Meantime Germanicus had collected his army, and had everything ready for taking vengeance upon the rebels. Thinking, nevertheless, that he should still give

them time to take the matter into their own hands, according to the example lately set, he sent on a letter to Cæcina, informing him of his approach with a strong force, and announcing that unless the guilty were punished before he came, he would put all indiscriminately to the sword. This despatch Cæcina read privately to the eagle- and standard-bearers, and to the best affected among the men, urging them to save the honour of the corps as well as their own lives. In time of peace, he remarked, cases are judged upon their merits; when it comes to fighting, innocent and guilty fall alike. These men sounded those whom they thought the likeliest; and having satisfied themselves that the majority were loyal, fixed a time, at the suggestion of the Legate, for falling upon the most obnoxious and prominent agitators. At a given signal, they burst into their tents, and cut them down unawares, none but those in the secret knowing how the slaughter had begun, or where it was to end.

Never was there a conflict in any civil war like to this. There was no battle; there were no opposing camps: men who had messed together by day, and slept together by night, rose out of the same beds, divided themselves into sides, and fell upon each other. The shouts, the wounds, and the blood, every one could see or hear; but no cause for it could be seen: chance ruled all. Some loyal men were slain with the rest; for the worst offenders had taken up their arms on discovering against whom the attack was aimed. There was no Legate, no Tribune, to control; every man had free license to glut his vengeance to the full. Germanicus entered the camp soon after

that this was a massacre, and no remedy, he ordered the bodies to be burned.

The minds of the soldiers being still set on blood, a longing seized them to march against the enemy as an atonement for their madness; as though there were no other way to appease the spirits of their comrades than to expose their guilty breasts to honourable wounds. Falling in with their ardour, Germanicus threw a bridge across the Rhine, and passed a force of twelve thousand legionaries over the river, together with twenty-six cohorts and eight squadrons of the allies, who had never wavered in their allegiance.

The Germans were not far off. They had rejoiced to see our attention taken up, first by the holiday on the death of Augustus, and afterwards by the mutiny. A rapid march brought Germanicus to the Casian forest, where he crossed the lines laid out by Tiberius and encamped upon the works, his front and his rear protected by entrenchments, his flanks by barricades of trees. He had next to traverse a dense forest country, having two routes to choose from one the shorter and usual route, the other more difficult and unfrequented, and for that reason unguarded by the enemy. Selecting the longer of the two, he pushed on with all speed; for his scouts had brought word that the Germans were to hold a festival that night, with games and banqueting. Cæcina was sent on with some light cohorts to clear a way through the forest; the legions followed at some little distance. A bright starry night favoured the enterprise. On reaching the Marsian villages, he drew his posts all round them. The enemy were already in bed, or sprawling upon the tables, suspecting no danger; there were no sentries set in front; all was carelessness and confusion: for they had no thought of battle, and even such quiet as they were enjoying

was but the feeble and relaxed repose of drunkenness.

To extend the area of his ravages, Germanicus divided his eager troops into four columns, and laid waste fifty miles of country with fire and sword. No pity was shown to either age or sex. Things sacred and profane alike—even the most famous temple of the tribe, that of the Goddess called Tanfana-were levelled to the ground; and as our men had fallen on the enemy when half-asleep, unarmed or dispersed, they had sustained no loss.

The news of this massacre roused the Bructeri, the Tubantes, and the Usipetes, who beset the forest passes by which the army had to return. Apprised of this, Germanicus arranged his retreat alike for marching and for fighting. The auxiliary cohorts, with part of the cavalry, led the way; then came the 1st legion. In the middle was the baggage, guarded on the left flank by the 21st, on the right by the 5th legions; the 20th protected the rear, and behind came the rest of the allies.

The enemy bided their time till the force was stretching out through the pass; then making feint attacks upon the front and flanks, they fell with their full force upon the rear. The light cohorts were being thrown into confusion by the dense masses of the Germans, when Germanicus rode up to the 20th:-"Now is the time," he shouted, "to wipe out all memory of the mutiny! Forward! quick forward! and turn your shame into glory!" Inflamed by these words, the 20th burst through the enemy's line with one dash, and drove them back with great slaughter into the open; at the same moment the van emerged from the pass, and threw up entrenchments for a camp. From this point onward the march was undisturbed. Rendered confident by their recent successes, and forgetting past occurrences, the troops settled down into their winter quarters.

The news of these events caused Ti

berius no less anxiety than satisfaction. He was pleased that the mutiny had been got under; but he was annoyed that Germanicus should have gained the goodwill of the soldiers by gifts of money, and by shortening the term of service. He was jealous also of his military success. Nevertheless, he brought his exploits before the notice of the Senate, and said much in his praise, though in language too carefully studied for effect to create an impression of sincerity. His satisfaction with Drusus, and at the ending of the movement in Illyricum, he expressed in fewer words; but they were more earnest and sincere. And he extended to the Pannonian army all the concessions which Germanicus had granted to the other.

-G. G. RAMSAY.

THE PURPOSE OF HISTORY

[From the Annals, Book III]

Tacitus has the same conception of the ethical function of history as his predecessor Livy.

It is no part of my purpose to set forth every motion that was made in the Senate, but only such as were either very honourable or specially disgraceful in their character. For I deem it to be the chief function of history to rescue merit from oblivion, and to hold up before evil words and evil deeds the terror of the reprobation of posterity. And in those days, so deep, so foul, was the taint of flattery, that not only men of leading in the state

-men who could only maintain their illustrious position by subserviency-but also the whole body of Consulars, many of prætorian rank, and even many ordinary senators, would rise in the Senate and outbid one another in making fulsome and extravagant proposals. Tradition tells how Tiberius, every time that he left the Senate-house, would ex

The writer of ancient history finds few to criticise him; it concerns no one if he praise too warmly the armies of Carthage or of Rome. But there are many living now whose ancestors suffered punishment, or incurred disgrace, under Tiberius; and even if the families concerned have died out, there are those who deem an attack upon vices akin to their own to be an attack upon themselves. Even glory and virtue have their enemies; for when placed too close to their opposites they wear an aspect of rebuke. But I must return from this digression.

In this year Cremutius Cordus was impeached upon a novel charge, now heard for the first time-that he had commended Marcus Brutus in his History, and called Gaius Cassius "The last of the Romans." The accusers, Satrius Secundus and Pinarius Natta, were both clients of Sejanus; which fact, as well as the evident displeasure with which Tiberius listened to the defence, proved fatal to the accused. Having made up his mind to die, Cremutius spoke as follows: "My words, Conscript Fathers, are arraigned; so innocent am I of any evil deed. Yet these words were not uttered against the Emperor, or his father, the persons to whom the law of Majesty applies: my offence is that I

have praised Brutus and Cassius, men whose deeds have been recorded by many, whom none have named without respect. Titus Livius, a writer pre-eminent for eloquence and candour, eulogised Gnæus Pompeius so warmly that Augustus called him 'a Pompeian': but this caused no interruption in their friendship. He speaks of Scipio and Afranius, of this same Cassius, this Brutus, never as raiders and parricides-the names men give them now-but often as distinguished men. Asinius Pollio gives a noble account of them in his history; Messalla Corvinus used to call Cassius 'his own Imperator'; and yet both lived on wealthy and honoured to the end. When Marcus Cicero wrote a book in which he lauded Cato to the skies, what else did the Dictator Cæsar do but write a speech in. answer, as though he were pleading before a judge? The letters of Antonius, the speeches of Brutus, contain the most bitter abuse of Augustus, as false as it is foul; men read the poems of Bibaculus and Catullus, which are full of insults to the Cæsars; yet the Divine Julius, the Divine Augustus, bore these things and passed them by. Whether in this more to praise their forbearance, or their wisdom, I know not: for the insult which goes unnoticed dies; to resent it, is to accord it recognition.

I say nothing of the Greeks, who tolerated not liberty only, but license, or at the most, paid back words with words; and men have always been free to speak uncensured of those whom Death has placed beyond the reach of hate or favour. Am I, forsooth, in arms, with Cassius and Brutus, upon the plains of Philippi, or inflaming the people to civil war by my harangues? Is the case not rather this: that just as these men are known to us by their statues-statues respected even by their conqueror-so in like manner, though dead for more than seventy years, they still hold their place upon the page of history? For posterity awards to

every man the honour that is his due; and if I be now condemned, men will remember not Cassius and Brutus only, but me also."

Cremutius then left the Senate-house, and put an end to himself by starvation. His books, by order of the Senate, were burned by the Ediles. And yet they were saved; hidden away for a time, they were again put forth. Hence one cannot but smile at the dulness of those who believe that the authority of to-day

can

extinguish men's memories tomorrow. Nay rather, they who penalise genius do but extend its power: whether they be foreign tyrants, or imitators of foreign tyranny, they do but reap dishonour for themselves, and glory for their victims.

-G. G. RAMSAY.

TYRANNY BEGETS TYRANTS

[From the Annals, Book VI] Tyranny is not necessarily the result of a ruler's character. It is often forced upon the ruler by the very system of government of which he is the head.

At Rome, meanwhile, the seeds of future blood-shed were being sown. Lælius Balbus had brought a charge of treason against Acutia, formerly wife of Publius Vitellius; but when she was convicted, and it was proposed to vote a reward to the accuser, Junius Otho, a tribune of the Plebs, interposed his veto: the quarrel thus raised between the two resulting in Otho's banishment. Next, Albucilla, who was notorious for her amours, and had been the wife of Satrius Secundus, one of the informers against Sejanus, was accused of impiety towards Tiberius: Gnæus Domitius, Vibius Marsus, and Lucius Arruntius being named as her lovers and accomplices. Of the noble birth of Domitius, I have already spoken; Marsus also belonged to an an

cient and illustrious family, and was a man of high attainments. It appeared from the papers laid before the Senate that Macro had himself presided at the examination of the witnesses, and the torture of the slaves; but as Tiberius wrote no letter against the accused persons, the suspicion arose that Macro, taking advantage of the Emperor's weakness, and perhaps even without his knowledge, had trumped up a series of false charges to gratify his well-known hatred of Arruntius.

So the lives of Domitius and Marsus were prolonged; the former set about preparing for his defence, the latter made as though he had resolved upon starvation. But when the friends of Arruntius implored him to delay and temporise, he replied as follows:- The rule of honour, he said, was not the same for all. He had had enough of life: the one thing he had to repent of was that he had endured to live on to old age amid perils and mockeries, always in anxiety, always the object of some great man's hatred. It had been Sejanus for a time, it was now Macro; and his only crime was that he could not tolerate iniquity. He might doubtless live through the few remaining days of Tiberius: but how could he escape from the stripling who was to come after? If the possession of power had perforce deranged and transformed Tiberius, with all his experience of affairs, was it likely that Gaius Cæsar would do better, with Macro to point the way? The lad was scarce out of his teens, ignorant of everything, or instructed only in what was evil; and Macro had been chosen to crush Sejanus as the greater villain of the two, having committed crimes more numerous, more disastrous to the State than he. He could foresee days of still grosser servitude; and he was making his escape from future as well as from present evils.

Uttering these words in the manner of an inspired prophet, he opened his

veins. What follows will show how well Arruntius did to die. -G. G. RAMSAY.

THE DEATH OF SENECA

[From the Annals, Book XV]

To believers in Stoicism suicide seemed a proper means of escape from a life which had nothing further to offer. Scenes like that here described were frequently enacted under the regime of the early Cæsars.

Then came the death of Annæus Seneca, which gave great joy to Nero; not that he had any clear evidence of his guilt, but because he could now do by the sword what he had failed to do by poison. The sole witness against him was Natalis, and his evidence only came to this, that he had been sent to see Seneca when he was ill, and to complain of his refusing to see Piso: It would be better, he had said, for such old friends to keep up their habits of intercourse. To this Seneca had replied: Frequent meetings and conversations would do neither of them any good, but his own welfare depended on Piso's safety.

Gavius Silvanus, Tribune of a Prætorian Cohort, was ordered to take the report of this incident to Seneca, and to ask him, Whether he admitted the correctness of the question of Natalis, and of his own answer to it? Either by chance or purposely, it happened that Seneca was returning on that day from Campania, and had halted at a suburban villa four miles from Rome. Thither, towards evening the Tribune proceeded; and having surrounded the house with soldiers, he delivered the Emperor's message Seneca when he was at table with his wife Pompeia Paulina and two friends.

to

Seneca's reply was:-Natalis had been sent to complain on behalf of Piso that he was not permitted to visit him; and

he had tendered in excuse the state of his health and his love of quiet. As to his reason for regarding the welfare of a private individual as of more value than his own safety, he had had none. He was not a man addicted to flattery: and that no one knew better than Nero himself, who had more often found him too free than too servile in his utterances.

On receiving this report from the Tribune in the presence of Poppea and Tigellinus, who formed the Emperor's inner council of cruelty, Nero asked, Was Seneca preparing to put an end to himself? The Tribune declared that, He had observed no sign of alarm or dejection in Seneca's face or language. He was therefore ordered to go back and tell him he must die.

Fabius Rusticus states that the Tribune did not return by the same road by which he came, but that he went out of his way to see Fænius the Perfect; and having shown him Cæsar's order, asked him, Should he obey it? and that Fænius, with that fatal weakness which had come over them all, told him to execute his orders. For Silvanus himself was one of the conspirators, and he was now adding one more crime to those which he had conspired to avenge. But he spared his own eyes and tongue, sending in one of the centurions to announce to Seneca that his last hour was come.

Seneca, undismayed, asked for his will; but this the centurion refused. Then turning to his friends, he called them to witness that, Being forbidden to requite them for their services, he was leaving to them the sole, and yet the noblest, possession that remained to him-the pattern of his life. If they bore that in mind, they would win for themselves a name for virtue as the reward of their devoted friendship. At one moment he would check their tears with conversation; at another he would brace up their courage by high-strung language of rebuke, asking, Where was now their phi