CHAPTER I.

THE FALL OF ROME.

SECTION I.--TAKING OF THE CITY.

The city of Rome had sustained little diminution in her architectural splendour, when the setting sun shed his parting beams, as if with prophetic significance, upon the gilded roof of the venerable capitol, on the evening of the 24th of August, A.D. 410. The temple of Jupiter, though shorn of some of the dazzling ornaments with which the emperor Domitian had adorned its portals and pediments, still remained an imposing monument of the ancient paganism of the Imperial City. Other costly temples and public buildings, clustered around that seat of Roman pride and greatness, and met and charmed the eye of the citizen, as he ascended the slope of the Capitoline Hill. With a lordly air, these noble structures threw their long shadows over the spacious forum, where, of old, the sons of the republic had been accustomed to gather in crowds around the rostrum, to listen to the speeches of their orators; and where still the degenerate Roman was reminded of the deeds of his fathers, by the monuments of patriotism and victory which were strewn around him. On that evening, might be seen many a citizen and foreigner passing to and fro, along its stately colonnades, or reclining at his ease upon the marble seats; and in whatever direction he went, on leaving that far-famed spot, he passed through squares and streets which were adorned with temples, palaces, and baths, such as could have been erected in no city but one that had enriched itself with the spoils of the whole world. In short, Rome had undergone but little alteration since the eastern emperor Constantius, fifty years before, on visiting the city of his fathers, had been overwhelmed with astonishment at its surpassing magnificence. An historian of that period,[1] describing the visit in that inflated style which is so characteristic of the age, observes; "As Constantius viewed the seven-hilled city, with its valleys and suburban districts, every object around him seemed to shine with transcendent splendour:--the temple of Tarpeian Jove exceeding everything he had beheld, as much as a Divine production could exceed the works of man; the spacious baths spreading around like provinces; the Amphitheatre with its solid walls of Tiburtine marble, and so lofty, that the eye is fatigued in looking upward to its summit; the Pantheon with its vast circular space, arched over by a magnificent dome; and its lofty pediments rising one above another, and crowned with statues of Roman heroes; the Forum and Temple of Peace; the Theatre of Pompey; the Musical Hall; the Stadia, and other imposing objects in the Eternal City. But when he came to the Forum of Trajan--the most astonishing structure under the face of heaven, and, as I conceive, wonderful in the estimation of the deities themselves--he was struck with astonishment, while considering its gigantic buildings, which are not to be described in language, or again to be equalled by mortal skill. Discarding the idea of erecting another forum like that, he thought that he might rear an equestrian statue, which should resemble the colossal horse of Trajan; but this design he also abandoned, upon hearing it remarked by the prince, Hormisdas, 'If you would succeed in having a similar horse, you must first provide a similar stable,'" Such was the grandeur of ancient Rome; and it was probably with feelings of admiration like those of the emperor and his historian, that many a citizen returned from the baths and the forums to his own dwelling on the eventful evening in question. Gradually the sounds of business, and the murmur of voices in the streets died away: and as the stars shone forth in the face of heaven, the mighty city slept in silence. But it was a silence soon to be disturbed.

At the midnight hour, a blast of trumpets like the roar of thunder reverberated from hill to hill, and woke up myriads of the inhabitants from their deep slumbers--it was the signal that Alaric the Goth, with his mighty army, had entered Rome.

Two years before the barbarian general had besieged the city. Swayed by what he conceived a supernatural impulse, he led his victorious troops down the passes of the Apennines, upon the rich plains of Italy. A pious monk, it is said, met the warrior on his way, and exhorted him to refrain from his expedition; but he replied, "I am urged on in spite of myself, by an irresistible impulse which is continually saving to me, 'March to Rome, and desolate the city.'"[2] Thus, prompted by his ambition, he fulfilled his destiny, and wreaked a fearful amount of vengeance on the heads of the Romans, for the wrongs which they had inflicted upon others. Twice did he blockade the gates of Rome, and subdue the proud masters of the world. During the first siege, the terrors of famine and pestilence reduced the senate to submission, and the conqueror agreed to raise the siege, only upon the condition of his being paid a very large ransom. Negotiations for peace with the emperor Honorius, who was then at Ravenna, having failed, Alaric returned to Rome, and again pitched his camp before the walls. The remembrance of their calamities, during the former siege, constrained the people once more to yield; when the Gothic warrior insisted upon their renouncing allegiance to Honorius, and imposed upon them a new emperor in the person of Attalus, the prefect of the city. But it was not long before the latter forfeited the confidence of his master, and Alaric immediately proceeded publicly to strip him of the imperial purple. The Goth, after this circumstance, renewed his negotiations with the court of Ravenna; but being insulted by the heralds, and attacked by the troops of Honorius, he turned his army a third time towards the gates of Rome.[3]

Historians inform us, that it was by an act of treachery, that Alaric was now admitted into the city; but no satisfactory information can be obtained respecting the particulars of the important transaction. The Gothic trumpet, however, at the Salarian gate, the march of the enemy along the great highway, and the flames issuing from the palace of Sallust--which was fired by the troops, as soon as they entered within the walls--proclaimed that Rome, the Queen of Cities, after the lapse of nearly eight hundred years from her invasion by the Gauls, was once more in the hands of a barbarian foe. Although the Romans had been aware of the vicinity of Alaric, yet, lulled into a state of false security, they did not anticipate any assault, and the senators were quietly slumbering in their beds when the enemy entered the city. Fearful were the scenes enacted; and well might Jerome apply to it the lines of Virgil, in reference to the sack of Troy:

"What tongue can tell the slaughter of that night? What eyes can weep the sorrow and affright? An ancient and imperial city falls-- The streets are fill'd with frequent funerals; Houses and holy temples float in blood, And hostile nations made a common flood; All parts resound with tumults, plaints, and fears, Ana grisly death in sundry shapes appears."

The cruel and licentious soldiery made a dreadful slaughter of the Roman people, and violated many a matron and virgin. The horrors of the invasion were further heightened by the excesses which were practised by forty thousand slaves, who now broke loose from the authority of their masters, and retaliated, on them and their families, the wrongs which themselves and their predecessors had endured through ages of oppression. But it is acknowledged by all writers, that Alaric--who was himself an Arian--showed some considerable regard for the Christians of the city, and spared the churches where they met for worship. Indeed he appointed the edifices, which had been dedicated to the apostles Peter and Paul, as places of refuge for the terrified Christian inhabitants, and gave strict orders that those who fled there for sanctuary, should be protected from injury. Instances illustrative of the forbearance of the soldiers, and of their respect not only for the persons of the Christians but for the consecrated vessels which they employed in their worship, are afforded us by the historians of those times. Orosius gives us a graphic description of a long train of Christians, carrying on their heads the communion-plate of gold and silver, and singing their sacred hymns, who were escorted in safety, by the Gothic soldiers, through the streets of the ravaged city, to the church of St. Peter. He speaks also of many of the barbarians, and the pagan Romans, uniting in these songs, and joining in the solemn procession; and represents the latter as saving themselves from vengeance, by taking shelter beneath the wing of the Christian faith.

But, notwithstanding this abatement of the horrors connected with the taking of Rome, enough is recorded on the page of authentic history to convey a fearful idea of that memorable event. Numbers were slain, the houses of the wealthy were pillaged, their most costly treasures were unsparingly seized, many of the most beautiful works of art were destroyed; and if only a few of the buildings of Rome were reduced to ashes, they were all, no doubt, stripped of whatever was valuable, and capable of being removed in the heavy wagons which followed in the rear of the Gothic army. Multitudes of the people of rank were sold for slaves, or driven into exile. "Who would believe," exclaims Jerome, "that Rome, built up with the spoils of the whole world, and the very cradle of nations, should be turned into a sepulchre; that the shores of Egypt, Africa, and the east, should be crowded with the handmaids of the imperial city; that every day nobles of both sexes, who had lived in affluence, should come as beggars to the sanctuaries of Bethlehem."[4]

But it is not the intention of the author to write a history of the invasion of Rome by Alaric: he has selected that event, simply as a starting-point in his introduction to a review of the state of society in the middle ages. That invasion forms the first grand epoch in the fall of Rome, which thenceforth became the prey of barbarian violence, till, at length, no traces of its greatness remained, and the eternal city itself became a field of ruins. And as it was the fall of Rome which prepared the way for the social phenomena of the mediæval period, it was natural, before entering upon an enumeration of those times, to glance at the event which appears so conspicuously among the causes which effected them.

It will be proper, before we proceed further, briefly to notice the previous state of Roman civilisation, as this will in some measure explain the remarkable fact of so great an empire having been overrun by barbarians, and will also illustrate the character of that form of society which was succeeded by the social changes of the middle ages.

[1] Ammianus Marcellinus, lib. xvi. c. 10.

[2] Socrates, Hist., lib. vii. c. 10.

[3] Gibbon's Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, chap. xxxi.

[4] Hieron., Pref. in Ezekiel.

SECTION II.

ROMAN CIVILISATION.

The history of Rome is that of a municipality pushing its vigorous arms in all directions, extending its influence on every side, without suffering its own central power to be affected--without admitting any other city or country to share in its dominion; other cities were but her daughters, or her slaves, and her extensive provinces were but like so many vast suburbs encircling her walls. The chief magistrates in the Roman city were the chief magistrates in the Roman world. This phenomenon of a single municipal government administering the affairs of a wide surrounding territory, and of distant provinces and colonies, is the very type of ancient political civilisation: there is nothing like it in Europe, in modern times. London is a great municipality, but the power of its magistracy is confined within its own walls. If we connect with it the neighbouring city of Westminster, it derives considerable political importance from its being the locality where the national government is accustomed to meet; but, in this respect, its character is very different from Rome. It draws together the lines of influence which flow from the provinces, it receives and concentrates them: but the city of Rome was the centre of a system of absolute power, spreading its ramifications over the world. The former unites and gives intensity to what it receives from without--the latter propelled far and wide an influence which originated from within. Rome was the fountain of political power--London is but the focus.

"A municipality like Rome," says Guizot, "had been able to conquer the world, but it was not so easy a task to govern and organize it. Thus when the work seemed consummated, when all the west, and a great part of the east, had fallen under the Roman sway, we find this prodigious accumulation of cities, of small states, instituted for isolation and independence, disunited, detached from each other, and slipping the noose, as it were, in all directions. This was one of the causes which led to the necessity of an empire."[1]

Under Augustus, Rome lost its republican character, and became an imperial city--a military despotism succeeded to free institutions. Mercenary troops and standing armies took the place of those invincible legions which had been composed of Roman citizens; and the new military power thus created was placed in the hands of the Roman emperor. The senate remained, together with other institutions which had existed in the days of the republic; but they had lost the spirit which had once animated them, and were now overshadowed and rendered almost powerless by the influence of imperial authority. Under Diocletian a system of partition was introduced, when the two Augusti and the two Cæsars became the rulers of the four great provinces into which the Roman empire was divided: this new system affected both the form and the spirit of the government; for, by removing these rulers from the city to their respective provinces, it released them from whatever little restraint the senate might have put upon their proceedings. They became absolute sovereigns, oppressing the provinces by their exactions, and spreading desolation around them, by their wars with each other. Constantine overcame all his rivals in power, and engrossed to himself the whole government of the empire; but by removing his residence and court from Rome to Constantinople, he prepared for that separation of the eastern from the western provinces, which produced in fact two separate and independent empires. Other changes were introduced by Constantine: the despotism of the court succeeded to the despotism of the army: state officers were multiplied without number; and, as Heeren observes, "if the good of a commonwealth consisted in forms, rank and title, the Roman empire must at this time have been truly happy!"[2]

How completely had Rome now lost the greatness which she once possessed! patriotism had faded from the empire; the spirit of liberty had expired. If republican forms remained, the life which had once animated them was gone, and they were made the covering for despotic practices, and oriental courtiership. Laws no longer depended on the decrees of the senate, but on the rescripts of emperors, and government sank into a fearful despotism,--the punishment, under Divine Providence, of states unfaithful to liberty. It has been often observed, that despotism was the only kind of rule which could hold the Roman empire together during the last age of its history: but what a striking proof does that fact present of the thoroughly corrupt state of Roman civilisation!

Society in Rome was divided into three great classes, nobles, plebeians, and slaves. The accounts which are given by historians of the wealth, splendour, and luxury of the first of these classes, almost exceed belief. A writer of the period, describing the state of Rome under Honorius, relates, that several of the senators received from their estates an annual income of four thousand pounds of gold, which would be equivalent to more than one hundred and sixty thousand pounds sterling, without reckoning provision of corn and wine, which, if sold, would have realized one-third of that sum. The estates of these patricians spread over distant provinces, and, as early as the time of Seneca, "rivers which had divided hostile nations, flowed through the lands of private citizens." With such resources at their command, there were no bounds to their extravagance. "Many of their mansions might excuse the exaggeration of the poet, that Rome contained a multitude of palaces, and that each palace was equal to a city; since it included within its own precincts everything which could be subservient either to use or luxury--markets, hippodromes, temples, fountains, baths, porticoes, shady groves, and artificial aviaries."[3] A remarkable instance of Roman splendour, belonging to an earlier period, is afforded in the account we have of the house of Scaurus, which was valued at a sum equal to £885,000 of our money. A distinguished antiquary has given a fancy picture of the dining-room in this palace, which was probably equalled in some of the Roman houses of a later date. He describes the apartment as divided into two portions; the upper occupied by tables and couches, the lower left empty for the convenience of attendants. The former was adorned with valuable curtains: garlands entwined with ivy divided the wall into compartments, which were bordered by fanciful ornaments: and the frieze above the columns was formed in twelve divisions, each of which was surmounted by a sign of the zodiac, and by meat, fish, and game, emblematical of the season. Bronze lamps, suspended from the ceiling, or raised on candelabra, shed a brilliant light, and were trimmed by slaves. The tables were of citron-wood more precious than gold, and rested on ivory feet. The couches were overlaid with silver, gold, and tortoise-shell; the mattresses were of Gallic wool, dyed purple; the cushions of silk, embroidered with gold, were worked at Babylon, and cost thirty-two thousand pounds. The pavement was of mosaic, and represented the fragments of a feast scattered about, as if the floor had not been swept since the last meal. While waiting for their masters, young slaves strewed over the pavement sawdust, dyed with saffron, and vermilion, mixed with a brilliant powder, made from the _lapis specularis_, or talc.[4] An historian, before quoted,[5] who lived during the fourth century, gives a lively description of the Roman nobility at that time, from which it appears that luxury of every kind was carried to the greatest excess. They adorned their houses with magnificent statues of themselves. Their robes were of the most costly description, and became a burden to the wearer from the immoderate weight of their rich embroidery. When they travelled to any distance, so large was the retinue that it was like the march of an army, and even when they rode in their splendid chariots through the streets of the city, they were followed by a train of fifty servants, and tore up the very pavement by their furious driving. Sometimes they sailed in their painted yachts from the Lucrine lake, on the coast of Puteoli, and thought when they had done it, that they had performed an exploit which might rival the expeditions of either Alexander or Cæsar. Their tables were covered with the rarest delicacies, and the pleasures of the feast occupied no small share of their time and conversation. Musical concerts and visiting the baths, the theatres, and other places of amusement, absorbed nearly all the rest. Great was the change since the days of Cincinnatus. Roman simplicity had been succeeded by oriental magnificence. Cloaks of Laconian wool and purple, tables of thurga-root, with claws of silver and ivory, services of plate, set with precious stones, furniture of the costliest materials, and most elegant workmanship, banqueting-halls of florid architecture, baths of marble, and villas surrounded by enchanting gardens, were now the signs of greatness, instead of wisdom in the cabinet, or valour in the field.

The second class of Roman society consisted of the plebeian citizens, numbers of whom, neglecting all industrious employments, lived upon the public distribution of bread, bacon, oil, and wine, which, from the time of Augustus, had been made for the relief of the indigent among the people. These idlers spent their time chiefly in baths and taverns, and in witnessing those public amusements in the circus and the theatre, which their corrupt magistrates and great men, from the emperors downwards, were accustomed to provide as a means of securing and maintaining popularity. "Some," says Ammianus, "passed the night in taverns, and others under the awnings of the theatres: they occupied their time in playing at dice, or, which was a more favourite employment, in sitting from morning till evening in the sun or the rain, enjoying the amusements of the circus, and discussing the excellences, or the defects of the horses and the charioteers. It was truly surprising to see an innumerable concourse of people, with the most ardent minds, watching the event of a chariot face."[6]

The third portion of Roman society consisted of slaves. This unhappy class formed a large portion of the Roman population from an early period. So numerous were they at one time, that when it was proposed to distinguish them from the citizens by a particular dress, the proposal was negatived, on the ground that it would be dangerous to the state, if these bondmen discovered their numerical strength. Domestic occupations of all kinds were allotted to slaves, numbers of them were employed as artisans. Some of them were devoted to professional pursuits; and great men had among their slaves, physicians, librarians, and secretaries: a state of things obviously most pernicious, as the moral influence exerted by them upon the families with whom they resided must have been most injurious: nor was the peril small from having so large a class of persons in the community, whose feelings towards their masters, in a multitude of instances, must have been deeply embittered. At one period, the possessors of slaves in Rome exercised over them a perfectly irresponsible authority, and scourged and put them to death at pleasure: but under the emperors Adrian, and the Antonines, the shield of legal protection was extended over this oppressed portion of society. Some melioration in the state of Roman slaves, no doubt, was secured during the last age of the empire; but the wrongs inseparable from slavery were still endured, and a disposition to be avenged on their oppressors still nourished; for amidst the scenes of terror and violence, which marked the taking of Rome by Alaric, we have seen forty thousand slaves rising to join the Goths in shedding Roman blood, and in trampling in the dust the remains of Roman pride and greatness. That the servile part of the Roman population, ministering, as they did, to the luxury, the extravagance, and the vices of their masters, partook of the prevalent moral corruption of the times is certain; and thus society, in the imperial city, presented the picture so affectingly described by the prophet, "the whole head is sick, and the whole heart faint, from the sole of the foot even unto the head there is no soundness in it: but wounds and bruises and putrifying sores; they have not been closed, neither bound up, neither mollified with ointment."[7]

Had not Christianity "mollified" them? No doubt what there was of healing and preserving power in society at Rome, during its latter days, proceeded from the influence of the Christian religion; and it is worthy of remark that the court of the Christian emperors presented a striking contrast, in point of morality, with the court of their pagan predecessors. There were also pious believers, who saw, and bewailed the increasing tide of popular depravity,--who "sighed and cried because of the abominations done in the midst of the city." But it must not be forgotten, that by the close of the fourth century Christianity in Rome was not what it was in the days when Paul wrote his epistle to the church, and congratulated them on their faith and piety. "The gold had become dim." Very great innovations had been made upon Christian doctrine and practice: they had been slowly growing up for years, and, after the council of Nice, developed themselves more boldly than before. Christianity originally appeared as a system of wisdom and mercy, for the reconciliation of fallen man with God through the one Mediator, Jesus Christ, and for the renewal of his depraved nature by the power of the Holy Spirit; but now a crowd of inferior mediators had begun to rise in the church, and to hide the Saviour from the eye of the repenting sinner; while the scriptural doctrine of Divine influence was made void by the notion of the saving efficacy of the sacraments. In the New Testament we are informed that the religion of Christ is not a religion of forms--that the kingdom of God is not meat and drink, but righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost; but now ceremonies were multiplied, men were led to addict themselves to these as of primary importance, and to lose sight of the spirituality of the Christian scheme. The morality of the gospel, as taught by Christ and his apostles, was pure and perfect; but in the writings of some of the Fathers it assumed a different character, for "there principles may be found concerning veracity, which undermine the foundation of all true virtue."[8] The church at first was "not of this world;" but now a spirit of secularity took possession of it, and it was hastening to identify itself more and more with the powers of the earth.

Scenes were witnessed in Rome, in connexion with ecclesiastical proceedings, which, so far from presenting an instructive and beneficial contrast to the flagrant disorders of society at the time, were of the very same description. "Damasus and Ursinus being extremely ambitious for the episcopal dignity, contended for it so fiercely, that, in the quarrel, were inflicted wounds and death; when Juventius, the prefect of Rome, not being able to repress these outrages, retired from the city. Damasus overcame. In the church of Licinius, where there was an assembly of Christians, a hundred and thirty-seven were killed in one day; and it was a long time before the excitement of the people was calmed." "Do not deny," proceeds the heathen historian, "that considering the wealth of the city, they who covet such things are justified in pursuing them, even though it be with contention, since, having obtained these honours, they will be enriched with the oblations of matrons, and will ride, sumptuously clad, in chariots, and make profuse entertainments, vying with regal banquets. But surely they might be happy, if disregarding the grandeur of Rome, which they allege as a reason for their luxury, they would follow the example of provincial bishops, who, by the plainness of their table, and their unostentatious dress and manners, commend themselves to the Divine Being as men of purity and religion."[9]

There is no doubt of the truth of this statement, respecting the episcopal quarrel, as it is corroborated by Socrates and Sozomenes, who were Christian historians: and while the satirical remark of the pagan writer, respecting the luxury of the bishops of Rome, throws a sad light on the state of the church in that city, his admission relative to the simplicity and virtues of some of the provincial pastors, shows that Christianity was still yielding its own proper fruit in other places. Christianity, thus corrupted and secularized, was not likely to produce a salutary influence upon society, and to retard the progress of moral decay and dissolution in the Roman state. Besides, Christianity, such as it was, had by no means been universally embraced in Rome, though the emperors had adopted the profession of Christianity, and laws had been made for its support. Paganism was still the religion of many. In the year A.D. 384, the senate petitioned that the altar of victory might be restored in the senate-house; and, at the time of Alaric's invasion, there were some of the same assembly, who recommended that Rome should endeavour to avert impending calamities, which they attributed to the anger of the gods, on account of the spread of Christianity, by offering, as of old, sacrifices to their honour, in the capitol, and other temples. Pagan rites, too, were no doubt sometimes performed in private, till a late period; for though the laws forbade them, the magistrates seem to have displayed a tolerant spirit toward the lingering vestiges of the ancient religion of the empire. Such being the case, Christianity having been corrupted, and paganism still existing to a great extent, in the city and the empire, the vice and profligacy of the Roman people, under the latest of the emperors, can furnish no materials for any just reflection upon the social tendencies of the Christian system, considered in itself.

In an age of social corruption and licentiousness, it would be vain to expect the cultivation of a pure taste in matters of art, or any noble efforts of the human intellect in the departments of literature. The imagination and judgment of mankind feel the moral contagion, and the intellectual energies in general become enfeebled and depressed. Hence the artistic civilisation of Rome, at the period before us, displayed a most vitiated taste. The studious imitation of classic beauty, as expressed in Grecian works of art, characterized the early cultivation of artistical skill among the Romans, and led them to produce buildings and statues which might bear comparison with their admired models; but now, a taste for the really elegant, had been superseded by a passion for oriental magnificence and luxury. Colossal magnitude, and profuse ornaments, excited admiration rather than symmetry of proportion, and chasteness of decoration. As to literature, it was either neglected altogether, or cultivated according to the prevailing taste.

"The causes of this decay," observes Ammianus Marcellinus, "are not difficult to be traced: they are the dissipation of our young men, the inattention of parents, the ignorance of those who pretend to give instruction, and the total neglect of ancient discipline. The mischief began at Rome, it has overrun Italy, and is now with rapid strides spreading through the provinces." The same author also distinctly notices, in his sketch of the state of Rome, the prevalent ignorance and corrupt tastes of the higher classes, observing, that musical performers were preferred to philosophers; and that jugglers had taken the place of orators; while libraries were closed and deserted, like sepulchres of the dead.[10]

From this slight review of well attested facts, it must be evident to the reader, that Roman civilisation, immediately before the fall of the empire, was thoroughly corrupt. Every one will discern, in that corruption, enough to account for the prostration of the proud imperial city, beneath the power of barbarians. But the Christian mind will further recognise, in the facts of this memorable case, the operations of one of the established laws of Divine Providence. The full punishment of individual men for their transgressions in this life, is reserved for a future state of being; but as nations in their collective capacity, will have no existence hereafter, the punishments of their sins is sure to be inflicted upon them sooner or later in the present world. The retributive justice of God is as clearly to be seen in the overthrow of Rome, as in the extirpation of the Canaanites, or the fall of Jerusalem.

[1] Guizot's Lect. on Civilisation, lect. 2.

[2] Manual of Ancient History. Oxf. p. 450.

[3] Gibbon, vol. iv. p. 94.

[4] Pompeii, vol. ii. p. 13.

[5] Ammianus Marcellinus.

[6] Ammianus Marcellinus. lib. xiv. c. 25.

[7] Gibbon gives a full view of the state of Roman society, ch. xxxi. of his "Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire."

[8] Giesler, vol. i. p. 298.

[9] Ammianus Marcellinus, lib. lxxvii. c. 3.

[10] Ammianus Marcellinus, lib. xiv. c. 6.

SECTION III.

BARBARIANS.

The Goths, the first of the barbarians who invaded Rome, were descended from one of those tribes whom Tacitus has described in his valuable treatise on the manners of the Germans. They were wandering hordes, neglecting agriculture, living upon the produce of the chase, and upon their prolific flocks and herds. Unlike the now effeminate Romans, they were hardy and robust. War was their business, conquest their delight, and the sword and buckler their choicest ornaments. Freedom was their birthright, and the power of their rulers was curbed by considerable limitations. In peace, their princes were bound to consult them on all affairs of government, and in war, it was left to the soldier to choose the standard under which he would enlist: but once pledged to a particular chief, no dangers or allurements could induce him to desert. A spirit of fidelity and freedom mingled with their ferocious habits, and formed the national characteristic of this remarkable race. The lapse of some three centuries, intercourse with the Romans during the latter part of that period, and the professed adoption of the Arian form of Christianity, had no doubt, in some measure, modified the Gothic character; and if we are to admit the statement of Salvian, a writer of that period, it would further appear that the morals of the barbarians were of a higher tone than those of the empire. Still there can be no doubt that they retained much of their original fierce independence of character.[1]

We have already glanced at the spectacle of Rome invaded by the Goths under Alaric: but though that invasion was a fatal blow given to the city, and the empire, it did not complete their ruin. Rome was not built, nor could it be destroyed, in a day. Forty years after it had yielded to the Goths, it beheld another enemy approaching its gates, in the person of Attila, the chief of the Huns, a tribe pre-eminently barbarous and cruel, who had forsaken their encampments in Hungary, to seek victory and spoil in the fair and fruitful provinces of the south. Yet this powerful prince, moved by the persuasion of Leo, the bishop of Rome, and, perhaps, still more by costly gifts; by the prevalence of disease among his troops; and by the superstitious presentiments of his own mind, abandoned his design of entering Rome, and gave another respite to the doomed city.

Twenty-four years elapsed, and Odoacer, at the head of the Vandals--who, with the Goths, seemed to have sprung from a common origin--again inspired terror in the enfeebled Romans, took the city, dethroned the last of the emperors--who was styled Romulus Augustus, as if in mockery of the proud associations connected with those two noble names--and caused himself to be proclaimed the king of Rome. But the empire cannot be said, even then, to have completely fallen; for the barbarian rulers held the government, in commission, under the imperial successors of Constantine, who occupied the throne of the east. Scenes of conflict and desolation followed in rapid succession: the wars of Totila with Belisarius fearfully ravaged the region of Italy, and left Rome a scene of ruins; but the establishment of the exarchate of Ravenna kept up some faint shadow of the empire of Constantine, till Charlemagne was crowned king of the Romans, when the last vestiges of that great commonwealth melted away for ever.

The ancient city of Rome was at once the type, and the centre of the civilisation of the old world. Her image was reflected in the great cities which adorned the shores of the Mediterranean, and she spread her manners, arts, and luxury, over the far distant nations which she subdued. But her power being thoroughly despotic, and her civilisation corrupt at the core, the laws of Divine Providence rendered her overthrow inevitable; and in her fall were involved the dissolution of the forms, and the extinction of the spirit of ancient civilisation. It is probable that had Rome pursued a different course, the night of the middle ages would not have brooded over Europe; and that to her despotism and vices may be traced the origin, or the occasion, of those social evils which followed for so long a period. But that Divine and gracious Being, who maketh the wrath of man to praise him, and who turneth the shadow of death into the morning, has so controlled events, as to make those temporary evils subservient to lasting good. The Gothic invasion, as it were, melted down the forms of ancient society, and infused into the mass new elements of power, thus furnishing the materials for the civil and social polity of modern times. The progress of the change was gradual--the beneficial result could not spring forth at once in a finished and perfect state; it was developed, after the lapse of ages, like useful vegetation, clothing some rich and fruitful soil, which has been formed by gradual deposits in the bed of some ancient lake, or river, and left to yield its treasures when the waters have retired.

[1] See extracts from Salvian in "Ancient Christianity." vol. ii. 71.