Book Three

1. Of the ills which alone the wicked fear, and which the world continually suffered, even when the gods were worshipped.

1. The troubles that only the wicked fear, and that the world continually suffered, even when people worshipped the gods.

Of moral and spiritual evils, which are above all others to be deprecated, I think enough has already been said to show that the false gods took no steps to prevent the people who worshipped them from being overwhelmed by such calamities, but rather aggravated the ruin. I see I must now speak of those evils which alone are dreaded by the heathen—famine, pestilence, war, pillage, captivity, massacre, and the like calamities, already enumerated in the first book. For evil men account those things alone evil which do not make men evil; neither do they blush to praise good things, and yet to remain evil among the good things they praise. It grieves them more to own a bad house than a bad life, as if it were man's greatest good to have everything good but himself. But not even such evils as were alone dreaded by the heathen were warded off by their gods, even when they were most unrestrictedly worshipped. For in various times and places before the advent of our Redeemer, the human race was crushed with numberless and sometimes incredible calamities; and at that time what gods but those did the world worship, if you except the one nation of the Hebrews, and, beyond them, such individuals as the most secret and most just judgment of God counted worthy of divine grace?¹¹⁵ But that I may not be prolix, I will be silent regarding the heavy calamities that have been suffered by any other nations, and will speak only of what happened to Rome and the Roman empire, by which I mean Rome properly so called, and those lands which already, before the coming of Christ, had by alliance or conquest become, as it were, members of the body of the state.

I think I have said enough about moral and spiritual evils, which we should fear above all others. The false gods did nothing to keep their worshippers from being overwhelmed by such disasters. Instead, they made their ruin worse. I must now speak of the evils that pagans alone fear: famine, disease, war, plunder, captivity, slaughter, and similar disasters already listed in the first book. Evil people consider only those things evil that do not make people evil. They feel no shame in praising good things while remaining evil amid the good things they praise. It troubles them more to own a bad house than to live a bad life. They seem to think that a person’s greatest good is to have everything good except himself. Yet their gods did not protect them even from the evils they alone feared, even when they were worshipped most freely. At various times and places before our Redeemer came, countless disasters crushed the human race. Some were almost beyond belief. At that time, whom did the world worship but those gods? The exceptions were the one nation of the Hebrews and, beyond them, those individuals whom God, in his most hidden and most just judgment, considered worthy of divine grace.¹¹⁵ But I do not want to go on too long. So I will say nothing of the terrible disasters suffered by other nations. I will speak only of what happened to Rome and the Roman Empire. By this I mean Rome itself and those lands that had already become, as it were, parts of the body of the state before Christ came, whether through alliance or conquest.

2. Whether the gods, whom the Greeks and Romans worshipped in common, were justified in permitting the destruction of Ilium.

2. Whether the gods worshipped by both Greeks and Romans were justified in allowing the destruction of Troy.

First, then, why was Troy or Ilium, the cradle of the Roman people (for I must not overlook nor disguise what I touched upon in the first book¹¹⁶), conquered, taken, and destroyed by the Greeks, though it esteemed and worshipped the same gods as they? Priam, some answer, paid the penalty of the perjury of his father Laomedon.¹¹⁷ Then it is true that Laomedon hired Apollo and Neptune as his workmen. For the story goes that he promised them wages, and then broke his bargain. I wonder that famous diviner Apollo toiled at so huge a work, and never suspected Laomedon was going to cheat him of his pay. And Neptune too, his uncle, brother of Jupiter, king of the sea, it really was not seemly that he should be ignorant of what was to happen. For he is introduced by Homer¹¹⁸ (who lived and wrote before the building of Rome) as predicting something great of the posterity of Æneas, who in fact founded Rome. And as Homer says, Neptune also rescued Æneas in a cloud from the wrath of Achilles, though (according to Virgil¹¹⁹)

First, why was Troy, or Ilium, the birthplace of the Roman people, conquered, captured, and destroyed by the Greeks? It honored and worshipped the same gods they did. I must not overlook or conceal what I mentioned in the first book¹¹⁶. Some answer that Priam was punished for his father Laomedon’s broken oath.¹¹⁷ If so, then Laomedon really did hire Apollo and Neptune as workers. The story says he promised them wages, then broke his promise. I wonder how Apollo, that famous prophet, worked on such a huge project without suspecting that Laomedon would cheat him. Neptune was Apollo’s uncle, Jupiter’s brother, and king of the sea. Surely he too should have known what was going to happen. Homer¹¹⁸, who lived and wrote before Rome was built, describes Neptune predicting a great future for Æneas’s descendants. They were the ones who founded Rome. Homer also says that Neptune rescued Æneas from Achilles’ anger by hiding him in a cloud, although, according to Virgil¹¹⁹

Gods, then, so great as Apollo and Neptune, in ignorance of the cheat that was to defraud them of their wages, built the walls of Troy for nothing but thanks and thankless people.¹²⁰ There may be some doubt whether it is not a worse crime to believe such persons to be gods, than to cheat such gods. Even Homer himself did not give full credence to the story; for while he represents Neptune, indeed, as hostile to the Trojans, he introduces Apollo as their champion, though the story implies that both were offended by that fraud. If, therefore, they believe their fables, let them blush to worship such gods; if they discredit the fables, let no more be said of the "Trojan perjury;" or let them explain how the gods hated Trojan, but loved Roman perjury. For how did the conspiracy of Catiline, even in so large and corrupt a city, find so abundant a supply of men whose hands and tongues found them a living by perjury and civic broils? What else but perjury corrupted the judgments pronounced by so many of the senators? What else corrupted the people's votes and decisions of all causes tried before them? For it seems that the ancient practice of taking oaths has been preserved even in the midst of the greatest corruption, not for the sake of restraining wickedness by religious fear, but to complete the tale of crimes by adding that of perjury.

So great were the gods Apollo and Neptune that they built Troy’s walls for nothing but thanks from ungrateful people. They did not know they would be cheated of their wages.¹²⁰ One might wonder whether believing such beings to be gods is a worse crime than cheating such gods. Even Homer himself did not fully believe the story. He portrays Neptune as hostile to the Trojans, but Apollo as their champion. Yet the story suggests that both were offended by the fraud. If they believe their myths, they should be ashamed to worship such gods. If they reject the myths, let them say no more about “Trojan perjury.” Or let them explain how the gods hated Trojan perjury but loved Roman perjury. Even in so large and corrupt a city, how did Catiline’s conspiracy find so many recruits who lived by perjury and civil strife? What else but perjury corrupted the judgments of so many senators? What else corrupted the people’s votes and their decisions in every case tried before them? It seems that the ancient practice of taking oaths has survived even amid the greatest corruption. It has survived not to restrain wickedness through religious fear, but to add perjury to the list of crimes.

3. That the gods could not be offended by the adultery of Paris, this crime being so common among themselves.

3. The gods could not have been offended by Paris's adultery, since they so often committed the same crime themselves.

There is no ground, then, for representing the gods (by whom, as they say, that empire stood, though they are proved to have been conquered by the Greeks) as being enraged at the Trojan perjury. Neither, as others again plead in their defence, was it indignation at the adultery of Paris that caused them to withdraw their protection from Troy. For their habit is to be instigators and instructors in vice, not its avengers. "The city of Rome," says Sallust, "was first built and inhabited, as I have heard, by the Trojans, who, flying their country, under the conduct of Æneas, wandered about without making any settlement."¹²¹ If, then, the gods were of opinion that the adultery of Paris should be punished, it was chiefly the Romans, or at least the Romans also, who should have suffered; for the adultery was brought about by Æneas' mother. But how could they hate in Paris a crime which they made no objection to in their own sister Venus, who (not to mention any other instance) committed adultery with Anchises, and so became the mother of Æneas? Is it because in the one case Menelaus¹²² was aggrieved, while in the other Vulcan¹²³ connived at the crime? For the gods, I fancy, are so little jealous of their wives, that they make no scruple of sharing them with men. But perhaps I may be suspected of turning the myths into ridicule, and not handling so weighty a subject with sufficient gravity. Well, then, let us say that Æneas is not the son of Venus. I am willing to I admit it; but is Romulus any more the son of Mars? For why not the one as well as the other? Or is it lawful for gods to have intercourse with women, unlawful for men to have intercourse with goddesses? A hard, or rather an incredible condition, that what was allowed to Mars by the law of Venus, should not be allowed to Venus herself by her own law. However, both cases have the authority of Rome; for Cæsar in modern times believed no less that he was descended from Venus,¹²⁴ than the ancient Romulus believed himself the son of Mars.

There is no reason, then, to say that the gods were angry at the Trojans for breaking their oath. People claim that Troy’s empire depended on these gods, though the Greeks proved they could defeat them. Others defend the gods by saying they withdrew their protection from Troy because they were outraged by Paris’s adultery. But the gods are in the habit of encouraging and teaching vice, not punishing it. “The city of Rome,” says Sallust, “was first built and inhabited, as I have heard, by the Trojans. They fled their country under the leadership of Aeneas and wandered without settling anywhere.”¹²¹ If the gods thought Paris’s adultery deserved punishment, the Romans should have suffered most, or at least suffered too. For Aeneas’s mother brought about that adultery. But how could the gods hate this crime in Paris when they raised no objection to it in their own sister Venus? She committed adultery with Anchises and became the mother of Aeneas, to mention just one example. Was it because Menelaus¹²² was wronged in the one case, while Vulcan¹²³ overlooked the crime in the other? For the gods, I suppose, are so unconcerned about their wives that they do not hesitate to share them with men. But perhaps I may be suspected of mocking the myths and treating such a serious subject too lightly. Very well, then, let us say that Aeneas is not the son of Venus. I am willing to admit it. But is Romulus any more the son of Mars? Why believe one claim and not the other? Or may gods have sex with women, but men not have sex with goddesses? It would be harsh, or rather unbelievable, if Venus’s own law allowed Mars what it did not allow Venus herself. In any case, Rome lends its authority to both claims. For Caesar, in more recent times, believed he was descended from Venus¹²⁴ no less than Romulus in ancient times believed himself the son of Mars.

4. Of Varro's opinion, that it is useful for men to feign themselves the offspring of the gods.

4. Varro's opinion that it is useful for people to pretend they are the offspring of the gods.

Some one will say, But do you believe all this? Not I indeed. For even Varro, a very learned heathen, all but admits that these stories are false, though he does not boldly and confidently say so. But he maintains it is useful for states that brave men believe, though falsely, that they are descended from the gods; for that thus the human spirit, cherishing the belief of its divine descent, will both more boldly venture into great enterprises, and will carry them out more energetically, and will therefore by its very confidence secure more abundant success. You see how wide a field is opened to falsehood by this opinion of Varro's, which I have expressed as well as I could in my own words; and how comprehensible it is, that many of the religions and sacred legends should be feigned in a community in which it was judged profitable for the citizens that lies should be told even about the gods themselves.

Someone may ask, “But do you believe all this?” No, I certainly do not. Even Varro, a very learned pagan, almost admits that these stories are false. Yet he does not say so boldly and confidently. He argues that it benefits states when brave men falsely believe they are descended from the gods. He says this belief in divine ancestry makes them more willing to undertake great enterprises. It also makes them carry these enterprises out more energetically. Their very confidence therefore brings them greater success. I have expressed Varro’s opinion in my own words, as well as I could. You can see how much room it leaves for falsehood. You can also understand how many religions and sacred legends could be invented in such a community. For there, people considered it useful for citizens to be told lies, even about the gods themselves.

But whether Venus could bear Æneas to a human father Anchises, or Mars beget Romulus of the daughter of Numitor, we leave as unsettled questions. For our own Scriptures suggest the very similar question, whether the fallen angels had sexual intercourse with the daughters of men, by which the earth was at that time filled with giants, that is, with enormously large and strong men. At present, then, I will limit my discussion to this dilemma: If that which their books relate about the mother of Æneas and the father of Romulus be true, how can the gods be displeased with men for adulteries which, when committed by themselves, excite no displeasure? If it is false, not even in this case can the gods be angry that men should really commit adulteries, which, even when falsely attributed to the gods, they delight in. Moreover, if the adultery of Mars be discredited, that Venus also may be freed from the imputation, then the mother of Romulus is left unshielded by the pretext of a divine seduction. For Sylvia was a vestal priestess, and the gods ought to avenge this sacrilege on the Romans with greater severity than Paris' adultery on the Trojans. For even the Romans themselves in primitive times used to go so far as to bury alive any vestal who was detected in adultery, while women unconsecrated, though they were punished, were never punished with death for that crime; and thus they more earnestly vindicated the purity of shrines they esteemed divine, than of the human bed.

I leave these questions unsettled. Could Venus bear Aeneas to a human father, Anchises? Could Mars father Romulus by the daughter of Numitor? Our own Scriptures raise a very similar question. Did fallen angels have sexual relations with the daughters of men? Was the earth then filled with giants, that is, enormously large and strong men, as a result? For now, I will limit my discussion to this dilemma. Suppose their books tell the truth about Aeneas’s mother and Romulus’s father. How can the gods be displeased with people for adultery when they feel no displeasure at committing it themselves? But suppose the stories are false. Even then, the gods cannot be angry with people for actually committing adultery. For they delight in adultery even when it is falsely attributed to themselves. Suppose, moreover, that the story of Mars’s adultery is rejected, so that Venus too may be cleared of the charge. Then Romulus’s mother can no longer claim to have been seduced by a god. Sylvia was a Vestal priestess, and the gods ought to punish the Romans for this sacrilege. They ought to punish them more severely than they punished the Trojans for Paris’s adultery. For in early times, the Romans themselves even buried alive any Vestal caught in adultery. Women who were not consecrated were punished for that crime, but never with death. Thus the Romans defended the purity of shrines they considered divine more fiercely than the purity of the marriage bed.

6. That the gods exacted no penalty for the fratricidal act of Romulus.

6. The gods did not punish Romulus for killing his brother.

I add another instance: If the sins of men so greatly incensed those divinities, that they abandoned Troy to fire and sword to punish the crime of Paris, the murder of Romulus' brother ought to have incensed them more against the Romans than the cajoling of a Greek husband moved them against the Trojans: fratricide in a newly-born city should have provoked them more than adultery in a city already flourishing. It makes no difference to the question we now discuss, whether Romulus ordered his brother to be slain, or slew him with his own hand; a crime this latter which many shamelessly deny, many through shame doubt, many in grief disguise. And we shall not pause to examine and weigh the testimonies of historical writers on the subject. All agree that the brother of Romulus was slain, not by enemies, not by strangers. If it was Romulus who either commanded or perpetrated this crime; Romulus was more truly the head of the Romans than Paris of the Trojans; why then did he who carried off another man's wife bring down the anger of the gods on the Trojans, while he who took his brother's life obtained the guardianship of those same gods? If, on the other hand, that crime was not wrought either by the hand or will of Romulus, then the whole city is chargeable with it, because it did not see to its punishment, and thus committed, not fratricide, but parricide, which is worse. For both brothers were the founders of that city, of which the one was by villany prevented from being a ruler. So far as I see, then, no evil can be ascribed to Troy which warranted the gods in abandoning it to destruction, nor any good to Rome which accounts for the gods visiting it with prosperity; unless the truth be, that they fled from Troy because they were vanquished, and betook themselves to Rome to practise their characteristic deceptions there. Nevertheless they kept a footing for themselves in Troy, that they might deceive future inhabitants who repeopled these lands; while at Rome, by a wider exercise of their malignant arts, they exulted in more abundant honours.

I offer another example. The gods supposedly became so angry at human sins that they abandoned Troy to fire and sword. They did this to punish Paris for his crime. If so, the murder of Romulus’ brother should have angered them more against the Romans than Paris’ deception of a Greek husband angered them against the Trojans. Fratricide in a newborn city should have provoked them more than adultery in a flourishing city. For the question before us, it makes no difference whether Romulus ordered his brother killed or killed him himself. Many shamelessly deny that he killed him, many doubt it out of shame, and many disguise it out of grief. We will not pause to examine and weigh the accounts of historians. All agree that Romulus’ brother was killed, not by enemies or strangers. Suppose Romulus either ordered or committed this crime. Romulus was more truly the head of the Romans than Paris was of the Trojans. Why, then, did the man who carried off another man’s wife bring the gods’ anger upon the Trojans? And why did the man who killed his brother gain the protection of those same gods? Suppose, on the other hand, that Romulus neither committed nor ordered the crime. Then the whole city is responsible because it failed to punish it. In this way, the city committed not fratricide, but parricide, which is worse. Both brothers founded the city, yet one was wickedly prevented from ruling it. As far as I can see, then, no evil can be blamed on Troy that justified the gods in abandoning it to destruction. Nor can any good be credited to Rome that explains why the gods brought it prosperity. Unless, that is, the truth is that they fled Troy because they were defeated. They then went to Rome to practice their usual deceptions there. Even so, they kept a foothold in Troy, so they could deceive future inhabitants who resettled those lands. At Rome, they practiced their malicious arts more widely and rejoiced in receiving greater honors.

7. Of the destruction of Ilium by Fimbria, a lieutenant of Marius.

7. The destruction of Ilium by Fimbria, a lieutenant of Marius.

And surely we may ask what wrong poor Ilium had done, that, in the first heat of the civil wars of Rome, it should suffer at the hand of Fimbria, the veriest villain among Marius' partisans, a more fierce and cruel destruction than the Grecian sack.¹²⁵ For when the Greeks took it many escaped, and many who did not escape were suffered to live, though in captivity. But Fimbria from the first gave orders that not a life should be spared, and burnt up together the city and all its inhabitants. Thus was Ilium requited, not by the Greeks, whom she had provoked by wrong-doing; but by the Romans, who had been built out of her ruins; while the gods, adored alike of both sides, did simply nothing, or, to speak more correctly, could do nothing. Is it then true, that at this time also, after Troy had repaired the damage done by the Grecian fire, all the gods by whose help the kingdom stood, "forsook each fane, each sacred shrine?"

Surely we may ask what wrong poor Ilium had done. Why, at the start of Rome’s civil wars, did it suffer destruction even fiercer and crueler than the Greek sack? Fimbria, the worst villain among Marius’ followers, destroyed it.¹²⁵ When the Greeks took the city, many escaped. Many who did not escape were allowed to live, though as captives. But from the start, Fimbria ordered that no one be spared. He burned the city and all its inhabitants together. This was how Ilium was repaid. It was not repaid by the Greeks, whom it had provoked by wrongdoing. It was repaid by the Romans, whose city had been built from its ruins. The gods, worshiped by both sides, simply did nothing. Or, more accurately, they could do nothing. Was it true then that, after Troy had repaired the damage from the Greek fire, all the gods who upheld its kingdom had once again “forsaken every temple, every sacred shrine”?

But if so, I ask the reason; for in my judgment, the conduct of the gods was as much to be reprobated as that of the townsmen to be applauded. For these closed their gates against Fimbria, that they might preserve the city for Sylla, and were therefore burnt and consumed by the enraged general. Now, up to this time, Sylla's cause was the more worthy of the two; for till now he used arms to restore the republic, and as yet his good intentions had met with no reverses. What better thing, then, could the Trojans have done? What more honourable, what more faithful to Rome, or more worthy of her relationship, than to preserve their city for the better part of the Romans, and to shut their gates against a parricide of his country? It is for the defenders of the gods to consider the ruin which this conduct brought on Troy. The gods deserted an adulterous people, and abandoned Troy to the fires of the Greeks, that out of her ashes a chaster Rome might arise. But why did they a second time abandon this same town, allied now to Rome, and not making war upon her noble daughter, but preserving a most stedfast and pious fidelity to Rome's most justifiable faction? Why did they give her up to be destroyed, not by the Greek heroes, but by the basest of the Romans? Or, if the gods did not favour Sylla's cause, for which the unhappy Trojans maintained their city, why did they themselves predict and promise Sylla such successes? Must we call them flatterers of the fortunate, rather than helpers of the wretched? Troy was not destroyed, then, because the gods deserted it. For the demons, always watchful to deceive, did what they could. For, when all the statues were overthrown and burnt together with the town, Livy tells us that only the image of Minerva is said to have been found standing uninjured amidst the ruins of her temple; not that it might be said in their praise, "The gods who made this realm divine," but that it might not be said in their defence, They are "gone from each fane, each sacred shrine:" for that marvel was permitted to them, not that they might be proved to be powerful, but that they might be convicted of being present.

But if so, I ask why. In my judgment, the gods’ conduct deserved as much condemnation as the townspeople’s deserved praise. The people of Troy closed their gates against Fimbria to preserve the city for Sulla. For this, the enraged general burned and destroyed them. At that time, Sulla’s cause was the more worthy of the two. Until then, he had used arms to restore the republic, and his good intentions had met with no setbacks. What better thing could the Trojans have done? What could have been more honorable, more faithful to Rome, or more worthy of their relationship to her? They preserved their city for the better faction among the Romans. They closed their gates against a man who had murdered his own country. Let the defenders of the gods consider the ruin this conduct brought upon Troy. The gods deserted a people guilty of adultery and abandoned Troy to the fires of the Greeks. They did this so that a more chaste Rome might rise from her ashes. But why did they abandon the same city a second time? Troy was now allied with Rome. She was not making war on her noble daughter, but remained steadfastly and faithfully loyal to Rome’s most justifiable faction. Why did the gods give her up to destruction, not by Greek heroes, but by the basest of the Romans? If the gods did not favor Sulla’s cause, for which the unhappy Trojans held their city, why did they predict and promise him such success? Must we call them flatterers of the fortunate rather than helpers of the wretched? Troy was not destroyed because the gods deserted it. The demons, always alert to deceive, did what they could. All the statues were overturned and burned along with the city. Yet Livy tells us that the image of Minerva alone is said to have been found standing unharmed among her temple’s ruins. This did not happen so that anyone could praise them by saying, "The gods who made this realm divine," but so that no one could defend them by saying, They are "gone from each fane, each sacred shrine:" They were permitted this marvel not to prove their power, but to convict them of being present.

8. Whether Rome ought to have been entrusted to the Trojan gods?

8. Should Rome have been entrusted to the Trojan gods?

Where, then, was the wisdom of entrusting Rome to the Trojan gods, who had demonstrated their weakness in the loss of Troy? Will some one say that, when Fimbria stormed Troy, the gods were already resident in Rome? How, then, did the image of Minerva remain standing? Besides, if they were at Rome when Fimbria destroyed Troy, perhaps they were at Troy when Rome itself was taken and set on fire by the Gauls. But as they are very acute in hearing, and very swift in their movements, they came quickly at the cackling of the goose to defend at least the Capitol, though to defend the rest of the city they were too long in being warned.

Why, then, was it wise to entrust Rome to the Trojan gods? They had already shown their weakness by allowing Troy to fall. Will someone say that the gods were already living in Rome when Fimbria stormed Troy? If so, how did the statue of Minerva remain standing? Besides, if they were in Rome when Fimbria destroyed Troy, perhaps they were in Troy when the Gauls captured and burned Rome itself. But their hearing is very sharp, and they move very quickly. So they came quickly when the goose cackled, at least in time to defend the Capitol. They were warned too late, however, to defend the rest of the city.

9. Whether it is credible that the peace during the reign of Numa was brought about by the gods.

9. Whether it is believable that the gods brought peace during Numa's reign.

It is also believed that it was by the help of the gods that the successor of Romulus, Numa Pompilius, enjoyed peace during his entire reign, and shut the gates of Janus, which are customarily kept open¹²⁶ during war. And it is supposed he was thus requited for appointing many religious observances among the Romans. Certainly that king would have commanded our congratulations for so rare a leisure, had he been wise enough to spend it on wholesome pursuits, and, subduing a pernicious curiosity, had sought out the true God with true piety. But as it was, the gods were not the authors of his leisure; but possibly they would have deceived him less had they found him busier. For the more disengaged they found him, the more they themselves occupied his attention. Varro informs us of all his efforts, and of the arts he employed to associate these gods with himself and the city; and in its own place, if God will, I shall discuss these matters. Meanwhile, as we are speaking of the benefits conferred by the gods, I readily admit that peace is a great benefit; but it is a benefit of the true God, which, like the sun, the rain, and other supports of life, is frequently conferred on the ungrateful and wicked. But if this great boon was conferred on Rome and Pompilius by their gods, why did they never afterwards grant it to the Roman empire during even more meritorious periods? Were the sacred rites more efficient at their first institution than during their subsequent celebration? But they had no existence in Numa's time, until he added them to the ritual; whereas afterwards they had already been celebrated and preserved, that benefit might arise from them. How, then, is it that those forty-three, or as others prefer it, thirty-nine years of Numa's reign, were passed in unbroken peace, and yet that afterwards, when the worship was established, and the gods themselves, who were invoked by it, were the recognised guardians and patrons of the city, we can with difficulty find during the whole period, from the building of the city to the reign of Augustus, one year—that, viz., which followed the close of the first Punic war—in which, for a marvel, the Romans were able to shut the gates of war?¹²⁷

It is also believed that the gods helped Numa Pompilius, the successor of Romulus, enjoy peace throughout his reign. He closed the gates of Janus, which were customarily kept open¹²⁶ during war. People suppose that the gods rewarded him this way because he established many religious observances among the Romans. That king would certainly deserve our congratulations for such a rare period of leisure, if he had used it wisely. He should have devoted it to wholesome pursuits, overcome his harmful curiosity, and sought the true God with genuine devotion. But the gods were not the source of his leisure. Perhaps they would have deceived him less if they had found him busier. The more free time he had, the more they occupied his attention. Varro tells us of all Numa’s efforts and the methods he used to associate these gods with himself and the city. In its proper place, God willing, I will discuss these matters. Meanwhile, since we are speaking of the benefits the gods bestowed, I readily admit that peace is a great benefit. But it is a gift of the true God. Like the sun, the rain, and other necessities of life, it is often given to the ungrateful and the wicked. But if their gods gave this great gift to Rome and Pompilius, why did they never again give it to the Roman empire during even more deserving periods? Were the sacred rites more effective when first established than when later performed? Those rites did not exist in Numa’s time until he added them to the religious practices. Afterward, they had been performed and preserved so that benefits might come from them. How, then, did Numa’s reign of forty-three years, or thirty-nine according to others, pass in unbroken peace? Afterward, the worship was established, and the gods invoked through it were recognized as the city’s guardians and protectors. Yet, from the city’s founding to the reign of Augustus, we can hardly find a single year when the Romans were able to close the gates of war. That remarkable year followed the end of the first Punic war.¹²⁷

Do they reply that the Roman empire could never have been so widely extended, nor so glorious, save by constant and unintermitting wars? A fit argument, truly! Why must a kingdom be distracted in order to be great? In this little world of man's body, is it not better to have a moderate stature, and health with it, than to attain the huge dimensions of a giant by unnatural torments, and when you attain it to find no rest, but to be pained the more in proportion to the size of your members? What evil would have resulted, or rather what good would not have resulted, had those times continued which Sallust sketched, when he says, "At first the kings (for that was the first title of empire in the world) were divided in their sentiments: part cultivated the mind, others the body: at that time the life of men was led without covetousness; every one was sufficiently satisfied with his own!"¹²⁸ Was it requisite, then, for Rome's prosperity, that the state of things which Virgil reprobates should succeed:

Do they answer that the Roman empire could never have grown so large or become so glorious without constant wars? A fine argument indeed! Why must a kingdom be troubled in order to be great? Consider the small world of the human body. Is it not better to be of moderate size and healthy? Is that not better than growing as huge as a giant through unnatural suffering? Once grown, the giant finds no rest. Instead, the larger his limbs, the greater his pain. What harm would have come if those times described by Sallust had continued? Indeed, what good would not have come? He says, "At first, kings ruled the world. That was the first title held by rulers. They had different interests. Some cultivated the mind, others the body. In those days, people lived without greed. Everyone was content enough with what they had!"¹²⁸ Was it necessary for Rome's prosperity that the state of affairs Virgil condemns should follow:

But obviously the Romans have a plausible defence for undertaking and carrying on such disastrous wars,—to wit, that the pressure of their enemies forced them to resist, so that they were compelled to fight, not by any greed of human applause, but by the necessity of protecting life and liberty. Well, let that pass. Here is Sallust's account of the matter: "For when their state, enriched with laws, institutions, territory, seemed abundantly prosperous and sufficiently powerful, according to the ordinary law of human nature, opulence gave birth to envy. Accordingly, the neighbouring kings and states took arms and assaulted them. A few allies lent assistance; the rest, struck with fear, kept aloof from dangers. But the Romans, watchful at home and in war, were active, made preparations, encouraged one another, marched to meet their enemies,—protected by arms their liberty, country, parents. Afterwards, when they had repelled the dangers by their bravery, they carried help to their allies and friends, and procured alliances more by conferring than by receiving favours."¹³⁰ This was to build up Rome's greatness by honourable means. But, in Numa's reign, I would know whether the long peace was maintained in spite of the incursions of wicked neighbours, or if these incursions were discontinued that the peace might be maintained? For if even then Rome was harassed by wars, and yet did not meet force with force, the same means she then used to quiet her enemies without conquering them in war, or terrifying them with the onset of battle, she might have used always, and have reigned in peace with the gates of Janus shut. And if this was not in her power, then Rome enjoyed peace not at the will of her gods, but at the will of her neighbours round about, and only so long as they cared to provoke her with no war, unless perhaps these pitiful gods will dare to sell to one man as their favour what lies not in their power to bestow, but in the will of another man. These demons, indeed, in so far as they are permitted, can terrify or incite the minds of wicked men by their own peculiar wickedness. But if they always had this power, and if no action were taken against their efforts by a more secret and higher power, they would be supreme to give peace or the victories of war, which almost always fall out through some human emotion, and frequently in opposition to the will of the gods, as is proved not only by lying legends, which scarcely hint or signify any grain of truth, but even by Roman history itself.

The Romans plainly have a plausible defense for starting and carrying on such disastrous wars. They say that pressure from their enemies forced them to resist. They had to fight, not because they craved human praise, but because they needed to protect their lives and liberty. Well, let that pass. Here is Sallust's account: "Their state had grown rich in laws, institutions, and territory. It seemed very prosperous and strong enough for its needs. As often happens in human affairs, its wealth gave rise to envy. Neighboring kings and states therefore took up arms and attacked them. A few allies helped, while the rest were afraid and stayed away from danger. But the Romans were watchful at home and in war. They were active, made preparations, encouraged one another, and marched out to meet their enemies. They defended their liberty, country, and parents by force of arms. After their courage had driven back the dangers, they helped their allies and friends. They gained alliances more by doing favors than by receiving them."¹³⁰ This was an honorable way to build Rome's greatness. But I would like to know how the long peace during Numa's reign was maintained. Did wicked neighbors continue to raid Rome despite the peace? Or did they stop their attacks so that the peace could continue? If Rome was troubled by wars even then, yet did not meet force with force, she could always have done the same. She could have used the same means to calm her enemies without conquering them or frightening them by going into battle. She could then have enjoyed peace with the gates of Janus shut. But if this was beyond her power, Rome enjoyed peace only at the will of her neighbors, not her gods. It lasted only as long as those neighbors chose not to provoke her with war. Perhaps these pitiful gods will dare to claim as their favor something they have no power to grant. It depends instead on another person's will. These demons can indeed, when they are permitted, frighten or stir up the minds of wicked people through their own particular wickedness. But suppose they always had this power and no more hidden and higher power acted against their efforts. Then they would have supreme power to grant peace or victory in war. Yet these outcomes almost always arise through some human emotion. They also frequently go against the will of the gods. This is shown not only by lying legends, which barely hint at any trace of truth, but also by Roman history itself.

11. Of the statue of Apollo at Cumæ, whose tears are supposed to have portended disaster to the Greeks, whom the god was unable to succour.

11. The statue of Apollo at Cumae, whose tears were thought to foretell disaster for the Greeks, whom the god could not help.

And it is still this weakness of the gods which is confessed in the story of the Cuman Apollo, who is said to have wept for four days during the war with the Achæans and King Aristonicus. And when the augurs were alarmed at the portent, and had determined to cast the statue into the sea, the old men of Cumæ interposed, and related that a similar prodigy had occurred to the same image during the wars against Antiochus and against Perseus, and that by a decree of the senate gifts had been presented to Apollo, because the event had proved favourable to the Romans. Then soothsayers were summoned who were supposed to have greater professional skill, and they pronounced that the weeping of Apollo's image was propitious to the Romans, because Cumæ was a Greek colony, and that Apollo was bewailing (and thereby presaging) the grief and calamity that was about to light upon his own land of Greece, from which he had been brought. Shortly afterwards it was reported that King Aristonicus was defeated and made prisoner,—a defeat certainly opposed to the will of Apollo; and this he indicated by even shedding tears from his marble image. And this shows us that, though the verses of the poets are mythical, they are not altogether devoid of truth, but describe the manners of the demons in a sufficiently fit style. For in Virgil Diana mourned for Camilla,¹³¹ and Hercules wept for Pallas doomed to die.¹³² This is perhaps the reason why Numa Pompilius, too, when, enjoying prolonged peace, but without knowing or inquiring from whom he received it, he began in his leisure to consider to what gods he should entrust the safe keeping and conduct of Rome, and not dreaming that the true, almighty, and most high God cares for earthly affairs, but recollecting only that the Trojan gods which Æneas had brought to Italy had been able to preserve neither the Trojan nor Lavinian kingdom founded by Æneas himself, concluded that he must provide other gods as guardians of fugitives and helpers of the weak, and add them to those earlier divinities who had either come over to Rome with Romulus, or when Alba was destroyed.

This same weakness of the gods is acknowledged in the story of Apollo at Cumae. His statue is said to have wept for four days during the war with the Achaeans and King Aristonicus. The augurs were alarmed by this omen and decided to throw the statue into the sea. But the elders of Cumae intervened. They reported that the same image had shown a similar wonder during the wars against Antiochus and Perseus. The senate had then ordered gifts to be presented to Apollo, because the outcome had favored the Romans. So they summoned soothsayers who were thought to be more skilled. These declared that the weeping of Apollo’s image was a good sign for the Romans, since Cumae was a Greek colony. Apollo, they said, was mourning the grief and disaster about to fall on his own land of Greece, from which he had been brought. His tears foretold these events. Soon afterward, news came that King Aristonicus had been defeated and captured. This defeat was certainly against Apollo’s wishes, as he showed by shedding tears from his marble image. This shows us that, although the poets’ stories are mythical, they are not entirely without truth. They describe the ways of demons in a fitting style. For in Virgil, Diana mourned for Camilla,¹³¹ and Hercules wept for Pallas, who was doomed to die.¹³² This may also explain what Numa Pompilius did. He enjoyed a long peace, but did not know or ask who had given it to him. During this peaceful time, he began to consider which gods should protect and guide Rome. He never imagined that the true, almighty, and most high God cares about earthly affairs. Instead, he remembered that the Trojan gods Aeneas had brought to Italy had saved neither Troy nor the kingdom of Lavinium, which Aeneas himself had founded. So he concluded that he must provide other gods to guard fugitives and help the weak. He would add them to the earlier gods who had come to Rome with Romulus or after Alba was destroyed.

12. That the Romans added a vast number of gods to those introduced by Numa, and that their numbers helped them not at all.

12. The Romans added many gods to those introduced by Numa, but their numbers did not help them at all.

But though Pompilius introduced so ample a ritual, yet did not Rome see fit to be content with it. For as yet Jupiter himself had not his chief temple,—it being King Tarquin who built the Capitol. And Æsculapius left Epidaurus for Rome, that in this foremost city he might have a finer field for the exercise of his great medical skill.¹³³ The mother of the gods, too, came I know not whence from Pessinuns; it being unseemly that, while her son presided on the Capitoline hill, she herself should lie hid in obscurity. But if she is the mother of all the gods, she not only followed some of her children to Rome, but left others to follow her. I wonder, indeed, if she were the mother of Cynocephalus, who a long while afterwards came from Egypt. Whether also the goddess Fever was her offspring, is a matter for her grandson Æsculapius¹³⁴ to decide. But of whatever breed she be, the foreign gods will not presume, I trust, to call a goddess base-born who is a Roman citizen. Who can number the deities to whom the guardianship of Rome was entrusted? Indigenous and imported, both of heaven, earth, hell, seas, fountains, rivers; and, as Varro says, gods certain and uncertain, male and female: for, as among animals, so among all kinds of gods are there these distinctions. Rome, then, enjoying the protection of such a cloud of deities, might surely have been preserved from some of those great and horrible calamities, of which I can mention but a few. For by the great smoke of her altars she summoned to her protection, as by a beacon-fire, a host of gods, for whom she appointed and maintained temples, altars, sacrifices, priests, and thus offended the true and most high God, to whom alone all this ceremonial is lawfully due. And, indeed, she was more prosperous when she had fewer gods; but the greater she became, the more gods she thought she should have, as the larger ship needs to be manned by a larger crew. I suppose she despaired of the smaller number, under whose protection she had spent comparatively happy days, being able to defend her greatness. For even under the kings (with the exception of Numa Pompilius, of whom I have already spoken), how wicked a contentiousness must have existed to occasion the death of Romulus' brother!

Although Pompilius introduced such an extensive set of religious rites, Rome did not think it was enough. Jupiter himself still lacked his chief temple. King Tarquin later built the Capitol. Aesculapius left Epidaurus for Rome, so that in this great city he might have a better field for his medical skills.¹³³ The mother of the gods also came from Pessinus, though I do not know exactly where. It would have been improper for her to remain hidden while her son presided on the Capitoline Hill. But if she is the mother of all the gods, she followed some of her children to Rome. She also left others behind to follow her. I wonder whether she was the mother of Cynocephalus, who came from Egypt much later. Whether the goddess Fever was also her offspring is for her grandson Aesculapius¹³⁴ to decide. But whatever her origins, I trust the foreign gods will not dare call a Roman citizen lowborn. Who can count the deities entrusted with guarding Rome? Some were native and others imported. They included gods of heaven, earth, the underworld, the seas, springs, and rivers. As Varro says, there were gods known and unknown, male and female. For all kinds of gods have these distinctions, just as animals do. Protected by such a host of deities, Rome surely could have been spared some great and terrible disasters. I can mention only a few of them. The thick smoke from her altars summoned a host of gods to protect her, like a beacon fire. She provided and maintained temples, altars, sacrifices, and priests for them. In doing so, she offended the true and most high God, to whom alone all these rites are rightly due. Indeed, Rome was more prosperous when she had fewer gods. But the greater she became, the more gods she thought she needed. A larger ship, after all, needs a larger crew. I suppose she lost hope that the smaller number could defend her greatness. Yet under their protection she had enjoyed comparatively happy days. Even under the kings, though, there must have been wicked conflict to cause the death of Romulus’ brother. Numa Pompilius, whom I have already discussed, was an exception among those kings.

13. By what right or agreement the Romans obtained their first wives.

13. By what right or agreement the Romans obtained their first wives.

How is it that neither Juno, who with her husband Jupiter even then cherished

How is it that neither Juno, who even then cherished, along with her husband Jupiter,

nor Venus herself, could assist the children of the loved Æneas to find wives by some right and equitable means? For the lack of this entailed upon the Romans the lamentable necessity of stealing their wives, and then waging war with their fathers-in-law; so that the wretched women, before they had recovered from the wrong done them by their husbands, were dowried with the blood of their fathers. "But the Romans conquered their neighbours." Yes; but with what wounds on both sides, and with what sad slaughter of relatives and neighbours! The war of Cæsar and Pompey was the contest of only one father-in-law with one son-in-law; and before it began, the daughter of Cæsar, Pompey's wife, was already dead. But with how keen and just an accent of grief does Lucan¹³⁶ exclaim: "I sing that worse than civil war waged in the plains of Emathia, and in which the crime was justified by the victory!"

Could not even Venus help the descendants of her beloved Aeneas find wives by some fair and honorable means? Without such help, the Romans faced the terrible necessity of stealing their wives and then fighting their fathers-in-law. Before the miserable women had recovered from the wrong their husbands had done them, their dowries were paid in their fathers' blood. "But the Romans defeated their neighbors." Yes, but how many on both sides were wounded! How tragically relatives and neighbors slaughtered one another! The war between Caesar and Pompey was a fight between just one father-in-law and one son-in-law. Before it began, Caesar's daughter, Pompey's wife, was already dead. Yet how deeply and justly Lucan¹³⁶ grieves when he cries: "I sing of that war, worse than civil war, fought on the plains of Emathia, where victory justified the crime!"

The Romans, then, conquered that they might, with hands stained in the blood of their fathers-in-law, wrench the miserable girls from their embrace,—girls who dared not weep for their slain parents, for fear of offending their victorious husbands; and while yet the battle was raging, stood with their prayers on their lips, and knew not for whom to utter them. Such nuptials were certainly prepared for the Roman people not by Venus, but Bellona; or possibly that infernal fury Alecto had more liberty to injure them now that Juno was aiding them, than when the prayers of that goddess had excited her against Æneas. Andromache in captivity was happier than these Roman brides. For though she was a slave, yet, after she had become the wife of Pyrrhus, no more Trojans fell by his hand; but the Romans slew in battle the very fathers of the brides they fondled. Andromache, the victor's captive, could only mourn, not fear, the death of her people. The Sabine women, related to men still combatants, feared the death of their fathers when their husbands went out to battle, and mourned their death as they returned, while neither their grief nor their fear could be freely expressed. For the victories of their husbands, involving the destruction of fellow-townsmen, relatives, brothers, fathers, caused either pious agony or cruel exultation. Moreover, as the fortune of war is capricious, some of them lost their husbands by the sword of their parents, while others lost husband and father together in mutual destruction. For the Romans by no means escaped with impunity, but they were driven back within their walls, and defended themselves behind closed gates; and when the gates were opened by guile, and the enemy admitted into the town, the Forum itself was the field of a hateful and fierce engagement of fathers-in-law and sons-in-law. The ravishers were indeed quite defeated, and, flying on all sides to their houses, sullied with new shame their original shameful and lamentable triumph. It was at this juncture that Romulus, hoping no more from the valour of his citizens, prayed Jupiter that they might stand their ground; and from this occasion the god gained the name of Stator. But not even thus would the mischief have been finished, had not the ravished women themselves flashed out with dishevelled hair, and cast themselves before their parents, and thus disarmed their just rage, not with the arms of victory, but with the supplications of filial affection. Then Romulus, who could not brook his own brother as a colleague, was compelled to accept Titus Tatius, king of the Sabines, as his partner on the throne. But how long would he who misliked the fellowship of his own twin-brother endure a stranger? So, Tatius being slain, Romulus remained sole king, that he might be the greater god. See what rights of marriage these were that fomented unnatural wars. These were the Roman leagues of kindred, relationship, alliance, religion. This was the life of the city so abundantly protected by the gods. You see how many severe things might be said on this theme; but our purpose carries us past them, and requires our discourse for other matters.

The Romans conquered so they could tear the miserable girls from their fathers’ embrace, their hands stained with their fathers-in-law’s blood. The girls dared not weep for their murdered parents, for fear of offending their victorious husbands. While the battle still raged, they stood ready to pray, but did not know for whom to pray. Surely Venus did not prepare such marriages for the Roman people. Bellona did. Or perhaps the infernal fury Alecto had more freedom to harm them now that Juno was helping them. She had less freedom when that goddess’s prayers stirred her up against Aeneas. Andromache was happier in captivity than these Roman brides. Though she was a slave, no more Trojans fell by Pyrrhus’s hand after she became his wife. But the Romans killed in battle the very fathers of the brides they embraced. Andromache, captive of the victor, could only mourn the deaths of her people. She no longer had to fear for them. The Sabine women, whose relatives were still fighting, feared for their fathers’ lives when their husbands went to battle. They mourned their fathers’ deaths when their husbands returned. They could freely express neither their grief nor their fear. Their husbands’ victories destroyed their fellow citizens, relatives, brothers, and fathers. These victories could bring only the anguish of family loyalty or cruel rejoicing. Moreover, the fortunes of war are unpredictable. Some women lost their husbands to their parents’ swords. Others lost both husband and father when the two killed each other. For the Romans did not escape unscathed. They were driven back within their walls and defended themselves behind closed gates. Then the gates were opened by trickery, and the enemy entered the city. The Forum itself became the site of a hateful and fierce battle between fathers-in-law and sons-in-law. The abductors were utterly defeated and fled in every direction to their homes. This new disgrace stained their original, shameful, and lamentable triumph. At this point, Romulus no longer trusted in his citizens’ courage. He prayed to Jupiter that they might stand their ground. From this event the god gained the name Stator, meaning “the one who makes men stand.” But even then the harm would not have ended had the abducted women themselves not rushed out, their hair disheveled. They threw themselves before their parents. They disarmed their parents’ just anger, not with victorious weapons, but with the pleas of loving daughters. Then Romulus, who could not bear to share power with his own brother, was forced to share the throne with Titus Tatius, king of the Sabines. But how long would a man who disliked sharing power with his own twin brother tolerate a stranger? So Tatius was killed, and Romulus remained sole king, so that he might be the greater god. See what marriage rights these were, which stirred up unnatural wars. These were the Roman bonds of family, kinship, alliance, and religion. This was life in a city so richly protected by the gods. You can see how many harsh things might be said on this subject. But our purpose takes us beyond them and requires us to discuss other matters.

14. Of the wickedness of the war waged by the Romans against the Albans, and of the victories won by the lust of power.

14. On the evil of the Romans' war against the Albans, and the victories won through the lust for power.

But what happened after Numa's reign, and under the other kings, when the Albans were provoked into war, with sad results not to themselves alone, but also to the Romans? The long peace of Numa had become tedious; and with what endless slaughter and detriment of both states did the Roman and Alban armies bring it to an end! For Alba, which had been founded by Ascanius, son of Æneas, and which was more properly the mother of Rome than Troy herself, was provoked to battle by Tullus Hostilius, king of Rome, and in the conflict both inflicted and received such damage, that at length both parties wearied of the struggle. It was then devised that the war should be decided by the combat of three twin-brothers from each army: from the Romans the three Horatii stood forward, from the Albans the three Curiatii. Two of the Horatii were overcome and disposed of by the Curiatii; but by the remaining Horatius the three Curiatii were slain. Thus Rome remained victorious, but with such a sacrifice that only one survivor returned to his home. Whose was the loss on both sides? Whose the grief, but of the offspring of Æneas, the descendants of Ascanius, the progeny of Venus, the grandsons of Jupiter? For this, too, was a "worse than civil" war, in which the belligerent states were mother and daughter. And to this combat of the three twin-brothers there was added another atrocious and horrible catastrophe. For as the two nations had formerly been friendly (being related and neighbours), the sister of the Horatii had been betrothed to one of the Curiatii; and she, when she saw her brother wearing the spoils of her betrothed, burst into tears, and was slain by her own brother in his anger. To me, this one girl seems to have been more humane than the whole Roman people. I cannot think her to blame for lamenting the man to whom already she had plighted her troth, or, as perhaps she was doing, for grieving that her brother should have slain him to whom he had promised his sister. For why do we praise the grief of Æneas (in Virgil¹³⁷) over the enemy cut down even by his own hand? Why did Marcellus shed tears over the city of Syracuse, when he recollected, just before he destroyed, its magnificence and meridian glory, and thought upon the common lot of all things? I demand, in the name of humanity, that if men are praised for tears shed over enemies conquered by themselves, a weak girl should not be counted criminal for bewailing her lover slaughtered by the hand of her brother. While, then, that maiden was weeping for the death of her betrothed inflicted by her brother's hand, Rome was rejoicing that such devastation had been wrought on her mother state, and that she had purchased a victory with such an expenditure of the common blood of herself and the Albans.

But what happened after Numa’s reign, under the other kings? The Albans were provoked into war, with tragic results for both themselves and the Romans. Numa’s long peace had become tiresome. The Roman and Alban armies ended it with endless slaughter and damage to both states. Alba had been founded by Ascanius, the son of Aeneas. It was more truly the mother of Rome than Troy itself. Yet Tullus Hostilius, the king of Rome, provoked Alba into battle. Both sides inflicted and suffered such losses that they eventually grew weary of fighting. They then decided to settle the war through combat between three brothers from each army. The three Horatii stepped forward for the Romans, and the three Curiatii for the Albans. The Curiatii defeated and killed two of the Horatii. But the surviving Horatius killed all three Curiatii. Rome was victorious, but at such a cost that only one survivor returned home. Who suffered the losses on both sides? Who felt the grief? It was the children of Aeneas, the descendants of Ascanius, the offspring of Venus, the grandsons of Jupiter. This, too, was a “worse than civil” war, for the states fighting each other were mother and daughter. Another dreadful and horrible tragedy followed the combat between the two sets of three brothers. The two nations had once been friendly, as relatives and neighbors. The sister of the Horatii had been betrothed to one of the Curiatii. When she saw her brother wearing the spoils taken from her betrothed, she burst into tears. In his anger, her own brother killed her. To me, this one girl seems to have been more humane than the whole Roman people. I cannot blame her for mourning the man to whom she had already pledged herself. Perhaps she was grieving that her brother had killed the man to whom he had promised his sister. Why, then, do we praise Aeneas’s grief in Virgil¹³⁷ for the enemy he himself killed? Why did Marcellus weep over the city of Syracuse? Just before destroying it, he remembered its magnificence and the glory it had enjoyed at its height. He thought of the fate that awaits all things. In the name of humanity, I make this demand. If men are praised for weeping over enemies they themselves have conquered, a weak girl should not be called a criminal. She was mourning her lover, killed by her brother’s hand. While she wept for her betrothed, Rome rejoiced. It celebrated the devastation it had inflicted on its mother state. It also rejoiced in a victory bought with so much blood shared by Romans and Albans alike.

Why allege to me the mere names and words of "glory" and "victory?" Tear off the disguise of wild delusion, and look at the naked deeds: weigh them naked, judge them naked. Let the charge be brought against Alba, as Troy was charged with adultery. There is no such charge, none like it found: the war was kindled only in order that there

Why offer me nothing but the words "glory" and "victory"? Strip away the disguise of wild delusion and look at the bare deeds. Weigh them as they are. Judge them as they are. Let Alba be accused, as Troy was accused of adultery. There is no such charge, nothing like it. The war was started only so that there

This vice of restless ambition was the sole motive to that social and parricidal war,—a vice which Sallust brands in passing; for when he has spoken with brief but hearty commendation of those primitive times in which life was spent without covetousness, and every one was sufficiently satisfied with what he had, he goes on: "But after Cyrus in Asia, and the Lacedemonians and Athenians in Greece, began to subdue cities and nations, and to account the lust of sovereignty a sufficient ground for war, and to reckon that the greatest glory consisted in the greatest empire;"¹³⁹ and so on, as I need not now quote. This lust of sovereignty disturbs and consumes the human race with frightful ills. By this lust Rome was overcome when she triumphed over Alba, and praising her own crime, called it glory. For, as our Scriptures say, "the wicked boasteth of his heart's desire, and blesseth the covetous, whom the Lord abhorreth."¹⁴⁰ Away, then, with these deceitful masks, these deluding whitewashes, that things may be truthfully seen and scrutinized. Let no man tell me that this and the other was a "great" man, because he fought and conquered so and so. Gladiators fight and conquer, and this barbarism has its meed of praise; but I think it were better to take the consequences of any sloth, than to seek the glory won by such arms. And if two gladiators entered the arena to fight, one being father, the other his son, who would endure such a spectacle? who would not be revolted by it? How, then, could that be a glorious war which a daughter-state waged against its mother? Or did it constitute a difference, that the battlefield was not an arena, and that the wide plains were filled with the carcases not of two gladiators, but of many of the flower of two nations; and that those contests were viewed not by the amphitheatre, but by the whole world, and furnished a profane spectacle both to those alive at the time, and to their posterity, so long as the fame of it is handed down?

This vice of restless ambition was the only motive for that war between allies, a war against a parent state. Sallust condemns this vice in passing. He briefly but warmly praises the early days, when people lived without greed and were content with what they had. Then he continues: "But later, Cyrus in Asia and the Spartans and Athenians in Greece began to conquer cities and nations. They considered the lust for power reason enough for war and believed that the greatest empire brought the greatest glory."¹³⁹ He goes on, but I need not quote more now. This lust for power troubles and consumes the human race with terrible evils. By this lust, Rome was defeated even as she triumphed over Alba. She praised her own crime and called it glory. As our Scriptures say, "the wicked boast of their heart's desire and praise the greedy, whom the Lord hates."¹⁴⁰ Away with these deceptive masks and misleading coats of whitewash. Let us see things truthfully and examine them closely. Let no one tell me that someone was a "great" man because he fought and conquered this person or that one. Gladiators fight and conquer, and even this barbarism receives its share of praise. But I think it better to accept the consequences of any idleness than to seek glory through such fighting. Suppose two gladiators entered the arena to fight, one a father and the other his son. Who could bear to watch? Who would not be horrified? How, then, could a war be glorious when a daughter state waged it against its mother? Did it make a difference that the battlefield was not an arena? Or that the vast plains were filled not with two gladiators' bodies, but with the bodies of many of the finest people from two nations? Or that the whole world watched these contests, not just an amphitheater crowd? They offered a profane spectacle to those alive at the time and to later generations, for as long as their fame is passed down.

Yet those gods, guardians of the Roman empire, and, as it were, theatric spectators of such contests as these, were not satisfied until the sister of the Horatii was added by her brother's sword as a third victim from the Roman side, so that Rome herself, though she won the day, should have as many deaths to mourn. Afterwards, as a fruit of the victory, Alba was destroyed, though it was there the Trojan gods had formed a third asylum after Ilium had been sacked by the Greeks, and after they had left Lavinium, where Æneas had founded a kingdom in a land of banishment. But probably Alba was destroyed because from it too the gods had migrated, in their usual fashion, as Virgil says:

Yet those gods, the guardians of the Roman empire, watched these contests as if they were spectators at a play. They were not satisfied until one of the Horatii killed his sister with his sword. She became the third Roman victim, so that Rome, though victorious, had just as many deaths to mourn. Afterward, as a result of the victory, Alba was destroyed. Yet it was there that the Trojan gods had found a third refuge. The Greeks had sacked Ilium, and the gods had left Lavinium, where Aeneas had founded a kingdom in exile. But perhaps Alba was destroyed because the gods had left it too, as they usually did, as Virgil says:

Gone, indeed, and from now their third asylum, that Rome might seem all the wiser in committing herself to them after they had deserted three other cities. Alba, whose king Amulius had banished his brother, displeased them; Rome, whose king Romulus had slain his brother, pleased them. But before Alba was destroyed, its population, they say, was amalgamated with the inhabitants of Rome, so that the two cities were one. Well, admitting it was so, yet the fact remains that the city of Ascanius, the third retreat of the Trojan gods, was destroyed by the daughter-city. Besides, to effect this pitiful conglomerate of the war's leavings, much blood was spilt on both sides. And how shall I speak in detail of the same wars, so often renewed in subsequent reigns, though they seemed to have been finished by great victories; and of wars that time after time were brought to an end by great slaughters, and which yet time after time were renewed by the posterity of those who had made peace and struck treaties? Of this calamitous history we have no small proof, in the fact that no subsequent king closed the gates of war; and therefore, with all their tutelar gods, no one of them reigned in peace.

They had now abandoned their third refuge. This made Rome seem all the wiser for entrusting herself to them after they had deserted three other cities. Alba displeased them, although its king, Amulius, had only banished his brother. Rome pleased them, although its king, Romulus, had killed his brother. But before Alba was destroyed, its people were supposedly joined with Rome’s inhabitants, making the two cities one. Even if this is true, the fact remains that the daughter city destroyed Ascanius’s city, the third refuge of the Trojan gods. Besides, much blood was spilled on both sides to create this pitiful gathering of war’s survivors. How can I describe in detail those same wars, renewed so often under later kings? They seemed to have ended in great victories. Time and again, great slaughters brought them to an end. Yet time and again, the descendants of those who had made peace and signed treaties renewed them. We have considerable proof of this disastrous history. No later king closed the gates of war. So, despite all their guardian gods, not one of them reigned in peace.

15. What manner of life and death the Roman kings had.

15. How the Roman kings lived and died.

And what was the end of the kings themselves? Of Romulus, a flattering legend tells us that he was assumed into heaven. But certain Roman historians relate that he was torn in pieces by the senate for his ferocity, and that a man, Julius Proculus, was suborned to give out that Romulus had appeared to him, and through him commanded the Roman people to worship him as a god; and that in this way the people, who were beginning to resent the action of the senate, were quieted and pacified. For an eclipse of the sun had also happened; and this was attributed to the divine power of Romulus by the ignorant multitude, who did not know that it was brought about by the fixed laws of the sun's course: though this grief of the sun might rather have been considered proof that Romulus had been slain, and that the crime was indicated by this deprivation of the sun's light; as, in truth, was the case when the Lord was crucified through the cruelty and impiety of the Jews. For it is sufficiently demonstrated that this latter obscuration of the sun did not occur by the natural laws of the heavenly bodies, because it was then the Jewish passover, which is held only at full moon, whereas natural eclipses of the sun happen only at the last quarter of the moon. Cicero, too, shows plainly enough that the apotheosis of Romulus was imaginary rather than real, when, even while he is praising him in one of Scipio's remarks in the De Republica, he says: "Such a reputation had he acquired, that when he suddenly disappeared during an eclipse of the sun, he was supposed to have been assumed into the number of the gods, which could be supposed of no mortal who had not the highest reputation for virtue."¹⁴² By these words, "he suddenly disappeared," we are to understand that he was mysteriously made away with by the violence either of the tempest or of a murderous assault. For their other writers speak not only of an eclipse, but of a sudden storm also, which certainly either afforded opportunity for the crime, or itself made an end of Romulus. And of Tullus Hostilius, who was the third king of Rome, and who was himself destroyed by lightning, Cicero in the same book says, that "he was not supposed to have been deified by this death, possibly because the Romans were unwilling to vulgarize the promotion they were assured or persuaded of in the case of Romulus, lest they should bring it into contempt by gratuitously assigning it to all and sundry." In one of his invectives,¹⁴³ too, he says, in round terms, "The founder of this city, Romulus, we have raised to immortality and divinity by kindly celebrating his services;" implying that his deification was not real, but reputed, and called so by courtesy on account of his virtues. In the dialogue Hortensius, too, while speaking of the regular eclipses of the sun, he says that they "produce the same darkness as covered the death of Romulus, which happened during an eclipse of the sun." Here you see he does not at all shrink from speaking of his "death," for Cicero was more of a reasoner than an eulogist.

And what became of the kings themselves? A flattering legend says that Romulus was taken up into heaven. But some Roman historians say the senate tore him to pieces because of his cruelty. They say that Julius Proculus was persuaded to claim that Romulus had appeared to him. According to Proculus, Romulus commanded the Roman people, through him, to worship him as a god. In this way, the people were calmed and pacified when they were beginning to resent the senate’s action. An eclipse of the sun had also occurred. The ignorant crowd attributed it to Romulus’s divine power. They did not know that it resulted from the fixed laws governing the sun’s course. Yet the sun’s grief might instead have been taken as proof that Romulus had been killed. The loss of sunlight might have been seen as a sign of the crime. This was indeed the case when the Lord was crucified through the cruelty and impiety of the Jews. It is sufficiently clear that this later darkening of the sun did not follow the natural laws of the heavenly bodies. It was the Jewish Passover, which is held only at the full moon. Natural solar eclipses, however, happen only in the last quarter of the moon. Cicero also makes it plain enough that Romulus’s deification was imagined rather than real. Even while praising him in a remark by Scipio in De Republica, he says: "He had gained such a reputation that, when he suddenly disappeared during an eclipse of the sun, people supposed he had been taken up among the gods. No mortal could have been thought worthy of this without the highest reputation for virtue."¹⁴² By "he suddenly disappeared," we should understand that he met a mysterious end, either through the violence of the storm or through a murderous attack. Other Roman writers mention not only an eclipse but also a sudden storm. The storm certainly either provided an opportunity for the crime or itself killed Romulus. Tullus Hostilius, the third king of Rome, was killed by lightning. In the same book, Cicero says that "he was not supposed to have been made a god by this death. Perhaps the Romans did not want to make ordinary the honor they were assured of, or persuaded of, in Romulus’s case. They feared bringing it into contempt by freely granting it to anyone and everyone." In one of his attacks,¹⁴³ Cicero also says plainly, "We have raised Romulus, the founder of this city, to immortality and divinity by kindly celebrating his services." He implies that Romulus’s deification was not real. It was a matter of reputation, and he was called a god as a courtesy because of his virtues. In the dialogue Hortensius, Cicero also speaks of regular solar eclipses. He says they "produce the same darkness that covered the death of Romulus, which happened during an eclipse of the sun." Here he does not hesitate to speak of Romulus’s "death." Cicero was more a thinker than a writer of praise.

The other kings of Rome, too, with the exception of Numa Pompilius and Ancus Marcius, who died natural deaths, what horrible ends they had! Tullus Hostilius, the conqueror and destroyer of Alba, was, as I said, himself and all his house consumed by lightning. Priscus Tarquinius was slain by his predecessor's sons. Servius Tullius was foully murdered by his son-in-law Tarquinius Superbus, who succeeded him on the throne. Nor did so flagrant a parricide committed against Rome's best king drive from their altars and shrines those gods who were said to have been moved by Paris' adultery to treat poor Troy in this style, and abandon it to the fire and sword of the Greeks. Nay, the very Tarquin who had murdered, was allowed to succeed his father-in-law. And this infamous parricide, during the reign he had secured by murder, was allowed to triumph in many victorious wars, and to build the Capitol from their spoils; the gods meanwhile not departing, but abiding, and abetting, and suffering their king Jupiter to preside and reign over them in that very splendid Capitol, the work of a parricide. For he did not build the Capitol in the days of his innocence, and then suffer banishment for subsequent crimes; but to that reign during which he built the Capitol, he won his way by unnatural crime. And when he was afterwards banished by the Romans, and forbidden the city, it was not for his own but his son's wickedness in the affair of Lucretia,—a crime perpetrated not only without his cognizance, but in his absence. For at that time he was besieging Ardea, and fighting Rome's battles; and we cannot say what he would have done had he been aware of his son's crime. Notwithstanding, though his opinion was neither inquired into nor ascertained, the people stripped him of royalty; and when he returned to Rome with his army, it was admitted, but he was excluded, abandoned by his troops, and the gates shut in his face. And yet, after he had appealed to the neighbouring states, and tormented the Romans with calamitous but unsuccessful wars, and when he was deserted by the ally on whom he most depended, despairing of regaining the kingdom, he lived a retired and quiet life for fourteen years, as it is reported, in Tusculum, a Roman town; where he grew old in his wife's company, and at last terminated his days in a much more desirable fashion than his father-in-law, who had perished by the hand of his son-in-law; his own daughter abetting, if report be true. And this Tarquin the Romans called, not the Cruel, nor the Infamous, but the Proud; their own pride perhaps resenting his tyrannical airs. So little did they make of his murdering their best king, his own father-in-law, that they elected him their own king. I wonder if it was not even more criminal in them to reward so bountifully so great a criminal. And yet there was no word of the gods abandoning the altars; unless, perhaps, some one will say in defence of the gods, that they remained at Rome for the purpose of punishing the Romans, rather than of aiding and profiting them, seducing them by empty victories, and wearing them out by severe wars. Such was the life of the Romans under the kings during the much-praised epoch of the state which extends to the expulsion of Tarquinius Superbus in the 243d year, during which all those victories, which were bought with so much blood and such disasters, hardly pushed Rome's dominion twenty miles from the city; a territory which would by no means bear comparison with that of any petty Gætulian state.

The other kings of Rome also met terrible ends, except for Numa Pompilius and Ancus Marcius, who died natural deaths. Tullus Hostilius conquered and destroyed Alba. Yet, as I said, lightning consumed him and his whole household. Priscus Tarquinius was killed by his predecessor’s sons. Servius Tullius was brutally murdered by his son-in-law, Tarquinius Superbus, who succeeded him as king. Yet this shocking murder of a father-in-law, committed against Rome’s best king, did not drive the gods from their altars and shrines. These were the same gods who, supposedly, had abandoned poor Troy because of Paris’s adultery. They were said to have left it to the fire and sword of the Greeks. Indeed, Tarquin himself was allowed to succeed the father-in-law he had murdered. During the reign he secured by murder, this infamous killer won many wars. He was allowed to build the Capitol with the spoils. Meanwhile, the gods did not leave. They stayed and supported him, allowing their king Jupiter to preside and rule over them in that splendid Capitol. It was the work of a man who had murdered his father-in-law. He did not build it while innocent and then suffer banishment for later crimes. He gained the throne by an unnatural crime, and built the Capitol during that reign. When the Romans later banished him and barred him from the city, it was not for his own wickedness. It was for his son’s crime against Lucretia. His son committed it not only without his knowledge, but also while he was away. At the time, Tarquin was besieging Ardea and fighting Rome’s battles. We cannot say what he would have done had he known of his son’s crime. Nevertheless, the people stripped him of his throne without asking or discovering his opinion. When he returned to Rome with his army, the army was admitted, but he was shut out. His troops abandoned him, and the gates were closed in his face. He appealed to neighboring states and brought disastrous but unsuccessful wars upon the Romans. Then the ally he depended on most deserted him. Despairing of regaining his kingdom, he lived quietly in retirement for fourteen years, according to reports, in the Roman town of Tusculum. There he grew old with his wife and finally died in much better circumstances than his father-in-law. His father-in-law had died at the hands of his son-in-law, with his own daughter’s help, if the reports are true. The Romans called this Tarquin not the Cruel or the Infamous, but the Proud. Perhaps their own pride resented his tyrannical airs. They thought so little of his murder of their best king, his own father-in-law, that they elected him king. I wonder whether they were not even more guilty for rewarding such a great criminal so generously. Yet no one said that the gods had abandoned their altars. Perhaps someone will defend the gods by saying they stayed in Rome to punish the Romans, rather than to help and benefit them. Perhaps they stayed to tempt them with empty victories and wear them down with terrible wars. Such was Roman life under the kings, during that much-praised period of the state. It lasted until the expulsion of Tarquinius Superbus in the 243rd year. All those victories, bought with so much blood and so many disasters, extended Rome’s rule barely twenty miles beyond the city. That territory could not compare with the territory of even a small Gaetulian state.

To this epoch let us add also that of which Sallust says, that it was ordered with justice and moderation, while the fear of Tarquin and of a war with Etruria was impending. For so long as the Etrurians aided the efforts of Tarquin to regain the throne, Rome was convulsed with distressing war. And therefore he says that the state was ordered with justice and moderation, through the pressure of fear, not through the influence of equity. And in this very brief period, how calamitous a year was that in which consuls were first created, when the kingly power was abolished! They did not fulfil their term of office. For Junius Brutus deprived his colleague Lucius Tarquinius Collatinus, and banished him from the city; and shortly after he himself fell in battle, at once slaying and slain, having formerly put to death his own sons and his brothers-in-law, because he had discovered that they were conspiring to restore Tarquin. It is this deed that Virgil shudders to record, even while he seems to praise it; for when he says,

Let us add to this period the one Sallust describes as governed with justice and moderation. This was when the threat of Tarquin and war with Etruria still hung over Rome. As long as the Etruscans helped Tarquin try to regain the throne, Rome was shaken by a distressing war. Sallust therefore says the state was governed with justice and moderation because of fear, not because of a sense of fairness. Even in this very brief period, what a disastrous year it was when kingship was abolished and consuls were first appointed! They did not complete their terms of office. Junius Brutus removed his colleague Lucius Tarquinius Collatinus from office and banished him from the city. Soon afterward, Brutus himself fell in battle, killing his opponent as he was killed. Before this, he had put his own sons and brothers-in-law to death. He had discovered that they were conspiring to restore Tarquin to the throne. Virgil shudders to describe this deed, even while he seems to praise it. For when he says,

he immediately exclaims,

he immediately cries out,

that is to say, let posterity judge the deed as they please, let them praise and extol the father who slew his sons, he is unhappy. And then he adds, as if to console so unhappy a man:

That is, let future generations judge the deed as they please. Let them praise and honor the father who killed his sons. He is unhappy. Then he adds, as if to comfort such an unhappy man:

In the tragic end of Brutus, who slew his own sons, and though he slew his enemy, Tarquin's son, yet could not survive him, but was survived by Tarquin the elder, does not the innocence of his colleague Collatinus seem to be vindicated, who, though a good citizen, suffered the same punishment as Tarquin himself, when that tyrant was banished? For Brutus himself is said to have been a relative¹⁴⁵ of Tarquin. But Collatinus had the misfortune to bear not only the blood, but the name of Tarquin. To change his name, then, not his country, would have been his fit penalty: to abridge his name by this word, and be called simply L. Collatinus. But he was not compelled to lose what he could lose without detriment, but was stripped of the honour of the first consulship, and was banished from the land he loved. Is this, then, the glory of Brutus—this injustice, alike detestable and profitless to the republic? Was it to this he was driven by "his country's love, and unextinguished thirst of praise?"

Consider the tragic end of Brutus. He killed his own sons and also killed his enemy, Tarquin’s son. Yet he did not survive him, while Tarquin the elder outlived Brutus. Does this not seem to vindicate the innocence of Brutus’s colleague Collatinus? Collatinus was a good citizen, yet he suffered the same punishment as Tarquin himself when the tyrant was banished. Brutus himself is said to have been a relative¹⁴⁵ of Tarquin. But Collatinus had the misfortune of sharing not only Tarquin’s blood, but also his name. His proper penalty would have been to change his name, not his country. He could have dropped that one word and been called simply L. Collatinus. But he was not made to give up what he could have lost without harm. Instead, he was stripped of the honor of being one of the first consuls and banished from the land he loved. Is this, then, the glory of Brutus? Was this injustice, both detestable and useless to the republic, his glory? Was this what he was driven to by "his country's love, and unextinguished thirst of praise?"

When Tarquin the tyrant was expelled, L. Tarquinius Collatinus, the husband of Lucretia, was created consul along with Brutus. How justly the people acted, in looking more to the character than the name of a citizen! How unjustly Brutus acted, in depriving of honour and country his colleague in that new office, whom he might have deprived of his name, if it were so offensive to him! Such were the ills, such the disasters, which fell out when the government was "ordered with justice and moderation." Lucretius, too, who succeeded Brutus, was carried off by disease before the end of that same year. So P. Valerius, who succeeded Collatinus, and M. Horatius, who filled the vacancy occasioned by the death of Lucretius, completed that disastrous and funereal year, which had five consuls. Such was the year in which the Roman republic inaugurated the new honour and office of the consulship.

When Tarquin the tyrant was driven out, L. Tarquinius Collatinus, Lucretia’s husband, was made consul alongside Brutus. How justly the people acted in judging a citizen by his character rather than his name! How unjustly Brutus acted by stripping his colleague in this new office of his honor and his country! He could have stripped him of his name instead, if it offended him so much. These were the troubles and disasters that occurred when the government was “ordered with justice and moderation.” Lucretius, who succeeded Brutus, also died of disease before that same year ended. So P. Valerius, who succeeded Collatinus, and M. Horatius, who replaced Lucretius after his death, finished that disastrous year of mourning. It had five consuls. Such was the year in which the Roman republic introduced the new honor and office of consul.

17. Of the disasters which vexed the Roman republic after the inauguration of the consulship, and of the non-intervention of the gods of Rome.

17. The disasters that troubled the Roman republic after the consulship was established, and the failure of Rome's gods to intervene.

After this, when their fears were gradually diminished,—not because the wars ceased, but because they were not so furious,—that period in which things were "ordered with justice and moderation" drew to an end, and there followed that state of matters which Sallust thus briefly sketches: "Then began the patricians to oppress the people as slaves, to condemn them to death or scourging, as the kings had done, to drive them from their holdings, and to tyrannize over those who had no property to lose. The people, overwhelmed by these oppressive measures, and most of all by usury, and obliged to contribute both money and personal service to the constant wars, at length took arms and seceded to Mount Aventine and Mount Sacer, and thus secured for themselves tribunes and protective laws. But it was only the second Punic war that put an end on both sides to discord and strife."¹⁴⁶ But why should I spend time in writing such things, or make others spend it in reading them? Let the terse summary of Sallust suffice to intimate the misery of the republic through all that long period till the second Punic war,—how it was distracted from without by unceasing wars, and torn with civil broils and dissensions. So that those victories they boast were not the substantial joys of the happy, but the empty comforts of wretched men, and seductive incitements to turbulent men to concoct disasters upon disasters. And let not the good and prudent Romans be angry at our saying this; and indeed we need neither deprecate nor denounce their anger, for we know they will harbour none. For we speak no more severely than their own authors, and much less elaborately and strikingly; yet they diligently read these authors, and compel their children to learn them. But they who are angry, what would they do to me were I to say what Sallust says? "Frequent mobs, seditions, and at last civil wars, became common, while a few leading men on whom the masses were dependent, affected supreme power under the seemly pretence of seeking the good of senate and people; citizens were judged good or bad, without reference to their loyalty to the republic (for all were equally corrupt); but the wealthy and dangerously powerful were esteemed good citizens, because they maintained the existing state of things." Now, if those historians judged that an honourable freedom of speech required that they should not be silent regarding the blemishes of their own state, which they have in many places loudly applauded in their ignorance of that other and true city in which citizenship is an everlasting dignity; what does it become us to do, whose liberty ought to be so much greater, as our hope in God is better and more assured, when they impute to our Christ the calamities of this age, in order that men of the less instructed and weaker sort may be alienated from that city in which alone eternal and blessed life can be enjoyed? Nor do we utter against their gods anything more horrible than their own authors do, whom they read and circulate. For, indeed, all that we have said we have derived from them, and there is much more to say of a worse kind which we are unable to say.

After this, their fears gradually eased. This was not because the wars ended, but because they became less fierce. The period when things were “ordered with justice and moderation” came to an end. What followed is briefly described by Sallust: “Then the patricians began to oppress the people as slaves. Like the kings before them, they condemned people to death or flogging. They drove them from their land and tyrannized those who had no property to lose. The people were overwhelmed by these oppressive measures, especially by usury. They were also forced to contribute money and serve in the constant wars. At last they took up arms and withdrew to Mount Aventine and Mount Sacer. In this way they secured tribunes and laws to protect themselves. But only the second Punic war ended the discord and strife on both sides.”¹⁴⁶ Why should I spend time writing about these things, or make others spend time reading them? Sallust’s brief summary is enough to suggest the republic’s misery throughout that long period until the second Punic war. It was troubled from outside by constant wars and torn apart within by civil strife and disagreements. The victories they boast about were not the real joys of happy people. They were the hollow comforts of miserable people, and tempting incentives for turbulent men to pile disaster upon disaster. Let good and sensible Romans not be angry with us for saying this. Indeed, we need neither beg them not to be angry nor condemn their anger, for we know they will feel none. We speak no more harshly than their own authors, and much less fully and vividly. Yet they read these authors diligently and make their children study them. But what would those who are angry do to me if I said what Sallust says? “Frequent mobs and uprisings, and finally civil wars, became common. A few leading men, on whom the masses depended, sought supreme power under the respectable pretense of serving the senate and the people. Citizens were judged good or bad without regard to their loyalty to the republic, for all were equally corrupt. The wealthy and those with dangerous power were considered good citizens because they preserved the existing order.” Those historians believed that honorable freedom of speech required them to speak openly about the flaws of their own state. They praised it highly in many places, unaware of that other, true city, where citizenship is an everlasting honor. What, then, should we do? Our freedom ought to be so much greater, because our hope in God is better and more certain. Yet they blame the disasters of this age on our Christ. They do this to turn the less educated and weaker people away from the city where alone eternal and blessed life can be enjoyed. Nor do we say anything more terrible about their gods than their own authors do. They read and circulate those authors. In fact, we have drawn everything we have said from them. There is much more, and worse, that we are unable to say.

Where, then, were those gods who are supposed to be justly worshipped for the slender and delusive prosperity of this world, when the Romans, who were seduced to their service by lying wiles, were harassed by such calamities? Where were they when Valerius the consul was killed while defending the Capitol, that had been fired by exiles and slaves? He was himself better able to defend the temple of Jupiter, than that crowd of divinities with their most high and mighty king, whose temple he came to the rescue of, were able to defend him. Where were they when the city, worn out with unceasing seditions, was waiting in some kind of calm for the return of the ambassadors who had been sent to Athens to borrow laws, and was desolated by dreadful famine and pestilence? Where were they when the people, again distressed with famine, created for the first time a prefect of the market; and when Spurius Melius, who, as the famine increased, distributed corn to the famishing masses, was accused of aspiring to royalty, and at the instance of this same prefect, and on the authority of the superannuated dictator L. Quintius, was put to death by Quintus Servilius, master of the horse,—an event which occasioned a serious and dangerous riot? Where were they when that very severe pestilence visited Rome, on account of which the people, after long and wearisome and useless supplications of the helpless gods, conceived the idea of celebrating Lectisternia, which had never been done before; that is to say, they set couches in honour of the gods, which accounts for the name of this sacred rite, or rather sacrilege?¹⁴⁷ Where were they when, during ten successive years of reverses, the Roman army suffered frequent and great losses among the Veians, and would have been destroyed but for the succour of Furius Camillus, who was afterwards banished by an ungrateful country? Where were they when the Gauls took, sacked, burned, and desolated Rome? Where were they when that memorable pestilence wrought such destruction, in which Furius Camillus too perished, who first defended the ungrateful republic from the Veians, and afterwards saved it from the Gauls? Nay, during this plague they introduced a new pestilence of scenic entertainments, which spread its more fatal contagion, not to the bodies, but the morals of the Romans? Where were they when another frightful pestilence visited the city—I mean the poisonings imputed to an incredible number of noble Roman matrons, whose characters were infected with a disease more fatal than any plague? Or when both consuls at the head of the army were beset by the Samnites in the Caudine Forks, and forced to strike a shameful treaty, 600 Roman knights being kept as hostages; while the troops, having laid down their arms, and being stripped of everything, were made to pass under the yoke with one garment each? Or when, in the midst of a serious pestilence, lightning struck the Roman camp and killed many? Or when Rome was driven, by the violence of another intolerable plague, to send to Epidaurus for Æsculapius as a god of medicine; since the frequent adulteries of Jupiter in his youth had not perhaps left this king of all who so long reigned in the Capitol, any leisure for the study of medicine? Or when, at one time, the Lucanians, Brutians, Samnites, Tuscans, and Senonian Gauls conspired against Rome, and first slew her ambassadors, then overthrew an army under the prætor, putting to the sword 13,000 men, besides the commander and seven tribunes? Or when the people, after the serious and long-continued disturbances at Rome, at last plundered the city and withdrew to Janiculus; a danger so grave, that Hortensius was created dictator,—an office which they had recourse to only in extreme emergencies; and he, having brought back the people, died while yet he retained his office,—an event without precedent in the case of any dictator, and which was a shame to those gods who had now Æsculapius among them?

Where, then, were those gods supposedly worthy of worship for the meager and deceptive prosperity of this world? Where were they when the Romans, tricked into serving them by lies, suffered such disasters? Where were they when the consul Valerius was killed defending the Capitol, which exiles and slaves had set on fire? He was better able to defend Jupiter’s temple than that crowd of gods and their supreme king were to defend him. Yet he had come to rescue their temple. Where were they when the city was exhausted by constant unrest? It was waiting in a kind of calm for ambassadors to return from Athens, where they had gone to borrow laws. Meanwhile, terrible famine and disease devastated the city. Where were they when the people, suffering from famine again, appointed a market prefect for the first time? As the famine worsened, Spurius Melius gave grain to the starving masses. He was accused of seeking to become king. At the prefect’s urging and under the authority of the aged dictator L. Quintius, Quintus Servilius, the master of the horse, killed him. His death caused a serious and dangerous riot. Where were they when a severe plague struck Rome? The people prayed long and wearisomely to the helpless gods, but to no avail. Then they decided to hold a Lectisternium, a ceremony never performed before. They set out couches in honor of the gods, which explains the name of this sacred rite, or rather sacrilege.¹⁴⁷ Where were they during ten successive years of setbacks, when the Roman army suffered frequent and heavy losses against the Veians? It would have been destroyed without help from Furius Camillus, whom an ungrateful country later banished. Where were they when the Gauls captured, plundered, burned, and devastated Rome? Where were they when that notorious plague caused such destruction? Furius Camillus died in it too. He had first defended the ungrateful republic against the Veians and later saved it from the Gauls. Worse still, during this plague the Romans introduced a new pestilence, theatrical entertainments. These spread a deadlier contagion, infecting not Roman bodies but Roman morals. Where were they when another dreadful plague struck the city? I mean the poisonings attributed to an incredible number of noble Roman women. Their characters were infected with a disease deadlier than any plague. Where were they when both consuls, leading the army, were trapped by the Samnites at the Caudine Forks? They were forced to make a shameful treaty, and 600 Roman knights were kept as hostages. The soldiers had to lay down their arms and were stripped of everything but one garment each. Then they were made to pass under the yoke. Where were they when lightning struck the Roman camp during a serious plague, killing many? Where were they when another unbearable plague forced Rome to send to Epidaurus for Aesculapius, a god of medicine? Perhaps Jupiter’s frequent adulteries in his youth had left this king of all the gods no time to study medicine. Yet he had reigned so long in the Capitol. Where were they when the Lucanians, Brutians, Samnites, Tuscans, and Senonian Gauls joined forces against Rome? They first killed her ambassadors, then defeated an army under a praetor. They killed 13,000 men, as well as the commander and seven tribunes. Where were they when, after serious and prolonged unrest in Rome, the people finally plundered the city and withdrew to the Janiculum? The danger was so grave that Hortensius was appointed dictator, an office used only in extreme emergencies. He brought the people back, but died while still in office. No dictator had ever died in office before. This was a disgrace to those gods, who now had Aesculapius among them.

At that time, indeed, so many wars were everywhere engaged in, that through scarcity of soldiers they enrolled for military service the proletarii, who received this name, because, being too poor to equip for military service, they had leisure to beget offspring.¹⁴⁸ Pyrrhus, king of Greece, and at that time of wide-spread renown, was invited by the Tarentines to enlist himself against Rome. It was to him that Apollo, when consulted regarding the issue of his enterprise, uttered with some pleasantry so ambiguous an oracle, that whichever alternative happened, the god himself should be counted divine. For he so worded the oracle,¹⁴⁹ that whether Pyrrhus was conquered by the Romans, or the Romans by Pyrrhus, the soothsaying god would securely await the issue. And then what frightful massacres of both armies ensued! Yet Pyrrhus remained conqueror, and would have been able now to proclaim Apollo a true diviner, as he understood the oracle, had not the Romans been the conquerors in the next engagement. And while such disastrous wars were being waged, a terrible disease broke out among the women. For the pregnant women died before delivery. And Æsculapius, I fancy, excused himself in this matter on the ground that he professed to be arch-physician, not midwife. Cattle, too, similarly perished; so that it was believed that the whole race of animals was destined to become extinct. Then what shall I say of that memorable winter in which the weather was so incredibly severe, that in the Forum frightfully deep snow lay for forty days together, and the Tiber was frozen? Had such things happened in our time, what accusations we should have heard from our enemies! And that other great pestilence, which raged so long and carried off so many; what shall I say of it? Spite of all the drugs of Æsculapius, it only grew worse in its second year, till at last recourse was had to the Sibylline books,—a kind of oracle which, as Cicero says in his De Divinatione, owes significance to its interpreters, who make doubtful conjectures as they can or as they wish. In this instance, the cause of the plague was said to be that so many temples had been used as private residences. And thus Æsculapius for the present escaped the charge of either ignominious negligence or want of skill. But why were so many allowed to occupy sacred tenements without interference, unless because supplication had long been addressed in vain to such a crowd of gods, and so by degrees the sacred places were deserted of worshippers, and being thus vacant, could without offence be put at least to some human uses? And the temples, which were at that time laboriously recognised and restored that the plague might be stayed, fell afterwards into disuse, and were again devoted to the same human uses. Had they not thus lapsed into obscurity, it could not have been pointed to as proof of Varro's great erudition, that in his work on sacred places he cites so many that were unknown. Meanwhile, the restoration of the temples procured no cure of the plague, but only a fine excuse for the gods.

At that time, so many wars were being fought everywhere that soldiers were scarce. So the Romans enrolled the proletarii for military service. These men were given that name because they were too poor to equip themselves for military service. Instead, they had leisure to beget children.¹⁴⁸ The Tarentines invited Pyrrhus, king of Greece and widely renowned at the time, to join them against Rome. When he asked Apollo about the outcome, the god gave him an amusingly ambiguous oracle. Whatever happened, Apollo would be counted a true god. He worded the oracle¹⁴⁹ so that he could safely await the outcome. It would seem true whether the Romans defeated Pyrrhus or Pyrrhus defeated the Romans. Then followed frightful massacres in both armies. Yet Pyrrhus won. He could now have declared Apollo a true prophet, according to his understanding of the oracle. But the Romans won the next battle. While these disastrous wars were being fought, a terrible disease struck the women. Pregnant women died before giving birth. Æsculapius, I suppose, excused himself by saying that he claimed to be the chief physician, not a midwife. Cattle died in the same way. People even believed that the whole animal race was destined to die out. What shall I say of that memorable winter, when the weather was incredibly severe? Frightfully deep snow lay in the Forum for forty days without a break, and the Tiber froze. If such things had happened in our time, what accusations we would have heard from our enemies! And what shall I say of the other great plague? It lasted so long and carried off so many. Despite all the medicines of Æsculapius, it grew worse in its second year. At last, people turned to the Sibylline books. These were a kind of oracle whose meaning, as Cicero says in his De Divinatione, depends on its interpreters. They make doubtful guesses as best they can or as they please. In this case, the plague was said to have been caused by the use of so many temples as private homes. So for the moment Æsculapius escaped the charge of shameful neglect or lack of skill. But why had so many people been allowed to occupy sacred buildings without interference? Surely it was because prayers to such a crowd of gods had long gone unanswered. Gradually, worshippers deserted the sacred places. Once empty, they could be put to some human use without causing offense. At that time, people took great pains to identify and restore the temples, hoping to stop the plague. Later, however, the temples again fell into disuse and were put to the same human uses. If they had not faded from memory, Varro's work on sacred places could not have demonstrated his great learning. In it, he names so many places that were unknown. Meanwhile, restoring the temples did not cure the plague. It merely provided the gods with a fine excuse.

18. The disasters suffered by the Romans in the Punic wars, which were not mitigated by the protection of the gods.

18. The disasters the Romans suffered in the Punic Wars, which the gods did not lessen by protecting them.

In the Punic wars, again, when victory hung so long in the balance between the two kingdoms, when two powerful nations were straining every nerve and using all their resources against one another, how many smaller kingdoms were crushed, how many large and flourishing cities were demolished, how many states were overwhelmed and ruined, how many districts and lands far and near were desolated! How often were the victors on either side vanquished! What multitudes of men, both of those actually in arms and of others, were destroyed! What huge navies, too, were crippled in engagements, or were sunk by every kind of marine disaster! Were we to attempt to recount or mention these calamities, we should become writers of history. At that period Rome was mightily perturbed, and resorted to vain and ludicrous expedients. On the authority of the Sibylline books, the secular games were re-appointed, which had been inaugurated a century before, but had faded into oblivion in happier times. The games consecrated to the infernal gods were also renewed by the pontiffs; for they, too, had sunk into disuse in the better times. And no wonder; for when they were renewed, the great abundance of dying men made all hell rejoice at its riches, and give itself up to sport: for certainly the ferocious wars, and disastrous quarrels, and bloody victories—now on one side, and now on the other—though most calamitous to men, afforded great sport and a rich banquet to the devils. But in the first Punic war there was no more disastrous event than the Roman defeat in which Regulus was taken. We made mention of him in the two former books as an incontestably great man, who had before conquered and subdued the Carthaginians, and who would have put an end to the first Punic war, had not an inordinate appetite for praise and glory prompted him to impose on the worn-out Carthaginians harder conditions than they could bear. If the unlooked-for captivity and unseemly bondage of this man, his fidelity to his oath, and his surpassingly cruel death, do not bring a blush to the face of the gods, it is true that they are brazen and bloodless.

In the Punic Wars, victory remained uncertain for a long time between the two kingdoms. Two powerful nations strained every nerve and used all their resources against each other. How many smaller kingdoms were crushed! How many large and flourishing cities were destroyed! How many states were overwhelmed and ruined! How many districts and lands, both near and far, were laid waste! How often were the victors on each side themselves defeated! What multitudes died, both soldiers and others! What huge fleets were crippled in battle or sunk by every kind of disaster at sea! If we tried to recount or even mention these calamities, we would become historians. At that time Rome was deeply troubled and turned to pointless and ridiculous measures. On the authority of the Sibylline books, the Secular Games were held again. They had been established a century earlier, but had been forgotten in happier times. The priests also revived the games dedicated to the gods of the underworld. These, too, had fallen out of use in better times. And no wonder. When the games were revived, the great number of dying men made all hell rejoice at its riches and give itself over to play. For the savage wars, disastrous conflicts, and bloody victories, now on one side and now on the other, brought terrible suffering to humanity. Yet they certainly provided great sport and a rich banquet for the devils. But no event in the First Punic War was more disastrous than the Roman defeat in which Regulus was captured. We mentioned him in the two preceding books as an unquestionably great man. He had previously defeated and subdued the Carthaginians. He would have ended the First Punic War if his excessive hunger for praise and glory had not led him to impose conditions too harsh for the exhausted Carthaginians to bear. His capture was unexpected, his bondage shameful, and his death exceptionally cruel. Yet he remained faithful to his oath. If all this does not make the gods blush, then indeed they are brazen and bloodless.

Nor were there wanting at that time very heavy disasters within the city itself. For the Tiber was extraordinarily flooded, and destroyed almost all the lower parts of the city; some buildings being carried away by the violence of the torrent, while others were soaked to rottenness by the water that stood round them even after the flood was gone. This visitation was followed by a fire which was still more destructive, for it consumed some of the loftier buildings round the Forum, and spared not even its own proper temple, that of Vesta, in which virgins chosen for this honour, or rather for this punishment, had been employed in conferring, as it were, everlasting life on fire, by ceaselessly feeding it with fresh fuel. But at the time we speak of, the fire in the temple was not content with being kept alive: it raged. And when the virgins, scared by its vehemence, were unable to save those fatal images which had already brought destruction on three cities¹⁵⁰ in which they had been received, Metellus the priest, forgetful of his own safety, rushed in and rescued the sacred things, though he was half roasted in doing so. For either the fire did not recognise even him, or else the goddess of fire was there,—a goddess who would not have fled from the fire supposing she had been there. But here you see how a man could be of greater service to Vesta than she could be to him. Now if these gods could not avert the fire from themselves, what help against flames or flood could they bring to the state of which they were the reputed guardians? Facts have shown that they were useless. These objections of ours would be idle if our adversaries maintained that their idols are consecrated rather as symbols of things eternal, than to secure the blessings of time; and that thus, though the symbols, like all material and visible things, might perish, no damage thereby resulted to the things for the sake of which they had been consecrated, while, as for the images themselves, they could be renewed again for the same purposes they had formerly served. But with lamentable blindness, they suppose that, through the intervention of perishable gods, the earthly well-being and temporal prosperity of the state can be preserved from perishing. And so, when they are reminded that even when the gods remained among them this well-being and prosperity were blighted, they blush to change the opinion they are unable to defend.

There were also very serious disasters in the city itself at that time. The Tiber flooded to an extraordinary extent and destroyed almost all the lower parts of the city. The force of the flood swept away some buildings. Others became waterlogged and rotted because water remained around them even after the flood had passed. A still more destructive fire followed this disaster. It consumed some of the taller buildings around the Forum. It did not even spare its own temple, the temple of Vesta. There, virgins chosen for this honor, or rather this punishment, had been tending the fire. By constantly adding fresh fuel, they gave it, as it were, everlasting life. But on this occasion, the fire in the temple was not content merely to stay alive. It raged. The virgins were terrified by its force and could not save the fateful images. These had already brought destruction on three cities¹⁵⁰ that had received them. But Metellus the priest forgot his own safety, rushed in, and rescued the sacred objects. In doing so, he was half roasted. Either the fire did not recognize even him, or the goddess of fire was there. Yet if she had been there, she would not have fled from the fire. Here you can see how a man could do more for Vesta than she could do for him. If these gods could not protect themselves from fire, how could they protect the state from fire or flood? They were supposed to be its guardians, but the facts have shown that they were useless. Our objections would have no force if our opponents claimed that their idols were consecrated as symbols of eternal things. They would then say that the idols were not meant to secure earthly blessings. The symbols, like all material and visible things, might perish. Yet the eternal things they represented would suffer no harm. The images themselves could be made again for the same purposes as before. But in their lamentable blindness, our opponents believe otherwise. They think that perishable gods can preserve the earthly well-being and temporal prosperity of the state. They are reminded that both were ruined even while the gods remained among them. Yet they are ashamed to change an opinion they cannot defend.

19. Of the calamity of the second Punic war, which consumed the strength of both parties.

19. The disaster of the Second Punic War, which drained the strength of both sides.

As to the second Punic war, it were tedious to recount the disasters it brought on both the nations engaged in so protracted and shifting a war, that (by the acknowledgment even of those writers who have made it their object not so much to narrate the wars as to eulogize the dominion of Rome) the people who remained victorious were less like conquerors than conquered. For, when Hannibal poured out of Spain over the Pyrenees, and overran Gaul, and burst through the Alps, and during his whole course gathered strength by plundering and subduing as he went, and inundated Italy like a torrent, how bloody were the wars, and how continuous the engagements, that were fought! How often were the Romans vanquished! How many towns went over to the enemy, and how many were taken and subdued! What fearful battles there were, and how often did the defeat of the Romans shed lustre on the arms of Hannibal! And what shall I say of the wonderfully crushing defeat at Cannæ, where even Hannibal, cruel as he was, was yet sated with the blood of his bitterest enemies, and gave orders that they be spared? From this field of battle he sent to Carthage three bushels of gold rings, signifying that so much of the rank of Rome had that day fallen, that it was easier to give an idea of it by measure than by numbers; and that the frightful slaughter of the common rank and file whose bodies lay undistinguished by the ring, and who were numerous in proportion to their meanness, was rather to be conjectured than accurately reported. In fact, such was the scarcity of soldiers after this, that the Romans impressed their criminals on the promise of impunity, and their slaves by the bribe of liberty, and out of these infamous classes did not so much recruit as create an army. But these slaves, or, to give them all their titles, these freedmen who were enlisted to do battle for the republic of Rome, lacked arms. And so they took arms from the temples, as if the Romans were saying to their gods: Lay down those arms you have held so long in vain, if by chance our slaves may be able to use to purpose what you, our gods, have been impotent to use. At that time, too, the public treasury was too low to pay the soldiers, and private resources were used for public purposes; and so generously did individuals contribute of their property, that, saving the gold ring and bulla which each wore, the pitiful mark of his rank, no senator, and much less any of the other orders and tribes, reserved any gold for his own use. But if in our day they were reduced to this poverty, who would be able to endure their reproaches, barely endurable as they are now, when more money is spent on actors for the sake of a superfluous gratification, than was then disbursed to the legions?

As for the Second Punic War, it would be tedious to recount the disasters it brought on both nations. The war was long, and its fortunes shifted constantly. Even writers who aimed less to describe the wars than to praise Rome’s rule admitted this. The people who emerged victorious looked more like the defeated than the victors. Hannibal poured out of Spain, crossed the Pyrenees, overran Gaul, and forced his way through the Alps. Along the way, he grew stronger by plundering and conquering. Then he flooded Italy like a torrent. How bloody the wars were, and how constant the fighting! How often the Romans were defeated! How many towns went over to the enemy, and how many were captured and subdued! What fearful battles were fought, and how often Roman defeats brought glory to Hannibal’s arms! What can I say of the astonishingly crushing defeat at Cannae? Even Hannibal, cruel as he was, had enough of his bitterest enemies’ blood and ordered that they be spared. From the battlefield he sent three bushels of gold rings to Carthage. They showed how many of Rome’s leading men had fallen that day. Their number was easier to convey by measure than by counting. As for the terrible slaughter of the common soldiers, their number could only be guessed, not accurately reported. Their bodies bore no rings to distinguish them, and their numbers were as great as their rank was low. After this, soldiers were so scarce that the Romans enlisted criminals by promising them freedom from punishment. They also enlisted slaves by offering them freedom. From these despised classes, they did not so much reinforce an army as create one. But these slaves, or, to give them their full title, these freedmen enlisted to fight for the Roman republic, lacked weapons. So the Romans took weapons from the temples. It was as if they were saying to their gods: “Lay down those weapons you have held so long in vain. Perhaps our slaves can make good use of what you, our gods, have been powerless to use.” At that time, too, the public treasury was too empty to pay the soldiers, and private wealth was used for public needs. People gave so generously that no senator kept any gold for his own use. Nor did anyone from the other ranks and tribes, who had even less to keep. Each kept only the gold ring and bulla he wore, the pitiful signs of his rank. But if people today were reduced to such poverty, who could bear their complaints? They are barely tolerable even now, when more money is spent on actors for needless pleasure than was then paid to the legions.

20. Of the destruction of the Saguntines, who received no help from the Roman gods, though perishing on account of their fidelity to Rome.

20. The destruction of the Saguntines, who received no help from the Roman gods, although they died because they remained loyal to Rome.

But among all the disasters of the second Punic war, there occurred none more lamentable, or calculated to excite deeper complaint, than the fate of the Saguntines. This city of Spain, eminently friendly to Rome, was destroyed by its fidelity to the Roman people. For when Hannibal had broken treaty with the Romans, he sought occasion for provoking them to war, and accordingly made a fierce assault upon Saguntum. When this was reported at Rome, ambassadors were sent to Hannibal, urging him to raise the siege; and when this remonstrance was neglected, they proceeded to Carthage, lodged complaint against the breaking of the treaty, and returned to Rome without accomplishing their object. Meanwhile the siege went on; and in the eighth or ninth month, this opulent but ill-fated city, dear as it was to its own state and to Rome, was taken, and subjected to treatment which one cannot read, much less narrate, without horror. And yet, because it bears directly on the matter in hand, I will briefly touch upon it. First, then, famine wasted the Saguntines, so that even human corpses were eaten by some: so at least it is recorded. Subsequently, when thoroughly worn out, that they might at least escape the ignominy of falling into the hands of Hannibal, they publicly erected a huge funeral pile, and cast themselves into its flames, while at the same time they slew their children and themselves with the sword. Could these gods, these debauchees and gourmands, whose mouths water for fat sacrifices, and whose lips utter lying divinations,—could they not do anything in a case like this? Could they not interfere for the preservation of a city closely allied to the Roman people, or prevent it perishing for its fidelity to that alliance of which they themselves had been the mediators? Saguntum, faithfully keeping the treaty it had entered into before these gods, and to which it had firmly bound itself by an oath, was besieged, taken, and destroyed by a perjured person. If afterwards, when Hannibal was close to the walls of Rome, it was the gods who terrified him with lightning and tempest, and drove him to a distance, why, I ask, did they not thus interfere before? For I make bold to say, that this demonstration with the tempest would have been more honourably made in defence of the allies of Rome—who were in danger on account of their reluctance to break faith with the Romans, and had no resources of their own—than in defence of the Romans themselves, who were fighting in their own cause, and had abundant resources to oppose Hannibal. If, then, they had been the guardians of Roman prosperity and glory, they would have preserved that glory from the stain of this Saguntine disaster; and how silly it is to believe that Rome was preserved from destruction at the hands of Hannibal by the guardian care of those gods who were unable to rescue the city of Saguntum from perishing through its fidelity to the alliance of Rome. If the population of Saguntum had been Christian, and had suffered as it did for the Christian faith (though, of course, Christians would not have used fire and sword against their own persons), they would have suffered with that hope which springs from faith in Christ—the hope not of a brief temporal reward, but of unending and eternal bliss. What, then, will the advocates and apologists of these gods say in their defence, when charged with the blood of these Saguntines; for they are professedly worshipped and invoked for this very purpose of securing prosperity in this fleeting and transitory life? Can anything be said but what was alleged in the case of Regulus' death? For though there is a difference between the two cases, the one being an individual, the other a whole community, yet the cause of destruction was in both cases the keeping of their plighted troth. For it was this which made Regulus willing to return to his enemies, and this which made the Saguntines unwilling to revolt to their enemies. Does, then, the keeping of faith provoke the gods to anger? Or is it possible that not only individuals, but even entire communities, perish while the gods are propitious to them? Let our adversaries choose which alternative they will. If, on the one hand, those gods are enraged at the keeping of faith, let them enlist perjured persons as their worshippers. If, on the other hand, men and states can suffer great and terrible calamities, and at last perish while favoured by the gods, then does their worship not produce happiness as its fruit. Let those, therefore, who suppose that they have fallen into distress because their religious worship has been abolished, lay aside their anger; for it were quite possible that did the gods not only remain with them, but regard them with favour, they might yet be left to mourn an unhappy lot, or might, even like Regulus and the Saguntines, be horribly tormented, and at last perish miserably.

Among all the disasters of the Second Punic War, none was more tragic or gave greater cause for complaint than the fate of the Saguntines. This city in Spain was a devoted friend of Rome. Its loyalty to the Roman people brought about its destruction. Hannibal had broken his treaty with the Romans and was looking for a reason to provoke a war. So he launched a fierce attack on Saguntum. When Rome learned of this, it sent envoys to Hannibal, urging him to end the siege. He ignored their protest, so they went to Carthage and complained that the treaty had been broken. They returned to Rome without achieving their goal. Meanwhile, the siege continued. In the eighth or ninth month, the wealthy but ill-fated city was captured. It was dear both to its own people and to Rome. Its people suffered treatment that no one can read about, much less describe, without horror. Yet it bears directly on the matter at hand, so I will briefly describe it. First, famine ravaged the Saguntines. Some even ate human corpses, or so the records say. Later, when they were utterly exhausted, they sought to avoid the disgrace of falling into Hannibal’s hands. They publicly built a huge funeral pyre and threw themselves into its flames. At the same time, they killed their children and themselves with swords. Could these gods do nothing in a case like this? These debauchees and gluttons, whose mouths water for rich sacrifices and whose lips utter false prophecies? Could they not intervene to save a city closely allied with the Roman people? Could they not prevent its destruction for being faithful to an alliance they themselves had helped establish? Saguntum faithfully kept the treaty it had made before these gods and solemnly pledged itself to uphold. Yet it was besieged, captured, and destroyed by a man who had broken his oath. Later, when Hannibal was close to Rome’s walls, the gods supposedly frightened him with lightning and storms and drove him away. If so, why did they not intervene in this way earlier? I dare say that such a display would have been more honorable in defense of Rome’s allies. They were in danger because they refused to break faith with the Romans, and they lacked resources of their own. The Romans, by contrast, were fighting for themselves and had abundant resources to resist Hannibal. If the gods had been guardians of Roman prosperity and glory, they would have spared that glory the stain of Saguntum’s disaster. How foolish, then, to believe that these gods saved Rome from destruction by Hannibal. They could not rescue Saguntum from destruction for its loyalty to Rome’s alliance. If the Saguntines had been Christians and had suffered as they did for the Christian faith, they would have had hope. Of course, Christians would not have used fire and sword against themselves. Their hope would have come from faith in Christ. It would not have been for a brief reward in this life, but for endless, eternal happiness. What will the defenders of these gods say when charged with responsibility for the blood of the Saguntines? After all, people claim to worship and call on the gods to secure prosperity in this brief, passing life. Can they say anything beyond what was said about the death of Regulus? The cases differ, since one concerns an individual and the other a whole community. Yet in both cases, keeping a promise caused their destruction. It was this that made Regulus willing to return to his enemies. It was also this that made the Saguntines unwilling to turn against Rome and join their enemies. Does keeping faith, then, provoke the gods to anger? Or can not only individuals but entire communities perish while the gods look on them with favor? Let our opponents choose. If the gods are angered by faithfulness, let them recruit oath breakers as worshippers. If, however, people and states can suffer great and terrible disasters and finally perish while favored by the gods, then worshipping them does not bring happiness. Those who think they have suffered because their religious worship was abolished should therefore set aside their anger. Even if the gods had not only remained with them but favored them, they might still have mourned an unhappy fate. Like Regulus and the Saguntines, they might even have been horribly tormented and finally died in misery.

21. Of the ingratitude of Rome to Scipio, its deliverer, and of its manners during the period which Sallust describes as the best.

21. How Rome treated Scipio, its deliverer, with ingratitude, and its conduct during the period Sallust describes as its best.

Omitting many things, that I may not exceed the limits of the work I have proposed to myself, I come to the epoch between the second and last Punic wars, during which, according to Sallust, the Romans lived with the greatest virtue and concord. Now, in this period of virtue and harmony, the great Scipio, the liberator of Rome and Italy, who had with surprising ability brought to a close the second Punic war—that horrible, destructive, dangerous contest—who had defeated Hannibal and subdued Carthage, and whose whole life is said to have been dedicated to the gods, and cherished in their temples,—this Scipio, after such a triumph, was obliged to yield to the accusations of his enemies, and to leave his country, which his valour had saved and liberated, to spend the remainder of his days in the town of Liternum, so indifferent to a recall from exile, that he is said to have given orders that not even his remains should lie in his ungrateful country. It was at that time also that the proconsul Cn. Manlius, after subduing the Galatians, introduced into Rome the luxury of Asia, more destructive than all hostile armies. It was then that iron bedsteads and expensive carpets were first used; then, too, that female singers were admitted at banquets, and other licentious abominations were introduced. But at present I meant to speak, not of the evils men voluntarily practise, but of those they suffer in spite of themselves. So that the case of Scipio, who succumbed to his enemies, and died in exile from the country he had rescued, was mentioned by me as being pertinent to the present discussion; for this was the reward he received from those Roman gods whose temples he saved from Hannibal, and who are worshipped only for the sake of securing temporal happiness. But since Sallust, as we have seen, declares that the manners of Rome were never better than at that time, I therefore judged it right to mention the Asiatic luxury then introduced, that it might be seen that what he says is true, only when that period is compared with the others, during which the morals were certainly worse, and the factions more violent. For at that time—I mean between the second and third Punic war—that notorious Lex Voconia was passed, which prohibited a man from making a woman, even an only daughter, his heir; than which law I am at a loss to conceive what could be more unjust. It is true that in the interval between these two Punic wars the misery of Rome was somewhat less. Abroad, indeed, their forces were consumed by wars, yet also consoled by victories; while at home there were not such disturbances as at other times. But when the last Punic war had terminated in the utter destruction of Rome's rival, which quickly succumbed to the other Scipio, who thus earned for himself the surname of Africanus, then the Roman republic was overwhelmed with such a host of ills, which sprang from the corrupt manners induced by prosperity and security, that the sudden overthrow of Carthage is seen to have injured Rome more seriously than her long-continued hostility. During the whole subsequent period down to the time of Cæsar Augustus, who seems to have entirely deprived the Romans of liberty,—a liberty, indeed, which in their own judgment was no longer glorious, but full of broils and dangers, and which now was quite enervated and languishing,—and who submitted all things again to the will of a monarch, and infused as it were a new life into the sickly old age of the republic, and inaugurated a fresh régime;—during this whole period, I say, many military disasters were sustained on a variety of occasions, all of which I here pass by. There was specially the treaty of Numantia, blotted as it was with extreme disgrace; for the sacred chickens, they say, flew out of the coop, and thus augured disaster to Mancinus the consul; just as if, during all these years in which that little city of Numantia had withstood the besieging army of Rome, and had become a terror to the republic, the other generals had all marched against it under unfavourable auspices.

Leaving out many things to keep within the limits of my work, I come to the period between the second and last Punic wars. According to Sallust, the Romans then lived with the greatest virtue and harmony. Yet during this time, the great Scipio had to yield to his enemies’ accusations. He had freed Rome and Italy and, with remarkable skill, ended the second Punic war, that horrible, destructive, dangerous struggle. He had defeated Hannibal and subdued Carthage. His whole life was said to have been devoted to the gods and cherished in their temples. Yet after such a triumph, he was forced to leave the country his courage had saved and freed. He spent the rest of his days in the town of Liternum. He cared so little about being recalled from exile that he is said to have ordered that even his remains should not lie in his ungrateful country. At that time, too, the proconsul Cn. Manlius subdued the Galatians and brought the luxury of Asia into Rome. It was more destructive than all hostile armies. Iron bedsteads and expensive carpets were first used then. Female singers were also admitted to banquets, and other immoral practices were introduced. But for now, I intended to speak not of the evils people willingly commit, but of those they suffer against their will. That is why I mentioned Scipio. He gave way to his enemies and died in exile from the country he had rescued. This was his reward from the Roman gods whose temples he had saved from Hannibal. Those gods are worshipped only to secure happiness in this life. Yet, as we have seen, Sallust says that Rome’s morals were never better than at that time. So I thought it right to mention the Asian luxury then introduced. This shows that his claim is true only when that period is compared with others. In those other periods, morals were certainly worse and factions more violent. For it was then, between the second and third Punic wars, that the notorious Lex Voconia was passed. It forbade a man to name a woman as his heir, even if she was his only daughter. I can hardly imagine a more unjust law. It is true that Rome suffered somewhat less between these two Punic wars. Abroad, its forces were worn down by wars, though they were also consoled by victories. At home, there were fewer disturbances than at other times. But the last Punic war ended with the complete destruction of Rome’s rival. Carthage quickly fell to the other Scipio, who thereby earned the surname Africanus. Then the Roman republic was overwhelmed by a host of ills. These arose from the corrupt morals brought on by prosperity and security. Thus Carthage’s sudden overthrow is seen to have harmed Rome more seriously than its long hostility. Many military disasters occurred on various occasions throughout the following period, down to the time of Caesar Augustus. I pass over them all here. Augustus seems to have entirely deprived the Romans of liberty. In their own judgment, that liberty was no longer glorious, but full of strife and danger. It had now grown weak and was failing. Augustus again subjected everything to the will of one ruler. He breathed, as it were, new life into the republic’s sickly old age and established a new régime. In particular, there was the deeply shameful treaty of Numantia. They say that the sacred chickens flew out of their coop, foretelling disaster for the consul Mancinus. This is said as if, during all the years that the little city of Numantia resisted Rome’s besieging army and became a terror to the republic, the other generals had all marched against it under unfavorable omens.

22. Of the edict of Mithridates, commanding that all Roman citizens found in Asia should be slain.

22. On Mithridates' order that all Roman citizens found in Asia be killed.

These things, I say, I pass in silence; but I can by no means be silent regarding the order given by Mithridates, king of Asia, that on one day all Roman citizens residing anywhere in Asia (where great numbers of them were following their private business) should be put to death: and this order was executed. How miserable a spectacle was then presented, when each man was suddenly and treacherously murdered wherever he happened to be, in the field or on the road, in the town, in his own home, or in the street, in market or temple, in bed or at table! Think of the groans of the dying, the tears of the spectators, and even of the executioners themselves. For how cruel a necessity was it that compelled the hosts of these victims, not only to see these abominable butcheries in their own houses, but even to perpetrate them: to change their countenance suddenly from the bland kindliness of friendship, and in the midst of peace set about the business of war; and, shall I say, give and receive wounds, the slain being pierced in body, the slayer in spirit! Had all these murdered persons, then, despised auguries? Had they neither public nor household gods to consult when they left their homes and set out on that fatal journey? If they had not, our adversaries have no reason to complain of these Christian times in this particular, since long ago the Romans despised auguries as idle. If, on the other hand, they did consult omens, let them tell us what good they got thereby, even when such things were not prohibited, but authorized, by human, if not by divine law.

I pass over these things in silence. But I cannot remain silent about an order given by Mithridates, king of Asia. He ordered that all Roman citizens living anywhere in Asia be killed on a single day. Great numbers of them were there on private business, and the order was carried out. What a miserable sight it was! Each man was suddenly and treacherously murdered wherever he happened to be. They were killed in fields and on roads, in towns, in their own homes, and in the streets. They were killed in markets and temples, in bed and at table. Think of the groans of the dying and the tears of those who watched, even of the killers themselves. What a cruel necessity forced the victims’ hosts to witness these horrible butcheries in their own houses! They were even forced to carry them out. Their friendly faces had to change suddenly, and in the midst of peace they had to wage war. They both gave and received wounds, if I may put it that way. The person killed was pierced in body, and the killer in spirit. Had all these murdered people, then, disregarded omens? Had they no public or household gods to consult when they left home and set out on that fatal journey? If they had not consulted them, our opponents have no reason to complain about Christian times on this point. For long ago Romans disregarded omens as worthless. If, on the other hand, they did consult omens, let our opponents tell us what good it did them. They consulted them when such practices were not forbidden, but permitted by human law, if not by divine law.

23. Of the internal disasters which vexed the Roman republic, and followed a portentous madness which seized all the domestic animals.

23. The internal disasters that troubled the Roman Republic after all the domestic animals were seized by an ominous madness.

But let us now mention, as succinctly as possible, those disasters which were still more vexing, because nearer home; I mean those discords which are erroneously called civil, since they destroy civil interests. The seditions had now become urban wars, in which blood was freely shed, and in which parties raged against one another, not with wrangling and verbal contention, but with physical force and arms. What a sea of Roman blood was shed, what desolations and devastations were occasioned in Italy by wars social, wars servile, wars civil! Before the Latins began the social war against Rome, all the animals used in the service of man—dogs, horses, asses, oxen, and all the rest that are subject to man—suddenly grew wild, and forgot their domesticated tameness, forsook their stalls and wandered at large, and could not be closely approached either by strangers or their own masters without danger. If this was a portent, how serious a calamity must have been portended by a plague which, whether portent or no, was in itself a serious calamity! Had it happened in our day, the heathen would have been more rabid against us than their animals were against them.

But let us now briefly describe those disasters that were even more distressing because they struck closer to home. I mean the conflicts wrongly called civil, since they destroy the interests of the community. Riots had become wars within the city, with blood flowing freely. The factions fought one another not with arguments and angry words, but with force and weapons. What a sea of Roman blood was shed! How much ruin and destruction Italy suffered in wars with its allies, wars with enslaved people, and civil wars! Before the Latins began the war of Rome’s allies against Rome, all animals used by humans suddenly grew wild. Dogs, horses, donkeys, oxen, and all the other animals under human control forgot their domesticated ways. They left their stalls and wandered freely. Neither strangers nor their own masters could approach them closely without danger. If this was a warning, how serious must the disaster it foretold have been! For this plague was itself a serious disaster, whether it was a warning or not. Had it happened in our day, the pagans would have been more savage toward us than their animals were toward them.

24. Of the civil dissension occasioned by the sedition of the Gracchi.

24. On the civil conflict caused by the Gracchi's rebellion.

The civil wars originated in the seditions which the Gracchi excited regarding the agrarian laws; for they were minded to divide among the people the lands which were wrongfully possessed by the nobility. But to reform an abuse of so long standing was an enterprise full of peril, or rather, as the event proved, of destruction. For what disasters accompanied the death of the elder Gracchus! what slaughter ensued when, shortly after, the younger brother met the same fate! For noble and ignoble were indiscriminately massacred; and this not by legal authority and procedure, but by mobs and armed rioters. After the death of the younger Gracchus, the consul Lucius Opimius, who had given battle to him within the city, and had defeated and put to the sword both himself and his confederates, and had massacred many of the citizens, instituted a judicial examination of others, and is reported to have put to death as many as 3000 men. From this it may be gathered how many fell in the riotous encounters, when the result even of a judicial investigation was so bloody. The assassin of Gracchus himself sold his head to the consul for its weight in gold, such being the previous agreement. In this massacre, too, Marcus Fulvius, a man of consular rank, with all his children, was put to death.

The civil wars began with the unrest stirred up by the Gracchi over the agrarian laws. They wanted to divide among the people lands that the nobility had wrongfully taken. But correcting an abuse that had lasted so long was a dangerous undertaking. In fact, as events proved, it was disastrous. What disasters followed the death of the elder Gracchus! What slaughter followed when his younger brother met the same fate shortly afterward! Nobles and commoners alike were massacred without distinction. They were killed not through lawful authority and procedures, but by mobs and armed rioters. After the younger Gracchus died, the consul Lucius Opimius ordered judicial proceedings against others. Opimius had fought Gracchus within the city. He had defeated and killed him and his supporters and massacred many citizens. He is reported to have put as many as 3,000 men to death through these proceedings. This shows how many must have fallen in the violent clashes, when even a judicial investigation had such a bloody outcome. Gracchus's killer sold his head to the consul for its weight in gold, as they had agreed beforehand. In this massacre, Marcus Fulvius, a man who had served as consul, was also put to death with all his children.

25. Of the temple of Concord, which was erected by a decree of the senate on the scene of these seditions and massacres.

25. On the temple of Concord, which the senate ordered built at the site of these uprisings and massacres.

A pretty decree of the senate it was, truly, by which the temple of Concord was built on the spot where that disastrous rising had taken place, and where so many citizens of every rank had fallen.¹⁵¹ I suppose it was that the monument of the Gracchi's punishment might strike the eye and affect the memory of the pleaders. But what was this but to deride the gods, by building a temple to that goddess who, had she been in the city, would not have suffered herself to be torn by such dissensions? Or was it that Concord was chargeable with that bloodshed because she had deserted the minds of the citizens, and was therefore incarcerated in that temple? For if they had any regard to consistency, why did they not rather erect on that site a temple of Discord? Or is there a reason for Concord being a goddess while Discord is none? Does the distinction of Labeo hold here, who would have made the one a good, the other an evil deity?—a distinction which seems to have been suggested to him by the mere fact of his observing at Rome a temple to Fever as well as one to Health. But, on the same ground, Discord as well as Concord ought to be deified. A hazardous venture the Romans made in provoking so wicked a goddess, and in forgetting that the destruction of Troy had been occasioned by her taking offence. For, being indignant that she was not invited with the other gods [to the nuptials of Peleus and Thetis], she created dissension among the three goddesses by sending in the golden apple, which occasioned strife in heaven, victory to Venus, the rape of Helen, and the destruction of Troy. Wherefore, if she was perhaps offended that the Romans had not thought her worthy of a temple among the other gods in their city, and therefore disturbed the state with such tumults, to how much fiercer passion would she be roused when she saw the temple of her adversary erected on the scene of that massacre, or, in other words, on the scene of her own handiwork! Those wise and learned men are enraged at our laughing at these follies; and yet, being worshippers of good and bad divinities alike, they cannot escape this dilemma about Concord and Discord: either they have neglected the worship of these goddesses, and preferred Fever and War, to whom there are shrines erected of great antiquity, or they have worshipped them, and after all Concord has abandoned them, and Discord has tempestuously hurled them into civil wars.

What a fine decree the senate passed when it ordered the Temple of Concord to be built. It stood on the very spot where that disastrous uprising had occurred and so many citizens of every rank had fallen.¹⁵¹ I suppose the monument to the punishment of the Gracchi was meant to catch the eyes of those pleading cases and remind them of it. But was this not a mockery of the gods? They built a temple to a goddess who, had she been in the city, would not have allowed it to be torn apart by such conflicts. Or was Concord responsible for the bloodshed because she had deserted the minds of the citizens? Was that why she was imprisoned in the temple? If they wanted to be consistent, why did they not build a temple to Discord there instead? Or is there a reason why Concord is a goddess but Discord is not? Does Labeo’s distinction apply here? He would have made one a good deity and the other an evil one. He seems to have suggested this distinction simply because he saw temples in Rome to both Fever and Health. But by the same reasoning, Discord should be made a goddess as well as Concord. The Romans took a dangerous risk by provoking such a wicked goddess. They forgot that Troy was destroyed because she had taken offense. She was angry because she had not been invited with the other gods to the wedding of Peleus and Thetis. So she sent in the golden apple and caused a dispute among three goddesses. This led to strife in heaven, victory for Venus, the abduction of Helen, and the destruction of Troy. Perhaps Discord was offended because the Romans had not considered her worthy of a temple among the other gods in their city. Perhaps that was why she stirred up such turmoil in the state. If so, how much angrier she would be to see her rival’s temple built at the scene of that massacre. In other words, it stood at the scene of her own work! Those wise and learned men are furious when we laugh at these follies. Yet they worship both good and evil deities, and they cannot escape this dilemma about Concord and Discord. Either they neglected the worship of these goddesses and preferred Fever and War, whose shrines are very ancient. Or they worshipped them, and Concord abandoned them nonetheless, while Discord violently hurled them into civil wars.

26. Of the various kinds of wars which followed the building of the temple of Concord.

26. On the various kinds of wars that followed the building of the temple of Concord.

But they supposed that, in erecting the temple of Concord within the view of the orators, as a memorial of the punishment and death of the Gracchi, they were raising an effectual obstacle to sedition. How much effect it had, is indicated by the still more deplorable wars that followed. For after this the orators endeavoured not to avoid the example of the Gracchi, but to surpass their projects; as did Lucius Saturninus, a tribune of the people, and Caius Servilius the prætor, and some time after Marcus Drusus, all of whom stirred seditions which first of all occasioned bloodshed, and then the social wars by which Italy was grievously injured, and reduced to a piteously desolate and wasted condition. Then followed the servile war and the civil wars; and in them what battles were fought, and what blood was shed, so that almost all the peoples of Italy, which formed the main strength of the Roman empire, were conquered as if they were barbarians! Then even historians themselves find it difficult to explain how the servile war was begun by a very few, certainly less than seventy gladiators, what numbers of fierce and cruel men attached themselves to these, how many of the Roman generals this band defeated, and how it laid waste many districts and cities. And that was not the only servile war: the province of Macedonia, and subsequently Sicily and the sea-coast, were also depopulated by bands of slaves. And who can adequately describe either the horrible atrocities which the pirates first committed, or the wars they afterwards maintained against Rome?

They thought that building the temple of Concord within sight of the orators would effectively prevent rebellion. It stood as a memorial to the punishment and death of the Gracchi. The even more disastrous wars that followed showed how little effect it had. Afterward, the orators did not try to avoid following the Gracchi’s example. Instead, they tried to surpass their plans. Among them were Lucius Saturninus, a tribune of the people, Caius Servilius the praetor, and later Marcus Drusus. All stirred up rebellions that led first to bloodshed and then to the Social Wars. These wars grievously harmed Italy, leaving it tragically desolate and devastated. Then came the slave war and the civil wars. What battles were fought and what blood was shed! Almost all the peoples of Italy, the main strength of the Roman Empire, were conquered as if they were barbarians. Even historians struggle to explain how the slave war began with so few gladiators, certainly fewer than seventy. They struggle to explain how many fierce and cruel men joined them, how many Roman generals the band defeated, and how it laid waste to many districts and cities. Nor was that the only slave war. Bands of slaves also depopulated the province of Macedonia, and later Sicily and the coast. And who can adequately describe the horrible atrocities the pirates first committed, or the wars they later waged against Rome?

27. Of the civil war between Marius and Sylla.

27. The Civil War Between Marius and Sulla.

But when Marius, stained with the blood of his fellow-citizens, whom the rage of party had sacrificed, was in his turn vanquished and driven from the city, it had scarcely time to breathe freely, when, to use the words of Cicero, "Cinna and Marius together returned and took possession of it. Then, indeed, the foremost men in the state were put to death, its lights quenched. Sylla afterwards avenged this cruel victory; but we need not say with what loss of life, and with what ruin to the republic."¹⁵² For of this vengeance, which was more destructive than if the crimes which it punished had been committed with impunity, Lucan says: "The cure was excessive, and too closely resembled the disease. The guilty perished, but when none but the guilty survived: and then private hatred and anger, unbridled by law, were allowed free indulgence."¹⁵³ In that war between Marius and Sylla, besides those who fell in the field of battle, the city, too, was filled with corpses in its streets, squares, markets, theatres, and temples; so that it is not easy to reckon whether the victors slew more before or after victory, that they might be, or because they were, victors. As soon as Marius triumphed, and returned from exile, besides the butcheries everywhere perpetrated, the head of the consul Octavius was exposed on the rostrum; Cæsar and Fimbria were assassinated in their own houses; the two Crassi, father and son, were murdered in one another's sight; Bebius and Numitorius were disembowelled by being dragged with hooks; Catulus escaped the hands of his enemies by drinking poison; Merula, the flamen of Jupiter, cut his veins and made a libation of his own blood to his god. Moreover, every one whose salutation Marius did not answer by giving his hand, was at once cut down before his face.

Marius had shed the blood of his fellow citizens, whom party hatred had sacrificed. Then he himself was defeated and driven from the city. Rome had barely had time to breathe freely when, in Cicero’s words, "Cinna and Marius returned together and took control of it. Then the leading men of the state were killed, and its lights were extinguished. Sulla later avenged this cruel victory. But we need not say how many lives were lost or how much ruin the republic suffered."¹⁵² This revenge was more destructive than it would have been to leave the crimes unpunished. Lucan says of it: "The cure went too far and too closely resembled the disease. The guilty were killed, but only when none but the guilty survived. Then private hatred and anger were given free rein, unchecked by law."¹⁵³ In the war between Marius and Sulla, many fell in battle. The city, too, was filled with corpses in its streets, squares, markets, theaters, and temples. It is hard to say when the victors killed more. Was it before victory, to win it, or afterward, because they had won? As soon as Marius triumphed and returned from exile, killings took place everywhere. The head of the consul Octavius was displayed on the rostrum. Caesar and Fimbria were murdered in their own homes. The two Crassi, father and son, were murdered before each other’s eyes. Bebius and Numitorius were disemboweled by being dragged with hooks. Catulus escaped his enemies’ hands by drinking poison. Merula, the priest of Jupiter, cut his veins and poured out his own blood as an offering to his god. Anyone whose greeting Marius did not return by offering his hand was immediately struck down before him.

28. Of the victory of Sylla, the avenger of the cruelties of Marius.

28. The victory of Sylla, who avenged the cruelties of Marius.

Then followed the victory of Sylla, the so-called avenger of the cruelties of Marius. But not only was his victory purchased with great bloodshed; but when hostilities were finished, hostility survived, and the subsequent peace was bloody as the war. To the former and still recent massacres of the elder Marius, the younger Marius and Carbo, who belonged to the same party, added greater atrocities. For when Sylla approached, and they despaired not only of victory, but of life itself, they made a promiscuous massacre of friends and foes. And, not satisfied with staining every corner of Rome with blood, they besieged the senate, and led forth the senators to death from the curia as from a prison. Mucius Scævola the pontiff was slain at the altar of Vesta, which he had clung to because no spot in Rome was more sacred than her temple; and his blood well-nigh extinguished the fire which was kept alive by the constant care of the virgins. Then Sylla entered the city victorious, after having slaughtered in the Villa Publica, not by combat, but by an order, 7000 men who had surrendered, and were therefore unarmed; so fierce was the rage of peace itself, even after the rage of war was extinct. Moreover, throughout the whole city every partisan of Sylla slew whom he pleased, so that the number of deaths went beyond computation, till it was suggested to Sylla that he should allow some to survive, that the victors might not be destitute of subjects. Then this furious and promiscuous licence to murder was checked, and much relief was expressed at the publication of the prescription list, containing though it did the death-warrant of two thousand men of the highest ranks, the senatorial and equestrian. The large number was indeed saddening, but it was consolatory that a limit was fixed; nor was the grief at the numbers slain so great as the joy that the rest were secure. But this very security, hard-hearted as it was, could not but bemoan the exquisite torture applied to some of those who had been doomed to die. For one was torn to pieces by the unarmed hands of the executioners; men treating a living man more savagely than wild beasts are used to tear an abandoned corpse. Another had his eyes dug out, and his limbs cut away bit by bit, and was forced to live a long while, or rather to die a long while, in such torture. Some celebrated cities were put up to auction, like farms; and one was collectively condemned to slaughter, just as an individual criminal would be condemned to death. These things were done in peace when the war was over, not that victory might be more speedily obtained, but that, after being obtained, it might not be thought lightly of. Peace vied with war in cruelty, and surpassed it: for while war overthrew armed hosts, peace slew the defenceless. War gave liberty to him who was attacked, to strike if he could; peace granted to the survivors not life, but an unresisting death.

Then came the victory of Sulla, the supposed avenger of Marius’s cruelties. His victory cost much bloodshed. But even after the fighting ended, hatred remained, and the peace that followed was as bloody as the war. The elder Marius had recently carried out massacres. Now the younger Marius and Carbo, who belonged to the same party, committed even greater atrocities. As Sulla approached, they gave up hope not only of victory but of life itself. They massacred friends and enemies alike. Not content with staining every corner of Rome with blood, they surrounded the senate. They led the senators from the senate house to their deaths, as if from a prison. Mucius Scaevola, the high priest, was killed at the altar of Vesta. He had clung to it because no place in Rome was more sacred than her temple. His blood almost put out the fire that the virgins tended constantly. Then Sulla entered the city in victory. At the Villa Publica, he had ordered the slaughter of 7,000 men who had surrendered and were therefore unarmed. They were not killed in combat. So fierce was the rage of peace itself, even after the rage of war had died out. Throughout the city, every supporter of Sulla killed whomever he pleased. The deaths became too numerous to count. At last, someone suggested to Sulla that he should let some people survive, so the victors would have subjects to rule. This furious and indiscriminate freedom to murder was then restrained. Many expressed relief when the proscription list was published. Yet it was a death warrant for 2,000 men of the highest ranks, the senators and equestrians. The large number was indeed saddening, but it was comforting to know that a limit had been set. Grief for the many killed was less than joy that the rest were safe. Yet even those who felt secure, hardened as they were, could not help lamenting the terrible torture inflicted on some condemned men. One man was torn to pieces by the bare hands of his executioners. They treated a living man more savagely than wild beasts tear an abandoned corpse. Another had his eyes gouged out and his limbs cut away piece by piece. He was forced to live for a long time, or rather to die for a long time, in such agony. Some celebrated cities were put up for auction like farms. One city was condemned to slaughter as a whole, just as an individual criminal would be condemned to death. These things were done in peace, when the war was over. They were done not to win victory more quickly, but to ensure that, once won, it would not be taken lightly. Peace rivaled war in cruelty and surpassed it. War overthrew armed armies, while peace killed the defenseless. War allowed those attacked to strike back if they could. Peace granted the survivors not life, but death without resistance.

What fury of foreign nations, what barbarian ferocity, can compare with this victory of citizens over citizens? Which was more disastrous, more hideous, more bitter to Rome: the recent Gothic and the old Gallic invasion, or the cruelty displayed by Marius and Sylla and their partisans against men who were members of the same body as themselves? The Gauls, indeed, massacred all the senators they found in any part of the city except the Capitol, which alone was defended; but they at least sold life to those who were in the Capitol, though they might have starved them out if they could not have stormed it. The Goths, again, spared so many senators, that it is the more surprising that they killed any. But Sylla, while Marius was still living, established himself as conqueror in the Capitol, which the Gauls had not violated, and thence issued his death-warrants; and when Marius had escaped by flight, though destined to return more fierce and bloodthirsty than ever, Sylla issued from the Capitol even decrees of the senate for the slaughter and confiscation of the property of many citizens. Then, when Sylla left, what did the Marian faction hold sacred or spare, when they gave no quarter even to Mucius, a citizen, a senator, a pontiff, and though clasping in piteous embrace the very altar in which, they say, reside the destinies of Rome? And that final proscription list of Sylla's, not to mention countless other massacres, despatched more senators than the Goths could even plunder.

What rage of foreign nations, what barbarian savagery, can compare with this victory of citizens over citizens? Which was more disastrous, more horrible, more bitter for Rome? Was it the recent Gothic invasion and the earlier Gallic invasion? Or was it the cruelty of Marius, Sylla, and their followers toward men who belonged to the same body as themselves? The Gauls killed all the senators they found throughout the city, except on the Capitol. That was the only place defended. But they at least sold the people on the Capitol their lives. They could have starved them out if they could not take it by force. The Goths, in turn, spared so many senators that it is all the more surprising they killed any. But while Marius was still alive, Sylla established himself as conqueror on the Capitol, which the Gauls had not violated. From there he issued death warrants. Marius escaped, though he was destined to return fiercer and more bloodthirsty than ever. Even after his escape, Sylla issued decrees of the senate from the Capitol. These ordered the killing of many citizens and the seizure of their property. Then, when Sylla left, what did the Marian faction treat as sacred or spare? They showed no mercy even to Mucius, a citizen, a senator, and a pontiff. He was pitifully embracing the very altar where, they say, Rome’s destiny resides. And Sylla’s final proscription list killed more senators than the Goths could even rob. This is not to mention countless other massacres.

30. Of the connection of the wars which with great severity and frequency followed one another before the advent of Christ.

30. On the connection between the wars that followed one another with great severity and frequency before the coming of Christ.

With what effrontery, then, with what assurance, with what impudence, with what folly, or rather insanity, do they refuse to impute these disasters to their own gods, and impute the present to our Christ! These bloody civil wars, more distressing, by the avowal of their own historians, than any foreign wars, and which were pronounced to be not merely calamitous, but absolutely ruinous to the republic, began long before the coming of Christ, and gave birth to one another; so that a concatenation of unjustifiable causes led from the wars of Marius and Sylla to those of Sertorius and Catiline, of whom the one was proscribed, the other brought up by Sylla; from this to the war of Lepidus and Catulus, of whom the one wished to rescind, the other to defend the acts of Sylla; from this to the war of Pompey and Cæsar, of whom Pompey had been a partisan of Sylla, whose power he equalled or even surpassed, while Cæsar condemned Pompey's power because it was not his own, and yet exceeded it when Pompey was defeated and slain. From him the chain of civil wars extended to the second Cæsar, afterwards called Augustus, and in whose reign Christ was born. For even Augustus himself waged many civil wars; and in these wars many of the foremost men perished, among them that skilful manipulator of the republic, Cicero. Caius [Julius] Cæsar, when he had conquered Pompey, though he used his victory with clemency, and granted to men of the opposite faction both life and honours, was suspected of aiming at royalty, and was assassinated in the curia by a party of noble senators, who had conspired to defend the liberty of the republic. His power was then coveted by Antony, a man of very different character, polluted and debased by every kind of vice, who was strenuously resisted by Cicero on the same plea of defending the liberty of the republic. At this juncture that other Cæsar, the adopted son of Caius, and afterwards, as I said, known by the name of Augustus, had made his début as a young man of remarkable genius. This youthful Cæsar was favoured by Cicero, in order that his influence might counteract that of Antony; for he hoped that Cæsar would overthrow and blast the power of Antony, and establish a free state,—so blind and unaware of the future was he: for that very young man, whose advancement and influence he was fostering, allowed Cicero to be killed as the seal of an alliance with Antony, and subjected to his own rule the very liberty of the republic in defence of which he had made so many orations.

How shameless, arrogant, impudent, foolish, or rather insane they are! They refuse to blame their own gods for these disasters, yet blame our Christ for the present ones. Their own historians admit that those bloody civil wars were more distressing than any foreign wars. They called them not merely disastrous, but utterly ruinous to the republic. They began long before Christ came, and each gave rise to the next. A chain of unjustifiable causes led from the wars of Marius and Sylla to those of Sertorius and Catiline. Sylla had outlawed Sertorius and raised Catiline. These led to the war between Lepidus and Catulus. Lepidus wanted to overturn Sylla’s acts, while Catulus wanted to defend them. Then came the war between Pompey and Cæsar. Pompey had supported Sylla and equaled or even surpassed him in power. Cæsar condemned Pompey’s power because it was not his own. Yet he gained even greater power after Pompey was defeated and killed. From him, the chain of civil wars extended to the second Cæsar, later called Augustus. Christ was born during his reign. Augustus himself fought many civil wars. Many leading men died in them, including Cicero, that skillful manager of the republic. After Caius [Julius] Cæsar conquered Pompey, he used his victory mercifully. He spared men from the opposing faction and even granted them honors. But he was suspected of seeking royal power. A group of noble senators conspired to defend the republic’s freedom and assassinated him in the senate house. Antony then sought his power. Antony was a very different kind of man, corrupted and degraded by every kind of vice. Cicero fiercely opposed him, also claiming to defend the republic’s freedom. At this point, the other Cæsar appeared on the scene. He was Caius’s adopted son and was later known, as I said, as Augustus. He was a young man of remarkable talent. Cicero supported the young Cæsar so that his influence might counter Antony’s. He hoped Cæsar would overthrow and destroy Antony’s power and establish a free state. Cicero was blind to what the future held. That very young man, whose advancement and influence Cicero had encouraged, allowed him to be killed to seal an alliance with Antony. He also brought under his own rule the very freedom of the republic that Cicero had defended in so many speeches.

Let those who have no gratitude to Christ for His great benefits, blame their own gods for these heavy disasters. For certainly when these occurred the altars of the gods were kept blazing, and there rose the mingled fragrance of "Sabæan incense and fresh garlands;"¹⁵⁴ the priests were clothed with honour, the shrines were maintained in splendour; sacrifices, games, sacred ecstasies, were common in the temples; while the blood of the citizens was being so freely shed, not only in remote places, but among the very altars of the gods. Cicero did not choose to seek sanctuary in a temple, because Mucius had sought it there in vain. But they who most unpardonably calumniate this Christian era, are the very men who either themselves fled for asylum to the places specially dedicated to Christ, or were led there by the barbarians that they might be safe. In short, not to recapitulate the many instances I have cited, and not to add to their number others which it were tedious to enumerate, this one thing I am persuaded of, and this every impartial judgment will readily acknowledge, that if the human race had received Christianity before the Punic wars, and if the same desolating calamities which these wars brought upon Europe and Africa had followed the introduction of Christianity, there is no one of those who now accuse us who would not have attributed them to our religion. How intolerable would their accusations have been, at least so far as the Romans are concerned, if the Christian religion had been received and diffused prior to the invasion of the Gauls, or to the ruinous floods and fires which desolated Rome, or to those most calamitous of all events, the civil wars! And those other disasters, which were of so strange a nature that they were reckoned prodigies, had they happened since the Christian era, to whom but to the Christians would they have imputed these as crimes? I do not speak of those things which were rather surprising than hurtful,—oxen speaking, unborn infants articulating some words in their mothers' wombs, serpents flying, hens and women being changed into the other sex; and other similar prodigies which, whether true or false, are recorded not in their imaginative, but in their historical works, and which do not injure, but only astonish men. But when it rained earth, when it rained chalk, when it rained stones—not hailstones, but real stones—this certainly was calculated to do serious damage. We have read in their books that the fires of Etna, pouring down from the top of the mountain to the neighbouring shore, caused the sea to boil, so that rocks were burnt up, and the pitch of ships began to run,—a phenomenon incredibly surprising, but at the same time no less hurtful. By the same violent heat, they relate that on another occasion Sicily was filled with cinders, so that the houses of the city Catina were destroyed and buried under them,—a calamity which moved the Romans to pity them, and remit their tribute for that year. One may also read that Africa, which had by that time become a province of Rome, was visited by a prodigious multitude of locusts, which, after consuming the fruit and foliage of the trees, were driven into the sea in one vast and measureless cloud; so that when they were drowned and cast upon the shore the air was polluted, and so serious a pestilence produced that in the kingdom of Masinissa alone they say there perished 800,000 persons, besides a much greater number in the neighbouring districts. At Utica they assure us that, of 30,000 soldiers then garrisoning it, there survived only ten. Yet which of these disasters, suppose they happened now, would not be attributed to the Christian religion by those who thus thoughtlessly accuse us, and whom we are compelled to answer? And yet to their own gods they attribute none of these things, though they worship them for the sake of escaping lesser calamities of the same kind, and do not reflect that they who formerly worshipped them were not preserved from these serious disasters.

Let those who show no gratitude to Christ for his great benefits blame their own gods for these terrible disasters. When these disasters occurred, the gods’ altars were certainly kept blazing. The mingled fragrance of "Sabæan incense and fresh garlands" rose from them.¹⁵⁴ The priests were honored, and the shrines were maintained in splendor. Sacrifices, games, and sacred ecstasies were common in the temples. Meanwhile, citizens’ blood was being shed freely, not only in distant places but even among the gods’ altars. Cicero chose not to seek refuge in a temple because Mucius had sought it there in vain. Yet those who slander this Christian age most unforgivably are the very people who fled to places dedicated to Christ. Or else the barbarians led them there for safety. I will not repeat the many examples I have given, or add others that would be tedious to list. But I am convinced of one thing, and every impartial judge will readily agree. Suppose the human race had accepted Christianity before the Punic wars. Suppose, too, that those wars had brought the same devastating disasters upon Europe and Africa after Christianity was introduced. Every one of those who now accuse us would have blamed those disasters on our religion. How unbearable their accusations would have been, at least concerning the Romans, in other circumstances too. Suppose Christianity had been accepted and spread before the invasion of the Gauls, or the devastating floods and fires that ravaged Rome. Or suppose it had spread before the civil wars, the most disastrous events of all. Other disasters were so strange that they were considered prodigies. If they had happened in the Christian age, whom would they have blamed for them as crimes but the Christians? I do not mean events that were more surprising than harmful. Oxen spoke, unborn infants spoke words in their mothers’ wombs, serpents flew, and hens and women changed into the other sex. Similar prodigies are recorded not in their imaginative works but in their histories. Whether true or false, they do not harm people but only astonish them. But when earth, chalk, and stones rained down, not hailstones but real stones, these events could certainly cause serious damage. We have read in their books that fires poured down Mount Etna to the nearby shore. They made the sea boil, burned up rocks, and caused the pitch on ships to run. This was an incredibly astonishing event, but no less harmful. They also relate that, on another occasion, the same intense heat filled Sicily with cinders. The houses of the city of Catina were destroyed and buried under them. This disaster moved the Romans to pity its people and cancel their tribute for that year. We also read that Africa, by then a Roman province, was struck by an enormous swarm of locusts. They consumed the fruit and leaves of the trees. Then they were driven into the sea in one vast, immeasurable cloud. After they drowned and washed ashore, they polluted the air. This caused a plague so severe that, they say, 800,000 people died in the kingdom of Masinissa alone. A much greater number died in the neighboring districts. At Utica, they assure us, only ten of the 30,000 soldiers stationed there survived. Yet which of these disasters, if it happened now, would not be blamed on Christianity? It would be blamed by those who accuse us so thoughtlessly and whom we are compelled to answer. Yet they blame none of these things on their own gods. They worship those gods to escape lesser disasters of the same kind. They do not consider that those who once worshipped them were not saved from these serious disasters.