city on Mount Sion, and here held out bitterly still, rejecting the
terms offered them by Titus of unconditional surrender. The place was
strong, and defended by towers that were almost impregnable. Better
terms might have been extorted from Titus had John and Simon, the
leaders of the party of defence, been as brave as they were blatant. But
after refusing surrender they lost heart, and hid themselves in
subterranean vaults, leaving their deluded followers to their own
devices. The end came soon. A breach was made in the walls. The legions
entered, sword in hand, and with the rage of slaughter in heart. A
dreadful carnage followed. Neither sex nor age was spared. According to
Josephus, not less than one million one hundred thousand persons
perished during this terrible siege. Of those that remained alive the
most flagrant were put to death, some were reserved to grace the
victor's triumph, and the others were sent to Egypt to be sold as
slaves. As for the city, it had been in great part consumed by flames.
Thus ended the rebellion of the Jews. To rule or ruin was the terrible
motto of Rome.
_THE DESTRUCTION OF POMPEII._
On the eastern margin of the Bay of Naples, where it serves as a
striking background to the city of that name, stands the renowned
Vesuvius, the most celebrated volcano in the world. During many
centuries before the Christian era it had been a dead and silent
mountain. Throughout the earlier period of Roman history the people of
Campania treated it with the contempt of ignorance, planting their
vineyards on its fertile slopes and building their towns and villages
around its base. Under the shadow of the silent mountain armies met and
fought, and its crater was made the fort and lurking-place of Spartacus
and his party of gladiators. But the time was at hand in which a more
terrible enemy than a band of vengeful rebels was to emerge from that
threatening cavity.
The sleeping giant first showed signs of waking from his long slumber in
63 A.D., when earthquake convulsions shook the surrounding lands. These
tremblings of the earth continued at intervals for sixteen years, doing
much damage. At length, on the 24th of August of the year 79, came the
culminating event. With a tremendous and terrible explosion the whole
top of the mountain was torn out, and vast clouds of steam and volcanic
ashes were hurled high into the air, lit into lurid light by the crimson
gleams of the boiling lava below.
The scene was a frightful one. The vast, tree-like cloud, kindled
throughout its length by almost incessant flashes of lightning; the
fiery glare that gleamed upward from the glowing lava; the total
darkness that overspread the surrounding country as the dense mass of
volcanic dust floated outward, a darkness only relieved by the glare
that attended each new explosion, formed a spectacle of terror to make
the stoutest heart quail, and to fill the weak and ignorant with dread
of a final overthrow of the earth and its inhabitants.
The elder Pliny, the famous naturalist, was then in command of a fleet
at Misenum, in the vicinity. Led by his scientific interest, he
approached the volcano to examine the eruption more closely, and fell a
victim to the falling ashes or the choking fumes of sulphur that filled
the air. His nephew, Pliny the younger, then only a boy of eighteen, has
given a lucid account of what took place, in letters to the historian
Tacitus. After describing the journey and death of his uncle, he goes on
to speak of the violent earthquakes that shook the ground during the
night. He continues with the story of the next day:
"Though it was now morning, the light was exceedingly faint and languid;
the buildings all around us tottered, and though we stood upon open
ground, yet, as the place was narrow and confined, there was no
remaining there without certain and great danger; we therefore resolved
to leave the town. The people followed us in the utmost consternation,
and, as to a mind distracted with terror every suggestion seems more
prudent than its own, pressed in great crowds about us in our way out.
"Being got at a convenient distance from the houses, we stood still, in
the midst of a most dangerous and dreadful scene. The chariots which we
had ordered to be drawn out were so agitated backward and forward,
though upon the most level ground, that we could not keep them steady,
even by supporting them with large stones. The sea seemed to roll back
upon itself, and to be driven from its banks by the convulsive motion of
the earth; it is certain, at least, that the shore was considerably
enlarged, and several sea-animals were left upon it. At the other side a
black and dreadful cloud, bursting with an igneous serpentine vapor,
darted out a long train of fire, resembling flashes of lightning, but
much larger....
"Soon afterwards the cloud seemed to descend and cover the whole ocean,
as indeed it entirely hid the island of Capreae and the promontory of
Misenum. My mother strongly conjured me to make my escape at any rate,
which, as I was young, I might easily do; as for herself, she said, her
age and corpulence rendered all attempts of that sort impossible.
However, she would willingly meet death if she could have the
satisfaction of seeing that she was not the occasion of mine. But I
absolutely refused to leave her, and, taking her by the hand, I led her
on; she complied with great reluctance, and not without many reproaches
to herself for retarding my flight.
"The ashes now began to fall on us, though in no great quantity. I
turned my head, and observed behind us a thick smoke, which came rolling
after us like a torrent. I proposed, while we yet had any light, to turn
out of the high-road, lest she should be pressed to death in the dark by
the crowd that followed us. We had scarce stepped out of the path when
darkness overspread us, not like that of a cloudy night or when there is
no moon, but of a room when it is shut up and all the lights extinct.
Nothing then was to be heard but the shrieks of women, the screams of
children, and the cries of men; some calling for their children, others
for their parents, others for their husbands, and only distinguishing
each other by their voices; one lamenting his own fate, another that of
his family; some wishing to die from the very fear of dying; some
lifting their hands to the gods; but the greater part imagining that the
last and eternal night was come, which was to destroy the gods and the
world together.
"Among these were some who augmented the real terrors by imaginary ones,
and made the frightened multitude falsely believe that Misenum was in
flames. At length a glimmering light appeared, which we imagined to be
rather the forerunner of an approaching burst of flames, as in truth it
was, than the return of day. However, the fire fell at a distance from
us; then again we were immersed in thick darkness, and a heavy shower of
ashes rained upon us, which we were obliged every now and then to shake
off, otherwise we should have been crushed and buried in the heap. I
might boast that during all this scene of horror not a sigh or
expression of fear escaped from me, had not my support been found in
that miserable, though strong, consolation, that all mankind were
involved in the same calamity, and that I imagined I was perishing with
the world itself.
"At last this dreadful darkness was dissipated by degrees, like a cloud
of smoke; the real day returned, and even the sun appeared, though very
faintly, and as when an eclipse is coming on. Every object that
presented itself to our eyes seemed changed, being covered over with
white ashes, as with a deep snow."
This graphic story repeats the experience of thousands on that fatal
occasion, in which great numbers perished, while many lost their all.
Villas of wealthy Romans were numerous in the vicinity of the volcano,
while among the several towns which surrounded it three were utterly
destroyed,--Pompeii, Herculaneum, and Stabiae. Of these much the most
famous is Pompeii, which, being buried in ashes, has proved far easier
of exploration than Herculaneum, which was overwhelmed with torrents of
mud, caused by heavy rains on the volcanic ash.
Pompeii was an old town, built more than six hundred years before, and
occupied at the time of its destruction by the aristocracy of Rome.
Triumphal arches were erected there in honor of Caligula and Nero, who
probably honored it by visits. It possessed costly temples, handsome
theatres and other public buildings, luxurious residences, and all the
ostentatious magnificence arising from the wealth of the proud
patricians of Rome.
[Illustration: THE RUINS OF POMPEII.]
What Pompeii was in its best days we are not now able to estimate. It
was essentially, in its architecture, a Greek city, rich and artistic,
gay and luxurious. But on February 5, 63 A.D., came the first of the
long series of earthquakes, and when it ended nearly all of old Pompeii
was levelled with the ground. It was not yet a lost city, but was a
thoroughly ruined one. In the years that followed it was rapidly
rebuilt, Roman architecture and decoration, of often tawdry and inferior
character, replacing the chaste and artistic Greek. Once more the city
became a centre of gayety, ostentation, and licentiousness, when, in 79
A.D., the eruption of Vesuvius came, and the overwhelming storm of ashes
came down like a thick-descending fall of snow on the doomed city.
The description given by Pliny relates to a less endangered point. Upon
Pompeii the ashes settled down in seemingly unending volumes, continuing
for three days, during which all was enveloped in darkness and gloom.
The citizens fled in terror, such as were able to, though many perished
and were buried deep in their ruined homes. On the fourth day the sun
began to reappear, as if shining through a fog, and the bolder fugitives
returned in search of their lost property.
What they saw must have been frightfully disheartening. Where the busy
city had stood was now a level plain of white ashes, so deep that not a
house-top could be seen, and only the upper walls of the great theatre
and the amphitheatre were visible. Digging into the fleecy ashes, many
of them recovered articles of value, while thieves also may have reaped
a rich harvest. The emperor Titus even undertook to clear and rebuild
the city, but soon abandoned the task as too costly a one, and for many
centuries afterwards Pompeii remained buried in mud and ashes, lost to
the world, its site forgotten, and the forms of many of its old
inhabitants preserved intact in the bed of ashes in which they had
perished.
It was only in 1748 that its site was recognized, and only since 1860
has there been a systematic effort to dig the old city out of its grave.
At present nearly one-half--the most important half--of Pompeii has been
laid bare, and we are able to see for ourselves how the Romans lived.
The narrow streets, fourteen to twenty-four feet wide, are well paved
with blocks of lava, which are cut into deep ruts by the wheels of
chariots that rolled over them two thousand years ago. On each side rise
the walls of houses, two, and sometimes three, stories in height, and
some of them richly painted and adorned, while walls and columns are
brightly painted in red, blue, and yellow, which must have given the old
city a gay and festive hue.
The ornaments, articles of furniture, and domestic utensils found in
these houses go far to teach us the modes of life in Roman times, and
reveal to us that the Romans possessed many comforts and conveniences
for which we had not given them credit. Even the forms of the
inhabitants have in many cases been recovered. Though these forms have
long vanished, the hollows made by their bodies in the hardened ashes in
which they lay and slowly decayed have remained unchanged, and by
pouring liquid plaster of Paris into these cavities perfect casts have
been obtained, showing the exact shape of face and body, and even every
fold of the clothes of these victims of Vesuvius eighteen hundred years
ago. They are not altogether pleasant to see, for they express the agony
of those caught in the swift descending death of the falling volcanic
shroud, but as tenants of an archaeological museum they stand unrivalled
in lifelike fidelity.
Herculaneum, which was buried to a depth of from forty to one hundred
feet, and with wet material which has grown much harder than the ashes
of Pompeii, has been but little explored. It was the larger and more
important city of the two, while none of its treasures could have been
recovered by their owners. The art relics found there far exceed in
interest and value those of Pompeii, but the work is so difficult that
as yet very little has been done in the task of restoring this "dead
city of Campania" to the light of the modern day.
_AN IMPERIAL SAVAGE._
We have now reached the period in which began the decline and fall of
the Roman empire. Its story is crowded with events, but lacks those
dramatic and romantic incidents which give such interest to the history
of early Rome. Now good emperors ruled, now bad ones followed, now peace
prevailed, now war raged; the story grows monotonous as we advance. The
reigns of virtuous emperors yield much to commend but little to
describe; those of wicked emperors repel us by their enormities and
disgust us by their follies. We must end our tales with a few selections
from the long and somewhat dreary list.
[Illustration: EQUESTRIAN STATUE OF MARCUS AURELIUS.]
After Vespasian came to the throne, a period of nearly two centuries
elapsed during most of which Rome was governed by men of virtue and
ability, though cursed for a time by the reigns of the cruel Domitian,
the dissolute Commodus, the base Caracalla, and the foolish Elagabalus.
Fortunately, none of the monsters who disgraced the empire reigned long.
Assassination purified the throne. The total length of reign of the
cruel monarchs of Rome covered no long space of time, though they occupy
a great space in history.
We have now to tell how the patrician families of Rome lost their hold
upon the throne, and a barbarian peasant became lord and master of this
vast empire, of which his ancestors of a few generations before had
perhaps scarcely heard. The story is an interesting one, and well worth
repeating.
Just after the year 200 A.D. the emperor Septimius Severus, father of
the notorious Caracalla, while returning from an expedition to the East,
halted in Thrace to celebrate, with military games, the birthday of
Geta, his youngest son. The spectacle was an enticing one, and the
country-people for many miles round gathered in crowds to gaze upon
their sovereign and behold the promised sports.
Among those who came was a young barbarian of such gigantic stature and
great muscular development as to excite the attention of all who saw
him. In a rude dialect, which those who heard could barely understand,
he asked if he might take part in the wrestling exercises and contend
for the prize. This the officers would not permit. For a Roman soldier
to be overthrown by a Thracian peasant, as seemed likely to be the
result, would be a disgrace not to be risked. But he might try, if he
would, with the camp followers, some of the stoutest of whom were chosen
to contend with him. Of these he laid no less than sixteen, in
succession, on the ground.
Here was a man worth having in the ranks. Some gifts were given him, and
he was told that he might enlist, if he chose; a privilege he was quick
to accept. The next day the peasant, happy in the thought of being a
soldier, was seen among a crowd of recruits, dancing and exulting in
rustic fashion, while his head towered above them all.
The emperor, who was passing in the march, looked at him with interest
and approval, and as he rode onward the new recruit ran up to his horse,
and followed him on foot during a long and rapid journey without the
least appearance of fatigue.
This remarkable endurance astonished Severus. "Thracian," he said, "are
you prepared to wrestle after your race?"
"Ready and willing," answered the youth, with alacrity.
Some of the strongest soldiers of the army were now selected and pitted
against him, and he overthrew seven of them in rapid succession. The
emperor, delighted with this matchless display of vigor and agility,
presented him with a golden collar in reward, and ordered that he should
be placed in the horse-guards that formed his personal escort.
The new recruit, Maximin by name, was a true barbarian, though born in
the empire. His father was a Goth, his mother of the nation of the
Alani. But he had judgment and shrewdness, and a valor equal to his
strength, and soon advanced in the favor of the emperor, who was a good
judge of merit. Fierce and impetuous by nature, experience of the world
taught him to restrain these qualities, and he advanced in position
until he attained the rank of centurion.
After the death of Severus the Thracian served with equal fidelity under
his son Caracalla, whose favor and esteem he won. During the short
reign of the profligate and effeminate Elagabalus, Maximin withdrew
from the court, but he returned when Alexander Severus, one of the
noblest of Roman emperors, came to the throne. The new monarch was
familiar with his ability and the incidents of his unusual career, and
raised him to the responsible post of tribune of the fourth legion,
which, under his rigid care, soon became the best disciplined in the
whole army. He was the favorite of the soldiers under his command, who
bestowed on their gigantic leader the names of Ajax and Hercules, and
rejoiced as he steadily rose in rank under the discriminating judgment
of the emperor. Step by step he was advanced until he reached the
highest rank in the army, and, but for the evident marks of his savage
origin, the emperor might have given his own sister in marriage to the
son of his favorite general.
The incautious emperor was nursing a serpent. The favors poured upon the
Thracian peasant failed to secure his fidelity, and only nourished his
ambition. He began to aspire to the highest place in the empire, which
had been won by many soldiers before him. Licentiousness and profligacy
had sapped the strength of the army during the weak preceding reigns,
and Alexander sought earnestly to overcome this corruption and restore
the rigid ancient discipline. It was too great a task for one of his
lenient disposition. The soldiers were furious at his restrictions, many
mutinies broke out, his officers were murdered, his authority was widely
insulted, he could scarcely repress the disorders that broke out in his
immediate presence.
This sentiment in the army offered the opportunity desired by Maximin.
He sent his emissaries among the soldiers to enhance their discontent.
For thirteen years, said these men, Rome had been governed by a weak
Syrian, the slave of his mother and the senate. It was time the empire
had a man at its head, a real soldier, who could add to its glory and
win new treasures for his followers.
Alexander had been engaged in a war with Persia. He had no sooner
returned than an outbreak in Germany forced him to hasten to the Rhine.
Here a large army was assembled, made up in part of new levies, whose
training in the art of war was given to the care of Maximin. The
discipline exacted by Alexander was no more acceptable to the soldiers
here than elsewhere, and the secret agents of the ambitious Thracian
found fertile ground for their insinuations.
At length all was ripe for the outbreak. One day--March 19, 239 A.D.--as
Maximin entered the field of exercise, the troops suddenly saluted him
as emperor, and silenced by violent exclamations his obstinate show of
refusal. The rebels rushed to the tent of Alexander and consummated
their conspiracy by striking him dead. His most faithful friends
perished with him; others were dismissed from court and army; and some
suffered the cruelest treatment from the unfeeling usurper. Thus it was
that the imperial dignity descended from the noblest citizens of Rome to
a peasant of a distant province of barbarian origin. It was one of the
most striking steps in the decline of the empire.
The new emperor was a man of extraordinary physical powers. He is said
to have been more than eight feet in height, while his strength and
appetite were in accordance with his gigantic stature. It is stated that
he could drink seven gallons of wine and eat thirty or forty pounds of
meat in a day, and could move a loaded wagon with his arms, break a
horse's leg with his fist, crumble stones in his hands, and tear up
small trees by the roots. His mental powers did not accord with his
physical ones. He was savage of aspect, ignorant of civilized arts,
destitute of accomplishments, and ruthless in disposition.
He had the virtues of the camp, and these had endeared him to the
soldiers, but his barbarian origin, his savage appearance, and his
rudeness and ignorance were the contempt of cultivated people, and had
gained him many rebuffs in his humbler days. He was now in a position to
revenge himself, not only on the haughty nobles who had treated him with
contempt, but even on former friends who were aware of his mean
origin,--of which he was heartily ashamed. For both these crimes many
were put to death, and the slaughter of several of his former
benefactors has stained the memory of Maximin with the basest
ingratitude.
Rome, in the strange progress of its history, had raised a savage to the
imperial seat, and it suffered accordingly. A scion of the despised
barbarians of the northern forests was now its emperor, and he visited
on the proud citizens of Rome the wrongs of his ancestors. The suspicion
and cruelty of Maximin were unbounded and unrelenting. A consular
senator named Magnus was accused of a conspiracy against his life.
Without trial or opportunity for defence Magnus was put to death, with
no less than four thousand supposed accomplices.
This was but an incident in a frightful reign of terror. The emperor
kept aloof from his capital, but he filled Rome, and the whole empire,
in fact, with spies and informers. The slightest accusation or suspicion
was sufficient for the blood-thirsty tyrant. On a mere unproved charge
Roman nobles of the highest descent--men who had served as consuls,
governed provinces, commanded armies, enjoyed triumphs--were seized,
chained on the public carriages, and borne away to the distant camp of
the low-born tyrant.
Here they found neither justice nor compassion. Exile, confiscation, and
ordinary execution were mild measures with Maximin. Some of the
unfortunates were clubbed to death, some exposed to wild beasts, some
sewed in the hides of slaughtered animals and left to perish. The worst
enormities of Caligula and Nero were rivalled by this rude soldier, who,
during the three years of his reign, disdained to visit either Rome or
Italy, and permitted no men of high birth, elegant accomplishments, or
knowledge of public business to approach his person. His imperial seat
shifted from a camp on the Rhine to one on the Danube, and his sole idea
of government seems to have been the execution of the suspected.
It was the great that suffered, and to this the people were indifferent.
But they all felt his avarice. The soldiers demanded rewards, and the
empire was drained to supply them. By a single edict all the stored-up
revenue of the cities was taken to supply Maximin's treasury. The
temples were robbed of their treasures, and the statues of gods, heroes,
and emperors were melted down and converted into coin. A general cry of
indignation against this impiety rose throughout the Roman world, and it
was evident that the end of this frightful tyranny was approaching.
An insurrection broke out in Africa. It was supported in Rome. But it
ended in failure, the Gordians, father and son, who headed it, were
slain, and the senate and nobles of Rome fell into mortal terror. They
looked for a frightful retribution from the imperial monster. With the
courage of despair they took the only step that remained: two new
emperors, Maximus and Balbinus, were appointed, and active steps taken
to defend Italy and Rome.