flank of an assailant was exposed to missiles. The rock terminated in a precipice; the towers were raised to a height of sixty feet, where the hill lent its aid to the fortifications, where the ground fell, to a height of one hundred and twenty. They had a marvellous appearance, and to a distant spectator seemed to be of uniform elevation. Within were other walls surround. ing the palace, and, rising to a The temple resembled a citadel, and had its own walls, which were more laboriously constructed than the others. Even the colonnades with which it was surrounded formed an admirable outwork. It contained an inexhaustible spring; there were subterranean excavations in the hill, and tanks and cisterns for holding rain water. The founders of the State had foreseen that frequent wars would result from the singularity of its customs, and so had made every provision against the most protracted siege. After the capture of their city by Pompey, experience and apprehension taught them much. Availing themselves of the sordid policy of the Claudian era to purchase the right of fortification, they raised in time of peace such walls as were suited for war. Their numbers were increased by a vast rabble collected from the overthrow of the other cities. All the most obstinate rebels had escaped into the place, and perpetual seditions were the consequence. There were three generals, and as many armies. Simon held the outer and larger circuit of walls. John, also called Bar-gi-oʻras, occupied the middle city. E-le-aʼzar had fortified the temple. John and Simon were strong in numbers and equip. TITUS. ment, Eleazar in position. There were continual skirmishes, surprises, and incendiary fires, and a vast quantity of corn was burned. Before long John sent some emissaries, who, under pretense of sacrificing, slaughtered Eleazar and his partisans, and gained possession of the temple. The city was thus divided between two factions, till, as the Romans approached, war with the foreigner brought about a reconciliation. Prodigies had occurred, which this nation, prone to superstition, but hating all religious rites, did not deem it lawful to expiate by offering and sacrifice. There had been seen hosts joining battle in the skies, the fiery gleam of arms, the temple illuminated by a sudden radiance from the clouds. The doors of the inner shrine were suddenly thrown open, and a voice of more than mortal tone was heard to cry that the gods were departing. At the same instant there was a mighty stir as of departure. Some few put a fearful meaning on these events, but in most there was a firm persuasion, that in the ancient records of their priests was contained a prediction of how at this very time the East was to grow powerful, and rulers, coming from Judæa, were to acquire universal empire. These mysterious prophecies had pointed to Vespasian and Titus, but the common people, with the usual blindness of ambition, had interpreted these mighty destinies of themselves, and could not be brought even by disasters to believe the truth. I have heard that the total number of the besieged, of every age and both sexes, amounted to six hundred thousand. All who were able bore arms, and a number, more than proportionate to the population, had the courage to do so. Men and women showed equal resolution, and life seemed more terrible than death, if they were to be forced to leave their country. Such was this city and nation; and Titus Cæsar, seeing that the position forbade an assault or any of the more rapid operations of war, determined to proceed by earth-works and covered approaches. The legions had their respective duties assigned to them, and there was a cessation from fighting, till all the inventions, used in ancient warfare, or devised by modern ingenuity for the reduction of cities, were constructed. Here Tacitus, without notice, turns away to bring forward. in recital certain parallel operations proceeding in a different part of the empire. And Tacitus makes, in what we possess of his history, no return to what would have interested us so much, namely, the siege and capture of Jerusalem. Our readers will discover-in the perfectly composed air with which Tacitus explains that the predictions of Scripture, mistakenly, as he assumes, supposed by the Jews to point to the Messiah, pointed in fact to Vespasian and Titus-a proof, not needed, of the supreme egotism natural to the Roman race. What different disposition could reasonably be looked for in the lords of the world? But how solemnly sublime a light seems to be thrown on the end of the Old Testament Jewish age, in those sentences of Tacitus-read them again"There had been seen hosts joining battle in the skies, the fiery gleam of arms, the temple illuminated by a sudden radiance from the clouds. The doors of the inner shrine were suddenly thrown open, and a voice of more than mortal tone was heard to cry that the gods were departing. At the same instant there was a mighty stir as of departure.” So much for the "History," properly so called, of Tacitus. It begins with the events immediately preceding the accession of Galba, 69 A. D. Of the entire work, which should comprise the events of nearly thirty years, we have not quite enough to cover the events of two years. We have lost then, probably, at least ten times as much as we have, of the History of Tacitus-a sad lacuna this, to yawn hopelessly in classic literature. We said that Tacitus has a story to tell not less entertaining than the story told by Livy. Tacitus himself, however, felt that he wrote at disadvantage, as contrasted with preceding historians, because his subject was less heroic, less glorious. He was at heart an aristocrat of the elder times. The degeneracy of the senate of his own days, he bewailed, as one kindred in spirit with that proud oligarchy of which, a hundred years before, Livy had sung in lyric prose his "passionate ballad, gallant and gay." Still Tacitus was, under the circumstances that he found existing, a good enough imperialist. Doubtless he thought the new order that had established itself, better than the old order which, because it was no longer worthy, had lapsed. You hear, however, the undertone of pathos for the long-gone and irrecoverable past, mingled with superb disdain for the ignoble present, running through the whole course of the history of Tacitus. Indignant pessimism is the key-note everywhere to his writing. The "Annals," a different work, to be distinguished from the "History," embraced the interval between the years 14 and 68 of the Christian era. The concluding part, that is, the part covering the last three years of the reign of Nero, is lost. Parts also in the midst of the work have perished. The whole narrative is depressing. It is a melancholy monotony of misery and crime. But Tacitus writes with such art that you are fascinated to read it from beginning to end. He holds you with his glittering eye. The story of Nero is, perhaps, the part most familiar of all to the modern reader. This might seem a reason for choosing some other part, some part more novel, to be presented here. But the evil tale of Nero is the most familiar, because it is the most interesting. We should commit a mistake, to be deterred from it by that very fact about it which proves it the most attractive. Let us, then, undoubtingly, make choice of Nero for the hero of what we draw here from the Annals of Tacitus. There will be found, by intelligent readers, a considerable compensation for the sense of familiarity experienced, in the satisfaction they will derive from the consciousness of having now to do with an original source of information on the subject treated. NERO AS APOLLO. The story of Nero, as told by Tacitus, is a long story. Let us take a plunge at once into the midst of things. There are three associate personages of the plot, to share, almost equally with Nero, the interest of the reader. These three are Burrus, Seneca, and, above all, A-grip-pi'na, the emperor's mother. Of A-fra'ni-us Burrus and An-næ'us Seneca-this is the famous philosopher-Tacitus says: These two men guided the emperor's youth with a unity of purpose seldom found where authority is shared, and though their accomplishments were wholly different, they had equal influence. Burrus, with his soldier's discipline and severe manners, Seneca, with lessons of eloquence and a dignified courtesy, strove alike to confine the frailty of the prince's youth, should he loathe virtue, within allowable indulgences. They had both alike to struggle against the domineering spirit of Agrippina. One of the earliest among the public acts of the youthful emperor Nero, was to pronounce a funeral oration on his predecessor, Claudius. Tacitus's account of this, with characteristic comment of his own interspersed, lets out some secrets of Nero's disposition and of the current temper of the timenot less, perhaps, also, of the historian's own individual humor: On the day of the funeral the prince pronounced Claudius's panegyric, and while he dwelt on the antiquity of his family and on the consulships and triumphs of his ancestors, there was enthusiasm both in himself and his audience. The praise of his graceful accomplishments, and the remark that during his reign no disaster had befallen Rome from the foreigner, were heard with favor. When the speaker passed on to his foresight and wisdom, no one could refrain from laughter, though the speech, which was composed by Seneca, exhibited much elegance, as indeed that famous man had an attractive genius which suited the popular ear of the time. Elderly men, who amuse their leisure with comparing the past and the present, observed that Nero was the first emperor who needed another man's eloquence. The dictator Cæsar rivaled the greatest orators, and Augustus had an easy and fluent way of speaking, such as became a sovereign. Tiberius, too, thoroughly understood the art of balancing words, and was sometimes forcible in the expression of his thoughts, or else intentionally obscure. Even Caius Cæsar's disordered intellect did not wholly mar his faculty of speech. Nor did Claudius, when he spoke with preparation, lack elegance. Nero from early boyhood turned his lively genius in other directions; he carved, painted, sang, or practiced the management of horses, occasionally composing verses which showed that he had the rudiments of learning. |