No More Learning

He is


## p. 6295 (#269) ###########################################

EDWARD GIBBON
6295
represented with false hair of various colors, laboriously arranged
by the skillful artists of the times; a diadem of a new and more
expensive fashion; a profusion of gems and pearls, of collars and
bracelets, and a variegated flowing robe of silk, most curiously
embroidered with flowers of gold. In such apparel, scarcely to
be excused by the youth and folly of Elagabulus, we are at a
loss to discover the wisdom of an aged monarch and the simpli-
city of a Roman veteran. A mind thus relaxed by prosperity and
indulgence was incapable of rising to that magnanimity which
disdains suspicion and dares to forgive. The deaths of Max-
imian and Licinius may perhaps be justified by the maxims of
policy as they are taught in the schools of tyrants; but an im-
partial narrative of the executions, or rather murders, which sul-
lied the declining age of Constantine, will suggest to our most
candid thoughts the idea of a prince who could sacrifice without
reluctance the laws of justice and the feelings of nature, to the
dictates either of his passions or of his interest.
The same fortune which so invariably followed the standard
of Constantine seemed to secure the hopes and comforts of his
domestic life. Those among his predecessors who had enjoyed
the longest and most prosperous reigns, Augustus, Trajan, and
Diocletian, had been disappointed of posterity; and the frequent
revolutions had never allowed sufficient time for any imperial fam-
ily to grow up and multiply under the shade of the purple. But
the royalty of the Flavian line, which had been first ennobled by
the Gothic Claudius, descended through several generations; and
Constantine himself derived from his royal father the hereditary
honors which he transmitted to his children. The Emperor had
been twice married. Minervina, the obscure but lawful object of
his youthful attachment, had left him only one son, who was
called Crispus. By Fausta, the daughter of Maximian, he had
three daughters, and three sons known by the kindred names
of Constantine, Constantius, and Constans. The unambitious
brothers of the great Constantine, Julius Constantius, Dalmatius,
and Hannibalianus, were permitted to enjoy the most honorable
rank and the most affluent fortune that could be consistent with
a private station. The youngest of the three lived without a
name and died without posterity. His two elder brothers ob-
tained in marriage the daughters of wealthy senators, and propa-
gated new branches of the imperial race. Gallus and Julian
afterwards became the most illustrious of the children of Julius


## p. 6296 (#270) ###########################################

6296
EDWARD GIBBON
Constantius the Patrician. The two sons of Dalmatius, who
had been decorated with the vain title of censor, were named
Dalmatius and Hannibalianus. The two sisters of the great
Constantine, Anastasia and Eutropia, were bestowed on Optatus
and Nepotianus, two senators of noble birth and of consular dig-
nity. His third sister, Constantia, was distinguished by her pre-
eminence of greatness and of misery. She remained the widow
of the vanquished Licinius; and it was by her entreaties that
an innocent boy, the offspring of their marriage, preserved for
some time his life, the title of Cæsar, and a precarious hope of
the succession. Besides the females and the allies of the Fla-
vian house, ten or twelve males to whom the language of modern
courts would apply the title of princes of the blood, seemed,
according to the order of their birth, to be destined either to in-
herit or to support the throne of Constantine. But in less than
thirty years this numerous and increasing family was reduced
to the persons of Constantius and Julian, who alone had survived.
a series of crimes and calamities such as the tragic poets have
deplored in the devoted lines of Pelops and of Cadmus.
DEATH OF JULIAN
W
HILE Julian struggled with the almost insuperable difficul-
ties of his situation, the silent hours of the night were
still devoted to study and contemplation. Whenever he
closed his eyes in short and interrupted slumbers, his mind was
agitated with painful anxiety; nor can it be thought surprising
that the Genius of the Empire should once more appear be-
fore him, covering with a funeral veil his head and his horn of
abundance, and slowly retiring from the imperial tent. The
monarch started from his couch, and stepping forth to refresh
his wearied spirits with the coolness of the midnight air, he be-
held a fiery meteor which shot athwart the sky and suddenly
vanished. Julian was convinced that he had seen the menacing
countenance of the god of war; the council which he summoned
of Tuscan Haruspices unanimously pronounced that he should
abstain from action; but on this occasion necessity and reason
were more prevalent than superstition, and the trumpets sounded.
at the break of day. The army marched through a hilly coun-
try, and the hills had been secretly occupied by the Persians.


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EDWARD GIBBON
6297
Julian led the van with the skill and attention of a consummate
general; he was alarmed by the intelligence that his rear was
suddenly attacked. The heat of the weather had tempted him
to lay aside his cuirass; but he snatched a shield from one of his
attendants and hastened with a sufficient reinforcement to the
relief of the rear guard. A similar danger recalled the intrepid
prince to the defense of the front; and as he galloped between
the columns, the centre of the left was attacked and almost
overpowered by a furious charge of the Persian cavalry and ele-
phants. This huge body was soon defeated by the well-timed
evolution of the light infantry, who aimed their weapons, with
dexterity and effect, against the backs of the horsemen and the
legs of the elephants. The Barbarians fled; and Julian, who was
foremost in every danger, animated the pursuit with his voice
and gestures.
His trembling guards, scattered and oppressed
by the disorderly throng of friends and enemies, reminded their
fearless sovereign that he was without armor, and conjured him.
to decline the fall of the impending ruin. As they exclaimed, a
cloud of darts and arrows was discharged from the flying squad-
rons; and a javelin, after razing the skin of his arm, transpierced
the ribs and fixed in the inferior part of the liver. Julian at-
tempted to draw the deadly weapon from his side, but his fingers
were cut by the sharpness of the steel, and he fell senseless
from his horse. His guards flew to his relief, and the wounded
Emperor was gently raised from the ground and conveyed out
of the tumult of the battle into an adjacent tent. The report of
the melancholy event passed from rank to rank; but the grief
of the Romans inspired them with invincible valor and the
desire of revenge. The bloody and obstinate conflict was main-
tained by the two armies till they were separated by the total
darkness of the night. The Persians derived some honor from
the advantage which they obtained against the left wing, where
Anatolius, master of the offices, was slain, and the præfect Sal-
lust very narrowly escaped. But the event of the day was
adverse to the Barbarians. They abandoned the field, their two
generals Meranes and Nohordates, fifty nobles or satraps, and
a multitude of their bravest soldiers; and the success of the
Romans, if Julian had survived, might have been improved into
a decisive and useful victory.
The first words that Julian uttered after his recovery from
the fainting fit into which he had been thrown by loss of blood,


## p. 6298 (#272) ###########################################

6298
EDWARD GIBBON
were expressive of his martial spirit. He called for his horse
and arms, and was impatient to rush into the battle.
His re-
maining strength was exhausted by the painful effort, and the
surgeons who examined his wound discovered the symptoms of
approaching death. He employed the awful moments with the
firm temper of a hero and a sage; the philosophers who had
accompanied him in this fatal expedition compared the tent of
Julian with the prison of Socrates; and the spectators whom
duty or friendship or curiosity had assembled round his couch
listened with respectful grief to the funeral oration of their dying
emperor: "Friends and fellow soldiers, the seasonable period of
my departure is now arrived, and I discharge, with the cheerful-
ness of a ready debtor, the demands of nature. I have learned
from philosophy how much the soul is more excellent than the
body; and that the separation of the nobler substance should be
the subject of joy rather than of affliction. I have learned from
religion that an earthly death has often been the reward of piety;
and I accept, as a favor of the gods, the mortal stroke that
secures me from the danger of disgracing a character which has
hitherto been supported by virtue and fortitude. I die without
remorse, as I have lived without guilt. I am pleased to reflect
on the innocence of my private life; and I can affirm with confi-
dence that the supreme authority, that emanation of the Divine
power, has been preserved in my hands pure and immaculate.
Detesting the corrupt and destructive maxims of despotism, I
have considered the happiness of the people as the end of gov-
ernment. Submitting my actions to the laws of prudence, of
justice, and of moderation, I have trusted the event to the care
of Providence. Peace was the object of my counsels as long
as peace was consistent with the public welfare; but when the
imperious voice of my country summoned me to arms, I exposed
my person to the dangers of war with the clear foreknowledge
(which I had acquired from the art of divination) that I was des-
tined to fall by the sword. I now offer my tribute of gratitude
to the Eternal Being, who has not suffered me to perish by the
cruelty of a tyrant, by the secret dagger of conspiracy, or by the
slow tortures of lingering disease. He has given me, in the midst
of an honorable career, a splendid and glorious departure from
this world; and I hold it equally absurd, equally base, to solicit
or to decline the stroke of fate. Thus much I have attempted to
say; but my strength fails me, and I feel the approach of death.
-
!
"
·
"
"1


## p. 6299 (#273) ###########################################

EDWARD GIBBON
6299
I shall cautiously refrain from any word that may tend to influ-
ence your suffrages in the election of an emperor. My choice
might be imprudent or injudicious; and if it should not be rati-
fied by the consent of the army, it might be fatal to the per-
son whom I should recommend. I shall only, as a good citizen,
express my hopes that the Romans may be blessed with the
government of a virtuous sovereign. " After this discourse, which
Julian pronounced in a firm and gentle tone of voice, he distrib-
uted by a military testament the remains of his private fortune;
and making some inquiry why Anatolius was not present, he
understood from the answer of Sallust that Anatolius was killed,
and bewailed with amiable inconsistency the loss of his friend.
At the same time he reproved the immoderate grief of the spec-
tators, and conjured them not to disgrace by unmanly tears the
fate of a prince who in a few moments would be united with
heaven and with the stars. The spectators were silent; and
Julian entered into a metaphysical argument with the philoso-
phers Priscus and Maximus on the nature of the soul. The
efforts which he made, of mind as well as body, most probably
hastened his death. His wound began to bleed with fresh vio-
lence; his respiration was embarrassed by the swelling of the
veins; he called for a draught of cold water, and as soon as he
had drunk it expired without pain, about the hour of midnight.
Such was the end of that extraordinary man, in the thirty-second
year of his age, after a reign of one year and about eight months
from the death of Constantius. In his last moments he displayed,
perhaps with some ostentation, the love of virtue and of fame
which had been the ruling passions of his life.
THE FALL OF ROME
Α΄
T THE hour of midnight the Salarian gate was silently opened,
and the inhabitants were awakened by the tremendous sound
of the Gothic trumpet. Eleven hundred and sixty-three
years after the foundation of Rome, the imperial city which had
subdued and civilized so considerable a part of mankind was
delivered to the licentious fury of the tribes of Germany and
Scythia.
The proclamation of Alaric, when he forced his entrance into
a vanquished city, discovered however some regard for the laws


## p. 6300 (#274) ###########################################

6300
EDWARD GIBBON
of humanity and religion. He encouraged his troops boldly to
seize the rewards of valor, and to enrich themselves with the
spoils of a wealthy and effeminate people; but he exhorted them
at the same time to spare the lives of the unresisting citizens, and
to respect the churches of the apostles St. Peter and St. Paul
as holy and inviolable sanctuaries. Amidst the horrors of a
nocturnal tumult, several of the Christian Goths displayed the
fervor of a recent conversion; and some instances of their un-
common piety and moderation are related, and perhaps adorned,
by the zeal of ecclesiastical writers. While the Barbarians roamed
through the city in quest of prey, the humble dwelling of an
aged virgin who had devoted her life to the service of the altar
was forced open by one of the powerful Goths. He immediately
demanded, though in civil language, all the gold and silver in
her possession; and was astonished at the readiness with which
she conducted him to a splendid hoard of massy plate of the
richest materials and the most curious workmanship. The Bar-
barian viewed with wonder and delight this valuable acquisition,
till he was interrupted by a serious admonition addressed to
him in the following words: "These," said she, "are the conse-
crated vessels belonging to St. Peter; if you presume to touch
them, the sacrilegious deed will remain on your conscience. For
my part, I dare not keep what I am unable to defend. " The
Gothic captain, struck with reverential awe, dispatched a mes-
senger to inform the King of the treasure which he had dis-
covered, and received a peremptory order from Alaric that all
the consecrated plate and ornaments should be transported, with-
out damage or delay, to the church of the Apostle. From the
extremity, perhaps, of the Quirinal hill, to the distant quarter of
the Vatican, a numerous detachment of Goths, marching in order
of battle through the principal streets, protected with glittering
arms the long train of their devout companions, who bore aloft
on their heads the sacred vessels of gold and silver; and the
martial shouts of the Barbarians were mingled with the sound of
religious psalmody. From all the adjacent houses a crowd of
Christians hastened to join this edifying procession; and a multi-
tude of fugitives, without distinction of age, or rank, or even
of sect, had the good fortune to escape to the secure and hospi-
table sanctuary of the Vatican. The learned work 'Concerning
the City of God' was professedly composed by St. Augustine to
justify the ways of Providence in the destruction of the Roman


## p. 6301 (#275) ###########################################

EDWARD GIBBON
6301
greatness. He celebrates with peculiar satisfaction this memo-
rable triumph of Christ, and insults his adversaries by challenging
them to produce some similar example of a town taken by storm,
in which the fabulous gods of antiquity had been able to protect
either themselves or their deluded votaries.
In the sack of Rome, some rare and extraordinary examples
of Barbarian virtue have been deservedly applauded. But the
holy precincts of the Vatican and the Apostolic churches could
receive a very small proportion of the Roman people; many
thousand warriors, more especially of the Huns who served un-
der the standard of Alaric, were strangers to the name, or at
least to the faith, of Christ; and we may suspect without any
breach of charity or candor that in the hour of savage license,
when every passion was inflamed and every restraint was re-
moved, the precepts of the gospel seldom influenced the behav-
ior of the Gothic Christians. The writers the best disposed to
exaggerate their clemency have freely confessed that a cruel
slaughter was made of the Romans, and that the streets of the
city were filled with dead bodies, which remained without burial
during the general consternation. The despair of the citizens was
sometimes converted into fury; and whenever the Barbarians were
provoked by opposition, they extended the promiscuous massacre
to the feeble, the innocent, and the helpless. The private revenge
of forty thousand slaves was exercised without pity or remorse;
and the ignominious lashes which they had formerly received
were washed away in the blood of the guilty or obnoxious fami-
lies. The matrons and virgins of Rome were exposed to inju-
ries more dreadful, in the apprehension of chastity, than death
itself.
·
The want of youth, or beauty, or chastity protected the great-
est part of the Roman women from the danger of a rape. But
avarice is an insatiate and universal passion, since the enjoyment
of almost every object that can afford pleasure to the different
tastes and tempers of mankind may be procured by the posses-
sion of wealth. In the pillage of Rome, a just preference was
given to gold and jewels, which contain the greatest value in
the smallest compass and weight; but after these portable riches
had been removed by the more diligent robbers, the palaces of
Rome were rudely stripped of their splendid and costly furni-
ture. The sideboards of massy plate, and the variegated ward-
robes of silk and purple, were irregularly piled in the wagons


## p. 6302 (#276) ###########################################

6302
EDWARD GIBBON
that always followed the march of a Gothic army. The most
exquisite works of art were roughly handled or wantonly de-
stroyed; many a statue was melted for the sake of the precious
materials; and many a vase, in the division of the spoil, was
shivered into fragments by the stroke of a battle-axe. The ac-
quisition of riches served only to stimulate the avarice of the
rapacious Barbarians, who proceeded by threats, by blows, and by
tortures, to force from their prisoners the confession of hidden
treasure. Visible splendor and expense were alleged as the
proof of a plentiful fortune; the appearance of poverty was im-
puted to a parsimonious disposition; and the obstinacy of some
misers, who endured the most cruel torments before they would
discover the secret object of their affection, was fatal to many
unhappy wretches, who expired under the lash for refusing to
reveal their imaginary treasures. The edifices of Rome, though
the damage has been much exaggerated, received some injury
from the violence of the Goths. At their entrance through the
Salarian gate, they fired the adjacent houses to guide their
march and to distract the attention of the citizens; the flames,
which encountered no obstacle in the disorder of the night, con-
sumed many private and public buildings; and the ruins of the
palace of Sallust remained, in the age of Justinian, a stately
monument of the Gothic conflagration. Yet a contemporary his-
torian has observed that fire could scarcely consume the enor-
mous beams of solid brass, and that the strength of man was
insufficient to subvert the foundations of ancient structures.
Some truth may possibly be concealed in his devout assertion
that the wrath of Heaven supplied the imperfections of hostile
rage, and that the proud Forum of Rome, decorated with the
statues of so many gods and heroes, was leveled in the dust by
the stroke of lightning.
It was not easy to compute the multitudes who, from an
honorable station and a prosperous future, were suddenly reduced
to the miserable condition of captives and exiles.
The
nations who invaded the Roman empire had driven before them
into Italy whole troops of hungry and affrighted provincials,
less apprehensive of servitude than of famine. The calamities
of Rome and Italy dispersed the inhabitants to the most lonely,
the most secure, the most distant places of refuge.
The
Italian fugitives were dispersed through the provinces, along the
coast of Egypt and Asia, as far as Constantinople and Jerusalem;
•


## p. 6303 (#277) ###########################################

EDWARD GIBBON
6303
and the village of Bethlem, the solitary residence of St. Jerom
and his female converts, was crowded with illustrious beggars
of either sex and every age, who excited the public compassion
by the remembrance of their past fortune. This awful catas-
trophe of Rome filled the astonished empire with grief and
terror. So interesting a contrast of greatness and ruin disposed
the fond credulity of the people to deplore, and even to exag-
gerate, the afflictions of the queen of cities. The clergy, who
applied to recent events the lofty metaphors of Oriental proph-
ecy, were sometimes tempted to confound the destruction of the
capital and the dissolution of the globe.
SILK
I
NEED not explain that silk is originally spun from the bowels
of a caterpillar, and that it composes the golden tomb from
whence a worm emerges in the form of a butterfly. Till the
reign of Justinian, the silkworms who feed on the leaves of the
white mulberry-tree were confined to China; those of the pine,
the oak, and the ash were common in the forests both of Asia
and Europe: but as their education is more difficult, and their
produce more uncertain, they were generally neglected, except
in the little island of Ceos, near the coast of Attica. A thin
gauze was procured from their webs, and this Cean manufacture,
the invention of a woman, for female use, was long admired
both in the East and at Rome. Whatever suspicions may be
raised by the garments of the Medes and Assyrians, Virgil is
the most ancient writer who expressly mentions the soft wool
which was combed from the trees of the Seres or Chinese; and
this natural error, less marvelous than the truth, was slowly
corrected by the knowledge of a valuable insect, the first artifi-
cer of the luxury of nations. That rare and elegant luxury
was censured, in the reign of Tiberius, by the gravest of the
Romans; and Pliny, in affected though forcible language, has
condemned the thirst of gain which explores the last confines of
the earth for the pernicious purpose of exposing to the public
eye naked draperies and transparent matrons. A dress which
showed the turn of the limbs, the color of the skin, might grat-
ify vanity or provoke desire; the silks which had been closely
woven in China were sometimes unraveled by the Phoenician


## p. 6304 (#278) ###########################################

6304
EDWARD GIBBON
women, and the precious materials were multiplied by a looser
texture and the intermixture of linen threads. Two hundred
years after the age of Pliny the use of pure or even of mixed
silks was confined to the female sex, till the opulent citizens of
Rome and the provinces were insensibly familiarized with the
example of Elagabalus, the first who, by this effeminate habit,
had sullied the dignity of an emperor and a man. Aurelian
complained that a pound of silk was sold at Rome for twelve
ounces of gold; but the supply increased with the demand, and
the price diminished with the supply. If accident or monopoly
sometimes raised the value even above the standard of Aurelian,
the manufacturers of Tyre and Berytus were sometimes com-
pelled, by the operation of the same causes, to content them-
selves with a ninth part of that extravagant rate. A law was
thought necessary to discriminate the dress of comedians from
that of senators; and of the silk exported from its native country
the far greater part was consumed by the subjects of Justinian.
They were still more intimately acquainted with a shell-fish of
the Mediterranean, surnamed the silkworm of the sea: the fine
wool or hair by which the mother-of-pearl affixes itself to the
rock is now manufactured for curiosity rather than use; and a
robe obtained from the same singular materials was the gift of
the Roman Emperor to the satraps of Armenia.
A valuable merchandise of small bulk is capable of defraying
the expense of land carriage; and the caravans traversed the
whole latitude of Asia in two hundred and forty-three days from
the Chinese Ocean to the sea-coast of Syria. Silk was immedi-
ately delivered to the Romans by the Persian merchants who fre-
quented the fairs of Armenia and Nisibis; but this trade, which
in the intervals of truce was oppressed by avarice and jealousy,
was totally interrupted by the long wars of the rival monarch-
ies. The great king might proudly number Sogdiana, and even
Serica, among the provinces of his empire: but his real dominion
was bounded by the Oxus; and his useful intercourse with the
Sogdoites beyond the river depended on the pleasure of their
conquerors the white Huns, and the Turks, who successively
reigned over that industrious people. Yet the most savage domin-
ion has not extirpated the seeds of agriculture and commerce,
in a region which is celebrated as one of the four gardens of
Asia; the cities of Samarcand and Bochara are advantageously
seated for the exchange of its various productions; and their


## p. 6305 (#279) ###########################################

EDWARD GIBBON
6305
merchants purchased from the Chinese the raw or manufactured
silk which they transported into Persia for the use of the Roman
Empire. In the vain capital of China, the Sogdian caravans were
entertained as the suppliant embassies of tributary kingdoms;
and if they returned in safety, the bold adventure was rewarded
with exorbitant gain. But the difficult and perilous march from
Samarcand to the first town of Shensi could not be performed
in less than sixty, eighty, or one hundred days: as soon as they
had passed the Jaxartes they entered the desert; and the wan-
dering hordes, unless they are restrained by armies and garri-
sons, have always considered the citizen and the traveler as the
objects of lawful rapine. To escape the Tartar robbers and the
tyrants of Persia, the silk caravans explored a more southern
road; they traversed the mountains of Thibet, descended the
streams of the Ganges or the Indus, and patiently expected, in
the ports of Guzerat and Malabar, the annual fleets of the West.
But the dangers of the desert were found less intolerable than
toil, hunger, and the loss of time; the attempt was seldom re-
newed, and the only European who has passed that unfrequented
way applauds his own diligence, that in nine months after his
departure from Pekin, he reached the mouth of the Indus. The
ocean, however, was open to the free communication of man-
kind. From the great river to the tropic of Cancer, the prov-
inces of China were subdued and civilized by the emperors of
the North; they were filled about the time of the Christian era
with cities and men, mulberry-trees and their precious inhab-
itants; and if the Chinese, with the knowledge of the compass,
had possessed the genius of the Greeks or Phoenicians, they
might have spread their discoveries over the southern hemisphere.
I am not qualified to examine, and I am not disposed to believe,
their distant voyages to the Persian Gulf or the Cape of Good
Hope; but their ancestors might equal the labors and success
of the present race, and the sphere of their navigation might
extend from the Isles of Japan to the Straits of Malacca,—the pil-
lars, if we may apply that name, of an Oriental Hercules. With-
out losing sight of land, they might sail along the coast to the
extreme promontory of Achin, which is annually visited by ten
or twelve ships laden with the productions, the manufactures,
and even the artificers of China; the Island of Sumatra and the
opposite peninsula are faintly delineated as the regions of gold
and silver; and the trading cities named in the geography of
1
IX-395


## p. 6306 (#280) ###########################################

6306
EDWARD GIBBON
Ptolemy may indicate that this wealth was not solely derived
from the mines. The direct interval between Sumatra and Cey-
lon is about three hundred leagues: the Chinese and Indian navi-
gators were conducted by the flight of birds and periodical winds;
and the ocean might be securely traversed in square-built ships,
which instead of iron were sewed together with the strong
thread of the cocoanut. Ceylon, Serendib, or Taprobana, was
divided between two hostile princes; one of whom possessed the
mountains, the elephants, and the luminous carbuncle, and the
other enjoyed the more solid riches of domestic industry, foreign
trade, and the capacious harbor of Trinquemale, which received
and dismissed the fleets of the East and West. In this hospita-
ble isle, at an equal distance (as it was computed) from their
respective countries, the silk merchants of China, who had col-
lected in their voyages aloes, cloves, nutmeg, and sandal-wood,
maintained a free and beneficial commerce with the inhabitants
of the Persian Gulf. The subjects of the great king exalted,
without a rival, his power and magnificence; and the Roman, who
confounded their vanity by comparing his paltry coin with a gold
medal of the Emperor Anastasius, had sailed to Ceylon in an
Ethiopian ship as a simple passenger.
As silk became of indispensable use, the Emperor Justinian
saw with concern that the Persians had occupied by land and sea
the monopoly of this important supply, and that the wealth of
his subjects was continually drained by a nation of enemies and
idolaters. An active government would have restored the trade
of Egypt and the navigation of the Red Sea, which had decayed
with the prosperity of the empire; and the Roman vessels might
have sailed, for the purchase of silk, to the ports of Ceylon, of
Malacca, or even of China. Justinian embraced a more hum-
ble expedient, and solicited the aid of his Christian allies, the
Æthiopians of Abyssinia, who had recently acquired the arts of
navigation, the spirit of trade, and the seaport of Adulis, still
decorated with the trophies of a Grecian conqueror. Along the
African coast they penetrated to the Equator in search of gold,
emeralds, and aromatics; but they wisely declined an unequal
competition, in which they must be always prevented by the vi-
cinity of the Persians to the markets of India; and the Emperor
submitted to the disappointment till his wishes were gratified
by an unexpected event. The gospel had been preached to the
Indians; a bishop already governed the Christians of St. Thomas


## p. 6307 (#281) ###########################################

EDWARD GIBBON
6307
on the pepper coast of Malabar; a church was planted in Ceylon,
and the missionaries pursued the footsteps of commerce to the
extremities of Asia. Two Persian monks had long resided in
China, perhaps in the royal city of Nankin, the seat of a mon-
arch addicted to foreign superstitions, and who actually received
an embassy from the Isle of Ceylon. Amidst their pious occupa-
tions they viewed with a curious eye the common dress of the
Chinese, the manufactures of silk, and the myriads of silkworms,
whose education (either on trees or in houses) had once been
considered as the labor of queens. They soon discovered that it
was impracticable to transport the short-lived insect, but that in
the eggs a numerous progeny might be preserved and multi-
plied in a distant climate. Religion or interest had more power
over the Persian monks than the love of their country: after a
long journey they arrived at Constantinople, imparted their pro-
ject to the Emperor, and were liberally encouraged by the gifts
and promises of Justinian. To the historians of that prince, a
campaign at the foot of Mount Caucasus has seemed more de-
serving of a minute relation than the labors of these missionaries
of commerce, who again entered China, deceived a jealous peo-
ple by concealing the eggs of the silkworm in a hollow cane,
and returned in triumph with the spoils of the East. Under
their direction the eggs were hatched at the proper season by
the artificial heat of dung; the worms were fed with mulberry
leaves; they lived and labored in a foreign climate; a sufficient
number of butterflies were saved to propagate the race, and trees
were planted to supply the nourishment of the rising genera-
tions. Experience and reflection corrected the errors of a new
attempt, and the Sogdoite ambassadors acknowledged in the suc-
ceeding reign that the Romans were not inferior to the natives
of China in the education of the insects and the manufactures
of silk, in which both China and Constantinople have been sur-
passed by the industry of modern Europe. I am not insensible
of the benefits of elegant luxury; yet I reflect with some pain
that if the importers of silk had introduced the art of printing,
already practiced by the Chinese, the comedies of Menander and
the entire decades of Livy would have been perpetuated in the
editions of the sixth century.


## p. 6308 (#282) ###########################################

6308
EDWARD GIBBON
MAHOMET'S DEATH AND CHARACTER
ILL the age of sixty-three years, the strength of Mahomet was
equal to the temporal and spiritual fatigues of his mission.
His epileptic fits, an absurd calumny of the Greeks, would
be an object of pity rather than abhorrence; but he seriously
believed that he was poisoned at Chaibar by the revenge of a
Jewish female. During four years the health of the prophet
declined; his infirmities increased; but his mortal disease was a
fever of fourteen days which deprived him by intervals of the
use of reason. As soon as he was conscious of his danger, he
edified his brethren by the humility of his virtue or penitence.
"If there be any man," said the apostle from the pulpit, "whom
I have unjustly scourged, I submit my own back to the lash of
retaliation. Have I aspersed the reputation of a Mussulman ? let
him proclaim my thoughts in the face of the congregation. Has
any one been despoiled of his goods? the little that I possess shall
compensate the principal and the interest of the debt. " "Yes,"
replied a voice from the crowd, "I am entitled to three drams of
silver. " Mahomet heard the complaint, satisfied the demand, and
thanked his creditor for accusing him in this world rather than
at the day of judgment. He beheld with temperate firmness the
approach of death; enfranchised his slaves (seventeen men, as
they are named, and eleven women), minutely directed the order
of his funeral, and moderated the lamentations of his weeping
friends, on whom he bestowed the benediction of peace. Till the
third day before his death, he regularly performed the function
of public prayer: the choice of Abubeker to supply his place
appeared to mark that ancient and faithful friend as his successor
in the sacerdotal and regal office; but he prudently declined the
risk and envy of a more explicit nomination. At a moment when
his faculties were visibly impaired, he called for pen and ink to
write, or more properly, to dictate, a Divine book, the sum and
accomplishment of all his revelations: a dispute arose in the
chamber whether he should be allowed to supersede the authority
of the Koran, and the prophet was forced to reprove the inde-
cent vehemence of his disciples. If the slightest credit may be
afforded to the traditions of his wives and companions, he main-
tained, in the bosom of his family, and to the last moments of
his life, the dignity of an apostle and the faith of an enthusiast;
described the visits of Gabriel, who bade an everlasting farewell


## p. 6309 (#283) ###########################################

EDWARD GIBBON
6309
to the earth, and expressed his lively confidence not only of the
mercy but of the favor of the Supreme Being. In a familiar
discourse he had mentioned his special prerogative, that the
angel of death was not allowed to take his soul till he had re-
spectfully asked the permission of the prophet. The request was
granted; and Mahomet immediately fell into the agony of his
dissolution: his head was reclined on the lap of Ayesha, the
best beloved of all his wives; he fainted with the violence of
pain; recovering his spirits, he raised his eyes towards the roof
of the house, and with a steady look, though a faltering voice,
uttered the last broken though articulate words:-"O God! .
pardon my sins .
Yes . . I come
among my
fellow-citizens on high;" and thus peaceably expired on a car-
pet spread upon the floor. An expedition for the conquest of
Syria was stopped by this mournful event: the army halted at
the gates of Medina, the chiefs were assembled round their dying
master. The city, more especially the house, of the prophet, was
a scene of clamorous sorrow or silent despair: fanaticism alone
could suggest a ray of hope and consolation. "How can he be
dead- our witness, our intercessor, our mediator with God? By
God, he is not dead: like Moses and Jesus, he is wrapped in a
holy trance, and speedily will he return to his faithful people. "
The evidence of sense was disregarded, and Omar, unsheathing
his cimeter, threatened to strike off the heads of the infidels who
should dare to affirm that the prophet was no more. The tumult
was appeased by the weight and moderation of Abubeker. "Is it
Mahomet," said he to Omar and the multitude, "or the God of
Mahomet, whom you worship? The God of Mahomet liveth for-
ever; but the apostle was a mortal like ourselves, and according
to his own prediction, he has experienced the common fate of
mortality. " He was piously interred by the hands of his nearest
kinsman, on the same spot on which he expired. Medina has
been sanctified by the death and burial of Mahomet, and the
innumerable pilgrims of Mecca often turn aside from the way,
to bow in voluntary devotion before the simple tomb of the
prophet.
At the conclusion of the life of Mahomet it may perhaps be
expected that I should balance his faults and virtues, that I
should decide whether the title of enthusiast or impostor more
properly belongs to that extraordinary man. Had I been inti-
mately conversant with the son of Abdallah, the task would still
-


## p.
6310 (#284) ###########################################

6310
EDWARD GIBBON
be difficult and the success uncertain: at the distance of twelve
centuries, I darkly contemplate his shade through a cloud of
religious incense; and could I truly delineate the portrait of an
hour, the fleeting resemblance would not equally apply to the
solitary of Mount Hera, to the preacher of Mecca, and to the
conqueror of Arabia. The author of a mighty revolution appears
to have been endowed with a pious and contemplative disposition;
so soon as marriage had raised him above the pressure of want,
he avoided the paths of ambition and avarice; and till the age of
forty he lived with innocence, and would have died without a
name. The unity of God is an idea most congenial to nature
and reason; and a slight conversation with the Jews and Christ-
ians would teach him to despise and detest the idolatry of Mecca.
It was the duty of a man and a citizen to impart the doctrine of
salvation, to rescue his country from the dominion of sin and
error. The energy of a mind incessantly bent on the same
object would convert a general obligation into a particular call;
the warm suggestions of the understanding or the fancy would
be felt as the inspirations of Heaven; the labor of thought would
expire in rapture and vision; and the inward sensation, the invis-
ible monitor, would be described with the form and attributes of
an angel of God. From enthusiasm to imposture the step is
perilous and slippery: the dæmon of Socrates affords a memora-
ble instance how a wise man may deceive himself, how a good
man may deceive others, how the conscience may slumber in a
mixed and middle state between self-illusion and voluntary fraud.
Charity may believe that the original motives of Mahomet were
those of pure and genuine benevolence; but a human missionary
is incapable of cherishing the obstinate unbelievers who reject his
claims, despise his arguments, and persecute his life; he might
forgive his personal adversaries, he may lawfully hate the ene-
mies of God; the stern passions of pride and revenge were
kindled in the bosom of Mahomet, and he sighed, like the
prophet of Nineveh, for the destruction of the rebels whom he
had condemned. The injustice of Mecca and the choice of Me-
dina transformed the citizen into a prince, the humble preacher
into the leader of armies; but his sword was consecrated by the
example of the saints, and the same God who afflicts a sinful
world with pestilence and earthquakes might inspire for their con-
version or chastisement the valor of his servants. In the exercise
of political government, he was compelled to abate of the stern


## p. 6311 (#285) ###########################################

EDWARD GIBBON
6311
rigor of fanaticism, to comply in some measure with the preju-
dices and passions of his followers, and to employ even the vices
of mankind as the instruments of their salvation. The use of
fraud and perfidy, of cruelty and injustice, were often subservient
to the propagation of the faith; and Mahomet commanded or
approved the assassination of the Jews and idolaters who had
escaped from the field of battle. By the repetition of such acts
the character of Mahomet must have been gradually stained; and
the influence of such pernicious habits would be poorly compen-
sated by the practice of the personal and social virtues which
are necessary to maintain the reputation of a prophet among his
sectaries and friends. Of his last years, ambition was the ruling
passion; and a politician will suspect that he secretly smiled (the
victorious impostor! ) at the enthusiasm of his youth and the
credulity of his proselytes. A philosopher will observe that their
credulity and his success would tend more strongly to fortify the
assurance of his Divine mission; that his interest and religion were
inseparately connected; and that his conscience would be soothed
by the persuasion that he alone was absolved by the Deity from
the obligation of positive and moral laws. If he retained any
vestige of his native innocence, the sins of Mahomet may be
allowed as an evidence of his sincerity. In the support of truth,
the arts of fraud and fiction may be deemed less criminal; and he
would have started at the foulness of the means, had he not
been satisfied of the importance and justice of the end. Even in
a conqueror or a priest, I can surprise a word or action of un-
affected humanity; and the decree of Mahomet that in the sale.
of captives the mothers should never be separated from their
children, may suspend or moderate the censure of the historian.
The good sense of Mahomet despised the pomp of royalty; the
apostle of God submitted to the menial offices of the family; he
kindled the fire, swept the floor, milked the ewes, and mended
with his own hands his shoes and his woolen garment. Disdain-
ing the penance and merit of a hermit, he observed, without
effort or vanity, the abstemious diet of an Arab and a soldier.
On solemn occasions he feasted his companions with rustic and
hospitable plenty; but in his domestic life, many weeks would
elapse without a fire being kindled on the hearth of the prophet.
The interdiction of wine was confirmed by his example; his hun-
ger was appeased with a sparing allowance of barley bread; he
delighted in the taste of milk and honey, but his ordinary food


## p. 6312 (#286) ###########################################

6312
EDWARD GIBBON
consisted of dates and water. Perfumes and women were the two
sensual enjoyments which his nature required and his religion
did not forbid; and Mahomet affirmed that the fervor of his
devotion was increased by these innocent pleasures. The heat of
the climate inflames the blood of the Arabs, and their libidinous
complexion has been noticed by the writers of antiquity. Their
incontinence was regulated by the civil and religious laws of the
Koran; their incestuous alliances were blamed; the boundless
license of polygamy was reduced to four legitimate wives or
concubines: their rights both of bed and of dowry were equita-
bly determined; the freedom of divorce was discouraged; adul-
tery was condemned as a capital offense; and fornication in
either sex was punished with a hundred stripes. Such were the
calm and rational precepts of the legislator, but in his private
conduct Mahomet indulged the appetites of a man and abused
the claims of a prophet. A special revelation dispensed him from
the laws which he had imposed on his nation: the female sex,
without reserve, was abandoned to his desires; and this singular
prerogative excited the envy rather than the scandal, the ven-
eration rather than the envy, of the devout Mussulmans. If we
remember the seven hundred wives and three hundred concubines
of the wise Solomon, we shall applaud the modesty of the Ara-
bian, who espoused no more than seventeen or fifteen wives;
eleven are enumerated, who occupied at Medina their separate
apartments round the house of the apostle, and enjoyed in their
turns the favor of his conjugal society. What is singular enough,
they were all widows, excepting only Ayesha, the daughter of
Abubeker. She was doubtless a virgin, since Mahomet consum-
mated his nuptials (such is the premature ripeness of the climate)
when she was only nine years of age. The youth, the beauty,
the spirit of Ayesha gave her a superior ascendant; she was
beloved and trusted by the prophet, and after his death the
daughter of Abubeker was long revered as the mother of the
faithful. Her behavior had been ambiguous and indiscreet; in a
nocturnal march she was accidentally left behind, and in the
morning Ayesha returned to the camp with a man.
The temper
of Mahomet was inclined to jealousy; but a Divine revelation
assured him of her innocence: he chastised her accusers, and
published a law of domestic peace, that no woman should be
condemned unless four male witnesses had seen her in the act of
adultery. In his adventures with Zeineb the wife of Zeid, and


## p. 6313 (#287) ###########################################

EDWARD GIBBON
6313
with Mary, an Egyptian captive, the amorous prophet forgot the
interest of his reputation. At the house of Zeid, his freedman
and adopted son, he beheld in a loose undress the beauty of
Zeineb, and burst forth into an ejaculation of devotion and desire.
The servile, or grateful, freedman understood the hint, and
yielded without hesitation to the love of his benefactor. But as
the filial relation had excited some doubt and scandal, the angel
Gabriel descended from heaven to ratify the deed, to annul the
adoption, and gently to reprove the apostle for distrusting the
indulgence of his God. One of his wives, Hafna the daughter
of Omar, surprised him on her own bed, in the embraces of his
Egyptian captive: she promised secrecy and forgiveness; he swore
that he would renounce the possession of Mary. Both parties
forgot their engagements; and Gabriel again descended with a
chapter of the Koran, to absolve him from his oath and to
exhort him freely to enjoy his captives and concubines, without
listening to the clamors of his wives. In a solitary retreat of
thirty days, he labored, alone with Mary, to fulfill the commands.
of the angel. When his love and revenge were satiated, he sum-
moned to his presence his eleven wives, reproached their diso-
bedience and indiscretion, and threatened them with a sentence
of divorce, both in this world and in the next; a dreadful sen-
tence, since those who had ascended the bed of the prophet
were forever excluded from the hope of a second marriage. Per-
haps the incontinence of Mahomet may be palliated by the tradi-
tion of his natural or preternatural gifts; he united the manly
virtue of thirty of the children of Adam; and the apostle might
rival the thirteenth labor of the Grecian Hercules. A more
serious and decent excuse may be drawn from his fidelity to
Cadijah. During the twenty-four years of their marriage, her
youthful husband abstained from the right of polygamy, and the
pride or tenderness of the venerable matron was never insulted
by the society of a rival. After her death he placed her in the
rank of the four perfect women, with the sister of Moses, the
mother of Jesus, and Fatima, the best beloved of his daughters.
"Was she not old? " said Ayesha, with the insolence of a bloom-
ing beauty: "has not God given you a better in her place? »
"No, by God," said Mahomet, with an effusion of honest grati-
tude, "there never can be a better! She believed in me when
men despised me; she relieved my wants when I was poor and
persecuted by the world. "


## p. 6314 (#288) ###########################################

6314
EDWARD GIBBON
THE ALEXANDRIAN LIBRARY
I
SHOULD deceive the expectation of the reader if I passed in
silence the fate of the Alexandrian library as it is described
by the learned Abulpharagius. The spirit of Amrou was
more curious and liberal than that of his brethren, and in his
leisure hours the Arabian chief was pleased with the conversa-
tion of John, the last disciple of Ammonius, and who derived the
surname of Philoponus from his laborious studies of grammar and
philosophy. Emboldened by this familiar intercourse, Philoponus
presumed to solicit a gift, inestimable in his opinion, contempti-
ble in that of the Barbarians the royal library, which alone
among the spoils of Alexandria had not been appropriated by
the visit and the seal of the conqueror. Amrou was inclined to
gratify the wish of the grammarian, but his rigid integrity re-
fused to alienate the minutest object without the consent of the
caliph; and the well-known answer of Omar was inspired by the
ignorance of a fanatic: "If these writings of the Greeks agree
with the book of God, they are useless, and need not be pre-
served; if they disagree, they are pernicious, and ought to be
destroyed. " The sentence was executed with blind obedience,
the volumes of paper or parchment were distributed to the four
thousand baths of the city; and such was their incredible multi-
tude, that six months were barely sufficient for the consumption
of this precious fuel. Since the Dynasties of Abulpharagius have
been given to the world in a Latin version, the tale has been
repeatedly transcribed; and every scholar, with pious indignation,
has deplored the irreparable shipwreck of the learning, the arts,
and the genius, of antiquity. For my own part, I am strongly
tempted to deny both the fact and the consequences. The fact
is indeed marvelous. "Read and wonder! " says the historian
himself; and the solitary report of a stranger who wrote at the
end of six hundred years on the confines of Media is overbal-
anced by the silence of two annalists of a more early date, both
Christians, both natives of Egypt, and the most ancient of whom,
the patriarch Eutychius, has amply described the conquest of
Alexandria. The rigid sentence of Omar is repugnant to the
sound and orthodox precept of the Mahometan casuists: they
expressly declare that the religious books of the Jews and Christ-
ians which are acquired by the right of war should never be


## p. 6315 (#289) ###########################################

EDWARD GIBBON
6315
committed to the flames; and that the works of profane science,
historians or poets, physicians or philosophers, may be lawfully
applied to the use of the faithful. A more destructive zeal may
perhaps be attributed to the first successors of Mahomet; yet in
this instance, the conflagration would have speedily expired in
the deficiency of materials. I shall not recapitulate the disasters
of the Alexandrian library, the involuntary flame that was kin-
dled by Cæsar in his own defense, or the mischievous bigotry of
the Christians, who studied to destroy the monuments of idolatry.
But if we gradually descend from the age of the Antonines to
that of Theodosius, we shall learn from a chain of contemporary
witnesses that the royal palace and the temple of Serapis no
longer contained the four, or the seven, hundred thousand vol-
umes which had been assembled by the curiosity and magnifi-
cence of the Ptolemies. Perhaps the church and seat of the
patriarchs might be enriched with a repository of books; but if
the ponderous mass of Arian and Monophysite controversy were
indeed consumed in the public baths, a philosopher may allow,
with a smile, that it was ultimately devoted to the benefit of man-
kind. I sincerely regret the more valuable libraries which have
been involved in the ruin of the Roman Empire; but when I seri-
ously compute the lapse of ages, the waste of ignorance, and the
calamities of war, our treasures, rather than our losses, are the
objects of my surprise. Many curious and interesting facts are
buried in oblivion; the three great historians of Rome have been
transmitted to our hands in a mutilated state, and we are de-
prived of many pleasing compositions of the lyric, iambic, and
dramatic poetry of the Greeks. Yet we should gratefully remem-
ber that the mischances of time and accident have spared the
classic works to which the suffrage of antiquity had adjudged
the first place of genius and glory; the teachers of ancient knowl-
edge who are still extant had perused and compared the writ-
ings of their predecessors; nor can it fairly be presumed that
any important truth, any useful discovery in art or nature, has
been snatched away from the curiosity of modern ages.


## p. 6316 (#290) ###########################################

6316
EDWARD GIBBON
THE FINAL RUIN OF ROME
IN
THE last days of Pope Eugenius the Fourth, two of his serv-
ants, the learned Poggius and a friend, ascended the Capito-
line Hill, reposed themselves among the ruins of columns and
temples, and viewed from that commanding spot the wide and
various prospect of desolation. The place and the object gave
ample scope for moralizing on the vicissitudes of fortune, which
spares neither man nor the proudest of his works, which buries
empires and cities in a common grave; and it was agreed that in
proportion to her former greatness the fall of Rome was the more
awful and deplorable. "Her primeval state, such as she might
appear in a remote age, when Evander entertained the stranger
of Troy, has been delineated by the fancy of Virgil. This Tar-
peian Rock was then a savage and solitary thicket; in the time of
the poet it was crowned with the golden roofs of a temple; the
temple is overthrown, the gold has been pillaged, the wheel of
fortune has accomplished her revolution, and the sacred ground
is again disfigured with thorns and brambles. The hill of the
Capitol, on which we sit, was formerly the head of the Roman
Empire, the citadel of the earth, the terror of kings; illustrated
by the footsteps of so many triumphs, enriched with the spoils
and tributes of so many nations. This spectacle of the world,
how is it fallen! how changed! how defaced! The path of vic-
tory is obliterated by vines, and the benches of the senators are
concealed by a dunghill. Cast your eyes on the Palatine Hill, and
seek among the shapeless and enormous fragments the marble
theatre, the obelisks, the colossal statues, the porticos of Nero's
palace; survey the other hills of the city,—the vacant space is in-
terrupted only by ruins and gardens. The Forum of the Roman
people, where they assembled to enact their laws and elect their
magistrates, is now inclosed for the cultivation of pot-herbs, or
thrown open for the reception of swine and buffaloes. The pub-
lic and private edifices that were founded for eternity lie pros-
trate, naked, and broken, like the limbs of a mighty giant; and
the ruin is the more visible, from the stupendous relics that have
survived the injuries of time and fortune. "
These relics are minutely described by Poggius, one of the
first who raised his eyes from the monuments of legendary to
those of classic superstition. 1. Besides a bridge, an arch, a


## p. 6317 (#291) ###########################################

EDWARD GIBBON
6317
sepulchre, and the pyramid of Cestius, he could discern, of the
age of the republic, a double row of vaults in the salt office
of the Capitol, which were inscribed with the name and mu-
nificence of Catulus. 2. Eleven temples were visible in some
degree, from the perfect form of the Pantheon to the three arches.
and a marble column of the temple of Peace which Vespasian
erected after the civil wars and the Jewish triumph. 3. Of the
number which he rashly defines, of seven therma, or public
baths, none were sufficiently entire to represent the use and dis-
tribution of the several parts; but those of Diocletian and An-
toninus Caracalla still retained the titles of the founders and
astonished the curious spectator who in observing their solidity
and extent, the variety of marbles, the size and multitude of the
columns, compared the labor and expense with the use and im-
portance. Of the baths of Constantine, of Alexander, of Domi-
tian, or rather of Titus, some vestige might yet be found. 4. The
triumphal arches of Titus, Severus, and Constantine were entire,
both the structure and the inscriptions; a falling fragment was
honored with the name of Trajan; and two arches then extant
in the Flaminian Way have been ascribed to the baser memory
of Faustina and Gallienus. 5. After the wonder of the Coliseum,
Poggius might have overlooked a small amphitheatre of brick,
most probably for the use of the prætorian camp; the theatres of
Marcellus and Pompey were occupied in a great measure by pub-
lic and private buildings; and in the Circus, Agonalis and Max-
imus, little more than the situation and the form could be
investigated. 6. The columns of Trajan and Antonine were still
erect; but the Egyptian obelisks were broken or buried. A peo-
ple of gods and heroes, the workmanship of art, was reduced to
one equestrian figure of gilt brass and to five marble statues, of
which the most conspicuous were the two horses of Phidias and
Praxiteles. 7. The two mausoleums or sepulchres of Augustus
and Hadrian could not totally be lost; but the former was only
visible as a mound of earth, and the latter, the castle of St.
Angelo, had acquired the name and appearance of a modern for-
tress. With the addition of some separate and nameless columns,
such were the remains of the ancient city; for the marks of a
more recent structure might be detected in the walls, which
formed a circumference of ten miles, included three hundred and
seventy-nine turrets, and opened into the country by thirteen
gates.


## p. 6318 (#292) ###########################################

6318
EDWARD GIBBON
This melancholy picture was drawn above nine hundred years
after the fall of the Western Empire, and even of the Gothic
kingdom of Italy. A long period of distress and anarchy, in
which empire, and arts, and riches had migrated from the banks.
of the Tiber, was incapable of restoring or adorning the city;
and as all that is human must retrograde if it do not advance,
every successive age must have hastened the ruin of the works
of antiquity. To measure the progress of decay, and to ascer-
tain, at each era, the state of each edifice, would be an endless
and a useless labor; and I shall content myself with two obser-
vations which will introduce a short inquiry into the general
causes and effects. 1. Two hundred years before the eloquent
complaint of Poggius, an anonymous writer composed a descrip-
tion of Rome. His ignorance may repeat the same objects under
strange and fabulous names. Yet this barbarous topographer had
eyes and ears; he could observe the visible remains; he could
listen to the tradition of the people; and he distinctly enumerates
seven theatres, eleven baths, twelve arches, and eighteen palaces,
of which many had disappeared before the time of Poggius. It
is apparent that many stately monuments of antiquity survived
till a late period, and that the principles of destruction acted
with vigorous and increasing energy in the thirteenth and four-
teenth centuries. 2. The same reflection must be applied to the
three last ages; and we should vainly seek the Septizonium of
Severus, which is celebrated by Petrarch and the antiquarians
of the sixteenth century. While the Roman edifices were still
entire, the first blows, however weighty and impetuous, were re-
sisted by the solidity of the mass and the harmony of the parts;
but the slightest touch would precipitate the fragments of arches
and columns that already nodded to their fall.
After a diligent inquiry, I can discern four principal causes
of the ruin of Rome, which continued to operate in a period of
more than a thousand years. I. The injuries of time and nature.
II. The hostile attacks of the Barbarians and Christians. III.
The use and abuse of the materials. And IV. The domestic
quarrels of the Romans.
I. The art of man is able to construct monuments far more
permanent than the narrow span of his own existence; yet these
monuments, like himself, are perishable and frail; and in the
boundless annals of time his life and his labors must equally be
measured as a fleeting moment. Of a simple and solid edifice it


## p. 6319 (#293) ###########################################

EDWARD GIBBON
6319
is not easy, however, to circumscribe the duration. As the won-
ders of ancient days, the Pyramids attracted the curiosity of the
ancients: a hundred generations, the leaves of autumn, have
dropped into the grave; and after the fall of the Pharaohs and
Ptolemies, the Cæsars and caliphs, the same Pyramids stand erect
and unshaken above the floods of the Nile. A complex figure of
various and minute parts is more accessible to injury and decay;
and the silent lapse of time is often accelerated by hurricanes
and earthquakes, by fires and inundations. The air and earth
have doubtless been shaken, and the lofty turrets of Rome have
tottered from their foundations, but the seven hills do not appear
to be placed on the great cavities of the globe; nor has the city
in any age been exposed to the convulsions of nature which in
the climate of Antioch, Lisbon, or Lima, have crumbled in a few
moments the works of ages in the dust. Fire is the most power-
ful agent of life and death: the rapid mischief may be kindled
and propagated by the industry or negligence of mankind; and
every period of the Roman annals is marked by the repetition of
similar calamities. A memorable conflagration, the guilt or mis-
fortune of Nero's reign, continued, though with unequal fury,
either six or nine days. Innumerable buildings, crowded in close
and crooked streets, supplied perpetual fuel for the flames; and
when they ceased, four only of the fourteen regions were left
entire; three were totally destroyed, and seven were deformed by
the relics of smoking and lacerated edifices. In the full meridian
of empire, the metropolis arose with fresh beauty from her ashes;
yet the memory of the old deplored the irreparable losses, the
arts of Greece, the trophies of victory, the monuments of primi-
tive or fabulous antiquity. In the days of distress and anarchy
every wound is mortal, every fall irretrievable; nor can the dam-
age be restored either by the public care of government or the
activity of private interest. Yet two causes may be alleged, which
render the calamity of fire more destructive to a flourishing than
a decayed city. 1. The more combustible materials of brick,
timber, and metals are first melted and consumed, but the
flames may play without injury or effect on the naked walls and
massy arches that have been despoiled of their ornaments.
2. It
is among the common and plebeian habitations that a mischiev-
ous spark is most easily blown to a conflagration; but as soon as
they are devoured, the greater edifices which have resisted or
escaped are left as so many islands in a state of solitude and


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EDWARD GIBBON
safety. From her situation, Rome is exposed to the danger of
frequent inundations. Without excepting the Tiber, the rivers
that descend from either side of the Apennine have a short and
irregular course; a shallow stream in the summer heats; an im-
petuous torrent when it is swelled in the spring or winter by
the fall of rain and the melting of the snows. When the current
is repelled from the sea by adverse winds, when the ordinary bed
is inadequate to the weight of waters, they rise above the banks
and overspread without limits or control the plains and cities of
the adjacent country. Soon after the triumph of the first Punic
War, the Tiber was increased by unusual rains; and the inunda-
tion, surpassing all former measure of time and place, destroyed
all the buildings that were situate below the hills of Rome.
According to the variety of ground, the same mischief was
produced by different means; and the edifices were either swept
away by the sudden impulse, or dissolved and undermined by
the long continuance of the flood. Under the reign of Augustus
the same calamity was renewed: the lawless river overturned the
palaces and temples on its banks; and after the labors of the
Emperor in cleansing and widening the bed that was incumbered
with ruins, the vigilance of his successors was exercised by sim-
ilar dangers and designs. The project of diverting into new
channels the Tiber itself, or some of the dependent streams, was
long opposed by superstition and local interests; nor did the use
compensate the toil and costs of the tardy and imperfect execu-
tion. The servitude of rivers is the noblest and most important
victory which man has obtained over the licentiousness of nature;
and if such were the ravages of the Tiber under a firm and ac-
tive government, what could oppose, or who can enumerate, the
injuries of the city after the fall of the Western Empire? A
remedy was at length produced by the evil itself: the accumula-
tion of rubbish and the earth that has been washed down from
the hills is supposed to have elevated the plain of Rome four-
teen or fifteen feet perhaps above the ancient level: and the
modern city is less accessible to the attacks of the river.
II. The crowd of writers of every nation who impute the
destruction of the Roman monuments to the Goths and the
Christians, have neglected to inquire how far they were animated
by a hostile principle, and how far they possessed the means and
the leisure to satiate their enmity. In the preceding volumes
of this history I have described the triumph of barbarism and


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EDWARD GIBBON
6321
religion; and I can only resume in a few words their real or
imaginary connection with the ruin of ancient Rome. Our fancy
may create or adopt a pleasing romance: that the Goths and
Vandals sallied from Scandinavia, ardent to avenge the flight of
Odin, to break the chains and to chastise the oppressors of man-
kind; that they wished to burn the records of classic literature,
and to found their national architecture on the broken members
of the Tuscan and Corinthian orders. But in simple truth, the
Northern conquerors were neither sufficiently savage nor suffi-
ciently refined to entertain such aspiring ideas of destruction and
revenge. The shepherds of Scythia and Germany had been edu-
cated in the armies of the Empire, whose discipline they acquired
and whose weakness they invaded; with the familiar use of the
Latin tongue, they had learned to reverence the name and titles
of Rome; and though incapable of emulating, they were more
inclined to admire than to abolish the arts and studies of a
brighter period. In the transient possession of a rich and un-
resisting capital, the soldiers of Alaric and Genseric were stim-
ulated by the passions of a victorious army; amidst the wanton
indulgence of lust or cruelty, portable wealth was the object of
their search; nor could they derive either pride or pleasure from
the unprofitable reflection that they had battered to the ground
the works of the consuls and Cæsars. Their moments were
indeed precious: the Goths evacuated Rome on the sixth, the
Vandals on the fifteenth day, and though it be far more difficult
to build than to destroy, their hasty assault would have made
a slight impression on the solid piles of antiquity. We may
remember that both Alaric and Genseric affected to spare the
buildings of the city; that they subsisted in strength and beauty
under the auspicious government of Theodoric; and that the mo-
mentary resentment of Totila was disarmed by his own temper
and the advice of his friends and enemies. From these innocent
Barbarians the reproach may be transferred to the Catholics of
Rome. The statues, altars, and houses of the dæmons were an
abomination in their eyes; and in the absolute command of the
city, they might labor with zeal and perseverance to erase the
idolatry of their ancestors. The demolition of the temples in
the East affords to them an example of conduct, and to us an
argument of belief; and it is probable that a portion of guilt or
merit may be imputed with justice to the Roman proselytes. Yet
their abhorrence was confined to the monuments of heathen
XI-396


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6322
EDWARD GIBBON
superstition; and the civil structures that were dedicated to
the business or pleasure of society might be preserved without
injury or scandal. The change of religion was accomplished
not by a popular tumult, but by the decrees of the emperors, of
the Senate, and of time. Of the Christian hierarchy, the bishops
of Rome were commonly the most prudent and least fanatic;
nor can any positive charge be opposed to the meritorious act
of saving and converting the majestic structure of the Pantheon.
III. The value of any object that supplies the wants or pleas-
ures of mankind is compounded of its substance and its form, of
the materials and the manufacture. Its price must depend on
the number of persons by whom it may be acquired and used;
on the extent of the market; and consequently on the ease or
difficulty of remote exportation according to the nature of the
commodity, its local situation, and the temporary circumstances
of the world. The Barbarian conquerors of Rome usurped in a
moment the toil and treasure of successive ages; but except the
luxuries of immediate consumption, they must view without
desire all that could not be removed from the city in the Gothic
wagons or the fleet of the Vandals. Gold and silver were the
first objects of their avarice; as in every country, and in the
smallest compass, they represent the most ample command of
the industry and possessions of mankind. A vase or a statue of
those precious metals might tempt the vanity of some Barbarian
chief; but the grosser multitude, regardless of the form, was
tenacious only of the substance; and the melted ingots might be
readily divided and stamped into the current coin of the empire.
The less active or less fortunate robbers were reduced to the
baser plunder of brass, lead, iron, and copper: whatever had
escaped the Goths and Vandals was pillaged by the Greek tyrants;
and the Emperor Constans in his rapacious visit stripped the
bronze tiles from the roof of the Pantheon. The edifices of
Rome might be considered as a vast and various mine: the first
labor of extracting the materials was already performed; the
metals were purified and cast; the marbles were hewn and pol-
ished; and after foreign and domestic rapine had been satiated,
the remains of the city, could a purchaser have been found, were
still venal. The monuments of antiquity had been left naked of
their precious ornaments; but the Romans would demolish with
their own hands the arches and walls, if the hope of profit could
surpass the cost of the labor and exportation. If Charlemagne


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EDWARD GIBBON
6323
had fixed in Italy the seat of the Western Empire, his genius
would have aspired to restore, rather than to violate, the works
of the Cæsars: but policy confined the French monarch to the
forests of Germany; his taste could be gratified only by de-
struction; and the new palace of Aix-la-Chapelle was decorated
with the marbles of Ravenna and Rome. Five hundred years
after Charlemagne, a king of Sicily, Robert,—the wisest and
most liberal sovereign of the age,- was supplied with the same
materials by the easy navigation of the Tiber and the sea; and
Petrarch sighs an indignant complaint that the ancient capital of
the world should adorn from her own bowels the slothful luxury
of Naples. But these examples of plunder or purchase were rare
in the darker ages; and the Romans, alone and unenvied, might
have applied to their private or public use the remaining struct-
ures of antiquity, if in their present form and situation they had
not been useless in a great measure to the city and its inhab-
Cants. The walls still described the old circumference, but the
the
tury
beer
wors
the
a
b
CI
ity had descended from the seven hills into the Campus Martius;
2 some of the noblest monuments which had braved the inju-
res of time were left in a desert, far remote from the habita-
tions of mankind. The palaces of the senators were no longer
adapted to the manners or fortunes of their indigent successors:
use of baths and porticos was forgotten; in the sixth cen-
the games of the theatre, amphitheatre, and circus had
interrupted; some temples were devoted to the prevailing
ip, but the Christian churches preferred the holy figure of
oss; and fashion, or reason, had distributed after a peculiar
the cells and offices of the cloister. Under the ecclesiastical
the number of these pious foundations was enormously
multiplied; and the city was crowded with forty monasteries of
men, twenty of women, and sixty chapters and colleges of canons
and priests, who aggravated instead of relieving the depopula-
tion of the tenth century. But if the forms of ancient archi-
were disregarded by a people insensible of their use
and beauty, the plentiful materials were applied to every call of
necessity or superstition; till the fairest columns of the Ionic and
Corinthian orders, the richest marbles of Paros and Numidia,
were degraded, perhaps to the support of a convent or a stable.
The daily havoc which is perpetrated by the Turks in the cities
of Greece and Asia may afford a melancholy example; and in the
gradual destruction of the monuments of Rome, Sixtus the Fifth
tecture
model
reign,


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6324
EDWARD GIBBON
may alone be excused for employing the stones of the Septizonium
in the glorious edifice of St. Peter's. A fragment, a ruin, how-
soever mangled or profaned, may be viewed with pleasure and
regret; but the greater part of the marble was deprived of sub-
stance, as well as of place and proportion: it was burnt to lime
for the purpose of cement. Since the arrival of Poggius, the
temple of Concord and many capital structures had vanished.
from his eyes; and an epigram of the same age expresses a just
and pious fear that the continuance of this practice would finally
annihilate all the monuments of antiquity. The smallness of their
numbers was the sole check on the demands and depredations of
the Romans. The imagination of Petrarch might create the
presence of a mighty people; and I hesitate to believe that
even in the fourteenth century they could be reduced to a con-
temptible list of thirty-three thousand inhabitants. From that
period to the reign of Leo the Tenth, if they multiplied to the
amount of eighty-five thousand, the increase of citizens was in
some degree pernicious to the ancient city.
IV. I have reserved for the last, the most potent and forcible
cause of destruction, the domestic hostilities of the Romans them-
selves.