a while, ſeemed to bend aſſiduouſly to the buſineſs for which he was choſen. However, when he could no longer defer the ſettlement of the lands in queſtion, he pretended to be called off to quell an inſurrection in one of the provinces, and thus left the claims and the wiſhes of the people undecided. An univerſal murmur now there⯑fore roſe againſt Scipio, by whoſe arts the exe⯑cution of the law was protracted, and one of the tribunes even cited him to appear, and give an account how Tiberius Gracchus came to be ſlain. Scipio however, diſdained to anſwer the charge, but went home, as ſome thought, to meditate a ſpeech for the enſuing day, but in the morning he was found dead in his bed, and by a mark round his neck, it appeared that he was ſtrangled. The death of this great man produced much ſuſpicion againſt the leaders of the popular party, but Gracchus particularly came in for the greateſt ſhare. He however, diſdained to vindicate himſelf from a crime, of which there were no proofs againſt him; but willing to turn the thoughts of the people an⯑other way, propoſed the rebuilding of Carthage, and peopling it from Rome. This ſcheme was gladly embraced by the people, and ſix thou⯑ſand families, with Gracchus at their head, left the city, in order to ſettle there. However, they had ſcarce begun to clear away the rubbiſh, [323] when they were diſturbed by ſeveral omens, which to a ſuperſtitious people, was ſufficient to check the progreſs of every undertaking. But much more powerful motives called Gracchus back to Rome, for his enemies, during his ab⯑ſence, uſed all their art to blacken his character, ſo that he found himſelf obliged to return, in order to ſupport his party, and remove thoſe prejudices which had been formed in the minds of the people to his diſadvantage. But he ſoon found the populace a faithleſs and unſteady ſupport, they began to withdraw all their confi⯑dence from him, and to place it upon Druſus, whoſe character was unimpeached. It was in vain, that he deſigned new laws in their favour, and called up ſeveral of the inhabitants of the different towns of Italy to his ſupport, the ſe⯑nate ordered them all to depart Rome, and even ſent one ſtranger to priſon whom Gracchus had invited to live with him, and honoured with his table and friendſhip. To this indignity was ſhortly after added a diſgrace of a more fatal tendency, for ſtanding for the tribuneſhip a third time, he was rejected, it being ſuppoſed, that the officers whoſe duty it was to make the [...]eturn, were bribed to reject him, though fairly choſen.

The ſenate no ſooner ſaw Gracchus reduced to a private ſtation, than they determined to de⯑ſtroy him, and deputed Opimius the conſul, [324] who was his mortal enemy, to be the inſtru⯑ment of their malignity againſt him. The con⯑ſul, who, beſide the greateſt pride, was poſ⯑ſeſſed of the utmoſt cruelty, undertook the of⯑fice with great readineſs, and firſt annulled thoſe laws, which were made for eſtabliſhing a colony at Carthage. He then proceeded to abrogate all the other laws which had been made during his two tribuneſhips, and ſet a day for a general aſſembly of the people for that purpoſe.

It was now ſeen, that the fate of Gracchus was reſolved on. The conſul was not contented with the protection of all the ſenate and the knights, with a numerous retinue of ſlaves and clients, but ordered a body of Candians, that were mercenaries in the Roman ſervice, to fol⯑low and attend him. Thus guarded, and con⯑ſcious of the ſuperiority of his forces, he inſult⯑ted Gracchus wherever he met him, doing all in his power to produce a quarrel, in which he might have a pretence of diſpatching his enemy in the fray. Gracchus however, avoided all re⯑crimination, and as if apprized of the conſul's deſigns, would not even wear any kind of arms for his defence. His friend Flaccus however, a zealous tribune, was not ſo remiſs, but reſolved to oppoſe party againſt party, and for this pur⯑poſe brought up ſeveral countrymen to Rome, who came under a pretence of deſiring employ⯑ment. [325] When the day for determining the contro⯑verſy was arrived, the two parties, early in the morning, attended at the Capitol, where while the conſul was ſacrificing, according to cuſtom, one of the lictors taking up the entrails of the beaſt that was ſlain, in order to remove them, could not forbear crying out to Fulvius and his party, ‘"You, ye factious citizens, make way for honeſt men."’ This inſult ſo provoked the party to whom it was addreſſed, that they inſtantly fell upon him, and pierced him to death with the inſtruments they uſed in writing, which they then happened to have in their hands. This murder cauſed a great diſturbance in the aſſembly, but particularly Gracchus, who ſaw the conſequences that were likely to enſue, reprimanded his party for giving his enemies ſuch advantage over him; he made many at⯑tempts to ſpeak, but could not be heard by rea⯑ſon of the tumult, wherefore he was at laſt obliged to retire homewards, and wait the event. As he was going through the Forum, he ſtopped before a ſtatue that was raiſed to his father's memory, and regarding it for ſome time, he burſt into a flood of tears, as if de⯑ploring the ſpirit of the times. His followers were not leſs moved than he, and all joining in the ſorrow, vowed never to abandon a man whoſe only crime was his affection to his coun⯑try. In the mean time, the ſenate took every [326] method to allarm the city, and encreaſe their apprehenſions of the danger. The conſul was directed, that the commonwealth ſhould receive no injury, by which form they inveſted him upon this ſlight occaſion, with abſolute and un⯑controulable power. The dead lictor's corſe was carried in triumph through the ſtreets, and expoſed to view before the ſenate-houſe, and the whole body of the nobles received orders, to be in arms the next day, with their ſlaves and dependants, upon Mount Aventine. On the other ſide, Flaccus was ſedulouſly employed in getting together the remains of his ſhattered partiſans; but it was not at preſent as in the former commotions of the commonwealth, when the plebeians were to be excited agaiſt the patricians, for thoſe diſtinctions were long bro⯑ken down; it was now only an oppoſition be⯑tween the poor and the rich, and the depreſſed party were of conſequence timorous and uncon⯑nected, as if already humbled by their impe⯑rious maſters. Gracchus, who eaſily foreſaw his weakneſs, was however reſolved not to abandon his friends, though he knew them to be unable to reſiſt his opponents. Notwithſtand⯑ing, he refuſed to go armed as the reſt, but taking his uſual robe, and a ſhort dagger for his defence, in caſe of being attacked, he pre⯑pared to lead his followers to Mount Aventine. It was there he learned, that proclamation had [327] been made by the conſuls, that whoever ſhould bring either his head, or that of Flaccus, ſhould receive its weight in gold for the reward. It was to no purpoſe, that he ſent the youngeſt ſon of Flaccus, who was yet a child, with pro⯑poſals for an accommodation. The ſenate and the conſuls, who were ſenſible of their ſuperi⯑ority, rejected all his offers, and reſolved to puniſh his offence with nothing leſs than his death; and in order to weaken his party, they offered pardon to all who ſhould leave him im⯑mediately. This produced the deſired effect, the people fell from him by degrees, and left him with very inferior forces. He now therefore, reſolved to wait upon the ſenate in perſon, but his friends would not permit him, through an apprehenſion of loſing their com⯑mander. The child of Flaccus was there⯑fore ſent once more to demand peace; but Opi⯑mius the conſul, who thirſted for ſlaughter, or⯑dered it to priſon, and leading his forces up to Mount Aventine, fell in among the crowd with ungovernable fury. A terrible ſlaughter of the ſcarce reſiſting multitude enſued, not leſs than three thouſand citizens were ſlain upon the ſpot. Flaccus attempted to find ſhelter in a ru⯑inous cottage, but being diſcovered, was ſlain, with his eldeſt ſon. Gracchus, at firſt, retired to the temple of Diana, where he was reſolved to die by his own hand, but was prevented by two [328] of his faithful friends and followers, Pompo⯑nius and Licinius, who forced him to ſeek ſafety by flight. From thence he made the beſt of his way in order to croſs a bridge, that led from the city, ſtill attended by his two generous friends, and a Grecian ſlave, whoſe name was Philocrates. But his purſuers ſtill preſſed upon him from behind, and when come to the foot of the bridge, he was obliged to turn and face the enemy. His two friends were ſoon ſlain, defending him againſt the crowd, and he forced with his ſlave into a grove beyond the Tyber, which had long been dedicated to the Furies. Here finding himſelf ſurrounded on every ſide, and no way left of eſcaping, he pre⯑vailed upon his ſlave to kill him, who immedi⯑ately after killed himſelf, and fell down dead upon the body of his beloved maſter. The purſuers ſoon coming up, cut off the head of Gracchus, and placed it for a while as a trophy, upon a ſpear. Soon after, one Septimuleius carrying it home, firſt having ſecretly taken out the brain, filled it with lead, in order to make it weigh the heavier, and thus received of the conſul ſeven⯑teen pounds of gold as his recompence.

Thus died Caius Gracchus, about ten years after his brother Tiberius, and ſix after he began to be active in the commonwealth. He is uſually impeached by hiſtorians, as guilty of ſedition, but from what we ſee of his character, [329] the diſturbance of public tranquility, was rather owing to his oppoſers, than to him, ſo that in⯑ſtead of calling the tumults of that time, the ſedition of the Gracchi, we ſhould rather call them the ſedition of the ſenate againſt the Grac⯑chi, ſince the efforts of the latter were made in vindication of a law, to which the ſenate had aſſented, and as the former were ſupported by a foreign armed power, that had never before meddled in the buſineſs of legiſlation, and whoſe introduction at that time, gave a moſt ir⯑recoverable blow to the conſtitution. Whether the Gracchi were actuated by motives of ambi⯑tion or of patriotiſm, in the promulgation of theſe laws, it is impoſſible to determine, but certain it is from what appears, that all juſtice was on their ſide, and all injury on that of the ſenate. In fact, this body was now quite changed from that venerable aſſembly, which we have ſeen overthrowing Pyrrhus and Hannibal, as much by their virtues, as their arms. They were now only to be diſtinguiſhed from the reſt of the people by their ſuperior luxuries, and ruled the commonwealth by the weight of that authority, which is gained from riches, and a number of mercenary dependancies. All the venal and the baſe were attached to them from motives of ſelf-intereſt, and they who ſtill ven⯑tured to be independant, were borne down, and entirely loſt in the infamous majority. In ſhort, [330] the empire, at this period, came under the go⯑vernment of an hateful ariſtocracy; the tri⯑bunes, who were formerly accounted protectors of the people, becoming rich themſelves, and having no longer oppoſite intereſts from thoſe of the ſenate, concurred in their oppreſſions, ſince, as has been ſaid, it was not now the ſtruggle be⯑tween patricians and plebeians, who only nomi⯑nally differed, but between the rich and the poor. The lower orders of the ſtate being by theſe means reduced to a degree of hopeleſs ſubjec⯑tion, inſtead of looking after liberty, only ſought for a leader; while the rich, with all the ſuſpicion of tyrants, terrified at the ſlighteſt ap⯑pearance of oppoſition, entruſted men with un⯑controulable power, from whom they had not ſtrength to withdraw it, when the danger was over. Thus both parts of the ſtate concurred in giving up their freedom; the fears of the ſenate firſt made the dictator, and the hatred of the people kept him in his office. Nothing can be more dreadful to a thinking mind than the go⯑vernment of Rome from this period, till it [...]ound refuge under the protection of Auguſtus.

CHAP. XIX. From the ſedition of Gracchus to the perpetual dic⯑tatorſhip of Sylla, which was the firſt ſtep towards the ruin of the commonwealth of Rome.

WHILE the Romans were in this ſtate of deplorable corruption at home, they neverthe⯑leſs were very ſucceſsful in their tranſactions with regard to foreign powers. The ſenate, though corrupt fathers of the commonwealth, were ſkillful conductors of the empire, ſo that Rome. while ſhe was loſing liberty, was every day gaining new territories. The Bal [...]aric Iſlands were ſubdued. The Allobroges, who inhabited the country now called Savoy, were conquered by Domitius Aenobarbus and an⯑nexed to the empire. Gallia Narbonenſis was alſo reduced into a province. The Scordici, a U. C. 634 people inhabiting Thrace, though at firſt ſuc⯑ceſsful, were at laſt overcome: and Jugurtha, king of Numidia, was totally overthrown: the war with this monarch having been related by the moſt elegant hiſtorian of antiquity, makes it incumbent upon us to give it greater room in this general picture of hiſtory, than the import⯑ance of the ſubject might ſeem to demand.

[332] Jug [...]ha was grandſon to the famous Maſſi⯑niſſa, who ſided againſt Hannibal with Rome. He was educated with the two young princes, who were left to inherit the kingdom, and be⯑ing ſuperior in abilities to both, and greatly in favour with the people, he murdered Hiempſal, the eldeſt ſon, and attempted the ſame by Ad⯑herbal the younger, who made his eſcape, and fled to the Romans for ſuccour. Whereupon, Jugurtha being ſenſible how much avarice and injuſtice had crept into the ſenate, ſent his am⯑baſſadors with large preſents to Rome, who ſo ſucceſsfully prevailed, that the ſenate decreed him half the kingdom, which he had thus acquired by murder and uſurpation, and ſent ten commiſ⯑ſioners to divide it between him and Adherbal. The commiſſioners, of whom Opimius the mur⯑derer of Gracchus was one, willing to follow the example which the ſenate had ſet them, were alſo bribed to beſtow the moſt rich and populous part of the kingdom upon the uſurper, who however reſolved to poſſeſs himſelf of the whole. But willing to give a colour to his ambition, he only made in the beginning incurſions upon his colleague's territories, in order to provoke re⯑priſals, which he knew how to convert into ſeem⯑ing aggreſſion, in caſe it came before the ſenate. This however failing, he reſolved to throw off the maſk, and beſieging Adherbal in Cirta, his capital, he at length got him into his power and [333] murdered him. The people of Rome, [...]ho had ſtill ſome generoſity remaining, unanimouſly complained of this treachery; the ſenate only, who had been bribed to ſilence, continued for a while in ſuſpenſe. However, a conſul was ſent, at laſt, with a powerful army, to oppoſe him, but he being alſo infected with the avarice of the times, ſuffered himſelf to be bribed, and ſuſpending his operations, made overtures for peace. The people therefore, now more enraged than before, procured a decree, that Jugurtha ſhould be ſum⯑moned in perſon before them, upon the public faith of the ſtate, in order to give an account of all ſuch as had accepted bribes. Jugurtha made no great difficulty in throwing himſelf upon the clemency of Rome, and ſoon after appeared before the people in an imploring manner, and in a dreſs correſponding with his ſituation. However, inſtead of diſcovering thoſe who were bribed, he only ſet about renewing the evil complained of, and being ſenſible, that all opi⯑nions were venal at Rome, without much en⯑deavouring to influence any by the juſtice of his cauſe, he took the more certain method of intereſting them, by the diſtribution of [...]is riches. Wherefore, when brought to be ex⯑amined by the people, concerning his unjuſt method of obtaining the protection of the ma⯑giſtrates, who were ſent to oppoſe him, Bebius, one of the tribunes, who had been himſelf cor⯑rupted, [334] enjoined him ſilence, ſo that the long⯑wiſhed-for diſcovery was protracted. The peo⯑ple thus ſeeing no hopes of expoſing and pu⯑niſhing their corrupt magiſtrates, put no bounds to their reſentment, and conceived an implaca⯑ble enmity againſt the ſenate, which, as it was juſt, was the more laſting. In the mean time, Jugurtha being ordered to quit Rome, obeyed. However, he could not repreſs a ſarcaſm againſt its venality, as he took leave, for looking back upon the city, as he paſt through one of the gates, ‘"O Rome, cried he, how readily wouldſt thou ſell thyſelf, if there were any man rich enough to be the purchaſer."’ As he had come to Rome upon the faith of the ſtate, ſo that pro⯑tected him till he arrived at his own dominions; but in the mean time, Albinus the conſul was ſent with an army to follow him. The firſt operations of the Roman general were attended with ſucceſs, and Jugurtha finding his own in⯑ability to oppoſe him in the field, ſet about circumventing him in the cabinet. New pro⯑poſals for peace were made on his ſide; he was every day offering himſelf up as a priſoner, and yet every day ſecuring his power in the ſtate. Albinus thus ſaw himſelf perplexed by treaties, which he could not comprehend, and the time of his command almoſt inſenſibly elapſed, with⯑out having ſtruck any important blow. Being obliged to return, to attend the election of ma⯑giſtrates [335] at Rome, he left the direction of the army to Aulus, his brother, a perſon every way unqualified for the command. His avarice induced him to lay ſiege to Suthul, a place al⯑moſt impregnable by nature, and only inviting the enemy, becauſe it contained the treaſure of the king. Jugurtha, conſcious of the ſtrength of the place, ſuffered Aulus to amuſe himſelf before it, and at one time pretending fear, at another, offering terms of accommodation, but ſtill laviſhing his bribes even to the meaneſt centurion, he led his antagoniſt into ſuch ſtraits, that he was compelled to hazard a battle upon diſadvantageous terms, and his whole army, to avoid being cut to pieces, was obliged to paſs under the yoke. In this condition, Metellus, the ſucceeding conſul, found affairs, upon his arrival in Numidia. Officers without confidence, an army without diſcipline, and an enemy ever watchful, and ever intriguing. However, by his great attention to buſineſs, and by an integrity, that ſhuddered at corruption, he ſoon began to retrieve the affairs of Rome, and the credit of the army. In the ſpace of two years, Jugurtha was overthrown in ſeveral battles, forced out of his own dominions, and conſtrained to beg a peace. This, Metellus offered to grant, upon condition, that he ſhould firſt deliver up his elephants and arms. With this the Numidian prince complied, and they were delivered up [336] accordingly. He was then commanded to pay two hundred thouſand pound weight of ſilver to defray the war: this was immediately paid down. The deſerters were next ordered to be given up: this too was complied with. At length, the Roman general inſiſted, that Jugur⯑tha ſhould come and ſurrender in perſon, and put himſelf upon his trial at Rome. With this he refuſed to comply, and thus the treaty be⯑ing broken, both ſides reſolved once more to tempt the hazards of the war. All things how⯑ever, promiſed Metellus an eaſy and a certain victory; the enemy was almoſt entirely ſubdued; few cities remained that could make reſiſtance, and all the wiles of the Numidian were exhauſted with his treaſures. It only remained, towards concluding the war in triumph, that Metellus ſhould be choſen conſul once more, but in this he was diſappointed, and another general came in, to reap that harveſt of glory which his induſtry had ſown. This was Caius Marius, who had been ſent with him as his lieutenant in the war. This commander, who became afterwards the glory and the ſcourge of Rome, was born in a village near Arpinium, of poor parents, who gained their living by their labour. As he had been bred up in a participation of their toils, his manners were as rude, as his countenance was frightful. He was a man of extraordinary ſtature, incomparable ſtrength, and undaunted [337] bravery. He entered early into the ſervice of his country, and was, from the beginning, re⯑markable for his exact obſervance of diſcipline, and his implicit obedience to thoſe in command. He ſought upon every occaſion, dangers equal to his courage; the longeſt marches, and the moſt painful fatigues of war, were eaſy to one bred up in penury and labour. He was not more averſe to the allurements of pleaſure, from habit, than by nature. He took all occaſions to inſpire temperance by his example; eat the ſame bread which was diſtributed to the meaneſt centinel; lay upon the ground; dreſſed in the coarſeſt garments, and ſeemed dead to every other paſſion, but that of ambition and re⯑venge. He had already paſſed through the meaner gradations of office, and each ſeemed conferred on him, as the reward of ſome ſignal exploit. When he ſtood for the office of mili⯑tary tribune, though his perſon was unknown, his actions were in the mouths of the multi⯑tude. When elected to that charge, his gene⯑ral found his merit and aſſiſtance ſo great, that he ſeconded him with his intereſt, in procuring him to be made a tribune of the people. It was in this ſtation, that his ambition began to appear, and his thorough deteſtation of the ſe⯑nate, whoſe vices indeed deſerved his reproaches, became conſpicuous. Not to be intimidated by their threats, he boldly arraigned their corruption [338] even in the ſenate-houſe, and when Metellus, who till then had patronized and raiſed him, diſ⯑approved his zeal, he even threatened to commit him to priſon. However, being afterwards ſent under him as his lieutenant into Numidia, Me⯑tellus preferred the intereſt of his country to pri⯑vate reſentment, and truſted Marius with the moſt important concerns of the war. This confidence was not miſplaced, Marius acquitted himſelf in every action with ſuch prudence and reſolution, that he was conſidered at Rome, as ſecond in com⯑mand, but firſt in experience and reſolution. It was in this ſituation of affairs, that Metellus, as has been ſaid, was obliged to ſollicit at Rome for a continuation of his command; but Ma⯑rius, whoſe ambition knew no bounds, was re⯑ſolved to obtain it for himſelf, and thus gain all the glory of putting an end to the war. To that end he privately inveighed againſt Metel⯑lus by his emiſſaries at Rome. He inſinuated among the people, that the war was prolonged, only to lengthen out the conſul's command, and aſſerted, that he was able, with half the army, to make Jugurtha a priſoner; engaging alſo, in a ſingle campaign, to bring him dead or alive to Rome. By ſuch profeſſions as theſe, having excited a ſpirit of diſcontent againſt Metellus, he had leave granted him to go to Rome, to ſtand for the conſulſhip himſelf, [339] which he obtained, contrary to the expectation and intereſt of the nobles.

Marius being thus inveſted with the ſupreme power of managing the war, ſhewed himſelf every way fit for the commiſſion. His vigi⯑lance was equal to his valour, and he quickly made himſelf maſter of the cities which Ju⯑gurtha had yet remaining in Numidia. This unfortunate prince finding himſelf unable to make oppoſition ſingly, was obliged to have recourſe for aſſiſtance, to Bocchus, king of Mau⯑ritania, to whoſe daughter he was married. A battle ſoon after enſued, in which the Numi⯑dians ſurprized the Roman camp by night, and gained a temporary advantage. However, it was but of ſhort continuance, for Marius ſoon after overthrew them in two ſignal engage⯑ments, in one of which, not leſs than ninety thouſand of the African army were ſlain. Boc⯑chus now finding the Romans too powerful to be reſiſted, did not think it expedient to haz⯑ard his own crown, to protect that of his ally; he therefore determined to make peace, upon whatever conditions he might obtain it, and accordingly ſent to Rome, imploring its pro⯑tection and friendſhip. The ſenate received the ambaſſadors with their uſual haughtineſs, and without complying with their requeſt, granted the ſuppliants, not their friendſhip but their pardon. However, they were [340] given to underſtand, that the delivering up of Jugurtha to the Romans, would in ſome meaſure conciliate their favour, and ſoften their reſent⯑ment. At firſt the pride of Bocchus ſtruggled againſt ſuch a propoſal, but a few interviews with Sylla, who was quaeſtor to Marius, reconciled him to this treacherous meaſure. At length therefore, Jugurtha was given up, being drawn into an ambuſcade, by the ſpecious pretences of his ally, who deluded him by deſiring a con⯑ference, and he was brought over by Marius to Rome. He did not long ſurvive his overthrow, being condemned by the ſenate to be ſtarved to death in priſon, a ſhort time after he had adorned the triumph of the conqueror. His own cruelty, in ſome meaſure, deſerved this fate, but they muſt be doubly cruel, who could thus oblige a priſoner, whom they reſolved to put to death, to encreaſe the ſplendor of a proceſſion, and thus find delight in his diſtreſs.

This victory over Jugurtha had been ſcarce obtained, when news was brought to Rome, that immenſe numbers of barbarians from the north, were pouring down into the Roman do⯑minions, and were threatening Italy itſelf with ſlaughter and deſolation. Marius was now looked upon as the only perſon who could op⯑poſe them, and he was accordingly made conſul a ſecond time, contray to the conſtitutions of the ſtate, which required an interval of ten years [341] between each conſulſhip. The people he was to oppoſe, were the Cimbri and Teutones, who left their foreſts, to the number of three hundred thouſand men, in order to ſeek new habitations in the fruitful vallies of Italy. They had, ſome time before, invaded Gaul, where they had committed great ravages, and defeated many Roman armies that were ſent againſt them. Marius however, was entirely ſucceſsful. He at firſt declined fighting, till their force was weakened by delay, but afterwards engaging them as they were paſſing the Alps, in three ſeperate bodies, a bloody battle enſued, which laſted two days. In this the Romans were vic⯑torious, and Theutobocchus, the king of the Teutones, taken priſoner, with the loſs of an hundred and fifty thouſand men. But though the Teutones were thus utterly deſtroyed, the army of the Cimbri ſtill remained entire, and had actually paſt the Alps, after having put Catulus, the Roman conſul to flight. Marius however, being made conſul a fifth time (for the people had continued him in office during the former part of the war) met and gave them a dreadful overthrow. An hundred and forty thouſand of theſe barbarians were ſlain, and ſixty thouſand taken priſoners. Their wives, during the engagement, fought furiouſly in chariots, and at laſt, when they ſaw the fortune of the field [342] decided, ſlew their children, and then with deſperate intrepidity, deſtroyed each other.

Marius, by theſe victories, having become very formidable to diſtant nations in war, be⯑came ſoon after much more dangerous to his fellow citizens in peace. Metellus, from being his firſt patron and promoter, was long grown hateful to him, for his ſuperior influence in the ſenate, ſo that he earneſtly wiſhed to have him baniſhed from Rome. To effect this, he em⯑ployed one Saturninus, who had unjuſtly poſ⯑ſeſſed himſelf of the tribuneſhip, to prefer a law for the partition of ſuch lands as had been recovered in the late war, and to oblige the ſe⯑nators to take a ſolemn oath for putting it into execution, in caſe it was paſt. The law was ſoon enacted by the intereſt of Marius, but when the ſenate came to confirm the obſervance of it, Metellus, who conſidered it as a renewal of the ancient diſturbances that had been ſo fatal to the conſtitution, endeavoured to perſuade them to reject the meaſure with diſdain. At firſt they ſeemed inclined to come into his advice, but the influence of his rival being ſuperior, they were content to ſwear, and Metellus refuſing, was ob⯑liged to go into voluntary exile. He was re⯑ceived with great reſpect by all the cities through which he paſſed, and taking up his reſidence in the Iſland of Rhodes, he there ſeemed to forget that he was great, and only ſtudied to be happy.

[343] This ſucceſs only ſerved to encreaſe the arro⯑gance of Saturninus. Being made tribune a third time, he filled the city with clamour and and commotion. Memmius, who was of the oppoſite party, was killed in one of theſe frays, as he canvaſſed for the conſulſhip, and Glaucius the praetor, was tumultuouſly choſen in his ſtead. This ſeemed as a ſignal for a general encounter. The ſenate ſeemed reſolved to curb the inſolence of the tribunes: the conſuls were ordered, as in dangerous times, to provide for the ſafety of the commonwealth, and Marius, who was one of them, found himſelf in the diſa⯑greeable ſituation, of heading a ſtrong body of the ſenators and patricians, againſt thoſe very people, whom his own intrigues had put into commotion. Saturninus and his followers were forced into the capitol, where for want of wa⯑ter, they were compelled to yield, after Marius had paſſed his word for their ſafety. But he was now unable to protect them, a large body of Roman knights broke into the Forum, and cut them to pieces, while the prevailing party, elate with their ſucceſs, recalled Metellus from exile.

Marius being thus doubly mortified by the demolition of his party, and the revocation of his rival, left Rome, under pretence of per⯑forming a vow, but in reality, with hopes of kindling up new wars in Aſia, in which only, his military talents could have room for diſplay. [344] With this view, he went to the court of Mithri⯑dates, at that time the moſt powerful monarch of the Eaſt, hoping either to be diſmiſſed with ſcorn, or received with hoſpitality. In either caſe he expected to find his account, if diſmiſſed, it would give a colour for declaring war againſt him; if received, he would be in a better con⯑dition to judge of the ſtrength of his enemy. Mithridates received him with great kindneſs, and diſmiſſed him loaden with preſents to Rome.

In the mean time, the ſtrength which Ma⯑rius had given the popular party, was not to be deſtroyed by a ſingle blow: Druſus the tribune, whom we have ſeen oppoſing the popularity of Gracchus, ſeemed now determined to purſue his example. This well-meaning man finding the ſenators diſpleaſed with the judicial power which had been conſigned over to the knights, and per⯑ceiving the latter alſo making a very tyrannical uſe of their authority, he conceived a deſign of conciliating both, by reſtoring the ſenate to its ancient privileges, and raiſing a large number of the equeſtrian order into that body. How⯑ever, what he expected would pleaſe both, was diſliked by all: the ſenate was againſt having their number enlarged; the knights were averſe to loſing their privileges, and the people were diſpleaſed at having the law of Gracchus brought into danger. In order therefore to [345] gain that popularity which he found he had loſt by this meaſure, he once again threatened the great with the revival of the Licinian law; and that the allies and confederates of Italy, who were the preſent poſſeſſors, might ſhare an equivalent, to what this law was likely to deprive them of, he gave them hopes of being admit⯑ted to the freedom of Rome. Theſe promi⯑ſes did not fail to produce their effect; the Latin towns now began to look upon him as their protector, and came in vaſt crowds to the city, to ſupport him. Great contentions aroſe in conſequence of his endeavours. De⯑liberation had now been long baniſhed from the aſſemblies of the people; the whole of their laws were enacted or rejected by clamour, violence and ſedition. On one of theſe occa⯑ſions, Druſus being warmly engaged in promot⯑ing the law for enlarging the freedom of the city, he was ſtabbed by an unknown perſon, who left his poignard in the wound: Druſus had juſt ſtrength enough to avow with his dying breath, the integrity of his intentions, and that there was no man in the commonwealth, more ſin⯑ecrely attached to its intereſts than he.

The Italians being thus fruſtrated in their aims of gaining the freedom of Rome, by the death of Druſus, reſolved upon obtaining by force, what the ſenate ſeemed to refuſe them as a favour. This gave riſe to the Social war, [346] in which moſt of the ſtates of Italy entered into a confederacy againſt Rome, in order to obtain a redreſs of this, and all the reſt of their grievances. Meſſengers and hoſtages were pri⯑vately ſent and interchanged amongſt them, and upon having their claims rejected by the ſenate, they ſoon broke out into open rebellion. The ſtate now ſaw an hundred thouſand of its own ſoldiers converted againſt itſelf, led on by excellent commanders, and diſciplined in the Roman manner. To oppoſe theſe, an equal body was raiſed by the ſenate, and the con⯑duct of the war committed to the conſuls, together with Marius, Sylla, and the moſt experienced generals of the time. The war commenced with great animoſity on either ſide, but the Romans ſeemed to have the worſt of it in the beginning. Rutilius the conſul fell into an ambuſcade, and was ſlain. His body be⯑ing carried into the city, ſo diſcouraged the peo⯑ple, that the ſenate decreed, that thenceforward the bodies of the ſlain ſhould be buried where they fell. Upon this defeat, the army which he conducted was given to Marius, who rather might be ſaid, not to forfeit his ancient fame, than to acquire new reputation by his conduct during the preſent command.

After a lapſe of two years, this war having continued to rage with doubtful ſucceſs, the ſenate began to reflect, that whether conquere [...] [347] or conquerors, the power of Rome was in dan⯑ger of being totally deſtroyed. In order there⯑fore to ſoften their compliance by degrees, they began by giving the freedom of the city to ſuch of the Italian ſtates as had not revolted. They then offered it to ſuch as would ſooneſt lay down their arms. This unexpected bounty had the deſired effect; the allies, with mutual diſtruſt, offered each a ſeparate treaty: the ſe⯑nate took them one by one into favour, but gave the freedom of the city in ſuch a manner, that being empowered to vote, not untill all the other tribes had given their ſuffrages, they had very little weight in the conſtitution. In this manner they were made free, all but the Sam⯑nites and Lucanians, who ſeemed excluded from the general compromiſe, as if to leave Sylla, who commanded againſt them, the glory of putting an end to the war: this he performed with great conduct, ſtorming their camps, over⯑throwing them in ſeveral battles, and obliging them to ſubmit to ſuch terms as the ſenate were pleaſed to impoſe.

This deſtructive war being concluded, which as Paterculus ſays, conſumed above three hun⯑dred thouſand of the flower of Italy, the ſenate now began to think of turning their arms againſt Mithridates, the moſt powerful and warlike monarch of the Eaſt. This prince, whoſe dominions were chiefly compoſed of the [348] provinces he had conquered, was maſter of Cappadocia, Bythinia, Thrace, Macedon, and all Greece. He was able to bring two hundred and fifty thouſand infantry, into the field, and fifty thouſand horſe. He had a vaſt number of armed chariots, and in his ports, four hundred ſhips of war. Such power joined to ſo great riches, ſerved only the more to invite the am⯑bition of Rome: they but deſired a pretence for a war, which was not long wanting. The pretext was his having invaded and overcome many ſtates that were in alliance with, and un⯑der the protection of Rome: his having pro⯑cured Tigranes, king of Armenia, to declare war againſt the Romans, together with his continually upbraiding the Roman ſtate with avarice and corruption. Such were the motives that induced them to declare war againſt this king, it only remained to chuſe a general, pro⯑perly qualified to conduct the expedition.

Marius was the moſt experienced comman⯑der, and ardently wiſhed to go: but Sylla was juſt choſen conſul, and had obtained this dig⯑nity, as a recompence for his ſervices in the Social war: his fame now therefore began to equal that of Marius, and he was with general conſent appointed to conduct the Aſiatic war. This general, who now began to take the lead in the commonwealth, was born of a patrician family, one of the moſt illuſtrious in Rome: [349] his perſon was elegant, his air noble, his man⯑ners eaſy, and apparently ſincere: he loved pleaſure, but glory ſtill more: his duty ſtill commanded him from ſenſual delights, which however, he never declined, when he could en⯑joy them with ſafety: he deſired to pleaſe all the world, for which purpoſe, he talked of himſelf with modeſty, and of every body elſe with the higheſt commendations: he was liberal to all, and even prevented thoſe requeſts, which modeſty heſitated to make: ſtooping, even to an acquaintance with the meaneſt ſoldiers, whoſe manners he ſometimes imitated, to gain their affections. In ſhort, he was a Proteus, who could adapt himſelf to the inclinations, pur⯑ſuits, follies, or the wiſdom of thoſe he con⯑verſed with, while he had no character of his own, except that of being a complete diſſem⯑bler. His firſt riſe was to be quaeſtor or trea⯑ſurer of the army under Marius in Numidia, where by his courage and dexterity, he contri⯑buted greatly to obtain thoſe advantages which enſued, and it was he particularly, who per⯑ſuaded Bocchus to give up Jugurtha. He was afterwards choſen proconſul in the Social war, where his actions entirely eclipſed thoſe of every other commander, and he was in conſequence of them, now appointed to the government of Aſia Minor, a poſt, which as it promiſed an [350] immenſe harveſt of glory and riches, was ear⯑neſtly ſought after by Marius.

There were two incentives to the jealouſy of Marius, at finding Sylla thus preferred to con⯑duct this war before him. The honours which were likely to be obtained there, and the for⯑mer pains he had taken to prepare himſelf for that expedition. He therefore began to conſider this preference as an unjuſt partiality in favour of his rival, and a tacit inſult upon all his for⯑mer victories. He could not help thinking, that his reputation deſerved the firſt offer in all the employments of the ſtate, and he concluded upon depriving Sylla of his new command. To this end, he gained over to his intereſt, one Sulpicius, a tribune of the people, but chiefly noted for his enmity to Sylla; a man equally eloquent and bold, of great riches but corrupt manners, and rather dreaded than eſteemed by the people. The firſt effect of the conjunc⯑tion of theſe ambitious men, was to gain over the Italian towns to their party, and for this purpoſe they preferred a law, that theſe ſhould vote, not in the rear of the other tribes, but that they ſhould be indiſcriminately poſſeſſed of all the ſame advantages. This law was as warmly op⯑poſed by the citizens of Rome, as it was reſo⯑lutely defended by Marius and Sulpicius, and the ſtates of Italy. A tumult enſued as uſual, in which many were ſlain on one ſide and the other. This [351] had been ſcarcely appeaſed, when another aſ⯑ſembly of the people was propoſed, for paſſing the law, contrary to the command of the con⯑ſuls. This produced a more violent commotion than even the former, in which Sylla's ſon-in-law, who attempted to oppoſe the law, was ſlain: nor was Sylla himſelf in leſs danger, for being purſued by the multitude, he was at laſt obliged to take refuge in the houſe of his ene⯑my Marius, who though naturally vindictive, would not break the laws of hoſpitality, which were ſtill reverenced in Rome. Having thus found means of eſcaping their fury, and finding the oppoſite faction prevail, he inſtantly quit⯑ted Rome, and went to the army which he had commanded during the Social war, and which was appointed to go under him upon the ex⯑pedition into Aſia. In the mean time, Marius and Sulpicius drove their ſcheme forward with⯑out any oppoſition; the law for giving the Ita⯑lians a full participation of the freedom of the city, was paſt without trouble; and by the ſame law it was enacted, that the command of the army which was to oppoſe Mithridates, was to be transferred from Sylla to Marius.

In conſequence of this, Marius immediately ſent down officers from Rome, to take com⯑mand in his name. But Sylla, as was mention⯑ed above, had prediſpoſed the army in his own favour. They were troops with whom he had [352] gained ſignal victories, and they were entirely devoted to his command. Inſtead therefore, of obeying the orders of Marius, they fell up⯑on and ſlew his officers, and then entreated their general, that he would lead them directly to take ſignal vengeance upon all his enemies at Rome. In the mean time, Marius being in⯑formed of this, was not ſlow in making repri⯑ſals upon ſuch of Sylla's friends as fell into his hands in the city. This produced new mur⯑murs in Sylla's camp, the army inſiſted upon being led to the capital, and their general him⯑ſelf, who was naturally vindictive, at length determined to comply.

Sylla's army amounted to ſix legions, the ſoldiers of which ſeemed animated with the re⯑ſentment of their leader, and breathed nothing but ſlaughter and revenge. However, there were a few yet remaining among them, that even in this time of general corruption, could not think of turning their arms upon their na⯑tive city, but quitted the camp and fled. Thus a ſtrange migration of different parties was ſeen, ſome flying from Rome to avoid the re⯑ſentment of Marius, and others deſerting from the camp, not to be accomplices in the guilt of Sylla. Still however, the army ad⯑vanced toward Rome; it was to no purpoſe, that the praetors went out from the city in form, to retard them; they broke the enſigns [353] of their office, and tore their purple robes with deriſion. The ſenate next ſent deputies to com⯑mand the army not to advance within five miles of the city. The deputies were for a while amuſ⯑ed by Sylla, however they ſeemed ſcarce returned to give an account of their commiſſion, when he arrived with all his forces at the very gates of Rome. His ſoldiers entered the city ſword in hand, as into a place taken by ſtorm. Ma⯑rius and Sulpicius, at the head of a tumultu⯑ary body of their partizans, attempted to op⯑poſe their entrance, and the citizens themſelves, who feared the ſaccage of the place, threw down ſtones and tyles from the tops of the houſes upon the ſoldiers. So unequal a con⯑flict laſted longer than could have been expect⯑ed, but at length, Marius and his party were obliged to ſeek ſafety by flight, after having vainly offered liberty to all the ſlaves, who ſhould aſſiſt them in this emergency.

Sylla now finding himſelf maſter of the city, placed bodies of ſoldiers in different parts to prevent pillage and diſorder. He even pu⯑niſhed ſome ſeverely for offering to enter the houſes by force, and ſpent the night in viſiting their quarters, and reſtraining their impetuoſity. The next morning he began, by modelling the laws ſo as to favour his outrages. Theſe had long loſt their force in the commonwealth, and were now molded into whatever form the ſtrongeſt [354] party were pleaſed they ſhould aſſume. He therefore reverſed all the decrees which had been paſſed by Sulpicius. He enacted, that no law ſhould be propoſed for the future, but what ſhould be previouſly approved by the ſe⯑nate. That the ſuffrages ſhould be given by claſſes, in which the patricians were ſure of a majority, and not by tribes, in which, every man having an equal voice, the influence of the great was totally annihilated. To theſe he ad⯑ded a decree, whereby Marius, Sulpicius, and ten other leading men were declared enemies to their country, and by which it was lawful for any perſon to kill them. Having thus brought the laws to ſecond his ambition, he cauſed the goods of the proſcribed to be confiſcated, and next ſent troops into all parts to apprehend them. Marius eſcaped, but Sulpicius was found hidden in the marſhes of Laurentium, and his head be⯑ing cut off, was carried and fixed upon the Roſ⯑trum at Rome. Sylla having thus, as he ſuppoſ⯑ed, entirely reſtored peace to the city, departed upon his expedition againſt Mithridates, hop⯑ing to give new vigour to his deſigns, by the wealth and honours which he expected to reap in the Eaſt.

But while Sylla was thus eſtabliſhing his par⯑ty againſt Marius, he had been inattentive to a very formidable opponent, who was daily grow⯑ing into popularity and power at Rome. This [355] was Cornelius Cinna, who was born of a pa⯑trician family, but ſtrongly attached to the peo⯑ple from motives of ambition. He was a man eager after glory, but incapable of patiently ex⯑pecting its regular approach: raſh, hot, and obſtinate, but at the ſame time, bold, and cou⯑rageous; he was willing to become the leader of the people, as he could not lead in the ſe⯑nate. He therefore offered himſelf for the con⯑ſulſhip, in oppoſition to the intereſts of Sylla, and either from that general's inattention to one he deſpiſed, or from his own great favour with the lower part of the people, he obtained it. He was ſcarce inveſted with his new dignity, but his enmity broke forth: he boaſted, that he would annul all the laws which had been lately made in favour of the patricians, and ac⯑cordingly began by endeavours to attach the Italians firmly to his intereſt. This was only to be effected, by giving them an equal parti⯑cipation in the freedom of the city, of which Sylla had lately deprived them. He therefore ſent private emiſſaries among the country ſtates, deſiring their attendance at Rome upon a cer⯑tain day, and enjoining them alſo to carry ſwords under their robes. Thus, when he had prepared a party to ſupport his pretenſions, he publickly propoſed the law for ſuppreſſing the new Italian tribes, and for giving them equal privileges with the reſt, by mixing them among [356] thoſe formerly eſtabliſhed. To propoſe a law at this time, was in ſome meauſure to de⯑clare a war. An engagement enſued, in which the Italians, being previouſly armed, came off victorious for a while; but Octavius, the other conſul, coming with a powerful body of Sylla's friends to oppoſe them, ſoon turned the fortune of the day, and obliged the Italians to quit the city.

Cinna being thus defeated in his purpoſe of paſſing the law, had notwithſtanding, the plea⯑ſure of finding all the ſtates of Italy ſtrongly united in his favour; whereupon, leaving Rome, he went from city to city, declaring againſt the tyranny of the great, and their in⯑juſtice to their allies, by whoſe aſſiſtance they had become ſo powerful: he allured them with freſh hopes of equal privileges with the Ro⯑mans, and excited their pity towards himſelf, whoſe ſufferings had been incurred for his aſſi⯑duity in their cauſe. Having thus induced them to a general inſurrection, he began to make levies both of troops and money: thus a powerful army was ſoon raiſed, and Cinna, as being conſul of Rome, without oppoſition, was placed at its head. In the mean time, the ſenate, who were apprized of theſe violent pro⯑ceedings, went through the forms of juſtice againſt him. Being ſummoned to take his trial, and not appearing, he was degraded from his [357] rank as a citizen, tured out of his office of conſul, and Lucius Merula, the prieſt of Ju⯑piter, elected in his ſtead. But theſe indig⯑nities only ſerved to encreaſe his diligence and animoſity. He appeared before a body of the Roman forces that were encamped at Capua, in an humble, imploring manner, without any of the enſigns of his office. He entreated them with tears and proteſtations, not to ſuffer the people of Rome to fall a ſacrifice to the tyranny of the great: he invoked the gods who puniſhed injuſtice, to witneſs to the rectitude of his intentions, and ſo far prevailed upon the ſoldiers, that they unanimouſly re⯑ſolved to ſupport his cauſe. The whole army, with general conſent, agreed to nominate him conſul, and contrary to the decree of the ſenate, inveſted him with the enſigns of his office: and then taking the oaths of allegiance, they deter⯑mined to follow him to Rome. Thus he ſaw his ſtrength encreaſing every day; ſeveral of the ſenators who were wavering before, now came over to his ſide; but what was equal to an army in itſelf! Tidings were brought, that Marius eſcaping from a thouſand perils, was with his ſon upon the road to join him.

We have already ſeen this formidable general driven out of Rome, and declared a public enemy: we have ſeen him at the age of ſeventy, after numberleſs victories, and ſix conſulſhips, [358] obliged to ſave himſelf, unattended and on foot, from the numerous purſuits of thoſe who ſought his life. After having wandered for ſome time in this deplorable condition, he found every day his dangers encreaſe, and his purſuers making nearer advances. In this diſtreſs he was obliged to conceal himſelf in the marſhes of Minturnum, where he ſpent the night up to his chin in a quagmire. At break of day he left this diſmal place, and made towards the ſea ſide, in hopes of finding a ſhip to facilitate his eſcape, but being known and diſcovered by ſome of the inhabitants, he was conducted to a neighbouring town with an halter round his neck, and with⯑out cloaths, and thus covered over with mud, he was ſent to priſon. The governor of the place, willing to conform to the orders of the ſenate, ſoon after ſent a Cimbrian ſlave to diſpatch him, but the barbarian no ſooner entered the dungeon for this purpoſe, but he ſtopt ſhort, intimidated by the dreadful viſage and awful voice of this fallen general, who ſternly demanded, if he he had the preſumption to kill Caius Marius? The ſlave unable to reply, threw down his ſword, and ruſhing back from the priſon, cried out, that he found it impoſſible to kill him! The governor conſider⯑ing the fear of the ſlave as an omen in the unhappy exile's favour, gave him once more his freedom, and commending him to his for⯑tune, [359] provided him with a ſhip to convey him from Italy. He from thence made the beſt of his way to the iſland of Aenaria, and ſailing onward, was forced by a tempeſt upon the coaſt of Sicily. Here a Roman quaeſtor who hap⯑pened to be at the ſame place, reſolved to ſeize him, by which he loſt ſixteen of his crew, who were killed in their endeavours to cover his re⯑treat to the ſhip. He afterwards landed in Africa, near Carthage, and went in a melan⯑choly manner, to place himſelf among the ruins of that deſolated place. He ſoon however, had orders from the praetor who governed there, to retire. Marius, who remembered his having once ſerved this very man, when in neceſſity, could not ſuppreſs his ſorrow, at finding ingra⯑titude in every quarter of the world, and pre⯑paring to obey, deſired the meſſenger to tell his maſter, that he had ſeen Marius ſitting among the ruins of Carthage, intimating the greatneſs of his own fall, by the deſolation that was round him. He then embarked once more, and not knowing where to land without encounter⯑ing an enemy, he ſpent the winter at ſea, ex⯑pecting every hour, the return of a meſſenger from his ſon, whom he had ſent to ſollicit pro⯑tection from an African prince, whoſe name was Mandraſtal. After long expectation, in⯑ſtead of the meſſenger, his ſon himſelf arrived, having eſcaped from the inhoſpitable court of [360] that monarch, where he had been kept, not as a friend, but a priſoner, and had returned juſt time enough to prevent his father from ſharing the ſame rate. It was in this ſituation, that they were informed of the activity of Cinna in their favour, and accordingly made the beſt of their way to join him.

Cinna, upon being apprized of their ap⯑proach, ſent his lictors, with all other marks of diſtinction, to join them, but Marius would not accept of theſe inſtances of reſpect: he ſent them back, as being ill ſuited to his abject ſituation, and affected to appear in the wretch⯑ed habit which he had worn in his misfortunes. His beard was long and neglected, his pace ſlow and ſolemn, and all his actions ſhewed a mind ſtung into reſentment, and meditating revenge: he now therefore, went among the towns, exciting them to eſpouſe his quarrel, which he taught them to think was their own. Five hundred of the principal citizens of Rome went down to congratulate his return; a large number of veterans, who had fought under his ſtandard, came to offer him their ſervice, and to encreaſe his forces ſtill more, he proclaim⯑ed freedom to all ſlaves who ſhould join him, by which means, great crowds flocked to him from every quarter. His firſt operation was to take the city of Oſtia by ſtorm; he then ad⯑vanced with his whole army, and poſted him⯑ſelf [361] upon the Janiculum, an hill that overlooked Rome, where he was joined by Cinna, with an army as numerous as his own, and both now reſolved to lay ſiege to their native city.

The ſenate and conſuls were now driven al⯑moſt to deſpair; it was too late to ſend to Sylla, who was gaining victories in Aſia, while his party was upon the brink of ruin at home. Cneius Pompeius commanded an army near Rome, but his actions were ſo equivocal, that neither ſide could rely upon him, while both equally feared him. They ſent to Metellus, then lying with a body of troops among the Samnites, but his ſoldiers, inſtead of granting them any aid, ſoon after joined with Marius. Thus deſerted by all, they daily ſaw the towns about the city taken and plundered, and vaſt numbers of ſlaves every hour deſerting over to the enemy. In this exigence, they had no other reſource but ſubmiſſion: they accordingly re⯑ſolved to ſend ambaſſadors to the two generals, aſſuring them of their ready attachment, and de⯑ſiring them to enter the city peaceably, and to ſpare their own countrymen. Cinna however, refuſed to grant any audience, till he knew in what manner he was to be addreſſed, whether as a private man, or as conſul, and firſt officer of the ſtate. This, for a while, created ſome embarraſſment; but it was vain to deliberate, when ſubmiſſion was the only alternative. Cinna [362] being reſtored to the conſulſhip, now received the ambaſſadors of the ſenate in form, who in⯑vited him into the city, and requeſted him to undertake the duties of his office; they en⯑treated him to regard his countrymen with ten⯑derneſs, and endeavoured to obtain from him an oath, that he would put no man to death, but after a legal manner, and conformable to the ancient uſages of Rome. Cinna refuſed the oath, but promiſed, that willingly he would not be the cauſe of any man's death. During this conference, Marius continued ſtanding by the conſul's tribunal, obſerving a profound ſilence, but his furious air, and eyes glancing with fire, were but too ſure preſages of the carnage he meditated within.

The conference being ended, Cinna and Ma⯑rius preſented themſelves at the gates of the city, at the head of their troops: Cinna marched in firſt, accompanied by his guards, but Marius ſtopped, and refuſed to enter, alledging, that having been baniſhed by a public decree, it was neceſſary to have another to authorize his re⯑turn. It was thus that he deſired to give his meditated cruelties the appearance of juſtice, and while he was about to deſtroy thouſands, to pretend an implicit veneration for the laws. In purſuance of his deſire, an aſſembly of th [...] people being called, they began to reverſe hi [...] baniſhment, but they had ſcarce gone throug [...] [363] three of the tribes, when incapable of contain⯑ing his deſire of revenge, he entered the city at the head of his guards, and maſſacred all who had ever been obnoxious to him, without remorſe or pity. Octavius the conſul was kil⯑led in his chair of office; Merula, who had been his colleague in the room of Cinna, kil⯑led himſelf, to avoid falling by the enemy; Caius and Lucius Julius, Serranus, Lentulus, Numitorius and Bebius, all ſenators of the firſt rank, were butchered in the ſtreets, their heads placed upon the roſtrum, and their bodies given to be devoured by dogs; many more ſhared the ſame fate; the ſatellites of Marius breathing ſlaughter and vengeance, ſtabbed the fathers of families in in their own houſes, violated the chaſtity of matrons, and carried away their children by force. Several who ſought to pro⯑pitiate the tyrant's rage, were murdered by his command in his preſence: many even of thoſe who had never offended him were put to death, and at laſt, even his own officers never approach⯑ed him but with terror. Having in this man⯑ner puniſhed his enemies, he next abrogated all the laws which were made by his rival, and then made himſelf conſul with Cinna. Thus gratified in his two favourite paſſions, vengeance and ambition; having once ſaved his country, and now deluged it with blood, at laſt, as if willing to crown the pile of ſlaughter [364] which he had made, with his own body, he died the month after, aged ſeventy, not without ſuſpicion of having haſtened his end.

In the mean time, theſe accounts were brought to Sylla, who was ſent againſt Mithri⯑dates, and who was performing many ſignal ſervices againſt him. That monarch having cauſed an hundred and fifty thouſand Romans, who were in his dominions, to be ſlain in cold blood, next ſent his general Archelaus to op⯑poſe Sylla; however, he was defeated near Athens, with the loſs of an immenſe number of his forces. Another battle enſued, by which the Roman general recovered all the countries that had been uſurped by Mithridates. The loſs of the king's fleet followed ſoon after, ſo that both parties were now inclined to an accommo⯑dation; Mithridates induced by his loſſes, and Sylla by a deſire of returning home, to take vengeance on his enemies in Rome. A peace was accordingly ſoon after concluded, the prin⯑cipal articles of which were, that Mithridates ſhould defray the charges of the war, and ſhould be content with his own hereditary do⯑minions. U. C. Thus having in leſs than three years brought the Aſiatic war to an honourable pe⯑riod, Sylla prepared for his return, previouſly informing the ſenate by letter, of all the great ſervices he had done the ſtate, and the ungrate⯑ful return he had received, from ſuch as envied [365] his fortune; adding a dreadful menace, that he would ſoon be at the gates of Rome with a victorious and powerful army, to take ſignal re⯑venge upon his own enemies and thoſe of the ſtate. The ſenate, who were now to be conſi⯑dered rather as a party formed by Marius, than as the independent protectors of Rome, greatly dreaded the effects of Sylla's return: they al⯑ready anticipated the ſlaughters he was about to make, and therefore ſent to treat with him, of⯑fering to comply with whatever terms he ſhould propoſe, provided he let them know the limits he intended to ſet to his reſentment. They even ordered Cinna, who as we have obſerved before, had been elected conſul with Marius, to diſcontinue his levies, and join with them in deprecating Sylla's anger by timely ſubmiſſion. Cinna however, knew too well how little mercy he had to expect from his opponent, and inſtead of obeying the ſenate, returned them an evaſive anſwer, but in the mean time, proceeded to raiſe forces, and to oppoſe Sylla even in Aſia, by ſending an army thither, under pretence, that what was acted againſt Mithridates hither⯑to, was againſt the conſent, and without the authority of the ſenate. For this purpoſe he diſpatched a body of forces under the command of Valerius Flaccus, his colleague in the conſulſhip, into Aſia. However, as this leader was unexperienced in the field, Fimbria, an old [366] ſoldier of reputation, was ſent as his lieutenant, with directions to correct by his experience, the too great impetuoſity of the general. They ſoon however, began to differ, and the breach wid⯑ening every day, the conſul thought proper to depoſe Fimbria from his command. But all confidence and order was now loſt in the mili⯑tary as well as in the civil departments of the ſtate. Fimbria, inſtead of ſubmitting to his ſuperior, brought his cauſe before the army; a general mutiny enſued; the conſul attempted to eſcape, but being diſcovered at the bottom of a well, was dragged out, and murdered by his own ſoldiers. In the mean time, Fimbria taking the command of the army, led it againſt Mithridates, over whom he gained a ſignal vic⯑tory, and might have compleated his triumph over that monarch, but the ſame diſobedience which he was guilty of to his own commander, his ſoldiers practiſed againſt him, for ſhortly af⯑ter, at Sylla's approach, his troops all deſerted, to join their fellow-citizens in the other army, ſo that Fimbria being thus left alone, fled to the temple of Aeſculapius in Pergamus, where he fell upon his ſword, but the wound not proving mortal, his ſlave diſpatched him, killing himſelf upon the body of his maſter.

In the mean time, the ill ſucceſs of this army did not intimidate Cinna from making prepara⯑tions to repel his opponent. Being joined by [367] Carbo, who was now elected in the room of Valerius, who had been ſlain, together with young Marius, who inherited all the abilities and the ambition of his father, he determined to ſend over part of the forces he had raiſed into Dal⯑matia, to oppoſe Sylla before he entered Italy. Some troops were accordingly embarked, but theſe being diſperſed by a ſtorm, the reſt that had not yet put to ſea, abſolutely refuſed to go. Upon this, Cinna, quite furious at their diſobe⯑dience, ruſhed forward to perſuade them to their duty. However, one of the moſt mutinous of the ſoldiers being ſtruck by an officer, and re⯑turning the blow, he was apprehended for his crime. This ill-timed ſeverity produced a tu⯑mult and a mutiny through the whole army, and while Cinna did all he could to prevent or appeaſe it, he was run through the body by one of the crowd. The army being thus de⯑prived of their principal leader, continued un⯑der Carbo, who kept himſelf conſul, without a colleague, for ſome time. The next year's conſuls being Urbanus and Scipio, new levies were made, and the affairs of the party ſeemed to wear a very favourable aſpect. It was not doubted, but Sylla would take ſignal vengeance for his late injuries, and do all in his power to ſuppreſs the late popular laws, exacted in his abſence: all the lower part of the citizens there⯑fore, and the majority of the ſenate were againſt [368] him; the one from principles of democracy, the other through fear. Thus a great con⯑courſe of people came from different part [...] of Italy, to take part with the conſuls, who ſoon ſaw themſelves at the head of an army, ſupe⯑rior to that of Sylla, whoſe approach was ſo much dreaded by all.

During theſe preparations, Sylla was not leſs expeditious, by long and forced marches, in returning to his native country, which he intended to deluge with blood. Being arrived at Dy [...]c⯑chium, where he had prepared a fleet to con⯑vey him into Italy, he harrangued his army before they embarked, entreating, that they would engage themſelves by an oath, to conti⯑nue faithful to his cauſe. This they unani⯑mouſly conſented to do, and as an earneſt of their ſincerity, offered him all the money which they had gained in their late expeditions, to⯑wards ſupporting the expences of the war. Sylla, pleaſed at their alacrity, refuſed their in⯑tended favours, aſſuring them, that they ſhould ſoon ſhare much greater rewards from his bounty, than he had as yet been able to be⯑ſtow, and then embarking his troops, landed them, after a favourable paſſage, at Bru [...]du⯑ſium in Italy.

He had been ſcarce arrived there, but the re⯑mains of that ſhattered party which had eſcap⯑ed the proſcriptions of Marius, came to join [369] him. Metellus was the firſt, with a large body of forces which he had collected in his way. Marcus Craſſus came with a ſupply, as alſo Cethegus; but of all the ſuccours which he received, none were more timely or pleaſing, than thoſe which were brought him by Cneius Pompey, afterwards ſurnamed the Great. This commander, though yet but twenty-three, began already to ſhew the dawnings of that ambition, which afterwards ſhone with ſuch luſtre in the commonwealth. Though at that time inveſted with no public character, he found means to raiſe an army of three legions in Picaenum, and to overthrow Brutus, who commanded the troops of the oppoſite faction in that diſtrict. This victory was alſo ſignalized by his killing the general of the Gauliſh cavalry, who oppoſed himſelf in ſingle combat, for which he was ſa⯑luted with the higheſt marks of reſpect by Sylla, who ſeemed to have a preſcience of his future greatneſs.

A civil war being thus determined upon, and both parties being now advanced very near each other, Sylla was willing to try, how far the immenſe riches he brought with him from Aſia, were capable of ſhaking the enemies forces, without a battle. For this purpoſe, he at firſt pretended to be averſe to engaging, and ſent deputies to Scipio the conſul, who com⯑manded againſt him, with propoſals for coming [370] to a treaty. The conſul, who ſought for nothing ſo much as peace, very readily embraced his offers, but deſired time, previouſly to confer with Urbanus his colleague, upon a meaſure in which he was equally concerned. This was all that Sylla deſired, for in the mean time, a ſuſ⯑penſion of arms being agreed upon, his ſoldiers went into the oppoſite camp, diſplaying thoſe riches which they had acquired in their expedi⯑tions, and offering to participate with their fel⯑low-citizens, in caſe they changed their party. The ſame motives that had prevailed on the ſol⯑diers of Fimbria to deſert him, now prevailed upon theſe to deſert their general. The whole army declared unanimouſly for Sylla, and Sci⯑pio ſcarce knew that he was forſaken and de⯑poſed, till he was informed of it by a party of the enemy, who entering his tent, made him and his ſon their priſoners. Sylla however, acted with great moderation towards him; he would permit no injury to be done to the conſul, but employed all his arts to bring him over to his party. After much entreaty, finding him in⯑flexible, he generouſly gave him his freedom, having previouſly obtained his promiſe, not to command againſt him during the reſt of his conſulſhip.

Sylla having ſucceeded ſo well in this in⯑ſtance, reſolved to try the ſame arts upon the army commanded by Norbanus, the other con⯑ſul. He ſent deputies to him, deſiring a con⯑ference, [371] but the conſul, inſtructed by the diſ⯑grace of his colleague, confined the deputies, and marched directly againſt him, hoping to come upon him by ſurprize. An engagement enſued, in which Sylla's men, though attacked in diſorder, repaired by their courage, what they wanted in regularity. Norbanus loſt ſeven thou⯑ſand men, and was obliged to take refuge in Capua, with the remainder of his army.

Italy now began to feel all the deſolations and miſeries of a declared civil war, nor were the ſecret intrigues of corruption carried on by both parties with leſs perſeverance and aſſiduity: the emiſſaries of each were ſeen going diligently during the whole winter, up and down among the ſtates of Italy, labouring by all the arts of bribery and perſuaſion to gain over forces to their cauſe. Sylla was particularly verſed in the buſineſs of ſeduction, and vaſt ſums of that money which had been plundered from the Eaſt, went all over the country, and even among the barbarous nations of Gaul, to extend his inte⯑reſts. On the other hand, the Samnites, to the number of forty thouſand men, declared in fa⯑vour of Carbo, his chief oppoſer, who was now choſen conſul a third time, with young Marius, of whom his party had formed great expecta⯑tions. The operations in the field, which had been ſuſpended during the winter, opened with ſtill greater vigour in the beginning of the [372] ſpring. Marius, at the head of twenty-five co⯑horts, offered Sylla battle, which this general, knowing how the troops againſt him were pre⯑diſpoſed, readily accepted. At firſt the fortune of the day ſeemed doubtful, but juſt at that very period in which victory begins to waver, a part of the troops of Marius, which had been previouſly corrupted, fled in diſorder, and thus decided the fate of the day. Marius having vainly endeavoured to rally his troops, was the laſt that fled, and went to take refuge in Prae⯑neſte, a ſtrong city that was ſtill ſtedfaſt in his cauſe. Sylla cloſely purſued him there, and in⯑veſted the city on every ſide: then having diſ⯑poſed his army in ſuch a manner, as that none of the defendants could eſcape, and no forces could be thrown into the garriſon from without, he marched at the head of a detachment to Rome.

The partizans of Marius having been apprized of his defeat, abandoned the city with precipi⯑tation, ſo that Sylla approached without reſiſ⯑tance. The inhabitants, thinned by famine and all the terrors that attend a civil war, opened their gates upon his arrival, wherefore entering the Forum, and aſſembling the people, he re⯑primanded them for their infidelity. However, he exhorted them not to be dejected, for he was ſtill reſolved to pardon and protect them. He obſerved, that he was obliged by the neceſſity of the times, to take vigorous meaſures, and that [373] none but their enemies and his own ſhould ſuffer. He then put up the goods of thoſe that fled, to ſale, and leaving a ſmall garriſon in the city, re⯑turned to beſiege his rival.

Young Marius on the other hand, made many attempts to raiſe the ſiege, but all his deſigns were known to Sylla, before they were put into execution. Wherever his Sallies were pointed, the peculiar attention of Sylla's lieutenant ſeem⯑ed to be directed there. Thus frequently fruſ⯑trated in his attempts to repreſs, or at leaſt to eſcape his beſiegers, he gave way to that reſent⯑ment, which was remarkable in his family, and aſcribing his detention to the treachery of Sylla's friends, who pretended to remain neuter, he ſent orders to Rome, to Brutus, who was Prae⯑tor there, to put all thoſe ſenators to death, whom he ſuſpected to be in the intereſt of his rival. With this cruel command Brutus im⯑mediately complied, and many of the firſt rank, among whom were Domitius Antiſtius, and Scaevola, were ſlain as they were leaving the ſenate. Thus, whatever faction was victorious, Rome was ſtill a miſerable ſufferer.

Both factions thus exaſperated to the higheſt degree, and expecting no mercy on either part, gave vent to their fury in ſeveral engagements. The forces on the ſide of Marius were the moſt numerous, but thoſe of Sylla better united and more under ſubordination. Carbo, who com⯑manded [374] an army for Marius in the field, ſent eight legions to Praeneſte, to relieve his col⯑league, but they were met by Pompey in a de⯑file, who ſlew many of them, and diſperſed the reſt. Carbo, joined by Urbanus, ſoon after en⯑gaged Metellus, but was overcome with the loſs of ten thouſand men ſlain, and ſix thouſand taken priſoners. In conſequence of this defeat, Ur⯑banus killed himſelf, and Carbo fled to Africa, where, after wandering a long time, he was at laſt delivered up to Pompey, who to pleaſe Syl⯑la, ordered him to be beheaded. Still however, a numerous army of the Samnites were in the field, headed by ſeveral Roman generals, and by Teleſinus, who though a Samnite, had ſhewn himſelf equal to the greateſt commanders of the age. Theſe were joined by four legions, com⯑manded by Carianus, who was ſtill obſtinately bent upon continuing the war. Theſe united, were reſolved to make one deſperate effort to raiſe the ſiege of Praeneſte, or to periſh in the attempt. Accordingly, Teleſinus made a ſhew of advancing with great boldneſs, to force the enemy's lines of circumvallation. At the ſame time, Sylla, at the head of a victorious army, faced him in front, while orders were ſent to Pompey, to follow and attack him in the rear. The Samnite general however, ſhewed himſelf ſuperior to both, in theſe operations, for judging of their deſigns by their motions, he [375] led off his troops by night, and by forced marches, appeared next morning upon the mountains that overlooked Rome. This wretched city had juſt time ſufficient to ſhut its gates, to prevent his entrance, but he hoped to ſeize the place by a bold aſſault, and encourag⯑ing his ſoldiers, both by their ancient enmity to the Roman ſtate, and their hopes of immenſe riches upon the capture, he brought on his men, and led them boldly to the very walls. Appius Claudius, who was at that time in Rome, and in the intereſts of Sylla, made a ſally to oppoſe him, rather with hopes of delay⯑ing the aſſailants, than of entirely repreſſing them. The Romans fought with that vigour, which the conſciouſneſs of defending every thing dear inſpires. But Appius was killed in the combat, and the reſt diſheartened by the loſs of their general, ſeemed preparing for flight. Juſt at this interval, a party of Sylla's horſe ap⯑peared at the oppoſite gates, who throwing themſelves into the city, and haſtening through it, met the aſſailants on the other ſide. The deſperate fury of theſe, in ſome meaſure ſuſ⯑pended the fate of the battle, till Sylla with his whole army had time to arrive. It was then that a general and dreadful conflict enſued be⯑tween the Samnite and the Roman army. The citizens from their walls beheld thouſands fall on both ſides. At firſt, the forces com⯑manded [376] by Sylla on the left, gave way, but his lieutenant Craſſus was victorious on the right. The battle continued all day, till late at night, nor was it till the morning, that Sylla found himſelf completely victorious. He then viſited the field of battle, on which more than fifty thouſand of the vanquiſhed and the victors lay promiſcuouſly. Eight thouſand of the Sam⯑nites were made priſoners, and killed in cold blood, after the engagement. Marcius and Carinus attempting to eſcape, were taken, and their heads being cut off, were ſent by Sylla's command, to be carried round the walls of Praeneſte. At this ſorrowful ſight, the inhabi⯑tants of the place being now deſtitute of provi⯑ſions, and deſpairing of all ſuccour from without, reſolved to ſurrender, but it was only to experi⯑ence the unrelenting fury of the conqueror, who ordered all the males to be ſlain. Marius, the cauſe of theſe calamities, was at firſt miſſing, and it was thought had got off, but he was at laſt diſcovered lying dead, with a captain of the Samnites, at the iſſue of one of the ſubterra⯑nean paſſages that led from the city, where they had tried to eſcape, but finding it guard⯑ed by the enemy, killed themſelves. The city of Norba was now all that remained un⯑ſubdued in Italy, but the inhabitants, after a long reſiſtance, dreading the fate of Praeneſte, ſet their town on fire, and deſperately periſhed [377] in the flames. The deſtruction of this place, put an end to the civil war; Sylla now became undiſputed maſter of his country, and entered Rome at the head of his army. Happy, had he ſupported in peace the glory which he had acquired in war, or had he ceaſed to live, when he ceaſed to conquer.

Being now no longer obliged to wear the maſk of lenity, he began his reign by aſſem⯑bling the people, and deſired an implicit obe⯑dience to his commands, if they expected fa⯑vour. He then publiſhed, that thoſe who ex⯑pected pardon for their late offences, ſhould gain it by deſtroying the enemies of the ſtate. This was a new mode of proſcription, by which the arms of all were turned againſt all. Great numbers periſhed by this mutual power, which was given the people of de⯑ſtroying each other, and nothing was to be found in every place, but menaces, diſtruſt, and treachery. Eight thouſand who had eſcaped the general carnage, offered themſelves to the conqueror at Rome: he ordered them to be put into the Villa Publica, a large houſe in the Campus Martius, and at the ſame time convok⯑ed the ſenate: there he ſpoke with great fluen⯑cy, and in a manner no way diſcompoſed, of his own exploits, and in the mean time, ordered all thoſe wretches whom he had confined, to be ſlain. The ſenate, amazed at the horrrid outcries of [378] the ſufferers, at firſt thought that the city was given up to plunder; but Sylla, with an unem⯑barraſſed air informed them, that it was only ſome criminals who were puniſhed by his order, and that they needed not to make themſelves un⯑eaſy about their fate. The day after, he proſcribed forty ſenators and ſixteen hundred knights, and after an intermiſſion of two days, forty ſenators more, with an infinite number of the richeſt citizens of Rome. He declared the children and the grand-children of the oppoſite party, in⯑famous, and diveſted of the rights of freedom. He ordained by a public edict, that thoſe who ſaved or harboured any of the proſcribed, ſhould ſuffer in their place. He ſet a price upon the heads of ſuch as were thus to be deſtroyed, two talents being the reward affixed for every murder. Slaves invited by ſuch offers, were ſeen to kill their maſ⯑ters, and ſtill more ſhocking to humanity, chil⯑dren, whoſe hands ſtill reeked with the blood of their parents, came confidently to demand the wages of parricide. Nor were the enemies of the ſtate the only ſufferers; Sylla permitted his ſol⯑diers to revenge their private injuries, ſo that huſ⯑bands were ſlain, by ſuch as deſired to enjoy thei [...] widows, and children were ſlain in the embrace [...] of their parents, who were ſoon to ſhare the ſam [...] fate. Riches now became dangerous to the poſſeſ⯑ſor, and even the reputation of fortune was equi⯑valent to guilt: Aurelius, a peaceable citize [...] [379] without any other crime, found his name among the number of the proſcribed, and could not help crying out juſt before his aſſaſſination, that he owed his death to the magnificence of his palace at Alba. But the brother of Marius felt the conqueror's moſt refined cruelty! Firſt he had his eyes plucked out deliberately, then his hands and legs cut off at ſeveral times, to lengthen his torments, and in this agoniz⯑ing ſituation he was left to expire. But theſe barbarities were not confined only to Rome, the proſcription was extended to many of the inhabitants of all the cities of Italy, and even whole towns and diſtricts were ordered to be laid deſolate. Theſe were given to his ſoldiers as re⯑wards for their fidelity, who ſtill wanting more, excited him to new cruelty. In this general ſlaughter, Julius Caeſar, who had married Cin⯑na's daughter, very hardly eſcaped the miſeries of the times: Sylla was prevailed upon to let him live, though he was heard to ſay, that there were many Mariuſes in Caeſar.

However, theſe arbitrary confiſcations, and numerous largeſſes which were given to his fol⯑lowers, were not to be retained without ſome ſhare of continuing power. He therefore reſolved to inveſt himſelf with the dictatorſhip, which, by uniting all civil as well as military power in his own perſon, he might thus give an air of juſtice to every oppreſſion. He therefore withdrew [380] a while from the city, and gave order [...] ▪ that ſince affairs ſtill remained unſettled, the people ſhould be applied to, to create a dictator, and that not for any limited time, but till the pub⯑lic grievances ſhould be redreſſed. To theſe di⯑rections he added his requeſt, which, as he was poſſeſſed of all power, was equivalent to a com⯑mand, that he himſelf ſhould be choſen. To this the people being conſtrained to yield. He was choſen perpetual dictator; and thus the Romans received a maſter inveſted with an au⯑thority far more abſolute, than any of their kings had been poſſeſſed of before.

The government of Rome having now paſſed through all the forms of monarchy, ariſtocracy, and democracy, at length began to ſettle into deſpotiſm, from which, though it made ſome faint ſtruggles to be free, yet it never compleatly extricated itſelf, till its total diſſolution. Sylla, to amuſe the people with a ſhew of their former go⯑vernment, permitted them to have conſuls, but at the ſame time took care, that none but his own creatures ſhould be elected, and that all their power ſhould be entirely derived from him. He made ſeveral new laws for regulating the different offices of the ſtate. He totally deſtroyed the power of the tribunes, by enacting, that thoſe who bore it, ſhould be incapable of obtaining any other office. He added three hundred of the knights to the ſenate, and ten thouſand of [381] the ſlaves of thoſe who were proſcribed, to the body of the people. To eſtabliſh theſe regula⯑tions more firmly, he appropriated to himſelf the treaſures of the public, and laviſhed them in widening his dependencies, and ſtrengthen⯑ing his intereſt: he ſeemed to think he could never ſufficiently reward his creatures, if they were but implicit in their obedience. Craſ⯑ſus, who was already the richeſt man in the ſtate, was ever ſoliciting an accumulation of his favours, and buying up the effects of ſuch as were proſcribed, at an under rate. Pompey put away his wife Antiſtia to oblige him, and mar⯑ried Emilia, the dictator's ſtep-child. He at⯑tempted to exerciſe the ſame power over Julius Caeſar, by obliging him to repudiate his wife Cornelia, but that young Roman choſe to baniſh himſelf from the city, rather than comply, and never returned, till Sylla was no more.

In this manner he continued to govern with capricious tyranny, none daring to reſiſt his power. Lucretius Offella ſhewed how danger⯑ous it was to controul a tyrant in the full exer⯑ciſe of his authority: this man ventured to of⯑fer himſelf for the conſulſhip, in oppoſition to one of Sylla's decrees, which had forbidden any man's aſpiring to that dignity, without having gone through the regular gradations of office. However, as he had formerly rendered ſome very ſignal ſervices to his party, he thought [382] that would excuſe him. He was therefore at firſt deſired to deſiſt from his attempt, but per⯑ſevering, Sylla ordered one of his ſatellites to ſtab him, and then threatened to ſerve any other perſon in the ſame manner, who ſhould attempt to invalidate his authority. By ſuch means as theſe, he was ſubmitted to with the moſt blind obedience. Whenever he propoſed laws, the people aſſembled, not to deliberate upon their fitneſs, but to give them the ſanction of their conſent. They found themſelves quite ejected from any concern in the ſtate, and ſaw nothing before them, but a proſpect of hope⯑leſs and confirmed ſlavery. It was at this junc⯑ture, that contrary to the expectations of all mankind, Sylla laid down the dictatorſhip, hav⯑ing held it not quite three years.

It was not without the greateſt ſurprize, that the people ſaw this conqueror, who had made himſelf ſo many enemies in every part of the ſtate, quitting a power he had earned by ſuch various dangers, and reducing himſelf to the rank of a private citizen. But their wonder encreaſed, when they heard him, after ſo many acts of cruelty, and ſuch numberleſs maſſacres, offering to take his trial before the people, whom he conſtituted judges of his conduct. Having diveſted him⯑ſelf in their preſence of his office, and diſmiſſed the lictors who guarded him, he continued to walk for ſome time in the Forum, unattended [383] and alone. At the approach of evening he re⯑tired homewards, the people following him all the way in a kind of ſilent aſtoniſhment, mix⯑ed with the profoundeſt reſpect. Of all that great multitude which he had ſo often inſulted and terrified, none was found hardy enough to reproach or accuſe him, except one young man, who purſued him with inſulting language to his own door. Sylla diſdained replying to ſo mean an adverſary, but turning to thoſe who attended him, obſerved, that this fellow's inſo⯑lence would for the future prevent any man's laying down an office of ſuch ſupreme autho⯑rity. It is not eaſy to divine the motives of Sylla's abdication, whether they were from vanity, or a deep laid ſcheme of policy. Whe⯑ther being ſatiated with the uſual adulation which he received for his conqueſts, he was now deſirous alſo of receiving ſome for his pa⯑triotiſm, or whether dreading an aſſaſſination from ſome ſecret enemy, he was willing to diſarm him, by retiring from the ſplendors of an envied ſituation. However this may be, he ſoon retired into the country, in order to enjoy the pleaſures of tranquility and ſocial happi⯑neſs; but he did not long ſurvive his abdica⯑tion; he died of that diſeaſe which is called, the morbus pedicularis, a loathſome object, and of mortifying to human ambition. He was the firſt of his family whoſe body was burnt, [384] for having ordered the remains of Marius to be taken out of his grave and thrown into the river Anio, he was apprehenſive of the ſame in⯑ſult upon his own, if left to the uſual way of burial. A little before his death, he made his own epitaph, the tenor of which was, That no man had ever exceeded him in doing good to his friends or injury to his enemies.

As ſoon as Sylla was dead, the old diſſenſions that had been ſmothered awhile by the terror of his power, burſt out again into a flame between the two factions, ſupported ſeverally by the two conſuls, Catulus and Lepidus, who were wholly oppoſite to each other in party and politics. Lepidus reſolved, at all adventures, to reſcind the acts of Sylla, and recall the exiled Marians, beginning openly to ſolicit the people to ſup⯑port him in that reſolution. This attempt, though plauſible, was at this time particularly unſeaſonable, when the ſtate was juſt recovering from the wounds it had lately received in the civil war. On the other hand Catulus, whoſe father had been condemned to die by Marius, inherit⯑ing the principles of his family, vigorouſly oppoſed, and effectually counter-acted the de⯑ſigns of his colleague. Lepidus thus finding himſelf unable to attain his ends, without re⯑curring to arms, retired to his government of Gaul, with intent to raiſe a force ſufficient to ſubdue all oppoſition, where the report of his [385] levies and military preparations gave ſuch um⯑brage to the ſenate, that they ſoon abrogated his command. Upon this, he advanced into Italy at the head of a large army, and marched in an hoſtile manner towards Rome, to demand a ſecond conſulſhip. He had with him, ſeveral of the chief magiſtrates, and the good wiſhes of all the tribunes, ſo that he hoped, by the popularity of his cauſe, to advance himſelf into Sylla's place, and uſurp the ſovereign au⯑thority of the ſtate. Catulus, in the mean time, upon the expiration of his office, was in⯑veſted with the charge of defending the govern⯑ment, and Pompey alſo was by a decree of the ſenate, joined with him in the ſame commiſſion. Theſe therefore, having united their forces be⯑fore Lepidus could reach the city, came to an engagement with him, near the Milvian Bridge, within two miles of Rome, where they totally routed and diſperſed his whole army. But Ciſ⯑alpine Gaul ſtill remaining in the poſſeſſion of Brutus, his lieutenant, and the father of him who afterwards killed Caeſar; Pompey went to re⯑duce that province, where, Brutus having ſuſ⯑tained a ſiege in Modena, was taken, and put to death by Pompey's order. As for Lepidus, he eſcaped into Sardinia, where he died ſoon after of grief, to ſee his hopes deſtroyed, and his country fallen under the ariſtocratical fac⯑tion.

[386] But the hopes of the Marian party did not entirely expire here. A more dangerous ene⯑my ſtill remained in Spain, who for a while made it doubtful, whether that province or Rome, ſhould poſſeſs the empire of the world. This was Sertorius, a veteran ſoldier who had his been bred under Marius, and had learned all virtues, without ſharing one of his vices. He was temperate, juſt, merciful and brave, but his military ſkill ſeemed to exceed that of any other general of his time. Upon the ex⯑tinction of the Marian party, this brave com⯑mander fell into the hands of Sylla, who diſ⯑miſſed him with life, upon account of his known moderation. Yet ſoon after, capriciouſly repenting of this clemency, he proſcribed and drove him to the neceſſity of ſeeking ſafety in a diſtant province. Sertorius being thus baniſhed from Rome, after ſeveral attempts on Africa and the coaſts of the Mediterranean, found at laſt a refuge in Spain, whither, all who fled from Sylla's cruelty, reſorted to him, of whom he formed a ſenate, that gave laws to the whole province. There, by his great abilities and cle⯑mency, he ſo gained the hearts of the warlike inhabitants, that for eight years he continued to ſuſtain a war againſt the whole power of the Roman ſtate. Metellus, an old experienced commander, was ſent againſt him at firſt, but he was ſo often out-generalled by his oppo⯑nent, [387] that the ſenate were forced to ſend their favourite Pompey to his aſſiſtance, with the beſt troops of the empire. Sertorius maintained his ground againſt them both, and after many en⯑gagements, in which he generally came off equal, and often ſuperior, he began to meditate nothing leſs than the invaſion of Italy. But all his ſchemes were baffled by the treachery of one of his own lieutenants, who was next him in command, and envied his riſing reputation. This wretch's name was Perpenna, who had ſome time before come over to him with the ſhattered remains of Lepidus's army, and was at firſt an uſeful aſſiſtant. However, a jealouſy ariſing be⯑tween them, Perpenna invited him to a ſumptu⯑ous entertainment, where having intoxicated all his attendants, he fell upon Sertorius, and trea⯑cherouſly murdered him. But this ſtroke of barbarity only ſerved to ruin his party, which had been entirely ſupported by the reputation of the general: for ſoon after, Perpenna being eaſily overthrown by Pompey, was taken pri⯑ſoner, and all the revolted provinces readily ſubmitted. The conqueror is celebrated on this occaſion, for an action of great prudence and generoſity. Perpenna in hopes to ſave his life, offered to make ſome important diſcoveries, and to put into his hands all the papers of Sertorius, in which were ſeveral letters to and from the principal ſenators of Rome. Pompey however▪ [388] rejecting his offer, ordered the traitor to be ſlain, and his papers to be burnt without reading them. By theſe means he eaſed the people of their fears, and prevented thoſe acts of deſperation, which the conſciouſneſs of being diſcovered might have given riſe to.

The preſent proſperity of Pompey was highly pleaſing at Rome; he had hitherto been ſucceſs⯑ful in all his affairs, and in this inſtance, as if fortune had delighted in giving him new op⯑portunities of ſerving his country, he ſeemed pe⯑culiarly fortunate. Upon his return, he fell in with a large body of ſlaves, that had eſcaped after their overthrow by Craſſus in Italy, and cut them to pieces. This inſurrection, which Pompey had the good fortune of thus terminating, was called the Servile war, and took its riſe from a few gla⯑diators, who broke from their fencing-ſchool at Capua, and having drawn a number of ſlaves after them, overthrew Glaber the praetor, who was ſent to ſuppreſs them; and from this ſucceſs, their number preſently encreaſed to an army of forty thouſand men. With this ſtrength, and headed by Spartacus their general, they ſuſtained a vigorous war for three years, in the very heart of Italy: they defeated ſeveral commanders of conſular and praetorian rank, and even began to talk of attacking Rome. But Craſſius having gathered about him all the forces which were near home, drove them before him to the extremity of [389] Rhegium, where for want of veſſels to make their eſcape, the greateſt part of them were de⯑ſtroyed, and among them Spartacus, fighting bravely to the laſt, at the head of his deſperate forces. It was the remainder of this wretched band, that Pompey happened to fall in with in his paſſage acroſs the Alps homeward, and as he expreſſed it to the ſenate, by deſtroying them, plucked up the war by the very roots. Thus ended all the civil wars which were excited by the ambition of Marius and Sylla, a long and diſmal period, in which the reader can ſide with neither party, as both were equally cruel, baſe, ſelf-intereſted and venal. The republic had been long fated to deſtruction, its former juſtice and moderation was gone, and it was immaterial who was to have the overwhelming of a cor⯑rupted empire.

Yet ſtill, during this interval which we have been deſcribing, all the arts of peace had been cultivated, and had riſen almoſt to the ſummit of perfection. Plautus and Terence, it is true, had flouriſhed ſome time before, but Lucretius, the boaſt of his age, who exceeds as much in poetry, as he falls ſhort in philoſophy, adorned thoſe ill-fated times, and charmed with the har⯑mony of his verſification. Learning however, was chiefly cultivated among the great, for lux⯑ury had not as yet ſufficiently deſcended to the meaner ranks, to make them reliſh the elegant [390] gratifications of life, for mankind muſt in ſome meaſure be ſatiated with the pleaſures of ſenſe, before they can think of making new inlets into the pleaſures of imagination.

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

U. C. 680 ALL factions being now apparently quelled in the empire, it was hoped, that peace would be reſtored, and that the commonwealth would have time to reſpire from the calamities it had ſuſtained during the civil war. But the ſpirit of ambition had entered into the ſtate, and the leading men now ſaw the poſſibility of obtain⯑ing ſovereign power by Sylla's example. Of theſe chiefly now in favour with the ſenate and the people, Pompey and Craſſus were foremoſt, both conquerors, both deſirous of power, and both aiming at it by extending their popularity. We have already ſeen Pompey, while very young, performing one of the moſt active parts in the conduct of the empire: we have ſeen him joining with, and conquering in the cauſe of Sylla: ſoon after ſent into Africa, and the firſt of the equeſtrian order who had a triumph. After that, ſiding againſt Lepidus, and then [391] conquering the army which had been in Spain commanded by Sertorius. To crown all, ho⯑noured with the conſulſhip in his abſence, and that before the conſular age. Theſe ſucceſſes had greatly inflamed his pride, and extended his de⯑ſire of glory. Craſſus, on the other hand, was equally deſirous of obtaining popularity, but being wholly unequal to his rival in military fame, took another road to come at it: this was by amaſſing riches, which he gathered from the calamities of his country, only to involve it in new diſtreſſes. He was uſed to ſay, that no man ſhould be reckoned wealthy, who was not able to maintain an army, and in fact, the number of his ſlaves was equal to a large one. He had beſides, the character of a good ſpeaker in the ſenate, and by his eaſy and familiar ad⯑dreſs, and a readineſs to aſſiſt all who wanted either his protection or his money, he acquired great authority in public affairs. Beſides the rivalſhip of power between theſe two great men, Craſſus had another cauſe of reſentment, which was, Pompey's aſſuming to himſelf the glory of terminating the Servile war, for which the other had actually received the honour of a triumph by the ſenate's command. Both therefore ſe⯑cretly wiſhed to undermine each other, neither with views of ridding his country of the over⯑grown power of an aſpiring citizen, but each with a deſire of eſtabliſhing his own.

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

However, the arts of Pompey ſeemed upon this occaſion to give him the ſuperiority. The tribunes, who were reſtored to all their former dignities, thought they could never ſufficiently recompence their benefactor: they only waited for an opportunity of gratifying his higheſt am⯑bition, [393] and this ſoon offered. A number of Pyrates formerty employed by Mithridates, had by the long continuance of their ſucceſs in plun⯑dering all they met, amaſſed great wealth, and got together many thouſand men of ſeveral nations. They made choice of Cilicia for their principal place of reſort, and not content with robbing by ſea, ventured even upon conqueſts by land. Italy itſelf was not free from their invaſions; where they often landed, and carried away what⯑ever they met with in their haſty incurſions. It was now therefore reſolved at Rome, to puniſh their inſolence by ſending out a fleet that was capable of utterly deſtroying their power. For this, Gabinius the tribune preferred a law, that Pompey ſhould be created admiral, with abſo⯑lute authority againſt the Pyrates for three years: that his power ſhould extend over the whole Mediterranean ſea and its coaſts, to a certain diſtance on land: that he ſhould raiſe as many ſoldiers and mariners as he ſhould think expedient; and that he ſhould have from the public treaſury, whatever ſums of money he ſhould think neceſſary for carrying on the war. This law which the ſenate vainly attempted to oppoſe, gave Pompey a degree of power which he might have eaſily converted to the detriment of his country: but nothing dange⯑rous was to be feared from a man whoſe actions always teſtified more of vanity than ambition.

[394] Pompey being thus furniſhed with abſolute power over the fleet, diſtributed his lieutenants through the ſeveral bays and harbours of the Mediterranean with ſo much judgment, that he ſoon forced the enemy from their ports. In the mean time, he himſelf, at the head of the largeſt ſquadron of his ſhipping, ſailed up and down, viſiting and inſtructing ſuch as he ſent upon duty. By theſe means, in leſs than forty days, he obliged the enemy to take refuge in Cilicia, the only retreat that was left them. He ſoon followed them there, with ſixty of his beſt ſhips, and though they had prepared to give him bat⯑tle, yet they, upon ſight of his fleet, and ſtruck with the terrors of his name, ſubmitted to his mercy. As their number amounted to above twenty thouſand men, he was unwilling to de⯑ſtroy them, and yet to permit their returning to their ancient habitations, was not ſafe. He therefore removed them to places farther diſtant from the ſea, where he gave them lands, and thus added new ſubjects and dominions to the empire of Rome.

This expedition having added greatly to Pompey's reputation, the tribunes now hoped it would be eaſier to advance their favourite ſtill higher; wherefore Manlius, one of the num⯑ber, preferred a law, that all the armies of the empire, with the government of all Aſia, toge⯑ther with the management of the war againſt [395] Mithridates and Tigranes, ſhould be committed to him alone. A power ſo great and unlimited, awakened all the jealouſy of the ſenate, this they conſidered as nothing leſs than proclaiming him ſovereign of the whole empire. This was giving one, already maſter of the whole fleet, an unlimited power by land, and even ſeemed to tempt him to enſlave his country. The weight of theſe reaſons, and ſtill more, the authority of the ſenate, were about to preponderate, and the tribunes ſeemed heſitating, whether they ſhould not withdraw their motion, when Marcus Tul⯑lius Cicero roſe up to ſecond the law, and to pay his tribute of eloquence to the virtues of Pompey. It was the firſt time that this orator had ever addreſſed the aſſembly of the people, but it was impoſſible but that eloquence muſt have been irreſiſtable then, which to this day conti⯑nues to charm and improve poſterity. The law paſſed with little oppoſition, the decree was confirmed by all the tribes of the people, and Pompey was thus peaceably inveſted with as great power, as Sylla had forced himſelf into through infinite difficulties.

Pompey being thus appointed to the com⯑mand of the war againſt Mithridates, immedi⯑ately departed for Aſia, having made the proper preparations towards forwarding the campaign. The war againſt this monarch was one of the moſt important that had been hitherto under⯑taken [396] by the Romans. We do not on this oc⯑caſion, read of princes already overcome by luxury and pride, or trembling at the ſplendor of the Roman name, but of a mighty king, un⯑daunted in every ſtage of his fortune, and like a lion, gaining new courage from every wound. His dominions were in fact well ſituated for ſupport⯑ing a war againſt an invading enemy. They bor⯑dered on the inacceſſible mountains of Mount Caucaſus, whoſe ſavage inhabitants he could bring into the field; they extended thence along the ſea of Pontus, which he covered with his ſhips: beſides he was rich, and ever purchaſing new armies among the Scythians, a people of invincible bravery. I have already mentioned the reſiſtance he made againſt Sylla, and the peace which that general forced him to accept: this however, being the effects of compulſion, laſted no longer, than while there were forces ſtrong enough to compel him to its obſervance. Murena, whom Sylla had left behind, attempting to reduce him to obedience, only met with diſ⯑grace, and at laſt, a total overthrow. Some time after, Mithridates having procured the al⯑liance of Tigranes, king of Armenia, invaded the kingdom of Bythinia, which he had been formerly obliged to reſign, and which had been lately bequeathed to the Romans by Nicome⯑des, the king of the country. To ſtop the pro⯑greſs of theſe conqueſts, Lucullus, an experienced [397] general, had been ſent from Rome, and upon his arrival, an engagement enſued, in which Mi⯑thridates loſt his whole army, and being obliged to eſcape by ſea, was very near falling into the hands of the enemy, had he not been taken up by a pyrate, who landed him ſafe in his own dominions. No way intimidated by theſe diſaſ⯑ters, he ſoon raiſed another army, and in the be⯑ginning gained ſome advantages over the enemy. But Lucullus ſoon after cut off all his internal re⯑ſources, and forced him to take ſhelter in the court of Tigranes, king of Armenia. The Roman general followed him thither alſo, and demand⯑ed him up; but Tigranes, though with no par⯑ticular attachment to the depoſed king, refuſed to deliver him, becauſe Lucullus had omitted giving him all his titles. Pride, it ſeems, was the reigning paſſion of this weak monarch; he was more deſirous of receiving homage, than of procuring power: it was uſual with him, to oblige the kings he had conquered to attend him as ſlaves, when he appeared in public, having aſſumed, from his ſucceſſes over the weaker ſtates around him, the title of monarch of all monarchies. This, it ſeems, was the title the Roman general diſdained granting him: the war now therefore changing its object, the generals of Tigranes were at firſt eaſily overcome, and though he ſoon after engaged at the head of two hundred and fifty thouſand men, yet he [398] met with no better ſucceſs. Theſe victories pro⯑miſed a ſpeedy end to the war, which had now been protracted for ſeven years, and though the conduct of it was once more devolved upon Mithridates, yet he being preſſed as much as ever, was obliged to take refuge in Leſſer Ar⯑menia. Thither Lucullus was preparing to fol⯑low him, when accounts came, that Glabrio, who had been conſul for the laſt year, was ap⯑pointed to diſplace Lucullus in his command, and was actually arrived in Aſia for that purpoſe. This diſgrace it ſeems was owing to the intrigues of ſome of Lucullus's own ſoldiers, who har⯑raſſed by perpetual fatigues, and debauched by factious officers, had privately ſent their com⯑plaints to the ſenate; wherefore, upon Glabrio's arrival, the whole army abandonned Lucullus, who could not ſee without indignation, their common enemy Mithridates reſume all his power, and recover the whole kingdom of Pontus, while Glabrio, teſtifying no inclination to enter upon a troubleſome command, conti⯑nued an idle ſpectator of his ſucceſſes, and choſe to ſtop ſhort in Bythinia. This mutinous ſpirit the troops of Lucullus, and the little in⯑clination Glabrio ſeemed to have of engaging, gave riſe to that general deſire which prevailed, of appointing Pompey to terminate the war, who ſhortly after went over into Aſia for that purpoſe.

[399] The firſt duty which he thought incumbent upon him on his arrival, was to propoſe terms of accommodation to Mithridates, but this mo⯑narch having a little reſpired from his great and numerous loſſes, determined to tempt his fortune while it ſeemed propitious. He had found means to collect a very conſiderable army from the wrecks of his former power, and was re⯑ſolved to follow the Romans into Armenia, where he expected to cut off their ſupplies: but being diſappointed in this, he was obliged to fly, having firſt killed all ſuch as were not able to accompany him in his retreat: however, he was purſued with great diligence by Pompey, and overtaken before he could have time to paſs the river Euphrates: though it was then night, being compelled to engage, it is ſaid, that the moon ſhining from behind the Roman army, lengthening their ſhadows ſo much, that the archers of Mithridates ſhot their arrows at theſe, miſtaking the ſhade for the ſubſtance. How⯑ever that be, his Aſiatic ſoldiers were unable to withſtand the force of the European infantry; he did all that lay in the power of a great and expe⯑rienced general, to lead them on to the charge and to prevent their terrors, but they could not be brought to endure the ſhock, cowardice and effe⯑m nacy having been then, as well as now, the characteriſtics of an E [...]ſtern army. Being thus again overthrown, with the loſs of almoſt all his [400] forces, and finding himſelf hemmed in on every ſide by the Romans, he made a deſperate effort, at the head of eight hundred horſe, to break through them, and thus effected his eſcape, though with the loſs of five hundred of his fol⯑lowers in the attempt. He had long been ac⯑quainted with diſtreſs, but his preſent ſituation ſeemed more deplorable than ever: he continued for ſeveral days ſorrowfully wandering through the foreſts that covered the country, leading his horſe in his hand, and ſubſiſting on whatever fruits he accidentally found on his way: in this forlorn ſituation he met with about three thouſand of his ſoldiers who had eſcaped from the general carnage, and by their aſſiſtance he was conduct⯑ed to one of the magazines, where he had de⯑poſited thoſe treaſures that were intended to ſupport the war. He ſent from thence to Ti⯑granes for aid, but that monarch was too much engaged in ſuppreſſing the rebellion of one of his own ſons at home, to be able to ſend any ſuccours abroad. Diſappointed on that ſide, ſtill however, he would not deſpair, but fled to Col⯑chis, a ſtate which had formerly acknowledged his power. Being purſued thither alſo by Pom⯑pey, he took another dreadful journey, croſſed the Araxes, marched from danger to danger, through the country of the Lazi, and aſſem⯑bling all the barbarians he met with in his way, induced the Scythian princes to declare againſt [401] Rome▪ Stedfaſt in his enmity, he continued his oppoſition, even though he found his own family confederating againſt him. Although betrayed by his ſon Macharis, and tho' his life was attempted by Pharnaces, yet he ſtill aimed at great deſigns, and even in the heart of Aſia, projected the invaſion of the Roman empire: this he intended to effect by marching into Eu⯑rope, and there being joined by the fierce na⯑tions that inhabited Germany and Gaul, to croſs the Alps, into Italy, as Hannibal had done before him: but his timid Aſiatic ſoldiers were ill-diſpoſed to ſecond the great views of their leader. Upon being apprized of his in⯑tentions, a mutiny enſued, which was promoted by his ſon Pharnaces, who had been long deſirous of gaining the favour of Pompey by parricide. Mithridates being thus obliged to take refuge in his palace, to eſcape the fury of the army, ſent to his ſon for leave to depart, offering him the free poſſeſſion of all that remained of his wretched fortunes, and his title to thoſe dominions, of which he had been deprived by the Romans. To this, the unnatural ſon made no direct reply, conſcious that he was offered only what could not be taken away, but turning to the ſlave that brought him themeſſage, he bade him, with a ſtern countenance, tell his father, that death was all that now remained for him. Such an horrid inſtance of filial impiety added new [402] poignance to the wretched monarch's afflic⯑tion, he could not refrain from venting his im⯑precations, and from wiſhing that ſuch an unnatu⯑ral child might, one day, meet with ſimilar ingra⯑titude from his own children. Upon this, com⯑ing down from his own appartment, where he had been for ſome time alone, he entered that particularly aſſigned to his wives, children and domeſtics, where he bid all thoſe prepare for death, who did not chuſe to undergo the hor⯑rors of a Roman captivity. They all readily conſented to die with their monarch, and chear⯑fully taking the poiſon which he had in readi⯑neſs, expired before him. As for himſelf, hav⯑ing uſed his body much to antidotes, the poiſon had but little effect, whereupon he attempted to diſpatch himſelf with his ſword, but that alſo failing, a Gauliſh ſoldier, whoſe name was Bi⯑taeus, performed this friendly office. Thus died Mithridates, betrayed by his ſon, and forſaken by an army that ſeemed terrified at the greatneſs of his enterprizes. His fortune was various, his courage always the ſame: he had for twenty⯑five years oppoſed Rome, and though he was often betrayed by his captains, his children, and his wives, yet he continually found reſources againſt his enemies, and was formidable to the very laſt.

In the mean time, Pompey was diligently employed in purſuing his advantages over Ti⯑granes, [403] who had not only to reſiſt the Romans, but his own three ſons that had united in rebel⯑lion againſt him. Two of theſe he had the for⯑tune to overthrow, and put to death, but he was ſoon after compelled by Pompey to ſurrender. His remaining ſon, who had taken refuge in the Roman camp, did all that lay in his power to prevent a reconciliation, but Pompey repri⯑manding his diſobedience, treated the old king with great humanity, and reſtored him the greateſt part of his former dominions, only depriving him of his conqueſts, and fining him ſix thouſand ta⯑lents towards defraying the expences of the war. His ſon continuing ſtill averſe to the treaty, and threatening his father's life, was confined by the general's command, in order to be reſerved for his triumph into Rome. Nothing now there⯑fore being able to check the progreſs of Pompey's arms, he marched onward, over the vaſt moun⯑tains of Taurus, ſetting up and depoſing kings at pleaſure. Darius the king of Media, and Antiochus king of Syria, were compelled to ſubmit to his clemency; Phraates king of Par⯑thia, was obliged to retire, and ſend to entreat a peace. From thence, extending his conqueſts over the Thuraeans and Arabians, he reduced all Syria and Pontus into Roman provinces. Then turning towards Judea, he ſummoned Ariſtobulus, who had uſurped the prieſthood from his elder brother Hyrcanus, to appear be⯑fore [404] him: but Ariſtobulus had fortified the temple of Jeruſalem againſt him, and refuſed to anſwer. This venerable place, which was thus converted into a garriſon, being very ſtrong from its ſituation, held out for three months, but was at laſt taken, and twelve thouſand of its defenders ſlain. Pompey en⯑tered this great ſanctuary with a mixture of re⯑ſolution and fear; he ſhewed an eager curioſity to enter into the Holy of Holies: there he gazed for ſome time upon thoſe things which it was unlawful for any but the prieſts themſelves to behold. Notwithſtanding he ſhewed ſo much veneration for the place, that he forbore touch⯑ing any of the vaſt treaſures depoſited there. After reſtoring Hyrcanus to the prieſthood and government, he took Ariſtobulus with him, to grace his triumph upon his return. This tri⯑umph, which laſted two days, was the moſt ſplendid that had ever entered the gates of Rome: therein were expoſed the names of fif⯑teen conquered kingdoms, eight hundred cities taken, twenty-nine repeopled, and a thouſand caſtles brought to acknowledge the empire of Rome. Among the priſoners led in triumph, appeared the ſon of Tigranes, Ariſtobulus king of Judea, the ſiſter of Mithridates, together with the hoſtages of the Albanians, Iberians, and the king of Comagena. The treaſures that were brought home, amounted to near four [405] millions of our money, and the trophies and other ſplendors of the proceſſion were ſuch, that the ſpectators ſeemed loſt in the magnifi⯑cent profuſion. All theſe victories however, rather ſerved to heighten the glory, than to en⯑creaſe the power of Rome, they only made it a more glaring object of ambition, and expoſed its liberties to greater danger. Thoſe liberties indeed, ſeemed devoted to ruin on every ſide, for even while Pompey was purſuing his con⯑queſts abroad, Rome was at the verge of ruin, from a conſpiracy at home.

This conſpiracy was projected and carried on by Sergius Catiline, a patrician by birth, who reſolved to build his own power on the downfal of his country. He was ſingularly formed both by art and nature to conduct a conſpiracy: he was poſſeſſed of courage, equal to the moſt deſ⯑perate attempts, and eloquence to give a colour to his ambition: ruined in his fortunes, profli⯑gate in his manners, and vigilant in purſuing his aims: he was inſatiable after wealth, only with a view to laviſh it in his guilty pleaſures: in ſhort, as Cicero deſcribes him, he was a com⯑pound of oppoſite paſſions, intemperate to ex⯑ceſs, yet patient of labour to a wonder; ſevere with the virtuous, debauched with the gay, ſo that he had all the vicious for his friends by in⯑clination, and he attached even ſome of the good, by the ſpecious ſhew of pretended virtue. [406] However, his real character was at length very well known at Rome; he had been accuſed of debauching a veſtal virgin; he was ſuſpected of murdering his ſon, to gratify a criminal paſſion; and it was notorious, that in the proſcription of Sylla, he had killed his own brother, to make his court to the tyrant.

Catiline having contracted many debts by the looſeneſs of ſuch an ill-ſpent life, was reſolved to extricate himſelf from them by any means however unlawful: his firſt aim therefore was at the conſulſhip, in which he hoped to repair his ſhattered fortune, by the plunder of the pro⯑vinces, but in this he was fruſtrated. This diſ⯑grace ſo operated upon a mind naturally warm, that he inſtantly entered into an aſſociation with Piſo and ſome others, of deſperate fortunes like himſelf, in which it was reſolved to kill the conſuls that had been juſt choſen, with ſeveral other ſenators, and to ſhare the government among themſelves. Theſe deſigns however, were diſcovered before they were ripe for action, and the ſenate took care to obviate their effects. Some time after, he again ſued for the conſul⯑ſhip, and was again diſappointed; the great Cicero, whoſe character will be given hereafter, being preferred before him. Enraged at theſe repeated mortifications, he now breathed no⯑thing but revenge: his deſign was, had he then obtained the conſulſhip, and with it the com⯑mand [407] of the armies of the empire, to have ſeized upon the liberties of his country, and go⯑verned alone. At length, impatience under his diſappointments would not permit him to wait for the ripening of his ſchemes, wherefore he formed the mad reſolution of uſurping the em⯑pire, though yet without means adequate to the execution.

Many of thoſe who were in the former con⯑ſpiracy of Piſo, ſtill remained attached to his intereſts: theſe he aſſembled to about the num⯑ber of thirty, where he informed them of his aims and his hopes, ſettled a plan of opera⯑tions, and fixed a day for the execution. It was reſolved among them, that a general inſur⯑rection ſhould be raiſed throughout Italy, the different parts of which were aſſigned to the different leaders. Rome was to be fired in ſe⯑veral places at once; and Catiline, at the head of an army raiſed in Etruria, was in the general confuſion to poſſeſs himſelf of the city, and maſſacre all the ſenators. Lentulus, one of his profligate aſſiſtants, who had been praetor or judge in the city, was to preſide in their general councils: Cethegus, a man who ſacrificed the poſſeſſion of great preſent power, to the hopes of gratifying his revenge againſt Cicero, was to direct the maſſacre through the city, and Caſſius was to conduct thoſe who fired it. But the vigilance of Cicero being a chief obſtacle [408] to their deſigns, Catiline was very deſirous to ſee him taken off before he left Rome; upon which, two knights of the company undertook to kill him the next morning in his bed, in an early viſit on pretence of buſineſs. The meet⯑ing however, was no ſooner over, than Cicero had information of all that paſſed in it, for by the intrigues of a woman, named Fulvia, he had gained over Curius, her lover and one of the conſpirators, to ſend him a punctual account of all their deliberations. Having taken proper precautions to guard himſelf againſt the deſigns of his morning viſitors, who were punctual to the appointment; he next took care to provide for the defence of the city, and aſſembling the ſenate, conſulted what was beſt to be done in this time of danger. The firſt ſtep taken, was to offer conſiderable rewards for farther diſco⯑veries, and then to prepare for the defence of the ſtate. Catiline, to ſhew how well he could diſſemble or juſtify any crime, went boldly to the ſenate, declaring his innocence, and offering to give any ſecurity for his behaviour. Theſe pro⯑feſſions, urged with an apparent humility, gain⯑ed over many of the Roman ſenators, but Ci⯑cero incenſed at his effrontery, inſtead of pur⯑ſuing the buſineſs of the day, roſe up, and ad⯑dreſſing himſelf to Catiline, broke out into a moſt ſevere invective againſt him. The ſpeech is ſtill remaining in which, with all the fire of [409] incenſed eloquence, he lays open the whole courſe of his crimes, and the particulars of his preſent impeachment. When Cicero was ſeated, Catiline roſe in his turn, and with well prepared diſſimulation, and a dejected countenance, be⯑ſought the ſenate not over raſhly to credit vain reports concerning him, nor believe, that a perſon of his rank, whoſe anceſtors, and whoſe ſervices demanded rather fame than cenſure, could be guilty of ſuch vile imputations. While he was continuing his defence, and beginning to introduce ſome reflections againſt the conſul, the chief of which was the obſcurity of his original, the ſenate refuſed to hear him; whereupon he declared aloud, that ſince he was denied a vin⯑dication of himſelf, and driven headlong by his enemies, he would extinguiſh the flame which was raiſed about him, in univerſal ruin: thus ſaying, he ruſhed out of the aſſembly, threaten⯑ing deſtruction to all his oppoſers. As ſoon as he was returned to his houſe, and began to re⯑flect on what had paſſed, he perceived it vain to diſſemble any longer; wherefore, reſolving to enter at once into action, before the com⯑monwealth was prepared to oppoſe him, after a ſhort conference with Lentulus and Cethegus, he left Rome by night with a ſmall retinue, to make the beſt of his way towards Etruria, were Manlius, one of the conſpirators was raiſ⯑ing an army to ſupport him.

[410] In the mean time, Cicero took proper pre⯑cautions to ſecure all thoſe of the conſpiracy who remained in Rome, and induced the peo⯑ple by the power of his eloquence to ſecond his deſigns. Lentulus, Cethegus, Caeſius and ſe⯑veral others were put in confinement, and it was propounded to the ſenate, what courſe ſhould be taken with the priſoners. The prin⯑cipal evidences againſt them were the ambaſſa⯑dors of the Allobroges, a fierce people inhabit⯑ing the countries now called Dauphiny and Sa⯑voy, who depoſed, that they had been applied to, to furniſh a body of horſe whenever the war ſhould begin, but that being apprehenſive of the danger, they had declined the propoſal, at the ſame time producing the letters of Lentulus to them for that purpoſe, marked with his own ſeal. Upon this, a great debate aroſe in the houſe concerning the puniſhment of the priſoners, a deliberation of great delicacy and impor⯑tance. Capital puniſhments were rare and even odious in Rome, while on the other hand, the crimes of which they were convicted, required a quick and exemplary puniſhment. Silanus, the enſuing year's conſul, was of opinion, that they ſhould all be put to death; to this, all who ſpoke after him readily aſſented, till it came to Julius Caeſar's turn to deliver his opi⯑nion. This extraordinary man, who was cho⯑ſen praetor for the enſuing year, had from the [411] very beginning of his life marked out a way to univerſal empire, and now thought, that a ſhew of clemency upon this occaſion, would conci⯑liate the favour of the people. It is ſuppoſed alſo by ſome, that he ſecretly favoured the con⯑ſpiracy, and only waited for its firſt fortunes, to put himſelf at its head. He therefore obſerved, in an elegant and elaborate ſpeech (for of all orators in the commonwealth, Cicero alone ex⯑celled him) that thoſe who opined for death, were on the merciful ſide, ſince death was but the relief of the miſerable, and left no ſenſe of good or ill beyond it. The heinouſneſs of the preſent crime, he ſaid, might juſtify any ſeve⯑rity, but the example was dangerous in a free ſtate, where power ſometimes happened to fall into bad hands. Though no danger could be apprehended from ſuch a conſul as Cicero, yet in other times, and under other conſuls, none could tell how far juſtice might ſtop ſhort of cruelty: his opinion therefore, was that the conſpirators ſhould be ſentenced to perpetual confinement. His ſpeech, delivered with all the arts of a complete orator, ſeemed to make great impreſſion on the whole aſſembly: Silanus himſelf began to excuſe and mitigate the ſeverity of his former ſentence, and even the friends of the conſul were almoſt con⯑vinced, when Porcius Cato at laſt ſtood up to oppoſe it: No two characters could be more oppoſite, than his to that of the former ſpeaker. [412] Caeſar was merciful, gentle and inſinuating; Cato, ſevere, forceful and overbearing; Caeſar loved his country, in hopes one day to govern it; Cato loved it more than other countries, only becauſe he thought it more free: the one ſcrupled no means, however illicit, to attain his ends; the other laboured but to one end, by one way, the moſt exalted juſtice conducting him to the moſt inflexible virtue. In fact, the opinions of the Greek philoſophers began to give a bent to the diſpoſitions of the great men of the time, ſo that Caeſar was a follower of Epicurus, and Cato was a rigid ſtoic. He be⯑gan therefore, by deſcribing Cicero as he really was, a man dignified with almoſt every virtue conducive to his own happineſs, together with all the talents that could improve happineſs in others. He proceeded, by wondering how any debate could ariſe about puniſhing men, who had begun an actual war upon their country: that he had never pardoned in himſelf, the very wanderings of his heart, and could not eaſily forgive the moſt flagitious actions in others: that they were not deliberating on the fate of the priſoners only, but on that of Catiline's whole army, which would be animated or de⯑jected, in proportion to the vigour of their de⯑crees: wherefore his opinion was, ſince the cri⯑minals had been convicted both by teſtimony and their own confeſſion, that they ſhould ſuffer [413] death, according to the cuſtom of their anceſ⯑tors, in circumſtances of the like nature. His ſpeech was ſeconded by another, ſtill more forceful, from Cicero, and theſe carried ſuch conviction, that they put an end to the debate. The vote for the death of the conſpirators was no ſooner paſſed, than Cicero reſolved to put it in execution, leſt the night, which was com⯑ing on, ſhould produce any new diſturbance. Lentulus, Cethegus, and the reſt, were therefore taken from their reſpective ſureties, and con⯑ducted by the chief magiſtrates, who delivered them over to the executioners, who preſently ſtrangled them in priſon.

In the mean time, Catiline had raiſed an army of twelve thouſand men, of which a fourth part only was compleatly armed, the reſt begin furniſhed with what chance afforded, darts, lances and clubs. He refuſed at firſt to enliſt ſlaves, who flocked to him in great numbers, truſting to the proper ſtrength of the conſpi⯑racy; but upon the approach of the conſul, who was ſent againſt him, and the arrival of the news, that his confederates were put to death in Rome, the face of his affairs was en⯑tirely altered. His firſt attempt therefore, was by long marches, to make his eſcape over the Appennines into Gaul; but in this his hopes were diſappointed, all the paſſes being ſtrictly guarded by an army under Metellus, ſuperior [414] to his own. Being thus hemmed in on every ſide, and ſeeing all things deſperate, with no⯑thing left him, but either to die or conquer, [...]e reſolved to make one vigorous effort againſt that army which purſued him. Antonius the conſul being himſelf ſick, the command devolved upon his lieutenant, Petreius, who after a fierce and bloody action, in which he loſt a conſiderable part of his beſt troops, deſtroyed Catiline and his whole army, which fought deſperately to the laſt man: they all fell in the very ranks in which they ſtood when alive, and as if inſpired with the ſpirit of their leader, fought not ſo much to conquer, as to ſell a bloody victory, and to mingle public calamity with their private ruin. The commonwealth being thus freed from their apprehenſions of danger, unanimouſ⯑ly concurred in their applauſes of Cicero, whoſe councils had been the chief means of removing them. Public thanks were decreed him by the ſenate, and at the inſtance of Cato, he was ſtyl⯑ed the Father of his country, the people, with loud acclamations, confirming the juſtice of the decree.

The extinction of this conſpiracy ſeemed only to leave an open theatre for the ambition of the great men of the ſtate to diſplay itſelf in. Pom⯑pey was now returned in triumph from conquer⯑ing the Eaſt, as he had before been victorious in Europe and Africa. Every eye was fixed [415] upon him, as being the moſt powerful man in the ſtate, and capable of governing it at his pleaſure. His ſucceſs in war had procured him the ſurname of Great, and he was ſtill more pleaſed with the title, than the conſciouſneſs of deſerving it. This was the poſt his ambition aimed at, he ſeemed more deſirous of being the leader, than the ruler of his country; of being applauded, than obeyed. He had it in his power often to make himſelf maſter of the ſtate by force, but he either declined the fatigue of it, or lived in perpetual expectation of receiving as a gift, what he did not chuſe to extort by vio⯑lence. His parts were ſpecious, rather than pe⯑netrating, and his chief inſtrument in govern⯑ing, was diſſimulation: but being a better ſol⯑dier than ſtateſman, he was adored abroad, and gained in the camp that homage which was de⯑nied him at home.

The firſt thing he did upon his return, was to direct the election of both the conſuls, by whoſe help he hoped he ſhould readily obtain the ratification of all that he had diſpoſed of in Aſia, together with a diſtribution of lands to his ſoldiers, of part of the countries they had conquered. However, he was diſappointed in both theſe expectations; the ſenate, who began to ſee and dread his power, were deſirous of be⯑ſieging it by every oppoſition. The two conſuls turned againſt him as well as the reſt, and were [416] ſeconded by all thoſe who were not the profeſt inſtruments of his party. The tribune Fl [...]vius, who was the promoter of the law, impatient of the delay, and animated by Pompey's power, had the hardineſs to commit Metellus the con⯑ſul to priſon, and when all the ſenate followed, and reſolved to go to priſon with him, the tri⯑bune put his chair againſt the door to keep them out. This violence however, gave ſuch offence to the people, that Pompey found it adviſeable to draw off the tribune, and relea [...]e the conſul. From this oppoſition in the ſenate, he began to find, that his own intereſt alone, would not be ſufficient to rule the common⯑wealth, without taking in ſome of the moſt powerful men of the ſtate, not as partners, to divide his power, but as inſtruments to aſſiſt i [...].

Craſſus, as we have already obſerved, was the richeſt man in Rome, and next him, poſ⯑ſeſſed of the greateſt authority: his party in the ſenate was even ſtronger than that of Pompey, his rival, and the envy raiſed againſt him was leſs. He and Pompey had been long diſunited by an oppoſition of intereſts, and of characters: however, it was from a continuance of their mutual jealouſies, that the ſtate was in ſome meaſure to expect its future ſafety. It was in this ſituation of things, that Julius Caeſar, who had lately gone praetor into Spain, and had re⯑turned with great riches and glory, reſolved to [417] convert their mutual jealouſy to his own ad⯑vantage. This celebrated man was nephew to Marius by the female line, and deſcend⯑ed from one of the moſt illuſtrious families in Rome: he had already mounted by the re⯑gular gradations of office, having been quae⯑ſtor, aedile, and grand pontiff, and praetor in Spain. Being deſcended from popular anceſtors, he warmly eſpouſed the ſide of the people, and ſhortly after, the death of Sylla procured thoſe whom he had baniſhed to be recalled. He had all along declared for the populace againſt the ſenate, and by this became their moſt favourite magiſtrate. He had received proper intelligence during his adminiſtration in Spain, of what was going forward, and reſolved to return, to im⯑prove occurrences in his favour. His ſervices in Spain had deſerved a triumph, and his ambi⯑tion aſpired at the conſulſhip. However, it was contrary to law for him to have both, for to obtain the conſulſhip, he muſt come into the city, and by entering the city, he was diſquali⯑fied for a triumph. In this dilemma, he pre⯑ferred ſolid power to empty parade, and deter⯑mined to ſtand for the conſulſhip, at the ſame time, reſolving to attach the two moſt power⯑ful men in the ſtate to him, by effecting their reconciliation. He accordingly began firſt, by offering his ſervices to Pompey, promiſing him his aid in having all his acts paſſed, notwithſtand⯑ing [418] the ſenate's oppoſition. Pompey, pleaſ⯑ed at the acquiſition of a perſon of ſo much merit, readily granted him his confidence and protection. He next applied to Craſſus, who from former connexions was diſpoſed to become ſtill more nearly his friend: at length, finding neither averſe to an union of intereſts, he took an opportunity of bringing them together; and remonſtrating to them the advantage, as well as the neceſſity of a re⯑conciliation, had art enough to perſuade them to forget former animoſities. A combination was thus formed, by which they agreed, that nothing ſhould be done in the commonwealth, but what received their mutual concurrence and approbation. This was called the firſt Triumvirate, by which we find the conſtitution weakened by a new intereſt, that had not hi⯑therto taken place in the government, very dif⯑ferent from that either of the ſenate or the people, and yet dependant on both. A power like this however, as it depended upon the nice conduct of different intereſts, could not be of long continuance, and in fact, it was ſoon after ſwallowed up in the military power, which took away even the ſhadow of liberty.

CHAP. XXI. From the beginning of the firſt Triumvirate to the death of Pompey. U. C. 694

THE commonwealth might at this time be conſidered, as made up of three different bo⯑dies, each purſuing ſeparate intereſts. The Tri⯑umvirate aiming at ſovereign authority, and de⯑ſirous, by depreſſing the ſenate and alluring the people, to extend their own influence. The ſenate, equally apprehenſive of the three great men who controled them, and of the people who oppoſed them, formed a middle intereſt between both, and deſirous of re-eſtabliſhing the ariſtocracy which had been ſet up by Sylla, gave their ſtruggles the name of freedom. The people, on the other hand, were deſirous of freedom in the moſt extenſive ſenſe, and with a fatal blind⯑neſs, only apprehenſive of the invaſion of it from the ſide of the ſenate gave all their in⯑fluence to the triumvirate, whoſe promiſes were great, and pretences ſpecious.

The firſt thing Caeſar did, upon being taken into the triumvirate, was to avail himſelf of the intereſt of his confederates to obtain the conſulſhip. The ſenate had ſtill ſome ſmall in⯑fluence [420] left, and though they were obliged to chuſe him, yet they gave him for a colleague, one Bibulus, who they ſuppoſod would be a check upon his power: but the oppoſition was too ſtrong, for even ſuperior abilities to reſiſt it, ſo that Bibulus, after a ſlight attempt in favour of the ſenate, remained inactive the ſucceeding part of the year. Caeſar however, was by no means ſo, but began his ſchemes for empire, by ingratiating himſelf with the people. He pre⯑ferred a law for dividing certain lands in Cam⯑pania, among ſuch of the poor citizens, as had at leaſt three children. This propoſal was juſt enough in itſelf, and only criminal from the views of the propoſer. The ſenate being reſolved to oppoſe him in all his ſchemes, endeavoured to thwart him in this, which only ſerved to ex⯑aſperate the people ſtill more againſt them▪ The multitude drove them from the place of aſſembling with ſtones: Cato and Bibulus, who were moſt active againſt the law, were compelled to retire, and the reſt of the ſenate were obliged to take an oath, to confirm the obſervance of it. During this ſtruggle, Pompey and Craſſus became the dupes of their aſſociate, driving the law forward with all their activity and intereſt: the former publickly declared, that if any would come (as he was informed they would) with ſwords to oppoſe it, he would be the firſt to lift up his ſhield in its defence. [421] By this conduct he loſt all his former influence in the ſenate, while Caeſar only gained all the popularity of a law, which was of his own propoſing. From that time he acted entirely without the aſſiſtance of his colleague, ſo that it was jeſtingly called the conſulſhip of Julius, and Caeſar intimating, that all things were done only by him.

Having thus ingratiated himſelf with the people, his next ſtep was to procure the favour of the knights, who made a very powerful body in the ſtate. They had for many years been the the financers or farmers of the public revenue, and by that means had acquired vaſt riches, however, they now began to complain of their inability to pay the ſtipulated ſums into the treaſury. Caeſar therefore procured a law to abate a third part of their diſburſements, notwithſtanding the oppoſition of the ſenate. In this manner, having advanced his influence among the lower orders of the ſtate, he deter⯑mined to attach Pompey ſtill more cloſely to him, by giving him his daughter Julia in mar⯑riage, a woman with every accompliſhment that could tend to cement their confederacy.

Having thus ſtrengthened himſelf at home, he next deliberated with his confederates, about ſharing the foreign provinces of the empire be⯑tween them. The partition was ſoon made, Pompey choſe Spain for his own part; for be⯑ing [422] fatigued with conqueſt, and ſatiated with military fame, he was willing to take his plea⯑ſures at Rome; and there being no appearance of revolt in that province, he knew it could eaſily be governed by his lieutenant. Craſſus choſe Sy⯑ria for his part of the empire, which province, as it had hitherto enriched the generals who had ſubdued it, would, he hoped, gratify him in this his moſt favourite purſuit. To Caeſar was left the provinces of Gaul, compoſed of many fierce and powerful nations, moſt of them unſubdued, and the reſt only profeſſing a nominal ſubjection. Wherefore, as it was ra⯑ther appointing him to conquer than command, this government was granted him for five years, as if, by its continuance, to compenſate for its dan⯑ger. Having thus divided the empire between them, they each of them prepared for their reſpec⯑tive deſtinations, but previous to Caeſar's ſetting out, there was ſtill an obſtacle that ſeemed to blaſt his aims, and which he wiſhed to have removed. This was Tullius Cicero, whom we have al⯑ready ſeen, by his penetration and eloquence, defeating the conſpiracy of Catiline, and who ſtill continued a watchful guardian over the li⯑berties of Rome. This great orator and ſtateſ⯑man, or to give him an higher appellation ſtill, this excellent philoſopher had, from a very humble original, raiſed himſelf into the fore⯑moſt rank of the ſtate: he was endowed with [423] all the wiſdom and all the virtues that could adorn a man. However, his wiſdom, by di⯑recting his views over too wide a ſphere, often overlooked thoſe advantages, which are clearly diſcerned by ſhort-ſighted cunning, and his vir⯑tues, by being applauded by others, and receiv⯑ing his own conſcious approbation, enclined him to vanity. He ſeemed, in his general con⯑duct, guilty of a fault too common with men of great abilities, a deſire of uniting in himſelf incompatible qualities, which gave an air of ri⯑dicule to his greateſt actions. Thus, while he aimed at being the firſt orator in the ſtate, he was eager alſo to be thought the beſt jeſter; while he taught men to contemn vanity, he was ſeen earneſtly intriguing for the honour of a triumph, which however he had done nothing to merit. While no man ſaw the corruptions of the times more clearly than he, yet he had hopes of governing ſo corrupt a commonwealth without fraud. Thus, though he ſaw through every perſon he converſed with, yet he ſuffered himſelf to be the dupe of many, rather than recede from the rectitude of his aims. It was no wonder therefore, that Caeſar was deſirous of expelling ſuch a character from the republic, which was ſo unlike his own: to effect this, he reſolved to take into his party Publius Clodius, a man of patrician birth, diſſolute manners, great popularity and an inveterate enemy of Cicero. [424] Beſides an oppoſition of character, a principal cauſe of their enmity was, Cicero's having for⯑merly appeared againſt him upon his trial before the people, for an offence againſt the matrons of Rome, whoſe myſteries he had intruded upon dreſſed in woman's cloaths. He was at this time a tribune of the people, although he had been obliged to get himſelf adopted by a ple⯑beian, before he could obtain that office. The hopes of revenging himſelf upon Cicero, in ſome meaſure incited him to ſtand for it, and the concurrence of Caeſar and Pompey with his pretenſions, ſoon aſſured him of ſucceſs. He therefore publickly began to accuſe Cicero, for having put the late conſpirators to death, who being citizens, ought to have been adjudged by the people. Cicero, terrified at this accuſation, did all that lay in his power to oppoſe it. He applied to Caeſar to take him as his lieutenant into Gaul, but Clodius had art enough to allure him from that deſign, by pretending, that his reſentment was rather a matter of form than of revenge. Pompey too contributed to put him off his guard by a promiſe of protection, ſo that the cunning of theſe men of moderate abi⯑lities was more than a match for the wiſdom of the philoſopher. Clodius having firſt cauſed a law to be enacted, importing, that any who had condemned a Roman citizen unheard, ſhould himſelf be baniſhed, ſoon after im⯑peached [425] Cicero upon it. It was in vain that this great man went up and down the city, ſo⯑liciting his cauſe in the habit of a ſuppliant, and attended by many of the firſt young noble⯑men whom he had taught the rules of elo⯑quence; thoſe powers of ſpeaking which had been ſo often ſucceſsful in defending the cauſe of others, totally ſeemed to forſake him in his own; he was baniſhed by the votes of the people, four hundred miles from Italy; his houſes were ordered to be demoliſhed, and his goods ſet up to ſale. None now remained that could defend the part of the ſenate but Cato, and he was ſhortly after ſent into Cyprus, under pretence of doing him a favour, but in reality in order to leave an open theatre for the triumvirate to act in. Cae⯑ſar, during theſe intrigues, pretended to be an unconcerned ſpectator, and to be wholly occu⯑pied in his preparations for going into Gaul. He in fact, left nothing undone, that might ad⯑vance the ſpeed, or encreaſe the ſtrength of this expedition; wherefore, leaving Pompey to guard their mutual intereſts at home, he march⯑ed into his province at the head of four legions, that were granted him by the ſenate, and two more that were lent him by his new aſſociate in the empire.

It would be impoſſible in the narrow compaſs which I have aſſigned myſelf, to enumerate all the battles Caeſar fought, and the ſtates he ſubdued, [426] in his expeditions into Gaul and Britain, which continued eight years. He has himſelf given a detail of them in his Commentaries, a work which does as much honour to his abilities as a writer, as his conduct did to his talents as a general. To abridge ſuch a work, is but to de⯑ſtroy it; to turn it into a dry catalogue of names, that ceaſe to intereſt, and of battles that would appear to be all the ſame: it will be ſufficient juſt to mention thoſe victories which a great and experienced general, at the head of a diſciplined army, gained over the barbarous and tumultuary, though numerous forces, that were led to oppoſe him. The Helvetians were the firſt that were brought into ſubjection, with the loſs of near two hundred thouſand men; thoſe who remained after the carnage, were ſent by Caeſar, in ſafety to their foreſts, from whence they had iſſued. The Germans, with Arioviſtus at their head, were next cut off, to the number of eighty thouſand, their monarch himſelf narrowly eſcaping in a little boat acroſs the Rhine. The Belgae were cut off with ſuch great ſlaughter, that marſhes and deep rivers were rendered paſſable from the heaps of ſlain. The Nervians, who were the moſt warlike of thoſe barbarous nations, made head for a ſhort time, and fell upon the Romans with ſuch fury, that their army was in danger of being utterly routed; but Caeſar himſelf haſtily catch⯑ing [427] up a buckler, ruſhed through his army into the midſt of the enemy, by which means, he ſo turned the fate of the day, that the barba⯑rians were all cut off to a man. The Celtic Gauls, who were powerful at ſea, were next brought under ſubjection. After them, the Suevi, the Menapii, and all the nations from the Mediterranean to the Britiſh ſea. From thence, ſtimulated by the deſire of conqueſt, he croſſed over into Britain, upon pretence, that the natives had furniſhed his enemies with con⯑tinual ſupplies. Upon approaching the ſhores, he found them covered with men to oppoſe his landing, and his forces were in danger of be⯑ing driven back, till the ſtandard-bearer of the tenth legion boldly leaped aſhore, and being well aſſiſted by Caeſar, the natives were put to flight. The Britons being terrified at Caeſar's power, ſent to deſire a peace, which was granted them, and ſome hoſtages delivered. A ſtorm however, ſoon after deſtroying great part of his fleet, they reſolved to take advantage of the diſaſter, and marched againſt him with a pow⯑erful army. But what could a naked undiſci⯑plined army do againſt forces that had been exerciſed under the greateſt generals, and hard⯑ened by the conqueſt of the greateſt part of the world. Being overthrown, they were obli⯑ged once more to ſue for peace, which Caeſar granted them, and then returned to the conti⯑nent. [428] But his abſence once more inſpired this people, naturally fond of liberty, with a reſolu⯑tion to diſclaim the Roman power, wherefore, he reſolved upon a ſecond expedition, where, by repeated victories, he ſo intimidated their general Caſſibelanus, that he no longer attemp⯑ted to reſiſt him in the plains, but keeping in the foreſts, attempted to protract the war. How⯑ever, Caeſar purſuing him cloſely, and croſſing the Thames with his army, ſo ſtraitened him, that he was obliged to ſubmit to the conque⯑ror's conditions, who impoſed an annual tri⯑bute, and took hoſtages for the payment of it. Thus, in leſs than nine years, he conquered, together with Britain, all that country which extends from the Mediterranean to the German ſea. It is ſaid, that in theſe expeditions, he took eight hundred cities, ſubdued three hun⯑dred different ſtates, overcame three millions of men, one of which fell on the field of battle, and one was made priſoners of war. Theſe conqueſts, and this deſtruction of mankind, may, in the preſent advancement of morals, be regarded with deteſtation, but they were regarded as the heighth of human virtue, at the time they were atchieved. In fact, if we examine Caeſar's great aſſiduity in providing for his army, his great ſkill in diſpoſing them for battle, and his amazing intrepidity during the engagement, we ſhall not find a greater general in all anti⯑quity. [429] But in one thing he excelled all, with inconteſtible ſuperiority, namely, in his huma⯑nity to the vanquiſhed. This ſeemed a virtue but little known to the times he lived in, ſo that mankind were then more obliged to heroes, than they at preſent chuſe to confeſs; almoſt each of whom has introduced and given ſanction to ſome new virtues, which philoſophers▪ might have ſpeculatively applauded before, but could never have influence to make popular, without ſuch an example.

While Caeſar was thus encreaſing his reputa⯑tion and riches abroad, Pompey, who remained all the time in Rome, ſteadily co-operated with his ambition, and advanced his intereſts, while he vainly ſuppoſed he was forwarding his own. Upon the firſt news of his great ex⯑ploits, he procured a decree of the ſenate for a ſolemn feſtival of fifteen days, which was doing Caeſar greater honour, than any ge⯑neral had received before him. When Caeſar, after remaining in Gaul three years, paſſed over into Italy, to refreſh himſelf for a while from his fatigues, in order to renew the next cam⯑paign with greater vigour, Pompey, together with Craſſus, took a journey from Rome to meet him: and there, when Caeſar pleaded the ceſſity of being continued in his command, his aſſociates reſolved to endeavour at the con⯑ſulſhip for the next year, in order to keep him [430] his province for five years longer. This deſign was ſo diſpleaſing to the ſenate, and the diſſen⯑tions ſo violent concerning it, that they went into mourning, as in a caſe of public calamity. Cato did all that lay in his power to oppoſe their aims, declaring upon every occaſion, that the liberty of Rome was in danger: he even procured one Domitius to offer himſelf a can⯑didate, againſt the intereſt of the whole tri⯑umvirate. Pompey however, knew how little the indignation of the ſenate could avail againſt the power he was already poſſeſſed of, where⯑fore he ſent a body of armed men againſt Do⯑mitius, as he was going to offer himſelf at the election. Theſe killed the ſlave that preceded him, and then diſperſed the company; Cato being wounded, and Domitius hardly eſcaping with life. By this violence, Pompey becoming maſter of the ſuffrages, he and Craſſus were declared conſuls, and in conſequence of this promotion, Caeſar was continued five years longer in Gaul; Craſſus was appointed to Sy⯑ria, where, as we have ſaid, he expected to reap an harveſt rather of wealth, than of glory; and Pompey was fixed in his government of Spain, which he governed wholly by his lieutenants, pretending that he could not leave Rome, be⯑cauſe of the general charge of proviſions which was committed to his care; an office procured him by Cicero, who was lately recalled from [431] baniſhment by his influence, the popularity of Clodius having given him ſome umbrage.

In this manner Pompey continued to dictate to the ſenate, and to exerciſe his authority ra⯑ther than encreaſe it. But he began at laſt to be rouzed from his lethargy, by the riſing reputa⯑tion of Caeſar. The fame of that great com⯑mander's valour, riches, and humanity, began ſecretly to give him pain, and to make him ſuppoſe they began to eclipſe his own, for as being more recent, they were more talked of. He feared nothing ſo much as an equal in point of glory, and yet by his own arts, he had raiſed Caeſar's ſo high, that he was threatened with a ſuperior. He now therefore began, by a change of the ſame arts, to do all that was in his power to diminiſh Caeſar's reputation, obliging the magiſtrates not to publiſh any letters they received from him, till he had diminiſhed the credit of them, by ſpreading diſadvanta⯑geous reports. While every thing thus por⯑tended a repture between theſe principal men, accident contributed not a little to widen the ſe⯑paration, by the death of Julia, Pompey's wife, who had not a little contributed to improve the harmony that ſubſiſted between them. From this moment, Pompey reſolved to purſue his own particular advancement, and to depreſs that of one, whom he found, though too late, [432] to ſhare an equal degree of reputation with himſelf.

However, his efforts were now too late, Cae⯑ſar was in poſſeſſion of a great ſhare of popu⯑larity, which it had been the ſtudy of his life to promote: he was loved almoſt to adoration by his army, whoſe attachment he had gained by his humanity and great rewards: he ſeemed to acquire immenſe riches, only to beſtow them upon the braveſt and moſt deſerving of his ſoldiers, particularly thoſe who were worn out in his ſervice: he paid the debts of many of his officers, and gave them every motive to wean their love from the public, and to place it on their commander. Nor were his atten⯑tions fixed upon his ſoldiers alone, but extend⯑ed to his partizans in the city; he aſſiſted theſe, by promoting them to offices, laviſhing large ſums of money to bribe their elections; he pil⯑laged the wealth of his provinces, to ſpread it among the citizens of Rome, and gave even his rapine an air of generoſity.

All this was frequently told Pompey, but he at firſt wiſhed it true, then pretended to diſbe⯑lieve it, and at laſt found, that he had commit⯑ted a fatal overſight, but ſuffered that conſi⯑deration to prevail as late as poſſible. How⯑ever, he at length wiſhed to reſume that power, which he had formerly ſuffered others to ſhare, and an opportunity ſoon offered of obtaining [433] his deſire. As all elections had for many years U. C. 701 been carried on by ſedition and bribery, there ſeemed about that time to be a total ceſſation of authority, no magiſtrates having been elected for the ſpace of eight months. This ſtate of anarchy was heightened ſtill more by the death of Clo⯑dius, who was killed by Milo, in the country, as he was upon his return to town. As Clo⯑dius had been always a favourite of the people, his body was immediately brought to Rome, and expoſed publickly to view. Nothing more was requiſite to kindle a tumult, the multitude ran furiouſly to Milo's houſe, to ſet it on fire, but being defended by his partizans, Milo re⯑pulſed them with great ſlaughter. Upon this, returning to the dead body, they drew it to the ſenate-houſe, and there making a pile of the ſeats of the magiſtrates, conſumed both the body and that ſtately building together. After this, the mutineers diſperſed themſelves all over the city, where, under pretence of ſearching for Milo's friends, they committed the greateſt outrages that unlicenſed fury could ſuggeſt. Thus every ſtreet was filled with murders and quarrels, while none could walk from their own houſes in ſafety. In this univerſal tumult and diſtraction, all eyes were turned upon Pom⯑pey, to reſtore tranquility, and give the ſufferers redreſs. Many were for creating him dictator, but Cato, unwilling to endanger the ſtate by [434] entruſting the greateſt power to the moſt noto⯑rious ambition, prevailed, that inſtead of being created dictator, he ſhould be made Sole conſul, which differed from the former office, but in this, that he was accountable for male-adminiſtration, upon the reſignation of his employment. In conſequence of this acceſſion of power, a body of troops were allotted to him, a thouſand ta⯑lents were granted to ſubſiſt them, the govern⯑ment of Spain was continued to him for four years longer, and Milo was accuſed of having killed Clodius, and condemned to baniſhment, even though Cicero himſelf undertook to defend him. It ſeems, the tribunal from whence he harrangued the populace, was ſurrounded by the conſul's ſoldiers, ſo that he was quite inti⯑midated, and unable to proceed with his uſual impetuoſity. Pompey who had hitherto acted alone, then took in Metellus for his colleague, whoſe daughter Cornelia he had lately married, a woman of great merit and beauty, and by this new alliance, he ſuppoſed he had confirmed his former authority.

Caeſar, who now began to be ſenſible of the jealouſies of Pompey, took occaſion, from the many honours which the latter had juſt receiv⯑ed, to ſollicit for the conſulſhip in his turn, with a prolongation of his government in Gaul, de⯑ſirous of trying whether Pompey would thwart or promote his pretenſions. In this, Pompey [435] ſeemed to be quite inactive, but at the ſame time, privately employed two of his creatures, who alledged in the ſenate, that the laws did not permit a perſon that was abſent, to offer himſelf as a candidate for that high office. Pompey's view in this was, to allure Caeſar from his government, in order to ſtand for the conſulſhip in perſon. Caeſar however, perceiv⯑ing his artifice, choſe to remain in his province, convinced, that while he headed ſuch an army as was now devoted to his intereſts, he could, at any time, give laws as well as magiſtrates to the ſtate.

The ſenate, which were now devoted to Pom⯑pey, becauſe he had for ſome time attempted to defend them from the encroachments of the people, ordered the two legions which were in Caeſar's army, belonging to Pompey, home, as it was pretended, to oppoſe the Parthians, but in reality, to diminiſh Caeſar's power. Caeſar eaſily ſaw their motive, but as his plans were not yet ready for execution, he ſent them home, in purſuance of the orders of the ſenate, having previouſly attached the officers to him with be⯑nefits, and the ſoldiers with a bounty. The next ſtep the ſenate took, was to recall Caeſar from his government, as his time was now very near expiring. Every perſon perceived the dan⯑ger the ſtate was in, from the continuance of his command over an army entirely devoted to [436] his intereſts, and become almoſt invincible by long experience. It was the general ſenſe therefore of the houſe, that Caeſar ſhould re⯑turn, and ſome went ſo far, as to talk of bring⯑ing him to an account for the large ſums of money he had extorted from the provinces of Gaul. But Caeſar was not without his friends in the ſenate: among the reſt, Curio, who had lately been elected a tribune of the people, and had been bribed to his intereſts, ſecretly favoured his cauſe. Curio was a man of ſtrong elo⯑quence, great reſolution, loaded with debts, and deeply engaged to Caeſar, for extricating him from a part of them: he therefore pretended highly to approve the reſolutions of the houſe, and aſſerted, that he could never think liberty ſe⯑cure, while ſuch armies were in readineſs to deſtroy it, whenever their leaders ſhould give the word of command: but then, he thought the chief ſecurity of the ſtate depended upon the fear which theſe armies, whether in Spain, Gaul, or Italy, ſtood in of each other. It was therefore his opinion, that Caeſar ſhould not leave his army, till Pompey had ſet him the example. This was a propoſal, which Pompey had by no means been prepared for; his friends alledged, that his time was not yet expired, but this not ſatisfying the tribune, Pompey himſelf obſerved, that he had taken up his offices at the command of the ſenate, and that he was [437] ready to reſign them, whenever his employers thought fit: that he knew Caeſar, with whoſe friendſhip and alliance he had been made happy, would not heſitate to do the ſame, when he knew the ſenate had appointed him a ſucceſſor. Curio, who ſaw the art of Pompey, whoſe only aim was to have a ſucceſſor actually nominated, replied, that in order to ſhew the ſincerity of his profeſſions, it was not enough to promiſe to give up his government, but at that very inſtant, to perform a thing he had it ſo eaſily in his power to do: he added, that both were too powerful, and that it was for the intereſt of the commonwealth, that they ſhould return to their former privacy: he concluded with ſaying, that there was no other method left for public ſecurity, but to order both to lay down their commands, and to declare him an enemy to his country, who ſhould diſobey. Curio had made this propoſal, with a certainty of its be⯑ing rejected by Pompey, whom he knew to be too well acquainted with the advantages of command, and too confident of his own ſupe⯑riority over Caeſar, to begin the ſubmiſſion: in fact, he judged very juſtly. Pompey was ren⯑dered arrogant, not only by his long good for⯑tune, and his preſent honour, but alſo by accounts brought him continually from Caeſar's army, importing, that his ſoldiers had no eſteem for him, and that they would certainly forſake [438] him as ſoon as they had croft the Alps, all which falſehoods, though merely invented to gain Pompey's favour by ſuiting the account to his inclinations, he readily gave credit to. Nay, to ſuch a pitch of ſelf ſecurity did he at laſt make pretenſions, that when Cicero aſked him what forces he had to repell Caeſar, Pompey re⯑plied, that if he only ſtamped with his foot, an army would ſtart up from the ground to oppoſe him. Thus confidence at firſt, and ſhame ſoon after to have been in the wrong, operated ſo powerfully upon him, that he did not prepare for his defence, leſt he ſhould be obliged to ac⯑knowledge himſelf in danger.

Curio having attained his aims in this parti⯑cular, diſmiſt the ſenate, as he was impowered to do by his office, but Marcellus, who was conſul, and a creature of Pompey, convoked it immediately after, and then put it to the vote whether Caeſar ſhould be continued in his go⯑vernment. The whole aſſembly were immediately of opinion that he ſhould be diſcontinued. He then demanded their pleaſure as to Pompey's continuance in the government he enjoyed. The majority declared that it was proper to continue him. Curio then put a third queſtion, whether it would not be moſt expedient to diſcontinue them both, to which three hundred and ſixty of the ſenate aſſented, and twenty two only declared againſt it. Marcellus being thus fruſtated in [439] his views of obtaining the ſanction of the ſenate to continue Pompey in his government, could not contain his reſentment, but riſing in a rage, cried out, If you will have Caeſar for your maſ⯑ter, why have him. Upon which one of his own party aſſerting, in order to intimidate the ſenate ſtill more, that Caeſar was paſt the Alps, and marching with his whole army directly to⯑wards Rome, the conſul immediately quitting the ſenate, went with his colleague forth from the city to an houſe where Pompey at that time re⯑ſided. He there preſented him with a ſword, commanding him to march againſt Caeſar, and fight in defence of the commonwealth. Pompey declared he was ready to obey, but with an air of pretended moderation added, that it was only in caſe more gentle expedients could not be employed.

Caeſar, who was inſtructed in all that paſt by his partizans at Rome, though he was ſtill in Gaul, was willing to give his aims all the ap⯑pearance of juſtice. He therefore wrote to the ſenate ſeveral times, deſiring to be continued in his government of Gaul, as Pompey had been in that of Spain, or elſe that he ſhould be per⯑mitted to ſtand for the conſulſhip and his ab⯑ſence diſpenſed with. He agreed to lay down his employment when Pompey ſhould do the ſame. But the ſenate, who were devoted to his rival, rejected all his propoſitions, blindly confident [440] of their own power, and relying on the aſſurances of Pompey. Caeſar ſtill unwilling to come to an open rupture with the ſtate, at laſt was content to aſk the government of Illyria, with two le⯑gions; but this alſo was refuſed him; a fatal obſtinacy had ſeized the ſenate, who were will⯑ing to ſacrifice all his power to encreaſe that of their preſent favourite, ſo that they attempted to repreſs his injuſtice by ſtill greater of their own. Wherefore Caeſar now finding all hopes of an accommodation fruitleſs, and conſcious, if not of the goodneſs of his cauſe, at leaſt of the goodneſs of his troops, began to draw them down towards the confines of Italy, and paſſing the Alps with his third legion, ſtopt at Raven⯑ra, a city of Ciſalpine Gaul, from whence he once more wrote a letter to the conſuls, declaring that he was ready to reſign all command in caſe Pompey did ſo too. But he added, that if all power was to be given to one only, he would endeavour to prevent ſo unjuſt a diſtribution, and declared that if they perſiſted he would ſhortly arrive in Rome to puniſh their injuſtice, and the wrongs of his country. The menaces contained in the laſt part of his letter, exaſperated the whole body of the ſenate againſt him. Marcellus the conſul, who as we have ſaid, was the creature of Pompey, gave way to his rage, while Lentu⯑lus his colleague, who being of wrecked for⯑tune, could expect to loſe nothing by a civil war, [441] openly declared, that after ſuch an inſult further deliberation was needleſs, and that there was now more occaſion for arms than for ſuffrages. It was then after ſome oppoſition, decreed that Caeſar ſhould lay down his government and diſ⯑band his forces within a limited time, and if he refuſed obedience, that he ſhould be declared an enemy to the commonwealth. They next gave orders to the conſuls, that the common⯑wealth would receive no damage, which was the form of inveſting them with abſolute authority in caſes of immediate danger. After this they appointed Domitius, a man of great courage and abilities, as Caeſar's ſucceſſor in the govern⯑ment of Gaul. Pompey was ordered to put himſelf at the head of what troops were in rea⯑dineſs, and all thoſe who were under the influ⯑ence either of him or the ſenate, prepared to take up arms at Rome.

In the mean time, they who had declared themſelves moſt ſtrongly in Caeſar's intereſt, began to fear for themſelves, from the abſolute power granted the conſuls of diſpoſing all things at their pleaſure, and of treating whom they would as enemies to the ſtate. But parti⯑cularly Curio, with the two tribunes Marcus Antonius and Longinus, ſuppoſed they had reaſon to be apprehenſive. They accordingly fled disguiſed as ſlaves to Caeſar's camp, de⯑ploring the injuſtice and tyranny of the ſenate, [442] and making a merit of their ſufferings in his cauſe. Caeſar ſhewed them in the habits which they had thus aſſumed to his army, and ſeem⯑ing touched with the ſtrongeſt compaſſion at their treatment, burſt out into ſevere invectives againſt the ſenate, alledging their tyranny over the ſtate, their cruelty to his friends, and their flagrant ingratitude to himſelf for all his paſt ſervices. Theſe cried he, pointing to the tri⯑bunes, who were in ſlaves habits, theſe are the rewards obtained by the faithful ſervants of their country, men whoſe perſons are ſacred by their office, and whoſe characters have been eſteemed for their virtues, are driven from their country, obliged for ſafety to appear as the meaneſt of mankind, to find protection only in a diſtant province of the empire, and all for maintaining the rights of freedom, thoſe rights which even Sylla in all the rage of ſlaughter durſt not violate. All this he enforced with the moſt paſſionate geſtures, and accompanied his words with his tears. The ſoldiers, as if in⯑ſpired with one mind, cried out that they were prepared to follow him wherever he ſhould lead, and were ready to die or revenge his in⯑juries. An univerſal acclamation rung through the whole camp, every man prepared for a new ſervice of danger, and forgetting the toils of ten former campaigns, went to his tent to meditate on future victory.

[443] When the army was thus fit for his purpoſe, Caeſar, at night-fall, ſat down to table chearfully converſing with his friends on ſubjects of litera⯑ture and philoſophy, and apparently diſengaged from every ambitious concern: however, after ſome time, riſing up, he deſired the company to make themſelves chearful in his abſence, and that he would be with them in a moment: in the mean time having ordered his chariot to be prepared he immediately ſet out, attended by a few friends, for Arminium, a city upon the confines of Italy, whither he had diſpatched a part of his army the morning before. This journey by night, which was very fatiguing▪ he performed with great diligence, ſometimes walking and ſometimes on horſeback, 'till at the break of day he came up with his army, which conſiſted of about five thouſand men, near the Rubicon, a little river which ſeparates Italy from Gaul, and which terminated the li⯑mits of his command. The Romans had ever been taught to conſider this river as the ſacred boundary of their domeſtic empire; the ſenate had long before made an edict, which is ſtill to be ſeen engraven in the road near Rimini, by which they ſolemnly devoted to the infernal gods and branded with ſacrilege and parricide any perſon who ſhould preſume to paſs the Ru⯑bicon with an army, a legion, or even a ſingle cohort: Caeſar therefore when he advanced at [444] the head of his army to the ſide of the river ſtopt ſhort upon the bank, as if impreſt with terror at the greatneſs of his enterprize. The dangers he was to encounter, the ſlaughters that were to enſue, the calamities of his native city, all pre⯑ſented themſelves to his imagination in gloomy perſpective, and ſtruck him with remorſe. He pondered for ſome time in fixt melancholy, looking upon the river and debating with him⯑ſelf whether he ſhould venture in: ‘"If I paſs this river, ſays he to one of his generals who ſtood by him, what miſeries ſhall I bring upon my country! and if I now ſtop ſhort I am undone."’ Thus ſaying, and reſuming all his former alacrity, he plunged in, crying out that the die was caſt and all was now over: his ſoldiers followed him with equal prompti⯑tude, and quickly arriving at Arminium made themſelves maſters of the place without any re⯑ſiſtance.

This unexpected enterprize excited the ut⯑moſt terrors in Rome, every one imagining that Caeſar was leading his army to lay the city in ruins. At one time were to be ſeen the citi⯑zens flying into the country for ſafety, and the inhabitants of the country coming up to ſeek for ſhelter in Rome. In this univerſal confuſion Pompey felt all that repentance and ſelf-con⯑demnation which muſt neceſſarily ariſe from the remembrance of having advanced his rival to [445] his preſent pitch of power: wherever he ap⯑peared many of his former friends were ready to tax him with his ſupineneſs, and ſarcaſti⯑cally to reproach his ill-grounded preſumption. ‘"Where is now, cried Favonius, a ridiculous ſenator of his party, the army that is to riſe at your command? let us ſee if it will appear by ſtamping."’ Cato reminded him of the many warnings he had given him; which however, as he was continually boding nothing but calamities, Pompey might very juſtly be excuſed from attending to. But being at length wearied with theſe reproaches which were offer⯑ed under colour of advice, he did all that lay in his power to encourage and confirm his fol⯑lowers: he told them that they ſhould not want an army, for that he would be their leader; he confeſt indeed that he had all along miſtaken Caeſar's aims, judging of them only from what they ought to be; however, if his friends were ſtill inſpired with the love of freedom, they might yet enjoy it in whatever place their neceſſities ſhould happen to conduct them. He let them know that their affairs were in a very promiſing ſituation; that his two lieutenants were at the head of a conſiderable army in Spain, compoſed of veteran troops that had made the conqueſt of the Eaſt; be⯑ſides theſe, there were infinite reſources both in Aſia and Africa, together with the ſuccours [446] they were ſure to expect from all the kingdoms that were in alliance with Rome. This ſpeech ſerved, in ſome meaſure, to revive the hopes of the confederacy. The greateſt part of the ſenate, his own private friends and dependants, toge⯑ther with all thoſe who expected to make their fortunes in his cauſe, agreed to follow him. Thus being in no capacity of reſiſting Caeſar at Rome, he reſolved to lead his forces to Capua, where he had the two legions that com⯑manded under Caeſar in Gaul. His parting from Rome was not a little diſtreſsful to the ſpectators. Antient ſenators, reſpectable magi⯑ſtrates, and many of the flower of the young no⯑bility, obliged thus to leave their native city de⯑fenceleſs to the invader, raiſed an univerſal con⯑cern in all ranks of people, who followed them ſome way with outcries, tears and wiſhes for their ſucceſs.

Caeſar, in the mean time, after having vain⯑ly attempted to bring Pompey to an accommo⯑dation, was reſolved to purſue him into Capua before he could have time to collect his forces. However, at the very out-ſet, he was in ſome meaſure diſcouraged by the defection of Labi⯑enus, aſſociate of all his former victories: this general, either diſguſted at his command or unwilling to deſolate his native country, went over to the other ſide; but Caeſar, who was not to be intimidated by the loſs of one [447] man, whoſe abilities he himſelf was able to re⯑place, did not ſeem much to regard it; wherefore ſending all his money after him, he marched on to take poſſeſſion of the cities that lay between him and his rival, not regarding Rome, which he knew would fall of courſe to the conqueror. Corfinium was the firſt city that attempted to ſtop the rapidity of his march. It was defend⯑ed by Domitius, who had been appointed by the ſenate to ſucceed him in Gaul, and was garri⯑ſoned by twenty cohorts which were levied in the countries adjacent: Caeſar, however, quick⯑ly inveſted it, and though Domitius ſent frequently to Pompey, exhorting him to come and raiſe the ſiege, be was at laſt obliged to endeavour to eſcape privately. His inten⯑tions happening to be divulged, the garri⯑ſon were reſolved to conſult their own ſafety by delivering him up to the beſiegers. Cae⯑ſar readily accepted their offers, but kept his men from immediately entering into the town. After ſome time Lentulus the conſul, who was one of the beſieged, came out to implore forgiveneſs for himſelf and the reſt of his confederates, putting Caeſar in mind of their ancient friendſhip and acknowledging the many favours he had received at his hands: to this Caeſar, who would not wait the conclu⯑ſion of his ſpeech, generouſly replied, that he came into Italy not to injure the liberties of [448] Rome and it's citizens, but to reſtore them. This humane reply being quickly carried into the city, the ſenators, and the knights, with their children and ſome officers of the garriſon, came out to claim the conqueror's protection, who juſt glancing at their ingratitude gave them their liberty with permiſſion to go whereſoever they ſhould think proper. But while he diſ⯑miſt the leaders, he, upon this, as upon all other occaſions, took care to attach the common ſol⯑diers to his own intereſt, ſenſible that he might ſtand in need of an army, but that while he lived his army could never ſtand in need of a commander.

Pompey having intelligence of what paſt upon this occaſion immediately retreated to Brunduſi⯑um, where he reſolved to ſtand a ſiege to delay the enemy until the forces of the empire ſhould be united to oppoſe him. Caeſar, as he expected, ſoon arrived before the place, and having acci⯑dentally taken one of Pompey's engineers a pri⯑ſoner he gave him liberty, with orders to per⯑ſuade his general that it might be for the inte⯑reſts of both, as well as to the advantage of the empire to have an interview; but to this overture he received no return. He next attempted to block up the harbour, but in this being fruſ⯑trated by the diligence of Pompey, he ſent ano⯑ther propoſal for having an interview, to which it was anſwered, that no propoſitions of that [449] kind could be received in the abſence of the conſuls. Thus ſeeing no hopes of concluding their diſagreements by treaty, he turned all his thoughts towards carrying on the war, which Pompey on his ſide reſolved to proſecute with all imaginable vigour.

His firſt aim in keeping Caeſar ſome time employed before Brunduſium ſucceeded to his wiſh; he at length therefore prepared, with all imaginable caution, to abandon the town, and tranſport his garriſon over to Dyrac⯑chium, where the conſuls, who had been ſent with a part of the troops before him, were le⯑vying men for the ſervice of the empire. For this purpoſe, having fortified the harbour in ſuch a manner that the enemy could not eaſily purſue him, he embarked his troops with the utmoſt ſilence and diſpatch, leaving only a few archers and ſlingers on the walls, who were ordered to retreat in ſmall boats provided for that purpoſe, as ſoon as all the heavy infantry were got on board. Caeſar being apprized of their retreat by the inhabitants of the town, who were provoked at the ruin of their houſes, immediately attempted to prevent the embar⯑kation, and was actually going to lead his men over a pitfall, which Pompey had ſecretly placed in his way, had he not been interrupted by the townſmen, who apprized him of his danger. Thus did Pompey, with great ſkill and dili⯑gence, [450] make his eſcape, leaving the whole kingdom of Italy at the mercy of his rival, without either a town or an army that had ſtrength to oppoſe his progreſs.

Caeſar finding he could not follow Pompey for want of ſhipping, reſolved to go back to Rome, and take poſſeſſion of the public trea⯑ſures, which his opponent, by a moſt unaccoun⯑table over ſight, had neglected taking with him. It might have been alledged, indeed, that as theſe treaſures were conſidered as a ſacred depoſit, and only to be uſed in the laſt extremity, or in caſe of a Gallic invaſion, it would have been wrong in Pompey to begin his operations with an act of impiety. Thus it often happens that the weaker ſide, through a fear of diſcrediting their cauſe by any thing irregular, ruin it by unſeaſo⯑nable moderation. Caeſar was received at Rome with the repeated acclamations of the lower part of the citizens and by all his own party; thoſe of the ſenate alſo who were attached to his intereſts aſſembled to congratulate his arrival, to whom he made a plauſible ſpeech, juſtifying his conduct and profeſſing his averſion to the violent mea⯑ſures to which he had been compelled. Then, under a pretence that his cauſe was that of juſtice and of the commonwealth, he prepared to poſſeſs himſelf of thoſe treaſures which had been laid up for the uſes of the public: but upon his coming up to the door of the treaſury, Me⯑tellus, [451] the tribune, who guarded it, refuſed to let him paſs, alledging that the money was ſa⯑cred, and that horrible imprecations had been denounced againſt ſuch as touched it upon any occaſion but that of a Gallic war. Caeſar, howe⯑ver, was not to be intimidated by his ſuperſtitious remonſtrances, obſerving that there was no oc⯑caſion for money to carry on a Gallic war, as he had entirely ſubdued all Gaul already: the tribune then pretending that the keys were miſſing, Caeſar ordered his attendants to break open the doors, but Metellus had ſtill the bold⯑neſs to diſpute even this command, whereupon Caeſar, with more than uſual emotion, laying his hand upon his ſword, threatened to ſtrike him dead; ‘"And know, young man, cried he, that it is eaſier to do this than to ſay it."’ This menace had it's effect; Metellus retired, and Caeſar took out to the amount of three thouſand pound weight of gold, beſides an im⯑menſe quantity of ſilver; which money was a principal means of promoting his ſucceeding conqueſts. Having thus provided for continu⯑ing the war, he departed from Rome, reſolved to ſubdue Pompey's lieutenants, Afranius and Petreius, who had been long in Spain at the head of a veteran army.

Much had been expected by the oppoſite party from the army in Spain; it was compoſed of the choiceſt legions of the empire, and had [452] been ever victorious under all its commanders▪ Caeſar however, who knew the abilities of its two preſent generals, jocoſely ſaid as he was pre⯑paring to go thither, that he went to fight an army without a general, and upon conquering it would return to fight a general without an army. However it may be enquired why Caeſar did not rather purſue Pompey directly, than thus ſtep out of the way, as it were, into Spain, to engage his generals. He had good rea⯑ſons; he was ſenſible that if he had overcome Pompey and driven him out of Greece, where he was then making preparations, he muſt pro⯑bably have forced him into Spain, where of all places he dreaded moſt to meet him; it was there⯑fore prudent firſt to deſtroy the army there, and then there was little to be dreaded from the pro⯑tection it might afterwards afford. Accordingly having refreſhed his men, previous to their ſetting out, he led them once more a long and fatiguing march acroſs the Alps, through the extenſive provinces of Gaul, to meet the enemy in Spain. Indeed, when I conſider the amazing length of the way, and the various countries his ſoldiers were to paſs, the mountains they had to aſcend, and the foreſts to cut through, the various cli⯑mates they were to endure, and the military duties they were to undergo, while every centi⯑nel wore ſeventy pounds weight of armour, that would be conſidered as a modern man's load, [453] while beſides this each man was obliged to carry with him ten days proviſion upon the point of his ſpear, and was allowed nothing to drink but vinegar and water on the way, when I con⯑ſider, I ſay, the fatigues theſe muſt have under⯑gone, and the length of their continuance, I am ſtruck with aſtoniſhment at their invincible patience and reſolution! Caeſar having left one of his generals, with a part of the army, to be⯑ſiege Marſeilles, which refuſed to admit him, he proceeded with extreme diligence on his march to Spain, and to attach his men more firmly to his intereſts, borrowed money from all his officers, which he diſtributed among the ſoldiers. Thus engaging the one to him by his liberality, and the other by the expectation of being repaid.

The firſt conflict which he had with Afranius and Petreius, was rather unfavourable. It was fought near the city of Herda, and both ſides claimed the honour of the victory. Neverthe⯑leſs, it appeared ſoon after that Caeſar was re⯑duced to great ſtreights for want of proviſions, which the overflowing of the river and the po⯑ſition of the enemy entirely cut off. However, nothing was able to ſubdue his dilligence and activity, for cauſing ſlight boats covered with leather to be made, and cauſing a diviſion of the enemy to another part, he carried his boats in waggons twenty miles diſtant from the camp, [454] launched them upon the broadeſt part of the river, and with great dexterity cauſed his legions to paſs over. Having thus gained new ſupplies of proviſions and men, he made a feint as if he intended to diſtreſs the enemy in turn, by cutting off their ſupplies, and for this purpoſe be began to throw up entrenchments and cut ditches, as if to turn the courſe of the river into a different channel. Theſe preparations ſo intimidated the enemy, that they reſolved to decamp by night: but Caeſar, who had intimation of their deſign by his ſpies, purſued them with a ſmall part of his army, and forcing them to ford the river, before they had time to rally on the other ſide, ap⯑peared with the main body of his forces to receive them. Thus hemmed in on both ſides, they could neither get forward nor return to their former camp. By theſe means he reduced them to ſuch extremity of hunger and drought, that they were obliged to yield at diſcretion. But cle⯑mency was his favourite virtue, he diſmiſſed them all with the kindeſt profeſſions, and ſent them home to Rome loaden with ſhame and ob⯑ligations to publiſh his virtues, and confirm the affections of his adherents. Thus, in the ſpace of about forty days, he became maſter of all Spain; and then departing to his army at Mar⯑ſeilles, obliged that city to ſurrender at diſcre⯑tion. He pardoned the inhabitants, as he ſaid, chiefly upon account of their name and anti⯑quity; [455] and leaving two legions in that garriſon, returned again victorious to Rome. The citi⯑zens upon this occaſion received him with freſh demonſtrations of joy, they created him dictator and conſul; but the firſt of theſe offices he laid down after he had held it but eleven days. His deſign in accepting it was probably to ſhew the people with what readineſs he could reſign it.

While Caeſar was thus employed, Pompey was equally active in making preparations in Epirus and Greece to oppoſe him. All the mo⯑narchs of the Eaſt had declared in his favour, and ſent very large ſupplies. He was maſter of nine effective Italian legions, and had a fleet of five hundred large ſhips under the conduct of Bibulus, an active and experienced commander. Added to theſe, he was ſupplied with large ſums of money and all the neceſſaries for an army, from the tributary provinces round him. He had attacked Dolabella and Anthony, who commanded for Caeſar in that part of the empire, with ſuch ſucceſs, that the former was obliged to fly and the latter was taken priſoner. Crowds of the moſt diſtinguiſhed citizens and nobles from Rome came every day to join him. He had at one time above two hundred ſena⯑tors in his camp▪ among whom were Cicero and Cato, whoſe approbation of his cauſe was equivalent to an army. Theſe aſſiſted him with their countenance and advice, and by their in⯑fluence [] it was determined that no Roman citi⯑zen ſhould be put to death out of battle, and that no town ſubject to the Roman empire ſhould be plundered by the conquerors. All theſe advantages both of ſtrength and council drew the wiſhes of mankind to his cauſe, and raiſed an oppoſition that threatened Caeſar with ſpeedy deſtruction.

Notwithſtanding ſuch preparations againſt him, Caeſar proceeded with his uſual vigour, and with a courage that to ordinary capacities might ſeem to be raſhneſs. He now reſolved to face his rival in the Eaſt, and led his forces to Brundu⯑ſium, a ſea port town of Italy, in order to tranſ⯑port them into Greece: but he wanted a fleet numerous enough to carry the whole at once, and it appeared dangerous to weaken his army by dividing it: beſides, it was now in the midſt of winter, and very difficult for any veſſels, much more for ſo ſlight a fleet as his was, to keep the ſea; added to this, all the ports and the ſhores were filled with the numerous navy of his rival, conducted by a very vigilant com⯑mander. However, theſe conſiderations could not over-rule his deſire to purſue the war with his uſual unremitting aſſiduity; wherefore he ſhipped off five of his twelve legions, which amounted to no more than twenty thouſand foot and ſix thouſand horſe, and weighing anchor fortunately ſteered through the midſt of his ene⯑mies, [457] timing it ſo well that he made his paſſage in one day. He landed at a place called Phar⯑ſalus, not daring to venture into any known port, which he was apprehenſive might be poſ⯑ſeſſed by the enemy. When he ſaw his troops ſafely debarked, he ſent back the fleet to bring over the reſt of his forces; but thirty of his ſhips, in their return, fell into the hands of Pompey's admiral, who ſet them all on fire, deſtroying mariners and all, in order to intimi⯑date the reſt by this cruel example. In the mean time he was employed in taking poſſeſſion of ſuch towns as had declared for his enemy, and in cutting off proviſions from the fleet, which coaſted along that part of the country. But ſtill convinced that the proper time for mak⯑ing propoſals for a peace was after gaining an advantage, he ſent one Rufus, whom he had taken priſoner, to effect an accommodation with Pompey, offering to refer all to the ſenate and people of Rome; but Pompey once more re⯑jected the overture, holding the people of Rome too much in Caeſar's intereſts to be relied on.

He was raiſing ſupplies in Macedonia when firſt informed of Caeſar's landing upon the coaſts of Epirus: he now, therefore, reſolved imme⯑diately to march to Dyracchium, in order to cover that place from Caeſar's attempts, as all his ammunition and proviſions were depoſited there. Upon his arrival at that city he began [458] to perceive that many of his new-raiſed troops were very little to be depended upon; their ſlowneſs in obeying command, and their nume⯑rous deſertions giving him very diſagreeable ap⯑prehenſions. In conſequence of this, he obliged them to take an oath, that they would never abandon their general, but follow him through all his fortunes, and being thus ſecure of their attachment, he reſolved to harraſs out his rival by protracting the war, as his reſources were more numerous than thoſe of Caeſar. The firſt place that both armies came in ſight of each other, was on the oppoſite banks of the river Apſus, and as both were commanded by the two greateſt generals then in the world, the one renowned for his conqueſt of the Eaſt, the other celebrated for his victories over the Weſt⯑ern parts of the empire, a battle was eagerly deſired by the ſoldiers on either ſide. But neither general was willing to hazard it upon this oc⯑caſion; Pompey could not rely upon his new levies, and Caeſar would not venture an engage⯑ment, till he was joined by the the reſt of his forces. Accordingly both armies remained in this diſpoſition for ſome days, looking upon each other with all the anxiety of ſuſpenſe, yet each with equal confidence of ſucceſs and mu⯑tual reſolution.

Caeſar had now waited ſome time with ex⯑treme impatience for the coming up of the re⯑mainder [459] of his army, the whole of his hopes depended upon that reinforcement, and he had written and ſent ſeveral times to his generals to uſe diſpatch. At laſt, deſpairing of their punc⯑tuality, and deſirous of being freed from the anxiety of expectation, he reſolved upon an at⯑tempt, that nothing but the extraordinary con⯑fidence he had in his good fortune could excuſe. He diſguiſed himſelf in the habit of a ſlave, and with all imaginable ſecrecy, went on board a fiſherman's bark at the mouth of the river Apſus, with a deſign to paſs over to Brundu⯑ſium, where the reſt of his forces lay, and to conduct them over in perſon. He accordingly rowed off in the beginning of the night, and was got a conſiderable way to ſea, when the wind all of a ſudden changed againſt him: the ſea now roſe in billows of formidable height, and the ſtorm began to encreaſe with much violence. The fiſherman, who had rowed all night with great labour, was often for returning, but was diſſuaded by his paſſenger; but at length, when far advanced on the intended voyage, he found himſelf unable to proceed, and yet too diſtant from land to hope for making good his return: in this interval of deſpondence he was going to give up the oar, and commit himſelf to the mercy of the waves, when Caeſar at laſt diſcovering himſelf, commanded him to row boldly; Fear nothing, cried he, you carry Caeſar [460] and his fortune. Encouraged by the preſence of ſo great a man, the fiſherman made freſh en⯑deavours, and got out to ſea, but the ſtorm encreaſing ſtill againſt them, he was obliged to make for land, which was effected not without great difficulty. As ſoon as he was on ſhore, Caeſar's ſoldiers, who had for ſome time miſſed their general, and knew not what was become of him, came joyfully round him, congratulat⯑ing his eſcape, and kindly upbraiding his at⯑tempt, in ſo far diſtruſting their courage and affection, as to ſeek out new forces, when they were ſure without any aid to conquer. His ex⯑cuſes were not leſs tender than their remon⯑ſtrances, but the joy of both was ſoon after ſtill heightened, by an information of the landing of the troops he had long expected at Appol⯑lonia, from whence they were approaching un⯑der the conduct of Anthony and Calenus, to join him; he therefore decamped in order to meet them, and prevent, if poſſible, Pompey with his army from engaging them on their march, as he lay on that ſide of the river, where the ſuccours had been obliged to come on ſhore. This diligence was not leſs ſucceſsful than ne⯑ceſſary, for Pompey had actually made ſome motions to anticipate their junction, and had laid an ambuſcade for Anthony, which failing, [...]e was obliged to retreat, under an apprehen⯑ſion of being hemmed in between the two ar⯑mies, [461] ſo that the junction was effected the ſame day.

Pompey being compelled to retreat, led his forces to Aſparagus nigh Dyracchium, where he was ſure of being ſupplied with every thing ne⯑ceſſary for his army, by the numerous fleets which he employed along the coaſts of Epirus; there he pitched his camp upon a tongue of land (as mariners expreſs it) that jutted into the ſea, where alſo was a ſmall ſhelter for ſhips, where few winds could annoy them: in this place be⯑ing moſt advantageouſly ſituated, he immedi⯑ately began to entrench his camp, which Caeſar perceiving, and finding that he was not likely ſoon to quit ſo advantageous a poſt, began to entrench alſo behind him, cauſing magazines of corn to be made in all parts not already waſted by the enemy's forces. Yet, notwith⯑ſtanding all his care, proviſions began to be very ſcarce in Caeſar's army: his men were obliged to make uſe of beans and barley, and a root called Chara, which they mingled with milk; but they had been long uſed to greater hardſhips than theſe, ſo that they bore all with their accuſtomed patience, remembering what great honours they had often gained, after a courſe of ſuch miſeries as theſe. The inconve⯑niencies that were like to follow, however, put Caeſar upon a new deſign. All beyond Pom⯑pey's camp, towards the land ſide, was hilly and [462] ſteep, wherefore Caeſar built redoubts upon the hills, ſtretching round from ſhore to ſhore, and then cauſed lines of communication to be drawn from hill to hill, by which he blocked up the camp of the enemy. He hoped by this block⯑ade, to force the enemy to a battle, which he ar⯑dently deſired, and which the other declined with equal induſtry. Not indeed, but Pompey was continually and earneſtly ſollicited by his officers and the ſenators attending his camp, to hazard a battle; but he knew too well the danger of ſuch an attempt, and accordingly thought only of harraſſing out the enemy by perſeverance. Thus both ſides continued for ſome time em⯑ployed in deſigns and ſtratagems, the one to annoy and the other to defend. Caeſar's men daily carried on their works to ſtraiten the ene⯑my: thoſe of Pompey did the ſame to enlarge themſelves, having the advantage of numbers, and though they declined coming to a battle, yet they ſeverely galled the enemy by their ſlingers and archers. Caeſar, however, was inde⯑fatigable, he cauſed blinds or mantelets to be made of ſkins of beaſts to cover his men while at work, he cut off all the water that ſupplied the enemy's camp, and forage from the horſes, ſo that there remained no more ſubſiſtance for them. In this ſituation, Pompey at laſt reſolved to break through his lines, and gain ſome other [463] part of the country more convenient for en⯑campment. Accordingly, having informed himſelf of the condition of Caeſar's fortifications from ſome deſerters who came over to him, he ordered his light infantry and archers on board his ſhips, with directions to attack Caeſar's en⯑trenchments by ſea, where they were leaſt de⯑fended. This was done with ſuch effect, that all the centurions of Caeſar's firſt cohort were cut off except one, and though Caeſar and his officers uſed their utmoſt endeavours to hin⯑der Pompey's deſigns, yet by means of reitera⯑ted attempts, he at laſt effected his purpoſe of extricating his army from his former camp, and of encamping in another place by the ſea, where he had the conveniency of forage and ſhipping alſo. Caeſar being thus fruſtrated in his views of blocking up the enemy, and per⯑ceiving the loſs he had ſuſtained, reſolved at laſt to force Pompey to a battle, though upon diſadvantageous terms. The engagement began by attempting to cut off a legion of the enemy which was poſted in a wood, and this brought on a general battle. The conflict was for ſome time carried on with great ardour, and with equal fortune, but Caeſar's army being intan⯑gled in the entrenchments of the old camps lately abandoned, began to fall into diſorder, upon which, Pompey preſſing his advantage, they at laſt fled with great precipitation. Great [464] numbers periſhed in the trenches and on the banks of the river, preſſed to death by their fellows. Pompey purſued his ſucceſſes to the very camp of Caeſar, and now was the criſis of Caeſar's fate, it only depended upon the re⯑ſolution and perſeverance of Pompey's men to attack his entrenchments, and utterly deſtroy his whole army; but his uſual good fortune prevailed; Pompey, either ſurprized with the ſuddenneſs of his victory, or fearful of an am⯑buſcade, withdrew his troops into his own camp, and thus loſt the empire of the world. However, his generals and attendants looked upon his preſent ſucceſs as a deciſive determi⯑nation of the war. Not thinking of future en⯑gagements and dangers, they carried themſelves as undoubted conquerors, and adding cruelty to their confidence, put all their priſoners to the ſword. Caeſar, however, was not to be in⯑timidated by a ſingle blow, he found that hi⯑therto his attempts to force Pompey to engage him upon equal terms, were ineffectual, he therefore reſolved to appear as if willing to change the whole courſe of the war, and to pro⯑tract it in his turn: wherefore, calling the army together, he addreſſed them with his uſual calmneſs and intrepidity, in the following man⯑ner, ‘"We have no reaſon, my fellow ſoldiers, to be dejected at our late miſcarriage; the loſs of one battle, after ſuch numbers that [465] have been gained, ſhould rather awaken out caution than depreſs our reſolution: let us remember the long courſe of victories which have been gained by us in Gaul, Britain, Italy and Spain, and then let us conſider how many greater dangers we have eſcaped, which have only ſerved to encreaſe the pleaſure of ſucceeding victory. If after all theſe renown⯑ed exploits and glorious ſucceſſes, one little diſorder, one error of inadvertancy, or indeed of deſtiny itſelf, has deprived us of our juſt reward, yet we have ſtill ſufficient force to enſure it for the future; and though we ſhould be deprived of every reſource, yet the brave have one ſtill left to overcome every danger, namely, to deſpiſe it."’ After thus encouraging his men, and degrading ſome of his ſubaltern officers who were remiſs in their duty, he prepared to lead his forces from their camp, and to make his retreat to Appollonia, where he intended to refreſh and recruit his army. Having therefore cauſed his baggage to go on before, he marched after at the head of his ſoldiers, and though purſued by Pompey, yet having the advantage of ſetting off eight hours before him, he effected his intent.

In the mean time, Domitius, one of his lieu⯑tenants, was in Macedonia with three legions, and in danger of being ſurprized by the ſuperior forces of the enemy; he reſolved therefore to [466] join him with all expedition, and after having refreſhed his army, ſet forward with the utmoſt diſpatch. Pompey was in pretty much the ſame circumſtances of apprehenſion, for Scipio, one of his lieutenants, who was in Theſſaly, at the head of the Syrian legion; and he was fearful, leſt Caeſar's march was intended to cut off this body of troops before their junction. Thus each ge⯑neral marched with all the diligence poſſible, both to ſecure their friends, and ſurprize their enemies. Caeſar's diſpatch was moſt ſucceſsful; he was joined by Domitius upon the frontiers of Theſſaly, and thus, with all his forces united into one body, he marched directly to Gomphi, a town that lies farther within that province. But the news of his defeat at Dyracchium had reached this place before him; the inhabitants therefore, who had before promiſed him obe⯑dience▪ now changed their minds, and with a degree of baſeneſs, equal to their imprudence, ſhut their gates againſt him. Caeſar was not to be injured with impunity, wherefore, having re⯑preſented to his ſoldiers the great advantage of forcing a place ſo very rich, he ordered the ma⯑chines for ſcaling to be got ready, and cauſing an aſſault to be made, proceeded with ſuch vi⯑gour, that notwithſtanding the great height of the walls, the town was taken in a few hours time. Caeſar left it to be plundered, and with⯑out delaying his march, went forward to Me⯑tropolis, [467] another town of the ſame province, which yielded at his approach; by this means, he ſoon became poſſeſſed of all Theſſaly, except Lariſſa, which was garriſoned by Scipio with his legion, who commanded for Pompey.

During this interval, Pompey's officers, being grown inſupportably vain upon their late victory, were continually ſoliciting their commander to come to a battle: every delay became inſup⯑portable to them; they preſumed to aſſert, that he was willing to make the moſt of his com⯑mand, and to keep the numerous body of ſe⯑nators and nobles that followed his fortunes, ſtill in ſubjection: confident of victory, they di⯑vided all the places in the government among each other, and portioned out the lands of thoſe, whom in imagination they had already vanquiſhed, amongſt each other. Nor did re⯑venge leſs employ their thoughts, than ambi⯑tion or avarice: this was not confined to ſuch only as had taken up arms againſt them, but to all thoſe who continued neuter, and had yet ſided with neither party. The proſcription was actu⯑ally drawn up, not for the condemnation of in⯑dividuals, but of whole ranks of the enemy: it was even propoſed, that all the ſenators in Pompey's army ſhould be appointed judges over ſuch as had either actually oppoſed, or by their neutrality, had failed to aſſiſt their party. Pompey being thus ſurrounded by men of weak [468] heads and eager expectations, and inceſſantly teized with importunities to engage, found him⯑ſelf too weak to oppoſe: he reſolved therefore at laſt, to renounce his own judgment, in com⯑pliance with thoſe about him, and to give up all ſchemes of prudence for thoſe dictated by avarice and paſſion. Wherefore, advancing into Theſſaly, within a few days after the taking of Gomphi, he drew down upon the plains of Pharſalia, where he was joined by Scipio his lieutenant, with the troops under his command. Here he awaited the coming up of Caeſar, reſolved upon engaging, and upon deciding the fate of kingdoms at a ſingle battle.

Caeſar had employed all his art for ſome time in ſounding the inclinations of his men, and providing for their ſafety in caſe of miſcarriage, but at length, finding them reſolute and vigo⯑rous, he cauſed them to advance towards the plains of Pharſalia, where Pompey was now en⯑camped. The approach of theſe two great ar⯑mies, compoſed of the beſt and braveſt troops in the world, together with the greatneſs of the prize for which they contended, filled all minds with anxiety, though with different expectations. Pompey's army, being moſt numerous, turned all their thoughts to the enjoyment of the vic⯑tory; Caeſar's, with better aims, conſidered only the means of obtaining it: Pompey's army de⯑pended upon their numbers, and their many [469] generals; Caeſar's, upon their own diſcipline, and the conduct of their ſingle commander: Pompey's partizans hoped much from the juſ⯑tice of their cauſe; Caeſar's alledged the fre⯑quent propoſals which they had made for peace without effect: thus the views, hopes and mo⯑tives of both ſeemed different, but their hatred and ambition were the ſame. Caeſar, who was ever foremoſt in offering battle, led out his ar⯑my in array to meet the enemy; but Pompey, either ſuſpecting his troops, or dreading the event, kept his advantageous ſituation for ſome time: he drew indeed ſometimes out of his camp, but always kept himſelf under his tren⯑ches, at the foot of the hill near which he was poſted. Caeſar being unwilling to attack him at a diſadvantage, reſolved to decamp the next day, hoping to harraſs out his antagoniſt, who was not a match for him in ſuſtaining the fatigues of duty; and in expectation, that as the enemy would not fail following him, he might find ſome happier opportunity of coming to an engagement. Accordingly, the order for marching was given, and the tents ſtruck, when word was brought him, that Pompey's army had quitted their entrenchments, and had advanced further into the plain than uſual, ſo that he might engage them at leſs diſadvantage. This was the juncture that Caeſar had ſo long wiſhed for in vain; ever ſince he had landed in Greece, [470] he had been employed in endeavours to draw on a general engagement and feared nothing ſo much as to protract the war: whereupon he now cauſed his troops that were upon their march to halt, and with a countenance of joy informed them that the happy time was at laſt come, which they had ſo long wiſhed for, and which was to crown their glory and terminate their fatigues. After which he drew up his troops in order, and advanced towards the place of battle. His forces did not amount to above half thoſe of Pompey; the army of the one amounting to above forty-five thouſand foot, and ſeven thouſand horſe; that of the other not exceeding twenty-two thou⯑ſand foot, and about a thouſand horſe. This diſproportion, particularly in the cavalry, had filled Caeſar with apprehenſions; wherefore he had ſome days before picked out the ſtrongeſt and nimbleſt of his foot-ſoldiers, and accuſ⯑tomed them to fight between the ranks of his cavalry. By their aſſiſtance his thouſand horſe was a match for Pompey's ſeven thouſand, and had actually got the better in a ſkirmiſh that happened between them, ſome days before.

Pompey, on the other hand, had ſtrong ex⯑pectations of ſucceſs; he boaſted in council, that he could put Caeſar's legions to flight, without ſtriking a ſingle blow, preſuming, that as ſoon as the armies formed, his ca⯑valry, [471] on which he placed his greateſt ex⯑pectations, would out-flank and ſurround the enemy. Labienus commended this ſcheme of Pompey, alledging alſo that the preſent troops of which Caeſar's army was compoſed were but the ſhadow of thoſe old legions that had fought in Britain and Gaul; that all the veterans were worn out, and had been replaced by new levies made in a hurry in Ciſalpine Gaul. To en⯑creaſe the confidence of the army ſtill more, he took an oath, which the reſt followed him in, never to return to the camp but with victory. In this diſpoſition, and under theſe advantage⯑ous circumſtances, Pompey led his troops to battle.

Pompey's order of battle was good and well judged. In the centre and on the two flanks he placed all his veterans, and diſtributed his new⯑raiſed troops between the wings and the main body. The Syrian legions were placed in the centre under the command of Scipio; the Spa⯑niards, on whom he greatly relied, were put on the right under Domitius Aenobarbus; and on the left were ſtationed the two legions which Caeſar had reſtored in the beginning of the war, led on by Pompey himſelf; becauſe from thence he intended to make the attack which was to gain the day; and for the ſame reaſon he had there aſſembled all his horſe, ſlingers and arch⯑ers, of which his right wing had no need, be⯑ing [472] covered by the river Enipeus. Caeſar like⯑wiſe divided his army into three bodies under three commanders; Domitius Calvinus being placed in the centre and Mark Anthony on the left, while he himſelf led on the right wing, which was to oppoſe the left commanded by Pompey. It is remarkable enough that Pom⯑pey choſe to put himſelf at the head of thoſe troops which were diſciplined and inſtructed by Caeſar: an inconteſtible proof how much he va⯑lued them above any of the reſt of his army. Caeſar, on the contrary, placed himſelf at the head of his tenth legion that had owed all its merit and fame to his own training. As he ob⯑ſerved the enemy's numerous cavalry to be all drawn to one ſpot, he gueſs'd at Pompey's in⯑tention; to obviate which he made a draught of ſix cohorts from his rear line, and forming them into a ſeparate body, concealed them behind his right wing, with inſtructions not to throw their javelins on the approach of Pompey's horſe, as was cuſtomary, but to keep them in their hands and puſh them directly in the faces and the eyes of the horſemen, who being compoſed of the younger part of the Roman nobility, va⯑lued themſelves much upon their beauty, and dreaded a ſcar in the face more than a wound in the body. He laſtly placed the little cavalry he had ſo as to cover the right of the tenth legion, ordering his third line not to march 'till they [473] had received the ſignal from him. And now the fate of the vaſt empire of Rome was to be decided by the greateſt generals, the braveſt of⯑ficers, and the moſt expert troops that mankind had ever ſeen 'till that hour. Each private man in both armies was almoſt capable of perform⯑ing the duty of a commander, and ſeemed in⯑ſpired with a deſire to conquer or die. As the armies approached, the two generals went from rank to rank encouraging their men, warning their hopes and leſſening their apprehenſions. Pompey repreſented to his men that the glori⯑ous occaſion which they had long beſought him to grant was now before them; ‘"And indeed, cried he, what advantages could you wiſh over an enemy that you are not now poſſeſſed of? Your numbers, your vigour, a late vic⯑tory, all aſſure a ſpeedy and an eaſy conqueſt of thoſe harraſſed and broken troops, com⯑poſed of men worn out with age and impreſt with the terrors of a recent defeat: but there is ſtill a ſtronger bulwark for our protection than the ſuperiority of our ſtrength, the juſ⯑tice of our cauſe. You are engaged in the defence of liberty and of your country; you are ſupported by its laws, and followed by its magiſtrates; you have the world ſpectators of your conduct, and wiſhing you ſucceſs: on the contrary, he whom you oppoſe is a robber and oppreſſor of his country, and al⯑moſt [474] moſt already ſunk with the conſciouſneſs of his crimes, as well as the bad ſucceſs of his arms. Shew then on this occaſion all that ardour and deteſtation of tyranny that ſhould animate Romans, and do juſtice to mankind."’ Caeſar, on his ſide, went among his men with that ſteady ſerenity for which he was ſo much admired in the midſt of danger. He inſiſted on nothing ſo ſtrongly to his ſoldiers as his frequent and unſucceſsful endeavours for peace. He talked with terror of the blood he was going to ſhed, and pleaded only the neceſſity that urged him to it. He deplored the many brave men that were to fall on both ſides, and the wounds of his country whoever ſhould be victorious. His ſoldiers anſwered his ſpeech with looks of ar⯑dour and impatience, which obſerving he gave the ſignal to begin. The word on Pompey's ſide was, Hercules the invincible: that on Cae⯑ſar's, Venus the victorious. There was only ſo much ſpace between both armies as to give room for fighting; wherefore Pompey ordered his men to receive the firſt ſhock without mov⯑ing out of their places, expecting the enemies ranks to be put into diſorder by their motion. Caeſar's ſoldiers were now ruſhing on with their uſual impetuoſity, when perceiving the enemy motionleſs, they all ſtopt ſhort, as if by gene⯑ral conſent, and halted in the midſt of their [475] career. A terrible pauſe enſued, in which both armies continued to gaze upon each other with mutual terror and dreadful ſerenity: at length, Caeſar's men having taken breath, ran furi⯑ouſly upon the enemy, firſt diſcharging their javelins and then drawing their ſwords. The ſame method was obſerved by Pompey's troops, who as vigorouſly ſuſtained the attack. His cavalry alſo were ordered to charge at the very onſet, which, with the multitude of archers and ſlingers, ſoon obliged Caeſar's men to give ground, and get themſelves, as he had foreſeen, upon the flank of his army: whereupon Caeſar immediately ordered the ſix cohorts that were placed as a reinforcement to advance, and re⯑peated his orders to ſtrike at the enemies faces. This had it's deſired effect; the cavalry, that were but juſt now ſure of victory, received an immediate check: the unuſual method of fight⯑ing purſued by the cohorts, their aiming en⯑tirely at the viſages of the aſſailants, and the horrible disfiguring wounds they made, all con⯑tributed to intimidate them ſo much, that, in⯑ſtead of defending their perſons, their only en⯑deavour was to ſave their faces. A total route enſued of their whole body, which fled in great diſorder to the neighbouring mountains, while the archers and ſlingers, who were thus aban⯑doned, were cut to pieces. Caeſar now com⯑manded the cohorts to purſue their ſucceſs, and [476] advancing, charged Pompey's troops upon the flank: this charge the enemy withſtood for ſome time with great bravery 'till he brought up his third line, which had not yet engaged. Pompey's infantry being thus doubly attacked, in front by freſh troops and in rear by the victorious cohorts, could no longer reſiſt, but fled to their camp. The flight began among the ſtrangers, though Pompey's right wing ſtill valiantly maintained their ground. Caeſar, however, being convinced that the victory was certain, with his uſual clemency, cried out to purſue the ſtrangers, but to ſpare the Romans; upon which they all laid down their arms and re⯑ceived quarter. The greateſt ſlaughter was among the auxiliaries, who fled on all quarters, but principally went for ſafety to the camp. The battle had now laſted from the break of day 'till noon, the weather being extremely hot; notwithſtanding, the conquerors did not remit their ardour, being encouraged by the ex⯑ample of their general, who thought his victory not complete till he was maſter of the enemy's camp. Accordingly, marching on foot at their head, he called upon them to follow and ſtrike the deciſive blow. The cohorts, which were left to defend the camp, for ſome time made a formidable reſiſtance; particularly a great number of Thracians and other barbarians, who were appointed for it's defence; but [477] nothing could reſiſt the ardour of Caeſar's victo⯑rious army, they were at laſt driven from their trenches, and all fled to the mountains not far off.

Caeſar ſeeing the field and camp ſtrewed with his fallen countrymen, was ſtrongly affected at ſo melancholy a proſpect, and could not help crying out to one that ſtood near him, ‘"They would have it ſo."’ Upon entering the ene⯑mies camp, every object preſented freſh inſtan⯑ces of the blind preſumption and madneſs of his adverſaries: on all ſides were to be ſeen tents adorned with ivy and branches of myrtle, couches covered with purple, and ſide-boards loaded with plate. Every thing gave proofs of the higheſt luxury, and ſeemed rather the pre⯑parative for a banquet, the rejoicings for a vic⯑tory, than the diſpoſitions for a battle. A camp ſo richly furniſhed, might have been able to en⯑gage the attention of any troops but Caeſar's, there was ſtill ſomething to be done, and he would not permit them to purſue any other ob⯑ject than their enemies, till they were entirely ſubdued. A conſiderable body of theſe having retired to the adjacent mountains, he prevailed on his ſoldiers to join him in the purſuit, in order to oblige theſe to ſurrender: he began by incloſing them with a line drawn at the foot of the mountain, but they quickly abandoned a poſt which was not tenable for want of water, [478] and endeavoured to reach the city of Lariſſa. Caeſar led a part of his army by a ſhorter way, and intercepted their retreat, drawing up in or⯑der of battle between them and the city. How⯑ever, theſe unhappy fugitives once more found protection from a mountain, at the foot of which a rivulet ran which ſupplied them with water. Now night approaching, Caeſar's men were almoſt ſpent, and ready to faint with their inceſſant toil ſince morning, yet ſtill he prevail⯑ed upon them once more to renew their la⯑bours, and to cut off the rivulet that ſupplied them. The fugitives, thus deprived of all hopes of ſuccour or ſubſiſtence, ſent deputies to the conqueror, offering to ſurrender at diſcretion: during this interval of negotia⯑tion, a few ſenators that were among them, took the advantage of the night to eſcape, and the reſt next morning gave up their arms, and experienced the conqueror's clemency. In fact, he addreſſed them with great gentleneſs, and forbade his ſoldiers to offer them any violence, or to take any thing from them. Thus Caeſar by his conduct gained the moſt complete victo⯑ry that had ever been obtained, and by his great clemency after the battle, ſeemed to have de⯑ſerved it. His loſs amounted to but two hun⯑dred men, that of Pompey to fifteen thouſand, as well Romans as auxiliaries: twenty-four thouſand men ſurrendered themſelves priſoners [479] war, and the greateſt part of theſe entered into Caeſar's army, and were incorporated with the reſt of his forces. As to the ſenators and Ro⯑man knights who fell into his hands, he gene⯑rouſly gave them liberty to retire wherever they thought proper: and as for the letters which Pompey had received from ſeveral perſons who wiſhed to be thought neutral, he burnt them all without reading them, as Pompey had done upon a former occaſion. Thus having perform⯑ed all the duties of a general and a ſtateſman, he ſent for the legions which had paſſed the night in the camp, to relieve thoſe which had accompanied him in the purſuit, and being de⯑termined to follow Pompey, began his march, and arrived the ſame day at Lariſſa.

As for Pompey, who had formerly ſhewn ſuch inſtances of courage and conduct, when he ſaw his cavalry routed, on which he had placed his ſole dependance, he abſolutely loſt his reaſon. Inſtead of thinking how to remedy this diſorder by rallying ſuch troops as fled, or by oppoſing freſh troops to ſtop the progreſs of the conquerors, being totally amazed by this firſt blow, he returned to the camp, and in his tent, waited the iſſue of an event, which it was his duty to direct, not to follow: there he remain⯑ed for ſome moments without ſpeaking, till be⯑ing told, that the camp was attacked, ‘"What, ſays he, are we purſued to our very entrench⯑ments?"’ [480] and immediately quitting his ar⯑mour for a habit more ſuited to his circum⯑ſtances, he fled away on horſeback to Lariſſa, from whence, perceiving he was not purſued, he ſlackened his pace, giving way to all the agonizing reflections which his deplorable ſitua⯑tion muſt naturally ſuggeſt. In this melancholy manner he paſſed along the vale of Tempe, and purſuing the courſe of the river Peneus, at laſt arrived at a fiſherman's hut, in which he paſſed the night. From thence he went on board a little bark, and keeping along the ſea-ſhore, he deſcryed a ſhip of ſome burthen, which ſeemed preparing to ſail, in which he embarked, the maſter of the veſſel ſtill paying him the homage which was due to his former ſtation. From the mouth of the river Peneus, he ſailed to Amphipolis, where finding his affairs deſperate, he ſteered to Leſbos, to take in his wife Cor⯑nelia, whom he had left there, at a diſtance from the dangers and hurry of the war. She who had long flattered herſelf with the hopes of victory, felt the reverſe of her fortune in an agony of diſtreſs: ſhe was deſired by the meſ⯑ſenger, whoſe tears, more than words, proclaim⯑ed the greatneſs of her misfortunes, to diſpatch if ſhe expected to ſee Pompey, with but one ſhip, and even that not his own: her grief, which before was violent, became then inſupportable; ſhe fain⯑ted away, and lay a conſiderable time without [481] any ſigns of life. At length, recovering her⯑ſelf, and reflecting it was now no time for vain lamentations, ſhe ran quite through the city, to the ſea-ſide. Pompey received her in his arms, without ſpeaking a word, and for ſome time, ſupported her in his arms in ſilent deſpair. After a pauſe of long continuance, they found words for their diſtreſs; Cornelia imputed to herſelf a part of the miſeries that were come upon them, and inſtanced many former misfor⯑tunes of her life. Pompey endeavoured to comfort her, by inſtancing the uncertainty of human affairs, and from his preſent unexpected wretchedneſs, teaching her to hope for as unex⯑pected turns of good fortune. In the mean time, the people of the iſland, who had great obligations to Pompey, gathered round them, joining in their grief, and inviting them into their city. Pompey however declined their in⯑vitation, and even adviſed them to ſubmit to the conqueror. ‘"Be under no apprehen⯑henſions, cried he, Caeſar may be my enemy, but ſtill let me acknowledge his moderation and humanity."’ Cratippus, the Greek phi⯑loſopher, alſo came to pay his reſpects. Pom⯑pey, as is but too frequent with perſons under misfortunes, complained to him of providence. Cratippus, who was a man of genius and un⯑derſtood the world, declined entering deeply into the argument, rather ſatisfied with ſupply⯑ing [482] new motives to hope, than combating the preſent impiety of his deſpair.

Having taken in Cornelia, he now continued his courſe, ſteering to the ſouth-eaſt, and ſtop⯑ping no longer than was neceſſary to take in proviſions at the ports that occurred in his paſ⯑ſage. He came before Rhodes, but the people of this city were changed with his fortunes, againſt him. From thence he went to Attilia, where he was joined by ſome ſoldiers and ſhips of war. However, theſe were nothing againſt the power of his rival, from the activity of whoſe purſuit he was in continual apprehenſions. His forces were too much ruined and diſperſed to be ever collected once more; his only hopes therefore lay in the aſſiſtance of the kings who were in his alliance, and from theſe only he could expect ſecurity and protection. He was himſelf inclined to retire to the Parthians, others propoſed Juba, king of Numidia, but he was at laſt prevailed upon to apply to Pto⯑lemy, king of Egypt, to whoſe father Pompey had been a conſiderable benefactor. Accord⯑ingly, he leſt Cilicia where he then was, and ſteering for the kingdom of Egypt, came in view of the coaſts of that country, and ſent to the young king, to implore protection and ſafe⯑ty. Ptolemy, who was as yet a minor, had not the government in his own hands, but he and his kingdom were under the protection of [483] Photinus, an eunuch, and Theodotus, a maſter of the art of ſpeaking. Before theſe therefore, Pompey's requeſt was argued: before ſuch mean and mercenary perſons was to be deter⯑mined the fate of one, who, but a few days before, had given law to kingdoms. The opi⯑nions of the council were divided, gratitude and pity inclined ſome to receive him, whilſt others, more obdurate or more timorous, were for de⯑nying him entrance into the kingdom. At length, Theodotus the rhetorician, as if willing to diſplay his eloquence, maintained, that both propoſals were equally dangerous: that to ad⯑mit him, was making Pompey their maſter, and drawing on them Caeſar's reſentment; and by not receiving him, they offended the one' without obliging the other: that therefore, the only expedient left, was to give him leave to land, and then to kill him: this would at once oblige Caeſar, and rid them of all apprehen⯑ſions from Pompey's reſentment: for, con⯑cluded he, with a vulgar and malicious joke, dead dogs can never bite. This advice pre⯑vailing in a council compoſed of the ſlaves of an effeminate and luxurious court, Achillas, commander of the forces, and Septimius, by birth a Roman, and who had formerly been a centurion in Pompey's army, were appointed to carry it into execution. Accordingly, attended by three or four more, they went into a little [484] bark, and rowed off from land towards Pom⯑pey's ſhip, that lay off about a mile from the ſhore. When Pompey and his friends ſaw the boat moving off from ſhore, they began to wonder at the meanneſs of the preparations to receive him, and ſome even ventured to ſuſpect the intentions of the Egyptian court. But be⯑fore any thing could be determined, Achillas was come up to the ſhip's ſide, and in the Greek language welcomed him to Egypt, and invited him into the boat, alledging, that the ſhallows prevented larger veſſels from coming off to receive him. Pompey, after having ta⯑ken leave of Cornelia, who wept at his depar⯑ture, and having repeated two verſes of Sopho⯑cles, ſignifying, that he who truſts his freedom to a tyrant, from that moment becomes a ſlave, gave his hand to Achillas, and ſtept into the bark, with only two attendants of his own. They had now rowed from the ſhip a good way, and as during that time they all kept a profound ſilence, Pompey, willing to begin the diſcourſe, accoſted Septimius, whoſe face he recollected. ‘"Methinks, friend, cried he, that you and I were once fellow ſoldiers together."’ Septimius gave only a nod with his head, with⯑out uttering a word, or inſtancing the leaſt ci⯑vility. Pompey therefore took out a paper, on which he had minuted a ſpeech he intended to make the king, and began reading it. In this [485] manner they approached the ſhore, and Corne⯑lia, whoſe concern had never ſuffered her to loſe ſight of her huſband, began to conceive hopes, when ſhe perceived the people on the ſtrand crowding down along the coaſts, as if willing to receive him: but her hopes were ſoon de⯑ſtroyed, for that inſtant, as Pompey roſe, ſup⯑porting himſelf upon his freedman's arm, Sep⯑timius ſtabbed him in the back, and was inſtantly ſeconded by Achillas. Pompey per⯑ceiving his death inevitable, only diſpoſed him⯑ſelf to meet it with decency, and covering his face with his robe, without ſpeaking a word, with a ſigh, reſigned himſelf to his fate. At this horrid ſight, Cornelia ſhrieked ſo loud as to be heard to the ſhore, but the danger ſhe herſelf was in did not allow the mariners time to look on, they immediately ſet ſail, and the wind proving favourable, fortunately they eſcaped the purſuit of the Egyptian gallies. In the mean time, Pompey's murderers having cut off his head, cauſed it to be embalmed, the better to preſerve its features, deſigning it for a preſent to Caeſar. The body was thrown naked on the ſtrand, and expoſed to the view of all whoſe curioſity led them that way. How⯑ever, his faithful freedman Philip ſtill kept near it, and when the crowd was diſperſed, he waſh⯑ed it in the ſea, and looking round for materials to burn it, he perceived the wrecks of a fiſhing [486] boat, of which he compoſed a pile. While he was thus piouſly employed, he was accoſted by an old Roman ſoldier, who had ſerved under Pompey in his youth. ‘"Who art thou, ſaid he, that art making theſe humble prepara⯑tions for Pompey's funeral?"’ Philip having anſwered, that he was one of his freedmen, ‘"Alas, replied the ſoldier, permit me to ſhare in this honour alſo: among all the miſeries of my exile, it will be my laſt ſad comfort, that I have been able to aſſiſt at the funeral of my old commander, and touch the body of the braveſt general that ever Rome pro⯑duced."’ After this, they both joined in giv⯑ing the corſe the laſt rites, and collecting his aſhes, buried them under a little riſing earth, ſcraped together with their hands, over which was afterwards placed the following inſcription: He whoſe merits deſerved a temple, can now ſcarce find a tomb. Such was the end, and ſuch the funeral of Pompey the Great, a man who had many opportunities of enſlaving his country, but yet rejected them all. He was fonder of glory than of power, of praiſe rather than command, and was more vain than ambitious. His talents in war were every way ſuperior to all the reſt of his cotemporaries, except Caeſar; it was therefore [...] peculiar misfortune to contend with a man, in whoſe preſence, all other military merit loſt [...] [...] luſtre. Whether his aims during the [487] laſt war were more juſt than Caeſar's, muſt for ever remain doubtful; certain it is, that he fre⯑quently rejected all offers of accommodation, and began to talk of puniſhment, before he had any pretenſions to power. But whatever might have been his intentions, in caſe of victory, they could not have been executed with more moderation than thoſe of Caeſar. The corrup⯑tions of the ſtate were too great to admit of any other cure but that of an abſolute government, and it was not poſſible that power could have fallen into better hands than thoſe of the con⯑queror. From Pompey's death therefore, we may date the total extinction of the republic. From this period the ſenate was diſpoſſeſſed of all its power, and Rome, from henceforward, was never without a maſter.