(1.) _Les Césars, par Franz de Champagny._ 3 vols. Paris: Bray.
(2.) _Les Antonines, par le Comte de Champagny._ 3 vols. Paris: Bray.
The history of the Roman Empire must ever have an interest peculiar to
itself. It stands alone. Nothing in the past has been, nothing in the
future can be, like it. It was the whole civilized world. It gathered
into itself the traditions of all that had ever been great and
illustrious in the human race, Assyrian, Egyptian, Persian, Hebrew,
Phoenician, Greek, Etruscan, as well as those of the multitudinous
western tribes--Italian, Gallic, Iberian or Teutonic, which had only
made themselves known as warriors. The civilization, the arts and
sciences, the laws and institutions, the poetry and philosophy, the
whole accumulated literary treasures of all past generations were
risked on a single venture. Rome had no rival on earth, and could have
no successor. She was the ark in which were preserved all the riches
of the past, all the hopes of the future. For many centuries the most
gifted races of men had been toiling and suffering, and there was no
reason to suppose that man was capable of doing more than had been
effected by their united efforts. If that was lost, all was lost. It
was no idle boast, then, when men said, 'When Rome shall fall, the
world will fall with her.' In those ages no man looked forward to
anything greater or better. The idea that 'progress' is the natural
law and condition of the world, is one quite characteristic of modern
times. The ancient notion was that its law was that of decay and
corruption. The utmost that anyone dared to hope was that things might
not change for the worse.
And so far as appears, their judgment was well founded. Man had done
all he could. The Roman Empire exhibited the highest state of society,
which, without some supernatural interference of a higher power in the
affairs of the world, he was able to develope. Viewed in this light,
as the last act of a vast drama which had been going on for ages, it
must ever be most worthy of study. And in truth there was in it very
much that was really great and noble. The impression left on the mind
by ordinary histories, which is little more than a vague idea of mad
and grotesque tyranny on the one side, and abject servitude on the
other, is very far from doing it justice. If, as we know, there has in
fact arisen out of its ashes a new world, on the whole vastly superior
to the old, this is because, by the mercy of his Creator, man has no
longer been left to find his way without light and guidance from on
high; because after having, in the old world, left man to work out to
the end all that he could do by himself, God Himself has been pleased,
in the new world, to stretch out His own right hand and His holy arm,
and to work in man and by him. Here, then, is the striking contrast
between ancient and modern history. The one shows man working without
God, the other God working by man; and man, alas! but too often,
crossing, interfering with, and maiming His work.
But this was not all; for although, while the Empire of Rome still
lasted, the kingdom of God was not as yet visibly set up among men,
yet, almost from its very foundation, the germs of that future kingdom
were working in it. It was under the reign of the first heathen
emperor that the Prince of Peace was born into the world. The grain of
mustard-seed was already sown, and through all the centuries occupied
by the heathen empire it was growing night and day, at first
unobserved by men, in later times forcing itself on their notice,
until it became a tree whose branches overshadowed the whole earth.
There are, then, two subjects which must attract attention in any
worthy description of the Roman Empire; first, the political, social,
moral, and religious condition of the heathen world, both in itself
and in comparison with that of Christian nations, and next the effect
produced on the heathen themselves by the gradual growth and
development of Christianity in the midst of them. The internal history
of Christianity, indeed, belongs in strictness to ecclesiastical
history, but no subject has a more direct claim upon the general
historian than that of its effects upon the political, moral, and
social standard, and upon the religious opinions of those who were not
Christians.
We know, however, no English book which throws light upon either of
these two subjects. Indeed, we doubt whether there is any which ever
attempted to do so. The greatest English writer who has described
those times, was made incapable of it by his hatred of Christianity,
and by his low standard of moral feeling. In our own times, no doubt,
we have had an interesting history of the 'Romans under the Empire'
from a writer whom it would be most unjust to compare to Gibbon; but
this has not been continued so far as the period when Christianity
would have forced itself on the writer's attention. And so far as
appears, his thoughts have not been sufficiently turned to the subject
to lead him to detect its influence, where it is quite as
unquestionable if not as prominent. The result is, that although Mr.
Merivale no doubt fully believes and admits the truth and importance
of Christianity, he has given us a history of the Romans under the
Empire, in which, except in one or two short recognitions of its
truth, there is nothing to remind the reader that the old world was
ignorant of the fact that God had been manifested in the flesh, while
all that is specially worth notice in the new world that has succeeded
it, is founded upon that fact.
Mr. Merivale, of course, would reply to this criticism that he
undertook to relate the history of the Romans as it had been recorded
by Tacitus, Suetonius, Dion, and others; and that if there was nothing
in Christianity which arrested their attention, and which they have
thought worthy of record, there could be nothing which came into his
subject. This, however, implies a total mistake as to the duty of an
historian. He has to tell us, of course, what really happened, and
nothing else. But it is certain that events, in their consequences of
the greatest importance, are often so much undervalued by those who
see them in progress, that they pass them over unmentioned, devoting
their attention to things which at the moment seem more important, but
which after-times see to have been of little interest. It is Arnold's
remark, that Phillip de Comines,[1] whose memoirs 'terminate about
twenty years before the Reformation, and six years after the first
voyage of Columbus,' writes without the least notion of the momentous
character of the times which he was describing. His 'memoirs are
striking, from their perfect unconsciousness. The knell of the middle
ages had already sounded, yet Comines had no other notions than such
as they had tended to foster; he describes their events, their
characters, their relations, as if they were to continue for
centuries.' And he justly blames Barante, because, while fully able to
analyze history philosophically, 'he has chosen, in his history of the
Dukes of Burgundy, to forfeit the benefits of his own wisdom, and has
described the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries no otherwise than
might have been done by their own simple chroniclers.' What else has
Merivale done in describing, for instance, the times of the Antonines
as they appeared to contemporary heathen writers, not as we know them
really to have been, who have the means of estimating the effects even
then produced upon heathen society by the influence of the Christians,
already so numerous in the midst of it, and of comparing them with
periods in the history of many Christian nations in many respects
similar.
In contrast with the deficiencies of histories in our own language, we
would call special attention to the historical works of M. de
Champagny. We have been surprised to find how little they are known in
England, not merely by men of general culture and intelligence, but by
many whose studies have been especially directed to the history of the
Roman Empire. In France they are not only well known, but so highly
appreciated that they have won for their author a seat in the Academy,
the great object of literary ambition; and this, although the tone of
religious earnestness which runs through them, if it did not hinder,
assuredly in no degree tended to promote their popularity. At
different periods during the last forty years, M. de Champagny has
published four works on Roman history, the first two of which we have
placed at the head of this article. None of these works are called by
the author, or are exactly entitled to be called histories. They
contain, indeed, a narrative strictly confined to the facts recorded
by ancient authors, and full of life and interest; yet the narrative
is the least valuable part of the work. They are _études_, a term
which, for want of one more exactly expressing it, we may render
essays. This character pervades even the narrative: but less than half
the three volumes of 'the Cæsars' is narrative even in form. It
contains a 'picture of the Roman Empire,' giving innumerable details,
full of life and reality, of the provinces, the capital, the daily
life of the Romans, their worship, their family and social life, their
morals, their literary habits, their public amusements, and ending
with an account of the Neo-stoic philosophy which filled (so far as it
was filled at all) the place of a religion, as that word is understood
among ourselves. And throughout the whole, the comparison of the old
world and the new is kept in view. We know no work in the English
language, as we have already said, which supplies what we have here.
In 'the Antonines,' the proportion devoted to similar pictures,
especially to the estimate of the indirect influence of Christianity,
is equally large and equally important.
It would be impossible within the limits of an article, to give any
idea of the contents of essays in which our author presents, in the
lucid epigrammatic form peculiar to his country and language, the
results of a life of study and thought. What we specially desire is,
that our readers should consider for themselves whether it is not the
fact, that great as is the proportion of time and attention devoted to
the classics, in English education, the Roman Empire has been far too
much overlooked, especially in comparison with the Republic. For this
it is very easy to account. It is the natural result, not of any love
for a republic, but of that too exclusive love for the writers of the
Augustan age, which has long formed a characteristic feature in the
cultivated Englishman. The historians of the Empire, and even those
who, like Pliny, Seneca, &c., reflect its manners in contemporary
writings not professedly historical, but often of even more historical
value, are wanting in the especial charm which attracts a fastidious
scholar to the earlier history. And hence we greatly doubt whether
ninety out of one hundred boys educated at a classical school do not
practically think of Roman history, as if its interest ended with
Augustus. Before Gibbon turned attention to the 'Decline and Fall of
the Empire' this must have been still more the case. Account for this
as we may, we are sure that it is greatly to be regretted. For,
beautiful as is 'Livy's pictured page,' the state of society which it
presents--(that of a simple people, denizens of a single city,
retaining many of the virtues and faults of a rude age, esteeming
courage in the field as for all citizens the first and most necessary
of virtues, and valuing temperance, a life of labour, &c., chiefly, as
conducing to it)--has so little in common with our daily life and
habits, that the practical lessons impressed upon us are hardly more
than if we read as many pages of the 'Thousand and One Nights.' In
saying this, we by no means desire to discourage the study of writers
whom we heartily love and admire. It is a great thing to store the
mind (especially in the plastic season of youth) with images of
beauty; nor do we believe that the peculiar refinement of taste formed
by such an education is attainable by any other means. The first
decade of Livy, for instance, ranks high in that class of books, at
the top of which stand the 'Iliad' and the 'Odyssey.' Still, history
has an importance of its own, and it seems to us indisputable that the
strictly historical value of later Roman times is (at least in the
present age of the world) far greater than that of the golden age of
the Republic. Allowing for the immense difference between a heathen
and a Christian society, the world ruled by Marcus Aurelius is one in
which we can easily imagine ourselves to be living. We are sure that
no thoughtful man can read many pages of M. de Champagny's works
without finding his mind filled with thoughts and lessons which bear
immediately on the state of society in which our lot is cast. The
evils and corruptions which were undermining the Roman world were, in
many respects, those against which we are called to guard or contend.
Where there is a contrast, it is one which it is well for us to
observe; for it may easily be traced to the special blessings which
the indirect action of Christianity has conferred upon every class of
modern society, even upon those who have, more or less wilfully,
rejected it.
One fact which we think will strike every reader is that the state of
things under the Empire, as compared with that under the Republic, was
far better than ordinary histories would lead us to suppose. They
detail the mad and sanguinary tyranny of Caligula and Nero, but give
us little means of estimating the peace and prosperity which, for more
than two centuries after Augustus, prevailed, almost without
interruption, through the vast extent of his empire. Nothing could be
stronger than the practical appreciation of this by the generations
who lived under it. Pliny speaks of 'the immense majesty of the Roman
peace;' and these words 'Pax Romana' seem to have been almost as much
household words in his day as the phrase 'Our glorious constitution in
Church and State' in those of George III. To say that the heathen
world had never seen anything like it would greatly understate the
fact. There has been nothing like it since, any more than there had
been before. During several centuries, peace reigned almost
uninterrupted through the vast regions which extend from the Euphrates
to the Western shores of France and Portugal, from the slopes of the
Cheviots to the slopes of the Atlas. Passing over the very brief civil
contest which followed the death of Nero, the only exception was the
Jewish rebellion. The regions most favoured by nature of any that
earth holds--those which on every side surround the Mediterranean Sea,
Spain, the South of France, Italy, Greece, Asia Minor, Syria, Egypt,
the Northern coasts of Africa--were full of rich and highly-civilized
cities, which, undisturbed by wars or rumours of wars, freely
exchanged the productions of their various climates and their
different industries. Many of them, among which we may name Athens,
Alexandria, and Carthage, were the chosen seats of learning and
philosophy. Men thought little of crossing the sea one way or the
other between Africa and Italy, France or Spain, as they might be
tempted by facilities for study or business, or even by curiosity.
When all formed part of one great empire, trade had no impediments
from laws of protection, or from the jealousy of rival nations or
governments.
Neither must it be supposed that the peace which afforded these
advantages was purchased at the cost of subjection to a great military
tyranny. Nothing is more remarkable, yet nothing more certain, than
the fact that Rome, which made herself mistress of the world by
military force, ruled and maintained her dominion over the world she
had conquered, by the superiority of her purely civil administration.
Throughout these immense regions, the Roman military establishment
consisted, under Tiberius, of between 160,000 and 180,000 men under
arms; and even these were not kept in the great cities or the interior
of the provinces to preserve order. They were stationed on the
frontiers, to guard the unarmed population of those huge countries
from the predatory invasions of the surrounding barbarians. Four
legions kept watch on the Euphrates, three (or perhaps five) on the
Danube, eight on the Rhine, and three on the Northern border of the
British province. In the whole interior of Gaul, that is to say, in
the districts which are now France, Belgium, and Germany west of the
Rhine, there were (see 'Les Césars,' vol. ii. 304) only 1,200 men
under arms. The naval force, which maintained the peace of the
Mediterranean, checking the plague of piracy which had been so
prevalent in earlier times, as it has been almost to the present day,
consisted of three fleets, stationed at Ravenna, at Misenum, and at
Forum Julii (now Frejus); the three together consisted of 15,000 men.
There were also twenty-four vessels employed in the defence of the
Rhine, and as many on the Danube. Italy and Spain were without
soldiers, except about 9,000 pretorians in the immediate neighbourhood
of Rome. Asia Minor, abounding in wealth and population, with princely
cities enjoying the civilization of a thousand years and all the
treasures of art and industry in undisturbed repose, was administered
by unarmed governors. 'Beyond the Black Sea there were 3,000 men to
guard that inhospitable coast, and retain in obedience to Rome the
kings of the Bosphorus. The other kings were responsible to Rome for
the tranquillity of their kingdoms, and exercised the police over them
at their own cost, with the aid of such troops as Rome permitted them
to levy.'