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diff --git a/3821-h/3821-h.htm b/3821-h/3821-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..daf7c6e --- /dev/null +++ b/3821-h/3821-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10287 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>The Roman and the Teuton</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + H1, H2 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + } + H3, H4, H5 { + text-align: left; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + table { border-collapse: collapse; } + td { vertical-align: top; border: 1px solid black;} + td p { margin: 0.2em; } + .blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */ + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .pagenum {position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + color: gray;} + + .citation {vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h2> +<a href="#startoftext">The Roman and the Teuton, by Charles Kingsley</a> +</h2> +<pre> +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Roman and the Teuton, by Charles +Kingsley, Edited by F. Max Muller + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Roman and the Teuton + A Series of Lectures delivered before the University of Cambridge + + +Author: Charles Kingsley + +Editor: F. Max Muller + +Release Date: October 4, 2007 [eBook #3821] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ROMAN AND THE TEUTON*** +</pre> +<p><a name="startoftext"></a></p> +<p>Transcribed from the 1889 Macmillan and Co. edition by David +Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org</p> +<h1>THE ROMAN AND THE TEUTON</h1> +<p style="text-align: center">A SERIES OF LECTURES</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">delivered +before</span></p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>THE UNIVERSITY OF +CAMBRIDGE</i></p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">by</span><br /> +CHARLES KINGSLEY, M.A.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap"><i>new +edition</i></span>, <span class="smcap"><i>with +preface</i></span>, <span class="smcap"><i>by</i></span><br /> +PROFESSOR F. MAX MÜLLER</p> +<p style="text-align: center">London<br /> +MACMILLAN AND CO.<br /> +1889</p> +<p style="text-align: center">[<i>All rights reserved</i>]</p> +<p style="text-align: center">OXFORD:<br /> +<span class="smcap">horace hart</span>, <span +class="smcap">printer to the university</span>.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">DEDICATED<br /> +<span class="smcap">to</span><br /> +The Gentlemen of the University<br /> +<span class="smcap">who did me the honour</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">to attend these lectures</span>.</p> +<p>Contents</p> +<p>Preface by Professor F. Max Müller<br /> + The Forest Children<br /> + The Dying Empire<br /> + Preface to Lecture III<br /> + The Human Deluge<br /> + The Gothic Civilizer<br /> + Dietrich’s End<br /> + The Nemesis of the Goths<br /> + Paulus Diaconus<br /> + The Clergy and the Heathen<br /> + The Monk a Civilizer<br /> + The Lombard Laws<br /> + The Popes and the Lombards<br /> + The Strategy of Prividence<br /> + Appendix—Inaugural Lecture: The Limits of +Exact Science as Applied to History</p> +<h2>PREFACE</h2> +<p>Never shall I forget the moment when for the last time I gazed +upon the manly features of Charles Kingsley, features which Death +had rendered calm, grand, sublime. The constant struggle +that in life seemed to allow no rest to his expression, the +spirit, like a caged lion, shaking the bars of his prison, the +mind striving for utterance, the soul wearying for loving +response,—all that was over. There remained only the +satisfied expression of triumph and peace, as of a soldier who +had fought a good fight, and who, while sinking into the +stillness of the slumber of death, listens to the distant sounds +of music and to the shouts of victory. One saw the ideal +man, as Nature had meant him to be, and one felt that there is no +greater sculptor than Death.</p> +<p>As one looked on that marble statue which only some weeks ago +had so warmly pressed one’s hand, his whole life flashed +through one’s thoughts. One remembered the young +curate and the Saint’s Tragedy; the chartist parson and +Alton Locke; the happy poet and the Sands of Dee; the brilliant +novel-writer and Hypatia and Westward-Ho; the Rector of Eversley +and his Village Sermons; the beloved professor at Cambridge, the +busy canon at Chester, the powerful preacher in Westminster +Abbey. One thought of him by the Berkshire chalk-streams +and on the Devonshire coast, watching the beauty and wisdom of +Nature, reading her solemn lessons, chuckling too over her +inimitable fun. One saw him in town-alleys, preaching the +Gospel of godliness and cleanliness, while smoking his pipe with +soldiers and navvies. One heard him in drawing-rooms, +listened to with patient silence, till one of his vigorous or +quaint speeches bounded forth, never to be forgotten. How +children delighted in him! How young, wild men believed in +him, and obeyed him too! How women were captivated by his +chivalry, older men by his genuine humility and sympathy!</p> +<p>All that was now passing away—was gone. But as one +looked on him for the last time on earth, one felt that greater +than the curate, the poet, the professor, the canon, had been the +man himself, with his warm heart, his honest purposes, his trust +in his friends, his readiness to spend himself, his chivalry and +humility, worthy of a better age.</p> +<p>Of all this the world knew little;—yet few men excited +wider and stronger sympathies.</p> +<p>Who can forget that funeral on the 28th Jan., 1875, and the +large sad throng that gathered round his grave? There was +the representative of the Prince of Wales, and close by the +gipsies of the Eversley common, who used to call him their +Patrico-rai, their Priest-King. There was the old Squire of +his village, and the labourers, young and old, to whom he had +been a friend and a father. There were Governors of distant +Colonies, officers, and sailors, the Bishop of his diocese, and +the Dean of his abbey; there were the leading Nonconformists of +the neighbourhood, and his own devoted curates, Peers and Members +of the House of Commons, authors and publishers; and outside the +church-yard, the horses and the hounds and the huntsman in pink, +for though as good a clergyman as any, Charles Kingsley had been +a good sportsman too, and had taken in his life many a fence as +bravely as he took the last fence of all, without fear or +trembling. All that he had loved, and all that had loved +him was there, and few eyes were dry when he was laid in his own +yellow gravel bed, the old trees which he had planted and cared +for waving their branches to him for the last time, and the grey +sunny sky looking down with calm pity on the deserted rectory, +and on the short joys and the shorter sufferings of mortal +men.</p> +<p>All went home feeling that life was poorer, and every one knew +that he had lost a friend who had been, in some peculiar sense, +his own. Charles Kingsley will be missed in England, in the +English colonies, in America, where he spent his last happy year; +aye, wherever Saxon speech and Saxon thought is understood. +He will be mourned for, yearned for, in every place in which he +passed some days of his busy life. As to myself, I feel as +if another cable had snapped that tied me to this hospitable +shore.</p> +<p>When an author or a poet dies, the better part of him, it is +often said, is left in his works. So it is in many +cases. But with Kingsley his life and his works were +one. All he wrote was meant for the day when he wrote +it. That was enough for him. He hardly gave himself +time to think of fame and the future. Compared with a good +work done, with a good word spoken, with a silent grasp of the +hand from a young man he had saved from mischief, or with a +‘Thank you, Sir,’ from a poor woman to whom he had +been a comfort, he would have despised what people call glory, +like incense curling away in smoke. He was, in one sense of +the word, a careless writer. He did his best at the time +and for the time. He did it with a concentrated energy of +will which broke through all difficulties. In his flights +of imagination, in the light and fire of his language he had few +equals, if any; but the perfection and classical finish which can +be obtained by a sustained effort only, and by a patience which +shrinks from no drudgery, these are wanting in most of his +works.</p> +<p>However, fame, for which he cared so little, has come to +him. His bust will stand in Westminster Abbey, in the +Chapel of St. John the Baptist, by the side of his friend, +Frederick Maurice; and in the Temple of Fame which will be +consecrated to the period of Victoria and Albert, there will be a +niche for Charles Kingsley, the author of Alton Locke and +Hypatia.</p> +<p>Sooner or later a complete edition of his works will be +wanted, though we may doubt whether he himself would have wished +all his literary works to be preserved. From what I knew of +him and his marvellous modesty, I should say decidedly not. +I doubt more especially, whether he would have wished the present +book, <i>The Roman and the Teuton</i>, to be handed down to +posterity. None of his books was so severely criticised as +this volume of Lectures, delivered before the University of +Cambridge, and published in 1864. He himself did not +republish it, and it seems impossible to speak in more +depreciatory terms of his own historical studies than he does +himself again and again in the course of his lectures. Yet +these lectures, it should be remembered, were more largely +attended than almost any other lectures at Cambridge. They +produced a permanent impression on many a young mind. They +are asked for again and again, and when the publishers wished for +my advice as to the expediency of bringing out a new and cheaper +edition, I could not hesitate as to what answer to give.</p> +<p>I am not so blinded by my friendship for Kingsley as to say +that these lectures are throughout what academical lectures ought +to be. I only wish some one would tell me what academical +lectures at Oxford and Cambridge can be, as long as the present +system of teaching and examining is maintained. It is easy +to say what these lectures are not. They do not profess to +contain the results of long continued original research. +They are not based on a critical appreciation of the authorities +which had to be consulted. They are not well arranged, +systematic or complete. All this the suddenly elected +professor of history at Cambridge would have been the first to +grant. ‘I am not here,’ he says, ‘to +teach you history. I am here to teach you how to teach +yourselves history.’ I must say even more. It +seems to me that these lectures were not always written in a +perfectly impartial and judicial spirit, and that occasionally +they are unjust to the historians who, from no other motive but a +sincere regard for truth, thought it their duty to withhold their +assent from many of the commonly received statements of mediaeval +chroniclers.</p> +<p>But for all that, let us see what these Lectures are, and +whether there is not room for them by the side of other +works. First of all, according to the unanimous testimony +of those who heard them delivered at Cambridge, they stirred up +the interest of young men, and made them ask for books which +Undergraduates had never asked for before at the University +libraries. They made many people who read them afterwards, +take a new interest in old and half-forgotten kings and battles, +and they extorted even from unfriendly critics the admission that +certain chapters, such as, for instance, ‘The Monk as a +Civiliser,’ displayed in an unexpected way his power of +appreciating the good points in characters, otherwise most +antipathic to the apostle of Manly Christianity. They +contain, in fact, the thoughts of a poet, a moralist, a +politician, a theologian, and, before all, of a friend and +counsellor of young men, while reading for them and with them one +of the most awful periods in the history of mankind, the agonies +of a dying Empire and the birth of new nationalities. +History was but his text, his chief aim was that of the teacher +and preacher, and as an eloquent interpreter of the purposes of +history before an audience of young men to whom history is but +too often a mere succession of events to be learnt by heart, and +to be ready against periodical examinations, he achieved what he +wished to achieve. Historians by profession would naturally +be incensed at some portions of this book, but even they would +probably admit by this time, that there are in it whole chapters +full of excellence, telling passages, happy delineations, shrewd +remarks, powerful outbreaks of real eloquence, which could not +possibly be consigned to oblivion.</p> +<p>Nor would it have been possible to attempt to introduce any +alterations, or to correct what may seem to be mistakes. +The book is not meant as a text-book or as an authority, any more +than Schiller’s History of the Thirty Years’ War; it +should be read in future, as what it was meant to be from the +first, Kingsley’s thoughts on some of the moral problems +presented by the conflict between the Roman and the Teuton. +One cannot help wishing that, instead of lectures, Kingsley had +given us another novel, like Hypatia, or a real historical +tragedy, a Dietrich von Bern, embodying in living characters one +of the fiercest struggles of humanity, the death of the Roman, +the birth of the German world. Let me quote here what +Bunsen said of Kingsley’s dramatic power many years +ago:</p> +<p>‘I do not hesitate (he writes) to call these two works, +the <i>Saint’s Tragedy</i> and <i>Hypatia</i>, by far the +most important and perfect of this genial writer. In these +more particularly I find the justification of a hope which I beg +to be allowed to express—that Kingsley might continue +Shakspeare’s historical plays. I have for several +years made no secret of it, that Kingsley seems to me the genius +of our century, called to place by the side of that sublime +dramatic series from <i>King John</i> to <i>Henry VIII</i>, +another series of equal rank, from <i>Edward VI</i> to the +<i>Landing of William of Orange</i>. This is the only +historical development of Europe which unites in itself all vital +elements, and which we might look upon without overpowering +pain. The tragedy of <i>St. Elizabeth</i> shows that +Kingsley can grapple, not only with the novel, but with the more +severe rules of dramatic art. And <i>Hypatia</i> proves, on +the largest scale, that he can discover in the picture of the +historical past, the truly human, the deep, the permanent, and +that he knows how to represent it. How, with all this, he +can hit the fresh tone of popular life, and draw humourous +characters and complications with Shakspearian energy, is proved +by all his works. And why should he not undertake this +great task? There is a time when the true poet, the prophet +of the present, must bid farewell to the questions of the day, +which seem so great because they are so near, but are, in truth, +but small and unpoetical. He must say to himself, +“Let the dead bury their dead”—and the time has +come that Kingsley should do so.’</p> +<p>A great deal has been written on mistakes which Kingsley was +supposed to have made in these Lectures, but I doubt whether +these criticisms were always perfectly judicial and fair. +For instance, Kingsley’s using the name of Dietrich, +instead of Theodoric, was represented as the very gem of a +blunder, and some critics went so far as to hint that he had +taken Theodoric for a Greek word, as an adjective of +Theodorus. This, of course, was only meant as a joke, for +on page 120 Kingsley had said, in a note, that the name of +<i>Theodoric</i>, <i>Theuderic</i>, <i>Dietrich</i>, signifies +‘king of nations.’ He therefore knew perfectly +well that <i>Theodoric</i> was simply a Greek adaptation of the +Gothic name <i>Theode-reiks</i>, <i>theod</i> meaning people, +<i>reiks</i>, according to Grimm, <i>princeps</i> <a +name="citation1"></a><a href="#footnote1" +class="citation">[1]</a>. But even if he had called the +king Theodorus, the mistake would not have been unpardonable, for +he might have appealed to the authority of Gregory of Tours, who +uses not only Theodoricus, but also Theodorus, as the same +name.</p> +<p>A more serious charge, however, was brought against him for +having used the High-German form <i>Dietrich</i>, instead of the +original form <i>Theodereiks</i> or <i>Theoderic</i>, or even +<i>Theodoric</i>. Should I have altered this? I +believe not; for it is clear to me that Kingsley had his good +reasons for preferring Dietrich to Theodoric.</p> +<p>He introduces him first to his hearers as ‘Theodoric, +known in German song as Dietrich of Bern.’ He had +spoken before of the Visi-Gothic Theodoric, and of him he never +speaks as Dietrich. Then, why should he have adopted this +High-German name for the great Theodoric, and why should he speak +of Attila too as Etzel?</p> +<p>One of the greatest of German historians, Johannes von +Müller, does the same. He always calls Theodoric, +Dietrich of Bern; and though he gives no reasons for it, his +reasons can easily be guessed. Soon after Theodoric’s +death, the influence of the German legends on history, and of +history on the German legends, became so great that it was +impossible for a time to disentangle two characters, originally +totally distinct, viz. <i>Thjóđrekr</i> of the Edda, +the <i>Dietrich</i> of the German poetry on one side, and the +King of the Goths, <i>Theodoric</i>, on the other. What had +long been said and sung about Thjóđrekr and Dietrich +was believed to have happened to King Theodoric, while at the +same time historical and local elements in the life of Theodoric, +residing at Verona, were absorbed by the legends of +Thjóđrekr and Dietrich. The names of the +legendary hero and the historical king were probably identical, +though even that is not quite certain <a name="citation2"></a><a +href="#footnote2" class="citation">[2]</a>; but at all events, +after Theodoric’s death, all the numerous dialectic +varieties of the name, whether in High or in Low-German, were +understood by the people at large, both of the hero and of the +king.</p> +<p>Few names have had a larger number of alias’. They +have been carefully collected by Graff, Grimm, Förstemann, +Pott, and others. I here give the principal varieties of +this name, as actually occurring in MSS., and arranged according +to the changes of the principal consonants:—</p> +<p>(1) With <i>Th-d</i>: Theudoricus, Theudericus, +Θευδέριχος, + +Θεοδέριχος, +Thiodiricus, Thiodericus, Thiodric, Thiodricus, Thiodrih, +Theodoricus, Theodericus, Theoderic, Theodrich, Thiadric, +Thiadrich, Thiedorik, Thiederic, Thiederik, Thiederich, +Thiedorich, Thiedric, Thiedrich, Thideric, Thiederich, Thidrich, +Thodericus, Thiaedric, Thieoderich, Thederich, Thedric.</p> +<p>(2) With <i>T-d</i>: Teudericus, Teudricus, Tiodericus, +Teodoricus, Teodericus, Teodric, Teodrich, Tiadric, Tiedrik, +Tiedrich, Tiedric, Tidericus, Tiderich, Tederich.</p> +<p>(3) With <i>D-d</i>: +Δειδοριξ, +Diodericus, Deoderich, Deodrich, Diederich, Diderich.</p> +<p>(4) With <i>Th-t</i>: Thiotiricus, Thiotirih, +Thiotiricus, Thiotrih, Theotoricus, Theotericus, Theoterih, +Theotrih, Theotrich, Thiatric, Thieterich, Thietrih, Thietrich, +Theatrih.</p> +<p>(5) With <i>T-t</i>: Teutrich, Teoterih, Teotrich, +Teotrih, Tieterich, Teatrih, Tiheiterich.</p> +<p>(6) With <i>D-t</i>: Dioterih, Diotericus, Diotricus, +Deotrich, Deotrih, Dieterih, Dieterich, Dietrich, Diterih, +Ditricus.</p> +<p>(7) With <i>Th-th</i>: Theotherich, Theothirich.</p> +<p>(8) With <i>T-th</i>: <i>deest</i>.</p> +<p>(9) With <i>D-th</i>: Dietherich.</p> +<p>It is quite true that, strictly speaking, the forms with Th-d, +are Low-German, and those with D-t, High-German, but before we +trust ourselves to this division for historical purposes, we must +remember three facts: (1) that Proper Names frequently defy +Grimm’s Law; (2) that in High-German MSS. much depends on +the locality in which they are written; (3) that High-German is +not in the strict sense of the word a corruption of Low-German, +and, at all events, not, as Grimm supposed, chronologically +posterior to Low-German, but that the two are parallel dialects, +like Doric and Aeolic, the Low-German being represented by the +earliest literary documents, Gothic and Saxon, the High-German +asserting its literary presence later, not much before the eighth +century, but afterwards maintaining its literary and political +supremacy from the time of Charlemagne to the present day.</p> +<p>When Theodoric married Odeflede, the daughter of Childebert, +and a sister of Chlodwig, I have little doubt that, at the court +of Chlodwig or Clovis, his royal brother-in-law was spoken of in +conversation as Dioterih, although in official documents, and in +the history of Gregory of Tours, he appears under his classical +name of Theodoricus, in Jornandes Theodericus. Those who, +with Grimm <a name="citation3"></a><a href="#footnote3" +class="citation">[3]</a>, admit a transition of Low into +High-German, and deny that the change of Gothic <i>Th</i> into +High-German <i>D</i> took place before the sixth or seventh +century, will find it difficult to account, in the first century, +for the name of Deudorix, a German captive, the nephew of Melo +the Sigambrian, mentioned by Strabo <a name="citation4"></a><a +href="#footnote4" class="citation">[4]</a>. In the oldest +German poem in which the name of Dietrich occurs, the song of +Hildebrand and Hadebrand, written down in the beginning of the +ninth century <a name="citation5"></a><a href="#footnote5" +class="citation">[5]</a>, we find both forms, the Low-German +<i>Theotrîh</i>, and the High-German <i>Deotrîh</i>, +used side by side.</p> +<p>Very soon, however, when High-German became the more prevalent +language in Germany, German historians knew both of the old +legendary hero and of the Ost-gothic king, by one and the same +name, the High-German <i>Dietrich</i>.</p> +<p>If therefore Johannes von Müller spoke of Theodoric of +Verona as Dietrich von Bern, he simply intended to carry on the +historical tradition. He meant to remind his readers of the +popular name which they all knew, and to tell them,—This +Dietrich with whom you are all acquainted from your childhood, +this Dietrich of whom so much is said and sung in your legendary +stories and poems, the famous Dietrich of Bern, this is really +the Theoderic, the first German who ruled Italy for thirty-three +years, more gloriously than any Roman Emperor before or +after. I see no harm in this, as long as it is done on +purpose, and as long as the purpose which Johannes von +Müller had in his mind, was attained.</p> +<p>No doubt the best plan for an historian to follow is to call +every man by the name by which he called himself. +Theodoric, we know, could not write, but he had a gold plate <a +name="citation6"></a><a href="#footnote6" +class="citation">[6]</a> made in which the first four letters of +his name were incised, and when it was fixed on the paper, the +King drew his pen through the intervals. Those four letters +were ΘΕΟΔ, and though we should +expect that, as a Goth, he would have spelt his name +<i>Thiudereik</i>, yet we have no right to doubt, that the vowels +were <i>eo</i>, and not <i>iu</i>. But again and again +historians spell proper names, not as they were written by the +people themselves, but as they appear in the historical documents +through which they became chiefly known. We speak of Plato, +because we have Roman literature between us and Greece. +American names are accepted in history through a Spanish, Indian +names through an English medium. The strictly Old +High-German form of Carolus Magnus would be Charal, A. S. Carl; +yet even in the Oaths of Strassburg (842) the name appears as +Karlus and as Karl, and has remained so ever since <a +name="citation7"></a><a href="#footnote7" +class="citation">[7]</a>. In the same document we find +Ludher for Lothar, Ludhuwig and Lodhuvig for Ludovicus, the +oldest form being Chlodowich: and who would lay down the law, +which of these forms shall be used for historical purposes?</p> +<p>I have little doubt that Kingsley’s object in retaining +the name Dietrich for the Ost-gothic king was much the same as +Johannes von Müller’s. You know, he meant to +say, of Dietrich of Bern, of all the wonderful things told of him +in the Nibelunge and other German poems. Well, that is the +Dietrich of the German people, that is what the Germans +themselves have made of him, by transferring to their great +Gothic king some of the most incredible achievements of one of +their oldest legendary heroes. They have changed even his +name, and as the children in the schools of Germany <a +name="citation8"></a><a href="#footnote8" +class="citation">[8]</a> still speak of him as their Dietrich von +Bern, let him be to us too Dietrich, not simply the Ost-gothic +Theoderic, but the German Dietrich.</p> +<p>I confess I see no harm in that, though a few words on the +strange mixture of legend and history might have been useful, +because the case of Theodoric is one of the most luculent +testimonies for that blending of fact and fancy in strictly +historical times which people find it so difficult to believe, +but which offers the key, and the only true key, for many of the +most perplexing problems, both of history and of mythology.</p> +<p>Originally nothing could be more different than the Dietrich +of the old legend and the Dietrich of history. The former +is followed by misfortune through the whole of his life. He +is oppressed in his youth by his uncle, the famous Ermanrich <a +name="citation9"></a><a href="#footnote9" +class="citation">[9]</a>; he has to spend the greater part of his +life (thirty years) in exile, and only returns to his kingdom +after the death of his enemy. Yet whenever he is called +Dietrich of Bern, it is because the real Theodoric, the most +successful of Gothic conquerors, ruled at Verona. When his +enemy was called Otacher, instead of Sibich, it is because the +real Theodoric conquered the real Odoacer. When the king, +at whose court he passes his years of exile, is called Etzel, it +is because many German heroes had really taken refuge in the camp +of Attila. That Attila died two years before Theodoric of +Verona was born, is no difficulty to a popular poet, nor even the +still more glaring contradiction between the daring and ferocious +character of the real Attila and the cowardice of his namesake +Etzel, as represented in the poem of the Nibelunge. Thus +was legend quickened by history.</p> +<p>On the other hand, if historians, such as Gregory I (Dial. iv. +36) <a name="citation10"></a><a href="#footnote10" +class="citation">[10]</a>, tell us that an Italian hermit had +been witness in a vision to the damnation of Theodoric, whose +soul was plunged, by the ministers of divine vengeance, into the +volcano of Lipari, one of the flaming mouths of the infernal +world, we may recognise in the heated imagination of the orthodox +monk some recollection of the mysterious end of the legendary +Dietrich <a name="citation11"></a><a href="#footnote11" +class="citation">[11]</a>. Later on, the legendary and the +real hero were so firmly welded together that, as early as the +twelfth century, chroniclers are at their wits’ end how to +reconcile facts and dates.</p> +<p>Ekkehard, in his Chronicon Universale <a +name="citation12"></a><a href="#footnote12" +class="citation">[12]</a>, which ends 1126 A.D., points out the +chronological contradiction between Jornandes, who places the +death of Ermanrich long before Attila, and the popular story +which makes him and Dietrich, the son of Dietmar, his +contemporaries.</p> +<p>Otto von Freising <a name="citation13"></a><a +href="#footnote13" class="citation">[13]</a>, in the first half +of the twelfth century, expresses the same perplexity when he +finds that Theodoric is made a contemporary of Hermanricus and +Attila, though it is certain that Attila ruled long after +Hermanric, and that, after the death of Attila, Theodoric, when +eight years old, was given by his father as a hostage to the +emperor Leo.</p> +<p>Gottfried von Viterbo <a name="citation14"></a><a +href="#footnote14" class="citation">[14]</a>, in the second half +of the twelfth century, expresses his difficulties in similar +words.</p> +<p>All these chroniclers who handed down the historical +traditions of Germany were High-Germans, and thus it has happened +that in Germany Theodoric the Great became Dietrich, as +Strataburgum became Strassburg, or Turicum, Zürich. +Whether because English belongs to the Low German branch, it is +less permissible to an English historian than to a German to +adopt these High-German names, I cannot say: all I wished to +point out was that there was a very intelligible reason why +Kingsley should have preferred the popular and poetical name of +Dietrich, even though it was High-German, either to his real +Gothic name, Theodereik, or to its classical metamorphosis, +Theodoricus or Theodorus.</p> +<p>Some other mistakes, too, which have been pointed out, did not +seem to me so serious as to justify their correction in a +posthumous edition. It was said, for instance, that +Kingsley ought not to have called Odoacer and Theodoric, Kings of +Italy, as they were only lieutenants of the Eastern Caesar. +Cassiodorus, however, tells us that Odoacer assumed the name of +king (nomen regis Odoacer assumpsit), and though Gibbon points +out that this may only mean that he assumed the abstract title of +a king, without applying it to any particular nation or country, +yet that great historian himself calls Odoacer, King of Italy, +and shows how he was determined to abolish the useless and +expensive office of vicegerent of the emperor. Kingsley +guesses very ingeniously, that Odoacer’s assumed title, +King of nations, may have been the Gothic <i>Theode-reiks</i>, +the very name of Theodoric. As to Theodoric himself, +Kingsley surely knew his real status, for he says: ‘Why did +he not set himself up as Caesar of Rome? Why did he always +consider himself as son-in-arms, and quasi-vassal of the Caesar +of Constantinople?’</p> +<p>Lastly, in speaking of the extinction of the Western Empire +with Romulus Augustulus, Kingsley again simply followed the lead +of Gibbon and other historians; nor can it be said that the +expression is not perfectly legitimate, however clearly modern +research may have shown that the Roman Empire, though dead, +lived.</p> +<p>So much in defence, or at all events, in explanation, of +expressions and statements which have been pointed out as most +glaring mistakes in Kingsley’s lectures. I think it +must be clear that in all these cases alterations would have been +impossible. There were other passages, where I should +gladly have altered or struck out whole lines, particularly in +the ethnological passages, and in the attempted etymologies of +German proper names. Neither the one nor the other, I +believe, are Kingsley’s own, though I have tried in vain to +find out whence he could possibly have taken them.</p> +<p>These, however, are minor matters which are mentioned chiefly +in order to guard against the impression that, because I left +them unchanged, I approved of them. The permanent interest +attaching to these lectures does not spring from the facts which +they give. For these, students will refer to Gibbon. +They will be valued chiefly for the thoughts which they contain, +for the imagination and eloquence which they display, and last, +not least, for the sake of the man, a man, it is true, of a warm +heart rather than of a cold judgment, but a man whom, for that +very reason, many admired, many loved, and many will miss, almost +every day of their life.</p> +<p>M. M.</p> +<h2>LECTURE I—THE FOREST CHILDREN.</h2> +<p>I wish in this first lecture to give you some general +conception of the causes which urged our Teutonic race to attack +and destroy Rome. I shall take for this one lecture no +special text-book: but suppose you all to be acquainted with the +Germania of Tacitus, and with the 9th Chapter of Gibbon. +And I shall begin, if you will allow me, by a parable, a myth, a +saga, such as the men of whom I am going to tell you loved; and +if it seem to any of you childish, bear in mind that what is +childish need not therefore be shallow. I know that it is +not history. These lectures will not be, in the popular +sense, history at all. But I beg you to bear in mind that I +am not here to teach you history. No man can do that. +I am here to teach you how to teach yourselves history. I +will give you the scaffolding as well as I can; you must build +the house.</p> +<p>Fancy to yourself a great Troll-garden, such as our +forefathers dreamed of often fifteen hundred years ago;—a +fairy palace, with a fairy garden; and all around the +primæval wood. Inside the Trolls dwell, cunning and +wicked, watching their fairy treasures, working at their magic +forges, making and making always things rare and strange; and +outside, the forest is full of children; such children as the +world had never seen before, but children still: children in +frankness, and purity, and affectionateness, and tenderness of +conscience, and devout awe of the unseen; and children too in +fancy, and silliness, and ignorance, and caprice, and jealousy, +and quarrelsomeness, and love of excitement and adventure, and +the mere sport of overflowing animal health. They play +unharmed among the forest beasts, and conquer them in their play; +but the forest is too dull and too poor for them; and they wander +to the walls of the Troll-garden, and wonder what is +inside. One can conceive easily for oneself what from that +moment would begin to happen. Some of the more adventurous +clamber in. Some, too, the Trolls steal and carry off into +their palace. Most never return: but here and there one +escapes out again, and tells how the Trolls killed all his +comrades: but tells too, of the wonders he has seen inside, of +shoes of swiftness, and swords of sharpness, and caps of +darkness; of charmed harps, charmed jewels, and above all of the +charmed wine: and after all, the Trolls were very kind to +him—see what fine clothes they have given him—and he +struts about awhile among his companions; and then returns, and +not alone. The Trolls have bewitched him, as they will +bewitch more. So the fame of the Troll-garden spreads; and +more and more steal in, boys and maidens, and tempt their +comrades over the wall, and tell of the jewels, and the dresses, +and the wine, the joyous maddening wine, which equals men with +gods; and forget to tell how the Trolls have bought them, soul as +well as body, and taught them to be vain, and lustful, and +slavish; and tempted them, too often, to sins which have no +name.</p> +<p>But their better nature flashes out at times. They will +not be the slaves and brutes in human form, which the evil Trolls +would have them; and they rebel, and escape, and tell of the +horrors of that fair foul place. And then arises a noble +indignation, and war between the Trolls and the +forest-children. But still the Trolls can tempt and bribe +the greedier or the more vain; and still the wonders inside haunt +their minds; till it becomes a fixed idea among them all, to +conquer the garden for themselves and bedizen themselves in the +fine clothes, and drink their fill of the wine. Again and +again they break in: but the Trolls drive them out, rebuild their +walls, keep off those outside by those whom they hold enslaved +within; till the boys grow to be youths, and the youths men: and +still the Troll-garden is not conquered, and still it shall +be. And the Trolls have grown old and weak, and their walls +are crumbling away. Perhaps they may succeed this +time—perhaps next.</p> +<p>And at last they do succeed—the fairy walls are +breached, the fairy palace stormed—and the Trolls are +crouching at their feet, and now all will be theirs, gold, +jewels, dresses, arms, all that the Troll possesses—except +his cunning.</p> +<p>For as each struggles into the charmed ground, the spell of +the place falls on him. He drinks the wine, and it maddens +him. He fills his arms with precious trumpery, and another +snatches it from his grasp. Each envies the youth before +him, each cries—Why had I not the luck to enter +first? And the Trolls set them against each other, and +split them into parties, each mad with excitement, and jealousy, +and wine, till, they scarce know how, each falls upon his fellow, +and all upon those who are crowding in from the forest, and they +fight and fight, up and down the palace halls, till their triumph +has become a very feast of the Lapithæ, and the Trolls look +on, and laugh a wicked laugh, as they tar them on to the +unnatural fight, till the gardens are all trampled, the finery +torn, the halls dismantled, and each pavement slippery with +brothers’ blood. And then, when the wine is gone out +of them, the survivors come to their senses, and stare shamefully +and sadly round. What an ugly, desolate, tottering ruin the +fairy palace has become! Have they spoilt it themselves? or +have the Trolls bewitched it? And all the fairy +treasure—what has become of it? no man knows. Have +they thrown it away in their quarrel? have the cunningest hidden +it? have the Trolls flown away with it, to the fairy land beyond +the Eastern mountains? who can tell? Nothing is left but +recrimination and remorse. And they wander back again into +the forest, away from the doleful ruin, carrion-strewn, to sulk +each apart over some petty spoil which he has saved from the +general wreck, hating and dreading each the sound of his +neighbour’s footstep.</p> +<p>What will become of the forest children, unless some kind +saint or hermit comes among them, to bind them in the holy bonds +of brotherhood and law?</p> +<p>This is my saga, gentlemen; and it is a true one withal. +For it is neither more nor less than the story of the Teutonic +tribes, and how they overthrew the Empire of Rome.</p> +<p>Menzel, who though he may not rank very high as a historian, +has at least a true German heart, opens his history with a +striking passage.</p> +<p>‘The sages of the East were teaching wisdom beneath the +palms; the merchants of Tyre and Carthage were weighing their +heavy anchors, and spreading their purple sails for far seas; the +Greek was making the earth fair by his art, and the Roman +founding his colossal empire of force, while the Teuton sat, yet +a child, unknown and naked among the forest beasts: and yet +unharmed and in his sport he lorded it over them; for the child +was of a royal race, and destined to win glory for all time to +come.’</p> +<p>To the strange and complicated education which God appointed +for this race; and by which he has fitted it to become, at least +for many centuries henceforth, the ruling race of the world, I +wish to call your attention in my future lectures. To-day, +I wish to impress strongly on your minds this childishness of our +forefathers. For good or for evil they were great boys; +very noble boys; very often very naughty boys—as boys with +the strength of men might well be. Try to conceive such to +yourselves, and you have the old Markman, Allman, Goth, Lombard, +Saxon, Frank. And the notion may be more than a mere +metaphor. Races, like individuals, it has been often said, +may have their childhood, their youth, their manhood, their old +age, and natural death. It is but a theory—perhaps +nothing more. But at least, our race had its +childhood. Their virtues, and their sad failings, and +failures, I can understand on no other theory. The nearest +type which we can see now is I fancy, the English sailor, or the +English navvy. A great, simple, honest, baby—full of +power and fun, very coarse and plain spoken at times: but if +treated like a human being, most affectionate, susceptible, even +sentimental and superstitious; fond of gambling, brute +excitement, childish amusements in the intervals of enormous +exertion; quarrelsome among themselves, as boys are, and with a +spirit of wild independence which seems to be strength; but +which, till it be disciplined into loyal obedience and +self-sacrifice, is mere weakness; and beneath all a deep +practical shrewdness, an indomitable perseverance, when once +roused by need. Such a spirit as we see to this day in the +English sailor—that is the nearest analogue I can find +now. One gets hints here and there of what manner of men +they were, from the evil day, when, one hundred and two years +before Christ, the Kempers and Teutons, ranging over the Alps +toward Italy, 300,000 armed men and 15,000 mailed knights with +broad sword and lances, and in their helmets the same +bulls’-horns, wings, and feathers, which one sees now in +the crests of German princes, stumbled upon Marius and his +Romans, and were destroyed utterly, first the men, then the +women, who like true women as they were, rather than give up +their honour to the Romans, hung themselves on the horns of the +waggon-oxen, and were trampled to death beneath their feet; and +then the very dogs, who fought on when men and women were all +slain—from that fatal day, down to the glorious one, when, +five hundred years after, Alaric stood beneath the walls of Rome, +and to their despairing boast of the Roman numbers, answered, +‘Come out to us then, the thicker the hay, the easier +mowed,’—for five hundred years, I say, the hints of +their character are all those of a boy-nature.</p> +<p>They were cruel at times: but so are boys—much more +cruel than grown men, I hardly know why—perhaps because +they have not felt suffering so much themselves, and know not how +hard it is to bear. There were varieties of character among +them. The Franks were always false, vain, capricious, +selfish, taking part with the Romans whenever their interest or +vanity was at stake—the worst of all Teutons, though by no +means the weakest—and a miserable business they made of it +in France, for some five hundred years. The Goths, Salvian +says, were the most ignavi of all of them; great lazy lourdans; +apt to be cruel, too, the Visigoths at least, as their Spanish +descendants proved to the horror of the world: but men of honour +withal, as those old Spaniards were. The Saxons were famed +for cruelty—I know not why, for our branch of the Saxons +has been, from the beginning of history, the least cruel people +in Europe; but they had the reputation—as the Vandals had +also—of being the most pure; Castitate venerandi. And +among the uncivilized people coldness and cruelty go often +together. The less passionate and sensitive the nature, the +less open to pity. The Caribs of the West Indies were famed +for both, in contrast to the profligate and gentle inhabitants of +Cuba and Hispaniola; and in double contrast to the Red Indian +tribes of North America, who combined, from our first +acquaintance with them, the two vices of cruelty and profligacy, +to an extent which has done more to extirpate them than all the +fire-water of the white man.</p> +<p>But we must be careful how we compare our forefathers with +these, or any other savages. Those who, like Gibbon, have +tried to draw a parallel between the Red Indian and the +Primæval Teuton, have done so at the expense of +facts. First, they have overlooked the broad fact, that +while the Red Indians have been, ever since we have known them, a +decreasing race, the Teutons have been a rapidly increasing one; +in spite of war, and famine, and all the ills of a precarious +forest life, proving their youthful strength and vitality by a +reproduction unparalleled, as far as I know, in history, save +perhaps by that noble and young race, the Russian. These +writers have not known that the Teuton had his definite laws, +more simple, doubtless, in the time of Tacitus than in that of +Justinian, but still founded on abstract principles so deep and +broad that they form the groundwork of our English laws and +constitution; that the Teuton creed concerning the unseen world, +and divine beings, was of a loftiness and purity as far above the +silly legends of Hiawatha as the Teuton morals were above those +of a Sioux or a Comanche. Let any one read honest accounts +of the Red Indians; let him read Catlin, James, Lewis and Clarke, +Shoolbred; and first and best of all, the old ‘Travaile in +Virginia,’ published by the Hakluyt Society: and then let +him read the Germania of Tacitus, and judge for himself. +For my part, I believe that if Gibbon was right, and if our +forefathers in the German forests had been like Powhattan’s +people as we found them in the Virginian forests, the Romans +would not have been long in civilizing us off the face of the +earth.</p> +<p>No. All the notes which Tacitus gives us are notes of a +young and strong race; unconscious of its own capabilities, but +possessing such capabilities that the observant Romans saw at +once with dread and awe that they were face to face with such a +people as they had never met before; that in their hands, sooner +or later, might be the fate of Rome. Mad Caracalla, aping +the Teuton dress and hair, listening in dread to the songs of the +Allman Alrunas, telling the Teutons that they ought to come over +the Rhine and destroy the empire, and then, murdering the +interpreters, lest they should repeat his words, was but babbling +out in an insane shape the thought which was brooding in the most +far-seeing Roman minds. He felt that they could have done +the deed; and he felt rightly, madman as he was. They could +have done it then, if physical power and courage were all that +was needed, in the days of the Allman war. They could have +done it a few years before, when the Markmen fought Marcus +Aurelius Antoninus; on the day when the Cæsar, at the +advice of his augurs, sent two lions to swim across the Danube as +a test of victory; and the simple Markmen took them for big dogs, +and killed them with their clubs. From that day, indeed, +the Teutons began to conquer slowly, but surely. Though +Antoninus beat the Markmen on the Danube, and recovered 100,000 +Roman prisoners, yet it was only by the help of the Vandals; from +that day the empire was doomed, and the Teutons only kept at bay +by bribing one tribe to fight another, or by enlisting their more +adventurous spirits into the Roman legions, to fight against men +of their own blood;—a short-sighted and suicidal policy; +for by that very method they were teaching the Teuton all he +needed, the discipline and the military science of the Roman.</p> +<p>But the Teutons might have done it a hundred years before +that, when Rome was in a death agony, and Vitellius and Vespasian +were struggling for the purple, and Civilis and the fair Velleda, +like Barak and Deborah of old, raised the Teuton tribes. +They might have done it before that again, when Hermann slew +Varus and his legions in the Teutoburger Wald; or before that +again, when the Kempers and Teutons burst over the Alps, to +madden themselves with the fatal wines of the rich south. +And why did the Teutons <i>not</i> do it? Because they were +boys fighting against cunning men. Boiorich, the young +Kemper, riding down to Marius’ camp, to bid him fix the +place and time of battle—for the Teuton thought it mean to +use surprises and stratagems, or to conquer save in fair and open +fight—is the type of the Teuton hero; and one which had no +chance in a struggle with the cool, false, politic Roman, grown +grey in the experience of the forum and of the camp, and still as +physically brave as his young enemy. Because, too, there +was no unity among them; no feeling that they were brethren of +one blood. Had the Teuton tribes, at any one of the great +crises I have mentioned, and at many a crisis afterwards, united +for but three years, under the feeling of a common blood, +language, interest, destiny, Rome would have perished. But +they could not learn that lesson. They could not put aside +their boyish quarrels.</p> +<p>They never learnt the lesson till after their final victory, +when the Gospel of Christ—of a Being to whom they all owed +equal allegiance, in whose sight they were all morally +equal—came to unite them into a Christendom.</p> +<p>And it was well that they did not learn it sooner. Well +for them and for the world, that they did not unite on any false +ground of interest or ambition, but had to wait for the true +ground of unity, the knowledge of the God-man, King of all +nations upon earth.</p> +<p>Had they destroyed Rome sooner, what would not they have +lost? What would not the world have lost? +Christianity would have been stifled in its very cradle; and with +Christianity all chance—be sure of it—of their own +progress. Roman law, order, and discipline, the very things +which they needed to acquire by a contact of five hundred years, +would have been swept away. All classic literature and +classic art, which they learnt to admire with an almost +superstitious awe, would have perished likewise. Greek +philosophy, the germs of physical science, and all that we owe to +the ancients, would have perished; and we should have truly had +an invasion of the barbarians, followed by truly dark ages, in +which Europe would have had to begin all anew, without the help +of the generations which had gone before.</p> +<p>Therefore it was well as it was, and God was just and merciful +to them and to the human race. They had a glorious destiny, +and glorious powers wherewith to fulfil it: but they had, as +every man and people has, before whom there is a noble future, to +be educated by suffering. There was before them a terrible +experience of sorrow and disappointment, sin and blood, by which +they gained the first consciousness of what they could do and +what they could not. Like Adam of old, like every man unto +this day, they ate of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, +and were driven out of the paradise of unconsciousness; had to +begin again sadder and wiser men, and eat their bread in the +sweat of their brow; and so to rise, after their fall, into a +nobler, wiser, more artificial, and therefore more truly human +and divine life, than that from which they had at first fallen, +when they left their German wilds.</p> +<p>One does not, of course, mean the parallel to fit in all +details. The fall of the Teuton from the noble simplicity +in which Tacitus beheld and honoured him, was a work of four +centuries; perhaps it was going on in Tacitus’ own +time. But the culminating point was the century which saw +Italy conquered, and Rome sacked, by Visigoth, by Ostrogoth, by +Vandal, till nothing was left save fever-haunted ruins. +Then the ignorant and greedy child, who had been grasping so long +after the fair apples of Sodom, clutched them once and for all, +and found them turn to ashes in his hands.</p> +<p>Yes—it is thus that I wish you to look at the Invasion +of the Barbarians, Immigration of the Teutons, or whatsoever name +you may call it. Before looking at questions of migration, +of ethnology, of laws, and of classes, look first at the thing +itself; and see with sacred pity—and awe, one of the +saddest and grandest tragedies ever performed on earth. +Poor souls! And they were so simple withal. One +pities them, as one pities a child who steals apples, and makes +himself sick with them after all. It is not the enormous +loss of life which is to me the most tragic part of the story; it +is that very simplicity of the Teutons. Bloodshed is a bad +thing, certainly; but after all nature is prodigal of human +life—killing her twenty thousand and her fifty thousand by +a single earthquake; and as for death in battle—I sometimes +am tempted to think, having sat by many death beds, that our old +forefathers may have been right, and that death in battle may be +a not unenviable method of passing out of this troublesome +world. Besides, we have no right to blame those old +Teutons, while we are killing every year more of her +Majesty’s subjects by preventible disease, than ever they +killed in their bloodiest battle. Let us think of that, and +mend that, ere we blame the old German heroes. No, there +are more pitiful tragedies than any battlefield can shew; and +first among them, surely, is the disappointment of young hopes, +the degradation of young souls.</p> +<p>One pities them, I say. And they pitied +themselves. Remorse, shame, sadness, mark the few legends +and songs of the days which followed the fall of Rome. They +had done a great work. They had destroyed a mighty tyranny; +they had parted between them the spoils wrung from all the +nations; they had rid the earth of a mighty man-devouring ogre, +whose hands had been stretched out for centuries over all the +earth, dragging all virgins to his den, butchering and torturing +thousands for his sport; foul, too, with crimes for which their +language, like our own (thank God) has scarcely found a +name. Babylon the Great, drunken with the blood of the +saints, had fallen at last before the simple foresters of the +north: but if it looks a triumph to us, it looked not such to +them. They could only think how they had stained their +hands in their brothers’ blood. They had got the +fatal Nibelungen hoard: but it had vanished between their hands, +and left them to kill each other, till none was left.</p> +<p>You know the Nibelungen Lied? That expresses, I believe, +the key-note of the old Teuton’s heart, after his work was +done. Siegfried murdered by his brother-in-law; fair +Chriemhild turned into an avenging fury; the heroes hewing each +other down, they scarce know why, in Hunnish Etzel’s hall, +till Hagen and Gunther stand alone; Dietrich of Bern going in, to +bind the last surviving heroes; Chriemhild shaking Hagen’s +gory head in Gunther’s face, himself hewed down by the old +Hildebrand, till nothing is left but stark corpses and vain +tears:—while all the while the Nibelungen hoard, the cause +of all the woe, lies drowned in the deep Rhine until the judgment +day.—What is all this, but the true tale of the fall of +Rome, of the mad quarrels of the conquering Teutons? The +names are confused, mythic; the dates and places all awry: but +the tale is true—too true. Mutato nomine fabula +narratur. Even so they went on, killing, till none were +left. Deeds as strange, horrible, fratricidal, were done, +again and again, not only between Frank and Goth, Lombard and +Gepid, but between Lombard and Lombard, Frank and Frank. +Yes, they were drunk with each other’s blood, those elder +brethren of ours. Let us thank God that we did not share +their booty, and perish, like them, from the touch of the fatal +Nibelungen hoard. Happy for us Englishmen, that we were +forced to seek our adventures here, in this lonely isle; to turn +aside from the great stream of Teutonic immigration; and settle +here, each man on his forest-clearing, to till the ground in +comparative peace, keeping unbroken the old Teutonic laws, +unstained the old Teutonic faith and virtue, cursed neither with +poverty nor riches, but fed with food sufficient for us. To +us, indeed, after long centuries, peace brought sloth, and sloth +foreign invaders and bitter woes: but better so, than that we +should have cast away alike our virtue and our lives, in that mad +quarrel over the fairy gold of Rome.</p> +<h2>LECTURE II—THE DYING EMPIRE.</h2> +<p>It is not for me to trace the rise, or even the fall of the +Roman Empire. That would be the duty rather of a professor +of ancient history, than of modern. All I need do is to +sketch, as shortly as I can, the state in which the young world +found the old, when it came in contact with it.</p> +<p>The Roman Empire, toward the latter part of the fourth +century, was in much the same condition as the Chinese or the +Turkish Empire in our own days. Private morality (as +Juvenal and Persius will tell you), had vanished long +before. Public morality had, of course, vanished +likewise. The only powers really recognised were force and +cunning. The only aim was personal enjoyment. The +only God was the Divus Cæsar, the imperial demigod, whose +illimitable brute force gave him illimitable powers of +self-enjoyment, and made him thus the paragon and ideal of +humanity, whom all envied, flattered, hated, and obeyed. +The palace was a sink of corruption, where eunuchs, concubines, +spies, informers, freedmen, adventurers, struggled in the basest +plots, each for his share of the public plunder. The senate +only existed to register the edicts of their tyrant, and if need +be, destroy each other, or any one else, by judicial murders, the +willing tools of imperial cruelty. The government was +administered (at least since the time of Diocletian) by an +official bureaucracy, of which Professor Goldwin Smith well says, +‘the earth swarmed with the consuming hierarchy of +extortion, so that it was said that they who received taxes were +more than those who paid them.’ The free middle class +had disappeared, or lingered in the cities, too proud to labour, +fed on government bounty, and amused by government +spectacles. With them, arts and science had died +likewise. Such things were left to slaves, and became +therefore, literally, servile imitations of the past. What, +indeed, was not left to slaves? Drawn without respect of +rank, as well as of sex and age, from every nation under heaven +by an organized slave-trade, to which our late African one was +but a tiny streamlet compared with a mighty river; a slave-trade +which once bought 10,000 human beings in Delos in a single day; +the ‘servorum nationes’ were the only tillers of the +soil, of those ‘latifundia’ or great estates, +‘quæ perdidere Romam.’ Denied the rights +of marriage, the very name of humanity; protected by no law, save +the interest or caprice of their masters; subjected, for slight +offences, to cruel torments, they were butchered by thousands in +the amphitheatres to make a Roman holiday, or wore out their +lives in ‘ergastula’ or barracks, which were dens of +darkness and horror. Their owners, as +‘senatores,’ ‘clarissimi,’ or at least +‘curiales,’ spent their lives in the cities, +luxurious and effeminate, and left their slaves to the tender +mercy of ‘villici,’ stewards and gang-drivers, who +were themselves slaves likewise.</p> +<p>More pampered, yet more degraded, were the crowds of wretched +beings, cut off from all the hopes of humanity, who ministered to +the wicked pleasures of their masters, even in the palaces of +nominally Christian emperors—but over that side of Roman +slavery I must draw a veil, only saying, that the atrocities of +the Romans toward their slaves—especially of this last and +darkest kind—notably drew down on them the just wrath and +revenge of those Teutonic nations, from which so many of their +slaves were taken. <a name="citation19"></a><a href="#footnote19" +class="citation">[19]</a></p> +<p>And yet they called themselves Christians—to whom it had +been said, ‘Be not deceived, God is not mocked. For +these things cometh the wrath of God on the children of +disobedience.’ And the wrath did come.</p> +<p>If such were the morals of the Empire, what was its political +state? One of complete disorganization. The only +uniting bond left seems to have been that of the bureaucracy, the +community of tax-gatherers, who found it on the whole safer and +more profitable to pay into the imperial treasury a portion of +their plunder, than to keep it all themselves. It stood by +mere vi inertiæ, just because it happened to be there, and +there was nothing else to put in its place. Like an old +tree whose every root is decayed, it did not fall, simply because +the storm had not yet come. Storms, indeed, had come; but +they had been partial and local. One cannot look into the +pages of Gibbon, without seeing that the normal condition of the +empire was one of revolt, civil war, invasion—Pretenders, +like Carausius and Allectus in Britain, setting themselves up as +emperors for awhile—Bands of brigands, like the +Bagaudæ of Gaul, and the Circumcelliones of Africa, +wandering about, desperate with hunger and revenge, to slay and +pillage—Teutonic tribes making forays on the frontier, +enlisted into the Roman armies, and bought off, or hired to keep +back the tribes behind them, and perish by their brethren’s +swords.</p> +<p>What kept the empire standing, paradoxical as it may seem, was +its own innate weakness. From within, at least, it could +not be overthrown. The masses were too crushed to +rise. Without unity, purpose, courage, they submitted to +inevitable misery as to rain and thunder. At most they +destroyed their own children from poverty, or, as in Egypt, fled +by thousands into the caves and quarries, and turned monks and +hermits; while the upper classes, equally without unity or +purpose, said each to himself, ‘Let us eat and drink, for +to-morrow we die.’</p> +<p>The state of things at Rome, and after the rise of Byzantium +under Constantine at Byzantium likewise, was one altogether +fantastic, abnormal, utterly unlike anything that we have seen, +or can imagine to ourselves without great effort. I know no +better method of illustrating it, than quoting, from Mr. +Sheppard’s excellent book, <i>The Fall of Rome and the Rise +of New Nationalities</i>, a passage in which he transfers the +whole comi-tragedy from Italy of old to England in 1861.</p> +<p>‘I have not thought it necessary to give a separate and +distinct reply to the theory of Mr. Congreve, that Roman +Imperialism was the type of all good government, and a desirable +precedent for ourselves. Those who feel any penchant for +the notion, I should strongly recommend to read the answer of +Professor G. Smith, in the <i>Oxford Essays</i> for 1856, which +is as complete and crushing as that gentleman’s +performances usually are. But in order to convey to the +uninitiated some idea of the state of society under +Cæsarian rule, and which a Cæsarian rule, so far as +mere government is concerned, if it does not produce, has never +shewn any tendency to prevent, let us give reins to imagination +for a moment, and picture to ourselves a few social and political +analogies in our own England of the nineteenth century.</p> +<p>‘An entire revolution has taken place in our principles, +manners, and form of government. Parliaments, meetings, and +all the ordinary expressions of the national will, are no longer +in existence. A free press has shared their fate. +There is no accredited organ of public opinion; indeed there is +no public opinion to record. Lords and Commons have been +swept away, though a number of the richest old gentlemen in +London meet daily at Westminster to receive orders from +Buckingham Palace. But at the palace itself has broken out +one of those sanguinary conspiracies which have of late become +unceasing. The last heir of the house of Brunswick is lying +dead with a dagger in his heart, and everything is in frightful +confusion. The armed force of the capital are of course +“masters of the situation,” and the Guards, after a +tumultuous meeting at Windsor or Knightsbridge, have sold the +throne to Baron Rothschild, for a handsome donation of £25 +a-piece. Lord Clyde, however, we may be sure, is not likely +to stand this, and in a few months will be marching upon London +at the head of the Indian Army. In the mean time the +Channel Fleet has declared for its own commander, has seized upon +Plymouth and Portsmouth, and intends to starve the metropolis by +stopping the imports of “bread-stuffs” at the mouth +of the Thames. And this has become quite possible; for half +the population of London, under the present state of things, +subsist upon free distributions of corn dispensed by the occupant +of the throne for the time being. But a more fatal change +than even this has come over the population of the capital and of +the whole country. The free citizens and ’prentices +of London; the sturdy labourers of Dorsetshire and the eastern +counties; and the skilful artizans of Manchester, Sheffield and +Birmingham; the mariners and shipwrights of Liverpool, have been +long ago drafted into marching regiments, and have left their +bones to bleach beneath Indian suns and Polar snows. Their +place has been supplied by countless herds of negro slaves, who +till the fields and crowd the workshops of our towns, to the +entire exclusion of free labour; for the free population, or +rather the miserable relics of them, disdain all manual +employment: they divide their time between starvation and a +degrading debauchery, the means for which are sedulously provided +by the government. The time-honoured institutions of the +bull-bait, the cockpit, and the ring, are in daily operation, +under the most distinguished patronage. Hyde Park has been +converted into a gigantic arena, where criminals from Newgate +“set-to” with the animals from the Zoological +Gardens. Every fortnight there is a Derby Day, and the +whole population pour into the Downs with frantic excitement, +leaving the city to the slaves. And then the moral +condition of this immense mass! Of the doings about the +palace we should be sorry to speak. But the lady +patronesses of Almack’s still more assiduously patronize +the prize-fights, and one of them has been seen within the ropes, +in battle array, by the side of Sayers himself. No tongue +may tell the orgies enacted, with the aid of French cooks, +Italian singers, and foreign artists of all sorts, in the gilded +saloons of Park Lane and Mayfair. Suffice to say, that in +them the worst passions of human nature have full swing, +unmodified by any thought of human or divine restraints, and only +dashed a little now and then by the apprehension that the slaves +may rise, and make a clean sweep of the metropolis with fire and +steel. But <i>n’importe</i>—<i>Vive la +bagatelle</i>! Mario has just been appointed prime +minister, and has made a chorus singer from the Opera Duke of +Middlesex and Governor-General of India. All wise men and +all good men despair of the state, but they are not permitted to +say anything, much less to act. Mr. Disraeli lost his head +a few days ago; Lords Palmerston and Derby lie in the Tower under +sentence of death; Lord Brougham, the Archbishop of Canterbury, +and Mr. Gladstone, opened their veins and died in a warm bath +last week. Foreign relations will make a still greater +demand on the reader’s imagination. We must conceive +of England no longer as</p> +<blockquote><p>“A precious stone set in the silver sea,<br +/> +Which serves it in the office of a wall,<br /> +Or as a moat defensive of a house.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>but rather as open to the inroad of every foe whom her +aggressive and colonizing genius has provoked. The red man +of the West, the Caffre, the Sikh, and the Sepoy, Chinese braves, +and fierce orientals of all sorts, are hovering on her frontiers +in “numbers numberless,” as the flakes of snow in the +northern winter. They are not the impotent enemy which we +know, but vigorous races, supplied from inexhaustible founts of +population, and animated by an insatiate appetite for the gold +and silver, purple and fine linen, rich meats and intoxicating +drinks of our effete civilization. And we can no longer +oppose them with those victorious legions which have fought and +conquered in all regions of the world. The men of Waterloo +and Inkermann are no more. We are compelled to recruit our +armies from those very tribes before whose swords we are +receding!</p> +<p>‘Doubtless the ordinary reader will believe this picture +to be overcharged, drawn with manifest exaggeration, and somewhat +questionable taste. <i>Every single statement which it +contains</i> may be paralleled by the circumstances and events of +the decadence of the Roman Empire. The analogous situation +was with the subjects of this type of all good government, +<i>always a possible</i>, often an actual, state of things. +We think this disposes of the theory of Mr. Congreve. With +it may advantageously be contrasted the opinion of a man of more +statesman-like mind. “The benefits of despotism are +short-lived; it poisons the very springs which it lays open; if +it display a merit, it is an exceptional one; if a virtue, it is +created of circumstances; and when once this better hour has +passed away, all the vices of its nature break forth with +redoubled violence, and weigh down society in every +direction.” So writes M. Guizot. Is it the +language of prophecy as well as of personal +experience?’</p> +<p>Mr. Sheppard should have added, to make the picture complete, +that the Irish have just established popery across St. +George’s Channel, by the aid of re-immigrants from America; +that Free Kirk and National Kirk are carrying on a sanguinary +civil war in Scotland; that the Devonshire Wesleyans have just +sacked Exeter cathedral, and murdered the Bishop at the altar, +while the Bishop of London, supported by the Jews and the rich +churchmen (who are all mixed up in financial operations with +Baron Rothschild) has just commanded all Dissenters to leave the +metropolis within three days, under pain of death.</p> +<p>I must add yet one more feature to this fearful, but accurate +picture, and say how, a few generations forward, an even uglier +thing would be seen. The English aristocracy would have +been absorbed by foreign adventurers. The grandchildren of +these slaves and mercenaries would be holding the highest offices +in the state and the army, naming themselves after the masters +who had freed them, or disguising their barbarian names by +English endings. The De Fung-Chowvilles would be Dukes, the +Little-grizzly-bear-Joe-Smiths Earls, and the Fitz-Stanleysons, +descended from a king of the gipsies who enlisted to avoid +transportation, and in due time became Commander-in-Chief, would +rule at Knowsley in place of the Earl of Derby, having inherited +the same by the summary process of assassination. Beggars +on horseback, only too literally; married, most of them, to +Englishwomen of the highest rank; but looking on England merely +as a prey; without patriotism, without principle; they would +destroy the old aristocracy by legal murders, grind the people, +fight against their yet barbarian cousins outside, as long as +they were in luck: but the moment the luck turned against them, +would call in those barbarian cousins to help them, and invade +England every ten years with heathen hordes, armed no more with +tulwar and matchlock, but with Enfield rifle and Whitworth +cannon. And that, it must be agreed, would be about the +last phase of the British empire. If you will look through +the names which figure in the high places of the Roman empire, +during the fourth and fifth centuries, you will see how few of +them are really Roman. If you will try to investigate, not +their genealogies—for they have none—not a +grandfather among them—but the few facts of their lives +which have come down to us; you will see how that Nemesis had +fallen on her which must at last fall on every nation which +attempts to establish itself on slavery as a legal basis. +Rome had become the slave of her own slaves.</p> +<p>It is at this last period, the point when Rome has become the +slave of her own slaves, that I take up the story of our Teutonic +race.</p> +<p>I do not think that anyone will call either Mr. +Sheppard’s statements, or mine, exaggerated, who knows the +bitter complaints of the wickedness and folly of the time, which +are to be found in the writings of the Emperor Julian. +Pedant and apostate as he was, he devoted his short life to one +great idea, the restoration of the Roman Empire to what it had +been (as he fancied) in the days of the virtuous stoic Emperors +of the second century. He found his dream a dream, owing to +the dead heap of frivolity, sensuality, brutality, utter +unbelief, not merely in the dead Pagan gods whom he vainly tried +to restore, but in any god at all, as a living, ruling, judging, +rewarding, punishing power.</p> +<p>No one, again, will call these statements exaggerated who +knows the Roman history of his faithful servant and soldier, +Ammianus Marcellinus, and especially the later books of it, in +which he sets forth the state of the Empire after Julian’s +death, under Jovian, Procopius, Valentinian, (who kept close to +his bed-chamber two she-bears who used to eat men, one called +Golden Camel, and the other Innocence—which latter, when +she had devoured a sufficiency of his living victims, he set free +in the forests as a reward for her services—a brutal +tyrant, whose only virtue seems to have been his chastity); and +Valens, the shameless extortioner who perished in that great +battle of Adrianople, of which more hereafter. The last +five remaining books of the honest soldier’s story are a +tissue of horrors, from reading which one turns away as from a +slaughter-house or a witches’ sabbath.</p> +<p>No one, again, will think these statements exaggerated who +knows Salvian’s De Gubernatione Dei. It has been +always and most justly held in high esteem, as one great +authority of the state of Gaul when conquered by the Franks and +Goths and Vandals.</p> +<p>Salvian was a Christian gentleman, born somewhere near +Treves. He married a Pagan lady of Cologne, converted her, +had by her a daughter, and then persuaded her to devote herself +to celibacy, while he did the like. His father-in-law, +Hypatius, quarrelled with him on this account; and the letter in +which he tries to soothe the old man is still extant, a curious +specimen of the style of cultivated men in that day. +Salvian then went down to the south of France and became a priest +at Marseilles, and tutor to the sons of Eucherius, the Bishop of +Lyons. Eucherius, himself a good man, speaks in terms of +passionate admiration of Salvian, his goodness, sanctity, +learning, talents. Gennadius (who describes him as still +living when he wrote, about 490) calls him among other encomiums, +the Master of Bishops; and both mention familiarly this very +work, by which he became notorious in his own day, and which he +wrote about 450 or 455, during the invasion of the Britons. +So that we may trust fully that we have hold of an authentic +contemporaneous work, written by a good man and true.</p> +<p>Let me first say a few words on the fact of his +having—as many good men did then—separated from his +wife in order to lead what was called a religious life. It +has a direct bearing on the History of those days. One must +not praise him because he (in common with all Christians of his +day) held, no doubt, the belief that marriage was a degradation +in itself; that though the Church might mend it somewhat by +exalting it into a sacrament, still, the less of a bad thing the +better:—a doctrine against which one need not use (thank +God) in England, the same language which Michelet has most justly +used in France. We, being safe from the poison, can afford +to talk of it calmly. But I boldly assert, that few more +practically immoral doctrines than that of the dignity of +celibacy and the defilement of marriage (which was the doctrine +of all Christian devotees for 1000 years) have, as far as I know, +ever been preached to man. That is a strong +statement. It will be answered perhaps, by the patent fact, +that during those very 1000 years the morality of Europe improved +more, and more rapidly, than it had ever done before. I +know it; and I thank God for it. But I adhere to my +statement, and rejoin—And how much more rapidly have the +morals of Europe improved, since that doctrine has been swept +away; and woman, and the love of woman, have been restored to +their rightful place in the education of man?</p> +<p>But if we do not praise Salvian, we must not blame him, or any +one else who meant to be an honest and good man. Such did +not see to what their celibate notions would lead. If they +had, we must believe that they would have acted +differently. And what is more, their preference for +celibacy was not fancy, but common sense of a very lofty +kind. Be sure that when two middle-aged Christian people +consider it best to part, they have very good reasons for such a +solemn step, at which only boys or cynics will laugh. And +the reasons, in Salvian’s case, and many more in his day, +are patent to common human understanding. Do not fancy that +he had any private reason, such as we should very fairly assign +now: public reasons, and those, such as God grant no living man +may see, caused wise men to thank God that they were not burdened +with wife and child. Remember the years in which Salvian +lived—from 416 perhaps to 490. It was a day of the +Lord such as Joel saw; ‘a day of clouds and of thick +darkness, as the morning spread upon the mountains; a great +people and strong; there had not been ever the like, neither +should be any more after it: the land was a garden of Eden before +them, and behind them a desolate wilderness: Yea, and nothing +should escape them.’ All things were going to wrack; +the country was overrun by foreign invaders; bankruptcy, +devastation, massacre, and captivity were for perhaps 100 years +the normal state of Gaul, and of most other countries +besides. I have little doubt that Salvian was a prudent +man, when he thought fit to bring no more human beings into the +world. That is an ugly thought—I trust that you feel +how ugly, unnatural, desperate a thought it is. If you do +not, think over it till you do, till it frightens you. You +will gain a great step thereby in human sympathy, and therefore +in the understanding of history. For many times, and in +many places, men have said, rightly or wrongly, ‘It is +better to leave none behind me like myself. The miseries of +life (and of what comes after this life) are greater than its +joys. I commit an act of cruelty by bringing a fresh human +being into the world.’ I wish you to look at that +thought steadily, and apply it for yourselves. It has many +applications: and has therefore been a very common one.</p> +<p>But put to yourselves—it is too painful for me to put to +you—the case of a married gentleman who sees his country +gradually devastated and brought to utter ruin by foreign +invaders; and who feels—as poor Salvian felt, that there is +no hope or escape; that the misery is merited, deserved, fairly +<i>earned</i> (for that is the true meaning of those words), and +therefore must come. Conceive him seeing around him estates +destroyed, farms burnt, ladies and gentlemen, his own friends and +relations, reduced in an hour to beggary, plundered, stript, +driven off in gangs—I do not choose to finish the picture: +but ask yourselves, would an honourable man wish to bring +sons—much more daughters—into the world to endure +that?</p> +<p>Put yourselves in Salvian’s place. Forget for a +few minutes that you are Englishmen, the freest and bravest +nation upon earth, strong in all that gives real strength, and +with a volunteer army which is now formidable by numbers and +courage—which, did the terrible call come, might be +increased ten times in as many months. Forget all that +awhile; and put yourselves in Salvian’s place, the +gentleman of Gaul, while Franks and Goths, Burgunds and Vandals +were sweeping, wave after wave, over that lovely land; and judge +him rationally, and talk as little as possible of his +superstition, and as much as possible of his human feeling, +prudence, self-control, and common sense. Believe me, +neither celibacy, nor any other seemingly unnatural superstition +would have held its ground for a generation if there had not been +some practical considerations of common sense to back them. +We wonder why men in old times went into monasteries. The +simplest answer is, common sense sent them thither. They +were tired of being the slaves of their own passions; they were +tired of killing, and of running the chance of being +killed. They saw society, the whole world, going to wrack, +as they thought, around them: what could they do better, than see +that their own characters, morals, immortal souls did not go to +wrack with the rest. We wonder why women, especially women +of rank, went into convents; why, as soon as a community of monks +was founded, a community of nuns sprung up near them. The +simplest answer is, common sense sent them thither. The +men, especially of the upper fighting classes, were killed off +rapidly; the women were not killed off, and a large number always +remained, who, if they had wished to marry, could not. What +better for them than to seek in convents that peace which this +world could not give?</p> +<p>They may have mixed up with that simple wish for peace the +notion of being handmaids of God, brides of Christ, and so +forth. Be it so. Let us instead of complaining, thank +heaven that there was some motive, whether quite right or not, to +keep alive in them self-respect, and the feeling that they were +not altogether useless and aimless on earth. Look at the +question in this light, and you will understand two things; +first, how horrible the times were, and secondly, why there grew +up in the early middle age a passion for celibacy.</p> +<p>Salvian, in a word, had already grown up to manhood and +reason, when he saw a time come to his native country, in which +were fulfilled, with fearful exactness, the words of the prophet +Isaiah:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘Behold, the Lord maketh the land empty, and +maketh it waste, and turneth it upside down, and scattereth +abroad the inhabitants thereof. And it shall be, as with +the people, so with the priest; as with the slave, so with his +master; as with the maid, so with her mistress; as with the +seller, so with the buyer; as with the lender, so with the +borrower; as with the taker of usury, so with the giver of usury +to him. The land shall be utterly emptied, and utterly +spoiled; for the Lord hath spoken this word.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>And Salvian desired to know the reason why the Lord had spoken +that word, and read his Bible till he found out, and wrote +thereon his book De Gubernatione Dei, of the government of God; +and a very noble book it is. He takes his stand on the +ground of Scripture, with which he shews an admirable +acquaintance. The few good were expecting the end of the +world. Christ was coming to put an end to all these +horrors: but why did he delay his coming? The many weak +were crying that God had given up the world; that Christ had +deserted his Church, and delivered over Christians to the +cruelties of heathen and Arian barbarians. The many bad +were openly blaspheming, throwing off in despair all faith, all +bonds of religion, all common decency, and crying, Let us eat and +drink, for to-morrow we die. Salvian answers them like an +old Hebrew prophet: ‘The Lord’s arm is not +shortened. The Lord’s eyes are not closed. The +Lord is still as near as ever. He is governing the world as +He has always governed it: by the everlasting moral laws, by +which the wages of sin are death. Your iniquities have +withheld good things from you. You have earned exactly what +God has paid you. Yourselves are your own punishment. +You have been wicked men, and therefore weak men; your own vices, +and not the Goths, have been your true conquerors.’ +As I said in my inaugural lecture—that is after all the +true theory of history. Men may forget it in piping times +of peace. God grant that in the dark hour of adversity, God +may always raise up to them a prophet, like good old Salvian, to +preach to them once again the everlasting judgments of God; and +teach them that not faulty constitutions, faulty laws, faulty +circumstances of any kind, but the faults of their own hearts and +lives, are the causes of their misery.</p> +<p>M. Guizot, in his elaborate work on the History of +Civilization in France, has a few curious pages, on the causes of +the decline of civil society in Roman Gaul, and its consequent +weakness and ruin. He tells you how the Senators or +Clarissimi did not constitute a true aristocracy, able to lead +and protect the people, being at the mercy of the Emperor, and +nominated and removed at his pleasure. How the Curiales, or +wealthy middle class, who were bound by law to fulfil all the +municipal offices, and were responsible for the collection of the +revenue, found their responsibilities so great, that they by +every trick in their power, avoided office. How, as M. +Guizot well puts it, the central despotism of Rome stript the +Curiales of all they earned, to pay its own functionaries and +soldiers; and gave them the power of appointing magistrates, who +were only after all the imperial agents of that despotism, for +whose sake they robbed their fellow-citizens. How the +plebs, comprising the small tradesmen and free artizans, were +utterly unable to assert their own opinions or rights. How +the slave population, though their condition was much improved, +constituted a mere dead weight of helpless brutality.</p> +<p>And then he says, that the Roman Empire was dying. Very +true: but often as he quotes Salvian, he omits always to tell us +what Roman society was dying of. Salvian says, that it was +dying of vice. Not of bad laws and class arrangements, but +of bad men. M. Guizot belongs to a school which is apt to +impute human happiness and prosperity too exclusively to the +political constitution under which they may happen to live, +irrespectively of the morality of the people themselves. +From that, the constitutionalist school, there has been of late a +strong reaction, the highest exponent, nay the very +coryphæus of which is Mr. Carlyle. He undervalues, +even despises, the influence of laws and constitutions: with him +private virtue, from which springs public virtue, is the first +and sole cause of national prosperity. My inaugural lecture +has told you how deeply I sympathize with his view—taking +my stand, as Mr. Carlyle does, on the Hebrew prophets.</p> +<p>There is, nevertheless, a side of truth in the +constitutionalist view, which Mr. Carlyle, I think, +overlooks. A bad political constitution does produce +poverty and weakness: but only in as far as it tends to produce +moral evil; to make men bad. That it can help to do. +It can put a premium on vice, on falsehood, on peculation, on +laziness, on ignorance; and thus tempt the mass to moral +degradation, from the premier to the slave. Russia has +been, for two centuries now but too patent a proof of the truth +of this assertion. But even in this case, the moral element +is the most important, and just the one which is +overlooked. To have good laws, M. Guizot is apt to forget, +you must first have good men to make them; and second, you must +have good men to carry them out, after they are made. Bad +men can abuse the best of laws, the best of constitutions. +Look at the working of our parliaments during the reigns of +William III and Anne, and see how powerless good constitutions +are, when the men who work them are false and venal. Look, +on the other hand, at the Roman Empire from the time of Vespasian +to that of the Antonines, and see how well even a bad +constitution will succeed, when good men are working it.</p> +<p>Bad laws, I say, will work tolerably under good men, if fitted +to the existing circumstances by men of the world, as all Roman +laws were. If they had not been such, how was the Roman +Empire, at least in its first years, a blessing to the safety, +prosperity, and wealth of every country it enslaved? But +when defective Roman laws began to be worked by bad men, and that +for 200 years, then indeed came times of evil. Let us take, +then, Salvian’s own account of the cause of Roman +decay. He, an eye-witness, imputes it all to the morals of +Roman citizens. They were, according to him, of the very +worst. To the general dissoluteness he attributes, in plain +words, the success of the Frank and Gothic invaders. And +the facts which he gives, and which there is no reason to doubt, +are quite enough to prove him in the right. Every great +man’s house, he says, was a sink of profligacy. The +women slaves were at the mercy of their master; and the slaves +copied his morals among themselves. It is an ugly picture: +but common sense will tell us, if we but think a little, that +such will, and must, be the case in slave-holding countries, +wherever Christianity is not present in its purest and strongest +form, to control the passions of arbitrary power.</p> +<p>But there was not merely profligacy among these Gauls. +That alone would not have wrought their immediate ruin. +Morals were bad enough in old Greece and Rome; as they were +afterwards among the Turks: nevertheless as long as a race is +strong; as long as there is prudence, energy, deep national +feeling, outraged virtue does not avenge itself at once by +general ruin. But it avenges itself at last, as Salvian +shews—as all experience shews. As in individuals so +in nations, unbridled indulgence of the passions must produce, +and does produce, frivolity, effeminacy, slavery to the appetite +of the moment, a brutalized and reckless temper, before which, +prudence, energy, national feeling, any and every feeling which +is not centered in self, perishes utterly. The old French +noblesse gave a proof of this law, which will last as a warning +beacon to the end of time. The Spanish population of +America, I am told, gives now a fearful proof of this same +terrible penalty. Has not Italy proved it likewise, for +centuries past? It must be so, gentlemen. For +national life is grounded on, is the development of, the life of +the family. And where the root is corrupt, the tree must be +corrupt likewise. It must be so. For Asmodeus does +not walk alone. In his train follow impatience and +disappointment, suspicion and jealousy, rage and cruelty, and all +the passions which set man’s hand against his +fellow-man. It must be so. For profligacy is +selfishness; and the family, and the society, the nation, exists +only by casting away selfishness and by obeying law:—not +only the outward law, which says in the name of God, ‘Thou +shalt not,’ but the inward law, the Law of Christ, which +says, ‘Thou must;’ the law of self-sacrifice, which +selfish lust tramples under foot, till there is no more cohesion +left between man and man, no more trust, no more fellow-help, +than between the stags who fight for the hinds; and God help the +nation which has brought itself to that!</p> +<p>No wonder, therefore, if Salvian’s accounts of Gaulish +profligacy be true, that Gaulish recklessness reached at last a +pitch all but incredible. It is credible, however shocking, +that as he says, he himself saw, both at Treves, and another +great city (probably Cologne, Colonia Agrippina, or ‘The +Colony’ par excellence) while the destruction of the state +was imminent, ‘old men of rank, decrepit Christians, slaves +to gluttony and lust, rabid with clamour, furious with +bacchanalian orgies.’ It is credible, however +shocking, that all through Gaul the captivity was +‘foreseen, yet never dreaded.’ And ‘so +when the barbarians had encamped almost in sight, there was no +terror among the people, no care of the cities. All was +possest by carelessness and sloth, gluttony, drunkenness, sleep, +according to that which the prophet saith: A sleep from the Lord +had come over them.’ It is credible, however +shocking, that though Treves was four times taken by the +barbarians, it remained just as reckless as ever; and +that—I quote Salvian still—when the population was +half destroyed by fire and sword, the poor dying of famine, +corpses of men and women lying about the streets breeding +pestilence, while the dogs devoured them, the few nobles who were +left comforted themselves by sending to the Emperor to beg for +Circensian games.</p> +<p>Those Circensian games, and indeed all the public spectacles, +are fresh proofs of what I said just now; that if a bad people +earn bad government, still a bad government makes a bad +people.</p> +<p>They were the most extraordinary instance which the world ever +saw, of a government setting to work at a vast expense to debauch +its subjects. Whether the Roman rulers set that purpose +consciously before them, one dare not affirm. Their notion +probably was (for they were as worldly wise as they were +unprincipled) that the more frivolous and sensual the people +were, the more quietly they would submit to slavery; and the best +way to keep them frivolous and sensual, the Romans knew full +well; so well, that after the Empire became Christian, and many +heathen matters were done away with, they did not find it safe to +do away with the public spectacles. The temples of the Gods +might go: but not the pantomimes.</p> +<p>In one respect, indeed, these government spectacles became +worse, not better, under Christianity. They were less +cruel, no doubt: but also they were less beautiful. The old +custom of exhibiting representations of the old Greek myths, +which had something of grace and poetry about them, and would +carry back the spectators’ thoughts to the nobler and purer +heroic ages, disappeared before Christianity; but the old vice +did not. That was left; and no longer ennobled by the old +heroic myths round which it had clustered itself, was simply of +the silliest and most vulgar kind. We know in detail the +abominations, as shameless and ridiculous, which went on a +century after Salvian, in the theatres of Constantinople, under +the eyes of the most Christian Emperor Justinian, and which won +for that most infamous woman, Theodora, a share in his imperial +crown, and the right to dictate doctrine to the Christian Bishops +of the East, and to condemn the soul of Origen to everlasting +damnation, for having exprest hopes of the final pardon of +sinners. We can well believe, therefore, Salvian’s +complaints of the wickedness of those pantomimes of which he +says, that ‘honeste non possunt vel accusari;’ he +cannot even accuse them without saying what he is ashamed to say; +I believe also his assertion, that they would not let people be +modest, even if they wished; that they inflamed the passions, and +debauched the imaginations of young and old, man and woman, +and—but I am not here to argue that sin is sin, or that the +population of London would be the worse if the most shameless +persons among them were put by the Government in possession of +Drury Lane and Covent Garden; and that, and nothing less than +that, did the Roman pantomimes mean, from the days of Juvenal +till those of the most holy and orthodox Empress Theodora.</p> +<p>‘Who, knowing the judgment of God, that they who do such +things are worthy of death, not only do the same, but have +pleasure in them that do them.’</p> +<p>Now in contrast to all these abominations, old Salvian sets, +boldly and honestly, the superior morality of the +barbarians. That, he says, is the cause of their strength +and our weakness. We, professing orthodoxy, are profligate +hypocrites. They, half heathens, half Arians, are honester +men, purer men than we. There is no use, he says, in +despising the Goths as heretics, while they are better men than +we. They are better Christians than the Romans, because +they are better men. They pray to God for success, and +trust in him, and we presumptuously trust in ourselves. We +swear by Christ: but what do we do but blaspheme him, when we +swear ‘Per Christum tollo eum,’ ‘I will make +away with him,’ ‘Per Christum hunc jugulo,’ +‘I will cut his throat,’ and then believe ourselves +bound to commit the murder which we have vowed? . . . ‘The +Saxons,’ he says, ‘are fierce, the Franks faithless, +the Gepidæ inhuman, the Huns shameless. But is the +Frank’s perfidy as blameable as ours? Is the +Alman’s drunkenness, or the Alan’s rapacity, as +damnable as a Christian’s? If a Hun or a Gepid +deceives you, what wonder? He is utterly ignorant that +there is any sin in falsehood. But what of the Christian +who does the same? The Barbarians,’ he says, +‘are better men than the Christians. The +Goths,’ he says, ‘are perfidious, but chaste. +The Alans unchaste, but less perfidious. The Franks are +liars, but hospitable; the Saxons ferociously cruel, but +venerable for their chastity. The Visigoths who conquered +Spain,’ he says, ‘were the most “ignavi” +(heavy, I presume he means, and loutish) of all the barbarians: +but they were chaste, and therefore they conquered.’</p> +<p>In Africa, if we are to believe Salvian, things stood even +worse, at the time of the invasion of the Vandals. In his +violent invectives against the Africans, however, allowance must +be made. Salvian was a great lover of monks; and the +Africans used, he says, to detest them, and mob them wherever +they appeared; for which offence, of course, he can find no words +too strong. St. Augustine, however, himself a countryman of +theirs, who died, happily, just before the storm burst on that +hapless land, speaks bitterly of their exceeding +profligacy—of which he himself in his wild youth, had had +but too sad experience. Salvian’s assertion is, that +the Africans were the most profligate of all the Romans; and that +while each barbarian tribe had (as we have just seen) some good +in them, the Africans had none.</p> +<p>But there were noble souls left among them, lights which shone +all the more brightly in the surrounding darkness. In the +pages of Victor Vitensis, which tell the sad story of the +persecution of the African Catholics by the Arian Vandals, you +will find many a moving tale which shews that God had his own, +even among those degraded Carthaginians.</p> +<p>The causes of the Arian hatred to the Catholics is very +obscure. You will find all that is known in Dean +Milman’s History of Latin Christianity. A simple +explanation may be found in the fact that the Catholics +considered the Arians, and did not conceal their opinion, as all +literally and actually doomed to the torments of everlasting +fire; and that, as Gibbon puts it, ‘The heroes of the +north, who had submitted with some reluctance, to believe that +all their ancestors were in hell, were astonished and exasperated +to learn, that they themselves had only changed the mode of their +eternal condemnation.’ The Teutons were (Salvian +himself confesses it) trying to serve God devoutly, in chastity, +sobriety, and honesty, according to their light. And they +were told by the profligates of Africa, that this and no less, +was their doom. It is not to be wondered at, again, if they +mistook the Catholic creed for the cause of Catholic +immorality. That may account for the Vandal custom of +re-baptizing the Catholics. It certainly accounts for the +fact (if after all it be a fact) which Victor states, that they +tortured the nuns to extort from them shameful confessions +against the priests. But the history of the African +persecution is the history of all persecutions, as confest again +and again by the old fathers, as proved by the analogies of later +times. The sins of the Church draw down punishment, by +making her enemies confound her doctrine and her practice. +But in return, the punishment of the Church purifies her, and +brings out her nobleness afresh, as the snake casts his skin in +pain, and comes out young and fair once more; and in every dark +hour of the Church, there flashes out some bright form of human +heroism, to be a beacon and a comfort to all future time. +Victor, for instance, tells the story of Dionysia, the beautiful +widow whom the Vandals tried to torture into denying the Divinity +of our Lord.—How when they saw that she was bolder and +fairer than all the other matrons, they seized her, and went to +strip her: and she cried to them, ‘Qualiter libet occidite: +verecunda tamen membra nolite nudare,’ but in vain. +They hung her up by the hands, and scourged her till streams of +blood ran down every limb. Her only son, a delicate boy, +stood by trembling, knowing that his turn would come next; and +she saw it, and called to him in the midst of her shame and +agony. ‘He had been baptized into the name of the +Blessed Trinity; let him die in that name, and not lose the +wedding-garment. Let him fear the pain that never ends, and +cling to the life that endures for ever.’ The boy +took heart, and when his turn came, died under the torture; and +Dionysia took up the little corpse, and buried it in her own +house; and worshipped upon her boy’s grave to her dying +day.</p> +<p>Yes. God had his own left, even among those fallen +Africans of Carthage.</p> +<p>But neither there, nor in Spain, could the Vandals cure the +evil. ‘Now-a-days,’ says Salvian, ‘there +are no profligates among the Goths, save Romans; none among the +Vandals, save Romans. Blush, Roman people, everywhere, +blush for your morals. There is hardly a city free from +dens of sin, and none at all from impurity, save those which the +barbarians have begun to occupy. And do we wonder if we are +surpassed in power, by an enemy who surpasses us in +decency? It is not the natural strength of their bodies +which makes them conquer us. We have been conquered only by +the vices of our own morals.’</p> +<p>Yes. Salvian was right. Those last words were no +mere outburst of national vanity, content to confess every sin, +save that of being cowards. He was right. It was not +the mere muscle of the Teuton which enabled him to crush the +decrepit and debauched slave-nations, Gaul and Briton, Iberian +and African, as the ox crushes the frogs of the marsh. The +‘sera juvenum Venus, ideoque inexhausta pubertas,’ +had given him more than his lofty stature, and his mighty +limbs. Had he had nought but them, he might have remained +to the end a blind Samson, grinding among the slaves in +Cæsar’s mill, butchered to make a Roman +holiday. But it had given him more, that purity of his; it +had given him, as it may give you, gentlemen, a calm and steady +brain, and a free and loyal heart; the energy which springs from +health; the self-respect which comes from self-restraint; and the +spirit which shrinks from neither God nor man, and feels it light +to die for wife and child, for people, and for Queen.</p> +<h2>PREFACE TO LECTURE III.—ON DR. LATHAM’S +‘GERMANIA.’</h2> +<p>If I have followed in these lectures the better known and more +widely received etymology of the name Goth, I have done so out of +no disrespect to Dr. Latham; but simply because his theory seems +to me adhuc sub judice. It is this, as far as I understand +it. That ‘Goth’ was not the aboriginal name of +the race. That they were probably not so called till they +came into the land of the Getæ, about the mouths of the +Danube. That the Teutonic name for the Ostrogoths was +Grutungs, and that of the Visigoths (which he does not consider +to mean West-Goths) Thervings, Thüringer. That on +reaching the land of the Getæ they took their name; +‘just as the Kentings of Anglo-Saxon England took name from +the Keltic country of Kent;’ and that the names Goth, +Gothones, Gothini were originally given to Lithuanians by their +Sclavonic neighbours. I merely state the theory, and leave +it for the judgment of others.</p> +<p>The principal points which Dr. Latham considers himself to +have established, are—</p> +<p>That the area and population of the Teutonic tribes have been, +on the authority of Tacitus, much overrated; many tribes hitherto +supposed to be Teutonic being really Sclavonic, &c.</p> +<p>This need not shock our pride, if proved—as it seems to +me to be. The nations who have influenced the world’s +destiny have not been great, in the modern American sense of +‘big;’ but great in heart, as our forefathers +were. The Greeks were but a handful at Salamis; so were the +Romans of the Republic; so were the Spaniards of America; so, +probably, were the Aztecs and Incas whom they overthrew; and +surely our own conquerors and re-conquerers of Hindostan have +shewn enough that it is not numbers, but soul, which gives a race +the power to rule.</p> +<p>Neither need we object to Dr. Latham’s opinion, that +more than one of the tribes which took part in the destruction of +the Empire were not aboriginal Germans, but Sclavonians +Germanized, and under German leaders. It may be so. +The custom of enslaving captives would render pure Teutonic blood +among the lower classes of a tribe the exception and not the +rule; while the custom of chiefs choosing the +‘thegns,’ ‘gesitha,’ or +‘comites,’ who lived and died as their +companions-in-arms, from among the most valiant of the unfree, +would tend to produce a mixed blood in the upper classes also, +and gradually assimilate the whole mass to the manners and laws +of their Teutonic lords. Only by some such actual +superiority of the upper classes to the lower can I explain the +deep respect for rank and blood, which distinguishes, and will +perhaps always distinguish, the Teutonic peoples. Had there +even been anything like a primæval equality among our race, +a hereditary aristocracy could never have arisen, or if arising +for a while, never could have remained as a fact which all +believed in, from the lowest to the highest. Just, or +unjust, the institution represented, I verily believe, an +ethnological fact. The golden-haired hero said to his +brown-haired bondsman, ‘I am a gentleman, who have a +“gens,” a stamm, a pedigree, and know from whom I am +sprung. I am a Garding, an Amalung, a Scylding, an Osing, +or what not. I am a son of the gods. The blood of the +Asas is in my veins. Do you not see it? Am I not +wiser, stronger, more virtuous, more beautiful than you? +You must obey me, and be my man, and follow me to the +death. Then, if you prove a worthy thane, I will give you +horse, weapons, bracelets, lands; and marry you, it may be, to my +daughter or my niece. And if not, you must remain a son of +the earth, grubbing in the dust of which you were +made.’ And the bondsman believed him; and became his +lord’s man, and followed him to the death; and was thereby +not degraded, but raised out of selfish savagery and brute +independence into loyalty, usefulness, and self-respect. As +a fact, that is the method by which the thing was done: +done;—very ill indeed, as most human things are done; but a +method inevitable—and possibly right; till (as in England +now) the lower classes became ethnologically identical with the +upper, and equality became possible in law, simply because it +existed in fact.</p> +<p>But the part of Dr. Latham’s ‘Germania’ to +which I am bound to call most attention, because I have not +followed it, is that interesting part of the Prolegomena, in +which he combats the generally received theory, that, between the +time of Tacitus and that of Charlemagne, vast masses of Germans +had migrated southward from between the Elbe and the Vistula; and +that they had been replaced by the Sclavonians who certainly were +there in Charlemagne’s days.</p> +<p>Dr. Latham argues against this theory with a great variety of +facts and reasons. But has he not overstated his case on +some points?</p> +<p>Need the migrations necessary for this theory have been of +‘unparalleled magnitude and rapidity’?</p> +<p>As for the ‘unparalleled completeness’ on which he +lays much stress, from the fact that no remnants of Teutonic +population are found in the countries evacuated:</p> +<p>Is it the fact that ‘history only tells us of German +armies having advanced south’? Do we not find four +famous cases—the irruption of the Cimbri and Teutons into +Italy; the passage of the Danube by the Visigoths; and the +invasions of Italy first by the Ostrogoths, then by the +Lombards—in which the nations came with men, women, and +children, horses, cattle, and dogs, bag and baggage? May +not this have been the custom of the race, with its strong +feeling for the family tie; and may not this account for no +traces of them being left behind?</p> +<p>Does not Dr. Latham’s theory proceed too much on an +assumption that the Sclavonians dispossest the Teutons by +force? And is not this assumption his ground for objecting +that the movement was effected improbably ‘by that division +of the European population (the Sclavonic and Lithuanian) which +has, within the historic period, receded before the +Germanic’?</p> +<p>Are these migrations, though ‘unrepresented in any +history’ (i.e. contemporaneous), really +‘unrepresented in any tradition’? Do not the +traditions of Jornandes and Paulus Diaconus, that the Goths and +the Lombards came from Scandinavia, represent this very +fact?—and are they to be set aside as naught? Surely +not. Myths of this kind generally embody a nucleus of +truth, and must be regarded with respect; for they often, after +all arguments about them are spent, are found to contain the very +pith of the matter.</p> +<p>Are the ‘phenomena of replacement and +substitution’ so very strange—I will not say upon the +popular theory, but at least on one half-way between it and Dr. +Latham’s? Namely—</p> +<p>That the Teutonic races came originally, as some of them say +they did, from Scandinavia, Denmark, the South Baltic, +&c.</p> +<p>That they forced their way down, wave after wave, on what +would have been the line of least resistance—the Marches +between the Gauls, Romanized or otherwise, and the +Sclavonians. And that the Alps and the solid front of the +Roman Empire turned them to the East, till their vanguard found +itself on the Danube.</p> +<p>This would agree with Dr. Latham’s most valuable hint, +that Markmen, ‘Men of the Marches,’ was perhaps the +name of many German tribes successively.</p> +<p>That they fought, as they went, with the Sclavonian and other +tribes (as their traditions seem to report), and rolled them back +to the eastward; and that as each Teutonic tribe past down the +line, the Sclavonians rolled back again, till the last column was +past.</p> +<p>That the Teutons also carried down with them, as slaves or +allies, a portion of this old Sclavonic population (to which Dr. +Latham will perhaps agree); and that this fact caused a hiatus, +which was gradually filled by tribes who after all were little +better than nomad hunters, and would occupy (quite nominally) a +very large tract with a small population.</p> +<p>Would not this theory agree at once tolerably with the old +traditions and with Dr. Latham’s new facts?</p> +<p>The question still remains—which is the question of +all. What put these Germanic peoples on going South? +Were there no causes sufficient to excite so desperate a +resolve?</p> +<p>(1) Did they all go? Is not Paulus Diaconus’ +story that one-third of the Lombards was to emigrate by lot, and +two-thirds remain at home, a rough type of what generally +happened—what happens now in our modern emigrations? +Was not the surplus population driven off by famine toward warmer +and more hopeful climes?</p> +<p>(2) Are not the Teutonic populations of England, North +Germany, and the Baltic, the descendants, much intermixed, and +with dialects much changed, of the portions which were left +behind? This is the opinion, I believe, of several great +ethnologists. Is it not true? If philological +objections are raised to this, I ask (but in all humility), Did +not these southward migrations commence long before the time of +Tacitus? If so, may they not have commenced before the +different Teutonic dialects were as distinct as they were in the +historic period? And are we to suppose that the dialects +did not alter during the long journeyings through many +nations? Is it possible that the Thervings and Grutungs +could have retained the same tongue on the Danube, as their +forefathers spoke in their native land? Would not the +Moeso-Gothic of Ulfilas have been all but unintelligible to the +Goth who, upon the old theory, remained in Gothland of +Sweden?</p> +<p>(3) But were there not more causes than mere want, which +sent them south? Had the peculiar restlessness of the race +nothing to do with it? A restlessness not nomadic, but +migratory: arising not from carelessness of land and home, but +from the longing to found a home in a new land, like the +restlessness of us, their children? As soon as we meet them +in historic times, they are always moving, migrating, +invading. Were they not doing the same in pre-historic +times, by fits and starts, no doubt with periods of excitement, +periods of collapse and rest? When we recollect the +invasion of the Normans; the wholesale eastward migration of the +Crusaders, men, women, and children; and the later colonization +by Teutonic peoples, of every quarter of the globe, is there +anything wonderful in the belief that similar migratory manias +may have seized the old tribes; that the spirit of Woden, +‘the mover,’ may have moved them, and forced them to +go ahead, as now? Doubtless the theory is strange. +But the Teutons were and are a strange people; so strange, that +they have conquered—one may almost say that they +are—all nations which are alive upon the globe; and we may +therefore expect them to have done strange things even in their +infancy.</p> +<p>The Romans saw them conquer the empire; and said, the good men +among them, that it was on account of their superior +virtue. But beside the virtue which made them succeed, +there must have been the adventurousness which made them +attempt. They were a people fond of +‘avanturen,’ like their descendants; and they went +out to seek them; and found enough and to spare.</p> +<p>(4) But more, had they never heard of Rome? Surely +they had, and at a very early period of the empire. We are +apt to forget, that for every discovery of the Germans by the +Romans, there was a similar discovery of the Romans by the +Germans, and one which would tell powerfully on their childish +imagination. Did not one single Kemper or Teuton return +from Marius’ slaughter, to spread among the tribes +(niddering though he may have been called for coming back alive) +the fair land which they had found, fit for the gods of Valhalla; +the land of sunshine, fruits and wine, wherein his +brothers’ and sisters’ bones were bleaching +unavenged? Did no gay Gaul of the Legion of the Lark, boast +in a frontier wine-house to a German trapper, who came in to sell +his peltry, how he himself was a gentleman now, and a civilized +man, and a Roman; and how he had followed Julius Cæsar, the +king of men, over the Rubicon, and on to a city of the like of +which man never dreamed, wherein was room for all the gods of +heaven? Did no captive tribune of Varus’ legions, led +with horrid shouts round Thor’s altar in the Teutoburger +Wald, ere his corpse was hung among the horses and goats on the +primæval oaks, turn to bay like a Roman, and tell his wild +captors of the Eternal City, and of the might of that Cæsar +who would avenge every hair upon his head with a German life; and +receive for answer a shout of laughter, and the +cry—‘You have come to us: and some day we will go to +you?’ Did no commissary, bargaining with a German for +cattle to be sent over the frontier by such a day of the week, +and teaching him to mistranslate into those names of Thor, Woden, +Freya, and so forth, which they now carry, the +Jewish-Assyrian-Roman days of the se’nnight, amuse the +simple forester by telling him how the streets of Rome were paved +with gold, and no one had anything to do there but to eat and +bathe at the public expense, and to go to the theatre, and see +20,000 gladiators fight at once? Did no German +‘Regulus,’ alderman, or king, enter Rome on an +embassy, and come back with uplifted eyes and hands, declaring +that he had seen things unspeakable—a ‘very fine +plunder,’ as Blucher said of London; and that if it were +not for the walls, they might get it all; for not only the +ladies, but the noblemen, went about in litters of silver and +gold, and wore gauze dresses, the shameless wretches, through +which you might see every limb, so that as for killing them, +there was no more fear of them than of a flock of sheep: but that +he did not see as well as he could have wished how to enter the +great city, for he was more or less the worse for liquor the +whole time, with wondrous stuff which they called wine? Or +did no captive, escaped by miracle from the butcheries of the +amphitheatre, return to tell his countrymen how all the rest had +died like German men; and call on them to rise and avenge their +brothers’ blood? Yes, surely the Teutons knew well, +even in the time of Tacitus, of the ‘micklegard,’ the +great city and all its glory. Every fresh tribe who passed +along the frontier of Gaul or of Noricum would hear more and more +of it, see more and more men who had actually been there. +If the glory of the city exercised on its own inhabitants an +intoxicating influence, as of a place omnipotent, superhuman, +divine—it would exercise (exaggerated as it would be) a +still stronger influence on the barbarians outside: and what +wonder if they pressed southwards at first in the hope of taking +the mighty city; and afterwards, as her real strength became more +known, of at least seizing some of those colonial cities, which +were as superhuman in their eyes as Rome itself would have +been? In the crusades, the children, whenever they came to +a great town, asked their parents if that was not +Jerusalem. And so, it may be, many a gallant young Teuton, +on entering for the first time such a city as Cologne, Lyons, or +Vienna, whispered half trembling to his lord—‘Surely +this must be Rome.’</p> +<p>Some such arguments as these might surely be brought in favour +of a greater migration than Dr. Latham is inclined to allow: but +I must leave the question for men of deeper research and wider +learning, than I possess.</p> +<h2>LECTURE III.—THE HUMAN DELUGE</h2> +<p>‘I have taken in hand,’ said Sir Francis Drake +once to the crew of the immortal Pelican, ‘that which I +know not how to accomplish. Yea, it hath even bereaved me +of my wits to think of it.’</p> +<p>And so I must say on the subject of this lecture. I wish +to give you some notion of the history of Italy for nearly one +hundred years; say from 400 to 500. But it is very +difficult. How can a man draw a picture of that which has +no shape; or tell the order of absolute disorder? It is all +a horrible ‘fourmillement des nations,’ like the +working of an ant-heap; like the insects devouring each other in +a drop of water. Teuton tribes, Sclavonic tribes, Tartar +tribes, Roman generals, empresses, bishops, courtiers, +adventurers, appear for a moment out of the crowd, dim +phantoms—nothing more, most of them—with a name +appended, and then vanish, proving their humanity only by leaving +behind them one more stain of blood.</p> +<p>And what became of the masses all the while? of the men, +slaves the greater part of them, if not all, who tilled the soil, +and ground the corn—for man must have eaten, then as +now? We have no hint. One trusts that God had mercy +on them, if not in this world, still in the world to come. +Man, at least, had none.</p> +<p>Taking one’s stand at Rome, and looking toward the +north, what does one see for nearly one hundred years? Wave +after wave rising out of the north, the land of night, and +wonder, and the terrible unknown; visible only as the light of +Roman civilization strikes their crests, and they dash against +the Alps, and roll over through the mountain passes, into the +fertile plains below. Then at last they are seen but too +well; and you discover that the waves are living men, women, and +children, horses, dogs, and cattle, all rushing headlong into +that great whirlpool of Italy: and yet the gulf is never +full. The earth drinks up the blood; the bones decay into +the fruitful soil; the very names and memories of whole tribes +are washed away. And the result of an immigration which may +be counted by hundreds of thousands is this—that all the +land is waste.</p> +<p>The best authorities which I can give you (though you will +find many more in Gibbon) are—for the main story, +Jornandes, De Rebus Geticis. Himself a Goth, he wrote the +history of his race, and that of Attila and his Huns, in good +rugged Latin, not without force and sense.</p> +<p>Then Claudian, the poet, a bombastic panegyrist of +contemporary Roman scoundrels; but full of curious facts, if one +could only depend on them.</p> +<p>Then the earlier books of Procopius De Bello Gothico, and the +Chronicle of Zosimus.</p> +<p>Salvian, Ennodius and Sidonius Apollinaris, as Christians, +will give you curious details, especially as to South France and +North Italy; while many particulars of the first sack of Rome, +with comments thereon which express the highest intellects of +that day, you will find in St. Jerome’s Letters, and St. +Augustine’s City of God.</p> +<p>But if you want these dreadful times <i>explained</i> to you, +I do not think you can do better than to take your Bibles, and to +read the Revelations of St. John the Apostle. I shall quote +them, more than once, in this lecture. I cannot help +quoting them. The words come naturally to my lips, as +fitter to the facts than any words of my own.</p> +<p>I do not come here to interpret the Book of Revelations. +I do not understand that book. But I do say plainly, though +I cannot interpret the book, that the book has interpreted those +times to me. Its awful metaphors give me more living and +accurate pictures of what went on than any that Gibbon’s +faithful details can give.</p> +<p>You may see, if you have spiritual eyes wherewith to see, the +Dragon, the serpent, symbol of political craft and the devilish +wisdom of the Roman, giving authority to the Beast, the symbol of +brute power; to mongrel Ætiuses and Bonifaces, barbarian +Stilichos, Ricimers and Aspars, and a host of similar +adventurers, whose only strength was force.</p> +<p>You may see the world wondering after the beast, and +worshipping brute force, as the only thing left to believe +in.</p> +<p>You may see the nations of the world gnawing their tongues for +pain, and blaspheming God, but not repenting of their deeds.</p> +<p>You may see the faith and patience of the saints—men +like Augustine, Salvian, Epiphanius, Severinus, Deogratias of +Carthage, and a host more, no doubt, whose names the world will +never hear—the salt of the earth, which kept it all from +rotting.</p> +<p>You may see Babylon the great fallen, and all the kings and +merchants of the earth bewailing her afar off, and watching the +smoke of her torment.</p> +<p>You may see, as St. John warns you, that—after her fall, +mind—if men would go on worshipping the beast, and much +more his image—the phantom and shadow of brute force, after +the reality had passed away—they should drink of the wine +of the wrath of God, and be tormented for ever. For you may +see how those degenerate Romans did go on worshipping the shadow +of brute force, and how they were tormented for ever; and had no +rest day or night, because they worshipped the Beast and his +image.</p> +<p>You may see all the fowl of the heavens flocking together to +the feast of the great God, to eat the flesh of kings and +captains, horse and rider, bond and free.—All +carrion-birds, human as well as brute—All greedy villains +and adventurers, the scoundreldom of the whole world, flocking in +to get their share of the carcass of the dying empire; as the +vulture and the raven flock in to the carrion when the royal +eagles have gorged their fill.</p> +<p>And lastly, you may see, if God give you grace, One who is +faithful and true, with a name which no man knew, save Himself, +making war in righteousness against all evil; bringing order out +of disorder, hope out of despair, fresh health and life out of +old disease and death; executing just judgment among all the +nations of the earth; and sending down from heaven the city of +God, in the light of which the nations of those who are saved +should walk, and the kings of the earth should bring their power +and their glory into it; with the tree of life in the midst of +it, whose leaves should be for the healing of the nations.</p> +<p>Again, I say, I am not here to interpret the Book of +Revelations; but this I say, that that book interprets those +times to me.</p> +<p>Leaving, for the present at least, to better historians than +myself the general subject of the Teutonic immigrations; the +conquest of North Gaul by the Franks, of Britain by the Saxons +and Angles, of Burgundy by the Burgundians, of Africa by the +Vandals, I shall speak rather of those Teutonic tribes which +actually entered and conquered Italy; and first, of course, of +the Goths. Especially interesting to us English should +their fortunes be, for they are said to be very near of kin to +us; at least to those Jutes who conquered Kent. As Goths, +Geats, Getæ, Juts, antiquarians find them in early and +altogether mythic times, in the Scandinavian peninsula, and the +isles and mainland of Denmark.</p> +<p>Their name, it is said, is the same as one name for the +Supreme Being. Goth, Guth, Yuth, signifies war. +‘God’ is the highest warrior, the Lord of hosts, and +the progenitor of the race, whether as an ‘Eponym +hero’ or as the supreme Deity. Physical force was +their rude notion of Divine power, and Tiu, Tiv, or Tyr, in like +manner, who was originally the god of the clear sky, the Zeus or +Jove of the Greeks and Romans, became by virtue of his warlike +character, identical with the Roman Mars, till the dies Martis of +the Roman week became the German Tuesday.</p> +<p>Working their way down from Gothland and Jutland, we know not +why nor when, thrusting aside the cognate Burgunds, and the +Sclavonic tribes whom they met on the road, they had spread +themselves, in the third century, over the whole South of Russia, +and westward over the Danubian Provinces, and Hungary. The +Ostrogoths (East-goths) lay from the Volga to the Borysthenes, +the Visigoths (West-goths?) from the Borysthenes to the +Theiss. Behind them lay the Gepidæ, a German tribe, +who had come south-eastward with them, and whose name is said to +signify the men who had ‘bided’ (remained) behind the +rest.</p> +<p>What manner of men they were it is hard to say, so few details +are left to us. But we may conceive them as a tall, +fair-haired people, clothed in shirts and smocks of embroidered +linen, and gaiters cross-strapped with hide; their arms and necks +encircled with gold and silver rings; the warriors, at least of +the upper class, well horsed, and armed with lance and heavy +sword, with chain-mail, and helmets surmounted with plumes, +horns, towers, dragons, boars, and the other strange devices +which are still seen on the crests of German nobles. This +much we can guess; for in this way their ancestors, or at least +relations, the War-Geats, appear clothed in the grand old song of +Beowulf. Their land must have been tilled principally by +slaves, usually captives taken in war: but the noble mystery of +the forge, where arms and ornaments were made, was an honourable +craft for men of rank; and their ladies, as in the middle age, +prided themselves on their skill with the needle and the +loom. Their language has been happily preserved to us in +Ulfilas’ Translation of the Scriptures. For these +Goths, the greater number of them at least, were by this time +Christians, or very nearly such. Good Bishop Ulfilas, +brought up a Christian and consecrated by order of Constantine +the Great, had been labouring for years to convert his adopted +countrymen from the worship of Thor and Woden. He had +translated the Bible for them, and had constructed a Gothic +alphabet for that purpose. He had omitted, however +(prudently as he considered) the books of Kings, with their +histories of the Jewish wars. The Goths, he held, were only +too fond of fighting already, and ‘needed in that matter +the bit, rather than the spur.’ He had now a large +number of converts, some of whom had even endured persecution +from their heathen brethren. Athanaric, +‘judge,’ or alderman of the Thervings, had sent +through the camp—so runs the story—the waggon which +bore the idol of Woden, and had burnt, with their tents and their +families, those who refused to worship.</p> +<p>They, like all other German tribes, were ruled over by two +royal races, sons of Woden and the Asas. The Ostrogoth race +was the Amalungs—the ‘heavenly,’ or +‘spotless’ race; the Visigoth race was the +Balthungs—the ‘bold’ or ‘valiant’ +race; and from these two families, and from a few others, but all +believed to be lineally descended from Woden, and now much +intermixed, are derived all the old royal families of Europe, +that of the House of Brunswick among the rest.</p> +<p>That they were no savages, is shewn sufficiently by their +names, at least those of their chiefs. Such names as +Alaric, ‘all rich’ or ‘all powerful,’ +Ataulf, ‘the helping father,’ Fridigern, ‘the +willing peace-maker,’ and so forth—all the names in +fact, which can be put back into their native form out of their +Romanized distortions, are tokens of a people far removed from +that barbarous state in which men are named after personal +peculiarities, natural objects, or the beasts of the field. +On this subject you may consult, as full of interest and +instruction, the list of Teutonic names given in Muratori.</p> +<p>They had broken over the Roman frontier more than once, and +taken cities. They had compelled the Emperor Gratian to buy +them off. They had built themselves flat-bottomed boats +without iron in them and sailed from the Crimea round the shores +of the Black Sea, once and again, plundering Trebizond, and at +last the temple itself of Diana at Ephesus. They had even +penetrated into Greece and Athens, plundered the Parthenon, and +threatened the capitol. They had fought the Emperor Decius, +till he, and many of his legionaries, were drowned in a bog in +the moment of victory. They had been driven with difficulty +back across the Danube by Aurelian, and walled out of the Empire +with the Allemanni by Probus’s ‘Teufels-Mauer,’ +stretching from the Danube to the Rhine. Their time was not +yet come by a hundred years. But they had seen and tasted +the fine things of the sunny south, and did not forget them amid +the steppes and snows.</p> +<p>At last a sore need came upon them. About 350 there was +a great king among them, Ermanaric, ‘the powerful +warrior,’ comparable, says Jornandes, to Alexander himself, +who had conquered all the conquered tribes around. When he +was past 100 years old, a chief of the Roxolani (Ugrians, +according to Dr. Latham; men of Ros, or Russia), one of these +tribes, plotted against him, and sent for help to the new people, +the Huns, who had just appeared on the confines of Europe and +Asia. Old Ermanaric tore the traitor’s wife to pieces +with wild horses: but the Huns came nevertheless. A magic +hind, the Goths said, guided the new people over the steppes to +the land of the Goths, and then vanished. They fought with +the Goths, and defeated them. Old Ermanaric stabbed himself +for shame, and the hearts of the Goths became as water before the +tempest of nations. They were supernatural creatures, the +Goths believed, engendered of witches and demons on the steppes; +pig-eyed hideous beings, with cakes instead of faces, +‘offam magis quam faciem,’ under ratskin caps, armed +with arrows tipped with bone, and lassos of cord, eating, +marketing, sleeping on horseback, so grown into the saddle that +they could hardly walk in their huge boots. With them were +Acatzirs, painted blue, hair as well as skin; Alans, wandering +with their waggons like the Huns, armed with heavy cuirasses of +plaited horn, their horses decked with human scalps; Geloni armed +with a scythe, wrapt in a cloak of human skin; Bulgars who +impaled their prisoners—savages innumerable as the locust +swarms. Who could stand against them?</p> +<p>In the year 375, the West Goths came down to the Danube-bank +and entreated the Romans to let them cross. There was a +Christian party among them, persecuted by the heathens, and +hoping for protection from Rome. Athanaric had vowed never +to set foot on Roman soil, and after defending himself against +the Huns, retired into the forests of +‘Caucaland.’ Good Bishop Ulfilas and his +converts looked longingly toward the Christian Empire. +Surely the Christians would receive them as brothers, welcome +them, help them. The simple German fancied a Roman even +such a one as themselves.</p> +<p>Ulfilas went on embassy to Antioch, to Valens the +Emperor. Valens, low-born, cruel, and covetous, was an +Arian, and could not lose the opportunity of making +converts. He sent theologians to meet Ulfilas, and torment +him into Arianism. When he arrived, Valens tormented him +himself. While the Goths starved he argued, apostasy was +the absolute condition of his help, till Ulfilas, in a weak +moment, gave his word that the Goths should become Arians, if +Valens would give them lands on the South bank of the +Danube. Then they would be the Emperor’s men, and +guard the marches against all foes. From that time Arianism +became the creed, not only of the Goths, but of the Vandals, the +Sueves, and almost all the Teutonic tribes.</p> +<p>It was (if the story be true) a sinful and foolish compact, +forced from a good man by the sight of his countrymen’s +extreme danger and misery. It avenged itself, soon enough, +upon both Goths and Romans.</p> +<p>To the Goths themselves the change must have seemed not only +unimportant, but imperceptible. Unaccustomed to that +accuracy of thought, which is too often sneered at by Gibbon as +‘metaphysical subtlety,’ all of which they would have +been aware was the change of a few letters in a creed written in +an unknown tongue. They could not know, (Ulfilas himself +could not have known, only two years after the death of St. +Athanasius at Alexandria; while the Nicæan Creed was as yet +received by only half of the Empire; and while he meanwhile had +been toiling for years in the Danubian wilds, ignorant perhaps of +the controversy which had meanwhile convulsed the +Church)—neither the Goths nor he, I say, could have known +that the Arianism, which they embraced, was really the last, and +as it were apologetic, refuge of dying Polytheism; that it, and +not the Catholic Faith, denied the abysmal unity of the Godhead; +that by making the Son inferior to the Father, as touching his +Godhead, it invented two Gods, a greater and a lesser, thus +denying the absoluteness, the infinity, the illimitability, by +any category of quantity, of that One Eternal, of whom it is +written, that God is a Spirit. Still less could they have +guessed that when Arius, the handsome popular preacher (whose +very name, perhaps, Ulfilas never heard) asked the fine ladies of +Alexandria—‘Had you a son before that son was +born?’—‘No.’ ‘Then God could +have no son before that son was begotten, +&c.’—that he was mingling up the idea of Time +with the idea of that Eternal God who created Time, and debasing +to the accidents of before and after that Timeless and Eternal +Generation, of which it is written, ‘Thou art my Son, this +day have I begotten thee.’ Still less could Ulfilas, +or his Goths, have known, that the natural human tendency to +condition God by Time, would be, in later ages, even long after +Arianism was crushed utterly, the parent of many a cruel, gross, +and stupid superstition. To them it would have been a mere +question whether Woden, the All-father, was superior to one of +his sons, the Asas: and the Catholic faith probably seemed to +them an impious assumption of equality, on the part of one of +those Asas, with Woden himself.</p> +<p>Of the battle between Arianism and Orthodoxy I have said +enough to shew you that I think it an internecine battle between +truth and falsehood. But it has been long ago judged by +wager of battle: by the success of that duel of time, of which we +must believe (as our forefathers believed of all fair duels) that +God defends the right.</p> +<p>So the Goths were to come over the Danube stream: but they +must give up their arms, and deliver their children (those of +rank, one supposes), as hostages, to be educated by the Romans, +as Romans.</p> +<p>They crossed the fatal river; they were whole days in +crossing; those set to count them gave it up in despair; Ammianus +says: ‘He who wishes to know their number,’</p> +<blockquote><p> ‘Libyci velit +æquoris idem<br /> +Discere quam multæ Zephyro volvuntur +arenæ.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>And when they were across, they gave up the children. +They had not the heart to give up the beloved weapons. The +Roman commissioners let them keep the arms, at the price of many +a Gothic woman’s honour. Ugly and foul things +happened, of which we have only hints. Then they had to be +fed for the time being, till they could cultivate their +land. Lupicinus and Maximus, the two governors of Thrace +pocketed the funds which Valens sent, and starved the +Goths. The markets were full of carrion and dogs’ +flesh. Anything was good enough for a barbarian. +Their fringed carpets, their beautiful linens, all went. A +little wholesome meat cost 10 pounds of silver. When all +was gone, they had to sell their children. To establish a +slave-trade in the beautiful boys and girls was just what the +wicked Romans wanted.</p> +<p>At last the end came. They began to rise. +Fridigern, their king, kept them quiet till the time was ripe for +revenge. The Romans, trying to keep the West Goths down, +got so confused, it seems, that they let the whole nation of the +East Goths (of whom we shall hear more hereafter) dash across the +Danube, and establish themselves in the north of the present +Turkey, to the east of the West Goths.</p> +<p>Then at Marcianopolis, the capital of Lower Moesia, Lupicinus +asked Fridigern and his chiefs to a feast. The starving +Goths outside were refused supplies from the market, and came to +blows with the guards. Lupicinus, half drunk, heard of it, +and gave orders for a massacre. Fridigern escaped from the +palace, sword in hand. The smouldering embers burst into +flame, the war-cry was raised, and the villain Lupicinus fled for +his life.</p> +<p>Then began war south of the Danube. The Roman legions +were defeated by the Goths, who armed themselves with the weapons +of the dead. Moesia was overrun with fire and sword. +Adrianople was attacked, but in vain. The slaves in the +gold mines were freed from their misery, and shewed the Goths the +mountain-passes and the stores of grain. As they went on, +the Goths recovered their children. The poor things told +horrid tales; and the Goths, maddened, avenged themselves on the +Romans of every age and sex. ‘They left,’ says +St. Jerome, ‘nothing alive—not even the beasts of the +field; till nothing was left but growing brambles and thick +forests.’</p> +<p>Valens, the Emperor, was at Antioch. Now he hurried to +Constantinople, but too late. The East Goths had joined the +West Goths; and hordes of Huns, Alans, and Taifalæ +(detestable savages, of whom we know nothing but evil) had joined +Fridigern’s confederacy.</p> +<p>Gratian, Valens’ colleague and nephew, son of +Valentinian the bear-ward, had just won a great victory over the +Allemanni at Colmar in Alsace; and Valens was jealous of his +glory. He is said to have been a virtuous youth, whose +monomania was shooting. He fell in love with the wild +Alans, in spite of their horse-trappings of scalps, simply +because of their skill in archery; formed a body-guard of them, +and passed his time hunting with them round Paris. +Nevertheless, he won this great victory by the help, it seems, of +one Count Ricimer (‘ever-powerful’), Count of the +Domestics, whose name proclaims him a German.</p> +<p>Valens was jealous of Gratian’s fame; he was stung by +the reproaches of the mob of Constantinople; and he undervalued +the Goths, on account of some successes of his lieutenants, who +had recovered much of the plunder taken by them, and had utterly +overpowered the foul Taifalæ, transporting them to lands +about Modena and Parma in Italy. He rejected Count +Ricimer’s advice to wait till Gratian reinforced him with +the victorious western legions, and determined to give battle a +few miles from Adrianople. Had he waited for Gratian, the +history of the whole world might have been different.</p> +<p>For on the ninth of August, A.D. 378, the fatal day, the +second Cannæ, from which Rome never recovered as from that +first, the young world and the old world met, and fought it out; +and the young world won. The light Roman cavalry fled +before the long lances and heavy swords of the German +knights. The knights turned on the infantry, broke them, +hunted them down by charge after charge, and left the footmen to +finish the work.</p> +<p>Two-thirds of the Roman army were destroyed; four Counts of +the Empire; generals and officers without number. Valens +fled wounded to a cottage. The Goths set it on fire, and +burned him and his staff therein, ignorant that they had in their +hands the Emperor of Rome. Verily there is a God who +judgeth the earth.</p> +<p>So thought the Catholics of that day, who saw in the fearful +death of Valens a punishment for his having forced the Goths to +become Arians. ‘It was just,’ says one, +‘that he should burn on earth, by whose counsels so many +barbarians will burn in hell for ever.’ There are (as +I have shewn) still darker counts in the conduct of the Romans +toward the Goths; enough (if we believe our Bibles) to draw down +on the guilty the swift and terrible judgments of God.</p> +<p>At least, this was the second Cannæ, the death-wound of +Rome. From that day the end was certain, however +slow. The Teuton had at last tried his strength against the +Roman. The wild forest-child had found himself suddenly at +death-grips with the Enchanter whom he had feared, and almost +worshipped, for so long; and behold, to his own wonder, he was no +more a child, but grown into a man, and the stronger, if not the +cunninger of the two. There had been a spell upon him; the +‘Romani nominis umbra.’ But from that day the +spell was broken. He had faced a Roman Emperor, a Divus +Cæsar, the man-god by whose head all nations swore, rich +with the magic wealth, wise with the magic cunning, of centuries +of superhuman glory; and he had killed him, and behold he died, +like other men. That he had done. What was there left +for him now that he could not do?</p> +<p>The stronger he was, but not yet the cunninger of the +two. The Goths could do no more. They had to leave +Adrianople behind them, with the Emperor’s treasures safe +within its walls; to gaze with childish wonder at the Bosphorus +and its palaces; to recoil in awe from the ‘long +walls’ of Constantinople, and the great stones which the +engines thereon hurled at them by ‘arsmetricke and +nigromancy,’ as their descendants believed of the Roman +mechanicians, even five hundred years after; to hear (without +being able to avenge) the horrible news, that the Gothic lads +distributed throughout Asia, to be educated as Romans, had been +decoyed into the cities by promises of lands and honours, and +then massacred in cold blood; and then to settle down, leaving +their children unavenged, for twenty years on the rich land which +we now call Turkey in Europe, waiting till the time was come.</p> +<p>Waiting, I say, till the time was come. The fixed idea +that Rome, if not Constantinople, could be taken at last, +probably never left the minds of the leading Goths after the +battle of Adrianople. The altered policy of the +Cæsars was enough of itself to keep that idea alive. +So far from expelling them from the country which they had +seized, the new Emperor began to flatter and to honour them.</p> +<p>They had been heretofore regarded as savages, either to be +driven back by main force, or tempted to enlist in the Roman +ranks. Theodosius regarded them as a nation, and one which +it was his interest to hire, to trust, to indulge at the expense +of his Roman subjects.</p> +<p>Theodosius has received the surname of Great—seemingly +by comparison; ‘Inter cæcos luscus rex;’ and it +was highly creditable to a Roman Emperor in those days to be +neither ruffian nor villain, but a handsome, highbred, courteous +gentleman, pure in his domestic life, an orthodox Christian, and +sufficiently obedient to the Church to forgive the monks who had +burnt a Jewish synagogue, and to do penance in the Cathedral of +Milan for the massacre of Thessalonica. That the morals of +the Empire (if Zosimus is to be at all believed) grew more and +more effeminate, corrupt, reckless; that the soldiers (if +Vegetius is to be believed) actually laid aside, by royal +permission, their helmets and cuirasses, as too heavy for their +degenerate bodies; that the Roman heavy infantry, which had +conquered the world, ceased to exist, while its place was taken +by that Teutonic heavy cavalry, which decided every battle in +Europe till the English yeoman, at Crecy and Poictiers, turned +again the balance of arms in favour of the men who fought on +foot; that the Goths became the ‘fœderati’ or +allies of the Empire, paid to fight its battles against Maximus +the Spaniard, and Arbogast the Frank, the rebels who, after the +murder of young Gratian, attempted to set up a separate empire in +the west; that Stilicho the Vandal was the Emperor’s +trusted friend, and master of the horse; that Alaric the Balth, +and other noble Goths, were learning to combine with their native +courage those Roman tactics which they only needed to become +masters of the world; that in all cities, even in the Royal +Palace, the huge Goth swaggered in Roman costume, his neck and +arms heavy with golden torcs and bracelets; or even (as in the +case of Fravitta and Priulf) stabbed his enemy with impunity at +the imperial table; that κινειν +το +Σκυθικον, to +disturb the Goths, was a deadly offence throughout the Empire: +all these things did not prevent a thousand new statues from +rising in honour of the great Cæsar, and excited nothing +more than grumblings of impotent jealousy from a people whose +maxim had become, ‘Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we +die.’</p> +<p>Three anecdotes will illustrate sufficiently the policy of +Theodosius toward his inconvenient guests. Towards the +beginning of his reign, when the Goths, after the death of the +great Fridigern, were broken up, and quarreling among themselves, +he tempted a royal Amal, Modar by name, by the title of +Master-General, to attack and slaughter in their sleep a rival +tribe of Goths, and carry off an immense spoil to the imperial +camp. To destroy the German by the German was so old a +method of the Roman policy, that it was not considered derogatory +to the ‘greatness’ of Theodosius.</p> +<p>The old Athanaric, the Therving—he who had sworn never +to set foot on Roman soil, and had burnt them who would not fall +down and worship before Woden’s waggon, came over the +Danube, out of the forests of ‘Caucaland,’ and put +himself at the head of the Goths. The great Cæsar +trembled before the heathen hero; and they made peace together; +and old Athanaric went to him at Constantinople, and they became +as friends. And the Romani nominis umbra, the glamour of +the Roman name, fell on the old man, too feeble now to fight; and +as he looked, says Jornandes, on the site of the city, and on the +fleets of ships, and the world-famous walls, and the people from +all the nations upon earth, he said, ‘Now I behold what I +have often heard tell, and never believed. The Kaiser is a +God on earth, and he who shall lift his hand against him, is +guilty of his own blood.’ The old hero died in +Constantinople, and the really good-natured Emperor gave him a +grand funeral, and a statue, and so delighted the simple Goths, +that the whole nation entered his service bodily, and became the +Emperor’s men.</p> +<p>The famous massacre of Thessalonica, and the penance of +Theodosius, immortalized by the pencil of Vandyke, is another +significant example of the relation between Goth and Roman. +One Botheric (a Vandal or other Teuton by his name) was military +commandant of that important post. He put in prison a +popular charioteer of the circus, for a crime for which the +Teutonic language had to borrow a foreign name, and which the +Teutons, like ourselves, punished with death, though it was +committed with impunity in any Roman city. At the public +games, the base mob clamoured, but in vain, for the release of +their favourite; and not getting him, rose on Botheric, murdered +him and his officers, and dragged their corpses through the +streets.</p> +<p>This was indeed κινειν +το +Σκυθικον; and +Theodosius, partly in honest indignation, partly perhaps in fear +of the consequences, issued orders from Milan which seem to have +amounted to a permission to the Goths to avenge themselves. +The populace were invited as usual to the games of the circus, +and crowded in, forgetful of their crime, heedless of danger, +absorbed in the one greed of frivolous, if not sinful +pleasure. The Gothic troops concealed around entered, and +then began a ‘murder grim and great.’ For three +hours it lasted. Every age and sex, innocent or guilty, +native or foreigner, to the number of at least 7,000, perished, +or are said to have perished; and the soul of Botheric had +‘good company on its way to Valhalla.’</p> +<p>The Goths, doubtless, considered that they were performing an +act of public justice upon villains: but the Bishops of the +Church looked at the matter in another light. The +circumstances of treachery, the confusion of the innocent with +the guilty, the want of any judicial examination and sentence, +aroused their sense of humanity and justice. The offence +was aggravated by the thought that the victims were Roman and +orthodox, the murderers barbarians and Arians; St. Ambrose, with +a noble courage, stopped the Emperor at the door of the Basilica +of Milan, and forbad him to enter, till he had atoned for the +fatal order by public penance. The Cæsar submitted +nobly to the noble demand; and the repentance of Theodosius is +the last scene in the downward career of the Cæsars, which +can call forth a feeling of admiration and respect.</p> +<p>In January 395 Theodosius died; and after him came the +deluge.</p> +<p>The Empire was parted between his two worthless sons. +Honorius had the west, Arcadius the east; while the real master +of the Empire was Stilicho the Vandal, whose virtues and valour +and mighty stature are sung (and not undeservedly) in the pompous +verses of Claudian. Of the confusion which ensued; of the +murder (well-deserved) of Rufinus, the infamous minister whose +devout hypocrisy had so long cajoled Theodosius; of the revolt +and atrocities of Gildo in Africa, you must read in the pages of +Gibbon. These lectures confine themselves, at present, to +the history of the Goths.</p> +<p>In January 395, I said, Theodosius died. Before the end +of the winter the Goths were in arms, with Alaric the Balth at +their head. They had been refused, at least for the time, +the payment of their usual subsidy. He had been refused the +command of the Roman armies. Any excuse was +sufficient. The fruit was ripe for plucking. The +wrongs of centuries were to be avenged. Other tribes crost +the Danube on the ice, and joined the Goths; and the mighty host +swept down through Greece, passing Thermopylæ unopposed, +ransoming Athens (where Alaric enjoyed a Greek bath and a public +banquet, and tried to behave for a day like a Roman gentleman); +sacking Corinth, Argos, Sparta, and all the cities and villages +far and wide, and carrying off plunder inestimable, and troops of +captive women.</p> +<p>Stilicho threw himself into the Peloponnese at Corinth to cut +off the Goths, and after heavy fighting, Alaric, who seems to +have been a really great general, out-manoeuvred him, crost the +Gulf of Corinth at Rhium, with all his plunder and captives, and +got safe away into northern Greece.</p> +<p>There Arcadius, the terrified Emperor of the East, punished +him for having devastated Greece, by appointing him +Master-General of the very country which he had ravaged. +The end was coming very near. The Goths lifted him on the +shield, and proclaimed him King of the West Goths; and there he +staid, somewhere about the head of the Adriatic, poised like an +eagle in mid-air, watching Rome on one side, and Byzant on the +other, uncertain on which quarry he should swoop.</p> +<p>He made up his mind for Rome. He would be the man to do +the deed at last. There was a saga in which he +trusted. Claudian gives it in an hexameter,</p> +<blockquote><p>‘Alpibus Italiæ ruptis penetrabis ad +urbem.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Yes, he would take The City, and avenge the treachery of +Valens, and all the wrongs which Teutons had endured from the +Romans for now four centuries. And he did it.</p> +<p>But not the first time. He swept over the Alps. +Honorius fled to Asta, and Alaric besieged him there. The +faithful Stilicho came to the rescue; and Alaric was driven to +extremities. His warriors counselled him to retreat. +No, he would take Rome, or die. But at Pollentia, Stilicho +surprised him, while he and his Goths were celebrating Easter +Sunday, and a fearful battle followed. The Romans stormed +his camp, recovered the spoils of Greece, and took his wife, +decked in the jewels in which she meant to enter Rome. One +longs to know what became of her.</p> +<p>At least, so say the Romans: the Goths tell a very different +story; and one suspects that Pollentia may be one more of those +splendid paper victories, in which the Teutons were utterly +exterminated, only to rise out of the ground, seemingly stronger +and more numerous than ever. At least, instead of turning +his head to the Alps, he went on toward Rome. Stilicho +dared not fight him again, and bought him off. He turned +northward toward Gaul, and at Verona Stilicho got him at an +advantage, and fought him once more, and if we are to believe +Rosino and Claudian, beat him again. ‘Taceo de +Alarico, sæpe victo, sæpe concluso, semperque +dimisso.’ ‘It is ill work trapping an +eagle,’ says some one. When you have caught him, the +safest thing very often is to let him go again.</p> +<p>Meanwhile poured down into Italy, as far as Florence (a merely +unimportant episode in those fearful days), another wave of +German invaders under one Radogast, 200,000 strong. Under +the walls of Florence they sat down, and perished of wine, and +heat, and dysentery. Like water they flowed in, and like +water they sank into the soil: and every one of them a human +soul.</p> +<p>Stilicho and Honorius went to Rome, and celebrated their +triumph over the Goths, with (for the last time in history) +gladiatorial sports. Three years past, and then Stilicho +was duly rewarded for having saved Rome, in the approved method +for every great barbarian who was fool enough to help the +treacherous Roman; namely, by being murdered.</p> +<p>Alaric rose instantly, and with him all the Gothic +tribes. Down through Italy he past, almost without striking +a blow. Ravenna, infamous, according to Sidonius, for its +profligacy, where the Emperor’s court was, he past +disdainfully, and sat down before the walls of Rome. He did +not try to storm it. Probably he could not. He had no +such machines, as those with which the Romans battered +walls. Quietly he sat, he and his Goths, ‘as wolves +wait round the dying buffalo;’ waiting for the Romans +within to starve and die. They did starve and die; men +murdered each other for food; mothers ate their own babes; but +they sent out embassies, boasting of their strength and +numbers. Alaric laughed,—‘The thicker the hay, +the easier it is mowed.’ What terms would he +take? ‘All your gold, all your silver, the best of +your precious things. All your barbarian +slaves.’ That last is significant. He would +deliver his own flesh and blood. The Teuton man should be +free. The trolls should drag no more of the forest children +into their accursed den. ‘What then will you leave +us?’ ‘Your lives.’</p> +<p>They bought him off with a quaint ransom: 5000 pounds weight +of gold, 30,000 of silver, 4000 robes of silk, 3000 pieces of +scarlet cloth, and 3000 lbs. of pepper, possibly spices of all +kinds. Gold, and finery, and spices—gifts fit for +children, such as those Goths were.</p> +<p>But he got, too, 40,000 Teuton slaves safe out of the evil +place, and embodied them into his army. He had now 100,000 +fighting men. Why did he not set up as king of Italy? +Was it that the awe of the place, the prestige of the Roman name, +cowed him? It cowed each of the Teutonic invaders +successively. To make themselves emperors of Rome was a +thing of which they dared not dream. Be that as it may, all +he asked was, to be received as some sort of vassal of the +Emperor. The Master-Generalship of Italy, subsidies for his +army, an independent command in the Tyrolese country, whence he +had come, were his demand.</p> +<p>Overblown with self-conceit, the Romans refused him. +They would listen to no conditions. They were in a +thoroughly Chinese temper. You will find the Byzantine +empire in the same temper centuries after; blinded to present +weakness by the traditions of their forefathers’ +strength. They had worshipped the beast. Now that +only his image was left, they worshipped that.</p> +<p>Alaric seized Ostia, and cut off their supplies. They +tried to appease him by dethroning Honorius, and setting up some +puppet Attalus. Alaric found him plotting; or said that he +had done so; and degraded him publicly at Rimini before his whole +army. Again he offered peace. The insane Romans +proclaimed that his guilt precluded him for ever from the +clemency of the Empire.</p> +<p>Then came the end. He marched on Rome. The +Salarian gate was thrown open at midnight, probably by German +slaves within; and then, for five dreadful days and nights, the +wicked city expiated in agony the sins of centuries.</p> +<p>And so at last the Nibelungen hoard was won.</p> +<p>‘And the kings of the earth who had lived delicately +with her, and the merchants of the earth who were made rich by +her, bewailed her, standing afar off for the fear of her torment, +and crying, Alas! alas, that great Babylon! for in one hour is +thy judgment come.’</p> +<p>St. John passes in those words from the region of symbol to +that of literal description. A great horror fell upon all +nations, when the news came. Rome taken? Surely the +end of all things was at hand. The wretched fugitives +poured into Egypt and Syria—especially to Jerusalem; +perhaps with some superstitious hope that Christ’s tomb, or +even Christ himself, might save them.</p> +<p>St. Jerome, as he saw day by day patrician men and women who +had passed their lives in luxury, begging their bread around his +hermitage at Bethlehem, wrote of the fall of Rome as a man +astonied.</p> +<p>St. Augustine, at Hippo, could only look on it as the end of +all human power and glory, perhaps of the earth itself. +Babylon the great had fallen, and now Christ was coming in the +clouds of heaven to set up the city of God for ever. In +that thought he wrote his De Civitate Dei. Read it, +gentlemen—especially you who are to be priests—not +merely for its details of the fall of Rome, but as the noblest +theodicy which has yet proceeded from a human pen.</p> +<p>Followed by long trains of captives, long trains of waggons +bearing the spoils of all the world, Alaric went on South, +‘with the native instinct of the barbarian,’ as Dr. +Sheppard well says. Always toward the sun. Away from +Muspelheim and the dark cold north, toward the sun, and Valhalla, +where Odin and the Asas dwell in everlasting light.</p> +<p>He tried to cross into Sicily: but a storm wrecked his boats, +and the Goths were afraid of the sea. And after a while he +died. And the wild men made a great mourning over +him. They had now no plan left; no heart to go south, and +look for Odin over the sea. But of one thing they were +resolved, that the base Romans should not dig up Alaric out of +his barrow and scatter his bones to the winds.</p> +<p>So they put no barrow over the great king; but under the walls +of Cosenza they turned the river-bed, and in that river-bed they +set Alaric, armed and mailed, upright upon his horse, with gold, +and jewels, and arms, and it may be captive youths and maids, +that he might enter into Valhalla in royal pomp, and make a +worthy show among the heroes in Odin’s hall. And then +they turned back the river into its bed, and slew the slaves who +had done the work, that no man might know where Alaric lies: and +no man does know till this day.</p> +<p>As I said, they had no plan left now. Two years they +stayed in Campania, basking in the villas and gardens, drinking +their fill of the wine; and then flowed away northward again, no +one knows why. They had no wish to settle, as they might +have done. They followed some God-given instinct, +undiscoverable now by us. Ataulf, Alaric’s kinsman, +married Placidia, the Emperor’s beautiful young sister, and +accepted from him some sort of commission to fight against his +enemies in Gaul. So to the south of Gaul they went, and +then into Spain, crushing before them Alans, Sueves, and Vandals, +and quarrelling among themselves. Ataulf was murdered, and +all his children; Placidia put to shame. Then she had her +revenge. To me it is not so much horrible as pitiful. +They had got the Nibelungen hoard; and with it the Nibelungen +curse.</p> +<p>A hundred years afterwards, when the Franks pillaged the +Gothic palace of Narbonne, they found the remnants of it. +Things inestimable, indescribable; tables of solid emerald; the +Missorium, a dish 2500 lbs. weight, covered with all the gems of +India. They had been in Solomon’s Temple, fancied the +simple Franks—as indeed some of them may well have +been. The Arabs got the great emerald table at last, with +its three rows of great pearls. Where are they all +now? What is become, gentlemen, of the treasures of +Rome? Jewels, recollect, are all but indestructible; +recollect, too, that vast quantities were buried from time to +time, and their places forgotten. Perhaps future +generations will discover many such hoards. Meanwhile, many +of those same jewels must be in actual use even now. Many a +gem which hangs now on an English lady’s wrist saw Alaric +sack Rome—and saw before and since—What not? +The palaces of the Pharaohs, or of Darius; then the pomp of the +Ptolemies, or of the Seleucids—came into Europe on the neck +of some vulgar drunken wife of a Roman proconsul, to glitter for +a few centuries at every gladiator’s butchery in the +amphitheatre; then went away with Placidia on a Gothic ox-waggon, +to pass into an Arab seraglio at Seville; and then, perhaps, back +from Sultan to Sultan again to its native India, to figure in the +peacock-throne of the Great Mogul, and be bought at last by some +Armenian for a few rupees from an English soldier, and come +hither—and whither next? When England shall be what +Alexandria and Rome are now, that little stone will be as bright +as ever.—An awful symbol, if you will take it so, of the +permanence of God’s works and God’s laws, amid the +wild chance and change of sinful man.</p> +<p>Then followed for Rome years of peace,—such peace as the +wicked make for themselves—A troubled sea, casting up mire +and dirt. Wicked women, wicked counts (mayors of the +palace, one may call them) like Aetius and Boniface, the real +rulers of a nominal Empire.</p> +<p>Puppet Valentinian succeeded his father, puppet +Honorius. In his days appeared another great +portent—another comet, sweeping down out of infinite space, +and back into infinite space again.—Attila and his +Huns. They lay in innumerable hordes upon the Danube, until +Honoria, Valentinian’s sister, confined in a convent at +Constantinople for some profligacy, sent her ring to +Attila. He must be her champion, and deliver her. He +paused a while, like Alaric before him, doubting whether to dash +on Constantinople or Rome, and at last decided for Rome. +But he would try Gaul first; and into Gaul he poured, with all +his Tartar hordes, and with them all the Teuton tribes, who had +gathered in his progress, as an avalanche gathers the snow in its +course. At the great battle of Châlons, in the year +451, he fought it out: Hun, Sclav, Tartar, and Finn, backed by +Teutonic Gepid and Herule, Turkling, East Goth and Lombard, +against Roman and West Goth, Frank and Burgund, and the Bretons +of Armorica. Wicked Aetius shewed himself that day, as +always, a general and a hero—the Marlborough of his +time—and conquered. Attila and his hordes rolled away +eastward, and into Italy for Rome.</p> +<p>That is the Hunnenschlacht; ‘a battle,’ as +Jornandes calls it, ‘atrox, multiplex, immane, +pertinax.’ Antiquity, he says, tells of nothing like +it. No man who had lost that sight could say that he had +seen aught worth seeing.—A fight gigantic, supernatural in +vastness and horror, and the legends which still hang about the +place. You may see one of them in Von Kaulbach’s +immortal design—the ghosts of the Huns and the ghosts of +the Germans rising from their graves on the battle-night in every +year, to fight it over again in the clouds, while the country far +and wide trembles at their ghostly hurrah. No wonder men +remember that Hunnenschlacht. Many consider that it saved +Europe; that it was one of the decisive battles of the world.</p> +<p>Not that Attila was ruined. Within the year he had swept +through Germany, crossed the Alps, and devastated Italy almost to +the walls of Rome. And there the great Pope Leo, ‘the +Cicero of preaching, the Homer of theology, the Aristotle of true +philosophy,’ met the wild heathen: and a sacred horror fell +upon Attila, and he turned, and went his way, to die a year or +two after no man knows how. Over and above his innumerable +wives, he took a beautiful German girl. When his people +came in the morning, the girl sat weeping, or seeming to weep; +but Etzel, the scourge of God, lay dead in a pool of gore. +She said that he had burst a blood-vessel. The Teutons +whispered among themselves, that like a free-born Teuton, she had +slain her tyrant. One longs to know what became of her.</p> +<p>And then the hordes broke up. Ardarich raised the Teuton +Gepids and Ostrogoths. The Teutons who had obeyed Attila, +turned on their Tartar conquerors, the only people who had ever +subdued German men, and then only by brute force of overpowering +numbers. At Netad, upon the great plain between the Drave +and the Danube, they fought the second Hunnenschlacht, and the +Germans conquered. Thirty thousand Huns fell on that +dreadful day, and the rest streamed away into the heart of Asia, +into the infinite unknown deserts from whence the foul miscreants +had streamed forth, and left the Teutons masters of the +world. The battle of Netad; that, and not Châlons, to +my mind, was the saving battle of Europe.</p> +<p>So Rome was saved; but only for a few years. Puppet +Valentinian rewarded Aetius for saving Rome, by stabbing with his +own hand in his own palace, the hero of Châlons; and then +went on to fill up the cup of his iniquity. It is all more +like some horrible romance than sober history. Neglecting +his own wife Eudoxia, he took it into his wicked head to ravish +her intimate friend, the wife of a senator. Maximus stabbed +him, retaliated on the beautiful empress, and made himself +Emperor. She sent across the seas to Africa, to Genseric +the Vandal, the cruel tyrant and persecutor. He must come +and be her champion, as Attila had been Honoria’s. +And he came, with Vandals, Moors, naked Ausurians from the +Atlas. The wretched Romans, in their terror, tore Maximus +in pieces; but it was too late. Eudoxia met Genseric at the +gates in royal robes and jewels. He stript her of her +jewels on the spot, and sacked Rome; and that was her reward.</p> +<p>This is the second sack. More dreadful far than the +first—455 is its date. Then it was that the statues, +whose fragments are still found, were hurled in vain on the +barbarian assailants. Not merely gold and jewels, but the +art-treasures of Rome were carried off to the Vandal fleet, and +with them the golden table and the seven-branched candlestick +which Titus took from the Temple of Jerusalem.</p> +<p>How had these things escaped the Goths forty years +before? We cannot tell. Perhaps the Gothic sack, +which only lasted five days, was less complete than this one, +which went on for fourteen days of unutterable horrors. The +plunderers were not this time sturdy honest Goths; not even +German slaves, mad to revenge themselves on their masters: they +were Moors, Ausurian black savages, and all the pirates and +cut-throats of the Mediterranean.</p> +<p>Sixty thousand prisoners were carried off to Carthage. +All the statues were wrecked on the voyage to Africa, and lost +for ever.</p> +<p>And yet Rome did not die. She lingered on; her Emperor +still calling himself an Emperor, her senate a senate; feeding +her lazy plebs, as best she could, with the remnant of those +revenues which former Emperors had set aside for their +support—their public bread, public pork, public oil, public +wine, public baths,—and leaving them to gamble and quarrel, +and listen to the lawyers in rags and rascality, and to rise and +murder ruler after ruler, benefactor after benefactor, out of +base jealousy and fear of any one less base than +themselves. And so ‘the smoke of her torment went up +continually.’</p> +<p>But if Rome would not die, still less would she repent; as it +is written—‘The remnant of the people repented not of +their deeds, but gnawed their tongues for pain, and blasphemed +the God of heaven.’</p> +<p>As the century runs on, the confusion becomes more and more +dreadful. Anthemius, Olybrius, Orestes, and the other +half-caste Romans with Greek names who become quasi-emperors and +get murdered; Ricimer the Sueve, the king-maker and +king-murderer; even good Majorian, who as puppet Emperor set up +by Ricimer, tries to pass a few respectable laws, and is only +murdered all the sooner. None of these need detain +us. They mean nothing, they represent no idea, they are +simply kites and crows quarrelling over the carcase, and cannot +possibly teach us anything, but the terrible lesson, that in all +revolutions the worst men are certain to rise to the top.</p> +<p>But only for a while, gentlemen, only for a while. +Villany is by its very essence self-destructive, and if rogues +have their day, the time comes when rogues fall out, and honest +men come by their own.</p> +<p>That day, however, was not come for wretched Rome. A +third time she was sacked by Ricimer her own general; and then +more villains ruled her; and more kites and crows plundered +her. The last of them only need keep us a while. He +is Odoacer, the giant Herule, Houd-y-wacker, as some say his name +really is, a soubriquet perhaps from his war-cry, ‘Hold ye +stoutly,’ ‘Stand you steady.’ His father +was Ædecon, Attila’s secretary, chief of the little +Turkling tribe, who, though Teutonic, had clung faithfully to +Attila’s sons, and after the battle of Netad, came to +ruin. There are strange stories of Odoacer. One from +the Lives of St. Severinus, how Odoacer and his brothers started +over the Alps, knapsacks at back, to seek their fortunes in +Italy, and take service with the Romans; and how they came to St. +Severinus’ cell near Vienna, and went in, heathens as they +probably were, to get a blessing from the holy hermit; and how +Odoacer had to stoop, and stand stooping, so huge he was. +And how the saint saw that he was no common lad, and said, +‘Go into Italy, clothed in thy ragged sheep-skins: thou +shalt soon give greater gifts to thy friends.’ So he +went, and his brother with him. One of them at least ought +to interest us. He was Onulf, Hunwulf, Wulf, Guelph, the +Wolf-cub, who went away to Constantinople, and saw strange +things, and did strange things likewise, and at last got back to +Germany, and settled in Bavaria, and became the ancestor of all +the Guelphs, and of Victoria, queen of England. His son, +Wulfgang, fought under Belisarius against the Goths; his son +again, Ulgang, under Belisarius against Persian and Lombard; his +son or grandson was Queen Brunhilda’s confidant in France, +and became Duke of Burgundy; and after that the fortunes of his +family were mixed up with the Merovingian kings of France, and +then again with the Lombards in Italy, till one of them emerges +as Guelf, count of Altorf, the ancestor of our Guelphic line.</p> +<p>But to return to Odoacer. He came to Rome, seeking his +fortune. There he found in power Orestes, his +father’s old colleague at Attila’s court, the most +unprincipled turn-coat of his day; who had been the +Emperor’s man, then Attila’s man, and would be +anybody’s man if needed: but who was now his own man, being +king-maker for the time being, and father of the puppet Emperor, +Romulus Augustulus, a pretty little lad, with an ominous +name.</p> +<p>Odoacer took service under Orestes in the bodyguards, became a +great warrior and popular; watched his time; and when Orestes +refused the mercenaries, Herules, Rugians, Scyrings, Turklings +and Alans—all the weak or half-caste frontier tribes who +had as yet little or no share in the spoils of Italy—their +demand of the third of the lands of Italy, he betrayed his +benefactor; promised the mercenaries to do for them what Orestes +would not, and raises his famous band of confederates. At +last he called himself King of Nations, burnt Pavia, and murdered +Orestes, as a due reward for his benefits. Stript of his +purple, the last Emperor of Rome knelt crying at the feet of the +German giant, and begged not to be murdered like his +father. And the great wild beast’s hard heart smote +him, and he sent the poor little lad away, to live in wealth and +peace in Lucullus’ villa at Misenum, with plenty of money, +and women, and gewgaws, to dream away his foolish life looking +out over the fair bay of Naples—the last Emperor of +Rome.</p> +<p>Then Odoacer set to work, and not altogether ill. He +gave his confederates the third of Italy, in fief under himself +as king, and for fourteen years (not without the help of a few +more murders) he kept some sort of rude order and justice in the +wretched land. Remember him, for, bad man as he is, he does +represent a principle. He initiated, by that gift of the +lands to his soldiers, the feudal system in Italy. I do not +mean that he invented it. It seems rather to be a +primæval German form, as old as the days of Tacitus, who +describes, if you will recollect, the German war-kings as parting +the conquered lands among their ‘comites,’ thanes, or +companions in arms.</p> +<p>So we leave Odoacer king of Italy, for fourteen years, little +dreaming, perhaps, of the day when as he had done unto others so +should it be done to him. But for that tale of just and +terrible retribution you must wait till the next lecture.</p> +<p>And now, to refresh us with a gleam of wholesome humanity +after all these horrors, let us turn to our worthy West Goth +cousins for a while. They have stopt cutting each +other’s throats, settled themselves in North Spain and +South France, and good bishop Sidonius gets to like them. +They are just and honest men on the whole, kindly, and +respectable in morals, living according to their strange old +Gothic Law. But above all Sidonius likes their +king—Theodoric is his name. A man of blood he has +been in his youth: but he has settled down, like his people; and +here is a picture of him. A real photograph of a live old +Goth, nearly 1400 years ago. Gibbon gives a good +translation of it. I will give you one, but Sidonius is +prolix and florid, and I have had to condense.</p> +<p>A middle-sized, stout man, of great breadth of chest, and +thickness of limb, a large hand, and a small foot, curly haired, +bushy eye-browed, with remarkably large eyes and eyelids, +hook-nosed, thin-lipped; brilliant, cheerful, impassioned, full +of health and strength in mind and body. He goes to chapel +before day-light, sits till eight doing justice, while the crowd, +let into a latticed enclosure, is admitted one by one behind a +curtain into the presence. At eight he leaves the throne, +and goes either to count his money, or look at his horses. +If he hunts, he thinks it undignified to carry his bow, and +womanish to keep it strung, a boy carries it behind him; and when +game gets up, he asks you (or the Bishop, who seems to have gone +hunting with him) what you would wish him to aim at; strings his +bow, and then (says Sidonius) never misses his shot. He +dines at noon, quietly in general, magnificently on Saturdays; +drinks very little, and instead of sleeping after dinner, plays +at tables and dice. He is passionately fond of his game, +but never loses his temper, joking and talking to the dice, and +to every one round him, throwing aside royal severity, and +bidding all be merry (says the bishop); for, to speak my mind, +what he is afraid of is, that people should be afraid of +him. If he wins he is in immense good humour; then is the +time to ask favours of him; and, says the crafty bishop, many a +time have I lost the game, and won my cause thereby. At +three begins again the toil of state. The knockers return, +and those who shove them away return too; everywhere the +litigious crowd murmurs round; and follows him at evening, when +he goes to supper, or gets its matters settled by the officers of +the court, who have to stay there till bed-time. At supper, +though there are but rarely ‘mimici sales,’ which I +cannot translate—some sort of jesting: but biting and cruel +insults (common at the feasts of the Roman Emperors) are never +allowed. His taste in music is severe. No +water-organs, flute-player, lyrist, cymbal or harp-playing woman +is allowed. All he delights in is the old Teutonic music, +whose virtue (says the bishop) soothes the soul no less than does +its sound the ear. When he rises from table the guards for +the night are set, and armed men stand at all the doors, to watch +him through the first hours of sleep.</p> +<h2>LECTURE IV.—THE GOTHIC CIVILIZER</h2> +<p>Let us follow the fortunes of Italy and of Rome. They +are not only a type of the fortunes of the whole western world, +but the fortunes of that world, as you will see, depend on +Rome.</p> +<p>You must recollect, meanwhile, that by the middle of the fifth +century, the Western Empire had ceased to exist. The Angles +and Saxons were fighting their way into Britain. The Franks +were settled in north France and the lower Rhineland. South +of them, the centre of Gaul still remained Roman, governed by +Counts of cities, who were all but independent sovereigns, while +they confessed a nominal allegiance to the Emperor of +Constantinople. Their power was destined soon to be +annihilated by the conquests of Clovis and his Franks—as +false and cruel ruffians as their sainted king, the first-born +son of the Church. The history of Gaul for some centuries +becomes henceforth a tissue of internecine horrors, which you +must read for yourselves in the pages of M. Sismondi, or of +Gregory of Tours. The Allemanni (whose name has become +among the Franks the general name for Germans) held the lands +from the Maine to the Rhætian Alps. The Burgunds, the +lands to the south-west of them, comprising the greater part of +south-east Gaul. The West Goths held the south-west of +Gaul, and the greater part of Spain, having thrust the Sueves, +and with them some Alans, into Gallicia, Asturias, and Portugal; +and thrust, also, the Vandals across the straits of Gibraltar, to +found a prosperous kingdom along the northern shore of +Africa. The East Goths, meanwhile, after various wanderings +to the north of the Alps, lay in the present Austria and in the +Danube lands, resting after their great struggle with the Huns, +and their crowning victory of Netad.</p> +<p>To follow the fortunes of Italy, we must follow those of these +East Goths, and especially of one man among them, Theodoric, +known in German song as Dietrich of Bern or Verona.</p> +<p>Interesting exceedingly to us should this great hero be. +No man’s history better shows the strange relations between +the Teutons and the dying Empire: but more; his life is the first +instance of a Teuton attempting to found a civilized and ordered +state, upon experience drawn from Roman sources; of the young +world trying to build itself up some sort of dwelling out of the +ruins of the old. Dietrich failed, it is true. But if +the thing had been then possible, he seems to have been the man +to have done it. He lived and laboured like what he +was—a royal Amal, a true son of Woden. Unable to +write, he founded a great kingdom by native virtue and common +sense. Called a barbarian, he restored prosperity to ruined +Italy, and gave to it (and with it to the greater part of the +western world), peace for three and thirty years. Brought +up among hostile sects, he laid down that golden law of religious +liberty which the nineteenth century has not yet courage and +humanity enough to accept. But if his life was heroic, his +death was tragic. He failed after all in his vast +endeavours, from causes hidden from him, but visible, and most +instructive, to us; and after having toiled impartially for the +good of conquerors and of conquered alike, he died sadly, leaving +behind him a people who, most of them, believed gladly the news +that a holy hermit had seen his soul hurled down the crater of +Stromboli, as a just punishment for the inexpiable crime of being +wiser than his generation.</p> +<p>Some have complained of Gibbon’s +‘hero-worship’ of Dietrich—I do not. The +honest and accurate cynic so very seldom worshipped a hero, or +believed in the existence of any, that we may take his good +opinion as almost final and without appeal. One author, for +whose opinion I have already exprest a very high respect, says +that he was but a wild man of the woods to the last; polished +over skin-deep with Roman civilization; ‘Scratch him, and +you found the barbarian underneath <a name="citation101"></a><a +href="#footnote101" class="citation">[101]</a>.’ It +may be true. If it be true, it is a very high +compliment. It was not from his Roman civilization, but +from his ‘barbarian’ mother and father, that he drew +the ‘vive intelligence des choses morales, et ces +inspirations élevées et heroïques,’ +which M. Thierry truly attributes to him. If there was, as +M. Thierry truly says, another nature struggling within +him—is there not such in every man? And are not the +struggles the more painful, the temptations more dangerous, the +inconsistencies too often the more shameful, the capacities for +evil as well as for good, more huge, just in proportion to the +native force and massiveness of the soul? The doctrine may +seem dangerous. It is dangerous, like many truths; and woe +to those who, being unlearned and unstable, wrest it to their own +destruction; and presume upon it to indulge their own passions +under Byronic excuses of ‘genius,’ or ‘muscular +Christianity.’ But it is true nevertheless: so at +least the Bible tells us, in its wonderful delineations of David, +‘the man after God’s own heart,’ and of St. +Peter, the chief of the apostles. And there are points of +likeness between the character of Dietrich, and that of David, +which will surely suggest themselves to any acute student of +human nature. M. Thierry attributes to him, as his worse +self, ‘les instincts les plus violents; la cruauté, +l’astuce, l’egoïsme impitoyable.’ +The two first counts are undeniable—at least during his +youth: they were the common vices of the age. The two +latter I must hold as not proven by facts: but were they proven, +they would still be excusable, on the simple ground of his Greek +education. ‘Cunning and pitiless egotism’ were +the only moral qualities which Dietrich is likely to have seen +exercised at the court of Constantinople: and what wonder, if he +was somewhat demoralized by the abominable atmosphere which he +breathed from childhood? Dietrich is an illustration of the +saga with which these lectures began. He is the very type +of the forest child, bewitched by the fine things of the wicked +Troll garden. The key to the man’s character, indeed +the very glory of it, is the long struggle within him, between +the Teutonic and the Greek elements. Dazzled and debauched, +at times, by the sinful glories of the Bosphorus, its palaces, +its gold, and its women, he will break the spell +desperately. He will become a wild Goth and an honest man +once more; he will revenge his own degradation on that court and +empire which he knows well enough to despise, distrust and +hate. Again and again the spell comes over him. His +vanity and his passions make him once more a courtier among the +Greeks; but the blood of Odin is strong within him still; again +and again he rises, with a noble shame, to virtue and patriotism, +trampling under foot selfish luxury and glory, till the victory +is complete; and he turns away in the very moment of the greatest +temptation, from the bewitching city, to wander, fight, starve, +and at last conquer a new land for himself and for his nation; +and shew, by thirty years of justice and wisdom, what that true +Dietrich was, which had been so long overlaid by the false +Dietrich of his sinful youth.</p> +<p>Look at the facts of his history, as they stand, and see +whether they do not bear out this, and no other, theory of his +character.</p> +<p>The year was 455, two years after Attila’s death. +Near Vienna a boy was born, of Theodemir one of the Gothic kings +and his favourite Erleva. He was sent when eight years old +to Constantinople as a hostage. The Emperor Leo had agreed +to pay the Goths 300 pounds of gold every year, if they would but +leave him in peace; and young Dietrich was the pledge of the +compact. There he grew up amid all the wisdom of the +Romans, watching it all, and yet never even learning to +write. It seems to some that the German did not care to +learn; it seems to me rather that they did not care to +teach. He came back to his people at eighteen, delighted +them by his strength and stature, and became, to all appearance, +a Goth of the Goths; going adventures with six thousand +volunteers against the Sarmatæ, who had just defeated the +Greeks, and taken a city—which he retook, but instead of +restoring it to the Emperor, kept himself. Food becoming +scarce in Austria, the Ostrogoths moved some into Italy, some +down on Illyria and Thessaly; and the Emperor gracefully +presented them with the country of which they had already taken +possession.</p> +<p>In every case, you see, this method went on. The failing +Emperors bought off the Teutons where they could; submitted to +them where they could not; and readily enough turned on them when +they had a chance. The relations between the two parties +can be hardly better explained, than by comparing them to those +between the English adventurers in Hindostan and the falling +Rajahs and Sultans of the last century.</p> +<p>After a while Theodoric, or Dietrich, found himself, at his +father’s death, sole king of the Ostrogoths. This +period of his life is very obscure: but one hint at least we +have, which may explain his whole future career. Side by +side with him and with his father before him, there was another +Dietrich—Dietrich the One-eyed, son of Triar, a low-born +adventurer, who had got together the remnants of some low-caste +tribes, who were called the Goths of Thrace, and was swaggering +about the court of Constantinople, as, when the East Goths first +met him, what we call Warden of the Marches, with some annual pay +for his Goths. He was insolent to Theodemir and his family, +and they retaliated by bitter hatred. It was intolerable +for them, Amals, sons of Odin, to be insulted by this +upstart. So they went on for years, till the miserable +religious squabble fell out—you may read it in +Gibbon—which ended in the Emperor Zeno, a low-born and +cunning man, suspected of the murder of his own son by the +princess Ariadne, being driven out of Constantinople by +Basiliscus. We need not enter into such matters, except as +far as they bear on the history of Dietrich the Amal. +Dietrich the One-eyed helped Basiliscus—and then Zeno seems +to have sent for Dietrich the Amal to help him. He came, +but too late. Basiliscus’ party had already broken +up; Basiliscus and his family had taken refuge in a church, from +whence Zeno enticed him, on the promise of shedding no blood, +which he did not: but instead, put him, his wife and children, in +a dry cistern, walled it up and left them.</p> +<p>Dietrich the Amal rose into power and great glory, and became +‘son-in-arms’ to the Emperor. But the young +Amal longed for adventures. He offered to take his +Ostrogoths into Italy, drive out Odoacer, and seat on the throne +of the West, Nepos, one of the many puppets who had been hurled +off it a few years before. Zeno had need of the young hero +nearer home, and persuaded him to stay in Constantinople, eat, +drink, and be merry.</p> +<p>Whereon Odoacer made Romulus Agustulus and the Roman Senate +write to Zeno that they wanted no Emperor save him at +Constantinople; that they were very happy under the excellent +Odoacer, and that they therefore sent to Zeno, as the rightful +owner, all the Imperial insignia and ornaments; things which may +have been worn, some of them, by Augustus himself. And so +ended, even in name, the Empire of Rome. All which the Amal +saw, and, as will appear, did not forget.</p> +<p>Zeno gave the Amal all that the One-eyed had had before him, +and paid the Ostrogoths yearly as he had paid the One-eye’s +men. The One-eyed was banished to his cantonments, and of +course revolted. Zeno wanted to buy him off, but the Amal +would not hear of it; he would not help the Romans against his +rival, unless they swore perpetual enmity against him.</p> +<p>They did so, and he marched to the assistance of the wretched +Empire. He was to be met by Roman reinforcements at the +Hæmus. They never came; and the Amal, disgusted and +disheartened, found himself entangled in the defiles of the +Hæmus, starving and worn out; with the One-eyed entrenched +on an inaccessible rock, where he dared not attack him.</p> +<p>Then followed an extraordinary scene. The One-eyed came +down again and again from his rock, and rode round the +Amal’s camp, shouting to him words so true, that one must +believe them to have been really spoken.</p> +<p>‘Perjured boy, madman, betrayer of your race—do +you not see that the Roman plan is as always to destroy Goths by +Goths? Whichever of us falls, they, not we, will be the +stronger. They never met you as they promised, at the +cities, nor here. They have sent you out here to perish in +the desert.’</p> +<p>Then the East Goths raised a cry. ‘The One-eyed is +right. The Amal cares not that these men are Goths like +ourselves.’</p> +<p>Then the One-eyed appeals to the Goths themselves, as he +curses the Amal.</p> +<p>‘Why are you killing your kinsmen? Why have you +made so many widows? Where is all their wealth gone, they +who set out to fight for you? Each of them had two or three +horses: but now they are walking on foot behind you like +slaves,—free-men as well-born as yourself:—and you +promised to measure them out gold by the bushel.’</p> +<p>Was it not true? If young Dietrich had in him (and he +shewed that he had in after years) a Teuton’s heart, may +not that strange interview have opened his eyes to his own folly, +and taught him that the Teuton must be his own master, and not +the mercenary of the Romans?</p> +<p>The men cried out that it was true. He must make peace +with the One-eyed, or they would do it themselves; and peace was +made. They both sent ambassadors to Zeno; the Amal +complaining of treachery; the One-eyed demanding indemnity for +all his losses. The Emperor was furious. He tried to +buy off the Amal by marrying him to a princess of the blood +royal, and making him a Cæsar. Dietrich would not +consent; he felt that it was a snare. Zeno proclaimed the +One-eyed an enemy to the Empire; and ended by reinstating him in +his old honours, and taking them from the Amal. The Amal +became furious, burnt villages, slaughtered the peasants, even +(the Greeks say) cut off the hands of his captives. He had +broken with the Romans at last. The Roman was astride of +him, and of all Teutons, like Sindbad’s old man of the +sea. The only question, as with Sindbad, was whether he +should get drunk, and give them a chance of throwing the +perfidious tyrant. And now the time was come. He was +compelled to ask himself, not—what shall I be in relation +to myself: but what shall I be in relation to the Kaiser of the +Romans—a mercenary, a slave, or a conqueror—for one +of the three I must be?</p> +<p>So it went on, year after year—sometimes with terrible +reverses for Dietrich, till the year 480. Then the old +One-eyed died, in a strange way. Mounting a wild horse at +the tent-door, the beast reared before he could get his seat; +afraid of pulling it over by the curb, he let it go. A +lance, in Gothic fashion, was hanging at the tent-door, and the +horse plunged the One-eyed against it. The point went deep +into his side, and the old fighting man was at rest for ever.</p> +<p>And then came a strange peripeteia for the Amal. Zeno, +we know not why, sent instantly for him. He had been +ravaging, pursuing, defeating Roman troops, or being defeated by +them. Now he must come to Rome. His Goths should have +the Lower Danube. He should have glory and honour to +spare. He came. His ideal, at this time, seems +actually to have been to live like a Roman citizen in +Constantinople, and help to govern the Empire. Recollect, +he was still little more than five and twenty years old.</p> +<p>So he went to Constantinople, and I suppose with him the +faithful mother, and faithful sister, who had been with him in +all his wanderings. He had a triumph decreed him at the +Emperor’s expense, was made Consul Ordinarius +(‘which,’ saith Jornandes, ‘is accounted the +highest good and chief glory in the world’) and +Master-general, and lodged in the palace.</p> +<p>What did it all mean? Dietrich was dazzled by it, at +least for a while. What it meant, he found out too +soon. He was to fight the Emperor’s battles against +all rebels, and he fought them, to return irritated, complaining +(justly or unjustly) of plots against his life; to be pacified, +like a child, with the honour of an equestrian statue; then to +sink down into Byzantine luxury for seven inglorious years, with +only one flashing out of the ancient spirit, when he demanded to +go alone against the Bulgars, and killed their king with his own +hand.</p> +<p>What woke him from his dream? The cry of his starving +people.</p> +<p>The Goths, settled on the lower Danube, had been living, as +wild men and mercenaries live, recklessly from hand to mouth, +drinking and gambling till their families were in want. +They send to the Amal. ‘While thou art revelling at +Roman banquets, we are starving—come back ere we are +ruined.’</p> +<p>They were jealous, too, of the success of Odoacer and his +mercenaries. He was growing now to be a great power; +styling himself ‘King of nations <a +name="citation109"></a><a href="#footnote109" +class="citation">[109]</a>,’ giving away to the Visigoths +the Narbonnaise, the last remnant of the Western Empire; +collecting round him learned Romans like Symmachus, Boethius, and +Cassiodorus; respecting the Catholic clergy; and seemingly doing +his best to govern well. His mercenaries, however, would +not be governed. Under their violence and oppression +agriculture and population were both failing; till Pope Gelasius +speaks of ‘Æmilia, Tuscia, ceteræque +provinciæ in quibus nullus prope hominum +existit.’</p> +<p>Meanwhile there seems to have been a deep hatred on the part +of the Goths to Odoacer and his mercenaries. Dr. Sheppard +thinks that they despised him himself as a man of low +birth. But his father Ædecon had been chief of the +Turklings, and was most probably of royal blood. It is very +unlikely, indeed, that so large a number of Teutons would have +followed any man who had not Odin’s blood in his +veins. Was there a stain on Odoacer from his early +connexion with Attila? Or was the hatred against his men +more than himself, contempt especially of the low-caste +Herules,—a question of race, springing out of those +miserable tribe-feuds, which kept the Teutons always divided and +weak? Be that as it may, Odoacer had done a deed which +raised this hatred to open fury. He had gone over the Alps +into Rugiland (then Noricum, and the neighbourhood of Vienna) and +utterly destroyed those of the Rugier who had not gone into Italy +under his banner. They had plundered, it is said, the cell +of his old friend St. Severinus, as soon as the saint died, of +the garments laid up for the poor, and a silver cup, and the +sacred vessels of the mass. Be that as it may, Odoacer +utterly exterminated them, and carried their king Feletheus, or +Fava, back to Italy, with Gisa his ‘noxious wife;’ +and with them many Roman Christians, and (seemingly) the body of +St. Severinus himself. But this had been a small thing, if +he had not advised himself to have a regular Roman triumph, with +Fava, the captive king, walking beside his chariot; and +afterwards, in the approved fashion of the ancient Romans on such +occasions, to put Fava to death in cold blood.</p> +<p>The records of this feat are to be found, as far as I know +them, in one short chapter (I. xix.) of Paulus Diaconus, and in +Muratori’s notes thereto; but however small the records, +the deed decided the fate of Italy. Frederic, son of Fava, +took refuge with the Ostrogoths, and demanded revenge in the name +of his royal race; and it is easy to conceive that the sympathies +of the Goths would be with him. An attack (seemingly +unprovoked) on an ancient Teutonic nation by a mere band of +adventurers was—or could easily be made—a grievous +wrong, and clear casus belli, over and above the innate Teutonic +lust for fighting and adventures, simply for the sake of +‘the sport.’</p> +<p>Dietrich went back, and from that day, the dream of eastern +luxury was broken, and young Dietrich was a Goth again, for good +and for evil.</p> +<p>He assembled the Goths, and marched straight on +Constantinople, burning and pillaging as he went. So say, +at least, the Greek historians, of whom, all through this strange +story, no one need believe more than he likes. Had the +Goths had the writing of the life of Dietrich, we should have +heard another tale. As it is, we have, as it were, a life +of Lord Clive composed by the court scribes of Delhi.</p> +<p>To no Roman would he tell what was in his mind. Five +leagues from Constantinople he paused. Some say that he had +compassion on the city where he had been brought up. Who +can tell? He demanded to speak to Zeno alone, and the +father in arms and his wild son met once more. There was +still strong in him the old Teutonic feudal instinct. He +was ‘Zeno’s man,’ in spite of all. He +asked (says Jornandes) Zeno’s leave to march against +Odoacer, and conquer Italy. Procopius and the Valesian +Fragment say that Zeno sent him, and that in case of success, he +was to reign there till Zeno came. Zeno was, no doubt, glad +to get rid of him at any price. As Ennodius well says, +‘Another’s honour made him remember his own origin, +and fear the very legions which obeyed him—for that +obedience is suspected which serves the unworthy.’ +Rome was only nominally under Zeno’s dominion; and it +mattered little to him whether Herule or Gothic adventurer called +himself his representative.</p> +<p>Then was held a grand function. Dietrich, solemnly +appointed ‘Patrician,’ had Italy ceded to him by a +‘Pragmatic’ sanction, and Zeno placed on his head the +sacrum velamen, a square of purple, signifying in Constantinople +things wonderful, august, imperial—if they could only be +made to come to pass. And he made them come to pass. +He gathered all Teutonic heroes of every tribe, as well as his +own; and through Roumelia, and through the Alps, a long and +dangerous journey, went Dietrich and his Goths, with their wives +and children, and all they had, packed on waggons; living on +their flocks and herds, grinding their corn in hand-mills, and +hunting as they went, for seven hundred miles of march; fighting +as they went with Bulgars and Sarmatians, who had swarmed into +the waste marches of Hungary and Carniola, once populous, +cultivated, and full of noble cities; fighting a desperate battle +with the Gepidæ, up to their knees in a morass; till over +the passes of the Julian Alps, where icicles hung upon their +beards, and their clothes cracked with frost, they poured into +the Venetian plains. It was a daring deed; and needed a +spirit like Dietrich’s to carry it through.</p> +<p>Odoacer awaited him near the ruins of Aquileia. On the +morning of the fight, as he was arming, Dietrich asked his noble +mother to bring him some specially fine mantle, which she had +embroidered for him, and put it over his armour, ‘that all +men may see how he goes gayer into the fight than ever he did +into feast. For this day she shall see whether she have +brought a man-child into the world, or no.’</p> +<p>And in front of Verona (where the plain was long white with +human bones), he beat Odoacer, and after a short and sharp +campaign, drove him to Ravenna. But there, Roman +fortifications, and Roman artillery, stopped, as usual, the Goth; +and Odoacer fulfilled his name so well, and stood so stout, that +he could only be reduced by famine; and at last surrendered on +terms, difficult now to discover.</p> +<p>Gibbon says, that there was a regular compact that they should +enjoy equal authority, and refers to Procopius: but Procopius +only says, that they should live together peaceably ‘in +that city.’ Be that as it may, Odoacer and his party +were detected, after awhile, conspiring against Dietrich, and put +to death in some dark fashion. Gibbon, as advocatus +diaboli, of course gives the doubt against Dietrich, by his usual +enthymeme—All men are likely to be rogues, ergo, Dietrich +was one. Rather hard measure, when one remembers that the +very men who tell the story are Dietrich’s own +enemies. By far the most important of them, the author of +the Valesian Fragment, who considers Dietrich damned as an Arian, +and the murderer of Boethius and Symmachus, says plainly that +Odoacer plotted against his life. But it was a dark +business at best.</p> +<p>Be that as it may, Dietrich the Amal found himself in one day +king of all Italy, without a peer. And now followed a three +and thirty years’ reign of wisdom, justice, and prosperity, +unexampled in the history of those centuries. Between the +days of the Antonines and those of Charlemagne, I know no such +bright spot in the dark history of Europe.</p> +<p>As for his transferring the third of the lands of Italy, which +had been held by Odoacer’s men, to his own +Goths,—that was just or unjust (even putting out of the +question the rights of conquest), according to what manner of men +Odoacer’s mercenaries were, and what right they had to the +lands. At least it was done so, says Cassiodorus, that it +notoriously gave satisfaction to the Romans themselves. One +can well conceive it. Odoacer’s men had been lawless +adventurers; and now law was installed as supreme. +Dietrich, in his long sojourn at the Emperor’s court, had +discovered the true secret of Roman power, which made the Empire +terrible even in her fallen fortunes; and that was Law. +Law, which tells every man what to expect, and what is expected +of him; and so gives, if not content, still confidence, energy, +industry. The Goths were to live by the Gothic law, the +Romans by the Roman. To amalgamate the two races would have +been as impossible as to amalgamate English and Hindoos. +The parallel is really tolerably exact. The Goth was very +English; and the over-civilized, learned, false, profligate Roman +was the very counterpart of the modern Brahmin. But there +was to be equal justice between man and man. If the Goths +were the masters of much of the Roman soil, still spoliation and +oppression were forbidden; and the remarkable edict or code of +Theodoric, shews how deeply into his great mind had sunk the idea +of the divineness of Law. It is short, and of Draconic +severity, especially against spoliation, cheating, false +informers, abuse by the clergy of the rights of sanctuary, and +all offences against the honour of women. I advise you all +to study it, as an example of what an early Teutonic king thought +men ought to do, and could be made to do.</p> +<p>The Romans were left to their luxury and laziness; and their +country villas (long deserted) were filled again by the +owners. The Goths were expected to perform military +service, and were drilled from their youth in those military +evolutions which had so often given the disciplined Roman the +victory over the undisciplined Goth, till every pomoerium +(boulevard), says Ennodius, might be seen full of boys and lads, +learning to be soldiers. Everything meanwhile was done to +soothe the wounded pride of the conquered. The senate of +Rome was still kept up in name (as by Odoacer), her nobles +flattered by sonorous titles, and the officers of the kingdom and +the palace bore the same names as they would have done under +Roman emperors. The whole was an attempt to develop +Dietrich’s own Goths by the only civilization which he +knew, that of Constantinople: but to engraft on it an order, a +justice, a freedom, a morality, which was the +‘barbarian’ element. The treasures of Roman art +were placed under the care of government officers; baths, +palaces, churches, aqueducts, were repaired or founded; to build +seems to have been Dietrich’s great delight; and we have +left us, on a coin, some image of his own palace at Verona, a +strange building with domes and minarets, something like a +Turkish mosque; standing, seemingly, on the arcades of some older +Roman building. Dietrich the Goth may, indeed, be called +the founder of ‘Byzantine’ architecture throughout +the Western world.</p> +<p>Meanwhile, agriculture prospered once more; the Pontine +Marshes were drained; the imperial ports restored, and new cities +sprang up. ‘The new ones,’ says Machiavelli, +‘were Venice, Siena, Ferrara, Aquileia; and those which +became extended were Florence, Genoa, Pisa, Milan, Naples, and +Bologna.’ Of these the great sea-ports, especially +Venice, were founded not by Goths, but by Roman and Greek +fugitives: but it was the security and liberality of +Dietrich’s reign which made their existence possible; and +Venice really owes far more to the barbarian hero, than to the +fabled patronage of St. Mark.</p> +<p>‘From this devastation and new population,’ +continues Machiavelli, ‘arose new languages, which, +partaking of the native idiom of the new people, and of the old +Roman, formed a new manner of discourse. Besides, not only +were the names of provinces changed, but also of lakes, rivers, +seas, and men; for France, Spain, and Italy are full of fresh +names, wholly different from the ancient.’</p> +<p>This reign of Dietrich was, in fact, the birth-hour of modern +Italy; and, as Machiavelli says, ‘brought the country to +such a state of greatness, that her previous sufferings were +unrecognizable.’ We shall see hereafter how the great +Goth’s work was all undone; and (to their everlasting +shame) by whom it was undone.</p> +<p>The most interesting records of the time are, without doubt, +the letters of Cassiodorus, the king’s secretary and +chancellor, which have come down to us in great numbers. +There are letters among them on all questions of domestic and +foreign policy: to the kings of the Varni, kings of the Herules, +kings of the Thuringer (who were still heathens beyond the Black +forest), calling on them all to join him and the Burgundians, and +defend his son-in-law Alaric II., king of the Visigoths, against +Clovis and his Franks. There are letters, too, bearing on +the religious feuds of the Roman population, and on the morals +and social state of Rome itself, of which I shall say nothing in +this lecture, having cause to refer to them hereafter. But +if you wish to know the times, you must read Cassiodorus +thoroughly.</p> +<p>In his letters you will remark how most of the so-called Roman +names are Greek. You will remark, too, as a sign of the +decadence of taste and art, that though full of wisdom and +practical morality, the letters are couched in the most wonderful +bombast to be met with, even in that age of infimæ +Latinitatis. One can only explain their style by supposing +that King Dietrich, having supplied the sense, left it for +Cassiodorus to shape it as he thought best; and when the letter +was read over to him, took for granted (being no scholar) that +that was the way in which Roman Cæsars and other cultivated +personages ought to talk; admired his secretary’s learning; +and probably laughed in his sleeve at the whole thing, thinking +that ten words of honest German would have said all that he +meant. As for understanding these flights of rhetoric, it +is impossible that Dietrich could have done so: perhaps not even +Cassiodorus himself. Take as one example, such a letter as +this.—After a lofty moral maxim, which I leave for you to +construe—‘In partem pietatis recidit mitigata +districtio; et sub beneficio præstat, qui poenam debitam +moderatione considerata palpaverit,’—Jovinus the +curial is informed, after the most complex method, that having +first quarrelled with a fellow-curial, and then proceeded to kill +him, he is banished for life to the isle of Volcano, among the +Liparis. As a curial is a gentleman and a government +magistrate, the punishment is just enough; but why should +Cassiodorus (certainly not King Dietrich) finish a short letter +by a long dissertation on volcanoes in general, and Stromboli in +particular, insisting on the wonder that the rocks, though +continually burnt, are continually renewed by ‘the +inextricable potency of nature;’ and only returning to +Jovinus to inform him that he will henceforth follow the example +of a salamander, which always lives in fire, ‘being so +contracted by natural cold, that it is tempered by burning +flame. It is a thin and small animal, connected with worms, +and clothed with a yellow colour;’ . . . Cassiodorus then +returns to the main subject of volcanoes, and ends with a story +of Stromboli having broken out just as Hannibal poisoned himself +at the court of Prusias;—information which may have been +interesting, though not consoling, to poor Jovinus, in the +prospect of living there; but of which one would like to have had +king Dietrich’s opinion. Did he felicitate himself +like a simple Teuton, on the wonderful learning and eloquence of +his Greek-Roman secretary? Or did he laugh a royal laugh at +the whole letter, and crack a royal joke at Cassiodorus and all +quill-driving schoolmasters and lawyers—the two classes of +men whom the Goths hated especially, and at the end to which they +by their pedantries had brought imperial Rome? One would +like to know. For not only was Dietrich no scholar himself, +but he had a contempt for the very scholarship which he employed, +and forbade the Goths to learn it—as the event proved, a +foolish and fatal prejudice. But it was connected in his +mind with chicanery, effeminacy, and with the cruel and degrading +punishments of children. Perhaps the ferula had been +applied to him at Constantinople in old days. If so, no +wonder that he never learnt to write. ‘The boy who +trembles at a cane,’ he used to say, ‘will never face +a lance.’ His mother wit, meanwhile, was so shrewd +that ‘many of his sayings (says the unknown author of the +invaluable Valesian Fragment) remain among us to this +day.’ Two only, as far as I know, have been +preserved, quaint enough:</p> +<blockquote><p>‘He that hath gold, or a devil, cannot hide +it.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>And</p> +<blockquote><p>‘The Roman, when poor, apes the Goth: the +Goth,<br /> +when rich, apes the Roman.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>There is a sort of Solomon’s judgment, too, told of him, +in the case of a woman who refused to acknowledge her own son, +which was effectual enough; but somewhat too homely to +repeat.</p> +<p>As for his personal appearance, it was given in a saga; but I +have not consulted it myself, and am no judge of its +authenticity. The traditional description of him is that of +a man almost beardless—a rare case among the +Goths—with masses of golden ringlets, and black eyebrows +over ‘oculos cæsios,’ the blue grey eyes common +to so many conquerors. A complexion so peculiar, that one +must believe it to be truly reported.</p> +<p>His tragic death, and the yet more tragic consequences +thereof, will be detailed in the next lecture.</p> +<h2>LECTURE V—DIETRICH’S END.</h2> +<p>I have now to speak to you on the latter end of +Dietrich’s reign—made so sadly famous by the death of +Boethius—the last Roman philosopher, as he has been called +for centuries, and not unjustly. His De Consolatione +Philosophiæ is a book good for any man, full of wholesome +and godly doctrine. For centuries it ranked as high as the +highest classics; higher perhaps at times than any book save the +Bible, among not merely scholars, but statesmen. It is the +last legacy of the dying old world to the young world which was +trampling it out of life; and therefore it is full of +sadness. But beneath the sadness there is faith and hope; +for God is just, and virtue must be triumphant and immortal, and +the absolute and only good for man. The whole story is very +sad. Dietrich was one of those great men, who like Henry +VIII, Elizabeth, Napoleon, or the late Czar Nicholas, have lived +too long for their own honour. The old heathen would have +attributed his misadventures to a +φθονος +θεων, an envy of the Gods, who will not +abide to see men as prosperous as they themselves are. We +may attribute it more simply and more piously to the wear and +tear of frail humanity. For it may be that very few human +souls can stand for many years the strain of a great rule. +I do not mean that they break down from overwork, but that they +are pulled out of shape by it; and that, especially, the will +becomes enormously developed at the expense of the other powers +of the soul, till the man becomes, as he grows older, imperious, +careless of, or irritated by counsel, determined to have his own +way because it is his own way. We see the same tendency in +all accustomed for a long while to absolute rule, even in petty +matters;—in the old ship’s captain, the old head of a +factory, the old master of hounds; and we do not blame them for +it. It is a disease incident to their calling, as pedantry +is to that of a scholar, or astuteness to that of an +attorney. But it is most dangerous in the greatest minds, +and in the highest places; and only to be kept off by them, as by +us, each in our place, by honest self-examination, diligent +prayer, and the grace of God which comes thereby. Once or +twice in the world’s history a great ruler, like Charles +the Fifth, cuts the Gordian knot, and escapes into a convent: but +how few can or ought to do that? There are those who must +go on ruling, or see their country ruined; for all depends on +them. So had Queen Elizabeth to do; so had Dietrich of Bern +likewise. After them would come the deluge, and did come; +and they must endure to the last, whatever it may cost to their +own health of character, or peace of mind.</p> +<p>But most painful, and most dangerous to the veteran sovereign, +is it to have learnt to suspect, perhaps to despise, those whom +he rules; to have thrown away all his labour upon knaves and +fools; to have cast his pearls before swine, and find them +turning again and rending him. That feeling, forced from +Queen Elizabeth, in her old age, that tragic cry, ‘I am a +miserable forlorn woman. There is none about me whom I can +trust.’ She was a woman, always longing for some one +to love; and her heart broke under it all. But do you not +see that where the ruler is not an affectionate woman, but a +strong proud man, the effect may be very different, and very +terrible?—how, roused to indignation, scorn, suspicion, +rage, he may turn to bay against his own subjects, with +‘Scoundrels! you have seen the fair side of my character, +and in vain. Now you shall see the foul, and beware for +yourselves.’</p> +<p>Even so, I fancy, did old Dietrich turn to bay, and did deeds +which have blackened his name for ever. Heaven forgive him! +for surely he had provocation enough and to spare.</p> +<p>I have told you of the simple, half-superstitious respect +which the Teuton had for the prestige of Rome. Dietrich +seems to have partaken of it, like the rest. Else why did +he not set himself up as Cæsar of Rome? Why did he +always consider himself as son-in-arms, and quasi-vassal, of the +Cæsar of Constantinople? He had been in youth +overawed by the cunning civilization which he had seen in the +great city. He felt, with a noble modesty, that he could +not emulate it. He must copy it afar off. He must +take to his counsels men like Cassiodorus, Symmachus, Boethius, +born and bred in it; trained from childhood in the craft by +which, as a patent fact, the Kaisers of Rome had been for +centuries, even in their decay and degradation, the rulers of the +nations. Yet beneath that there must have been a perpetual +under-current of contempt for it and for Rome—the +‘colluvies gentium’—the sink of the nations, +with its conceit, its pomposity, its beggary, its profligacy, its +superstition, its pretence of preserving the Roman law and +rights, while practically it cared for no law nor right at +all. Dietrich had had to write letter upon letter, to +prevent the green and blue factions cutting each other’s +throats at the public spectacles; letters to the tribunus +voluptatum, who had to look after the pantomimes and loose women, +telling him to keep the poor wretches in some decent order, and +to set them and the city an example of a better life, by being a +chaste and respectable man himself. Letter upon letter of +Cassiodorus’, written in Dietrich’s name, disclose a +state of things in Rome on which a Goth could look only with +disgust and contempt.</p> +<p>And what if he discovered (or thought that he discovered) that +these prating coxcombs—who were actually living on +government bounty, and had their daily bread, daily bath, daily +oil, daily pork, daily wine, found for them at government +expense, while they lounged from the theatre to the church, and +the church to the theatre—were plotting with Justin the +scoundrel and upstart Emperor at Constantinople, to restore +forsooth the liberties of Rome? And that that was their +answer to his three and thirty years of good government, respect, +indulgence, which had raised them up again out of all the +miseries of domestic anarchy and foreign invasion?</p> +<p>And what if he discovered (or thought that he discovered) that +the Catholic Clergy, with Pope John at their head, were in the +very same plot for bringing in the Emperor of Constantinople, on +the grounds of religion; because he was persecuting the Arian +Goths at Constantinople, and therefore would help them to +persecute them in Italy? And that that was their answer to +his three and thirty years of unexampled religious liberty? +Would not those two facts (even the belief that they were facts) +have been enough to drive many a wise man mad?</p> +<p>How far they were facts, we never shall exactly know. +Almost all our information comes from Catholic +historians—and he would be a rash man who would pin his +faith on any statement of theirs concerning the actions of a +heretic. But I think, even with no other help than theirs, +we may see why Dietrich would have looked with horror on any +intimacy between the Church of Rome and the Court of +Constantinople.</p> +<p>We must remember first what the Greek Empire was then, and who +was the new Emperor. Anastasius the poor old Emperor, dying +at eighty with his heart broken by monks and priests, had an ugly +dream; and told it to Amantius the eunuch and lord +chamberlain. Whereon Amantius said he had had a dream +too;—how a great hog flew at him as he was in waiting in +the very presence, and threw him down and eat him fairly +up. Which came true—though not in the way Amantius +expected. On the death of Anastasius he determined to set +up as Emperor a creature of his own. For this purpose he +must buy the guards; to which noble end he put a large sum of +treasure into the hands of Justin, senator, and +commander-in-chief of the said guards, who takes the money, and +spends it on his own account; so that the miserable eunuch finds, +not his man, but Justin himself, Emperor, and his hard-earned +money spent against him. The mere rise of this unscrupulous +swindler and his still more unscrupulous nephew, Justinian, would +have been enough to rouse Dietrich’s suspicion, if not +fear.</p> +<p>Deep and unspeakable must have been the royal Amal’s +contempt for the man. For he must have known him well at +Constantinople in his youth; known how he was a Goth or other +Teuton after all, though he was called a Dardanian; how his real +name was Uprauda (upright), the son of Stock—which Uprauda +he had latinized into Justinus. The Amal knew well how he +had entered the Emperor’s guard; how he had intrigued and +fought his way up (for the man did not lack courage and conduct) +to his general’s commission; and now, by a crowning act of +roguery, to the Empire. He had known too, most probably, +the man’s vulgar peasant wife, who, in her efforts to ape +royalty, was making herself the laughing-stock of the people, and +who was urging on her already willing husband to persecute. +And this man he saw ready to convulse his own Empire by beginning +a violent persecution against the Arians. He was dangerous +enough as a villain, doubly dangerous as a bigot also.</p> +<p>We must remember next what the Greek Church was then; a chaos +of intrigue, villainy, slander, and wild fury, tearing to pieces +itself and the whole Empire by religious feuds, in which the +doctrine in question becomes invisible amid the passions and +crimes of the disputants, while the Lords of the Church were +hordes of wild monks, who swarm out of their dens to head the +lowest mobs, or fight pitched battles with each other. The +ecclesiastical history of the fifth century in the Eastern Empire +is one, which not even the genius of a Gibbon or a Milman can +make interesting, or even intelligible.</p> +<p>Recollect that Dietrich had seen much of this with his own +eyes; had seen actually, as I told you, the rebellion of +Basiliscus and the Eutychian Bishops headed by the mad Daniel the +Stylite against his foster father the Emperor Zeno; had seen that +Emperor (as Dean Milman forcibly puts it) ‘flying before a +naked hermit, who had lost the use of his legs by standing +sixteen years upon a column.’ Recollect that Dietrich +and his Goths had helped to restore that Emperor to his throne; +and then understand in what a school he had learnt his great +ideas of religious toleration: how deep must have been the +determination to have no such doings in his kingdom; how deep, +too, the dread of any similar outbreak at Rome.</p> +<p>Recollect, also, that now in his old age he had just witnessed +the same iniquities again rending the Eastern Empire; the old +Emperor Anastasius hunted to death by armies of mad monks about +the Monophysite Heresy; the cities, even the holiest places of +the East, stained with Christian blood; everywhere mob-law, +murder, treachery, assassination even in the house of God; and +now the new Emperor Justin was throwing himself into the party of +the Orthodox with all the blind rage of an ignorant peasant; +persecuting, expelling, shutting up the Arian Churches of the +Goths, refusing to hear Dietrich’s noble appeals; and +evidently organizing a great movement against those peaceable +Arians, against whom, during the life-time of Dietrich, their +bitterest enemies do not allege a single case of persecution.</p> +<p>Remember, too, that Dietrich had had experience of similar +outbreaks of fanaticism at Rome; that the ordination of two rival +Popes had once made the streets run with blood; that he had seen +priests murdered, monasteries fired, nuns insulted, and had had +to interfere with the strong arm of the law, and himself decide +in favour of the Pope who had the most votes, and was first +chosen; and that in the quarrels, intrigues, and slanders, which +followed that election, he had had too good proof that the +ecclesiastics and the mob of Rome, if he but let them, could +behave as ill as that of Constantinople; and, moreover, that this +new Pope John, who seems to have been a hot-headed fanatic, had +begun his rule by whipping and banishing Manichees—by whose +permission, does not appear.</p> +<p>Recollect too, that for some reason or other, Dietrich, when +he had interfered in Eastern matters, had been always on the side +of the Orthodox and the Council of Chalcedon. He had fought +for the Orthodox against Basiliscus. He had backed the +Orthodox and Vitalianus their champion, against the late Emperor +Anastasius; and now as soon as the Orthodox got into power under +Justin, this was the reward of his impartiality. If he did +not distrust and despise the Church and Emperor of the East, he +must have been not a hero, but a saint.</p> +<p>Recollect, too, that in those very days, Catholic bigotry had +broken out in a general plunder of the Jews. At Rome, at +Milan, and Genoa their houses had been sacked, and their +synagogues burnt; and Dietrich, having compelled the Catholics to +rebuild them at their own expense, had earned the hatred of a +large portion of his subjects. And now Pope John was doing +all he could to thwart him. Dietrich bade him go to +Constantinople, and plead with Justin for the persecuted +Arians. He refused. Dietrich shipt him off, nolentem +volentem. But when he got to Constantinople he threw his +whole weight into the Emperor’s scale. He was +received by Justin as if he was St. Peter himself, the Emperor +coming out to meet him with processions and wax-lights, imploring +his blessing; he did exactly the opposite to what Dietrich bade +him do; and published on his return a furious epistle to the +bishops of Italy, calling upon them to oppress and extirpate the +Arian perfidy, so that no root of it is left: to consecrate the +Arian churches wheresoever he found them, pleading the advice of +the most pious and Christian Emperor Justin, talking of Dietrich +as tainted inwardly and wrapt up outwardly with the pest of +heresy. On which Cochlæus (who religiously believes +that Dietrich was damned for his Arianism, and that all his +virtues went for nothing because he had not charity, which +exists, he says, alone within the pale of the Church), cannot +help the naive comment, that if the Pontiff did really write that +letter, he cannot wonder at Dietrich’s being a little +angry. Kings now, it is true, can afford to smile at such +outbursts; they could not afford to do so in Dietrich’s +days. Such words meant murder, pillage, civil war, +dethronement, general anarchy; and so Dietrich threw Pope John +into prison. He had been in bad health before he sailed to +Constantinople, and in a few months he died, and was worshipped +as a saint.</p> +<p>As for the political conspiracy, we shall never know the truth +of it. The ‘Anonymus Valesii,’ meanwhile says, +that when Cyprian accused Albinus, Boethius answered, ‘It +is false: but if Albinus has done it, so have I, and the whole +senate, with one consent. It is false, my Lord +King!’ Whatever such words may prove, they prove at +least this, that Boethius, as he says himself, was the victim of +his own chivalry. To save Albinus, and the senate, he +thrust himself into the fore-front of the battle, and fell at +least like a brave man. Whether Albinus, Boethius, and +Symmachus did plot to bring in Justin; whether the senate did +send a letter to him, I cannot tell. Boethius, in his De +Consolatione, denies it all; and Boethius was a good man. +He says that the letters in which he hoped for the liberty of +Rome were forged; how could he hope for the impossible? but he +adds, ‘would that any liberty could have been hoped +for! I would have answered the king as Cassius did, when +falsely accused of conspiring by Caligula: “If I had known +of it, you should not.”’ One knows not whether +Dietrich ever saw those words: but they prove at least that all +his confidence, justice, kindness to the patrician philosopher, +had not won him from the pardonable conceit about the Romani +nominis umbram.</p> +<p>Boethius’ story is most probably true. One cannot +think that that man would die with a lie in his mouth. One +cannot pass by, as the utterances of a deliberate hypocrisy, +those touching appeals to his guiding mistress, that heavenly +wisdom who has led him so long upon the paths of truth and +virtue, and who seems to him, in his miserable cell, to have +betrayed him in his hour of need. Heaven forbid. +Better to believe that Dietrich committed once in his life, a +fearful crime, than that good Boethius’ famous book is such +another as the Eikon Basilike.</p> +<p>Boethius, again, says that the Gothic courtiers hated him, and +suborned branded scoundrels to swear away his life and that of +the senate, because he had opposed ‘the hounds of the +palace,’ Amigast, Trigulla, and other greedy +barbarians. There was, of course, a Gothic party and a +Roman party about the court; and each hated the other +bitterly. Dietrich had favoured the Romans. But the +Goths could not have seen such men as Symmachus and Boethius the +confidants and counsellors of the Amal, without longing for their +downfall; and if, as Boethius and the Catholic historians say, +the whole tragedy arose out of a Gothic plot to destroy the Roman +party, such things have happened but too often in the +world’s history. The only facts which make against +the story are, that Cyprianus the accuser was a Roman, and that +Cassiodorus, who must have belonged to the Roman party, not only +is never mentioned during the whole tragedy, but was high in +power under Theodatus and Athalaric afterwards.</p> +<p>Add to this, that there were vague but wide-spread reports +that the Goths were in danger; that Dietrich at least could not +be ignorant of the ambition and the talents of that terrible +Justinian, Justin’s nephew, who was soon to alter, for a +generation, the fortunes of the whole Empire, and to sweep the +Goths from Italy; that men’s minds must have been perplexed +with fear of change, when they recollected that Dietrich was +seventy years old, without a son to succeed him, and that a woman +and a child would soon rule that great people in a crisis, which +they could not but foresee. We know that the ruin came; is +it unreasonable to suppose that the Goths foresaw it, and made a +desperate, it may be a treacherous, effort to crush once and for +all, the proud and not less treacherous senators of Rome?</p> +<p>So, maddened with the fancied discovery that the man whom he +had honoured, trusted, loved, was conspiring against him, +Dietrich sent Boethius to prison. He seems, however, not to +have been eager for his death; for Boethius remained there long +enough to write his noble book.</p> +<p>However, whether fresh proofs of his supposed guilt were +discovered or not, the day came when he must die. A cord +was twisted round his head (probably to extort confession), till +his eyes burst from their sockets, and then he was put out of his +misery by a club; and so ended the last Roman philosopher. +Symmachus, his father-in-law, was beheaded; and Pope John, as we +have heard, was thrown into prison on his return, and died after +a few months. These are the tragedies which have stained +for ever the name of ‘Theodoric the Great.’</p> +<p>Pope John seems to have fairly earned his imprisonment. +For the two others, we can only, I fear, join in the sacred pity +in which their memories have been embalmed to all succeeding +generations. But we must recollect, that after all, we know +but one side of the question. The Romans could write; the +Goths could not: they may have been able to make out a fair case +for themselves; they may have believed truly in the guilt of +Boethius; and if they did, nothing less could have happened, by +such rules of public law and justice as were then in vogue, than +did happen.</p> +<p>Be that as it may, the deed was done; and the punishment, if +deserved, came soon enough. Sitting at dinner (so the story +runs), the head of a fish took in Dietrich’s fancy the +shape of Symmachus’ head, the upper teeth biting the lip, +the great eyes staring at him. He sprang up in horror; took +to his bed; and there, complaining of a mortal chill, wrapping +himself up in heaps of blankets, and bewailing to his physician +the death of his two victims, he died sadly in a few days. +And a certain holy hermit, name not given, nor date of the +vision, saw the ghosts of Boethius and Symmachus lead the +Amal’s soul up the cone of Stromboli, and hurl him in, as +the English sailors saw old Boots, the Wapping usurer, hurled +into the same place, for offences far more capable of proof.</p> +<p>So runs the story of Dietrich’s death. It is +perfectly natural, and very likely true. His +contemporaries, who all believed it, saw in it proof of his +enormous guilt, and the manifest judgment of God. We shall +rather see in it a proof of the earnest, child-like, honest +nature of the man, startled into boundless horror and +self-abasement, by the sudden revelation of his crime. +Truly bad men die easier deaths than that; and go down to the +grave, for the most part, blind and self-contented, and, as they +think, unpunished; and perhaps forgiven.</p> +<p>After Dietrich came the deluge. The royal head was +gone. The royal heart remained in Amalasuentha ‘the +heavenly beauty,’ a daughter worthy of her father.</p> +<p>One of her first acts was to restore to the widows and +children of the two victims the estates which Dietrich had +confiscated. That may, or may not, prove that she thought +the men innocent. She may have only felt it royal not to +visit the sins of the fathers on the children; and those fathers, +too, her own friends and preceptors. Beautiful, learned, +and wise, she too was, like her father, before her age. +She, the pupil of Boethius, would needs bring up her son +Athalaric in Roman learning, and favour the Romans in all ways; +never putting to death or even fining any of them, and keeping +down the rough Goths, who were ready enough, now Dietrich’s +hand was off them, to ill-use the conquered Italians. The +Goths soon grew to dislike her, and her Roman tendencies, her +Roman education of the lad. One day she boxed his ears for +some fault. He ran crying out into the Heldensaal, and +complained to the heroes. They sent a deputation to +Amalasuentha, insolent enough. ‘The boy should not be +made a scholar of.’ ‘She meant to kill the boy +and marry again. Had not old Dietrich forbidden free Goths +to go to schoolmasters, and said, that the boy who was taught to +tremble at a cane, would never face a lance?’ So they +took the lad away from the women, and made a ruffian of +him. What with drink, women, idleness, and the company of +wild young fellows like himself, he was early ruined, body and +soul. Poor Amalasuentha, not knowing whither to turn, took +the desperate resolution of offering Italy to the Emperor +Justinian. She did not know that her cousin Theodatus had +been beforehand with her—a bad old man, greedy and unjust, +whose rapacity she had had to control again and again, and who +hated her in return. Both send messages to Justinian. +The wily Emperor gave no direct answer: but sent his ambassador +to watch the course of events. The young prince died of +debauchery, and the Goths whispered that his mother had poisoned +him. Meanwhile Theodatus went on from bad to worse; +accusations flowed in to Amalasuentha of his lawless rapacity: +but he was too strong for her; and she, losing her head more and +more, made the desperate resolve of marrying him, as the only way +to keep him quiet. He was the last male heir of the royal +Amalungs. The marriage would set him right in the eyes of +the Goths, while it would free her from the suspicion of having +murdered her son, in order to reign alone. Theodatus +meanwhile was to have the name of royalty; but she was to keep +the power and the money—a foolish, confused plan, which +could have but one ending. Theodatus married her of course, +and then cast her into prison, seized all her treasures, and +threw himself into the arms of that party among the Goths, who +hated Amalasuentha for having punished their oppressions. +The end was swift and sad. By the time that +Justinian’s ambassador landed, Amalasuentha was strangled +in her bath; and all that Peter the ambassador had to do was, to +catch at the cause of quarrel, and declare ‘inexpiable +war’ on the part of Justinian, as the avenger of the +Queen.</p> +<p>And then began that dreadful East Goth war, which you may read +for yourselves in the pages of an eye-witness, Procopius;—a +war which destroyed utterly the civilization of Dietrich’s +long and prosperous reign, left Italy a desert, and exterminated +the Roman people.</p> +<p>That was the last woe: but of it I must tell you in my next +Lecture.</p> +<h2>LECTURE VI—THE NEMESIS OF THE GOTHS.</h2> +<p>Of this truly dreadful Gothic war I can give you but a hasty +sketch; of some of the most important figures in it, not even a +sketch. I cannot conceive to myself, and therefore cannot +draw for you, the famous Belisarius. Was he really the +strange compound of strength and weakness which Procopius, and +after him Gibbon, represent him?—a caricature, for good and +evil, of our own famous Marlborough? You must read and +judge for yourselves. I cannot, at least as yet, offer you +any solution of the enigma.</p> +<p>Still less can I conceive to myself Narses, living till his +grey hairs in the effeminate intrigues of the harem, and then +springing forth a general; the Warrior Eunuch; the misanthrope +avenging his great wrong upon all mankind in bloody +battle-fields; dark of counsel, and terrible of execution; him to +whom in after years the Empress Sophia sent word that he was more +fit to spin among maids than to command armies, and he answered, +that he would spin her such a thread as she could not unravel; +and kept his word (as legends say) by inviting the Lombards into +Italy.</p> +<p>Least of all can I sketch Justinian the Great, the half-Teuton +peasant, whom his uncle Justin sent for out of the Dardanian +hills, to make him a demigod upon earth. Men whispered in +after years that he was born of a demon, a demon himself, passing +whole days without food, wandering up and down his palace +corridors all night, resolving dark things, and labouring all day +with Herculean force to carry them out. No wonder he was +thought to be a demon, wedded to a demon-wife. The man is +unfathomable, inexplicable;—marrying deliberately the +wickedest of all women, plainly not for mere beauty’s sake, +but possibly because he saw in her a congenial +intellect;—faithful and loving to her and she to him, amid +all the crimes of their following years;—pious with +exceeding devotion and orthodoxy, and yet with a piety utterly +divorced from, unconscious of, the commonest +morality;—discerning and using the greatest men, Belisarius +and Narses for example, and throwing them away again, surely not +in weak caprice, whenever they served him too +well;—conquering Persians, Vandals, Goths; all but +re-conquering, in fact, the carcase Roman Empire;—and then +trying (with a deep discernment of the value of Roman law) to put +a galvanic life into the carcase by codifying that law.</p> +<p>In whatever work I find this man, during his long life, he is +to me inexplicable. Louis XI of France is the man most like +Justinian whom I know, but he, too, is a man not to be fathomed +by me. All the facts about Justinian you will find in +Gibbon. I have no theory by which to arrange and explain +them, and therefore can tell you no more than Gibbon does.</p> +<p>So to this Gothic war; which, you must remember, became +possible for Justinian by Belisarius’ having just destroyed +the Vandals out of Africa. It began by Belisarius invading +the south of Italy. Witigis was elected war-king of the +Goths, ‘the man of witty counsels,’ who did not +fulfil his name; while Theodatus (Theod-aht ‘esteemed by +the people’ as his name meant) had fallen into utter +disesteem, after some last villainy about money; had been struck +down in the road by the man he had injured; and there had his +throat cut, ‘resupinus instar victimæ +jugulatus.’</p> +<p>He had consulted a Jew diviner just before, who had given him +a warning. Thirty pigs, signifying the unclean Gentiles, +the Jew shut up in three sties; naming ten Goths, ten Romans, and +ten Imperialists of Belisarius’ army, and left them to +starve. At the end they found dead all the Goths but two, +hardly any of the Imperialists, and half the Romans: but the five +Roman pigs who were left had lost their bristles—bare to +the skin, as the event proved.</p> +<p>After that Theodatus had no heart to fight, and ended his +dog’s life by a dog’s death, as we have seen.</p> +<p>Note also this, that there was a general feeling of coming +ruin; that there were quaint signs and omens. We have heard +of the pigs which warned the Goths. Here is another. +There was a Mosaic picture of Theodoric at Naples; it had been +crumbling to pieces at intervals, and every fresh downfall had +marked the death of an Amal. Now the last remains went +down, to the very feet, and the Romans believed that it foretold +the end of the Amal dynasty. There was a Sibylline oracle +too;</p> +<blockquote><p>‘Quintili mense Roma nihil Geticum +metuet.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Here, too, we find the last trace of heathenism, of that +political mythology which had so inextricably interwoven itself +with the life and history of the city. The shrine of Janus +was still standing, all of bronze, only just large enough, +Procopius says, to contain the bronze image of Janus +Bifrons. The gates, during Christian centuries, had never +been opened, even in war time. Now people went by night, +and tried to force them open: but hardly succeeded.</p> +<p>Belisarius garrisoned Rome, and the Goths attacked it, but in +vain. You must read the story of that famous siege in the +really brilliant pages of old Procopius, the last good historian +of the old world.</p> +<p>Moreover, and this is most important, Belisarius raised the +native population against the Goths. As he had done in +Africa, when in one short campaign he utterly destroyed the now +effeminate aristocracy of the Vandals, so he did in Italy. +By real justice and kindness; by proclaiming himself the +deliverer of the conquered from the yoke of foreign tyrants, he +isolated the slave-holding aristocracy of the Goths from the mass +of the inhabitants of Italy.</p> +<p>Belisarius and the Goths met, and the Goths conquered. +But to take Rome was beyond their power; and after that a long +miserable war struggled and wrangled up and down over the +wretched land; city after city was taken and destroyed, now by +Roman, now by Goth. The lands lay waste, the people +disappeared in tens of thousands. All great +Dietrich’s work of thirty years was trampled into mud.</p> +<p>There were horrible sieges and destructions by both +parties;—sack of Milan by Goths, sack of Rimini and the +country round by Romans; horrors of famine at Auximum; two women +who kept an inn, killing and eating seventeen men, till the +eighteenth discovered the trap and killed them. Everywhere, +as I say, good Dietrich’s work of thirty years trampled +into gory mud.</p> +<p>Then Theudebert and his false Franks came down to see what +they could get; all (save a few knights round the king) on foot, +without bow or lance; but armed with sword, shield, and heavy +short-handled double-edged francisc, or battle-axe. At the +bridge over the Ticinus they (nominal Catholics) sacrificed +Gothic women and children with horrid rites, fought alike Goths +and Romans, lost a third of their army by dysentery, and went +home again.</p> +<p>At last, after more horrors, Vitigis and his Goths were driven +into Ravenna. Justinian treated for peace; and then +followed a strange peripeteia, which we have, happily, from an +eye-witness, Procopius himself. The Roman generals outside +confessed their chance of success hopeless. The Goths +inside, tired of the slow Vitigis, send out to the great +Belisarius, Will he be their king? King over them there in +Italy? He promised, meaning to break his promise; and to +the astonishment and delight of the Romans, the simple and honest +barbarians opened the gates of Ravenna, and let in him and his +Romans, to find themselves betrayed and enslaved. +‘When I saw our troops march in,’ says Procopius, +‘I felt it was God’s doing, so to turn their +minds. The Goths,’ he says, ‘were far superior +in numbers and in strength; and their women, who had fancied +these Romans to be mighty men of valour, spit in the faces of +their huge husbands, and pointing to the little Romans, +reproached them with having surrendered to such things as +that.’ But the folly was committed. Belisarius +carried them away captive to Constantinople, and so ended the +first act of the Gothic war.</p> +<p>In the moment of victory the envy of the Byzantine court undid +all that it had done. Belisarius returned with his captives +to Rome, not for a triumph, but for a disgrace; and Italy was +left open to the Goths, if they had men and heart to rise once +more.</p> +<p>And they did rise. Among the remnant of the race was +left a hero, Totila by name;—a Teuton of the ancient +stamp. Totilas, ‘free from +death’—‘the deathless one,’ they say his +name means. Under him the nation rose once more as out of +the ground.</p> +<p>A Teuton of the ancient stamp he was, just and merciful +exceedingly. Take but two instances of him, and know the +man by them. He retook Naples. The Romans within were +starving. He fed them; but lest they should die of the +sudden repletion, he kept them in by guards at each gate, and fed +them up more and more each day, till it was safe to let them out, +to find food for themselves in the country. A Roman came to +complain that a Goth had violated his daughter. He shall +die, said Totila. He shall not die, said the Goths. +He is a valiant hero. They came clamouring to the +king. He answered them quietly and firmly. They may +choose to-day, whether to let this man go unpunished, or to save +the Gothic nation and win the victory. Do they not +recollect how at the beginning of the war, they had brave +soldiers, famous generals, countless treasures, horses, weapons, +and all the forts of Italy? And yet under Theodatus, a man +who loved gold better than justice, they had so angered God by +their unrighteous lives, that—what had happened they knew +but too well. Now God had seemed to have avenged himself on +them enough. He had begun a new course with them. +They must begin a new course with him; and justice was the only +path. As for the man’s being a valiant hero: let them +know that the unjust and the ravisher were never brave in fight; +but that according to a man’s life, such was his luck in +battle.</p> +<p>His noble words came all but true. The feeble generals +who were filling Belisarius’s place were beaten one by one, +and almost all Italy was reconquered. Belisarius had to be +sent back again to Italy: but the envy, whether of Justinian +himself, or of the two wicked women who ruled his court, allowed +him so small a force that he could do nothing.</p> +<p>Totila and the Goths came down once more to Rome. +Belisarius in agony sent for reinforcements, and got them; but +too late. He could not relieve Rome. The Goths had +massed themselves round the city, and Belisarius, having got to +Ostia (Portus) at the Tiber’s mouth, could get no +further. This was the last woe; the actual death-agony of +ancient Rome. The famine grew and grew. The wretched +Romans cried to Bessas and his garrison, either to feed them or +to kill them out of their misery. They would do +neither. They could hardly at last feed themselves. +The Romans ate nettles off the ruins, and worse things +still. There was not a dog or a rat left. They even +killed themselves. One father of five children could bear +no longer their cries for food. He wrapped his head in his +mantle, and sprang into the Tiber, while the children looked +on. The survivors wandered about like spectres, brown with +hunger, and dropped dead with half-chewed nettles between their +lips. To this, says Procopius, had fortune brought the +Roman senate and people. Nay, not fortune, but +wickedness. They had wished to play at being free, while +they themselves were the slaves of sin.</p> +<p>And still Belisarius was coming,—and still he did not +come. He was forcing his way up the Tiber; he had broken +Totila’s chain, burnt a tower full of Goths, and the city +was on the point of being relieved, when one Isaac made a fool of +himself, and was taken by the Goths. Belisarius fancied +that Portus, his base of operations, with all his supplies, and +Antonia, the worthless wife on whom he doted, were gone. He +lost his head, was beaten terribly, fell back on Ostia, and then +the end came. Isaurians from within helped in Goths by +night. The Asinarian gate was opened, and Rome was in the +hands of the Goths.</p> +<p>And what was left? What of all the pomp and glory, the +spoils of the world, the millions of inhabitants?</p> +<p>Five or six senators, who had taken refuge in St. +Peter’s, and some five hundred of the plebs; Pope Pelagius +crouching at Totila’s feet, and crying for mercy; and +Rusticiana, daughter of Symmachus, Boethius’ widow, with +other noble women, in slaves’ rags, knocking without shame +at door after door to beg a bit of bread. And that was what +was left of Rome.</p> +<p>Gentlemen, I make no comment. I know no more awful page +in the history of Europe. Through such facts as these God +speaks. Let man be silent; and look on in fear and +trembling, knowing that it was written of old time—The +wages of sin are death.</p> +<p>The Goths wanted to kill Rusticiana. She had sent money +to the Roman generals; she had thrown down Dietrich’s +statues, in revenge for the death of her father and her +husband. Totila would not let them touch her. Neither +maid, wife, nor widow, says Procopius, was the worse for any +Goth.</p> +<p>Next day he called the heroes together. He is going to +tell them the old tale, he says—How in Vitigis’ time +at Ravenna, 7000 Greeks had conquered and robbed of kingdom and +liberty 200,000 rich and well-armed Goths. And now that +they were raw levies, few, naked, wretched, they had conquered +more than 20,000 of the enemy. And why? Because of +old they had looked to everything rather than to justice; they +had sinned against each other and the Romans. Therefore +they must choose, and be just men henceforth, and have God with +them, or unjust, and have God against them.</p> +<p>Then he sends for the wretched remnant of the senators and +tells them the plain truth:—How the great Dietrich and his +successors had heaped them with honour and wealth; and how they +had returned his benefits by bringing in the Greeks. And +what had they gained by changing Dietrich for Justinian? +Logothetes, who forced them by blows to pay up the money which +they had already paid to their Gothic rulers; and revenue exacted +alike in war and in peace. Slaves they deserve to be; and +slaves they shall be henceforth.</p> +<p>Then he sends to Justinian. He shall withdraw his army +from Italy, and make peace with him. He will be his ally +and his son in arms, as Dietrich had been to the Emperors before +him, or if not, he will kill the senate, destroy Rome, and march +into Illyricum.</p> +<p>Justinian leaves it to Belisarius.</p> +<p>Then Totila begins to destroy Rome. He batters down the +walls, he is ready to burn the town. He will turn the evil +place into a sheep-pasture. Belisarius flatters and cajoles +him from his purpose, and he marches away with all his captives, +leaving not a living soul in Rome.</p> +<p>But Totila shews himself a general unable to cope with that +great tactician. He divides his forces, and allows +Belisarius to start out of Ostia and fortify himself in +Rome. The Goths are furious at his rashness: but it is too +late, and the war begins again, up and down the wretched land, +till Belisarius is recalled by some fresh court intrigue of his +wicked wife, and another and even more terrible enemy appears on +the field, Narses the eunuch, avenging his wrong upon his +fellow-men by cunning and courage almost preternatural. He +comes upon them with a mighty host: but not of Romans +alone. He has gathered the Teuton tribes;—Herules, +the descendants probably of Odoacer’s confederates; Gepids, +who have a long blood-feud against the Goths; and most terrible +of all, Alboin with his five thousand more Burgundians, of whom +you will hear enough hereafter. We read even of multitudes +of Huns, and even of Persian deserters from the Chosroo. +But Narses’ policy is the old Roman one—Teuton must +destroy Teuton. And it succeeds.</p> +<p>In spite of some trouble with the Franks, who are holding +Venetia, he marches down victorious through the wasted land, and +Totila marches to meet him in the Apennines. The hero makes +his last speech. He says, ‘There will be no need to +talk henceforth. This day will end the war. They are +not to fear these hired Huns, Herules, Lombards, fighting for +money. Let them hold together like desperate +men.’ So they fight it out. The Goths depending +entirely on the lance, the Romans on a due use of every kind of +weapon. The tremendous charge of the Gothic knights is +stopped by showers of Hun and Herule arrows, and they roll back +again and again in disorder on the foot: but in spite of the far +superior numbers of the Romans, it is not till nightfall that +Narses orders a general advance of his line. The Goths try +one last charge; but appalled by the numbers of the enemy, break +up, and, falling back on the foot, throw them into confusion, and +all is lost.</p> +<p>The foot are cut down flying. The knights ride for their +lives. Totila and five horsemen are caught up by Asbad the +Gepid chief. Asbad puts his lance in rest, not knowing who +was before him. ‘Dog,’ cries Totila’s +page, ‘wilt thou strike thy lord?’ But it is +too late. Asbad’s lance goes through his back, and he +drops on his horse’s neck. Scipwar (Shipward) the +Goth wounds Asbad, and falls wounded himself. The rest +carry off Totila. He dies that night, after reigning eleven +stormy years.</p> +<p>The Goths flee across the Po. There is one more struggle +for life, and one more hero left. Teia by name, ‘the +slow one,’ slow, but strong. He shall be king +now. They lift him on the shield, and gather round him +desperate, but determined to die hard. He finds the +treasure of Totila, hid in Pisa. He sends to Theudebald and +his Franks. Will they help him against the Roman, and they +shall have the treasure; the last remnant of the Nibelungen +hoard. No. The Luegenfelden will not come. They +will stand by and see the butchery, on the chance of getting all +Italy for themselves. Narses storms Rome—or rather a +little part of it round Hadrian’s Mole, which the Goths had +fortified; and the Goths escape down into Campania, mad with +rage.</p> +<p>That victory of Narses, says Procopius, brought only a more +dreadful destruction on the Roman senate and people. The +Goths, as they go down, murder every Roman they meet. The +day of grace which Totila had given them is over. The +Teutons in Narses’ army do much the same. What matter +to Burgunds and Herules who was who, provided they had any thing +to be plundered of? Totila has allowed many Roman senators +to live in Campania. They hear that Narses has taken Rome, +they begin to flock to the ghastly ruin. Perhaps there will +be once again a phantom senate, phantom consuls, under the Romani +nominis umbram. The Goths catch them, and kill them to a +man. And there is an end of the Senatus Populusque +Romanus.</p> +<p>The end is near now. And yet these terrible Goths cannot +be killed out of the way. On the slopes of Vesuvius, by +Nuceria, they fortify a camp; and as long as they are masters of +the neighbouring sea, for two months they keep Narses at +bay. At last he brings up an innumerable fleet, cuts off +their supplies; and then the end comes. The Goths will die +like desperate men on foot. They burst out of camp, turn +their horses loose, after the fashion of German knights—One +hears of the fashion again and again in the middle age,—and +rush upon the enemy in deep solid column. The Romans have +hardly time to form some sort of line; and then not the real +Romans, I presume, but the Burgunds and Gepids, turn their horses +loose like the Goths. There is no need for tactics; the +fight is hand to hand; every man, says Procopius, rushing at the +man nearest him.</p> +<p>For a third of the day Teia fights in front, sheltered by his +long pavisse, stabbing with a mighty lance at the mob which makes +at him, as dogs at a boar at bay. Procopius is awed by the +man. Most probably he saw him with his own eyes. +Second in valour, he says, to none of the Heroes.</p> +<p>Again and again his shield is full of darts. Without +moving a foot, without turning an inch right or left, says +Procopius, he catches another from his shield-bearer, and fights +on. At last he has twelve lances in his shield, and cannot +move it: coolly he calls for a fresh one, as if he were fixed to +the soil, thrusts back the enemy with his left hand, and stabs at +them with his right. But his time is come. As he +shifts his shield for a moment his chest is exposed, and a +javelin is through him. And so ends the last hero of the +East Goths. They put his head upon a pole, and carry it +round the lines to frighten the Goths. The Goths are long +past frightening.</p> +<p>All day long, and all the next day, did the Germans fight on, +Burgund and Gepid against Goth, neither giving nor taking +quarter, each man dying where he stood, till human strength could +bear up no longer, while Narses sat by, like an ugly Troll as he +was, smiling to see the Teuton slay the Teuton, for the sake of +their common enemy. Then the Goths sent down to +Narses. They were fighting against God. They would +give in, and go their ways peaceably, and live with some other +Teuton nations after their own laws. They had had enough of +Italy, poor fellows, and of the Nibelungen hoard. Only +Narses, that they might buy food on the journey back, must let +them have their money, which he had taken in various towns of +Italy.</p> +<p>Narses agreed. There was no use fighting more with +desperate men. They should go in peace. And he kept +his faith with them. Perhaps he dared not break it. +He let them go, like a wounded lion crawling away from the +hunter, up through Italy, and over the Po, to vanish. They +and their name became absorbed in other nations, and history +knows the East Goths no more.</p> +<p>So perished, by their own sins, a noble nation; and in +perishing, destroyed utterly the Roman people. After war +and famine followed as usual dreadful pestilence, and Italy lay +waste for years. Henceforth the Italian population was not +Roman, but a mixture of all races, with a most powerful, but an +entirely new type of character. Rome was no more +Senatorial, but Papal.</p> +<p>And why did these Goths perish, in spite of all their valour +and patriotism, at the hands of mercenaries?</p> +<p>They were enervated, no doubt, as the Vandals had been in +Africa, by the luxurious southern climate, with its gardens, +palaces, and wines. But I have indicated a stronger reason +already:—they perished because they were a slave-holding +aristocracy.</p> +<p>We must not blame them. All men then held slaves: but +the original sin was their ruin, though they knew it not. +It helped, doubtless, to debauch them; to tempt them to the +indulgence of those fierce and greedy passions, which must, in +the long run, lower the morality of slaveholders; and which, as +Totila told them, had drawn down on them the anger of +heaven. But more; though they reformed their morals, and +that nobly, under the stern teaching of affliction, that could +not save them. They were ruined by the inherent weakness of +all slaveholding states; the very weakness which had ruined, in +past years, the Roman Empire. They had no middle class, who +could keep up their supplies, by exercising for them during war +the arts of peace. They had no lower class, whom they dare +entrust with arms, and from whom they might recruit their +hosts. They could not call a whole population into the +field, and when beaten in that field, carry on, as Britain would +when invaded, a guerilla warfare from wood to wood, and hedge to +hedge, as long as a coign of vantage-ground was left. They +found themselves a small army of gentlemen, chivalrous and +valiant, as slaveholders of our race have always been; but +lessening day by day from battle and disease, with no means of +recruiting their numbers; while below them and apart from them +lay the great mass of the population, helpless, unarmed, +degraded, ready to side with any or every one who would give them +bread, or let them earn it for themselves (for slaves must eat, +even though their masters starve), and careless of, if not even +hostile to, their masters’ interests, the moment those +masters were gone to the wars.</p> +<p>In such a case, nothing was before them, save certain defeat +at last by an enemy who could pour in ever fresh troops of +mercenaries, and who had the command of the seas.</p> +<p>I may seem to be describing the case of a modern and just as +valiant and noble a people. I do not mention its +name. The parallel, I fear, is too complete, not to have +already suggested itself to you.</p> +<h2>LECTURE VII—PAULUS DIACONUS</h2> +<p>And now I come to the final settlement of Italy and the +Lombard race; and to do that well, I must introduce you to-day to +an old chronicler—a very valuable, and as far as we know, +faithful writer—Paul Warnefrid, alias Paul the Deacon.</p> +<p>I shall not trouble you with much commentary on him; but let +him, as much as possible, tell his own story. He may not be +always quite accurate, but you will get no one more +accurate. In the long run, you will know nothing about the +matter, save what he tells you; so be content with what you can +get. Let him shew you what sort of an account of his +nation, and the world in general, a Lombard gentleman and +clergyman could give, at the end of the 8th century.</p> +<p>You recollect the Lombards, of whom Tacitus says, +‘Longobardos paucitas nobilitat.’ Paulus +Warnefrid was one of their descendants, and his history carries +out the exact truth of Tacitus’ words. He too speaks +of them as a very small tribe. He could not foresee how +much the ‘nobilitat’ meant. He knew his folk as +a brave semi-feudal race, who had conquered the greater part of +Italy, and tilled and ruled it well; who were now conquered by +Charlemagne, and annexed to the great Frank Empire, but without +losing anything of their distinctive national character. He +did not foresee that they would become the architects, the +merchants, the goldsmiths, the bankers, the scientific +agriculturists of all Europe. We know it. Whenever in +London or any other great city, you see a ‘Lombard +Street,’ an old street of goldsmiths and bankers—or +the three golden balls of Lombardy over a pawnbroker’s +shop—or in the country a field of rye-grass, or a patch of +lucerne—recollect this wise and noble people, and thank the +Lombards for what they have done for mankind.</p> +<p>Paulus is a garrulous historian, but a valuable one, just +because he is garrulous. Though he turned monk and deacon +in middle life, he has not sunk the man in the monk, and become a +cosmopolite, like most Roman ecclesiastics, who have no love or +hate for human beings save as they are friends or enemies of the +pope, or their own abbey. He has retained enough of the +Lombard gentleman to be proud of his family, his country, and the +old legends of his race, which he tells, half-ashamed, but with +evident enjoyment.</p> +<p>He was born at beautiful Friuli, with the jagged snow-line of +the Alps behind him, and before him the sun and the sea, and the +plains of Po; he was a courtier as a boy in Desiderius’ +court at Pavia, and then, when Charlemagne destroyed the Lombard +monarchy, seems to have been much with the great king at +Aix. He certainly ended his life as a Benedictine monk, at +Monte Casino, about 799; having written a Life of St. Gregory; +Homilies long and many; the Appendix to Eutropius (the Historia +Miscella, as it is usually called) up to Justinian’s time; +and above all, this history of the Lombards, his forefathers, +which I shall take as my text.</p> +<p>To me, and I believe to the great German antiquaries, his +history seems a model history of a nation. You watch the +people and their story rise before you out of fable into fact; +out of the dreary darkness of the unknown north, into the clear +light of civilized Roman history.</p> +<p>The first chapter is ‘Of Germany, how it nourishes much +people, and therefore many nations go forth of it.’ +The reason which he gives for the immense population is +significant. The further to the north, and the colder, the +more healthy he considers the world to be, and more fit for +breeding human beings; whereas the south, being nearer to the +heat of the sun, always abounds with diseases. The fact +really is, I presume, that Italy (all the south which he knew), +and perhaps most of the once Roman empire, were during the 6th +and 7th centuries pestilential. Ruined cities, stopt +watercourses, cultivated land falling back into marsh and desert, +a soil too often saturated with human corpses—offered all +the elements for pestilence. If the once populous Campagna +of Rome be now uninhabitable from malaria, what must it have been +in Paul Warnefrid’s time?</p> +<p>Be that as it may, this is his theory.</p> +<p>Then he tells us how his people were at first called Winils; +and how they came out of Scania Insula. Sweden is often, +naturally, an island with the early chroniclers; only the south +was known to them. The north was magical, unknown, +Quenland, the dwelling-place of Yotuns, Elves, Trolls, +Scratlings, and all other uncanny inhumanities. The Winils +find that they are growing too many for Scanland, and they divide +into three parties. Two shall stay behind, and the third go +out to seek their fortunes. Which shall go is to be decided +by lot. The third on whom the lot falls choose as +war-kings, two brothers, Ayo and Ibor, and with them their +mother, Gambara, the Alruna-wife, prudent and wise +exceedingly—and they go forth.</p> +<p>But before Paul can go too, he has a thing or two to say, +which he must not forget, about the wild mysterious north from +which his forefathers came. First how, in those very +extreme parts of Germany, in a cave on the ocean shore, lie the +seven sleepers. How they got thither from Ephesus, I cannot +tell, still less how they should be at once there on the Baltic +shore, and at Ephesus—as Mohammed himself believed, and +Edward the Confessor taught—and at Marmoutier by Tours, and +probably elsewhere beside. Be that as it may, there they +are, the seven martyrs, sleeping for ever in their Roman dresses, +which some wild fellow tried to pull off once, and had his arms +withered as a punishment. And Paul trusts that they will +awake some day, and by their preaching save the souls of the +heathen Wends and Finns who haunt those parts.</p> +<p>The Teutonic knights, however, and not the seven sleepers, did +that good work.</p> +<p>Only their dog is not with them, it appears;—the sacred +dog which watches them till the judgment day, when it is to go up +to heaven, with Noah’s dove, and Balaam’s ass, and +Alborah the camel, and all the holy beasts. The dog must +have been left behind at Ephesus.</p> +<p>Then he must tell us about the Scritofinns of the Bothnia +gulf; wild Lapps and Finns, who have now retreated before the +Teutonic race. In Paul Warnefrid’s eyes they are +little wild hopping creatures—whence they derive their +name, he says—Scritofinns, the hopping, or scrambling +Finns.</p> +<p>Scrattels, Skretles, often figure in the Norse tales as +hopping dwarfs, half magical <a name="citation158"></a><a +href="#footnote158" class="citation">[158]</a>. The Norse +discoverers of America recognized the Skrællings in the +Esquimaux, and fled from them in panic terror; till that furious +virago Freydisa, Thorvard’s wife, and Eirek the Red’s +daughter, caught up a dead man’s sword, and put to flight, +single-handed, the legion of little imps.</p> +<p>Others, wiser, or too wise, say that Paul is wrong; that +Skrikfins is the right name, so called from their +‘screeking’, screaming, and jabbering, which +doubtless the little fellows did, loudly enough.</p> +<p>Be that as it may, they appear to Paul (or rather to his +informants, Wendish merchants probably, who came down to +Charlemagne’s court at Aix, to sell their amber and their +furs) as hopping about, he says, after the rein-deer, shooting +them with a little clumsy bow, and arrows tipt with bone, and +dressing themselves in their skins. Procopius knew these +Scritfins too (but he has got (as usual) addled in his geography, +and puts them in ultima Thule or Shetland), and tells us, over +and above the reindeer-skin dresses, that the women never nursed +their children, but went out hunting with their husbands, hanging +the papoose up to a tree, as the Lapps do now, with a piece of +deer’s marrow in its mouth to keep it employed; and +moreover, that they sacrificed their captives to a war-god (Mars +he calls him) in cruel ugly ways. All which we may fully +believe.</p> +<p>Then Paul has to tell us how in the Scritfin country there is +little or no night in midsummer, little or no day in winter; and +how the shadows there are exceeding long, and shorten to nothing +as they reach the equator,—where he puts not merely Egypt, +but Jerusalem. And how on Christmas days a man’s +shadow is nine feet long in Italy, whereas at Totonis Villam +(Thionville), as he himself has measured, it is nineteen feet and +a half. Because, he says, shrewdly enough, the further you +go from the sun, the nearer the sun seems to the horizon. +Of all which if you answer—But this is not history: I shall +reply—But it is better than history. It is the +history of history. It helps you to see how the world got +gradually known; how history got gradually to be written; how +each man, in each age, added his little grain to the great heap +of facts, and gave his rough explanation thereof; and how each +man’s outlook upon this wondrous world grew wider, clearer, +juster, as the years rolled on.</p> +<p>And therefore I have no objection at all to listen to Paul in +his next chapter, concerning the two navels of the ocean, one on +each side Britain—abysses which swallow up the water twice +a day, and twice a day spout it up again. Paul has seen, so +he seems to say, the tide, the +’Ωκεανοιο +ροας, that inexplicable wonder of the +old Greeks and Romans, running up far inland at the mouths of the +Seine and Loire; and he has to get it explained somehow, before +he can go forward with a clear conscience. One of the +navels seems to be the Mahlstrom in Norway. Of the place of +the other there is no doubt. It is close to Evodia insula, +seemingly Alderney. For a high noble of the French told him +so; he was sucked into it, ships and all, and only escaped by +clinging to a rock. And after awhile the margins of that +abyss were all left bare, leaving the Frenchman high and dry, +‘palpitating so with fear,’ says Paul, ‘that he +could hardly keep his seat.’ But when all the water +had been sucked in, out and up it came pouring again, in huge +mountains, and upon them the Frenchman’s ships, to his +intense astonishment, reappeared out of the bottomless pit; into +one of which he jumped; being, like a true Frenchman, thoroughly +master of the situation; and got safe home to tell Paul the +deacon. It is not quite the explanation of the tides which +one would have wished for: but if a French nobleman of high rank +will swear that he saw it with his own eyes, what can Paul do, in +common courtesy, but believe him?</p> +<p>Paul has observed, too, which is a fact, that there is a small +tide in his own Adriatic; and suggests modestly that there may be +a similar hole in the bottom of that sea, only a little one, the +tide being very little. After which, ‘his +prælibatis,’ he will return, he says, to his +story. And so he goes back to the famous Langbard Saga, the +old story, which he has turned out of living Teutonic verse into +dead Latin prose, and calls De Woden et Frea quædam +ridicula fabula; but can’t help for the life of him telling +it, apologizing all the time. How the Winils (his own folk) +went out to fight the Wendels, many more than them in number; and +how Gambara, the Alruna-wife, cried to Freia the goddess, and +Freia told her that whichsoever of the two armies first greeted +Woden at the sunrise should win. But the Winils are far +away on the war-road, and there is no time to send to them. +So Freia bids her take the Winil women, and dress them as +warriors, and plait their tresses over their lips for beards, and +cry to Woden; and Woden admires their long beards, and thinks +them such valiant ‘war-beasts,’ that he grants them +the victory.</p> +<p>Then Freia tells him how he has been taken in, and the old god +laughs till the clouds rattle again, and the Winils are called +Langbardr ever after.</p> +<p>But then comes in the antiquary, and says that the etymology +is worthless, and that Langbardr means long axes—(bard=an +axe)—a word which we keep in halbert, a hall-axe, or +guard’s pole-axe; and perhaps the antiquary is right.</p> +<p>But again comes in a very learned man, Dr. Latham <a +name="citation162"></a><a href="#footnote162" +class="citation">[162]</a>, and more than hints that the name is +derived from the Lange Börde, the long meadows by the side +of the Elbe: and so a good story crumbles to pieces, and</p> +<blockquote><p> ‘All charms do fly<br /> +Beneath the touch of cold philosophy.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Then follows another story, possibly from another saga. +How by reason of a great famine they had to leave Scoringia, the +shore-land, and go into Mauringia, a word which Mr. Latham +connects with the Merovingi, or Meerwing conquerors of +Gaul. Others say that it means the moorland, others +something else. All that they will ever find out we may see +for ourselves already.—A little tribe of valiant +fair-haired men, whether all Teutons, or, as Mr. Latham thinks, +Sclavonians with Teuton leaders, still intimately connected with +our own English race both by their language and their laws, +struggling for existence on the bleak brown bogs and moors, +sowing a little barley and flax, feeding a few rough cattle, +breeding a few great black horses; generation after generation +fighting their way southward, as they exhausted the barren +northern soils, or became too numerous for their marches, or +found land left waste in front of them by the emigration of some +Suevic, Vandal, or Burgund tribe. We know nothing about +them, and never shall know, save that they wore white linen +gaiters, and carried long halberts, or pole-axes, and had each an +immortal soul in him, as dear to God as yours or mine, with +immense unconscious capabilities, which their children have +proved right well.</p> +<p>Then comes another saga, how they met the Assipitti, of whom, +whether they were Tacitus’s Usipetes, of the Lower Rhine, +or Asabiden, the remnant of the Asen, who went not to Scandinavia +with Odin, we know not, and need not know; and how the Assipitti +would not let them pass; and how they told the Lombards that they +had dogheaded men in their tribe who drank men’s blood, +which Mr. Latham well explains by pointing out, in the +Traveller’s Song, a tribe of Hundings (Houndings) sons of +the hound; and how the Lombards sent out a champion, who fought +the champion of the Assipitti, and so gained leave to go on their +way.</p> +<p>Forward they go, toward the south-east, seemingly along the +German marches, the debateable land between Teuton and Sclav, +which would, mechanically speaking, be the line of least +resistance. We hear of Gothland—wherever that +happened to be just then; of Anthaib, the land held by the +Sclavonian Anten, and Bathaib, possibly the land held by the +Gepidæ, or remnant of the Goths who bided behind (as Wessex +men still say), while the Goths moved forward; and then of +Burgundhaib, wherever the Burgunds might be then. I know +not; and I will dare to say, no man can exactly know. For +no dates are given, and how can they be? The Lombards have +not yet emerged out of the dismal darkness of the north into the +light of Roman civilization; and all the history they have are a +few scraps of saga.</p> +<p>At last they take a king of the family of the Gungings, +Agilmund, son of Ayo, like the rest of the nations, says +Jornandes; for they will be no more under duces, elective +war-kings. And then follows a fresh saga (which repeats +itself in the myths of several nations), how a woman has seven +children at a birth, and throws them for shame into a pond; and +Agilmund the king, riding by, stops to see, and turns them over +with his lance; and one of the babes lays hold thereof; and the +king says, ‘This will be a great man;’ and takes him +out of the pond, and calls him Lamissohn, ‘the son of the +fishpond,’ (so it is interpreted;) who grows to be a mighty +Kemper-man, and slays an Amazon. For when they come to a +certain river, the Amazons forbid them to pass, unless they will +fight their she-champion; and Lamissohn swims over and fights the +war-maiden, and slays her; and they go on and come into a large +land and quiet, somewhere about Silesia, it would seem, and abode +there a long while.</p> +<p>Then down on them come the savage Bulgars by night, and slay +king Agilmund, and carry off his daughter; and Lamissohn follows +them, and defeats them with a great slaughter, and is made king; +and so forth: till at last they have got—how we shall never +know—near history and historic lands. For when +Odoacer and his Turklings and other confederates went up into +Rugiland, the country north of Vienna, and destroyed the Rugians, +and Fava their king, then the Lombards went down into the waste +land of the Rugians, because it was fertile, and abode there +certain years.</p> +<p>Then they moved on again, we know not why, and dwelt in the +open plains, which are called feld. One says +‘Moravia;’ but that they had surely left +behind. Rather it is the western plain of Hungary about +Comorn. Be that as it may, they quarrelled there with the +Heruli. Eutropius says that they paid the Herules tribute +for the land, and offered to pay more, if the Herules would not +attack them. Paul tells a wild saga, or story, of the +Lombard king’s daughter insulting a Herule prince, because +he was short of stature: he answered by some counter-insult; and +she, furious, had him stabbed from behind through a window as he +sat with his back to it. Then war came. The Herules, +old and practised warriors, trained in the Roman armies, despised +the wild Lombards, and disdained to use armour against them, +fighting with no clothes save girdles. Rodulf their king, +too certain of victory, sat playing at tables, and sent a man up +a tree to see how the fight went, telling him that he would cut +his head off if he said that the Herules fled; and then, touched +by some secret anxiety as to the end, spoke the fatal words +himself; and a madness from God came on the Herules; and when +they came to a field of flax, they took the blue flowers for +water, and spread out their arms to swim through, and were all +slaughtered defencelessly.</p> +<p>Then they fought with the Suevi; and their kings’ +daughters married with the kings of the Franks; and then ruled +Aldwin (a name which Dr. Latham identifies with our English +Eadwin, or Edwin, ‘the noble conqueror,’ though +Grotius translates it Audwin, ‘the old or auld +conqueror’), who brought them over the Danube into +Pannonia, between the Danube and the Drave, about the year +526. Procopius says, that they came by a grant from the +Emperor Justinian, who gave as wife to Aldwin a great niece of +Dietrich the Good, carried captive with Witigis to Byzant.</p> +<p>Thus at last they too have reached the forecourt of the Roman +Empire, and are waiting for their turn at the Nibelungen +hoard. They have one more struggle, the most terrible of +all; and then they will be for a while the most important people +of the then world.</p> +<p>The Gepidæ are in Hungary before them, now a great +people. Ever since they helped to beat the Huns at Netad, +they have been holding Attila’s old kingdom for themselves +and not attempting to move southward into the Empire; so +fulfilling their name.</p> +<p>There is continual desultory war; Justinian, according to +Procopius’ account, playing false with each, in order to +make them destroy each other. Then, once (this is +Procopius’ story, not Paul’s) they meet for a great +fight; and both armies run away by a panic terror; and Aldwin the +Lombard and Thorisend the Gepid are left alone, face to +face.—It is the hand of God, say the two wild +kings—God does not mean these two peoples to destroy each +other. So they make a truce for two years. Then the +Gepidæ call in Cutuguri, a Hunnic tribe, to help them; +then, says Procopius, Aldwin, helped by Roman mercenaries, under +Amalfrid the Goth, Theodoric’s great nephew, and +brother-in-law of Aldwin, has a great fight with the +Gepidæ. But Paul knows naught of all this: with him +it is not Aldwin, but Alboin his son, who destroys the +Gepidæ. Alboin, Grotius translates as Albe-win, +‘he who wins all:’ but Dr. Latham, true to his +opinion that the Lombards and the Angles were closely connected, +identifies it with our Ælfwine, ‘the fairy +conqueror.’</p> +<p>Aldwin, Paul says, and Thorisend fought in the +Asfeld,—wherever that may be,—and Alboin the Lombard +prince slew Thorisend the Gepid prince, and the Gepidæ were +defeated with a great slaughter.</p> +<p>Then young Alboin asked his father to let him sit at the table +with him. No, he could not do that, by Lombard custom, till +he has become son-at-arms to some neighbouring king.</p> +<p>Young Alboin takes forty thanes, and goes off to +Thorisend’s court, as the guest of his enemy. The +rites of hospitality are sacred. The king receives him, +feasts him, seats him, the slayer of his son, in his dead +son’s place. And as he looks on him he sighs; and at +last he can contain no longer. The seat, he says, I like +right well: but not the man who sits in it. One of his sons +takes fire, and begins to insult the Lombards and their white +gaiters. You Lombards have white legs like so many brood +mares. A Lombard flashes up. Go to the Asfeld, and +you will see how Lombard mares can kick. Your +brother’s bones are lying about there like any sorry +nag’s. This is too much; swords are drawn; but old +Thorisend leaps up. He will punish the first man who +strikes. Guests are sacred. Let them sit down again, +and drink their liquor in peace. And after they have drunk, +he gives Alboin his dead son’s weapons, and lets them go in +peace, like a noble gentleman.</p> +<p>This grand old King dies in peace. Aldwin dies likewise, +and to them succeed their sons, Alboin and Cunimund—the +latter probably the prince who made the jest about the +brood-mares—and they two will fight the quarrel out. +Cunimund, says Paul, began the war—of course that is his +story. Alboin is growing a great man; he has married a +daughter of Clotaire, king of the Franks: and now he takes to his +alliance the Avars, who have just burst into the Empire, wild +people who afterwards founded a great kingdom in the Danube +lands, and they ravage Cunimund’s lands. He will +fight the Lombards first, nevertheless: he can settle the Avars +after. He and his, says Paul, are slain to a man. +Alboin makes a drinking-cup of his skull, carries off his +daughter Rosamund (‘Rosy-mouth’), and a vast +multitude of captives and immense wealth. The Gepidæ +vanish from history; to this day (says Paul) slaves either of the +Lombards or the Huns (by whom he rather means Avars); and Alboin +becomes the hero of his time, praised even to Paul’s days +in sagas, Saxon and Bavarian as well as Lombard, for his +liberality and his glory. We shall see now how he has his +chance at the Nibelungen hoard.</p> +<p>He has heard enough (as all Teutons have) of Italy, its +beauty, and its weakness. He has sent five thousand chosen +warriors to Narses, to help him against Totila and the +Ostrogoths; and they have told him of the fair land and large, +with its vineyards, olive-groves, and orchards, waste by war and +pestilence, and crying out for human beings to come and till it +once more.</p> +<p>There is no force left in Italy now, which can oppose +him. Hardly any left in the Roman world. The plague +is come; to add its horrors to all the other horrors of the +time—the true old plague, as far as I can ascertain; bred, +men say, from the Serbonian bog; the plague which visited Athens +in the time of Socrates, and England in the seventeenth century: +and after the plague a famine; woe on woe, through all the dark +days of Justinian the demon-emperor. The Ostrogoths, as you +know, were extinct as a nation. The two deluges of Franks +and Allmen, which, under the two brothers Buccelin and Lothaire, +all on foot (for the French, as now, were no horsemen), had +rolled into Italy during the Gothic war, had been swallowed up, +as all things were, in the fatal gulf of Italy. Lothaire +and his army, returning laden with plunder, had rotted away like +sheep by Lake Benacus (Garda now) of drink, and of the +plague. Buccelin, entrenched among his plunder-waggons by +the Volturno stream in the far south, had waited in vain for that +dead brother and his dead host, till Narses came on him, with his +army of trained Herules and Goths; the Francisc axe and barbed +pike had proved useless before the arrows and the cavalry of the +Romans; and no more than five Allmen, says one, remained of all +that mighty host. Awful to think of: 75,000 men, they say, +in one column, 100,000 in the other: and like water they flowed +over the land; and like water they sank into the ground, and left +no trace.</p> +<p>And now Narses, established as exarch of Ravenna, a sort of +satrap, like those of the Persian Emperors, and representing the +Emperor of Constantinople, was rewarded for all his conquests and +labours by disgrace. Eunuch-like, he loved money, they +said; and eunuch-like, he was harsh and cruel. The Empress +Sophia, listening too readily to court-slanders, bade him +‘leave to men the use of arms, and come back to the palace, +to spin among the maids.’—‘Tell her,’ +said the terrible old imp, ‘I will spin her such a thread +as she shall not unravel.’</p> +<p>He went, superseded by Longinus; but not to +Constantinople. From Naples he sent (so says Paul the +Deacon) to Alboin, and bade him come and try his fortune as king +of Italy. He sent, too, (so says old Paul) presents to +tempt the simple Lombard men—such presents as children +would like—all fruits which grew in Italian orchards. +Though the gold was gone, those were still left. Great +babies they were, these Teutons, as I told you at the first; and +Narses knew it well, and had used them for his ends for many a +year.</p> +<p>Then were terrible signs seen in Italy by night; fiery armies +fighting in the sky, and streams of blood aloft, foreshadowing +the blood which should be shed.</p> +<p>Sent for or not, King Alboin came; and with him all his army, +and a mighty multitude, women, and children, and slaves; +Bavarians, Gepidæ, Bulgars, Sarmatæ, Pannonians, +Sueves, and Noricans; whose names (says Paul) remain unto this +day in the names of the villages where they settled. With +Alboin, too, came Saxons, twenty thousand of them at the least, +with wife and child. And Sigebert king of the Franks put +Suevic settlers into the lands which the Saxons had left.</p> +<p>Alboin gave up his own Hungarian land to his friends the +Avars, on the condition that he should have them back if he had +to return. But return he never did, he nor his Lombard +host. This is the end. The last invasion of +Italy. The sowing, once for all, of an Italian +people. Fresh nations were still pressing down to the rear +of the Alps, waiting for their turn to enter the Fairy +Land—not knowing, perhaps, that nothing was left therein, +but ashes and blood:—but their chance was over now: a +people were going into Italy who could hold what they got.</p> +<p>On Easter Tuesday, in the year of grace 568, they came, +seemingly by the old road; the path of Alaric and Dietrich and +the rest; the pass from Carniola, through which the rail runs now +from Laybach to Trieste. It must have been white, in those +days, with the bones of nigh 200 years. And they found +bisons, aurochsen, in the mountains, Paul says, and is not +surprised thereat, because there are plenty of them in Hungary +near by. An old man told him he had seen a skin in which +fifteen men might lie side by side. None, you must know, +are left now, save a very few in the Lithuanian forests. +Paul goes out of his way to note this fact, and so shall I.</p> +<p>Alboin left a strong guard in Friuli, and Paul’s +ancestor among them, under Gisulf his nephew, and Marphrais or +master of the horse, who now became duke of Friuli and warden of +the marches, bound to prevent the Avars following them into their +new abode. Then the human deluge spread itself slowly over +the Lombard plains. None fought with them, and none +gainsaid; for all the land was waste. The plague of three +years before, and the famine which followed it had, says Paul, +reduced the world into primæval silence. The villages +had no inhabitants but dogs; the sheep were pasturing without a +shepherd; the wild birds swarmed unhurt about the fields. +The corn was springing self-sown under the April sun, the vines +sprouting unpruned, the lucerne fields unmown, when the great +Lombard people flowed into that waste land, and gave to it their +own undying name.</p> +<p>The scanty population, worn out with misery, fled to rocks and +islands in the lakes, and to the seaport towns; but they seem to +have found the Lombards merciful masters, and bowed their necks +meekly to the inevitable yoke. The towns alone seem to have +offered resistance. Pavia Alboin besieged three years, and +could not take. He swore some wild oath of utter +destruction to all within, and would have kept it. At last +they capitulated. As Alboin rode in at St. John’s +gate, his horse slipped up; and could not rise, though the grooms +beat him with their lance-butts. A ghostly fear came on the +Lombards. ‘Remember, lord king, thy cruel oath, and +cancel it; for there are Christian folk in the city.’ +Alboin cancelled his oath, and the horse rose at once. So +Alboin spared the people of Pavia, and entered the palace of old +Dietrich the Ostrogoth, as king of Italy, as far as the gates of +Rome and Ravenna.</p> +<p>And what was his end? Such an end as he deserved; earned +and worked out for himself. A great warrior, he had +destroyed many nations, and won a fair land. A just and +wise governor, he had settled North Italy on some rough feudal +system, without bloodshed or cruelty. A passionate savage, +he died as savages deserve to die. You recollect Rosamund +his Gepid bride? In some mad drinking-bout (perhaps +cherishing still his old hatred of her family) he sent her her +father’s skull full of wine, and bade her drink before +all. She drank, and had her revenge.</p> +<p>The story has become world-famous from its horror: but I +suppose I must tell it you in its place.—How she went to +Helmichis the shield-bearer, and he bade her get Peredeo the +Kemper-man to do the deed: and how Peredeo intrigued with one of +her bower-maidens, and how Rosamund did a deed of darkness, and +deceived Peredeo; and then said to him, I am thy mistress; thou +must slay thy master, or thy master thee. And how he, like +Gyges in old Herodotus’s tale, preferred to survive; and +how Rosamund bound the king’s sword to his bedstead as he +slept his mid-day sleep, and Peredeo did the deed; and how Alboin +leapt up, and fought with his footstool, but in vain. And +how, after he was dead, Rosamund became Helmichis’ leman, +as she had been Peredeo’s, and fled with him to Ravenna, +with all the treasure and Alpswintha, Alboin’s daughter by +the Frankish wife; and how Longinus the exarch persuaded her to +poison Helmichis, and marry him; and how she gave Helmichis the +poisoned cup as he came out of the bath, and he saw by the light +of her wicked eyes that it was poison, and made her drink the +rest; and so they both fell dead. And then how Peredeo and +the treasure were sent to the Emperor at Constantinople; and how +Peredeo slew a great lion in the theatre; and how Tiberius, when +he saw that he was so mighty a man of his hands, bade put his +eyes out; and how he hid two knives in his sleeves, and slew with +them two great chamberlains of the Emperor; and so died, like +Samson, says old Paul, having got good weregeld for the loss of +his eyes—a man for either eye.</p> +<p>And old Narses died at Rome, at a great age; and they wrapt +him in lead, and sent him to Byzant with all his wealth. +But some say that while he was still alive, he hid his wealth in +a great cistern, and slew all who knew of it save one old man, +and swore him never to reveal the place. But after +Narses’ death that old man went to Constantinople to +Tiberius the Cæsar, and told him how he could not die with +that secret on his mind; and so Tiberius got all the money, so +much that it took many days to carry away, and gave it all to the +poor, as was his wont.</p> +<p>A myth—a fable: but significant, as one more attempt to +answer the question of all questions in a Teuton’s +mind—What had become of the Nibelungen hoard? What +had become of all the wealth of Rome?</p> +<h2>LECTURE VIII—THE CLERGY AND THE HEATHEN</h2> +<p>I asked in my first lecture, ‘What would become of the +forest children, unless some kind saint or hermit took pity on +them?’</p> +<p>I used the words saint and hermit with a special +purpose. It was by the influence, actual or imaginary, of +such, that the Teutons, after the destruction of the Roman +empire, were saved from becoming hordes of savages, destroying +each other by continual warfare.</p> +<p>What our race owes, for good and for evil, to the Roman +clergy, I shall now try to set before you.</p> +<p>To mete out to them their due share of praise and blame is, I +confess, a very difficult task. It can only be fulfilled by +putting oneself, as far as possible, in their place, and making +human allowance for the circumstances, utterly novel and +unexpected, in which they found themselves during the Teutonic +invasions. Thus, perhaps, we may find it true of some of +them, as of others, that ‘Wisdom is justified of all her +children.’</p> +<p>That is a hard saying for human nature. Justified of her +children she may be, after we have settled which are to be her +children and which not: but of all her children? That is a +hard saying. And yet was not every man from the beginning +of the world, who tried with his whole soul to be right, and to +do good, a child of wisdom, of whom she at least will be +justified, whether he is justified or not? He may have had +his ignorances, follies, weaknesses, possibly crimes: but he +served the purpose of his mighty mother. He did, even by +his follies, just what she wanted done; and she is justified of +all her children.</p> +<p>This may sound like optimism: but it also sounds like truth to +any one who has fairly studied that fantastic page of history, +the contrast between the old monks and our own heathen +forefathers. The more one studies the facts, the less one +is inclined to ask, ‘Why was it not done +better?’—the more inclined to ask, ‘Could it +have been done better?’ Were not the celibate clergy, +from the fifth to the eighth centuries, exceptional agents fitted +for an exceptional time, and set to do a work which in the then +state of the European races, none else could have done? At +least, so one suspects, after experience of their chronicles and +legends, sufficient to make one thoroughly detest the evil which +was in their system: but sufficient also to make one thoroughly +love many of the men themselves.</p> +<p>A few desultory sketches, some carefully historical, the rest +as carefully compiled from common facts, may serve best to +illustrate my meaning.</p> +<p>The monk and clergyman, whether celibate or not, worked on the +heathen generally in one of three capacities: As tribune of the +people; as hermit or solitary prophet; as colonizer; and in all +three worked as well as frail human beings are wont to do, in +this most piecemeal world.</p> +<p>Let us look first at the Hermits. All know what an +important part they play in old romances and ballads. All +are not aware that they played as important a part in actual +history. Scattered through all wildernesses from the cliffs +of the Hebrides to the Sclavonian marches, they put forth a +power, uniformly, it must be said, for good.</p> +<p>Every one knows how they appear in the old romances.—How +some Sir Bertrand or other, wearied with the burden of his sins, +stumbles on one of these Einsiedler, ‘settlers +alone,’ and talks with him; and goes on a wiser and a +better man. How he crawls, perhaps, out of some wild +scuffle, ‘all-to bebled,’ and reeling to his +saddlebow; and ‘ever he went through a waste land, and +rocks rough and strait, so that it him seemed he must surely +starve; and anon he heard a little bell, whereat he marvelled; +and betwixt the water and the wood he was aware of a chapel, and +an hermitage; and there a holy man said mass, for he was a +priest, and a great leech, and cunning withal. And Sir +Bertrand went in to him and told him all his case—how he +fought Sir Marculf for love of the fair Ellinore, and how the +king bade part them, and how Marculf did him open shame at the +wineboard, and how he went about to have slain him privily, but +could not; and then how he went and wasted Marculf’s lands, +house with byre, kine with corn, till a strong woman smote him +over the head with a quern-stone, and all-to broke his +brain-pan;’ and so forth—the usual story of mad +passion, drink, pride, revenge.</p> +<p>‘And there the holy man a-read him right godly doctrine, +and shrived him, and gave him an oath upon the blessed Gospels, +that fight he should not, save in his liege lord’s quarrel, +for a year and a day. And there he abode till he was well +healed, he and his horse.’</p> +<p>Must not that wild fighting Bertrand have gone away from that +place a wiser and a better man? Is it a matter to be +regretted, or otherwise, that such men as the hermit were to be +found in that forest, to mend Bertrand’s head and his +morals, at the same time? Is it a matter to be regretted, +or otherwise, that after twenty or thirty years more of fighting +and quarrelling and drinking, this same Sir +Bertrand—finding that on the whole the lust of the flesh, +the lust of the eye, and the pride of life, were poor paymasters, +and having very sufficient proof, in the ends of many a friend +and foe, that the wages of sin are death—‘fell to +religion likewise, and was a hermit in that same place, after the +holy man was dead; and was made priest of that same chapel; and +died in honour, having succoured many good knights, and wayfaring +men’?</p> +<p>One knows very well that it would not be right now; that it is +not needed now. It is childish to repeat that, when the +question is, was it right then—or, at least, as right as +was possible then? Was it needed then—or, at least, +the nearest thing to that which was needed?</p> +<p>If it was, why should not wisdom be justified of all her +children?</p> +<p>One hopes that she was; for certainly, if any men ever needed +to be in the right, lest they should be of all men most +miserable, it was these same old hermits. Praying and +preaching continually, they lived on food which dogs would not +eat, in dens in which dogs ought not to live. They had +their reasons. Possibly they knew their own business +best. Possibly also they knew their neighbour’s +business somewhat; they knew that such generations as they lived +in could not be taught, save by some extravagant example of this +kind, some caricature, as it were, of the doctrines which were to +be enforced. Nothing less startling, perhaps, could have +touched the dull hearts, have convinced the dull brains, of +fierce, ignorant, and unreasoning men.</p> +<p>Ferocity, lawlessness, rapine, cruelty, and—when they +were glutted and debauched by the spoils of the Roman +empire—sensuality, were the evils which were making Europe +uninhabitable for decent folk, and history—as Milton called +it—a mere battle of kites and crows. What less than +the example of the hermit—especially when that hermit was a +delicate and high-born woman—could have taught men the +absolute superiority of soul to body, of spiritual to physical +force, of spiritual to physical pleasure, and have said to them, +not in vain words, but solid acts—‘All that you +follow is not the way of life. The very opposite to it is +the way of life. The wages of sin are death; and you will +find them so,—in this life the victims of your own +passions, and of the foes whom your crimes arouse, and in life to +come of hell for ever. But I tell you I have no mind to go +to hell. I have a mind to go to heaven; and I know my mind +right well. If the world is to be such as this, and the +rulers thereof such as you, I will flee from you. I will +not enter into the congregation of sinners, neither will I cast +in my lot with the bloodthirsty. I will be alone with God +and His universe. I will go to the mountain cave or to the +ocean cliff, and there, while the salt wind whistles through my +hair, I will be stronger than you, safer than you, richer than +you, happier than you. Richer than you, for I shall have +for my companion the beatific vision of God, and of all things +and beings God-like, fair, noble, just, and merciful. +Stronger than you, because virtue will give me a power over the +hearts of men such as your force cannot give you; and you will +have to come to my lonely cell, and ask me to advise you, and +teach you, and help you against the consequences of your own +sins. Safer than you, because God in whom I trust will +protect me: and if not, I have still the everlasting life of +heaven, which this world cannot give or take away. So go +your ways, fight and devour one another, the victims of your own +lusts. I am minded to be a good man; and to be that, I will +give up—as you have made all other methods impossible for +me—all which seems to make life worth having’? +Oh! instead of finding fault with such men; instead of, with +vulturine beak, picking out the elements of Manichæism, of +conceit, of discontent, of what not human frailty and ignorance, +which may have been in them, let us honour the enormous moral +force which enabled them so to bear witness that not the mortal +animal, but the immortal spirit, is the Man; and that when all +which outward circumstance can give is cast away, the Man still +lives for ever, by God, and in God.</p> +<p>And they did teach that lesson. They were good, while +other men were bad; and men saw the beauty of goodness, and felt +the strength of it, and worshipped it in blind savage +admiration. Read Roswede’s Vitæ Patrum +Eremiticorum; read the legends of the hermits of the German +forests; read Colgan’s Lives of the Irish Saints; and see +whether, amid all fantastic, incredible, sometimes immoral myths, +the goodness of life of some one or other is not the historic +nucleus, round which the myths, and the worship of the saint, +have crystallized and developed.</p> +<p>Take, for instance, the exquisite hymn of St. Bridget, which +Colgan attributes to the sixth century: though it is probably +much later; that has nothing to do with the argument:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘Bridget, the victorious, she loved not the +world;<br /> +She sat on it as a gull sits on the ocean;<br /> +She slept the sleep of a captive mother,<br /> +Mourning after her absent child.</p> +<p>She suffered not much from evil tongues;<br /> +She held the blessed faith of the Trinity;<br /> +Bridget, the mother of my Lord of Heaven,<br /> +The best among the sons of the Lord.</p> +<p>She was not querulous, nor malevolent;<br /> +She loved not the fierce wrangling of women;<br /> +She was not a backbiting serpent, or a liar;<br /> +She sold not the Son of God for that which passes away.</p> +<p>She was not greedy of the goods of this life;<br /> +She gave away without gall, without slackness;<br /> +She was not rough to wayfaring men;<br /> +She handled gently the wretched lepers.</p> +<p>She built her a town in the plains (of Kildare);<br /> +And dead, she is the patroness of many peoples.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>I might comment much on this quotation. I might point +out how St. Bridget is called the mother of the Lord, and by +others, the Mary of the Irish, the ‘Automata coeli +regina,’ and seems to have been considered at times as an +avatar or incarnation of the blessed Virgin. I might more +than hint how that appellation, as well as the calling of Christ +‘the best of the sons of the Lord,’ in an orthodox +Catholic hymn, seems to point to the remnants of an older creed, +possibly Buddhist, the transition whence towards Catholic +Christianity was slow and imperfect. I might make merry +over the fact that there are many Bridgets, some say eleven; even +as there are three or four St. Patricks; and raise learned doubts +as to whether such persons ever existed, after that Straussian +method of pseudo-criticism which cometh not from above, from the +Spirit of God, nor yet indeed from below, from the sound region +of fact, but from within, out of the naughtiness of the heart, +defiling a man. I might weaken, too, the effect of the hymn +by going on with the rest of it, and making you smile at its +childish miracles and portents; but I should only do a foolish +thing, by turning your minds away from the broad fact that St. +Bridget, or various persons who got, in the lapse of time, massed +together under the name of St. Bridget, were eminently good +women.</p> +<p>It matters little whether these legends are historically +correct. Their value lies in the moral of them. And +as for their real historical correctness, the Straussian argument +that no such persons existed, because lies are told of them, is, +I hold, most irrational. The falsehood would not have been +invented unless it had started in a truth. The high moral +character ascribed to them would never have been dreamed of by +persons who had not seen living instances of that +character. Man’s imagination does not create; it only +reproduces and recombines its own experience. It does so in +dreams. It does so, as far as the moral character of the +saint is concerned, in the legend; and if there had not been +persons like St. Bridget in Ireland, the wild Irish could never +have imagined them.</p> +<p>Therefore it matters little to a wise man, standing on the top +of Croagh Patrick, the grandest mountain perhaps, with the +grandest outlook, in these British isles, as he looks on the wild +Irish there on pattern days, up among the Atlantic clouds, +crawling on bare and bleeding knees round St. Patrick’s +cell,—it matters little, I say, to the wise man, whether +St. Patrick himself owned the ancient image which is worshipped +on that mountain peak, or the ancient bell which till late years +hung in the sanctuary,—such a strange oblong bell as the +Irish saints carried with them to keep off the demons—the +magic bells which appear (as far as I am aware) in the legends of +no country till you get to Tartary and the Buddhists;—such +a bell as came (or did not come) down from heaven to St. Senan; +such a bell as St. Fursey sent flying through the air to greet +St. Cuanady at his devotions when he could not come himself; such +a bell as another saint, wandering in the woods, rang till a stag +came out of the covert, and carried his burden for him on his +horns. It matters as little to the wise man whether that +bell belonged to St. Patrick, as whether all these child’s +dreams are dreams. It matters little to him, too, whether +St. Patrick did, or did not stand on that mountain peak, +‘in the spirit and power of Elias’ (after whom it was +long named), fasting, like Elias, forty days and forty nights, +wrestling with the demons of the storm, and the snakes of the +fen, and the Peishta-more (the monstrous Python of the lakes), +which assembled at the magic ringing of his bell, till he +conquered not by the brute force of a Hercules and Theseus, and +the monster-quellers of old Greece, but by the spiritual force of +which (so the text was then applied) it is written, ‘This +kind cometh not out but by prayer and fasting,’ till he +smote the evil things with ‘the golden rod of Jesus,’ +and they rolled over the cliff, in hideous rout, and perished in +the Atlantic far below. But it matters much to a wise man +that under all these symbols (not childish at all, but most +grand, to the man who knows the grand place of which they are +told), there is set forth the victory of a good and beneficent +man over evil, whether of matter or of spirit. It matters +much to him that that cell, that bell, that image are tokens that +if not St. Patrick, some one else, at least, did live and worship +on that mountain top, in remote primæval times, in a place +in which we would not, perhaps could not, endure life a +week. It matters much to him that the man who so dwelt +there, gained such a power over the minds of the heathen round +him, that five millions of their Christian descendants worship +him, and God on account of him, at this day.</p> +<p>St. Ita, again. It matters little that she did +not—because she could not—perform the miracles +imputed to her. It matters little whether she had or +not—as I do not believe her to have had—a regularly +organized convent of nuns in Ireland during the sixth +century. It matters little if the story which follows is a +mere invention of the nuns in some after-century, in order to +make a good title for the lands which they held—a trick but +too common in those days. But it matters much that she +should have been such a person, that such a story as this, when +told of her, should have gained belief:—How the tribes of +Hy-Connell, hearing of her great holiness, came to her with their +chiefs, and offered her all the land about her cell. But +she, not wishing to be entangled with earthly cares, accepted but +four acres round her cell, for a garden of herbs for her and her +nuns. And the simple wild Irish were sad and angry, and +said, ‘If thou wilt not take it alive, thou shalt take it +when thou art dead. So they chose her then and there for +their patroness, and she blessed them with many blessings, which +are fulfilled unto this day; and when she migrated to the Lord +they gave her all the land, and her nuns hold it to this day, the +land of Hy-Connell on the east Shannon bank, at the roots of +Luachra mountain.’</p> +<p>What a picture! One hopes that it may be true, for the +sake of its beauty and its pathos. The poor, savage, +half-naked, and, I fear, on the authority of St. Jerome and +others, now and then cannibal Celts, with their saffron scarfs, +and skenes, and darts, and glibs of long hair hanging over their +hypo-gorillaceous visages, coming to the prophet maiden, and +asking her to take their land, for they could make no decent use +of it themselves; and look after them, body and soul, for they +could not look after themselves; and pray for them to her God, +for they did not know how to pray to Him themselves. If any +man shall regret that such an event happened to any savages on +this earth, I am, I confess, sorry for him.</p> +<p>St. Severinus, again, whom I have mentioned to you more than +once:—none of us can believe that he made a dead corpse +(Silvinus the priest, by name) sit up and talk with him on its +road to burial. None of us need believe that he stopped the +plague at Vienna by his prayers. None of us need attribute +to anything but his sagacity the Divine revelations whereby he +predicted the destruction of a town for its wickedness, and +escaped thence, like Lot, alone; or by which he discovered, +during the famine of Vienna, that a certain rich widow had much +corn hidden in her cellars: but there are facts enough, credible +and undoubted, concerning St. Severinus, the apostle of Austria, +to make us trust that in him, too, wisdom was justified of all +her children.</p> +<p>You may remark, among the few words which have been as yet +said of St. Severinus, a destruction, a plague, and a +famine. Those words are a fair sample of St. +Severinus’s times, and of the circumstances into which he +voluntarily threw himself. About the middle of the fifth +century there appears in the dying Roman province of Noricum +(Austria we now call it) a strange gentleman, eloquent and +learned beyond all, and with the strangest power of melting and +ruling the hearts of men. Who he is he will not tell, save +that his name is Severinus, a right noble name without +doubt. Gradually it oozes out that he has been in the far +East, through long travels and strange dangers, through many +cities and many lands; but he will tell nothing. He is the +servant of God, come hither to try to be of use. He +certainly could have come for no other reason, unless to buy +slaves; for Austria was at that time the very highway of the +nations, the centre of the human Mâhlstrom, in which Huns, +Gepiden, Allmannen, Rugen, and a dozen wild tribes more, wrestled +up and down round the starving and beleaguered Roman towns of +that once fertile and happy province. A man who went there +for his own pleasure, or even devotion, would have been as wise +as one who had built himself last summer a villa on the +Rappahannock, or retired for private meditation to the orchard of +Hougoumont during the battle of Waterloo.</p> +<p>Nevertheless, there Severinus stayed till men began to +appreciate him; and called him, and not unjustly, Saint. +Why not? He preached, he taught, he succoured, he advised, +he fed, he governed; he turned aside the raids of the wild German +kings; he gained a divine power over their hearts; he taught them +something of God and of Christ, something of justice and mercy; +something of peace and unity among themselves; till the fame ran +through all the Alps, and far away into the Hungarian marches, +that there was a prophet of God arisen in the land; and before +the unarmed man, fasting and praying in his solitary cell on the +mountain above Vienna, ten thousand knights and champions +trembled, who never had trembled at the sight of armed hosts.</p> +<p>Who would deny that man the name of saint? And who, if +by that sagacity which comes from the combination of intellect +and virtue, he sometimes seemed miraculously to foretell coming +events, would deny him the name of prophet also?</p> +<p>If St. Severinus be the type of the monk as prophet, St. +Columba may stand as the type of the missionary monk; the good +man strengthened by lonely meditation; but using that strength +not for selfish fanaticism, but for the good of men; going forth +unwillingly out of his beloved solitude, that he may save +souls. Round him, too, cluster the usual myths. He +drives away with the sign of the cross a monster which attacks +him at a ford. He expels from a fountain the devils who +smote with palsy and madness all who bathed therein. He +sees by a prophetic spirit, he sitting in his cell in Ireland, a +great Italian town destroyed by a volcano. His friends +behold a column of light rising from his head as he celebrates +mass. Yes; but they also tell of him, ‘that he was +angelical in look, brilliant in speech, holy in work, clear in +intellect, great in council.’ That he ‘never +passed an hour without prayer, or a holy deed, or reading of the +Scriptures (for these old monks had Bibles, and knew them by +heart too, in spite of all that has been written to the +contrary), that he was of so excellent a humility and charity, +bathing his disciples’ feet when they came home from +labour, and carrying corn from the mill on his own back, that he +fulfilled the precept of his Master, ‘He that will be the +greatest among you, let him be as your servant.’</p> +<p>They also tell of him (and this is fact and history) how he +left his monastery of Derm Each, ‘the field of oaks,’ +which we call Derry, and went away at the risk of his life to +preach to the wild Picts of Galloway, and founded the great +monastery of Iona, and that succession of abbots from whom +Christianity spread over the south of Scotland and north of +England, under his great successor Aidan.</p> +<p>Aidan has his myths likewise. They tell of him how he +stilled the sea-waves with holy oil; how he turned back on Penda +and his Saxons the flames with which the heathen king was trying +to burn down Bamborough walls. But they tell, too (and Bede +had heard it from those who had known Aidan in the flesh) of +‘his love of peace and charity, his purity and humility, +his mind superior to avarice or pride, his authority, becoming a +minister of Christ, in reproving the haughty and powerful, and +his tenderness in relieving the afflicted, and defending the +poor.’ Who, save one who rejoiceth in evil, instead +of rejoicing in the truth, will care to fix his eyes for a moment +upon the fairy tales which surround such a story, as long as +there shines out from among them clear and pure, in spite of all +doctrinal errors, the grace of God, the likeness of Jesus Christ +our Lord?</p> +<p>Let us look next at the priest as Tribune of the people, +supported usually by the invisible, but most potent presence of +the saint, whose relics he kept. One may see that side of +his power in Raphael’s immortal design of Attila’s +meeting with the Pope at the gates of Rome, and recoiling as he +sees St. Peter and St. Paul floating terrible and threatening +above the Holy City. Is it a myth, a falsehood? Not +altogether. Such a man as Attila probably would have seen +them, with his strong savage imagination, as incapable as that of +a child from distinguishing between dreams and facts, between the +subjective and the objective world. And it was on the whole +well for him and for mankind, that he should think that he saw +them, and tremble before the spiritual and the invisible; +confessing a higher law than that of his own ambition and +self-will; a higher power than that of his brute Tartar +hordes.</p> +<p>Raphael’s design is but a famous instance of an +influence which wrought through the length and breadth of the +down-trodden and dying Roman Empire, through the four fearful +centuries which followed the battle of Adrianople. The wild +licence, the boyish audacity, of the invading Teutons was never +really checked, save by the priest and the monk who worshipped +over the bones of some old saint or martyr, whose name the +Teutons had never heard.</p> +<p>Then, as the wild King, Earl, or Comes, with his wild reiters +at his heels, galloped through the land, fighting +indiscriminately his Roman enemies, and his Teutonic +rivals—harrying, slaughtering, burning by field and +wild—he was aware at last of something which made him +pause. Some little walled town, built on the ruins of a +great Roman city, with its Byzantine minster towering over the +thatched roofs, sheltering them as the oak shelters the last +night’s fungus at its base. More than once in the +last century or two, has that same town been sacked. More +than once has the surviving priest crawled out of his +hiding-place when the sound of war was past, called the surviving +poor around him, dug the dead out of the burning ruins for +Christian burial, built up a few sheds, fed a few widows and +orphans, organized some form of orderly life out of the chaos of +blood and ashes, in the name of God and St. Quemdeusvult whose +bones he guards; and so he has established a temporary theocracy, +and become a sort of tribune of the people, magistrate and +father—the only one they have. And now he will try +the might of St. Quemdeusvult against the wild king, and see if +he can save the town from being sacked once more. So out he +comes—a bishop perhaps, with priests, monks, crucifixes, +banners, litanies. The wild king must come no +further. That land belongs to no mortal man, but to St. +Quemdeusvult, martyred here by the heathen five hundred years +ago. Some old Kaiser of Rome, or it may be some former +Gothic king, gave that place to the saint for ever, and the saint +will avenge his rights. He is very merciful to those who +duly honour him: but very terrible in his wrath if he be +aroused. Has not the king heard how the Count of such a +place, only forty years before, would have carried off a maiden +from St. Quemdeusvult’s town; and when the bishop withstood +him, he answered that he cared no more for the relics of the +saint than for the relics of a dead ass, and so took the maiden +and went? But within a year and a day, he fell down dead in +his drink, and when they came to lay out the corpse, behold the +devils had carried it away, and put a dead ass in its place.</p> +<p>All which the bishop would fully believe. Why not? +He had no physical science to tell him that it was +impossible. Morally, it was in his eyes just, and therefore +probable; while as for testimony, men were content with very +little in those days, simply because they could get very +little. News progressed slowly in countries desolate and +roadless, and grew as it passed from mouth to mouth, as it did in +the Highlands a century ago, as it did but lately in the Indian +Mutiny; till after a fact had taken ten years in crossing a few +mountains and forests, it had assumed proportions utterly +fantastic and gigantic.</p> +<p>So the wild king and his wild knights pause. They can +face flesh and blood: but who can face the quite infinite terrors +of an unseen world? They are men of blood too, men of evil +lives; and conscience makes them cowards. They begin to +think that they have gone too far. Could they see the +saint, and make it up with him somewhat?</p> +<p>No. The saint they cannot see. To open his shrine +would be to commit the sin of Uzzah. Palsy and blindness +would be the least that would follow. But the dome under +which he lies all men may see; and perhaps the saint may listen, +if they speak him fair.</p> +<p>They feel more and more uncomfortable. This saint, in +heaven at God’s right hand, and yet there in the +dom-church—is clearly a mysterious, ubiquitous person, who +may take them in the rear very unexpectedly. And his +priests, with their book-learning, and their sciences, and their +strange dresses and chants—who knows what secret powers, +magical or other, they may not possess?</p> +<p>They bluster at first: being (as I have said) much of the +temper and habits, for good and evil, of English navvies. +But they grow more and more uneasy, full of childish curiosity, +and undefined dread. So into the town they go, on promise +(which they will honourably keep, being German men) of doing no +harm to the plebs, the half Roman artisans and burghers who are +keeping themselves alive here—the last dying remnants of +the civilization, and luxury, and cruelty, and wickedness, of a +great Roman colonial city; and they stare at arts and handicrafts +new to them; and are hospitably fed by bishops and priests; and +then they go, trembling and awkward, into the great dom-church; +and gaze wondering at the frescoes, and the carvings of the +arcades—marbles from Italy, porphyries from Egypt, all +patched together out of the ruins of Roman baths, and temples, +and theatres; and at last they arrive at the saint’s shrine +itself—some marble sarcophagus, most probably covered with +vine and ivy leaves, with nymphs and satyrs, long since +consecrated with holy water to a new and better use. Inside +that lies the saint, asleep, yet ever awake. So they had +best consider in whose presence they are, and fear God and St. +Quemdeusvult, and cast away the seven deadly sins wherewith they +are defiled; for the saint is a righteous man, and died for +righteousness’ sake; and those who rob the orphan and the +widow, and put the fatherless to death, them he cannot abide; and +them he will watch like an eagle of the sky, and track like a +wolf of the wood, fill he punishes them with a great +destruction. In short, the bishop preaches to the king and +his men a right noble and valiant sermon, calling things by their +true names without fear or favour, and assuming, on the mere +strength of being in the right, a tone of calm superiority which +makes the strong armed men blush and tremble before the weak and +helpless one.</p> +<p>Yes. Spirit is stronger than flesh. ‘Meekly +bend thy neck, Sicamber!’ said St. Remigius to the great +conquering King Clovis, when he stept into the baptismal +font—(not ‘Most Gracious Majesty,’ or +‘Illustrious Cæsar,’ or ‘by the grace of +God Lord of the Franks,’ but Sicamber, as a missionary +might now say Maori, or Caffre,—and yet St. +Remigius’s life was in Clovis’s hand then and +always),—‘Burn what thou hast adored, and adore what +thou hast burned!’ And the terrible Clovis trembled +and obeyed.</p> +<p>So does the wild king at the shrine of St. Quemdeusvult. +He takes his bracelet, or his jewel, and offers it civilly +enough. Will the bishop be so good as to inform the great +Earl St. Quemdeusvult, that he was not aware of his rights, or +even of his name; that perhaps he will deign to accept this +jewel, which he took off the neck of a Roman +General—that—that on the whole he is willing to make +the amende honorable, as far as is consistent with the feelings +of a nobleman; and trusts that the saint, being a nobleman too, +will be satisfied therewith.</p> +<p>After which, probably, it will appear to the wild king that +this bishop is the very man that he wants, the very opposite to +himself and his wild riders; a man pure, peaceable, just, and +brave; possessed, too, of boundless learning; who can read, +write, cipher, and cast nativities; who has a whole room full of +books and parchments, and a map of the whole world; who can talk +Latin, and perhaps Greek, as well as one of those accursed +man-eating Grendels, a Roman lawyer, or a logothete from Ravenna; +possessed, too, of boundless supernatural power;—Would the +bishop be so good as to help him in his dispute with the Count +Boso, about their respective marches in such and such a +forest? If the bishop could only settle that without more +fighting, of course he should have his reward. He would +confirm to the saint and his burg all the rights granted by +Constantine the Kaiser; and give him moreover all the meadow land +in such and such a place, with the mills and fisheries, on +service of a dish of trout from the bishop and his successors, +whenever he came that way: for the trout there were exceeding +good, that he knew. And so a bargain would be struck, and +one of those curious compromises between the spiritual and +temporal authorities take root, of which one may read at length +in the pages of M. Guizot, or Sir James Stephen.</p> +<p>And after a few years, most probably, the king would express a +wish to be baptized, at the instance of his queen who had been +won over by the bishop, and had gone down into the font some +years before; and he would bid his riders be baptized also; and +they would obey, seeing that it could do them no harm, and might +do them some good; and they would agree to live more or less +according to the laws of God and common humanity; and so one more +Christian state would be formed; one more living stone (as it was +phrased in those days) built into the great temple of God which +was called Christendom.</p> +<p>So the work was done. Can we devise any better method of +doing it? If not, let us be content that it was done +somehow, and believe that wisdom is justified of all her +children.</p> +<p>We may object to the fact, that the dom-church and its +organization grew up (as was the case in the vast majority of +instances) round the body of a saint or martyr; we may smile at +the notion of an invisible owner and protector of the soil: but +we must not overlook the broad fact, that without that prestige +the barbarians would never have been awed into humanity; without +that prestige the place would have been swept off the face of the +earth, till not one stone stood on another: and he who does not +see what a disaster for humanity that would have been, must be +ignorant that the civilization of Europe is the child of the +towns; and also that our Teutonic forefathers were by profession +destroyers of towns, and settlers apart from each other on +country freeholds. Lonely barbarism would have been the +fate of Europe, but for the monk who guarded the relics of the +saint within the walled burg.</p> +<p>This good work of the Church, in the preservation and even +resuscitation of the municipal institutions of the towns, has +been discust so well and fully by M. Guizot, M. Sismondi, and Sir +James Stephen, that I shall say no more about it, save to +recommend you to read what they have written. I go on to +point out to you some other very important facts, which my ideal +sketch exemplifies.</p> +<p>The difference between the Clergy and the Teuton conquerors +was more than a difference of creed, or of civilization. It +was an actual difference of race. They were Romans, to whom +the Teuton was a savage, speaking a different tongue, obeying +different laws, his whole theory of the universe different from +the Roman. And he was, moreover, an enemy and a +destroyer. The Teuton was to them as a Hindoo is to us, +with the terrible exception, that the positions were reversed; +that the Teuton was not the conquered, but the conqueror. +It is easy for us to feel humanity and Christian charity toward +races which we have mastered. It was not so easy for the +Roman priest to feel them toward a race which had mastered +him. His repugnance to the ‘Barbarian’ must +have been at first intense. He never would have conquered +it; he never would have become the willing converter of the +heathen, had there not been in him the Spirit of God, and firm +belief in a Catholic Church, to which all men of all races ought +alike to belong. This true and glorious idea, the only one +which has ever been or ever will be able to break down the +barriers of race, and the animal antipathy which the natural man +has to all who are not of his own kin: this idea was the sole +possession of the Roman clergy; and by it they conquered, because +it was true, and came from God.</p> +<p>But this very difference of race exposed the clergy to great +temptations. They were the only civilized men left, west of +Constantinople. They looked on the Teuton not as a man, but +as a child; to be ruled; to be petted when he did right, punished +when he did wrong; and too often cajoled into doing right, and +avoiding wrong. Craft became more and more their usual +weapon. There were great excuses for them. Their +lives and property were in continual danger. Craft is the +natural weapon of the weak against the strong. It seemed to +them, too often, to be not only natural, but spiritual also, and +therefore just and right.</p> +<p>Again, the clergy were the only organic remnants of the Roman +Empire. They claimed their privileges and lands as granted +to them by past Roman Emperors, under the Roman law. This +fact made it their interest, of course, to perpetuate that Roman +law, and to introduce it as far as they could among their +conquerors, to the expulsion of the old Teutonic laws; and they +succeeded on the whole. Of that more hereafter. +Observe now, that as their rights dated from times which to the +Teutons were pre-historic, their statements could not be checked +by conquerors who could not even read. Thence rose the +temptation to forge; to forge legends, charters, dotations, +ecclesiastical history of all kinds—an ugly and +world-famous instance of which you will hear of hereafter. +To that temptation they yielded more and more as the years rolled +on, till their statements on ecclesiastical history became such +as no historian can trust, without the most plentiful +corroboration.</p> +<p>There were great excuses for them, in this matter, as in +others. They could not but look on the Teuton as—what +in fact and law he was—an unjust and intrusive +usurper. They could not but look on their Roman +congregations, and on themselves, as what in fact and law they +were, the rightful owners of the soil. They were but +defending or recovering their original rights. Would not +the end justify the means?</p> +<p>But more. Out of this singular position grew a doctrine, +which looks to us irrational now, but was by no means so +then. If the Church derived her rights from the extinct +Roman Cæsars, how could the Teuton conquerors interfere +with those rights? If she had owed allegiance to +Constantine or Theodosius, she certainly owed none to Dietrich, +Alboin, or Clovis. She did not hold their lands of them; +and would pay them, if she could avoid it, neither tax nor +toll. She did not recognize the sovereignty of these +Teutons as ‘ordained by God.’</p> +<p>Out of this simple political fact grew up vast +consequences. The Teuton king was a heathen or Arian +usurper. He was not a king de jure, in the eyes of the +clergy, till he was baptized into the Church, and then lawfully +anointed king by the clergy. Thus the clergy gradually +became the makers of kings; and the power of making involved a +corresponding power of unmaking, if the king rebelled against the +Church, and so cut himself off from Christendom. At best, +he was one of ‘the Princes of this world,’ from whom +the Church was free, absolutely in spiritual matters, and in +temporal matters, also de jure, and therefore de facto as far as +she could be made free. To keep the possessions of the +Church from being touched by profane hands, even that they might +contribute to the common needs of the nation, became a sacred +duty, a fixed idea, for which the clergy must struggle, +anathematize, forge if need be: but also—to do them +justice—die if need be as martyrs. The nations of +this world were nothing to them. The wars of the nations +were nothing. They were the people of God, ‘who dwelt +alone, and were not reckoned among the nations;’ their +possessions were the inheritance of God: and from this idea, +growing (as I have shewn) out of a political fact, arose the +extra-national, and too often anti-national position, which the +Roman clergy held for many ages, and of which the instinct, at +least, lingers among them in many countries. Out of it +arose, too, all after struggles between the temporal and +ecclesiastical powers. Becket, fighting to the death +against Henry II., was not, as M. Thierry thinks, the Anglo-Saxon +defying the Norman. He was the representative of the +Christian Roman defying the Teuton, on the ground of rights which +he believed to have existed while the Teuton was a heathen in the +German forests. Gradually, as the nations of Europe became +really nations, within fixed boundaries, and separate Christian +organizations, these demands of the Church became intolerable in +reason, because unnecessary in fact. But had there not been +in them at the first an instinct of right and justice, they would +never have become the fixed idea of the clerical mind; the +violation of them the one inexpiable sin; and the defence of them +(as may be seen by looking through the Romish Calendar) the most +potent qualification for saintship.</p> +<p>Yes. The clergy believed that idea deeply enough to die +for it. St. Alphege at Canterbury had been, it is said, one +of the first advisers of the ignominious payment of the Danegeld: +but there was one thing which he would not do. He would +advise the giving up of the money of the nation: but the money of +his church he would not give up. The Danes might thrust him +into a filthy dungeon: he would not take the children’s +bread and cast it unto the dogs. They might drag him out +into their husting, and threaten him with torture: but to the +drunken cry of ‘Gold! Bishop! Gold!’ his +only answer would be—Not a penny. He could not rob +the poor of Christ. And when he fell, beaten to death with +the bones and horns of the slaughtered oxen, he died in faith; a +martyr to the great idea of that day, that the gold of the Church +did not belong to the conquerors of this world.</p> +<p>But St. Alphege was an Englishman, and not a Roman. True +in the letter: but not in the spirit. The priest or monk, +by becoming such, more or less renounced his nationality. +It was the object of the Church to make him renounce it utterly; +to make him regard himself no longer as Englishman, Frank, +Lombard, or Goth: but as the representatives by an hereditary +descent, considered all the more real because it was spiritual +and not carnal, of the Roman Church; to prevent his being +entangled, whether by marriage or otherwise, in the business of +this life; out of which would flow nepotism, Simony, and Erastian +submission to those sovereigns who ought to be the servants, not +the lords of the Church. For this end no means were too +costly. St. Dunstan, in order to expel the married secular +priests, and replace them by Benedictine monks of the Italian +order of Monte Casino, convulsed England, drove her into civil +war, paralysed her monarchs one after the other, and finally left +her exhausted and imbecile, a prey to the invading Northmen: but +he had at least done his best to make the royal House of Cerdic, +and the nations which obeyed that House, understand that the +Church derived its rights not from them, but from Rome.</p> +<p>This hereditary sense of superiority on the part of the clergy +may explain and excuse much of their seeming flattery. The +most vicious kings are lauded, if only they have been ‘erga +servos Dei benevoli;’ if they have founded monasteries; if +they have respected the rights of the Church. The clergy +too often looked on the secular princes as more or less wild +beasts, of whom neither common decency, justice, or mercy was to +be expected; and they had too often reason enough to do so. +All that could be expected of the kings was, that if they would +not regard man, they should at least fear God; which if they did, +the proof of ‘divine grace’ on their part was so +unexpected, as well as important, that the monk chroniclers +praised them heartily and honestly, judging them by what they +had, not by what they had not.</p> +<p>Thus alone can one explain such a case as that of the monastic +opinion of Dagobert the Second, king of the Franks. We are +told in the same narrative, seemingly without any great sense of +incongruity, how he murdered his own relations and guests, and +who not?—how he massacred 9000 Bulgars to whom he had given +hospitality; how he kept a harem of three queens, and other women +so numerous that Fredegarius cannot mention them; and also how, +accompanied by his harem, he chanted among the monks of St. +Denis; how he founded many rich convents; how he was the friend, +or rather pupil, of St. Arnulf of Metz, St. Omer, and above all +of St. Eloi—whose story I recommend you to read, charmingly +told, in Mr. Maitland’s ‘Dark Ages,’ pp. +81-122. The three saints were no hypocrites—God +forbid! They were good men and true, to whom had been +entrusted the keeping of a wild beast, to be petted and praised +whenever it shewed any signs of humanity or obedience.</p> +<p>But woe to the prince, however useful or virtuous in other +respects, who laid sacrilegious hands on the goods of the +Church. He might, like Charles Martel, have delivered +France from the Pagans on the east, and from the Mussulmen on the +south, and have saved Christendom once and for all from the +dominion of the Crescent, in that great battle on the plains of +Poitiers, where the Arab cavalry (says Isidore of Beja) broke +against the immoveable line of Franks, like ‘waves against +a wall of ice.’</p> +<p>But if, like Charles Martel, he had dared to demand of the +Church taxes and contributions toward the support of his troops, +and the salvation both of Church and commonweal, then all his +prowess was in vain. Some monk would surely see him in a +vision, as St. Eucherius, Bishop of Orleans, saw Charles Martel +(according to the Council of Kiersy), ‘with Cain, Judas, +and Caiaphas, thrust into the Stygian whirlpools and Acherontic +combustion of the sempiternal Tartarus.’</p> +<p>Those words, which, with slight variations, are a common +formula of cursing appended to monastic charters against all who +should infringe them, remind us rather of the sixth book of +Virgil’s Æneid than of the Holy Scriptures; and +explain why Dante naturally chooses that poet as a guide through +his Inferno.</p> +<p>The cosmogony from which such an idea was derived was simple +enough. I give, of course, no theological opinion on its +correctness: but as professor of Modern History, I am bound to +set before you opinions which had the most enormous influence on +the history of early Europe. Unless you keep them in mind, +as the fixed and absolute background of all human thought and +action for more than 1000 years, you will never be able to +understand the doings of European men.</p> +<p>This earth, then, or at least the habitable part of it, was +considered as most probably a flat plane. Below that plane, +or in the centre of the earth, was the realm of endless +fire. It could be entered (as by the Welsh knight who went +down into St. Patrick’s Purgatory) by certain caves. +By listening at the craters of volcanoes, which were its mouths, +the cries of the tortured might be heard in the depths of the +earth.</p> +<p>In that ‘Tartarus’ every human being born into the +world was doomed to be endlessly burnt alive: only in the Church, +‘extra quam nulla salus,’ was there escape from the +common doom. But to that doom, excommunication, which +thrust a man from the pale of the Church, condemned the sinner +afresh, with curses the most explicit and most horrible.</p> +<p>The superior clergy, therefore, with whom the anathematizing +power lay, believed firmly that they could, proprio motu, upon +due cause shewn, cause any man or woman to be burned alive +through endless ages. And what was more, the Teutonic +laity, with that intense awe of the unseen which they had brought +with them out of the wilderness, believed it likewise, and +trembled. It paralysed the wisest, as well as the fiercest, +that belief. Instead of disgusting the kings of the earth, +it gave them over, bound hand and foot by their own guilty +consciences, into the dominion of the clergy; and the belief that +Charles Martel was damned, only knit (as M. Sismondi well +remarks) his descendants the Carlovingians more closely to the +Church which possest so terrible a weapon.</p> +<p>Whether they were right or wrong in these beliefs is a +question not to be discussed in this chair. My duty is only +to point out to you the universal existence of those beliefs, and +the historic fact that they gave the clergy a character +supernatural, magical, divine, with a reserve of power before +which all trembled, from the beggar to the king; and also, that +all struggles between the temporal and spiritual powers, like +that between Henry and Becket, can only be seen justly in the +light of the practical meaning of that excommunication which +Becket so freely employed. I must also point out to you +that so enormous a power (too great for the shoulders of mortal +man) was certain to be, and actually was, fearfully abused, not +only by its direct exercise, but also by bargaining with men, +through indulgences and otherwise, for the remission of that +punishment, which the clergy could, if they would, inflict; and +worst of all, that out of the whole theory sprang up that system +of persecution, in which the worst cruelties of heathen Rome were +imitated by Christian priests, on the seemingly irrefragable +ground that it was merciful to offenders to save them, or, if +not, at least to save others through them, by making them feel +for a few hours in this world what they would feel for endless +ages in the next.</p> +<h2>LECTURE IX—THE MONK A CIVILIZER</h2> +<p>Historians are often blamed for writing as if the History of +Kings and Princes were the whole history of the world. +‘Why do you tell us,’ is said, ‘of nothing but +the marriages, successions, wars, characters, of a few Royal +Races? We want to know what the people, and not the +princes, were like. History ought to be the history of the +masses, and not of kings.’</p> +<p>The only answer to this complaint seems to be, that the defect +is unavoidable. The history of the masses cannot be +written, while they have no history; and none will they have, as +long as they remain a mass; ere their history begins, +individuals, few at first, and more and more numerous as they +progress, must rise out of the mass, and become persons, with +fixed ideas, determination, conscience, more or less different +from their fellows, and thereby leavening and elevating their +fellows, that they too may become persons, and men indeed. +Then they will begin to have a common history, issuing out of +each man’s struggle to assert his own personality and his +own convictions. Till that point is reached, the history of +the masses will be mere statistic concerning their physical +well-being or ill-being, which (for the early ages of our race) +is unwritten, and therefore undiscoverable.</p> +<p>The early history of the Teutonic race, therefore, is, and +must always remain, simply the history of a few great +figures. Of the many of the masses, nothing is said; +because there was nothing to say. They all ate, drank, +married, tilled, fought, and died, not altogether brutally, we +will hope, but still in a dull monotony, unbroken by any struggle +of principles or ideas. We know that large masses of human +beings have so lived in every age, and are living so +now—the Tartar hordes, for instance, or the thriving +negroes of central Africa: comfortable folk, getting a tolerable +living, son after father, for many generations, but certainly not +developed enough, or afflicted enough, to have any history.</p> +<p>I believe that the masses, during the early middle age, were +very well off; quite as well off as they deserved; that is, +earned for themselves. They lived in a rough way, +certainly: but roughness is not discomfort, where the taste has +not been educated. A Red Indian sleeps as well in a wigwam +as we in a spring bed; and the Irish babies thrive as well among +the peat ashes as on a Brussels carpet. Man is a very well +constructed being, and can live and multiply anywhere, provided +he can keep warm, and get pure water and enough to eat. +Indeed, our Teutonic fathers must have been comfortably off, or +they could not have multiplied as they did. Even though +their numbers may have been overstated, the fact is patent, that +howsoever they were slaughtered down, by the Romans or by each +other, they rose again as out of the soil, more numerous than +ever. Again and again you read of a tribe being all but +exterminated by the Romans, and in a few years find it bursting +over the Pfalzgrab or the Danube, more numerous and terrible than +before. Never believe that a people deprest by cold, +ill-feeding, and ill-training, could have conquered Europe in the +face of centuries of destructive war. Those very wars, +again, may have helped in the long run the increase of +population, and for a reason simple enough, though often +overlooked. War throws land out of cultivation; and when +peace returns, the new settlers find the land fallow, and more or +less restored to its original fertility; and so begins a period +of rapid and prosperous increase. In no other way can I +explain the rate at which nations after the most desolating wars +spring up, young and strong again, like the phoenix, from their +own funeral pile. They begin afresh as the tillers of a +virgin soil, fattened too often with the ashes of burnt +homesteads, and the blood of the slain.</p> +<p>Another element of comfort may have been the fact, that in the +rough education of the forest, only the strong and healthy +children lived, while the weakly died off young, and so the +labour-market, as we should say now, was never overstocked. +This is the case with our own gipsies, and with many savage +tribes—the Red Indians, for instance—and accounts for +their general healthiness: the unhealthy being all dead, in the +first struggle for existence. But then these gipsies, and +the Red Indians, do not increase in numbers, but the contrary; +while our forefathers increased rapidly. On the other hand, +we have, at least throughout the middle ages, accounts of such +swarms of cripples, lepers, deformed, and other incapable +persons, as to make some men believe that there were more of +them, in proportion to the population, than there are now. +And it may have been so. The strongest and healthiest men +always going off to be killed in war, the weakliest only would be +left at home to breed; and so an unhealthy population might +spring up. And again—and this is a curious +fact—as law and order enter a country, so will the +proportion of incapables, in body and mind, increase. In +times of war and anarchy, when every one is shifting for himself, +only the strongest and shrewdest can stand. Woe to those +who cannot take care of themselves. The fools and cowards, +the weakly and sickly, are killed, starved, neglected, or in +other ways brought to grief. But when law and order come, +they protect those who cannot protect themselves, and the fools +and cowards, the weakly and sickly, are supported at the public +expense, and allowed to increase and multiply as public +burdens. I do not say that this is wrong, Heaven +forbid! I only state the fact. A government is quite +right in defending all alike from the brute competition of +nature, whose motto is—Woe to the weak. To the Church +of the middle age is due the preaching and the practice of the +great Christian doctrine, that society is bound to protect the +weak. So far the middle age saw: but no further. For +our own times has been reserved the higher and deeper doctrine, +that it is the duty of society to make the weak strong; to +reform, to cure, and above all, to prevent by education, by +sanitary science, by all and every means, the necessity of +reforming and of curing.</p> +<p>Science could not do that in the middle age. But if +Science could not do it, Religion would at least try to do the +next best thing to it. The monasteries were the refuges, +whither the weak escaped from the competition of the +strong. Thither flocked the poor, the crippled, the orphan, +and the widow, all, in fact, who could not fight for +themselves. There they found something like justice, order, +pity, help. Even the fool and the coward, when they went to +the convent-door, were not turned away. The poor +half-witted rascal, who had not sense enough to serve the king, +might still serve the abbot. He would be set to drive, +plough, or hew wood—possibly by the side of a gentleman, a +nobleman, or even a prince—and live under equal law with +them; and under, too, a discipline more strict than that of any +modern army; and if he would not hew the wood, or drive the +bullocks, as he ought, then the abbot would have him flogged +soundly till he did; which was better for him, after all, than +wandering about to be hooted by the boys, and dying in a ditch at +last.</p> +<p>The coward, too—the abbot could make him of use, even +though the king could not. There were, no doubt, in those +days, though fewer in number than now, men who could not face +physical danger, and the storm of the evil world,—delicate, +nervous, imaginative, feminine characters; who, when sent out to +battle, would be very likely to run away. Our forefathers, +having no use for such persons, used to put such into a bog-hole, +and lay a hurdle over them, in the belief that they would sink to +the lowest pool of Hela for ever more. But the abbot had +great use for such. They could learn to read, write, sing, +think; they were often very clever; they might make great +scholars; at all events they might make saints. Whatever +they could not do, they could pray. And the united prayer +of those monks, it was then believed, could take heaven by storm, +alter the course of the elements, overcome Divine justice, avert +from mankind the anger of an offended God. Whether that +belief were right or wrong, people held it; and the man who could +not fight with carnal weapons, regained his self-respect, and +therefore his virtue, when he found himself fighting, as he held, +with spiritual weapons against all the powers of darkness <a +name="citation214"></a><a href="#footnote214" +class="citation">[214]</a>. The first light in which I wish +you to look at the old monasteries, is as defences for the weak +against the strong.</p> +<p>But what has this to do with what I said at first, as to the +masses having no history? This:—that through these +monasteries the masses began first to have a history; because +through them they ceased to be masses, and became first, persons +and men, and then, gradually, a people. That last the +monasteries could not make them: but they educated them for +becoming a people; and in this way. They brought out, in +each man, the sense of individual responsibility. They +taught him, whether warrior or cripple, prince or beggar, that he +had an immortal soul, for which each must give like account to +God.</p> +<p>Do you not see the effect of that new thought? Treated +as slaves, as things and animals, the many had learnt to consider +themselves as things and animals. And so they had become +‘a mass,’ that is, a mere heap of inorganic units, +each of which has no spring of life in itself as distinguished +from a whole, a people, which has one bond, uniting each to +all. The ‘masses’ of the French had fallen into +that state, before the Revolution of 1793. The +‘masses’ of our agricultural labourers,—the +‘masses’ of our manufacturing workmen, were fast +falling into that state in the days of our grandfathers. +Whether the French masses have risen out of it, remains to be +seen. The English masses, thanks to Almighty God, have +risen out of it; and by the very same factor by which the +middle-age masses rose—by Religion. The great +Methodist movement of the last century did for our masses, what +the monks did for our forefathers in the middle age. Wesley +and Whitfield, and many another noble soul, said to Nailsea +colliers, Cornish miners, and all manner of drunken brutalized +fellows, living like the beasts that perish,—‘Each of +you—thou—and thou—and thou—stand apart +and alone before God. Each has an immortal soul in him, +which will be happy or miserable for ever, according to the deeds +done in the body. A whole eternity of shame or of glory +lies in you—and you are living like a beast.’ +And in proportion as each man heard that word, and took it home +to himself, he became a new man, and a true man. The +preachers may have mixed up words with their message with which +we may disagree, have appealed to low hopes and fears which we +should be ashamed to bring into our calculations;—so did +the monks: but they got their work done somehow; and let us thank +them, and the old Methodists, and any man who will tell men, in +whatever clumsy and rough fashion, that they are not things, and +pieces of a mass, but persons, with an everlasting duty, an +everlasting right and wrong, an everlasting God in whose presence +they stand, and who will judge them according to their +works. True, that is not all that men need to learn. +After they are taught, each apart, that he is a man, they must be +taught, how to be an united people: but the individual teaching +must come first; and before we hastily blame the individualizing +tendencies of the old Evangelical movement, or that of the +middle-age monks, let us remember, that if they had not laid the +foundation, others could not build thereon.</p> +<p>Besides, they built themselves, as well as they could, on +their own foundation. As soon as men begin to be really +men, the desire of corporate life springs up in them. They +must unite; they must organize themselves. If they possess +duties, they must be duties to their fellow-men; if they possess +virtues and graces, they must mix with their fellow-men in order +to exercise them.</p> +<p>The solitaries of the Thebaid found that they became selfish +wild beasts, or went mad, if they remained alone; and they formed +themselves into lauras, ‘lanes’ of huts, convents, +under a common abbot or father. The evangelical converts of +the last century formed themselves into powerful and highly +organized sects. The middle-age monasteries organized +themselves into highly artificial communities round some sacred +spot, generally under the supposed protection of some saint or +martyr, whose bones lay there. Each method was good, though +not the highest. None of them rises to the idea of a +people, having one national life, under one monarch, the +representative to each and all of that national life, and the +dispenser and executor of its laws. Indeed, the artificial +organization, whether monastic or sectarian, may become so strong +as to interfere with national life, and make men forget their +real duty to their king and country, in their self-imposed duty +to the sect or order to which they belong. The monastic +organization indeed had to die, in many countries, in order that +national life might develop itself; and the dissolution of the +monasteries marks the birth of an united and powerful +England. They or Britain must have died. An imperium +in imperio—much more many separate imperia—was an +element of national weakness, which might be allowed in times of +peace and safety, but not in times of convulsion and of +danger.</p> +<p>You may ask, however, how these monasteries became so +powerful, if they were merely refuges for the weak? Even if +they were (and they were) the homes of an equal justice and +order, mercy and beneficence, which had few or no standing-places +outside their walls, still, how, if governed by weak men, could +they survive in the great battle of life? The sheep would +have but a poor life of it, if they set up hurdles against the +wolves, and agreed at all events not to eat each other.</p> +<p>The answer is, that the monasteries were not altogether +tenanted by incapables. The same causes which brought the +low-born into the monasteries, brought the high-born, many of the +very highest. The same cause which brought the weak into +the monasteries, brought the strong, many of the very +strongest.</p> +<p>The middle-age records give us a long list of kings, princes, +nobles, who having done (as they held) their work in the world +outside, went into those convents to try their hands at what +seemed to them (and often was) better work than the perpetual +coil of war, intrigue, and ambition, which was not the crime, but +the necessary fate, of a ruler in the middle ages. Tired of +work, and tired of life; tired too, of vain luxury and vain +wealth, they fled to the convent, as to the only place where a +man could get a little peace, and think of God, and his own soul; +and recollected, as they worked with their own hands by the side +of the lowest-born of their subjects, that they had a human flesh +and blood, a human immortal soul, like those whom they had +ruled. Thank God that the great have other methods now of +learning that great truth; that the work of life, if but well +done, will teach it to them: but those were hard times, and wild +times; and fighting men could hardly learn, save in the convent, +that there was a God above who watched the widows’ and the +orphans’ tears, and when he made inquisition for blood, +forgot not the cause of the poor.</p> +<p>Such men and women of rank brought into the convent, +meanwhile, all the prestige of their rank, all their superior +knowledge of the world; and became the patrons and protectors of +the society; while they submitted, generally with peculiar +humility and devotion, to its most severe and degrading +rules. Their higher sensibilities, instead of making them +shrink from hardship, made them strong to endure self-sacrifices, +and often self-tortures, which seem to us all but incredible; and +the lives, or rather living deaths, of the noble and princely +penitents of the early middle age, are among the most beautiful +tragedies of humanity.</p> +<p>To these monasteries, too, came the men of the very highest +intellect, of whatsoever class. I say, of the very highest +intellect. Tolerably talented men might find it worth while +to stay in the world, and use their wits in struggling upward +there. The most talented of all would be the very men to +see a better ‘carrière ouverte aux talens’ +than the world could give; to long for deeper and loftier +meditation than could be found in the court; for a more divine +life, a more blessed death, than could be found in the camp and +the battle-field.</p> +<p>And so it befals, that in the early middle age the cleverest +men were generally inside the convent, trying, by moral influence +and superior intellect, to keep those outside from tearing each +other to pieces.</p> +<p>But these intellects could not remain locked up in the +monasteries. The daily routine of devotion, even of silent +study and contemplation, was not sufficient for them, as it was +for the average monk. There was still a reserve of force in +them, which must be up and doing; and which, in a man inspired by +that Spirit which is the Spirit of love to man as well as to God, +must needs expand outwards in all directions, to Christianize, to +civilize, to colonize.</p> +<p>To colonize. When people talk loosely of founding an +abbey for superstitious uses, they cannot surely be aware of the +state of the countries in which those abbeys were founded; either +primæval forest, hardly-tilled common, or to be described +by that terrible epithet of Domesday-book, +‘wasta’—wasted by war. A knowledge of +that fact would lead them to guess that there were almost +certainly uses for the abbey which had nothing to do with +superstition; which were as thoroughly practical as those of a +company for draining the bog of Allen, or running a railroad +through an American forest. Such, at least, was the case, +at least for the first seven centuries after the fall of Rome; +and to these missionary colonizers Europe owes, I verily believe, +among a hundred benefits, this which all Englishmen will +appreciate; that Roman agriculture not only revived in the +countries which were once the Empire, but spread from thence +eastward and northward, into the principal wilderness of the +Teuton and Sclavonic races.</p> +<p>I cannot, I think, shew you better what manner of men these +monk-colonizers were, and what sort of work they did, than by +giving you the biography of one of them; and out of many I have +chosen that of St. Sturmi, founder whilome of the great abbey of +Fulda, which lies on the central watershed of Germany, about +equidistant, to speak roughly, from Frankfort, Cassel, Gotha, and +Coburg.</p> +<p>His life is matter of history, written by one Eigils (sainted +like himself), who was his disciple and his friend. +Naturally told it is, and lovingly; but if I recollect right, +without a single miracle or myth; the living contemporaneous +picture of such a man, living in such a state of society, as we +shall never (and happily need never) see again, but which is for +that very reason worthy to be preserved, for a token that wisdom +is justified of all her children.</p> +<p>It stands at length in Pertz’s admirable +‘Monumenta Historica,’ among many another like +biography, and if I tell it here somewhat at length, readers must +forgive me.</p> +<p>Every one has heard of little king Pepin, and many may have +heard also how he was a mighty man of valour, and cut off a +lion’s head at one blow; and how he was a crafty statesman, +and first consolidated the temporal power of the Popes, and +helped them in that detestable crime of overthrowing the noble +Lombard kingdom, which cost Italy centuries of slavery and shame, +and which has to be expiated even yet, it would seem, by some +fearful punishment.</p> +<p>But every one may not know that Pepin had great +excuses—if not for helping to destroy the +Lombards—yet still for supporting the power of the +Popes. It seemed to him—and perhaps it was—the +only practical method of uniting the German tribes into one +common people, and stopping the internecine wars by which they +were tearing themselves to pieces. It seemed to +him—and perhaps it was—the only practical method for +civilizing and Christianizing the still wild tribes, Frisians, +Saxons, and Sclaves, who pressed upon the German marches, from +the mouth of the Elbe to the very Alps. Be that as it may, +he began the work; and his son Charlemagne finished it; somewhat +well, and again somewhat ill—as most work, alas! is done on +earth. Now in the days of little king Pepin there was a +nobleman of Bavaria, and his wife, who had a son called Sturmi; +and they brought him to St. Boniface, that he might make him a +priest. And the child loved St. Boniface’s noble +English face, and went with him willingly, and was to him as a +son. And who was St. Boniface? That is a long +story. Suffice it that he was a man of Devon, brought up in +a cloister at Exeter; and that he had crossed over into +Frankenland, upon the lower Rhine, and become a missionary of the +widest and loftiest aims; not merely a preacher and winner of +souls, though that, it is said, in perfection; but a civilizer, a +colonizer, a statesman. He, and many another noble +Englishman and Scot (whether Irish or Caledonian) were working +under the Frank kings to convert the heathens of the marches, and +carry the Cross into the far East. They led lives of +poverty and danger; they were martyred, half of them, as St. +Boniface was at last. But they did their work; and +doubtless they have their reward. They did their best, +according to their light. God grant that we, to whom so +much more light has been given, may do our best likewise. +Under this great genius was young Sturmi trained. Trained +(as was perhaps needed for those who had to do such work in such +a time) to have neither wife, nor child, nor home, nor penny in +his purse; but to do all that he was bid, learn all that he +could, and work for his living with his own hands; a life of +bitter self-sacrifice. Such a life is not needed now. +Possibly, nevertheless, it was needed then.</p> +<p>So St. Boniface took Sturmi about with him in his travels, and +at last handed him over to Wigbert, the priest, to prepare him +for the ministry. ‘Under whom,’ says his old +chronicler, ‘the boy began to know the Psalms thoroughly by +heart; to understand the Holy Scriptures of Christ with spiritual +sense; took care to learn most studiously the mysteries of the +four Gospels, and to bury in his heart, by assiduous reading, the +treasures of the Old and New Testament. For his meditation +was in the Law of the Lord day and night; profound in +understanding, shrewd of thought, prudent of speech, fair of +face, sober of carriage, honourable in morals, spotless in life, +by sweetness, humility, and alacrity, he drew to him the love of +all.’</p> +<p>He grew to be a man; and in due time he was ordained priest, +‘by the will and consent of all;’ and he ‘began +to preach the words of Christ earnestly to the people;’ and +his preaching wrought wonders among them.</p> +<p>Three years he preached in his Rhineland parish, winning love +from all. But in the third year ‘a heavenly +thought’ came into his mind that he would turn hermit and +dwell in the wild forest. And why? Who can +tell? He may, likely enough, have found celibacy a fearful +temptation for a young and eloquent man, and longed to flee from +the sight of that which must not be his. And that, in his +circumstances, was not a foolish wish. He may have wished +to escape, if but once, from the noise and crowd of outward +things, and be alone with God and Christ, and his own soul. +And that was not a foolish wish. John Bunyan so longed, and +found what he wanted in Bedford Jail, and set it down and printed +it in a Pilgrim’s Progress, which will live as long as man +is man. George Fox longed for it, and made himself clothes +of leather which would not wear out, and lived in a hollow tree, +till he, too, set down the fruit of his solitude in a diary which +will live likewise as long as man is man. Perhaps, again, +young Sturmi longed to try for once in a way what he was worth +upon God’s earth; how much he could endure; what power he +had of helping himself, what courage to live by his own wits, and +God’s mercy, on roots and fruits, as wild things +live. And surely that was not altogether a foolish +wish. At least, he longed to be a hermit; but he kept his +longing to himself, however, till St. Boniface, his bishop, +appeared; and then he told him all his heart.</p> +<p>And St. Boniface said: ‘Go; in the name of God;’ +and gave him two comrades, and sent him into ‘the +wilderness which is called Buchonia, the Beech Forest, to find a +place fit for the servants of the Lord to dwell in. For the +Lord is able to provide his people a home in the +desert.’</p> +<p>So those three went into the wild forest. And ‘for +three days they saw nought but earth and sky and mighty +trees. And they went on, praying Christ that He would guide +their feet into the way of peace. And on the third day they +came to the place which is called Hersfelt (the hart’s +down?), and searched it round, and prayed that Christ would bless +the place for them to dwell in; and then they built themselves +little huts of beech-bark, and abode there many days, serving God +with holy fastings, and watchings, and prayers.’</p> +<p>Is it not a strange story? so utterly unlike anything which we +see now;—so utterly unlike anything which we ought to see +now? And yet it may have been good in its time. It +looks out on us from the dim ages, like the fossil bone of some +old monster cropping out of a quarry. But the old monster +was good in his place and time. God made him and had need +of him. It may be that God made those three poor monks, and +had need of them likewise.</p> +<p>As for their purposes being superstitious, we shall be better +able to judge of that when we have seen what they were—what +sort of a house they meant to build to God. As for their +having self-interest in view, no doubt they thought that they +should benefit their own souls in this life, and in the life to +come. But one would hardly blame them for that, surely?</p> +<p>One would not blame them as selfish and sordid if they had +gone out on a commercial speculation? Why, then, if on a +religious one? The merchant adventurer is often a noble +type of man, and one to whom the world owes much, though his +hands are not always clean, nor his eye single. The monk +adventurer of the middle age is, perhaps, a still nobler type of +man, and one to whom the world owes more, though his eye, too, +was not always single, nor his hands clean.</p> +<p>As for selfishness, one must really bear in mind that men who +walked away into that doleful ‘urwarld’ had need to +pray very literally ‘that Christ would guide their feet +into the way of peace;’ and must have cared as much for +their wordly interests as those who march up to the +cannon’s mouth. Their lives in that forest were not +worth twenty-four hours’ purchase, and they knew it. +It is an ugly thing for an unarmed man, without a compass, to +traverse the bush of Australia or New Zealand, where there are no +wild beasts. But it was uglier still to start out under the +dark roof of that primæval wood. Knights, when they +rode it, went armed cap-à-pie, like Sintram through the +dark valley, trusting in God and their good sword. Chapmen +and merchants stole through it by a few tracks in great +companies, armed with bill and bow. Peasants ventured into +it a few miles, to cut timber, and find pannage for their swine, +and whispered wild legends of the ugly things therein—and +sometimes, too, never came home. Away it stretched from the +fair Rhineland, wave after wave of oak and alder, beech and pine, +God alone knew how far, into the land of night and wonder, and +the infinite unknown; full of elk and bison, bear and wolf, lynx +and glutton, and perhaps of worse beasts still. Worse +beasts, certainly, Sturmi and his comrades would have met, if +they had met them in human form. For there were waifs and +strays of barbarism there, uglier far than any waif and stray of +civilization, border ruffian of the far west, buccaneer of the +Tropic keys, Cimaroon of the Panama forests; men verbiesterte, +turned into the likeness of beasts, wildfanger, hüner, +ogres, wehr-wolves, strong thieves and outlaws, many of them +possibly mere brutal maniacs; naked, living in caves and coverts, +knowing no law but their own hunger, rage, and lust; feeding +often on human flesh; and woe to the woman or child or unarmed +man who fell into their ruthless clutch. Orson, and such +like human brutes of the wilderness, serve now to amuse children +in fairy tales; they were then ugly facts of flesh and +blood. There were heathens there, too, in small colonies: +heathen Saxons, cruelest of all the tribes; who worshipped at the +Irmensul, and had an old blood-feud against the Franks; heathen +Thuringer, who had murdered St. Kilian the Irishman at Wurzburg; +heathen Slaves, of different tribes, who had introduced into +Europe the custom of impaling their captives: and woe to the +Christian priest who fell into any of their hands. To be +knocked on the head before some ugly idol was the gentlest death +which they were like to have. They would have called that +martyrdom, and the gate of eternal bliss; but they were none the +less brave men for going out to face it.</p> +<p>And beside all these, and worse than all these, there were the +terrors of the unseen world; very real in those poor monks’ +eyes, though not in ours. There were Nixes in the streams, +and Kobolds in the caves, and Tannhäuser in the dark +pine-glades, who hated the Christian man, and would lure him to +his death. There were fair swan-maidens and elf-maidens; +nay, dame Venus herself, and Herodias the dancer, with all their +rout of revellers; who would tempt him to sin, and having made +him sell his soul, destroy both body and soul in hell. +There was Satan and all the devils, too, plotting to stop the +Christian man from building the house of the Lord, and preaching +the gospel to the heathen; ready to call up storms, and floods, +and forest fires; to hurl the crag down from the cliffs, or drop +the rotting tree on their defenceless heads—all real and +terrible in those poor monks’ eyes, as they walked on, +singing their psalms, and reading their Gospels, and praying to +God to save them, for they could not save themselves; and to +guide them, for they knew not, like Abraham, whither they went; +and to show them the place where they should build the house of +the Lord, and preach righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy +Spirit to the heathen round. We talk still, thank heaven, +of heroes, and understand what that great word should mean. +But were not these poor monks heroes? Knights-errant of +God, doing his work as they best knew how. We have a purer +gospel than they: we understand our Bibles better. But if +they had not done what they did, where would have been now our +gospel, and our Bible? We cannot tell. It was a wise +old saw of our forefathers—‘Do not speak ill of the +bridge which carries you over.’</p> +<p>If Sturmi had had a ‘holy longing’ to get into the +wild wood, now he had a ‘holy longing’ to go back; +and to find St. Boniface, and tell him what a pleasant place +Hersfelt was, and the quality of the soil, and the direction of +the watershed, and the meadows, and springs, and so forth, in a +very practical way. And St. Boniface answered, that the +place seemed good enough; but that he was afraid for them, on +account of the savage heathen Saxons. They must go deeper +into the forest, and then they would be safe. So he went +back to his fellow-hermits, and they made to themselves a canoe; +and went paddling up and down the Fulda stream, beneath the alder +boughs, ‘trying the mouths of the mountain-streams, and +landing to survey the hills and ridges,’—pioneers of +civilization none the less because they pioneered in the name of +Him who made earth and heaven: but they found nothing which they +thought would suit the blessed St. Boniface, save that they +stayed a little at the place which is called Ruohen-bah, +‘the rough brook,’ to see if it would suit; but it +would not. So they went back to their birch huts to fast +and pray once more.</p> +<p>St. Boniface sent for Sturmi after awhile, probably to Maintz, +to ask of his success; and Sturmi threw himself on his face +before him; and Boniface raised him up, and kissed him, and made +him sit by his side—which was a mighty honour; for St. +Boniface, the penniless monk, was at that moment one of the most +powerful men of Europe; and he gave Sturmi a good dinner, of +which, no doubt, he stood in need; and bade him keep up heart, +and seek again for the place which God had surely prepared, and +would reveal in His good time.</p> +<p>And this time Sturmi, probably wiser from experience, +determined to go alone; but not on foot. So he took to him +a trusty ass, and as much food as he could pack on it; and, axe +in hand, rode away into the wild wood, singing his psalms. +And every night, before he lay down to sleep, he cut boughs, and +stuck them up for a ring fence round him and the ass, to the +discomfiture of the wolves, which had, and have still, a great +hankering after asses’ flesh. It is a quaint picture, +no doubt; but let us respect it, while we smile at it; if we, +too, be brave men.</p> +<p>Then one day he fell into a great peril. He came to the +old road (a Roman one, I presume; for the Teutons, whether in +England or elsewhere, never dreamed of making roads till three +hundred years ago, but used the old Roman ones), which led out of +the Thuringen land to Maintz. And at the ford over the +Fulda he met a great multitude bathing, of Sclavonian heathens, +going to the fair at Maintz. And they smelt so strong, the +foul miscreants, that Sturmi’s donkey backed, and refused +to face them; and Sturmi himself was much of the donkey’s +mind, for they began to mock him (possibly he nearly went over +the donkey’s head), and went about to hurt him.</p> +<p>‘But,’ says the chronicler, ‘the power of +the Lord held them back.’</p> +<p>Then he went on, right thankful at having escaped with his +life, up and down, round and round, exploring and +surveying—for what purpose we shall see hereafter. +And at last he lost himself in the place which is called +Aihen-loh, ‘the glade of oaks;’ and at night-fall he +heard the plash of water, and knew not whether man or wild beast +made it. And not daring to call out, he tapped a tree-trunk +with his axe (some backwoodsman’s sign of those days, we +may presume), and he was answered. And a forester came to +him, leading his lord’s horse; a man from the Wetterau, who +knew the woods far and wide, and told him all that he wanted to +know. And they slept side by side that night; and in the +morning they blest each other, and each went his way.</p> +<p>Yes, there were not merely kings and wars, popes and councils, +in those old days;—there were real human beings, just such +as we might meet by the wayside any hour, with human hearts and +histories within them. And we will be thankful if but one +of them, now and then, starts up out of the darkness of twelve +hundred years, like that good forester, and looks at us with +human eyes, and goes his way again, blessing, and not +unblest.</p> +<p>And now Sturmi knew all that he needed to know; and after +awhile, following the counsel of the forester, he came to +‘the blessed place, long ago prepared of the Lord. +And when he saw it, he was filled with immense joy, and went on +exulting; for he felt that by the merits and prayers of the holy +Bishop Boniface that place had been revealed to him. And he +went about it, and about it, half the day; and the more he looked +on it the more he gave God thanks;’ and those who know +Fulda say, that Sturmi had reason to give God thanks, and must +have had a keen eye, moreover, for that which man needs for +wealth and prosperity, in soil and water, meadow and wood. +So he blessed the place, and signed it with the sign of the Cross +(in token that it belonged thenceforth neither to devils nor +fairies, but to his rightful Lord and Maker), and went back to +his cell, and thence a weary journey to St. Boniface, to tell him +of the fair place which he had found at last.</p> +<p>And St. Boniface went his weary way, either to Paris or to +Aix, to Pepin and Carloman, kings of the Franks; and begged of +them a grant of the Aihen-loh, and all the land for four miles +round, and had it. And the nobles about gave up to him +their rights of venison, and vert, and pasture, and pannage of +swine; and Sturmi and seven brethren set out thither, ‘in +the year of our Lord 744, in the first month (April, presumably), +in the twelfth day of the month, unto the place prepared of the +Lord,’ that they might do what?</p> +<p>That they might build an abbey. Yes; but the question +is, what building an abbey meant, not three hundred, nor five +hundred, but eleven hundred years ago—for centuries are +long matters, and men and their works change in them.</p> +<p>And then it meant this: Clearing the back woods for a +Christian settlement; an industrial colony, in which every man +was expected to spend his life in doing good—all and every +good which he could for his fellow-men. Whatever talent he +had he threw into the common stock; and worked, as he was found +fit to work, at farming, gardening, carpentering, writing, +doctoring, teaching in the schools, or preaching to the heathen +round. In their common church they met to worship God; but +also to ask for grace and strength to do their work, as +Christianizers and civilizers of mankind. What Christianity +and civilization they knew (and they knew more than we are apt +now to believe) they taught it freely; and therefore they were +loved, and looked up to as superior beings, as modern +missionaries, wherever they do their work even decently well, are +looked up to now.</p> +<p>So because the work could be done in that way, and (as far as +men then, or now, can see) in no other way, Pepin and Carloman +gave Boniface the glade of oaks, that they might clear the virgin +forest, and extend cultivation, and win fresh souls to Christ, +instead of fighting, like the kings of this world, for the land +which was already cleared, and the people who were already +Christian.</p> +<p>In two months’ time they had cut down much of the +forest; and then came St. Boniface himself to see them, and with +him a great company of workmen, and chose a place for a +church. And St. Boniface went up to the hill which is yet +called Bishop’s Mount, that he might read his Bible in +peace, away from kings and courts, and the noise of the wicked +world; and his workmen felled trees innumerable, and dug peat to +burn lime withal; and then all went back again, and left the +settlers to thrive and work.</p> +<p>And thrive and work they did, clearing more land, building +their church, ploughing up their farm, drawing to them more and +more heathen converts, more and more heathen school-children; and +St. Boniface came to see them from time to time, whenever he +could get a holiday, and spent happy days in prayer and study, +with his pupil and friend. And ten years after, when St. +Boniface was martyred at last by the Friesland heathens, and +died, as he had lived, like an apostle of God, then all the folk +of Maintz wanted to bring his corpse home to their town, because +he had been Archbishop there. But he ‘appeared in a +dream to a certain deacon, and said: “Why delay ye to take +me home to Fulda, to my rest in the wilderness which God bath +prepared for me?”’</p> +<p>So St. Boniface sleeps at Fulda,—unless the French +Republican armies dug up his bones, and scattered them, as they +scattered holier things, to the winds of heaven. And all +men came to worship at his tomb, after the fashion of those +days. And Fulda became a noble abbey, with its dom-church, +library, schools, workshops, farmsteads, almshouses, and all the +appanages of such a place, in the days when monks were monks +indeed. And Sturmi became a great man, and went through +many troubles and slanders, and conquered in them all, because +there was no fault found in him, as in Daniel of old; and died in +a good old age, bewept by thousands, who, but for him, would have +been heathens still. And the Aihen-loh became rich +corn-land and garden, and Fulda an abbey borough and a +principality, where men lived in peace under mild rule, while the +feudal princes quarrelled and fought outside; and a great +literary centre, whose old records are now precious to the +diggers among the bones of bygone times; and at last St. Sturmi +and the Aihen-lob had so developed themselves, that the latest +record of the Abbots of Fulda which I have seen is this, bearing +date about 1710:—</p> +<p>‘The arms of the most illustrious Lord and Prince, Abbot +of Fulda, Archchancellor of the most Serene Empress, Primate of +all Germany and Gaul, and Prince of the Holy Roman +Empire.’ Developed, certainly: and not altogether in +the right direction. For instead of the small beer, which +they had promised St. Boniface to drink to the end of the world, +the abbots of Fulda had the best wine in Germany, and the best +table too. Be that as it may, to have cleared the timber +off the Aihen-lob, and planted a Christian colony instead, was +enough to make St. Sturmi hope that he had not read his Bible +altogether in vain.</p> +<p>Surely such men as St. Sturmi were children of wisdom, put +what sense on the word you will. In a dark, confused, +lawless, cut-throat age, while everything was decided by the +sword, they found that they could do no good to themselves, or +any man, by throwing their swords into either scale. They +would be men of peace, and see what could be done so. Was +that not wise? So they set to work. They feared God +exceedingly, and walked with God. Was not that wise? +They wrought righteousness, and were merciful and kind, while +kings and nobles were murdering around them; pure and temperate, +while other men were lustful and drunken; just and equal in all +their ways, while other men were unjust and capricious; serving +God faithfully, according to their light, while the people round +them were half or wholly heathen; content to do their work well +on earth, and look for their reward in heaven, while the kings +and nobles, the holders of the land, were full of insane +ambition, every man trying to seize a scrap of ground from his +neighbour, as if that would make them happier. Was that not +wise? Which was the wiser, the chief killing human beings, +to take from them some few square miles which men had brought +into cultivation already, or the monk, leaving the cultivated +land, and going out into the backwoods to clear the forest, and +till the virgin soil? Which was the child of wisdom, I ask +again? And do not tell me that the old monk worked only for +fanatical and superstitious ends. It is not so. I +know well his fanaticism and his superstition, and the depths of +its ignorance and silliness: but he had more in him than +that. Had he not, he would have worked no lasting +work. He was not only the pioneer of civilization, but he +knew that he was such. He believed that all knowledge came +from God, even that which taught a man to clear the forest, and +plant corn instead; and he determined to spread such knowledge as +he had wherever he could. He was a wiser man than the +heathen Saxons, even than the Christian Franks, around him; a +better scholar, a better thinker, better handicraftsman, better +farmer; and he did not keep his knowledge to himself. He +did not, as some tell you, keep the Bible to himself. It is +not so; and those who say so, in this generation, ought to be +ashamed of themselves. The monk knew his Bible well +himself, and he taught it. Those who learnt from him to +read, learnt to read their Bibles. Those who did not learn +(of course the vast majority, in days when there was no +printing), he taught by sermons, by pictures, afterward by +mystery and miracle plays. The Bible was not forbidden to +the laity till centuries afterwards—and forbidden then, +why? Because the laity throughout Europe knew too much +about the Bible, and not too little. Because the early +monks had so ingrained the mind of the masses, throughout +Christendom, with Bible stories, Bible personages, the great +facts, and the great doctrines, of our Lord’s life, that +the masses knew too much; that they could contrast too easily, +and too freely, the fallen and profligate monks of the 15th and +16th centuries, with those Bible examples, which the old monks of +centuries before had taught their forefathers. Then the +clergy tried to keep from the laity, because it testified against +themselves, the very book which centuries before they had taught +them to love and know too well. In a word, the old monk +missionary taught all he knew to all who would learn, just as our +best modern missionaries do; and was loved, and obeyed, and +looked on as a superior being, as they are.</p> +<p>Of course he did not know how far civilization would +extend. He could not foretell railroads and electric +telegraphs, any more than he could political economy, or sanitary +science. But the best that he knew, he taught—and did +also, working with his own hands. He was faithful in a few +things, and God made him ruler over many things. For out of +those monasteries sprang—what did not spring? They +restored again and again sound law and just government, when the +good old Teutonic laws, and the Roman law also, was trampled +underfoot amid the lawless strife of ambition and fury. +Under their shadow sprang up the towns with their corporate +rights, their middle classes, their artizan classes. They +were the physicians, the alms-givers, the relieving officers, the +schoolmasters of the middle-age world. They first taught us +the great principle of the division of labour, to which we owe, +at this moment, that England is what she is, instead of being +covered with a horde of peasants, each making and producing +everything for himself, and starving each upon his rood of +ground. They transcribed or composed all the books of the +then world; many of them spent their lives in doing nothing but +writing; and the number of books, even of those to be found in +single monasteries, considering the tedious labour of copying, is +altogether astonishing. They preserved to us the treasures +of classical antiquity. They discovered for us the germs of +all our modern inventions. They brought in from abroad arts +and new knowledge; and while they taught men to know that they +had a common humanity, a common Father in heaven taught them also +to profit by each other’s wisdom instead of remaining in +isolated ignorance. They, too, were the great witnesses +against feudal caste. With them was neither high-born nor +low-born, rich nor poor: worth was their only test; the meanest +serf entering there might become the lord of knights and vassals, +the counsellor of kings and princes. Men may talk of +democracy—those old monasteries were the most democratic +institutions the world had ever till then seen. ‘A +man’s a man for a’ that,’ was not only talked +of in them, but carried out in practice—only not in +anarchy, and as a cloak for licentiousness: but under those +safeguards of strict discipline, and almost military order, +without which men may call themselves free, and yet be really +only slaves to their own passions. Yes, paradoxical as it +may seem, in those monasteries was preserved the sacred fire of +modern liberty, through those feudal centuries when all the +outside world was doing its best to trample it out. +Remember, as a single instance, that in the Abbot’s lodging +at Bury St. Edmunds, the Magna Charta was drawn out, before being +presented to John at Runymede. I know what they became +afterwards, better than most do here; too well to defile my lips, +or your ears, with tales too true. They had done their +work, and they went. Like all things born in time, they +died; and decayed in time; and the old order changed, giving +place to the new; and God fulfilled himself in many ways. +But in them, too, he fulfilled himself. They were the best +things the world had seen; the only method of Christianizing and +civilizing semi-barbarous Europe. Like all human plans and +conceptions, they contained in themselves original sin; idolatry, +celibacy, inhuman fanaticism; these were their three roots of +bitterness; and when they bore the natural fruit of immorality, +the monasteries fell with a great and just destruction. But +had not those monasteries been good at first, and noble at first; +had not the men in them been better and more useful men than the +men outside, do you think they would have endured for +centuries? They would not even have established themselves +at all. They would soon, in those stormy times, have been +swept off the face of the earth. Ill used they often were, +plundered and burnt down. But men found that they were +good. Their own plunderers found that they could not do +without them; and repented, and humbled themselves, and built +them up again, to be centres of justice and mercy and peace, amid +the wild weltering sea of war and misery. For all things +endure, even for a generation, only by virtue of the good which +is in them. By the Spirit of God in them they live, as do +all created things; and when he taketh away their breath they +die, and return again to their dust.</p> +<p>And what was the original sin of them? We can hardly say +that it was their superstitious and partially false creed: +because that they held in common with all Europe. It was +rather that they had identified themselves with, and tried to +realize on earth, one of the worst falsehoods of that +creed—celibacy. Not being founded on the true and +only ground of all society, family life, they were merely +artificial and self-willed arrangements of man’s invention, +which could not develop to any higher form. And when the +sanctity of marriage was revindicated at the Reformation, the +monasteries, having identified themselves with celibacy, +naturally fell. They could not partake in the Reformation +movement, and rise with it into some higher form of life, as the +laity outside did. I say, they were altogether artificial +things. The Abbot might be called the Abba, Father, of his +monks: but he was not their father—just as when young +ladies now play at being nuns, they call their superior, Mother: +but all the calling in the world will not make that sacred name a +fact and a reality, as they too often find out.</p> +<p>And celibacy brought serious evils from the first. It +induced an excited, hysterical tone of mind, which is most +remarkable in the best men; violent, querulous, suspicious, +irritable, credulous, visionary; at best more womanly than manly; +alternately in tears and in raptures. You never get in +their writings anything of that manly calmness, which we so +deservedly honour, and at which we all aim for ourselves. +They are bombastic; excited; perpetually mistaking virulence for +strength, putting us in mind for ever of the allocutions of the +Popes. Read the writings of one of the best of monks, and +of men, who ever lived, the great St. Bernard, and you will be +painfully struck by this hysterical element. The fact is, +that their rule of life, from the earliest to the +latest,—from that of St. Benedict of Casino, ‘father +of all monks,’ to that of Loyola the Jesuit, was pitched +not too low, but too high. It was an ideal which, for good +or for evil, could only be carried out by new converts, by people +in a state of high religious excitement, and therefore the +history of the monastic orders is just that of the protestant +sects. We hear of continual fallings off from their first +purity; of continual excitements, revivals, and startings of new +orders, which hoped to realize the perfection which the old +orders could not. You must bear this in mind, as you read +mediæval history. You will be puzzled to know why +continual new rules and new orders sprung up. They were so +many revivals, so many purist attempts at new sects. You +will see this very clearly in the three great revivals which +exercised such enormous influence on the history of the 13th, the +16th and the 17th centuries,—I mean the rise first of the +Franciscans and Dominicans, next of the Jesuits, and lastly of +the Port Royalists. They each professed to restore +monachism to what it had been at first; to realize the unnatural +and impossible ideal.</p> +<p>Another serious fault of these monasteries may be traced to +their artificial celibate system. I mean their +avarice. Only one generation after St. Sturmi, Charlemagne +had to make indignant laws against Abbots who tried to get into +their hands the property of everybody around them: but in +vain. The Abbots became more and more the great +landholders, till their power was intolerable. The reasons +are simple enough. An abbey had no children between whom to +divide its wealth, and therefore more land was always flowing in +and concentrating, and never breaking up again; while almost +every Abbot left his personalities, all his private savings and +purchases, to his successor.</p> +<p>Then again, in an unhappy hour, they discovered that the +easiest way of getting rich was by persuading sinners, and weak +persons, to secure the safety of their souls by leaving land to +the Church, in return for the prayers and masses of monks; and +that shameful mine of wealth was worked by them for centuries, in +spite of statutes of mortmain, and other checks which the civil +power laid on them, very often by most detestable means. +One is shocked to find good men lending themselves to such base +tricks: but we must recollect, that there has always been among +men a public and a private conscience, and that these two, alas! +have generally been very different. It is an old saying, +that ‘committees have no consciences;’ and it is too +true. A body of men acting in concert for a public purpose +will do things which they would shrink from with disgust, if the +same trick would merely put money into their private purses; and +this is too often the case when the public object is a good +one. Then the end seems to sanctify the means, to almost +any amount of chicanery.</p> +<p>So it was with those old monks. An abbey had no +conscience. An order of monks had no conscience. A +Benedictine, a Dominican, a Franciscan, who had not himself a +penny in the world, and never intended to have one, would play +tricks, lie, cheat, slander, forge, for the honour and the wealth +of his order; when for himself, and in himself, he may have been +an honest God-fearing man enough. So it was; one more ugly +fruit of an unnatural attempt to be not good men, but something +more than men; by trying to be more than men, they ended by being +less than men. That was their sin, and that sin, when it +had conceived, brought forth death.</p> +<h2>LECTURE X—THE LOMBARD LAWS</h2> +<p>I have tried to shew you how the Teutonic nations were +Christianized. I have tried to explain to you why the +clergy who converted them were, nevertheless, more or less +permanently antagonistic to them. I shall have, hereafter, +to tell you something of one of the most famous instances of that +antagonism: of the destruction of the liberties of the Lombards +by that Latin clergy. But at first you ought to know +something of the manners of these Lombards; and that you may +learn best by studying their Code.</p> +<p>They are valuable to you, as giving you a fair specimen of the +laws of an old Teutonic people. You may profitably compare +them with the old Gothic, Franco-Salic, Burgundian, Anglo-Saxon, +and Scandinavian laws, all formed on the same primæval +model, agreeing often in minute details, and betokening one +primæval origin, of awful antiquity. By studying +them, moreover, you may gain some notion of that primæval +liberty and self-government, common at first to all the race, but +preserved alone by England;—to which the descendants of +these very Lombards are at this very moment so manfully working +their way back.</p> +<p>These laws were collected and published in writing by king +Rothar, A.D. 643, 76 years after Alboin came into Italy. +The cause, he says, was the continual wearying of the poor, and +the superfluous exactions, and even violence, of the strong +against those who were weak. They are the ‘laws of +our fathers, as far as we have learnt them from ancient men, and +are published with the counsel and consent of our princes, +judges, and all our most prosperous army,’ i.e. the barons, +or freemen capable of bearing arms; ‘and are confirmed +according to the custom of our nation by garathinx,’ that +is, as far as I can ascertain from Grimm’s German Law, by +giving an earnest, garant, or warrant of the bargain.</p> +<p>Among these Lombards, as among our English forefathers, when a +man thingavit, i.e. donavit, a gift or bequest to any one, it was +necessary, according to law <span class="smcap">clxxii.</span>, +to do it before gisiles, witnesses, and to give a garathinx, or +earnest, of his bequest—a halm of straw, a turf, a cup of +drink, a piece of money—as to this day a drover seals his +bargain with a shilling, and a commercial traveller with a glass +of liquor. Whether Rothar gave the garathinx to his barons, +or his barons to him, I do not understand: but at least it is +clear from the use of this one word that the publication of these +laws was a ‘social contract’—a distinct compact +between king and people. From all which you will perceive +at once that these Lombards, like all Teutons, were a free +people, under a rough kind of constitutional monarchy. They +would have greeted with laughter the modern fable of the divine +right of kings, if by that they were expected to understand that +the will of the king was law, or that the eldest son of a certain +family had any God-given ipso-facto right to succeed his +father. Sixteen kings, says the preface, had reigned from +Agilmund to Rothar; and seven times had the royal race been +changed. That the king should belong to one of the families +who derived their pedigree from Wodin, and that a son should, as +natural, succeed his father, were old rules: but the barons +would, as all history shews, make little of crowning a younger +son instead of an elder, if the younger were a hero, and the +elder an ‘arga’—a lazy loon; and little, also, +would they make of setting aside the whole royal family, and +crowning the man who would do their business best. The king +was, as this preface and these laws shew, the commander in chief +of the exercitus, the militia, and therefore of every free man in +the state; (for all were bound to fight when required). He +was also the supreme judge, the head of the executive, dispenser +and fountain of law: but with no more power of making the law, of +breaking the law, or of arbitrarily depriving a man of his +property, than an English sovereign has now; and his power was +quamdiu se bene gesserit, and no longer, as history proves in +every page.</p> +<p>The doctrine of the divine right of kings as understood in +England in the seventeenth century, and still in some continental +countries, was, as far as I can ascertain, invented by the early +popes, not for the purpose of exalting the kings, but of +enslaving them, and through them the nations. A king and +his son’s sons had divine ‘right to govern +wrong’ not from God, but from the vicar of God and the +successor of St. Peter, to whom God had given the dominion of the +whole earth, and who had the right to anoint, or to depose, +whomsoever he would. Even in these old laws, we see that +new idea obtruding itself. ‘The king’s +heart,’ says one of them ‘is in the hand of +God.’ That is a text of Scripture. What it was +meant to mean, one cannot doubt, or by whom it was +inserted. The ‘Chancellor,’ or whoever else +transcribed those laws in Latin, was, of course, a cleric, priest +or monk. From his hand comes the first hint of arbitrary +power; the first small blot of a long dark stain of absolutism, +which was to darken and deepen through centuries of tyranny and +shame.</p> +<p>But to plead the divine right of kings, in a country which has +thrown off its allegiance to the pope, is to assert the +conclusion of a syllogism, the major and minor premiss of which +are both denied by the assertor. The arguments for such a +right drawn from the Old Testament, which were common among the +high-church party from James I. to James II. and the Nonjurors, +are really too inconsequent to require more than a passing +smile. How can you prove that a king has the power to make +laws, from the history of the Jewish nation, when that very +history represents it all through as bound by a primæval +and divinely revealed law, to which kings and people were alike +subject? How can you prove that the eldest son’s +eldest son has a divine right to wear the crown as +‘God’s anointed,’ when the very persons to whom +that title is given are generally either not eldest sons, or not +of royal race at all? The rule that the eldest son’s +eldest son should succeed, has been proved by experience to be in +practice a most excellent one: but it rests, as in England, so in +Lombardy, or Spain, or Frankreich of old time, simply upon the +consent of the barons, and the will of the thing or +parliament.</p> +<p>There is a sentimental admiration of ‘Imperialism’ +growing up now-a-days, under the pretentious titles of +‘hero-worship,’ and ‘strong government;’ +and the British constitution is represented as a clumsy and +artificial arrangement of the year 1688. 1688 after +Christ? 1688 before Christ would be nearer the mark. +It is as old, in its essentials, as the time when not only all +the Teutons formed one tribe, but when Teutons and Scandinavians +were still united—and when that was, who dare say? We +at least brought the British constitution with us out of the bogs +and moors of Jutland, along with our smock-frocks and leather +gaiters, brown bills and stone axes; and it has done us good +service, and will do, till we have carried it right round the +world.</p> +<p>As for these Lombard kings, they arose on this wise. +After Alboin’s death the Lombards were for ten years under +dukes, and evil times came, every man doing what was right in his +own eyes; enlarging their frontier by killing the Roman +landholders, and making the survivors give them up a portion of +their lands, as Odoacer first, and the Ostrogoths next, had +done. At last, tired of lawlessness, dissension and +weakness, and seemingly dreading an invasion from Childebert, +king of the Franks, they chose a king, Autharis the son of Cleph, +and called him Flavius, by which Roman title the Lombard kings +were afterwards known. Moreover, they agreed to give him (I +conclude only once for all) the half of all their substance, to +support the kingdom. There were certain tributes afterwards +paid into the king’s treasury every three years; and +certain fines, and also certain portions of the property of those +who died without direct heirs, seem to have made up the +revenue. Whereon, Paul says, perfect peace and justice +followed.</p> +<p>Now for the laws, which were reduced into writing about sixty +years afterwards. The first thing that you will remark +about these laws, is that duel, wager of battle under shield, +‘diremptio causæ per pugnam sub uno scuto,’ is +the earliest form of settling a lawsuit. If you cannot +agree, fight it out fairly, either by yourself or per campionem, +a champion or kemper man, and God defend the right. Then +follows ‘faida,’ blood-feud, from generation to +generation. To stop which a man is allowed to purge himself +by oath; his own and that of certain neighbours, twelve in +general, who will swear their belief in his innocence. This +was common to the northern nations, and was the origin of our +trial by jury. If guilty, the offender has to pay the +weregeld, or legal price, set upon the injury he has +inflicted. When the composition is paid, there is an end of +the feud; if after taking the composition the plaintiff avenges +himself, he has to pay it back. Hence our system of +fines.</p> +<p>This method of composition by fines runs through all the +Teutonic laws; and makes the punishment of death, at least among +freemen, very rare.</p> +<p>Punishments by stripes, by imprisonment, or by cruel or +degrading methods, there are none. The person of a freeman +is sacred, ‘Vincire et verberare nefas,’ as Tacitus +said of these Germans 600 years before.</p> +<p>The offences absolutely punishable by death seem to be, +treason against the king’s life; cowardice in battle; +concealment of robbers; mutinies and attempts to escape out of +the realm; and therefore (under the then military organization) +to escape from the duty of every freeman, to bear arms in defence +of the land.</p> +<p>More than a hundred of these laws define the different fines, +or ‘weregelds,’ by which each offence is to be +compounded for, from 900 solidi aurei, gold pieces, for a murder, +downwards to the smallest breach of the peace. Each limb +has its special price. For the loss of an eye, half the +price of the whole man is to be paid. A front tooth is +worth 16s., solidi aurei; their loss being a disfigurement; but a +back tooth is worth only 8s. A slave’s tooth, on the +other hand, is worth but 4s.; and in every case, the weregeld of +a slave is much less than that of a freeman.</p> +<p>The sacredness of the household, and the strong sense of the +individual rights of property, are to be remarked. One +found in a ‘court,’ courtledge (or homestead), by +night (as we say in old English), may be killed. You know, +I dare say, that in many Teutonic and Scandinavian nations the +principle that a man’s house is his castle was so strongly +held that men were not allowed to enter a condemned man’s +house to carry him off to execution; but if he would not come +out, could only burn the house over his head. Shooting, or +throwing a lance into any man’s homestead, costs 20s. +‘Oberos,’ or ‘curtis ruptura,’ that is, +making violent entry into a man’s homestead, costs 20s. +also. Nay, merely to fetch your own goods out of another +man’s house secretly, and without asking leave, was +likewise punished as oberos.</p> +<p>So of personal honour. ‘Schelte’ or insult, +for instance, to call a man arga, i.e. a lazy loon, is a serious +offence. If the defendant will confess that he said it in a +passion, and will take oath that he never knew the plaintiff to +be arga, he must still pay 12<i>s.</i>; but if he will stand to +his word, then he must fight it out by duel, sub uno scuto.</p> +<p>The person, for the same reason, was sacred. If a man +had lain in wait for a freeman, ‘cum virtute et +solatio,’ with valour and comfort, i.e. with armed men to +back him, and had found him standing or walking simply, and had +shamefully held him, or ‘battiderit,’ committed +assault and battery on him, he must pay half the man’s +weregeld; the ‘turpiter et ridiculum’ being +considered for a freeman as half as bad as death. Here you +find in private life, as well as in public, the vincire et +verberare nefas.</p> +<p>If, again, one had a mind to lose 80 shillings of gold, he +need but to commit the offence of ‘meerworphin,’ a +word which will puzzle you somewhat, till you find it to signify +‘mare warping,’ to warp, or throw one’s +neighbour off his mare or horse.</p> +<p>A blow with the closed fist, again, costs three shillings: but +one with the open hand, six. The latter is an insult as +well as an injury. A freeman is struck with the fist, but a +slave with the palm of the hand. Breaking a man’s +head costs six solidi. But if one had broken his skull, +then (as in the Alemannic laws) one must pay twelve shillings, +and twelve more for each fracture up to three—after which +they are not counted. But a piece of bone must come out +which will make a sound when thrown into a shield twelve feet +off; which feet are to be measured by that of a man of middle +stature. From which strange law may be deduced, not only +the toughness of the Lombard brain-pan, but the extreme necessity +of defining each particular, in order to prevent subsequent +disputes, followed up by a blood-feud, which might be handed down +from father to son. For by accepting the legal fine, the +injured man expressly renounced his primæval right of +feud.</p> +<p>Then follow some curious laws in favour of the masters of +Como, Magistri Comacenes, who seem to have been a guild of +architects, perhaps the original germ of the great society of +free-masons—belonging, no doubt, to the Roman +population—who were settled about the lake of Como, and +were hired, on contract, (as the laws themselves express,) to +build for the Lombards, who of course had no skill to make +anything beyond a skin-tent or a log-hall.</p> +<p>Then follow laws against incendiaries; a fine for damage by +accidental house-fire, if the offender have carried fire more +than nine feet from the hearth; a law against leaving a fire +alight on a journey, as in the Australian colonies now. +Then laws to protect mills; important matters in those days, +being unknown to the Lombards before their entrance into +Italy.</p> +<p>Then laws of inheritance; on which I shall remark, that +natural sons, if free, are to have a portion of their +father’s inheritance; but less than the legitimate sons: +but that a natural son born of a slave remains a slave, +‘nisi pater liberum thingaverit.’ This cruel +law was the law of Rome and of the Church; our Anglo-Saxon +forefathers, to their honour, held the reverse rule. +‘Semper a patre, non a matre, generationis ordo +texitur.’ Next, it is to be remarked, that no free +woman can live in Lombardy, or, I believe, in any Teutonic state, +save under the ‘mundium’ of some one. You +should understand this word ‘mund.’ Among most +of the Teutonic races, women, slaves, and youths, at least not of +age to carry arms, were under the mund of some one. Of +course, primarily the father, head of the family, and if he died, +an uncle, elder brother, &c. The married woman was, of +course, under the mund of her husband. He was answerable +for the good conduct of all under his mund; he had to pay their +fines if they offended; and he was bound, on the other hand, to +protect them by all lawful means.</p> +<p>This system still lingers in the legal status of women in +England, for good and evil; the husband is more or less +answerable for the wife’s debts; the wife, till lately, was +unable to gain property apart from her husband’s control; +the wife is supposed, in certain cases of law, to act under the +husband’s compulsion. All these, and many others, are +relics of the old system of mund for women; and that system has, +I verily believe, succeeded. It has called out, as no other +system could have done, chivalry in the man. It has made +him feel it a duty and an honour to protect the physically weaker +sex. It has made the woman feel that her influence, whether +in the state or in the family, is to be not physical and legal, +but moral and spiritual; and that it therefore rests on a ground +really nobler and deeper than that of the man. The modern +experiments for emancipating women from all mund, and placing +them on a physical and legal equality with the man, may be right, +and may be ultimately successful. We must not hastily +prejudge them. But of this we may be almost certain; that +if they succeed, they will cause a wide-spread revolution in +society, of which the patent danger will be, the destruction of +the feeling of chivalry, and the consequent brutalization of the +male sex.</p> +<p>Then follow laws relating to marriage and women, of which I +may remark, that (as in Tacitus’ time), the woman brings +her dowry, or ‘fader fee,’ to her husband; and that +the morning after the wedding she receives from him, if he be +content with her, her morgen gap, or morning gift; which remains +her own private property, unless she misbehaves.</p> +<p>The honour of women, whether in fact or merely in fame, is +protected by many severe laws, among which I shall only notice, +that the calling a free woman ‘striga’ (witch) is +severely punishable. If any one does so who has the mund of +her, except her father or brother, he loses his mund.</p> +<p>On the whole, woman’s condition seems inferior to +man’s on some points: but superior on others. e.g. A +woman’s weregeld—the price of her life—is 1200 +solidi; while the man’s is only 900. For he can +defend himself, but she cannot. On the other hand, if a man +kill his wife, he pays only the 1200 solidi, and loses her dowry: +but if she kill him, she dies.</p> +<p>Again. If a free man be caught thieving, up to the +amount of 20 siliquæ, beans, <i>i.e.</i> one gold +piece—though Pope Gregory makes the solidus (aureus) 24 +siliquæ—he replaces the theft, and pays 80 solidi, or +dies; and a slave one half, or dies.</p> +<p>But if a free woman is taken in theft, she only replaces it; +for she has suffered for her wrong-doing, and must lay it to her +own shame, that she has tried to do ‘operam +indecentem,’ a foul deed. And if an aldia or +slave-woman steals, her master replaces the theft, and pays 40 +solidi, minus the value of the stolen goods—and beats her +afterwards, I presume, if he chooses.</p> +<p>And now concerning slaves, who seem to have been divided into +three classes.</p> +<p>The Aldius and Aldia, masculine and feminine, who were of a +higher rank than other slaves.</p> +<p>The Aldius could marry a free woman, while the slave marrying +a free woman is punishable by death; and, as experimentum crucis, +if an Aldius married an Aldia or a free woman, the children +followed the father. If he married a slave, the children +followed the mother, and became slaves of his lord.</p> +<p>The Aldius, again, may not sell his lord’s land or +slaves, which indicates that he held land and slaves under his +lord.</p> +<p>What the word means, Grimm does not seem to know. He +thinks it synonymous with ‘litus,’ of whom we hear as +early as Tacitus’ time, as one of the four classes, nobles, +freemen, liti, slaves; and therefore libertus, a freedman. +But the word does not merely mean, it appears, a slave half freed +by his master; but one rather hereditarily half free, and holding +a farm under his lord.</p> +<p>Dió, however, is said to be an old German word for a +slave; and it is possible that aldius (a word only known, +seemingly, in Lombardy) may have signified originally an old +slave, an old Roman colonus, or peasant of some sort, found by +the conquerors in possession of land, and allowed to retain, and +till it, from father to son. We, in England, had the same +distinction between ‘Læt,’ or +‘villains’ settled on the land, glebæ +adscripti, and mere thralls or theows, slaves pure and +simple. No doubt such would have better terms than the mere +mancipia—slaves taken in war, or bought—for the +simple reason, that they would be agriculturists, practised in +the Roman tillage, understanding the mysteries of irrigation, +artificial grasses, and rotation of crops, as well as the culture +of vines, fruit, and olives.</p> +<p>Next to them you have different sorts of slaves; Servus +massarius, who seems to be also rusticanus, one who takes care of +his lord’s ‘massa’ or farm, and is allowed a +peculium, it seems, some animals of his own, which he may not +sell, though he may give them away. And again, servus +doctus, an educated household slave, whose weregeld is higher +than that of others.</p> +<p>The laws relating to fugitive slaves seem as merciful as such +things can be; and the Lombards have always had the credit of +being kind and easy masters.</p> +<p>Connected with fugitive slaves are laws about portunarii, +ferrymen, who appear, as you know, in the old ballads as very +important, and generally formidable men. The fight between +Von Troneg Hagen and the old ferryman in the Nibelungen Lied, is +a famous instance of the ancient ferrymen’s prowess. +One can easily understand how necessary strict laws were, to +prevent these ferrymen carrying over fugitive slaves, outlaws, +and indeed any one without due caution; for each man was bound to +remain in his own province, that he might be ready when called on +for military service; and a traveller to foreign parts was looked +on as a deserter from his liege-lord and country.</p> +<p>Then follow a great number of laws, to me both amusing and +instructive, as giving us some glimpse of the country life of +those Lombards in the 8th century.</p> +<p>Scattered in the vast woodlands and marshes lie small farms, +enclosed by ditches and posts and rails, from which if you steal +a rail, you are fined 1s., if you steal a post, 3s. There +were stake fences, which you must be careful in making, for if a +horse stakes himself by leaping in, you pay nothing; but if he +does so by leaping out, you pay the price of the horse. +Moreover, you must leave no sharp stakes standing out of the +hedge; for if a man or beast wounds himself thereby in passing, +you have to pay full weregeld.</p> +<p>Walking over sown land, or sending a woman of your mundium to +do so, in accordance with an ancient superstition, is a severe +offence; so is injuring a vineyard, or taking more than tres +uvæ (bunches of grapes, I presume) from the vine. +Injuring landmarks cut on the trees (theclaturas and signaturas) +or any other boundary mark, is severely punishable either in a +slave, or in a freeman.</p> +<p>In the vast woods range herds of swine, and in the pastures, +horses, cared for by law; for to take a herd of swine or brood +mares as pledge, without the king’s leave, is punishable by +death, or a fine of 900<i>s.</i> Oxen or horses used to the +yoke can be taken as pledge; but only by leave of the king, or of +the schuldhais (local magistrate), on proof that the debtor has +no other property; for by them he gets his living. If, +however, you find pigs routing in your enclosure, you may kill +one, under certain restrictions, but not the +‘sornpair,’ sounder boar, who ‘battit et +vincit’ all the other boars in the sounder (old English for +herd).</p> +<p>Rival swineherds, as is to be supposed, ‘battidunt inter +se,’ and ‘scandalum faciunt,’ often +enough. Whereon the law advises them to fight it out, and +then settle the damage between them.</p> +<p>Horses are cared for. To ride another man’s horse +costs 2s.; to dock or crop him, eight-fold the damage; and so on +of hurting another man’s horse. Moreover, if your +neighbour’s dog flies at you, you may hit him with a stick +or little sword, and kill him, but if you throw a stone after him +and kill him, you being then out of danger, you must give the +master a new dog.</p> +<p>Then there are quaint laws about hunting; and damage caused by +wild beasts caught in snares or brought to bay. A wounded +stag belongs to the man who has wounded it for twenty-four hours: +but after that to anyone. Tame deer, it is observable, are +kept; and to kill a doe or fawn costs 6s., to kill a buck, +12s. Tame hawks, cranes, and swans, if taken in snares, +cost 6s. But any man may take flying hawks out of his +neighbour’s wood, but not out of the Gaias Regis, the +king’s gehage, haies, hedges, or enclosed parks.</p> +<p>And now, I have but one more law to mention—would God +that it had been in force in later centuries—</p> +<p>‘Let no one presume to kill another man’s aldia or +ancilla, as a striga, witch, which is called masca; because it is +not to be believed by Christian minds, that a woman can eat up a +live man from within; and if any one does so he shall pay 60s. as +her price, and for his fault, half to her master, and half to the +king.’</p> +<p>This last strange law forces on us a serious question, one +which may have been suggesting itself to you throughout my +lecture. If these were the old Teutonic laws, this the old +Teutonic liberty, the respect for man as man, for woman as woman, +whence came the opposite element? How is it that these +liberties have been lost throughout almost all Europe? How +is it that a system of law prevailed over the whole continent, up +to the French revolution, and prevails still in too many +countries, the very opposite of all this?</p> +<p>I am afraid that I must answer, Mainly through the influence +of the Roman clergy during the middle age.</p> +<p>The original difference of race between the clergy and the +Teutonic conquerors, which I have already pointed out to you, had +a curious effect, which lingers to this day. It placed the +Church in antagonism, more or less open, to the civil +administration of justice. The criminal was looked on by +the priest rather as a sufferer to be delivered, than an offender +to be punished. All who are conversant with the lives of +saints must recollect cases in which the saint performs even +miracles on behalf of the condemned. Mediæval tales +are full of instances of the same feeling which prompted the +Italian brigands, even in our own times, to carry a leaden +saint’s image in his hat as a safeguard. In an old +French fabliau, for instance, we read how a certain +highway-robber was always careful to address his prayers to the +Blessed Virgin, before going out to murder and steal; and found +the practice pay him well. For when he was taken and +hanged, our Lady put her ‘mains blanches’ under his +feet, and supported him invisibly for a whole day, till the +executioner, finding it impossible to kill him, was forced to let +him retire peaceably into a monastery, where he lived and died +devoutly. We may laugh at such fancies; or express, if we +will, our abhorrence of their immorality: but it will be more +useful to examine into the causes which produced them. They +seem to have been twofold. In the first place, the Church +did not look on the Teutonic laws, whether Frank, Burgund, Goth +or Lombard, as law at all. Her law, whether ecclesiastical +or civil, was formed on the Roman model; and by it alone she +wished herself, and those who were under her protection, to be +judged. Next—and this count is altogether to her +honour—law, such as it was, was too often administered, +especially by the Franks, capriciously and brutally; while the +servile population, always the great majority, can hardly be said +to have been under the protection of law at all. No one can +read the pages of Fredegarius, or Gregory of Tours, without +seeing that there must have been cases weekly, even daily, which +called on the clergy, in the name of justice and humanity, to +deliver if possible, the poor from him that spoiled him; which +excused fully the rise of the right of sanctuary, and of benefit +of clergy, afterwards so much abused; which made it a pious duty +in prelates to work themselves into power at court, and there, as +the ‘Chancellors’ of princes, try to get something +like regular justice done; and naturally enough, to remodel the +laws of each nation on the time-honoured and scientific Roman +form. Nevertheless, the antagonism of the Church to the +national and secular law remained for centuries. It died +out first perhaps, in England, after the signature of Magna +Charta. For then the English prelates began to take up that +truly Protestant and national attitude which issued in the great +Reformation: but it lingers still in Ireland and in Italy. +It lingered in France up to the French revolution, as may be seen +notably in the account of the execution of the Marquise de +Brinvilliers, by the priest who attended her. Horror at her +atrocious crimes is quite swallowed up, in the mind of the good +father, by sympathy with her suffering; and the mob snatch her +bones from the funeral pile, and keep them as the relics of a +saint.</p> +<p>But more. While the Roman clergy did real good to +Europe, in preserving the scientific elements of Roman law, they +did harm by preserving therewith other elements—Roman +chicane, and Roman cruelty. In that respect, as in others, +‘Rome conquered her conquerors;’ and the descendants +of those Roman lawyers, whom the honest Teutons called adders, +and as adders killed them down, destroyed, in course of time, +Teutonic freedom.</p> +<p>But those descendants were, alas! the clergy. Weak, they +began early to adopt those arms of quibbling and craft, which +religious men too often fancy are the proper arms of ‘the +saints’ against ‘the world.’ Holding +human nature in suspicion and contempt, they early gave way to +the maxim of the savage, that every one is likely to be guilty +till proved innocent, and therefore licensed the stupid +brutalities of torture to extract confession. Holding +self-degradation to be a virtue, and independence as a carnal +vice; glorying in being slaves themselves, till to become, under +the name of holy obedience, ‘perinde ac cadaver,’ was +the ideal of a good monk; and accustomed, themselves, to +degrading corporal punishment; they did not shrink from +inflicting, even on boys and women, tortures as dastardly as +indecent. Looking on the world, and on the future of the +human race, through a medium compared with which the darkest +fancies of a modern fanatic are bright and clear, they did not +shrink from inflicting penalties, the very mention of which makes +the blood run cold. Suspecting, if not alternately envying +and despising, all women who were not nuns; writing openly of the +whole sex (until unsexed) as the snare and curse of mankind; and +possessed by a Manichæan belief in the power and presence +of innumerable demons, whose especial victims were women; they +erected witch-hunting into a science; they pandered to, and +actually formalized, and justified on scientific grounds, the +most cruel and cowardly superstitions of the mob; and again and +again raised literal crusades against women, torturing, exposing, +burning, young and old, not merely in the witch-mania of the 17th +century, but through the whole middle age. It is a +detestable page of history. I ask those who may think my +statement exaggerated, to consult the original authorities. +Let them contrast Rothar’s law about the impossibility of +witchcraft, with the pages of the Malleus Maleficarum, +Nider’s Fornicarium, or Delrio the Jesuit, and see for +themselves who were the false teachers. And if they be +told, that the cruelties of the Inquisition were only those in +vogue according to the secular law of the day, let them recollect +that the formulizers of that law were none other than the +celibate Roman clergy.</p> +<p>I do not deny that there was in all this a just, though a +terrible, Nemesis. What was the essential fault of these +Lombard laws—indeed of all the Teutonic codes? +This—that there was one law for the free man, another for +the slave. Ecclesiastical dominion was necessary, to make +one law for all classes, even though it were a law of common +slavery. As the free had done to the slave, even so, and +far worse, would the Roman clergy do to them. The Albigense +persecutors, burning sixty ladies in one day; Conrad of Marpurg +scourging his own sovereign, St. Elizabeth; shaving the Count of +Saiym’s head; and burning noble ladies almost without +trial; Sprenger and his compeers, offering up female hecatombs of +the highest blood thoughout Germany; English bishops burning in +Smithfield Anne Askew, the hapless court-beauty, and her +fellow-courtier Mr. Lascelles, just as if they had been Essex or +Berkshire peasants;—all these evildoers were welding the +different classes of the European nations, by a community of +suffering, into nations; into the belief that free and slave had +one blood, one humanity, one conscience, one capacity of +suffering; and at last, one capacity of rebelling, and making +common cause, high and low alike, against him who reigned in +Italy under the ‘Romani nominis umbram.’</p> +<p>And if our English law, our English ideas of justice and +mercy, have retained, more than most European codes, the freedom, +the truthfulness, the kindliness, of the old Teutonic laws, we +owe it to the fact, that England escaped, more than any other +land, the taint of effete Roman civilization; that she therefore +first of the lands, in the 12th century, rebelled against, and +first of them, in the 16th century, threw off, the Ultramontane +yoke.</p> +<p>And surely it will be so, in due time, with the descendants of +these very Lombards. We have seen them in these very years +arise out of the dust and shame of centuries, and determine to be +Lombards once again. We have seen a hero arise among them +of the true old Teuton stamp, bearing worthily the name which his +forefathers brought over the Alps with Alboin—Garibald, the +‘bold in war.’ May they succeed in the same +noble struggle as that in which we succeeded, and returning, not +in letter, but in spirit, to the old laws of Rothar and their +free forefathers, become the leading race of a free and united +Italy!</p> +<h2>LECTURE XI—THE POPES AND THE LOMBARDS</h2> +<p>‘Our Lady the Mother of God, even Virgin Maria, together +with us, protests to you, adjuring you with great obligations, +and admonishes and commands you, and with her the thrones, +dominations, all the heavenly angels, the martyrs and confessors +of Christ, on behalf of the Roman city, committed to us by the +Lord God, and the sheep of the Lord dwelling in it. Defend +and free it speedily from the hands of the persecuting Lombards, +lest my body which suffered torments for Christ, and my home in +which it rests by the command of God, be contaminated by the +people of the Lombards, who are guilty of such iniquitous +perjury, and are proud transgressors of the divine +scripture. So will I at the day of judgment reward you with +my patronage, and prepare for you in the kingdom of God most +shining and glorious tabernacles, promising you the reward of +eternal retribution, and the infinite joys of paradise.</p> +<p>‘Run, by the true and living God I exhort you, run, and +help; before the living fountain, whence you were consecrated and +born again, shall dry up: before the little spark remaining of +that brilliant flame, from which you knew the light, be +extinguished; before your spiritual mother, the holy Church of +God, in which you hope to receive eternal life, shall be +humiliated, invaded, violated, and defiled by the impious.</p> +<p>‘But if not, may your provinces in return, and your +possessions, be invaded by people whom you know not. +Separate not yourselves from my Roman people; so you will not be +aliens, and separate from the kingdom of God, and eternal +life. For whatever you shall ask of me, I will surely give +you, and be your patron. Assist my Roman people, your +brothers; and strive more perfectly; for it is written, No man +receiveth the crown, unless he strive lawfully.</p> +<p>‘I conjure you, most beloved, by the living God, leave +not this my city of Rome to be any longer torn by the Lombards, +lest your bodies and souls be torn and tormented for ever, in +inextinguishable and Tartarian fire with the devil and his +pestiferous angels; and let not the sheep of the Lord’s +flock, which are the Roman people, be dispersed any more, lest +the Lord disperse you, and cast you forth as the people of Israel +was dispersed.’</p> +<p>You will conclude, doubtless, that this curious document can +be nothing but a papal allocution. Its peculiar scriptural +style (wrongly supposed to have been invented by the Puritans, +who merely learnt it from the old Roman clergy), as well as the +self-conceit, which fancies the fate of the whole world to depend +on the prosperity of a small half-ruined city in Italy, will be +to you sufficient marks of the Roman hand. But you will be +somewhat mistaken. It is hardly an epistle from the +successor of St. Peter. It professes to be an epistle from +St. Peter himself, and sent by him through the hands of Pope +Stephen III. to Pepin the king of the Franks, in the year +755. You will have concluded also from it, that Catholic +Christianity is in its extreme agony; that the worship and name +of our Lord, and the fountains of sacramental grace are about to +be extinguished for ever, and that nothing but heresy or +heathendom can follow. Then you will be quite +mistaken. These Lombards are pious Catholics. +Builders of churches and monasteries, they are taking up the +relics of the Roman martyrs, to transfer them to the churches of +Milan and Pavia. They have just given Pope Stephen the most +striking proof of their awe of his person and office. But +they are quarrelling with him about the boundaries of his estates +for the patrimony of St. Peter. They consider that he and +his predecessors have grossly wronged them at different times; +and now last of all, by calling in foreign invaders; and they are +at the gates of Rome laying waste the country, and demanding a +poll-tax as ransom. That is all.</p> +<p>The causes which led to this quarrel must be sought far back +in history. The original documents in which you will find +the facts will be Paulus Diaconus, as far as King +Luitprand’s death; then the Life and Writings of Gregory +the Great; and then Baronius’ Annals, especially his +quotations from Anastasius’ Life of Stephen III., bearing +in mind that, as with the Ostrogoths, we have only the Roman +Papal story; that the Lombards have never stated their case, not +even through Paulus Diaconus, who, being a clergyman, prudently +holds his tongue about the whole matter. But by far the +best account is to be found in Dean Milman’s ‘Latin +Christianity,’ Vols. I. and II. Rome, you must +understand, has become gradually the patrimony of St. Peter; the +Popes are the practical kings of Rome, possessing, in the name of +the Church, much land round Rome, and many estates scattered +throughout Italy, and even in Sicily, Gaul, Africa, and the +East—estates probably bequeathed by pious people. +They have succeeded to this jurisdiction simply by default. +They rule Rome, because there is no one else to rule it. We +find St. Gregory the Great feeding the pauper-masses of Rome, on +the first day of every month, from the fruitful corn-bearing +estates in Sicily; keeping up the ‘Panem;’ but +substituting, thank Heaven, for the ‘Circenses’ at +least the services of the Church. Of course, the man who +could keep the Roman people alive must needs become, ipso facto, +their monarch.</p> +<p>The Pope acknowledges, of course, a certain allegiance to the +Emperor at Constantinople, and therefore to his representative, +the Exarch of Ravenna: that is to say, he meets them with +flattery when they are working on his side; with wrath when they +oppose him. He intrigues with them, too, whenever he can +safely do so, against the Lombards.</p> +<p>Thus the Pope has become, during the four centuries which +followed the destruction of the Western Empire, the sole +surviving representative of that Empire. He is the head of +the ‘gens togata;’ of the ‘Senatus Populusque +Romanus.’ In him Rome has risen again out of her +grave, to awe the peoples once more by the Romani nominis umbra; +and to found a new Empire; not as before, on physical force, and +the awe of visible power; but on the deeper and more enduring +ground of spiritual force, and the awe of the invisible +world.</p> +<p>An Empire, I say. The Popes were becoming, from the 5th +to the 8th centuries, not merely the lords of Rome, but the lords +of the Western Church. Their spiritual Empire, to do them +justice, was not so much deliberately sought by them, as thrust +upon them. As the clergy were, all over the Empire, the +representatives of the down-trodden Romans, so they naturally +gravitated toward the Eternal City, their ancient mistress. +Like all disciplined and organized bodies they felt the need of +unity, of monarchy. Where could they find it, save at +Rome? Rome was still, practically and in fact, the fountain +of their doctrine, of their superior civilization; and to submit +themselves to the Pope of Rome was their only means of keeping up +one faith, one practice, and the strength which comes from +union.</p> +<p>To seat the Pope upon the throne of the Cæsars; to +attribute to him powers weightier than all which the Cæsars +had possest . . . It was a magnificent idea. A politic +idea, too; for it would cover the priesthood with all the +prestige of ancient Rome, and enable them to face the barbarian +in the name of that great people whose very memory still awed +him; whose baths, aqueducts, palaces, he looked on as the work of +demons; whose sages and poets were to him enchanters; whose very +gems, dug out of the ruins by night, in fear and trembling, +possest magic influence for healing, for preservation, for good +fortune in peace or war.</p> +<p>Politic; and in their eyes, true. Easy enough to be +believed honestly, by men who already believed honestly in their +own divine mission. They were the representatives of Christ +on earth. Of that fact there could be then, or can be now, +no doubt whatsoever. Whatsoever truth, light, +righteousness, there was in the West, came to it through +them. And Christ was the King of kings. But He +delayed his coming: at moments, He seemed to have deserted the +earth, and left mankind to tear itself in pieces, with wild war +and misrule. But it could not be so. If Christ were +absent, He must at least have left an authority behind Him to +occupy till He came; a head and ruler for his opprest and +distracted Church. And who could that be, if not the Pope +of Rome?</p> +<p>It ought to be so.—It must be so—thought +they. And to men in that mood, proofs that it was so soon +came to hand, and accumulated from generation to generation; till +the Pope at last found himself proclaiming, and what was more, +believing, that God had given the whole world to St. Peter, and +through St. Peter to him; and that he was the only source of +power, law, kingship, who could set up and pull down whom he +would, as the vicegerent of God on earth.</p> +<p>Such pretensions, of course, grew but slowly. It was +not, I believe, till the year 875, 180 years after the time of +which I am speaking, that Pope John VIII. distinctly asserted his +right, as representative of the ancient Roman Empire, to create +the Cæsar; and informed the Synod of Pavia that he had +‘elected and approved Charles the Bald, with the consent of +his brothers the bishops, of the other ministers of the Holy +Roman Church, and’ (significant, though empty words) +‘of the Roman senate and people.’</p> +<p>At the time of which I speak, the power was still in embryo, +growing, through many struggles: but growing surely and strongly, +and destined speedily to avenge the fall of Rome on the simple +barbarians who were tearing each other to pieces over her +spoils.</p> +<p>It is not easy to explain the lasting and hereditary hatred of +the Popes to the Lombards. Its origin is simple enough: but +not so its continuance. Why they should be nefandissimi in +the eyes of Pope Gregory the Great one sees: but why 100 years +afterwards, they should be still nefandissimi, and ‘non +dicenda gens Langobardorum,’ not to be called a nation, is +puzzling.</p> +<p>At first, of course, the Pope could only look on them as a +fresh horde of barbarous conquerors; half heathen, half +Arian. Their virtuous and loyal life within the boundaries +of Alboin’s conquests—of which Paulus Diaconus says, +that violence and treachery were unknown—that no one +oppressed, no one plundered—that the traveller went where +he would in perfect safety—all this would be hid from the +Pope by the plain fact, that they were continually enlarging +their frontier toward Rome; that they had founded two +half-independent Dukedoms of Beneventum and Spoleto, that +Autharis had swept over South Italy, and ridden his horse into +the sea at Reggio, to strike with his lance a column in the +waves, and cry, ‘Here ends the Lombard kingdom.’</p> +<p>The Pope (Gregory the Great I am speaking of) could only +recollect, again, that during the lawless interregnum before +Autharis’ coronation, the independent Lombard dukes had +plundered churches and monasteries, slain the clergy, and +destroyed the people, who had ‘grown up again like +corn.’</p> +<p>But as years rolled on, these Arian Lombards had become good +Catholics; and that in the lifetime of Gregory the Great.</p> +<p>Theodelinda, the Bavarian princess, she to whom Autharis had +gone in disguise to her father’s court, and only confessed +himself at his departure, by rising in his stirrups, and burying +his battle-axe in a tree stem with the cry, ‘Thus smites +Autharis the Lombard,’—this Theodelinda, I say, had +married after his death Agilwulf his cousin, and made him king of +the Lombards.</p> +<p>She was a Catholic; and through her Gregory the Great +converted Autharis, and the Lombard nation. To her he +addressed those famous dialogues of his, full alike of true piety +and earnestness, and of childish superstition. But in +judging them and him we must bear in mind, that these Lombards +became at least by his means Catholics, and that Arians would +have believed in the superstitions just as much as +Catholics. And it is surely better to believe a great +truth, plus certain mistakes which do not affect it in the least, +than a great lie, plus the very same mistakes likewise. +Which is best, to believe that the road to London lies through +Bishopstortford, and that there are dog-headed men on the road: +or that it lies through Edinburgh, but that there are dog-headed +men on that road too?</p> +<p>Theodelinda had built at Modicæa, twelve miles above +Milan, a fair basilica to John the Baptist, enriched by her and +the Lombard kings and dukes, ‘crowns, crosses, golden +tables adorned with emeralds, hyacinths, amber, carbuncles and +pearls, gold and silver altar-cloths, and that admirable cup of +sapphire,’ all which remained till the eighteenth +century. There, too, was the famous iron crown of Lombardy, +which Austria still claims as her own; so called from a thin ring +of iron inserted in it, made from a nail of the true cross which +Gregory had sent Agilwulf; just as he sent Childebert, the +Frankish king, some filings of St. Peter’s chains; which +however, he says, did not always allow their sacred selves to be +filed.</p> +<p>In return, Agilwulf had restored the church-property which he +had plundered, had reinstated the bishops; and why did not all go +well? Why are these Lombards still the most wicked of +men?</p> +<p>Again, in the beginning of the eighth century came the days of +the good Luitprand, ‘wise and pious, a lover of peace, and +mighty in war; merciful to offenders, chaste and modest, instant +in prayer, bountiful in alms, equal to the philosophers, though +he knew no letters, a nourisher of his people, an augmenter of +the laws.’ He it was, who, when he had quarrelled +with Pope Gregory II., and marched on Rome, was stopped at the +Gates of the Vatican by the Pontiff’s prayers and +threats. And a sacred awe fell on him; and humbly entering +St. Peter’s, he worshipped there, and laid on the +Apostle’s tomb his royal arms, his silver cross and crown +of gold, and withdrawing his army, went home again in +peace. But why were this great king’s good deeds +towards the Pope and the Catholic faith rewarded, by what we can +only call detestable intrigue and treachery?</p> +<p>Again; Leo the Iconoclast Emperor destroyed the holy images in +the East, and sent commands to the Exarch of Ravenna to destroy +them in western Italy. Pope Gregory II. replied by +renouncing allegiance to the Emperor of Constantinople; and by +two famous letters which are still preserved; in which he tells +the Iconoclast Emperor, that, ‘if he went round the +grammar-schools at Rome, the children would throw their +horn-books at his head . . . that he implored Christ to send the +Emperor a devil, for the destruction of his body and the +salvation of his soul . . . that if he attempted to destroy the +images in Rome, the pontiff would take refuge with the Lombards, +and then he might as well chase the wind that the Popes were the +mediators of peace between East and West, and that the eyes of +the nations were fixed on the Pope’s humility, and adored +as a God on earth the apostle St. Peter. And that the pious +Barbarians, kindled into rage, thirsted to avenge the persecution +of the East.’ Then Luitprand took up the cause of the +Pope and his images, and of the mob, who were furious at the loss +of their idols; and marched on Ravenna, which opened her gates to +him, so that he became master of the whole Pentapolis; and +image-worship, to which some plainspoken people give a harsher +name, was saved for ever and a day in Italy. Why did +Gregory II. in return, call in Orso, the first Venetian Doge, to +expel from Ravenna the very Luitprand who had fought his battles +for him, and to restore that Exarchate of Ravenna, of which it +was confessed, that its civil quarrels, misrule, and extortions, +made it the most miserable government in Italy? And why did +he enter into secret negotiations with the Franks to come and +invade Italy?</p> +<p>Again, when Luitprand wanted to reduce the duchies of +Beneventum and Spoleto, which he considered as rebels against +him, their feudal suzerain; why did the next Pope, Gregory III., +again send over the Alps to Charles Martel to come and invade +Italy, and deliver the Church and Christ’s people from +ruin?</p> +<p>And who were these Franks, the ancestors of that magnificent, +but profligate aristocracy whose destruction our grandfathers +beheld in 1793? I have purposely abstained from describing +them, till they appear upon the stage of Italy, and take part in +her fortunes—which were then the fortunes of the world.</p> +<p>They appear first on the Roman frontier in A.D. 241, and from +that time are never at rest till they have conquered the north of +Gaul. They are supposed (with reason) not to have been a +race or tribe at all; but a confederation of warriors, who were +simply ‘Franken,’ ‘free;’ ‘free +companions,’ or ‘free lances,’ as they would +have been called a few centuries later; who recruited themselves +from any and every tribe who would join them in war and +plunder. If this was the case; if they had thrown away, as +adventurers, much of the old Teutonic respect for law, for the +royal races, for family life, for the sacred bonds of kindred, +many of their peculiarities are explained. Falsehood, +brutality, lawlessness, ignorance, and cruelty to the conquered +Romans, were their special sins; while their special, and indeed +only virtue, was that indomitable daring which they transmitted +to their descendants for so many hundred years. The +buccaneers of the young world, they were insensible to all +influences save that of superstition. They had become, +under Clovis, orthodox Christians: but their conversion, to judge +from the notorious facts of history, worked little improvement on +their morals. The pages of Gregory of Tours are comparable, +for dreary monotony of horrors, only to those of Johnson’s +History of the Pyrates.</p> +<p>But, as M. Sismondi well remarks, their very ignorance and +brutality made them the more easily the tools of the Roman +clergy: ‘Cette haute vénération pour +l’Église, et leur sévère orthodoxie, +d’autant plus facile à conserver que, ne faisant +aucune étude, et ne disputant jamais sur la foi, ils ne +connaissaient pas même les questions controversées, +leur donnèrent dans le clergé de puissants +auxiliaires. Les Francs se montrèrent +disposés à haïr les Ariens, à les +combattres, et les dépouiller sans les entendre; les +évêques, en retour, ne se montrèrent pas +scrupuleux sur le reste des enseignements moraux de la religion: +ils fermèrent les yeux sur les violences, le meurtre, le +déréglement des moeurs; ils autorisèrent en +quelque sorte publiquement la poligamie, et ils +prêchèrent le droit divin des rois et le devoir le +l’obéissance pour les peuples <a +name="citation279"></a><a href="#footnote279" +class="citation">[279]</a>.’</p> +<p>A painful picture of the alliance: but, I fear, too true.</p> +<p>The history of these Franks you must read for +yourselves. You will find it well told in the pages of +Sismondi, and in Mr. Perry’s excellent book, ‘The +Franks.’ It suffices now to say, that in the days of +Luitprand these Franks, after centuries of confusion and +bloodshed, have been united into one great nation, stretching +from the Rhine to the Loire and the sea, and encroaching +continually to the southward and eastward. The government +has long passed out of the hands of their fainéant +Meerwing kings into that of the semi-hereditary Majores +Domûs, or Mayors of the Palace; and Charles Martel, perhaps +the greatest of that race of great men, has just made himself +mayor of Austrasia (the real Teutonic centre of Frank life and +power), Neustria and Burgundy. He has crushed Eudo, the +duke of Romanized Aquitaine, and has finally delivered France and +Christendom from the invading Saracens. On his Franks, and +on the Lombards of Italy, rest, for the moment, the destinies of +Europe.</p> +<p>For meanwhile another portent has appeared, this time out of +the far East. Another swarm of destroyers has swept over +the earth. The wild Arabs of the desert, awakening into +sudden life and civilization under the influence of a new creed, +have overwhelmed the whole East, the whole north of Africa, +destroying the last relics of Roman and Greek civilization, and +with them the effete and semi-idolatrous Christianity of the +Empire. All the work of Narses and Belisarius is +undone. Arab Emirs rule in the old kingdom of the +Vandals. The new human deluge has crossed the Straits into +Europe. The Visigoths, enervated by the luxurious climate +of Spain, have recoiled before the Mussulman invaders. +Roderick, the last king of the Goths, is wandering as an unknown +penitent in expiation of his sin against the fair Cava, which +brought down (so legends and ballads tell) the scourge of God +upon the hapless land; and the remnants of the old Visigoths and +Sueves are crushed together into the mountain fastnesses of +Asturias and Gallicia, thence to reissue, after long centuries, +as the noble Spanish nation, wrought in the forges of adversity +into the likeness of tempered steel; and destined to reconquer, +foot by foot, their native land from the Moslem invader.</p> +<p>But at present the Crescent was master of the Cross; and +beyond the Pyrenees all was slavery and +‘miscreance.’ The Arabs, invading France in +732, in countless thousands, had been driven back at the great +fight of Tours, with a slaughter so great, that the excited +imagination of Paulus Diaconus sees 375,000 miscreants dead upon +the field, while only 1500 Franks had perished. But home +troubles had prevented ‘the Hammer of the Moors’ from +following up his victory. The Saracens had returned in +force in 737, and again in 739. They still held +Narbonne. The danger was imminent. There was no +reason why they should not attempt a third invasion. Why +should they not spread along the shores of the Mediterranean, +establishing themselves there, as they were already doing in +Sicily, and menacing Rome from north as well as south? To +unite, therefore, the two great Catholic Teutonic powers, the +Frank and the Lombard, for the defence of Christendom, should +have been the policy of him who called himself the Chief Pontiff +in Christendom. Yet the Pope preferred, in the face of that +great danger, to set the Teutonic nations on destroying each +other, rather than to unite them against the Moslem.</p> +<p>The bribe offered to the Frank was significant—the title +of Roman Consul; beside which he was to have filings of St. +Peter’s chains, and the key of his tomb, to preserve him +body and soul from all evil.</p> +<p>Charles would not come. Frank though he was, he was too +honourable to march at a priest’s bidding against +Luitprand, his old brother in arms, to whom he had sent the boy +Pepin, his son, that Luitprand might take him on his knee, and +cut his long royal hair, and become his father-in-arms, after the +good old Teuton fashion; Luitprand, who with his Lombards had +helped him to save Christendom a second time from the Mussulman +in 737. The Pope, one would think, should have remembered +that good deed of the good Lombard’s whereof his epitaph +sings,</p> + +<blockquote><p> ‘Deinceps +tremuere feroces<br /> +Usque Saraceni, quos dispulit impiger, ipsos<br /> +Cum premerent Gallos, Karolo poscente juvari.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>So Charles Martel took the title of Patrician from the Pope, +but sent him no armies; and the quarrel went on; while Charles +filled up the measure of his iniquity by meddling with that +church-property in Gaul which his sword had saved from the hordes +of the Saracens; and is now, as St. Eucherius (or Bishop Hincmar) +saw in a vision, writhing therefore in the lowest abyss of +hell.</p> +<p>So one generation more passes by; and then Pepin le Bref, +grown to manhood, is less scrupulous than his father. He is +bound to the Pope by gratitude. The Pope has confirmed him +as king, allowing him to depose the royal house of the +Merovingians, and so assumed the right of making kings.—A +right which future popes will not forget.</p> +<p>Meanwhile the Pope has persuaded the Lombard king Rachis to go +into a monastery. Astulf seizes the crown, and attacks +Ravenna. The Pope succeeding, Stephen III., opposes him; +and he marches on Rome, threatening to assault it, unless the +citizens redeem their lives by a poll-tax.</p> +<p>Stephen determines to go himself to Pepin to ask for help: and +so awful has the name and person of a Pope become, that he is +allowed to do it; allowed to pass safely and unarmed through the +very land upon which he is going to let loose all the horrors of +invading warfare.</p> +<p>It is a strange, and instructive figure, that. The dread +of the unseen, the fear of spiritual power, has fallen on the +wild Teutons; on Frank and on Lombard alike. The Pope and +his clergy are to them magicians, against whom neither sword nor +lance avails; who can heal the sick and blast the sound; who can +call to their aid out of the clouds that pantheon of demi-gods, +with which, under the name of saints, they have peopled heaven; +who can let loose on them the legions of fiends who dwell in +every cave, every forest, every ruin, every cloud; who can, by +the sentence of excommunication, destroy both body and soul in +hell. They were very loth to fear God, these wild Teutons; +therefore they had instead, as all men have who will not fear +God, to fear the devil.</p> +<p>So Pope Stephen goes to Pepin, the eldest son of the +Church. He promises to come with all his Franks. +Stephen’s conscience seems to have been touched: he tries +to have no fighting, only negotiation: but it is too late +now. Astolf will hear of no terms; Pepin sweeps over the +Alps, and at the gates of Pavia dictates his own terms to the +Lombards. The old Lombard spirit seems to have past +away.</p> +<p>Pepin goes back again, and Astolf refuses to fulfil his +promises. The Pope sends Pepin that letter from St. Peter +himself with which this lecture commenced.</p> +<p>Astolf has marched down, as we heard, to the walls of Rome, +laying the land waste; cutting down the vines, carrying off +consecrated vessels, insulting the sacrament of the altar. +The Lombards have violated nuns; and tried to kill them, the Pope +says; though, if they had really tried, one cannot see why they +should not have succeeded. In fact, Pope Stephen’s +hysterical orations to Pepin must be received with extreme +caution. No Catholic historian of that age cares to examine +the truth of a fact which makes for him; nothing is too bad to +say of an enemy: and really the man who would forge a letter from +St. Peter might dare to tell a few lesser falsehoods into the +bargain. Pepin cannot but obey so august a summons; and +again he is in Italy, and the Lombards dare not resist him. +He seizes not only all that Astolf had taken from the Pope, but +the Pentapolis and Exarchate, the property, if of any one, of the +Greek Emperors, and bestows them on Stephen, the Pope, and +‘the holy Roman Republic.’</p> +<p>The pope’s commissioners received the keys of the towns, +which were placed upon the altar of St. Peter; and this, the +Dotation of Pepin, the Dotation of the Exarchate, was the first +legal temporal sovereignty of the Popes:—born in sin, and +conceived in iniquity, as you may see.</p> +<p>The Lombard rule now broke up rapidly. The Lombards of +Spoleto yielded to the double pressure of Franks and Romans, +asked to be ‘taken into the service of St. Peter,’ +and clipt their long German locks after the Roman fashion.</p> +<p>Charlemagne, in his final invasion, had little left to +do. He confirmed Pepin’s gift, and even, though he +hardly kept his promise, enlarged it to include the whole of +Italy, from Lombardy to the frontier of Naples, while he himself +became king of Lombardy, and won the iron crown.</p> +<p>And so by French armies—not for the last time—was +the Pope propt up on his ill-gotten throne.</p> +<p>But the mere support of French armies was not enough to seat +the Pope securely upon the throne of the western +Cæsars. Documentary evidence was required to prove +that they possessed Rome, not as the vassals of the Frankish +Kaisers, or of any barbarian Teutons whatsoever; but in their own +right, as hereditary sovereigns of Rome. And the documents, +when needed, were forthcoming. Under the name of St. +Isidore, some ready scribe produced the too-famous +‘Decretals,’ and the ‘Donation of +Constantine,’ and Pope Adrian I. saw no reason against +publishing them to Charlemagne and to the world.</p> +<p>It was discovered suddenly, by means of these remarkable +documents, that Constantine the Great had been healed of leprosy, +and afterwards baptized, by Pope Sylvester; that he had, in +gratitude for his cure, resigned to the Popes his western throne, +and the patrimony of St. Peter, and the sovereignty of Italy and +the West; and that this was the true reason of his having founded +Constantinople, as a new seat of government for the remnant of +his empire.</p> +<p>This astounding falsehood was, of course, accepted humbly by +the unlettered Teutons; and did its work well, for centuries to +come. It is said—I trust not truly—to be still +enrolled among the decrees of the Canon law, though reprobated by +all enlightened Roman Catholics. Be that as it may, on the +strength of this document the Popes began to assume an all but +despotic sovereignty over the western world, and—the +Teutonic peoples, and Rome’s conquest of her conquerors was +at last complete.</p> +<p>What then were the causes of the Papal hatred of a race who +were good and devout Catholics for the last 200 years of their +rule?</p> +<p>There were deep political reasons (in the strictest, and I am +afraid lowest sense of the word); but over and above them there +were evidently moral reasons, which lay even deeper still.</p> +<p>A free, plain-spoken, practical race like these Lombards; +living by their own laws; disbelieving in witchcraft; and +seemingly doing little for monasticism, were not likely to find +favour in the eyes of popes. They were not the material +which the Papacy could mould into the Neapolitan ideal of +‘Little saints,—and little asses.’ These +Lombards were not a superstitious race; they did not, like the +Franks and Anglo-Saxons, crowd into monasteries. I can only +find four instances of Lombard sovereigns founding monasteries in +all Paulus’ history. One of them, strangely enough, +is that of the very Astulf against whom the Pope fulminated so +loudly the letter from St. Peter which I read you.</p> +<p>Moreover, it must be said in all fairness—the Lombards +despised the Romans exceedingly. So did all the +Teutons. ‘We Lombards,’ says Bishop Luitprand, +‘Saxons, Franks, Lorrainers, Bavarians, Sueves, Burgunds, +consider it a sufficient insult to call our enemy a Roman; +comprehending in that one name of Roman, whatever is ignoble, +cowardly, avaricious, luxurious, false, in a word, every +vice.’ If this was—as it very probably +was—the feeling of the whole Teutonic race; and if it was +repaid—as it certainly was—on the part of the Roman, +by contempt for the ‘barbarism’ and +‘ignorance’ of the Teuton; what must have been the +feeling between Roman and Lombard? Contact must have +embittered mutual contempt into an utter and internecine hatred, +in which the Pope, as representative of the Roman people, could +not but share.</p> +<p>As for the political reasons, they are clear enough. It +is absurd to say that they wished to free Italy from Lombard +tyrants. What did they do but hand her over to Frankish +tyrants instead? No. The true reason was this. +Gradually there had arisen in the mind of all Popes, from Gregory +the Great onward, the idea of a spiritual supremacy, independent +of all kings of the earth. It was a great idea, as the +event proved: it was a beneficent one for Europe; but a ruinous +one for Italy. For the Popes were not content with +spiritual power. They could not conceive of it as separated +from temporal power, and temporal power meant land. How +early they set their hearts on the Exarchate of Ravenna, we shall +never know: the fact is patent, that it was a Naboth’s +vineyard to them; and that to obtain it they called in the +Franks.</p> +<p>Their dread was, evidently, lest the Lombards should become +masters of the whole of Italy. A united Italy suited their +views then, no more than it does now. Not only did they +conceive of Rome as still the centre of the western world, but +more, their stock in trade was at Rome. The chains of St. +Peter, the sepulchres of St. Peter and St. Paul, the catacombs +filled with the bones of innumerable martyrs;—these were +their stock in trade. By giving these, selling these, +working miracles with these, calling pilgrims from all parts of +Christendom to visit these in situ, they kept up their power and +their wealth. I do not accuse them of misusing that power +and that wealth in those days. They used them, on the +contrary, better than power and wealth had been ever used in the +world before. But they were dependent on the sanctity +attached to a particular spot; and any power, which, like the +Lombard, tended to give Italy another centre than Rome, they +dreaded and disliked. That Lombard basilica, near Milan, +with all its treasures, must have been in their eyes, a +formidable rival. Still more frightful must it have been to +them to see Astulf, when he encamped before the walls of Rome, +searching for martyrs’ relics, and carrying them off to +Milan. That, as a fact, seems to have been the exciting +cause of Stephen’s journey to Pepin. This Astulf was +a good Catholic. He founded a nunnery, and put his own +daughters in it. What could a man do more meritorious in +the eyes of the Pope? But he took away the lands of the +Church, and worse, the relics, the reserved capital by which the +Church purchased lands. This was indeed a crime only to be +expiated by the horrors of a Frank invasion.</p> +<p>On the same principle the Popes supported the Exarchs of +Ravenna, and the independent duchies of Spoleto and +Beneventum. Well or ill ruled, Iconoclast or not, they were +necessary to keep Italy divided and weak. And having +obtained what they wanted from Pepin and Charlemagne, it was +still their interest to pursue the same policy; to compound for +their own independence, as they did with Charlemagne and his +successors, by defending the pretences of foreign kings to the +sovereignty of the rest of Italy. This has been their +policy for centuries. It is their policy still; and that +policy has been the curse of Italy. This fatal gift of the +patrimony of St. Peter—as Dante saw—as Machiavelli +saw,—as all clear-sighted Italians have seen,—as we +are seeing it now in these very days—has kept her divided, +torn by civil wars, conquered and reconquered by foreign +invaders. Unable, as a celibate ecclesiastic, to form his +dominions into a strong hereditary kingdom; unable, as the +hierophant of a priestly caste, to unite his people in the bonds +of national life; unable, as Borgia tried to do, to conquer the +rest of Italy for himself; and form it into a kingdom large +enough to have weight in the balance of power; the Pope has been +forced, again and again, to keep himself on his throne by +intriguing with foreign princes, and calling in foreign arms; and +the bane of Italy, from the time of Stephen III. to that of Pius +IX., has been the temporal power of the Pope.</p> +<p>But on the popes, also, the Nemesis came. In building +their power on the Roman relics, on the fable that Rome was the +patrimony of Peter, they had built on a lie; and that lie avenged +itself.</p> +<p>Had they been independent of the locality of Rome; had they +been really spiritual emperors, by becoming cosmopolitan, +journeying, it may be, from nation to nation in regular +progresses, then their power might have been as boundless as they +ever desired it should be. Having committed themselves to +the false position of being petty kings of a petty kingdom, they +had to endure continual treachery and tyranny from their foreign +allies; to see not merely Italy, but Rome itself insulted, and +even sacked, by faithful Catholics; and to become more and more, +as the centuries rolled on, the tools of those very kings whom +they had wished to make their tools.</p> +<p>True, they defended themselves long, and with astonishing +skill and courage. Their sources of power were two, the +moral, and the thaumaturgic; and they used them both: but when +the former failed, the latter became useless. As long as +their moral power was real; as long as they and their clergy were +on the whole, in spite of enormous faults, the best men in +Europe; so long the people believed in them, and in their +thaumaturgic relics likewise. But they became by no means +the best men in Europe. Then they began to think that after +all it was more easy to work the material than the moral +power—easier to work the bones than to work +righteousness. They were deceived. Behold! when the +righteousness was gone, the bones refused to work. People +began to question the virtues of the bones, and to ask, We can +believe that the bones may have worked miracles for good men, but +for bad men? We will examine whether they work any miracles +at all. And then, behold, it came out that the bones did +not work miracles, and that possibly they were not saints’ +bones at all; and then the storm came: and the lie, as all lies +do, punished itself. The salt had lost its savour. +The Teutonic intellect appealed from its old masters to God, and +to God’s universe of facts, and emancipated itself once and +for all. They who had been the light of Europe, became its +darkness; they who had been first, became last; a warning to +mankind until the end of time, that on Truth and Virtue depends +the only abiding strength.</p> +<h2>LECTURE XII—THE STRATEGY OF PROVIDENCE</h2> +<p>I no not know whether any of you know much of the theory of +war. I know very little myself. But something of it +one is bound to know, as Professor of History. For, +unfortunately, a large portion of the history of mankind is the +history of war; and the historian, as a man who wants to know how +things were done—as distinct from the philosopher, the man +who wants to know how things ought to have been done—ought +to know a little of the first of human arts—the art of +killing. What little I know thereof I shall employ to-day, +in explaining to you the invasion of the Teutons, from a +so-called mechanical point of view. I wish to shew you how +it was possible for so small and uncivilized a people to conquer +one so vast and so civilized; and what circumstances (which you +may attribute to what cause you will: but I to God) enabled our +race to conquer in the most vast and important campaign the world +has ever seen.</p> +<p>I call it a campaign rather than a war. Though it lasted +200 years and more, it seems to me (it will, I think, seem to +you) if you look at the maps, as but one campaign: I had almost +said, one battle. There is but one problem to be solved; +and therefore the operations of our race take a sort of +unity. The question is, how to take Rome, and keep it, by +destroying the Roman Empire.</p> +<p>Let us consider the two combatants—their numbers, and +their position.</p> +<p>One glance at the map will shew you which are the most +numerous. When you cast your eye over the vastness of the +Roman Empire from east to west—Italy, Switzerland, half +Austria, Turkey and Greece, Asia Minor, Syria, Egypt, North +Africa, Spain, France, Britain—and then compare it with the +narrow German strip which reaches from the mouth of the Danube to +the mouth of the Rhine, the disparity of area is enormous; ten +times as great at least; perhaps more, if you accept, as I am +inclined to do, the theory of Dr. Latham, that we were always +‘Markmen,’ men of the Marches, occupying a narrow +frontier between the Slavs and the Roman Empire; and that Tacitus +has included among Germans, from hearsay, many tribes of the +interior of Bohemia, Prussia, and Poland, who were Slavs or +others; and that the numbers and area of our race has been, on +Tacitus’ authority, greatly overrated.</p> +<p>What then were the causes of the success of the Teutons? +Native courage and strength?</p> +<p>They had these: but you must recollect what I have told you, +that those very qualities were employed against them; that they +were hired, in large numbers, into the Roman armies, to fight +against their own brothers.</p> +<p>Unanimity? Of that, alas! one can say but little. +The great Teutonic army had not only to fight the Romans, but to +fight each brigade the brigade before it, to make them move on; +and the brigade behind it likewise, to prevent their marching +over them; while too often two brigades quarrelled like children, +and destroyed each other on the spot.</p> +<p>What, then, was the cause of their success? I think a +great deal of it must be attributed to their admirable military +position.</p> +<p>Look at a map of Europe; putting yourself first at the point +to be attacked—at Rome, and looking north, follow the +German frontier from the Euxine up the Danube and down the +Rhine. It is a convex arc: but not nearly as long as the +concave arc of the Roman frontier opposed to it. The Roman +frontier overlaps it to the north-west by all Britain, to the +south-west by part of Turkey and the whole of Asia Minor.</p> +<p>That would seem to make it weak, and liable to be outflanked +on either wing. In reality it made it strong.</p> +<p>Both the German wings rested on the sea; one on the Euxine, +one on the North Sea. That in itself would not have given +strength; for the Roman fleets were masters of the seas. +But the lands in the rear, on either flank, were deserts, +incapable of supporting an army. What would have been the +fate of a force landed at the mouth of the Weser on the north, or +at the mouth of the Dnieper at the west? Starvation among +wild moors, and bogs, and steppes, if they attempted to leave +their base of operations on the coast. The Romans saw this, +and never tried the plan. To defend the centre of their +position was the safest and easiest plan.</p> +<p>Look at this centre. It is complicated. The Roman +position is guarded by the walls of Italy, the gigantic earthwork +of the Alps. To storm them, is impossible. But right +and left of them, the German position has two remarkable +points—strategic points, which decided the fate of the +world.</p> +<p>They are two salient angles, promontories of the German +frontier. The one is north-east of Switzerland; the Allman +country, between the head-waters of the Danube and the Upper +Rhine, Basle is its apex. Mentz its northern point, +Ratisbon its southern. That triangle encloses the end of +the Schwartzwald; the Black Forest of primæval oak. +Those oaks have saved Europe.</p> +<p>The advantages of a salient angle of that kind, in invading an +enemy’s country, are manifest. You can break out on +either side, and return at once into your own country on +‘lines of interior operation;’ while the enemy has to +march round the angle, three feet for your one, on ‘lines +of exterior operation.’ The early German invaders saw +that, and burst again and again into Gaul from that angle. +The Romans saw it also (admirable strategists as they were) and +built Hadrian’s wall right across it, from the Maine to the +Danube, to keep them back. And why did not Hadrian’s +wall keep them back? On account of the Black Forest. +The Roman never dared to face it; to attempt to break our centre, +and to save Italy by carrying the war into the heart of +Germany. They knew (what the invaders of England will +discover to their cost) that a close woodland is a more +formidable barrier than the Alps themselves. The Black +Forest, I say, was the key of our position, and saved our +race.</p> +<p>From this salient angle, and along the whole Rhine above it, +the Western Teutons could throw their masses into Gaul; Franks, +Vandals, Alans, Suevi, following each other in +échellon. You know what an échellon +means? When bodies of troops move in lines parallel to each +other, but each somewhat in the rear of the other, so that their +whole position resembles an échelle—a flight of +steps. This mode of attack has two great advantages. +It cannot be outflanked by the enemy; and he dare not concentrate +his forces on the foremost division, and beat the divisions in +detail. If he tries to do so, he is out-flanked himself; +and he is liable to be beaten in detail by continually fresh +bodies of troops. Thus only a part of his line is engaged +at a time. Now it was en échellon, from necessity, +that the tribes moved down. They could not follow +immediately in each other’s track, because two armies +following each other would not have found subsistence in the same +country. They had to march in parallel lines; those nearest +to Italy moving first; and thus forming a vast échellon, +whose advanced left rested on, and was protected by, the +Alps.</p> +<p>But you must remember (and this is important) that all these +western attacks along the Rhine and Rhone were mistakes, in as +far as they were aimed at Rome. The Teutons were not aware, +I suppose, that the Alps turned to the South between Gaul and +Italy, and ran right down to the Mediterranean. There they +found themselves still cut off from Rome by them. +Hannibal’s pass over the Mont Cenis they seem not to have +known. They had to range down to the Mediterranean; turn +eastward along the Genoese coast at Nice; and then, far away from +their base of operations, were cut off again and again, just as +the Cimbri and Teutons were cut off by Marius. All attempts +to take Rome from the Piedmontese entrance into Italy +failed. But these western attacks had immense +effects. They cut the Roman position in two.</p> +<p>And then came out the real weakness of that great ill-gotten +Empire, conquered for conquering’s sake. To the +north-west, the Romans had extended their line far beyond what +they could defend. The whole of North Gaul was taken by the +Franks. Britain was then isolated, and had to be given up +to its fate. South Gaul, being nearer to Italy their base, +they could defend, and did, like splendid soldiers as they were; +but that defence only injured them. It thrust the foremost +columns of the enemy on into Spain. Spain was too far from +their base of operation to be defended, and was lost likewise, +and seized by Vandals and Suevi. The true point of attack +was at the other salient angle of our position, on the Roman +right centre.</p> +<p>You know that the Danube as you ascend it lies east and west +from the Black Sea to Belgrade; but above the point where the +Save enters it, it turns north almost at right angles. This +is the second salient point; the real key of the whole Roman +Empire. For from this point the Germans could +menace—equally, Constantinople and Turkey on the right (I +speak always as standing at Rome and looking north), and Italy +and Rome on the left. The Danube once crossed, between them +and Constantinople was nothing but the rich rolling land of +Turkey; between them and Rome nothing but the easy passes of the +Carnic Alps, Laybach to Trieste. Trieste was the key of the +Roman position. It was, and always will be, a most +important point. It might be the centre of a great +kingdom. The nation which has it ought to spend its last +bullet in defending it.</p> +<p>The Teutons did cross the Danube, as you know, in 376, and had +a great victory, of which nothing came but moral force. +They waited long in Moesia before they found out the important +step which they had made. The genius of Alaric first +discovered the key of the Roman position, and discovered that it +was in his own hands.</p> +<p>I do not say that no Germans had crossed the Laybach pass +before him. On the contrary, Markmen, Quadi, Vandals, seem +to have come over it as early as 180, and appeared under the +walls of Aquileia. Of course, some one must have gone +first, or Alaric would not have known of it. There were no +maps then, at least among our race. Their great generals +had to feel their way foot by foot, trusting to hearsays of old +adventurers, deserters, and what not, as to whether a fruitful +country or an impassable alp, a great city or the world’s +end, was twenty miles a-head of them. Yes, they had great +generals among them, and Alaric, perhaps, the greatest.</p> +<p>If you consider Alaric’s campaigns, from A.D. 400 to +A.D. 415, you will see that the eye of a genius planned +them. He wanted Rome, as all Teutons did. He was +close to Italy, in the angle of which I just spoke; but instead +of going hither, he resolved to go south, and destroy Greece, and +he did it. Thereby, if you will consider, he cut the Roman +Empire in two. He paralysed and destroyed the right wing of +its forces, which might, if he had marched straight for Italy, +have come up from Greece and Turkey, to take him in flank and +rear. He prevented their doing that; he prevented also +their succouring Italy by sea by the same destruction. And +then he was free to move on Rome, knowing that he leaves no +strong place on his left flank, save Constantinople itself; and +that the Ostrogoths, and other tribes left behind, would mask it +for him. Then he moved into Italy over the Carnic Alps, and +was repulsed the first time at Pollentia. He was not +disheartened; he retired upon Hungary, waited five years, tried +it again, and succeeded, after a campaign of two years.</p> +<p>Yes. He was a great general. To be able to move +vast masses of men safely through a hostile country and in face +of an enemy’s army (beside women and children) requires an +amount of talent bestowed on few. Alaric could do it. +Dietrich the Ostrogoth could do it. Alboin the Lombard +could do it, though not under such fearful disadvantages. +There were generals before Marlborough or Napoleon.</p> +<p>And do not fancy that the work was easy; that the Romans were +degenerate enough to be an easy prey. Alaric had been +certainly beaten out of Italy, even though the victory of +Pollentia was exaggerated. And in 405, Radagast with +200,000 men had tried to take Rome by Alaric’s route, and +had simply, from want of generalship, been forced to capitulate +under the walls of Florence, and the remnant of his army sold for +slaves.</p> +<p>Why was Alaric more fortunate? Because he was a great +genius. And why when he died, did the Goths lose all plan, +and wander wildly up Italy, and out into Spain? Because the +great genius was gone. Native Teuton courage could ensure +no permanent success against Roman discipline and strategy, +unless guided by men like Alaric or Dietrich.</p> +<p>You might fancy the campaign over now: but it was not. +Along the country of the Danube, from the Euxine to the Alps, the +Teutons had still the advantage of interior lines, and vast +bodies of men—Herules, Gepids, Ostrogoths, +Lombards—were coming down in an enormous échellon +similar to that which forced the Rhine; to force Italy at the +same fatal point—Venetia. The party who could command +the last reserve would win, as is the rule. And the last +reserves were with our race. They must win. But not +yet. They had, in the mean time, taken up a concave line; a +great arc running round the whole west of the Mediterranean from +Italy, France, Spain, Algeria, as far as Carthage. They +could not move forces round that length of coast, as fast as the +Romans could move them by sea; and they had no fleets. +Although they had conquered the Western Empire, they were in a +very dangerous position, and were about to be very nearly +ruined.</p> +<p>For you see, the Romans in turn had changed front at more than +a right angle. They lay at first north-west and +south-east. They lay in Justinian’s time, north and +south. Their right was Constantinople; their left +Pentapolis; between those two points they held Greece, Asia +Minor, Syria and Egypt; a position of wealth incalculable. +Meanwhile, as we must remember always, they were masters of the +sea, and therefore of the interior lines of operation. They +had been forced into this position; but, like Romans, they had +accepted it. With the boundless common sense of the race +(however fallen, debauched, pedantic), they worked it out, and +with terrible effect.</p> +<p>Their right in Constantinople was so strong that they cared +nothing for it, though it was the only exposed point. They +would defend it by hiring the Barbarians, and when they could not +pay them, setting them on to kill down each other; while they +quietly drew into Constantinople the boundless crops of Asia, +Syria and Egypt.</p> +<p>The strength of Constantinople was infinite—commanding +two seas and two continents. It is, as the genius of +Constantinople saw—as the genius of the Czar Nicholas +saw—the strongest spot, perhaps, in the world. That +fact was what enabled Justinian’s Empire to arise again, +and enabled Belisarius and Narses to reconquer Africa and +Italy. Remember that, and see how strong the Romans were +still.</p> +<p>The Teutons meanwhile had changed their front, by conquering +the Western Mediterranean, and were becoming weak, because +scattered on exterior lines, to their extreme danger.</p> +<p>I cannot exaggerate the danger of that position. It +enabled the Romans by rapid movements of their fleets, to +reconquer Africa and Italy. It might have enabled them to +do much more.</p> +<p>Belisarius, with great wisdom, began by attacking the Vandals +at Carthage on the extreme right. They had put themselves +into an isolated position, and were destroyed without help. +Then he moved on Italy and the Ostrogoths. He was going to +force the positions in detail, and drive them back behind the +Alps. What he did not finish, Narses did; and the Teutons +were actually driven back behind the Alps for some years.</p> +<p>But Narses had to stop at Italy. Even if not recalled, +he could have gone no further. The next move should have +been on Spain, if he had really had strength in Italy. But +to attack Spain from Constantinople, would have been to go too +far from home. The Franks would have crost the Pyrenees, +and fallen on his flank. The Visigoths, even if beaten, +would have been only pushed across the Straits of Gibraltar, to +reconquer the Vandal coast of Africa; while to take troops from +Italy for any such purpose, would have been to let in the +Lombards—who came, let in or not. There were reserves +in Germany still, of which Narses knew full well; for he had seen +5000 Lombards, besides Herules, and Huns, and Avars, fight for +him at Nuceria, and destroy the Ostrogoths; and he knew well that +they could, if they chose, fight against him.</p> +<p>On the other hand, the Roman Empire had no reserves; while the +campaign had just come to that point at which he who can bring up +the last reserve wins. Ours were so far from being +exhausted, that the heaviest of them, the Franks, came into +action, stronger than ever, 200 years after.</p> +<p>But the Roman reserves were gone. If Greece, if Asia +Minor, if Egypt, had been the holds of a hardy people, the Romans +might have done still—Heaven alone knows what. At +least, they might have extended their front once more to the line +of Carthage, Sicily, Italy.</p> +<p>But the people of Syria and Egypt, were—what they +were. No recruits, as far as I know, were drawn from +them. Had they been, they would have been face to face with +a Frank, or a Lombard, or a Visigoth, much what—not a Sikh, +a Rohilla, or a Ghoorka, but a Bengalee proper—would be +face to face with an Englishman. One thousand Varangers +might have walked from Constantinople to Alexandria without +fighting a pitched battle, if they had had only Greeks and +Syrians to face.</p> +<p>Thus the Romans were growing weak. If we had lost, so +had they. Every wild Teuton who came down to perish, had +destroyed a Roman, or more than one, before he died. Each +column which the admirable skill and courage of the Romans had +destroyed, had weakened them as much, perhaps more, than its +destruction weakened the Teutons; and had, by harrying the +country, destroyed the Roman’s power of obtaining +supplies. Italy and Turkey at last became too poor to be a +fighting ground at all.</p> +<p>But now comes in one of the strangest new elements in this +strange epic—Mohammed and his Arabs.</p> +<p>Suddenly, these Arab tribes, under the excitement of the new +Mussulman creed, burst forth of the unknown East. They take +the Eastern Empire in the rear; by such a rear attack as the +world never saw before or since; they cut it in two; devour it +up: and save Europe thereby.</p> +<p>That may seem a strange speech. I must explain it. +I have told you how the Eastern Empire and its military position +was immensely strong; that Constantinople was a great maritime +base of operations, mistress of the Mediterranean. What +prevented the Romans from reconquering all the shores of that +sea, and establishing themselves in strength in the Morea, or in +Sicily, or in Carthage, or in any central base of +operations? What forced them to cling to Constantinople, +and fight a losing campaign thenceforth. Simply this; the +Mussulman had forced their position from the rear, and deprived +them of Syria, Egypt, Africa.</p> +<p>But the Teutons could not have opposed them. During the +7th century the Lombards in Italy were lazy and divided; the +Goths in Spain lazier and more divided still; the Franks were +tearing themselves in pieces by civil war. The years from +A.D. 550 to A.D. 750 and the rise of the Carlovingian dynasty, +were a period of exhaustion for our race, such as follows on +great victories, and the consequent slaughter and collapse.</p> +<p>This was the critical period of the Teutonic race; little +talked of, because little known: but very perilous. +Nevertheless, whatever the Eastern Empire might have done, the +Saracens prevented its doing; and if you hold (with me) that the +welfare of the Teutonic race is the welfare of the world; then, +meaning nothing less, the Saracen invasion, by crippling the +Eastern Empire, saved Europe and our race.</p> +<p>And now, gentlemen, was this vast campaign fought without a +general? If Trafalgar could not be won without the mind of +a Nelson, or Waterloo without the mind of a Wellington, was there +no one mind to lead those innumerable armies, on whose success +depended the future of the whole human race? Did no one +marshal them in that impregnable convex front, from the Euxine to +the North Sea? No one guide them to the two great strategic +centres, of the Black Forest and Trieste? No one cause +them, blind barbarians without maps or science, to follow those +rules of war, without which victory in a protracted struggle is +impossible; and by the pressure of the Huns behind, force on +their flagging myriads to an enterprise which their simplicity +fancied at first beyond the powers of mortal men? Believe +it who will: but I cannot. I may be told that they +gravitated into their places, as stones and mud do. Be it +so. They obeyed natural laws of course, as all things do on +earth, when they obeyed the laws of war: those too are natural +laws, explicable on simple mathematical principles. But +while I believe that not a stone or a handful of mud gravitates +into its place without the will of God; that it was ordained, +ages since, into what particular spot each grain of gold should +be washed down from an Australian quartz reef, that a certain man +might find it at a certain moment and crisis of his +life;—if I be superstitious enough (as thank God I am) to +hold that creed, shall I not believe that though this great war +had no general upon earth, it may have had a general in Heaven? +and that in spite of all their sins, the hosts of our forefathers +were the hosts of God?</p> +<h2>APPENDIX: THE LIMITS OF EXACT SCIENCE AS APPLIED TO +HISTORY.</h2> +<p>It is with a feeling of awe, I had almost said of fear, that I +find myself in this place, upon this errand. The +responsibility of a teacher of History in Cambridge is in itself +very heavy: but doubly heavy in the case of one who sees among +his audience many men as fit, it may be some more fit, to fill +this Chair: and again, more heavy still, when one succeeds to a +man whose learning, like his virtues, one can never hope to +equal.</p> +<p>But a Professor, I trust, is like other men, capable of +improvement; and the great law, ‘docendo disces,’ may +be fulfilled in him, as in other men. Meanwhile, I can only +promise that such small powers as I possess will be honestly +devoted to this Professorate; and that I shall endeavour to teach +Modern History after a method which shall give satisfaction to +the Rulers of this University.</p> +<p>I shall do that best, I believe, by keeping in mind the +lessons which I, in common with thousands more, have learnt from +my wise and good predecessor. I do not mean merely patience +in research, and accuracy in fact. They are required of all +men: and they may be learnt from many men. But what Sir +James Stephen’s life and writings should especially teach +us, is the beauty and the value of charity; of that large-hearted +humanity, which sympathizes with all noble, generous, earnest +thought and endeavour, in whatsoever shape they may have +appeared; a charity which, without weakly or lazily confounding +the eternal laws of right and wrong, can make allowances for +human frailty; can separate the good from the evil in men and in +theories; can understand, and can forgive, because it +loves. Who can read Sir James Stephen’s works without +feeling more kindly toward many a man, and many a form of +thought, against which he has been more or less prejudiced; +without a more genial view of human nature, a more hopeful view +of human destiny, a more full belief in the great saying, that +‘Wisdom is justified of all her children’? Who, +too, can read those works without seeing how charity enlightens +the intellect, just as bigotry darkens it; how events, which to +the theorist and the pedant are merely monstrous and unmeaning, +may explain themselves easily enough to the man who will put +himself in his fellow-creatures’ place; who will give them +credit for being men of like passions with himself; who will see +with their eyes, feel with their hearts, and take for his motto, +‘Homo sum, nil humani a me alienum puto’?</p> +<p>I entreat gentlemen who may hereafter attend my lectures to +bear in mind this last saying. If they wish to understand +History, they must first try to understand men and women. +For History is the history of men and women, and of nothing else; +and he who knows men and women thoroughly will best understand +the past work of the world, and be best able to carry on its work +now. The men who, in the long run, have governed the world, +have been those who understood the human heart; and therefore it +is to this day the statesman who keeps the reins in his hand, and +not the mere student. He is a man of the world; he knows +how to manage his fellow-men; and therefore he can get work done +which the mere student (it may be) has taught him ought to be +done; but which the mere student, much less the mere trader or +economist, could not get done; simply because his fellow-men +would probably not listen to him, and certainly outwit him. +Of course, in proportion to the depth, width, soundness, of his +conception of human nature, will be the greatness and +wholesomeness of his power. He may appeal to the meanest, +or to the loftiest motives. He may be a fox or an eagle; a +Borgia, or a Hildebrand; a Talleyrand, or a Napoleon; a Mary +Stuart, or an Elizabeth: but however base, however noble, the +power which he exercises is the same in essence. He makes +History, because he understands men. And you, if you would +understand History, must understand men.</p> +<p>If, therefore, any of you should ask me how to study history, +I should answer—Take by all means biographies: wheresoever +possible, autobiographies; and study them. Fill your minds +with live human figures; men of like passions with yourselves; +see how each lived and worked in the time and place in which God +put him. Believe me, that when you have thus made a friend +of the dead, and brought him to life again, and let him teach you +to see with his eyes, and feel with his heart, you will begin to +understand more of his generation and his circumstances, than all +the mere history-books of the period would teach you. In +proportion as you understand the man, and only so, will you begin +to understand the elements in which he worked. And not only +to understand, but to remember. Names, dates, genealogies, +geographical details, costumes, fashions, manners, crabbed scraps +of old law, which you used, perhaps, to read up and forget again, +because they were not rooted, but stuck into your brain, as pins +are into a pincushion, to fall out at the first shake—all +these you will remember; because they will arrange and organize +themselves around the central human figure: just as, if you have +studied a portrait by some great artist, you cannot think of the +face in it, without recollecting also the light and shadow, the +tone of colouring, the dress, the very details of the background, +and all the accessories which the painter’s art has grouped +around; each with a purpose, and therefore each fixing itself +duly in your mind. Who, for instance, has not found that he +can learn more French history from French memoirs, than even from +all the truly learned and admirable histories of France which +have been written of late years? There are those, too, who +will say of good old Plutarch’s lives (now-a-days, I think, +too much neglected), what some great man used to say of +Shakspeare and English history—that all the ancient history +which they really knew, they had got from Plutarch. I am +free to confess that I have learnt what little I know of the +middle-ages, what they were like, how they came to be what they +were, and how they issued in the Reformation, not so much from +the study of the books about them (many and wise though they +are), as from the thumbing over, for years, the semi-mythical +saints’ lives of Surius and the Bollandists.</p> +<p>Without doubt History obeys, and always has obeyed, in the +long run, certain laws. But those laws assert themselves, +and are to be discovered, not in things, but in persons; in the +actions of human beings; and just in proportion as we understand +human beings, shall we understand the laws which they have +obeyed, or which have avenged themselves on their +disobedience. This may seem a truism: if it be such, it is +one which we cannot too often repeat to ourselves just now, when +the rapid progress of science is tempting us to look at human +beings rather as things than as persons, and at abstractions +(under the name of laws) rather as persons than as things. +Discovering, to our just delight, order and law all around us, in +a thousand events which seemed to our fathers fortuitous and +arbitrary, we are dazzled just now by the magnificent prospect +opening before us, and fall, too often, into more than one +serious mistake.</p> +<p>First; students try to explain too often all the facts which +they meet by the very few laws which they know; and especially +moral phænomena by physical, or at least economic +laws. There is an excuse for this last error. Much +which was thought, a few centuries since, to belong to the +spiritual world, is now found to belong to the material; and the +physician is consulted, where the exorcist used to be called +in. But it is a somewhat hasty corollary therefrom, and one +not likely to find favour in this University, that moral laws and +spiritual agencies have nothing at all to do with the history of +the human race. We shall not be inclined here, I trust, to +explain (as some one tried to do lately) the Crusades by a +hypothesis of over-stocked labour-markets on the Continent.</p> +<p>Neither, again, shall we be inclined to class those same +Crusades among ‘popular delusions,’ and mere +outbursts of folly and madness. This is a very easy, and I +am sorry to say, a very common method of disposing of facts which +will not fit into the theory, too common of late, that need and +greed have been always, and always ought to be, the chief motives +of mankind. Need and greed, heaven knows, are powerful +enough: but I think that he who has something nobler in himself +than need and greed, will have eyes to discern something nobler +than them, in the most fantastic superstitions, in the most +ferocious outbursts, of the most untutored masses. Thank +God, that those who preach the opposite doctrine belie it so +often by a happy inconsistency; that he who declares +self-interest to be the mainspring of the world, can live a life +of virtuous self-sacrifice; that he who denies, with Spinoza, the +existence of free-will, can disprove his own theory, by willing, +like Spinoza, amid all the temptations of the world, to live a +life worthy of a Roman Stoic; and that he who represents men as +the puppets of material circumstance, and who therefore has no +logical right either to praise virtue, or to blame vice, can +shew, by a healthy admiration of the former, a healthy scorn of +the latter, how little his heart has been corrupted by the eidola +specus, the phantoms of the study, which have oppressed his +brain. But though men are often, thank heaven, better than +their doctrines, yet the goodness of the man does not make his +doctrine good; and it is immoral as well as unphilosophical to +call a thing hard names simply because it cannot be fitted into +our theory of the universe. Immoral, because all harsh and +hasty wholesale judgments are immoral; unphilosophical, because +the only philosophical method of looking at the strangest of +phænomena is to believe that it too is the result of law, +perhaps a healthy result; that it is not to be condemned as a +product of disease before it is proven to be such; and that if it +be a product of disease, disease has its laws, as much as health; +and is a subject, not for cursing, but for induction; so that (to +return to my example) if every man who ever took part in the +Crusades were proved to have been simply mad, our sole business +would be to discover why he went mad upon that special matter, +and at that special time. And to do that, we must begin by +recollecting that in every man who went forth to the Crusades, or +to any other strange adventure of humanity, was a whole human +heart and brain, of like strength and weakness, like hopes, like +temptations, with our own; and find out what may have driven him +mad, by considering what would have driven us mad in his +place.</p> +<p>May I be permitted to enlarge somewhat on this topic? +There is, as you are aware, a demand just now for philosophies of +History. The general spread of Inductive Science has +awakened this appetite; the admirable contemporary French +historians have quickened it by feeding it; till, the more order +and sequence we find in the facts of the past, the more we wish +to find. So it should be (or why was man created a rational +being?) and so it is; and the requirements of the more educated +are becoming so peremptory, that many thinking men would be ready +to say (I should be sorry to endorse their opinion), that if +History is not studied according to exact scientific method, it +need not be studied at all.</p> +<p>A very able anonymous writer has lately expressed this general +tendency of modern thought in language so clear and forcible that +I must beg leave to quote it:—</p> +<p>‘Step by step,’ he says, ‘the notion of +evolution by law is transforming the whole field of our knowledge +and opinion. It is not one order of conception which comes +under its influence: but it is the whole sphere of our ideas, and +with them the whole system of our action and conduct. Not +the physical world alone is now the domain of inductive science, +but the moral, the intellectual, and the spiritual are being +added to its empire. Two co-ordinate ideas pervade the +vision of every thinker, physicist or moralist, philosopher or +priest. In the physical and the moral world, in the natural +and the human, are ever seen two forces—invariable rule, +and continual advance; law and action; order and progress; these +two powers working harmoniously together, and the result, +inevitable sequence, orderly movement, irresistible growth. +In the physical world indeed, order is most prominent to our +eyes; in the moral world it is progress, but both exist as truly +in the one as in the other. In the scale of nature, as we +rise from the inorganic to the organic, the idea of change +becomes even more distinct; just as when we rise through the +gradations of the moral world, the idea of order becomes more +difficult to grasp. It was the last task of the astronomer +to show eternal change even in the grand order of our Solar +System. It is the crown of philosophy to see immutable law +even in the complex action of human life. In the latter, +indeed, it is but the first germs which are clear. No +rational thinker hopes to discover more than some few primary +actions of law, and some approximative theory of growth. +Much is dark and contradictory. Numerous theories differing +in method and degree are offered; nor do we decide between +them. We insist now only upon this, that the principle of +development in the moral, as in the physical, has been definitely +admitted; and something like a conception of one grand analogy +through the whole sphere of knowledge, has almost become a part +of popular opinion. Most men shrink from any broad +statement of the principle, though all in some special instances +adopt it. It surrounds every idea of our life, and is +diffused in every branch of study. The press, the platform, +the lecture-room, and the pulpit ring with it in every variety of +form. Unconscious pedants are proving it. It flashes +on the statistician through his registers; it guides the hand of +simple philanthropy; it is obeyed by the instinct of the +statesman. There is not an act of our public life which +does not acknowledge it. No man denies that there are +certain, and even practical laws of political economy. They +are nothing but laws of society. The conferences of social +reformers, the congresses for international statistics and for +social science bear witness of its force. Everywhere we +hear of the development of the constitution, of public law, of +public opinion, of institutions, of forms of society, of theories +of history. In a word, whatever views of history may be +inculcated on the Universities by novelists or epigrammatists, it +is certain that the best intellects and spirits of our day are +labouring to see more of that invariable order, and of that +principle of growth in the life of human societies and of the +great society of mankind which nearly all men, more or less, +acknowledge, and partially and unconsciously confirm.’</p> +<p>This passage expresses admirably, I think, the tendencies of +modern thought for good and evil.</p> +<p>For good. For surely it is good, and a thing to thank +God for, that men should be more and more expecting order, +searching for order, welcoming order. But for evil +also. For young sciences, like young men, have their time +of wonder, hope, imagination, and of passion too, and haste, and +bigotry. Dazzled, and that pardonably, by the beauty of the +few laws they may have discovered, they are too apt to erect them +into gods, and to explain by them all matters in heaven and +earth; and apt, too, as I think this author does, to patch them +where they are weakest, by that most dangerous succedaneum of +vague and grand epithets, which very often contain, each of them, +an assumption far more important than the law to which they are +tacked.</p> +<p>Such surely are the words which so often occur in this +passage—‘Invariable, continual, immutable, +inevitable, irresistible.’ There is an ambiguity in +these words, which may lead—which I believe does +lead—to most unphilosophical conclusions. They are +used very much as synonyms; not merely in this passage, but in +the mouths of men. Are you aware that those who carelessly +do so, blink the whole of the world-old arguments between +necessity and free-will? Whatever may be the rights of that +quarrel, they are certainly not to be assumed in a passing +epithet. But what else does the writer do, who tells us +that an inevitable sequence, an irresistible growth, exists in +the moral as well as in the physical world; and then says, as a +seemingly identical statement, that it is the crown of philosophy +to see immutable law, even in the complex action of human +life?</p> +<p>The crown of philosophy? Doubtless it is so. But +not a crown, I should have thought, which has been reserved as +the special glory of these latter days. Very early, at +least in the known history of mankind, did Philosophy (under the +humble names of Religion and Common Sense) see most immutable, +and even eternal, laws, in the complex action of human life, even +the laws of right and wrong; and called them The Everlasting +Judgments of God, to which a confused and hard-worked man was to +look; and take comfort, for all would be well at last. By +fair induction (as I believe) did man discover, more or less +clearly, those eternal laws: by repeated verifications of them in +every age, man has been rising, and will yet rise, to clearer +insight into their essence, their limits, their practical +results. And if it be these, the old laws of right and +wrong, which this author and his school call invariable and +immutable, we shall, I trust, most heartily agree with them; only +wondering why a moral government of the world seems to them so +very recent a discovery.</p> +<p>But we shall not agree with them, I trust, when they represent +these invariable and immutable laws as resulting in any +inevitable sequence, or irresistible growth. We shall not +deny a sequence—Reason forbids that; or again, a +growth—Experience forbids that: but we shall be puzzled to +see why a law, because it is immutable itself, should produce +inevitable results; and if they quote the facts of material +nature against us, we shall be ready to meet them on that very +ground, and ask:—You say that as the laws of matter are +inevitable, so probably are the laws of human life? Be it +so: but in what sense are the laws of matter inevitable? +Potentially, or actually? Even in the seemingly most +uniform and universal law, where do we find the inevitable or the +irresistible? Is there not in nature a perpetual +competition of law against law, force against force, producing +the most endless and unexpected variety of results? Cannot +each law be interfered with at any moment by some other law, so +that the first law, though it may struggle for the mastery, shall +be for an indefinite time utterly defeated? The law of +gravity is immutable enough: but do all stones inevitably fall to +the ground? Certainly not, if I choose to catch one, and +keep it in my hand. It remains there by laws; and the law +of gravity is there too, making it feel heavy in my hand: but it +has not fallen to the ground, and will not, till I let it. +So much for the inevitable action of the laws of gravity, as of +others. Potentially, it is immutable; but actually it can +be conquered by other laws.</p> +<p>I really beg your pardon for occupying you here with such +truisms: but I must put the students of this University in mind +of them, as long as too many modern thinkers shall choose to +ignore them.</p> +<p>Even if then, as it seems to me, the history of mankind +depended merely on physical laws, analogous to those which govern +the rest of nature, it would be a hopeless task for us to +discover an inevitable sequence in History, even though we might +suppose that such existed. But as long as man has the +mysterious power of breaking the laws of his own being, such a +sequence not only cannot be discovered, but it cannot +exist. For man can break the laws of his own being, whether +physical, intellectual, or moral. He breaks them every day, +and has always been breaking them.</p> +<p>The greater number of them he cannot obey till he knows +them. And too many of them he cannot know, alas, till he +has broken them; and paid the penalty of his ignorance. He +does not, like the brute or the vegetable, thrive by laws of +which he is not conscious: but by laws of which he becomes +gradually conscious; and which he can disobey after all. +And therefore it seems to me very like a juggle of words to draw +analogies from the physical and irrational world, and apply them +to the moral and rational world; and most unwise to bridge over +the gulf between the two by such adjectives as +‘irresistible’ or ‘inevitable,’ such +nouns as ‘order, sequence, law’—which must bear +an utterly different meaning, according as they are applied to +physical beings or to moral ones.</p> +<p>Indeed, so patent is the ambiguity, that I cannot fancy that +it has escaped the author and his school; and am driven, by mere +respect for their logical powers, to suppose that they mean no +ambiguity at all; that they do not conceive of irrational beings +as differing from rational beings, or the physical from the +moral, or the body of man from his spirit, in kind and property; +and that the immutable laws which they represent as governing +human life and history have nothing at all to do with those laws +of right and wrong, which I intend to set forth to you, as the +‘everlasting judgments of God.’</p> +<p>In which case, I fear, they must go their way; while we go +ours; confessing that there is an order, and there is a law, for +man; and that if he disturb that order, or break that law in +anywise, they will prove themselves too strong for him, and +reassert themselves, and go forward, grinding him to powder if he +stubbornly try to stop their way. But we must assert too, +that his disobedience to them, even for a moment, has disturbed +the natural course of events, and broken that inevitable +sequence, which we may find indeed, in our own imaginations, as +long as we sit with a book in our studies: but which vanishes the +moment that we step outside into practical contact with life; +and, instead of talking cheerfully of a necessary and orderly +progress, find ourselves more inclined to cry with the cynical +man of the world:</p> +<blockquote><p>‘All the windy ways of men,<br /> + Are but dust that rises up;<br /> +And is lightly laid again.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The usual rejoinder to this argument is to fall back upon +man’s weakness and ignorance, and to take refuge in the +infinite unknown. Man, it is said, may of course interfere +a little with some of the less important laws of his being: but +who is he, to grapple with the more vast and remote ones? +Because he can prevent a pebble from falling, is he to suppose +that he can alter the destiny of nations, and grapple forsooth +with ‘the eternities and the immensities,’ and so +forth? The argument is very powerful: but addrest rather to +the imagination than the reason. It is, after all, another +form of the old omne ignotum pro magnifico; and we may answer, I +think fairly—About the eternities and immensities we know +nothing, not having been there as yet; but it is a mere +assumption to suppose, without proof, that the more remote and +impalpable laws are more vast, in the sense of being more +powerful (the only sense which really bears upon the argument), +than the laws which are palpably at work around us all day long; +and if we are capable of interfering with almost every law of +human life which we know of already, it is more philosophical to +believe (till disproved by actual failure) that we can interfere +with those laws of our life which we may know hereafter. +Whether it will pay us to interfere with them, is a different +question. It is not prudent to interfere with the laws of +health, and it may not be with other laws, hereafter to be +discovered. I am only pleading that man can disobey the +laws of his being; that such power has always been a disturbing +force in the progress of the human race, which modern theories +too hastily overlook; and that the science of history (unless the +existence of the human will be denied) must belong rather to the +moral sciences, than to that ‘positive science’ which +seems to me inclined to reduce all human phænomena under +physical laws, hastily assumed, by the old fallacy of +εις αλλο +yένος, to apply where there is no proof +whatsoever that they do or even can apply.</p> +<p>As for the question of the existence of the human will—I +am not here, I hope, to argue that. I shall only beg leave +to assume its existence, for practical purposes. I may be +told (though I trust not in this University), that it is, like +the undulatory theory of light, an unphilosophical +‘hypothesis.’ Be that as it may, it is very +convenient (and may be for a few centuries to come) to retain the +said ‘hypothesis,’ as one retains the undulatory +theory; and for the simple reason, that with it one can explain +the phænomena tolerably; and without it cannot explain them +at all.</p> +<p>A dread (half-unconscious, it may be) of this last practical +result, seems to have crossed the mind of the author on whom I +have been commenting; for he confesses, honestly enough (and he +writes throughout like an honest man) that in human life +‘no rational thinker hopes to discover more than some few +primary actions of law, and some approximative theory of +growth.’ I have higher hopes of a possible science of +history; because I fall back on those old moral laws, which I +think he wishes to ignore: but I can conceive that he will not; +because he cannot, on his own definitions of law and +growth. They are (if I understand him aright) to be +irresistible and inevitable. I say that they are not so, +even in the case of trees and stones; much more in the world of +man. Facts, when he goes on to verify his theories, will +leave him with a very few primary actions of law, a very faint +approximative theory; because his theories, in plain English, +will not work. At the first step, at every step, they are +stopped short by those disturbing forces, or at least disturbed +phænomena, which have been as yet, and probably will be +hereafter, attributed (as the only explanation of them) to the +existence, for good and evil, of a human will.</p> +<p>Let us look in detail at a few of these disturbances of +anything like inevitable or irresistible movement. Shall we +not, at the very first glance, confess—I am afraid only too +soon—that there always have been fools therein; fools of +whom no man could guess, or can yet, what they were going to do +next or why they were going to do it? And how, pray, can we +talk of the inevitable, in the face of that one miserable fact of +human folly, whether of ignorance or of passion, folly +still? There may be laws of folly, as there are laws of +disease; and whether there are or not, we may learn much wisdom +from folly; we may see what the true laws of humanity are, by +seeing the penalties which come from breaking them: but as for +laws which work of themselves, by an irresistible +movement,—how can we discover such in a past in which every +law which we know has been outraged again and again? Take +one of the highest instances—the progress of the human +intellect—I do not mean just now the spread of conscious +science, but of that unconscious science which we call common +sense. What hope have we of laying down exact laws for its +growth, in a world wherein it has been ignored, insulted, +crushed, a thousand times, sometimes in whole nations and for +whole generations, by the stupidity, tyranny, greed, caprice of a +single ruler; or if not so, yet by the mere superstition, +laziness, sensuality, anarchy of the mob? How, again, are +we to arrive at any exact laws of the increase of population, in +a race which has had, from the beginning, the abnormal and truly +monstrous habit of slaughtering each other, not for +food—for in a race of normal cannibals, the ratio of +increase or decrease might easily be calculated—but +uselessly, from rage, hate, fanaticism, or even mere +wantonness? No man is less inclined than I to undervalue +vital statistics, and their already admirable results: but how +can they help us, and how can we help them, in looking at such a +past as that of three-fourths of the nations of the world? +Look—as a single instance among too many—at that most +noble nation of Germany, swept and stunned, by peasant wars, +thirty years’ wars, French wars, and after each hurricane, +blossoming up again into brave industry and brave thought, to be +in its turn cut off by a fresh storm ere it could bear full +fruit: doing nevertheless such work, against such fearful +disadvantages, as nation never did before; and proving thereby +what she might have done for humanity, had not she, the mother of +all European life, been devoured, generation after generation, by +her own unnatural children. Nevertheless, she is their +mother still; and her history, as I believe, the root-history of +Europe: but it is hard to read—the sibylline leaves are so +fantastically torn, the characters so blotted out by tears and +blood.</p> +<p>And if such be the history of not one nation only, but of the +average, how, I ask, are we to make calculations about such a +species as man? Many modern men of science wish to draw the +normal laws of human life from the average of humanity: I +question whether they can do so; because I do not believe the +average man to be the normal man, exhibiting the normal laws: but +a very abnormal man, diseased and crippled, but even if their +method were correct, it could work in practice, only if the +destinies of men were always decided by majorities: and granting +that the majority of men have common sense, are the minority of +fools to count for nothing? Are they powerless? Have +they had no influence on History? Have they even been +always a minority, and not at times a terrible majority, doing +each that which was right in the sight of his own eyes? You +can surely answer that question for yourselves. As far as +my small knowledge of History goes, I think it may be proved from +facts, that any given people, down to the lowest savages, has, at +any period of its life, known far more than it has done; known +quite enough to have enabled it to have got on comfortably, +thriven, and developed; if it had only done, what no man does, +all that it knew it ought to do, and could do. St. +Paul’s experience of himself is true of all +mankind—‘The good which I would, I do not; and the +evil which I would not, that I do.’ The discrepancy +between the amount of knowledge and the amount of work, is one of +the most patent and most painful facts which strikes us in the +history of man; and one not certainly to be explained on any +theory of man’s progress being the effect of inevitable +laws, or one which gives us much hope of ascertaining fixed laws +for that progress.</p> +<p>And bear in mind, that fools are not always merely imbecile +and obstructive; they are at times ferocious, dangerous, +mad. There is in human nature what Goethe used to call a +demoniac element, defying all law, and all induction; and we can, +I fear, from that one cause, as easily calculate the progress of +the human race, as we can calculate that of the vines upon the +slopes of Ætna, with the lava ready to boil up and +overwhelm them at any and every moment. Let us learn, in +God’s name, all we can, from the short intervals of average +peace and common sense: let us, or rather our grandchildren, get +precious lessons from them for the next period of sanity. +But let us not be surprised, much less disheartened, if after +learning a very little, some unexpected and truly demoniac +factor, Anabaptist war, French revolution, or other, should toss +all our calculations to the winds, and set us to begin afresh, +sadder and wiser men. We may learn, doubtless, even more of +the real facts of human nature, the real laws of human history, +from these critical periods, when the root-fibres of the human +heart are laid bare, for good and evil, than from any smooth and +respectable periods of peace and plenty: nevertheless their +lessons are not statistical, but moral.</p> +<p>But if human folly has been a disturbing force for evil, +surely human reason has been a disturbing force for good. +Man can not only disobey the laws of his being, he can also +choose between them, to an extent which science widens every day, +and so become, what he was meant to be, an artificial being; +artificial in his manufactures, habits, society, +polity—what not? All day long he has a free choice +between even physical laws, which mere things have not, and which +make the laws of mere things inapplicable to him. Take the +simplest case. If he falls into the water, he has his +choice whether he will obey the laws of gravity and sink, or by +other laws perform the (to him) artificial process of swimming, +and get ashore. True, both would happen by law: but he has +his choice which law shall conquer, sink or swim. We have +yet to learn why whole nations, why all mankind may not use the +same prudential power as to which law they shall +obey,—which, without breaking it, they shall conquer and +repress, as long as seems good to them.</p> +<p>It is true, nature must be obeyed in order that she may he +conquered: but then she is to be <span +class="smcap">conquered</span>. It has been too much the +fashion of late to travestie that great dictum of Bacon’s +into a very different one, and say, Nature must be obeyed because +she cannot be conquered; thus proclaiming the impotence of +science to discover anything save her own impotence—a +result as contrary to fact, as to Bacon’s own hopes of what +science would do for the welfare of the human race. For +what is all human invention, but the transcending and conquering +one natural law by another? What is the practical answer +which all mankind has been making to nature and her pretensions, +whenever it has progressed one step since the foundation of the +world: by which all discoverers have discovered, all teachers +taught: by which all polities, kingdoms, civilizations, arts, +manufactures, have established themselves; all who have raised +themselves above the mob have faced the mob, and conquered the +mob, crucified by them first and worshipped by them afterwards: +by which the first savage conquered the natural law which put +wild beasts in the forest, by killing them; conquered the natural +law which makes raw meat wholesome, by cooking it; conquered the +natural law which made weeds grow at his hut door, by rooting +them up, and planting corn instead; and won his first spurs in +the great battle of man against nature, proving thereby that he +was a man, and not an ape? What but +this?—‘Nature is strong, but I am stronger. I +know her worth, but I know my own. I trust her and her +laws, but my trusty servant she shall be, and not my tyrant; and +if she interfere with my ideal, even with my personal comfort, +then Nature and I will fight it out to the last gasp, and Heaven +defend the right!’</p> +<p>In forgetting this, in my humble opinion, lay the error of the +early, or laissez faire School of Political Economy. It was +too much inclined to say to men: ‘You are the puppets of +certain natural laws. Your own freewill and choice, if they +really exist, exist merely as a dangerous disease. All you +can do is to submit to the laws, and drift whithersoever they may +carry you, for good or evil.’ But not less certainly +was the same blame to be attached to the French Socialist +School. It, though based on a revolt from the Philosophie +du neant, philosophie de la misère, as it used to term the +laissez faire School, yet retained the worst fallacy of its foe, +namely, that man was the creature of circumstances; and denied +him just as much as its antagonist the possession of freewill, or +at least the right to use freewill on any large scale.</p> +<p>The laissez faire School was certainly the more logical of the +two. With them, if man was the creature of circumstances, +those circumstances were at least defined for him by external +laws which he had not created: while the Socialists, with Fourier +at their head (as it has always seemed to me), fell into the +extraordinary paradox of supposing that though man was the +creature of circumstances, he was to become happy by creating the +very circumstances which were afterwards to create him. But +both of them erred, surely, in ignoring that self-arbitrating +power of man, by which he can, for good or for evil, rebel +against and conquer circumstance.</p> +<p>I am not, surely, overstepping my province as Professor of +History, in alluding to this subject. Just notions of +Political Economy are absolutely necessary to just notions of +History; and I should wish those young gentlemen who may attend +my Lectures, to go first, were it possible, to my more learned +brother, the Professor of Political Economy, and get from him not +merely exact habits of thought, but a knowledge which I cannot +give, and yet which they ought to possess. For to take the +very lowest ground, the first fact of history is, Bouche va +toujours; whatever men have or have not done, they have always +eaten, or tried to eat; and the laws which regulate the supply of +the first necessaries of life are, after all, the first which +should be learnt, and the last which should be ignored.</p> +<p>The more modern school, however, of Political Economy while +giving due weight to circumstance, has refused to acknowledge it +as the force which ought to determine all human life; and our +greatest living political economist has, in his Essay on Liberty, +put in a plea unequalled since the Areopagitica of Milton, for +the self-determining power of the individual, and for his right +to use that power.</p> +<p>But my business is not with rights, so much as with facts; and +as a fact, surely, one may say, that this inventive reason of man +has been, in all ages, interfering with any thing like an +inevitable sequence or orderly progress of humanity. Some +of those writers, indeed, who are most anxious to discover an +exact order, are most loud in their complaints that it has been +interfered with by over-legislation; and rejoice that mankind is +returning to a healthier frame of mind, and leaving nature alone +to her own work in her own way. I do not altogether agree +with their complaints; but of that I hope to speak in subsequent +lectures. Meanwhile, I must ask, if (as is said) most good +legislation now-a-days consists in repealing old laws which ought +never to have been passed; if (as is said) the great fault of our +forefathers was that they were continually setting things wrong, +by intermeddling in matters political, economic, religious, which +should have been let alone, to develop themselves in their own +way, what becomes of the inevitable laws, and the continuous +progress, of the human mind?</p> +<p>Look again at the disturbing power, not merely of the general +reason of the many, but of the genius of the few. I am not +sure, but that the one fact, that genius is occasionally present +in the world, is not enough to prevent our ever discovering any +regular sequence in human progress, past or future.</p> +<p>Let me explain myself. In addition to the infinite +variety of individual characters continually born (in itself a +cause of perpetual disturbance), man alone of all species has the +faculty of producing, from time to time, individuals immeasurably +superior to the average in some point or other, whom we call men +of genius. Like Mr. Babbage’s calculating machine, +human nature gives millions of orderly respectable common-place +results, which any statistician can classify, and enables hasty +philosophers to say—It always has gone on thus; it must go +on thus always; when behold, after many millions of orderly +results, there turns up a seemingly disorderly, a certainly +unexpected, result, and the law seems broken (being really +superseded by some deeper law) for that once, and perhaps never +again for centuries. Even so it is with man, and the +physiological laws which determine the earthly appearance of +men. Laws there are, doubt it not; but they are beyond us: +and let our induction be as wide as it may, they will baffle it; +and great nature, just as we fancy we have found out her secret, +will smile in our faces as she brings into the world a man, the +like of whom we have never seen, and cannot explain, define, +classify—in one word, a genius. Such do, as a fact, +become leaders of men into quite new and unexpected paths, and, +for good or evil, leave their stamp upon whole generations and +races. Notorious as this may be, it is just, I think, what +most modern theories of human progress ignore. They take +the actions and the tendencies of the average many, and from them +construct their scheme: a method not perhaps quite safe were they +dealing with plants or animals; but what if it be the very +peculiarity of this fantastic and altogether unique creature +called man, not only that he develops, from time to time, these +exceptional individuals, but that they are the most important +individuals of all? that his course is decided for him not by the +average many, but by the extraordinary few; that one Mahommed, +one Luther, one Bacon, one Napoleon, shall change the thoughts +and habits of millions?—So that instead of saying that the +history of mankind is the history of the masses, it would be much +more true to say, that the history of mankind is the history of +its great men; and that a true philosophy of history ought to +declare the laws—call them physical, spiritual, biological, +or what we choose—by which great minds have been produced +into the world, as necessary results, each in his place and +time.</p> +<p>That would be a science indeed; how far we are as yet from any +such, you know as well as I. As yet, the appearance of +great minds is as inexplicable to us as if they had dropped among +us from another planet. Who will tell us why they have +arisen when they did, and why they did what they did, and nothing +else? I do not deny that such a science is conceivable; +because each mind, however great or strange, may be the result of +fixed and unerring laws of life: and it is conceivable, too, that +such a science may so perfectly explain the past, as to be able +to predict the future; and tell men when a fresh genius is likely +to arise and of what form his intellect will be. +Conceivable: but I fear only conceivable; if for no other reason, +at least for this one. We may grant safely that the mind of +Luther was the necessary result of a combination of natural +laws. We may go further, and grant, but by no means safely, +that Luther, was the creature of circumstances, that there was no +self-moving originality in him, but that his age made him what he +was. To some modern minds these concessions remove all +difficulty and mystery: but not, I trust, to our minds. For +does not the very puzzle de quo agitur remain equally real; +namely, why the average of Augustine monks, the average of German +men, did not, by being exposed to the same average circumstances +as Luther, become what Luther was? But whether we allow +Luther to have been a person with an originally different +character from all others, or whether we hold him to have been +the mere puppet of outside influences, the first step towards +discovering how he became what he was, will be to find out what +he was. It will be more easy, and, I am sorry to say, more +common to settle beforehand our theory, and explain by it such +parts of Luther as will fit it; and call those which will not fit +it hard names. History is often so taught, and the method +is popular and lucrative. But we here shall be of opinion, +I am sure, that we only can learn causes through their effects; +we can only learn the laws which produced Luther, by learning +Luther himself; by analyzing his whole character; by gauging all +his powers; and that—unless the less can comprehend the +greater—we cannot do till we are more than Luther +himself. I repeat it. None can comprehend a man, +unless he be greater than that man. He must be not merely +equal to him, because none can see in another elements of +character which he has not already seen in himself: he must be +greater; because to comprehend him thoroughly, he must be able to +judge the man’s failings as well as his excellencies; to +see not only why he did what he did, but why he did not do more: +in a word, he must be nearer than his object is to the ideal +man.</p> +<p>And if it be assumed that I am quibbling on the words +‘comprehend’ and ‘greater,’ that the +observer need be greater only potentially, and not in act; that +all the comprehension required of him, is to have in himself the +germs of other men’s faculties, without having developed +those germs in life; I must still stand to my assertion. +For such a rejoinder ignores the most mysterious element of all +character, which we call strength: by virtue of which, of two +seemingly similar characters, while one does nothing, the other +shall do great things; while in one the germs of intellect and +virtue remain comparatively embryonic, passive, and weak, in the +other these same germs shall develop into manhood, action, +success. And in what that same strength consists, not even +the dramatic imagination of a Shakespeare could discover. +What are those heart-rending sonnets of his, but the confession +that over and above all his powers he lacked one thing, and knew +not what it was, or where to find it—and that was—to +be strong?</p> +<p>And yet he who will give us a science of great men, must begin +by having a larger heart, a keener insight, a more varying human +experience, than Shakespeare’s own; while those who offer +us a science of little men, and attempt to explain history and +progress by laws drawn from the average of mankind, are utterly +at sea the moment they come in contact with the very men whose +actions make the history, to whose thought the progress is +due. And why? Because (so at least I think) the new +science of little men can be no science at all: because the +average man is not the normal man, and never yet has been; +because the great man is rather the normal man, as approaching +more nearly than his fellows to the true ‘norma’ and +standard of a complete human character; and therefore to pass him +by as a mere irregular sport of nature, an accidental giant with +six fingers and six toes, and to turn to the mob for your theory +of humanity, is (I think) about as wise as to ignore the Apollo +and the Theseus, and to determine the proportions of the human +figure from a crowd of dwarfs and cripples.</p> +<p>No, let us not weary ourselves with narrow theories, with +hasty inductions, which will, a century hence, furnish mere +matter for a smile. Let us confine ourselves, at least in +the present infantile state of the anthropologic sciences, to +facts; to ascertaining honestly and patiently the thing which has +been done; trusting that if we make ourselves masters of them, +some rays of inductive light will be vouchsafed to us from Him +who truly comprehends mankind, and knows what is in man, because +He is the Son of Man; who has His own true theory of human +progress, His own sound method of educating the human race, +perfectly good, and perfectly wise, and at last, perfectly +victorious; which nevertheless, were it revealed to us to-morrow, +we could not understand; for if he who would comprehend Luther +must be more than Luther, what must he be, who would comprehend +God?</p> +<p>Look again, as a result of the disturbing force of genius, at +the effects of great inventions—how unexpected, complex, +subtle, all but miraculous—throwing out alike the path of +human history, and the calculations of the student. If +physical discoveries produced only physical or economic +results—if the invention of printing had only produced more +books, and more knowledge—if the invention of gunpowder had +only caused more or less men to be killed—if the invention +of the spinning-jenny had only produced more cotton-stuffs, more +employment, and therefore more human beings,—then their +effects would have been, however complex, more or less subjects +of exact computation.</p> +<p>But so strangely interwoven is the physical and spiritual +history of man, that material inventions produce continually the +most unexpected spiritual results. Printing becomes a +religious agent, causes not merely more books, but a Protestant +Reformation; then again, through the Jesuit literature, helps to +a Romanist counter-reformation; and by the clashing of the two, +is one of the great causes of the Thirty Years’ War, one of +the most disastrous checks which European progress ever +suffered. Gunpowder, again, not content with killing men, +becomes unexpectedly a political agent; ‘the villanous +saltpetre,’ as Ariosto and Shakespeare’s fop +complain, ‘does to death many a goodly gentleman,’ +and enables the masses to cope, for the first time, with knights +in armour; thus forming a most important agent in the rise of the +middle classes; while the spinning-jenny, not content with +furnishing facts for the political economist, and employment for +millions, helps to extend slavery in the United States, and gives +rise to moral and political questions, which may have, ere they +be solved, the most painful consequences to one of the greatest +nations on earth.</p> +<p>So far removed is the sequence of human history from any thing +which we can call irresistible or inevitable. Did one dare +to deal in epithets, crooked, wayward, mysterious, incalculable, +would be those which would rather suggest themselves to a man +looking steadily not at a few facts here and there, and not again +at some hasty bird’s-eye sketch, which he chooses to call a +whole, but at the actual whole, fact by fact, step by step, and +alas! failure by failure, and crime by crime.</p> +<p>Understand me, I beg. I do not wish (Heaven forbid!) to +discourage inductive thought; I do not wish to undervalue exact +science. I only ask that the moral world, which is just as +much the domain of inductive science as the physical one, be not +ignored; that the tremendous difficulties of analyzing its +phenomena be fairly faced; and the hope given up, at least for +the present, of forming any exact science of history; and I wish +to warn you off from the too common mistake of trying to explain +the mysteries of the spiritual world by a few roughly defined +physical laws (for too much of our modern thought does little +more than that); and of ignoring as old fashioned, or even +superstitious, those great moral laws of history, which are +sanctioned by the experience of ages.</p> +<p>Foremost among them stands a law which I must insist on, +boldly and perpetually, if I wish (as I do wish) to follow in the +footsteps of Sir James Stephen: a law which man has been trying +in all ages, as now, to deny, or at least to ignore; though he +might have seen it if he had willed, working steadily in all +times and nations. And that is—that as the fruit of +righteousness is wealth and peace, strength and honour; the fruit +of unrighteousness is poverty and anarchy, weakness and +shame. It is an ancient doctrine, and yet one ever +young. The Hebrew prophets preached it long ago, in words +which are fulfilling themselves around us every day, and which no +new discoveries of science will abrogate, because they express +the great root-law, which disobeyed, science itself cannot get a +hearing.</p> +<p>For not upon mind, gentlemen, not upon mind, but upon morals, +is human welfare founded. The true subjective history of +man is the history not of his thought, but of his conscience; the +true objective history of man is not that of his inventions, but +of his vices and his virtues. So far from morals depending +upon thought, thought, I believe, depends on morals. In +proportion as a nation is righteous,—in proportion as +common justice is done between man and man, will thought grow +rapidly, securely, triumphantly; will its discoveries be +cheerfully accepted, and faithfully obeyed, to the welfare of the +whole commonweal. But where a nation is corrupt, that is, +where the majority of individuals in it are bad, and justice is +not done between man and man, there thought will wither, and +science will be either crushed by frivolity and sensuality, or +abused to the ends of tyranny, ambition, profligacy, till she +herself perishes, amid the general ruin of all good things; as +she had done in Greece, in Rome, in Spain, in China, and many +other lands. Laws of economy, of polity, of health, of all +which makes human life endurable, may be ignored and trampled +under foot, and are too often, every day, for the sake of present +greed, of present passion; self-interest may become, and will +become, more and more blinded, just in proportion as it is not +enlightened by virtue; till a nation may arrive, though, thank +God, but seldom, at that state of frantic recklessness which +Salvian describes among his Roman countrymen in Gaul, when, while +the Franks were thundering at their gates, and starved and +half-burnt corpses lay about the unguarded streets, the remnant, +like that in doomed Jerusalem of old, were drinking, dicing, +ravishing, robbing the orphan and the widow, swindling the poor +man out of his plot of ground, and sending meanwhile to the +tottering Cæsar at Rome, to ask, not for armies, but for +Circensian games.</p> +<p>We cannot see how science could have bettered those poor +Gauls. And we can conceive, surely, a nation falling into +the same madness, and crying ‘Let us eat and drink, for +to-morrow we die,’ in the midst of railroads, +spinning-jennies, electric telegraphs, and crystal palaces, with +infinite blue-books and scientific treatises ready to prove to +them, what they knew perfectly well already, that they were +making a very unprofitable investment, both of money and of +time.</p> +<p>For science indeed is great: but she is not the +greatest. She is an instrument, and not a power; beneficent +or deadly, according as she is wielded by the hand of virtue or +of vice. But her lawful mistress, the only one which can +use her aright, the only one under whom she can truly grow, and +prosper, and prove her divine descent, is Virtue, the likeness of +Almighty God. This, indeed, the Hebrew Prophets, who knew +no science in one sense of the word, do not expressly say: but it +is a corollary from their doctrine, which we may discover for +ourselves, if we will look at the nations round us now, if we +will look at all the nations which have been. Even Voltaire +himself acknowledged that; and when he pointed to the Chinese as +the most prosperous nation upon earth, ascribed their prosperity +uniformly to their virtue. We now know that he was wrong in +fact: for we have discovered that Chinese civilization is one not +of peace and plenty, but of anarchy and wretchedness. But +that fact only goes to corroborate the belief, which (strange +juxtaposition!) was common to Voltaire and the old Hebrew +Prophets at whom he scoffed, namely, that virtue is wealth, and +vice is ruin. For we have found that these Chinese, the +ruling classes of them at least, are an especially unrighteous +people; rotting upon the rotting remnants of the wisdom and +virtue of their forefathers, which now live only on their lips in +flowery maxims about justice and mercy and truth, as a cloak for +practical hypocrisy and villany; and we have discovered also, as +a patent fact, just what the Hebrew Prophets would have foretold +us—that the miseries and horrors which are now destroying +the Chinese Empire, are the direct and organic results of the +moral profligacy of its inhabitants.</p> +<p>I know no modern nation, moreover, which illustrates so +forcibly as China the great historic law which the Hebrew +Prophets proclaim; and that is this:—That as the prosperity +of a nation is the correlative of their morals, so are their +morals the correlative of their theology. As a people +behaves, so it thrives; as it believes, so it behaves. Such +as his Gods are, such will the man be; down to that lowest point +which too many of the Chinese seem to have reached, where, having +no Gods, he himself becomes no man; but (as I hear you see him at +the Australian diggings) abhorred for his foul crimes even by the +scum of Europe.</p> +<p>I do not say that the theology always produces the morals, any +more than that the morals always produce the theology. Each +is, I think, alternately cause and effect. Men make the +Gods in their own likeness; then they copy the likeness they have +set up. But whichever be cause, and whichever effect, the +law, I believe, stands true, that on the two together depends the +physical welfare of a people. History gives us many +examples, in which superstition, many again in which profligacy, +have been the patent cause of a nation’s deoradation. +It does not, as far as I am aware, give us a single case of a +nation’s thriving and developing when deeply infected with +either of those two vices.</p> +<p>These, the broad and simple laws of moral retribution, we may +see in history; and (I hope) something more than them; something +of a general method, something of an upward progress, though any +thing but an irresistible or inevitable one. For I have not +argued that there is no order, no progress—God +forbid. Were there no order to be found, what could the +student with a man’s reason in him do, but in due time go +mad?—Were there no progress, what could the student with a +man’s heart within him do, but in due time break his heart, +over the sight of a chaos of folly and misery +irredeemable?—I only argue that the order and the progress +of human history cannot be similar to those which govern +irrational beings, and cannot (without extreme danger) be +described by metaphors (for they are nothing stronger) drawn from +physical science. If there be an order, a progress, they +must be moral; fit for the guidance of moral beings; limited by +the obedience which those moral beings pay to what they know.</p> +<p>And such an order, such a progress as that, I have good hope +that we shall find in history.</p> +<p>We shall find, as I believe, in all the ages, God educating +man; protecting him till he can go alone, furnishing him with the +primary necessaries, teaching him, guiding him, inspiring him, as +we should do to our children; bearing with him, and forgiving him +too, again and again, as we should do: but teaching him withal +(as we shall do if we be wise) in great part by his own +experience, making him test for himself, even by failure and +pain, the truth of the laws which have been given him; discover +for himself, as much as possible, fresh laws, or fresh +applications of laws; and exercising his will and faculties, by +trusting him to himself wherever he can be trusted without his +final destruction. This is my conception of history, +especially of Modern History—of history since the +Revelation of our Lord Jesus Christ. I express myself +feebly enough, I know. And even could I express what I mean +perfectly, it would still be but a partial analogy, not to be +pushed into details. As I said just now, were the true law +of human progress revealed to us to-morrow, we could not +understand it.</p> +<p>For suppose that the theory were true, which Dr. Temple of +Rugby has lately put into such noble words: suppose that, as he +says, ‘The power whereby the present ever gathers into +itself the results of the past, transforms the human race into a +colossal man, whose life reaches from the creation to the day of +judgment. The successive generations of men, are days in +this man’s life. The discoveries and inventions which +characterize the different epochs of the world, are this +man’s works. The creeds and doctrines, the opinions +and principles of the successive ages, are his thoughts. +The state of society at different times, are his manners. +He grows in knowledge, in self-control, in visible size, just as +we do.’ Suppose all this; and suppose too, that God +is educating this his colossal child, as we educate our own +children; it will hardly follow from thence that his education +would be, as Dr. Temple says it is, precisely similar to +ours.</p> +<p>Analogous it may be, but not precisely similar; and for this +reason: That the collective man, in the theory, must be +infinitely more complex in his organization than the individuals +of which he is composed. While between the educator of the +one and of the other, there is simply the difference between a +man and God. How much more complex then must his education +be! how all-inscrutable to human minds much in it!—often as +inscrutable as would our training of our children seem to the +bird brooding over her young ones in the nest. The parental +relations in all three cases may be—the Scriptures say that +they are—expansions of the same great law; the key to all +history may be contained in those great words—‘How +often would I have gathered thy children as a hen gathereth her +chickens under her wings.’ Yet even there the analogy +stops short—‘but thou wouldest not’ expresses a +new element, which has no place in the training of the nestling +by the dam, though it has place in our training of our children; +even that self-will, that power of disobedience, which is the +dark side of man’s prerogative as a rational and +self-cultivating being. Here that analogy fails, as we +should have expected it to do; and in a hundred other points it +fails, or rather transcends so utterly its original type, that +mankind seems, at moments, the mere puppet of those laws of +natural selection, and competition of species, of which we have +heard so much of late; and, to give a single instance, the +seeming waste, of human thought, of human agony, of human power, +seems but another instance of that inscrutable prodigality of +nature, by which, of a thousand acorns dropping to the ground, +but one shall become the thing it can become, and grow into a +builder oak, the rest be craunched up by the nearest swine.</p> +<p>Yet these dark passages of human life may be only necessary +elements of the complex education of our race; and as much mercy +under a fearful shape, as ours when we put the child we love +under the surgeon’s knife. At least we may believe +so; believe that they have a moral end, though that end be unseen +by us; and without any rash or narrow prying into final causes (a +trick as fatal to historic research as Bacon said it was to +science), we may justify God by faith, where we cannot justify +Him by experience.</p> +<p>Surely this will be the philosophic method. If we seem +to ourselves to have discovered a law, we do not throw it away +the moment we find phænomena which will not be explained by +it. We use those phænomena to correct and to expand +our law. And this belief that History is ‘God +educating man,’ is no mere hypothesis; it results from the +observation of thousands of minds, throughout thousands of +years. It has long seemed—I trust it will seem +still—the best explanation of the strange deeds of that +strange being, man: and where we find in history facts which seem +to contradict it, we shall not cast away rashly or angrily either +it or them: but if we be Bacon’s true disciples, we shall +use them patiently and reverently to correct and expand our +notions of the law itself, and rise thereby to more deep and just +conceptions of education, of man, and—it may be—of +God Himself.</p> +<p>In proportion as we look at history thus; searching for +effective, rather than final causes, and content to see God +working everywhere, without impertinently demanding of Him a +reason for His deeds, we shall study in a frame of mind equally +removed from superstition on the one hand, and necessitarianism +on the other. We shall not be afraid to confess natural +agencies: but neither shall we be afraid to confess those +supernatural causes which underlie all existence, save +God’s alone.</p> +<p>We shall talk of more than of an over-ruling Providence. +That such exists, will seem to us a patent fact. But it +will seem to us somewhat Manichæan to believe that the +world is ill made, mankind a failure, and that all God has to do +with them, is to set them right here and there, when they go +intolerably wrong. We shall believe not merely in an +over-ruling Providence, but (if I may dare to coin a word) in an +under-ruling one, which has fixed for mankind eternal laws of +life, health, growth, both physical and spiritual; in an +around-ruling Providence, likewise, by which circumstances, that +which stands around a man, are perpetually arranged, it may be, +are fore-ordained, so that each law shall have at least an +opportunity of taking effect on the right person, in the right +time and place; and in an in-ruling Providence. too, from whose +inspiration comes all true thought, all right feeling; from whom, +we must believe, man alone of all living things known to us +inherits that mysterious faculty of perceiving the law beneath +the phænomena, by virtue of which he is a <i>man</i>.</p> +<p>But we can hold all this, surely, and equally hold all which +natural science may teach us. Hold what natural science +teaches? We shall not dare not to hold it. It will be +sacred in our eyes. All light which science, political, +economic, physiological, or other, can throw upon the past, will +be welcomed by us, as coming from the Author of all light. +To ignore it, even to receive it suspiciously and grudgingly, we +shall feel to be a sin against Him. We shall dread no +‘inroads of materialism;’ because we shall be +standing upon that spiritual ground which underlies—ay, +causes—the material. All discoveries of science, +whether political or economic, whether laws of health or laws of +climate, will be accepted trustfully and cheerfully. And +when we meet with such startling speculations as those on the +influence of climate, soil, scenery on national character, which +have lately excited so much controversy, we shall welcome them at +first sight, just because they give us hope of order where we had +seen only disorder, law where we fancied chance: we shall verify +them patiently; correct them if they need correction; and if +proven, believe that they have worked, and still work, +ουκ ανευ +Θεου, as factors in the great +method of Him who has appointed to all nations their times, and +the bounds of their habitation, if haply they might feel after +Him, and find Him: though He be not far from any one of them; for +in Him we live, and move, and have our being, and are the +offspring of God Himself.</p> +<p>I thus end what it seemed to me proper to say in this, my +Inaugural Lecture; thanking you much for the patience with which +you have heard me: and if I have in it too often spoken of +myself, and my own opinions, I can only answer that it is a fault +which has been forced on me by my position, and which will not +occur again. It seemed to me that some sort of statement of +my belief was necessary, if only from respect to a University +from which I have been long separated, and to return to which is +to me a high honour and a deep pleasure; and I cannot but be +aware (it is best to be honest) that there exists a prejudice +against me in the minds of better men than I am, on account of +certain early writings of mine. That prejudice, I trust, +with God’s help, I shall be able to dissipate. At +least whatever I shall fail in doing, this University will find +that I shall do one thing; and that is, obey the Apostolic +precept, ‘Study to be quiet, and to do your own +business.’</p> +<h2>Footnotes:</h2> +<p><a name="footnote1"></a><a href="#citation1" +class="footnote">[1]</a> Grimm, Grammatik, ii. p. 516.</p> +<p><a name="footnote2"></a><a href="#citation2" +class="footnote">[2]</a> See Grimm, Grammatik, (2nd edit.) +vol. i. p. 108; vol. ii. p. 581.</p> +<p><a name="footnote3"></a><a href="#citation3" +class="footnote">[3]</a> Lectures on the Science of +Language, vol. ii. p. 232.</p> +<p><a name="footnote4"></a><a href="#citation4" +class="footnote">[4]</a> Förstemann mentions a Latin +inscription of the third century found near Wiesbaden with the +Dative Toutiorigi.</p> +<p><a name="footnote5"></a><a href="#citation5" +class="footnote">[5]</a> German classics, by M. M. p. +12.</p> +<p><a name="footnote6"></a><a href="#citation6" +class="footnote">[6]</a> Anonym. Valesian. ad calcem +Ann. Marcellin. p. 722. Gibbon, cap. xxxix; now +known, through Mommsen, as the Annals of Ravenna.</p> +<p><a name="footnote7"></a><a href="#citation7" +class="footnote">[7]</a> Grimm thinks that Charle-maigne +and Charlemagne were originally corruptions of Karlo-man, and +were interpreted later as Carolus magnus. Grimm, Grammatik, +ii. 462; iii. 320.</p> +<p><a name="footnote8"></a><a href="#citation8" +class="footnote">[8]</a> Weber, Lehrbuch der +Weltgeschichte, § 245: ‘Bei Verona von Theoderich +(daher Dietrich von Bern) besiegt, barg sich Odoaker hinter die +Mauern von Ravenna.’ It is much more objectionable +when Simrock in his translation of the Edda renders Thjodrekr by +Dietrich, though he retains Theodolf and similar names. But +it shows at the same time the wide popularity of that name.</p> +<p><a name="footnote9"></a><a href="#citation9" +class="footnote">[9]</a> Grimm, Heldensage, p. 344.</p> +<p><a name="footnote10"></a><a href="#citation10" +class="footnote">[10]</a> Gibbon, chap. xxxix. sub fin.</p> +<p><a name="footnote11"></a><a href="#citation11" +class="footnote">[11]</a> Otto von Freising, in the first +half of the twelfth century (Chronicon 5, 3), takes the opposite +view, and thinks the fable derived from history: ‘Ob ea non +multis post diebus, xxx imperii sui anno, subitanea morte rapitur +ac juxta beati Gregorii dialogum (4, 36) a Joanne et Symmacho in +Aetnam praecipitatus, a quodam homine Dei cernitur. Hinc +puto fabulam illam traductam, qua vulgo dicitur: <i>Theodoricus +vivus equo sedens ad inferos descendit</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote12"></a><a href="#citation12" +class="footnote">[12]</a> Grimm, Deutsche Heldensage, p. +36. Chronicon Urspergense, 85a: Haec Jordanis quidam +grammaticus, ex eorundem stirpe Gothorum progenitus, de Getarum +origine et Amalorum nobilitate non omnia, quae de eis scribuntur +et referuntur, ut ipse dicit, complexus exaravit, sed brevius pro +rerum notitia huic opusculo inseruimus. His perlectis +diligenterque perspectis perpendat, qui discernere noverit, +quomodo illud ratum teneatur, quod non solum +<i>vulgarifabulatione</i> et <i>cantilenarum modulatione</i> +usitatur, verum etiam in <i>quibusdam chronicis</i> annotatur; +scilicet quod <i>Hermenricus</i> tempore Martiani principis super +omnes Gothos regnaverit, et <i>Theodoricum Dietmari filium</i>, +<i>patruelem</i> suum, ut dicunt, <i>instimulante Odoacre</i>, +item, ut ajunt, <i>patruele suo de Verona pulsum</i>, apud +<i>Attilam Hunorum regem exulare coegerit</i>, cum +historiographus narret, Ermenricum regem Gothorum multis regibus +dominantem tempore Valentiniani et Valentis fratrum regnasse et a +<i>duobus fratribus Saro</i> et <i>Ammio</i>, quos conjicimus eos +fuisse, qui <i>vulgariter Sarelo et Hamidiecus</i> dicuntur, +vulneratum in primordio egressionis Hunorum per Maeotidem +paludem, quibus rex fuit Valamber, tam vulneris quam Hunorum +irruptionis dolore defunctum fuisse, Attilam vero postea ultra +<span class="smcap">lxx</span> annos sub Martiano et Valentiniano +cum Romanis et Wisigothis Aetioque duce Romanorum pugnasse et sub +eisdem principibus regno vitaque decessisse. . . . Hinc rerum +diligens inspector perpendat, quomodo <i>Ermenricus Theodoricum +Dietmari filium apud Attilam exulare coegerit</i>, cum juxta hunc +historiographum contemporalis ejus non fuit. Igitur aut hic +falsa conscripsit, aut <i>vulgaris opinio fallitur</i> et +<i>fallit</i>, aut alius Ermenricus et alms Theodoricus dandi +sunt Attilae contemporanei, in quibus hujus modi rerum +convenientia rata possit haberi. Hic enim Ermenricus longe +ante Attilam legitur defunctus.</p> +<p><a name="footnote13"></a><a href="#citation13" +class="footnote">[13]</a> Chronicon, 5, 3: Quod autem +rursum narrant, eum Hermanarico Attilaeque contemporaneum fuisse, +omnino stare non potest, dum Attilam longe post Hermanaricum +constat exercuisse tyrannidem istumque post mortem Attilae +octennem a patre obsidem Leoni Augusto traditum.</p> +<p><a name="footnote14"></a><a href="#citation14" +class="footnote">[14]</a> Chronicon, 16, 481: Quod autem +quidam dicunt, ipsum Theodoricum fuisse Hermenrico Veronensi et +Attilae contemporaneum, non est verum. Constat enim Attilam +longe post Hermenricum fuisse Theodoricum etiam longe post mortem +Attilae, quum esset puer octennis, Leoni imperatori in obsidem +datum fuisse.</p> +<p><a name="footnote19"></a><a href="#citation19" +class="footnote">[19]</a> The early romancers, and +especially Achilles Tatius, give pictures of Roman prædial +slavery too painful to quote. Roman domestic slavery is not +to be described by the pen of an Englishman. And I must +express my sorrow, that in the face of such notorious facts, some +have of late tried to prove American slavery to be as bad as, or +even worse than, that of Rome. God forbid! Whatsoever +may have been the sins of the Southern gentleman, he is at least +a Teuton, and not a Roman; a whole moral heaven above the +effeminate wretch, who in the 4th and 5th centuries called +himself a senator and a clarissimus.</p> +<p><a name="footnote101"></a><a href="#citation101" +class="footnote">[101]</a> Dr. Sheppard, p. 297.</p> +<p><a name="footnote109"></a><a href="#citation109" +class="footnote">[109]</a> Had he actually taken the name +of Theodoric, Theuderic, Dietrich, which signifies much the same +thing as ‘King of nations’?</p> +<p><a name="footnote158"></a><a href="#citation158" +class="footnote">[158]</a> With west-countrymen, to +‘scrattle’ still means to scramble, or shuffle +about.</p> +<p><a name="footnote162"></a><a href="#citation162" +class="footnote">[162]</a> English Language, vol. i. p. +200.</p> +<p><a name="footnote214"></a><a href="#citation214" +class="footnote">[214]</a> Cf. Montalembert. +‘Moines d’Occident.’</p> +<p><a name="footnote279"></a><a href="#citation279" +class="footnote">[279]</a> Sismondi <i>Hist. de la Chute de +l’Empire Romain</i>, p. 187.</p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ROMAN AND THE TEUTON***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 3821-h.htm or 3821-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/8/2/3821 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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