Table of Contents

The Greeks

Far, far away from our own country, across wide seas and many strange lands, is a beautiful country called Greece. There the sky is bluer than our own; the winters are short and mild, and the summers long and pleasant. In whatever direction you look, in that land, you may see the top of some tall mountain reaching up toward the sky Between the mountains lie beautiful deep valleys, and small sunny plains, while almost all around the land stretches a bright blue sea.

The people who live in that country are called Greeks, and are not very different now from ourselves. But many centuries ago this was not true. In those long-ago days, there were no newspapers, no railroads, no telegraph lines, such as we are used to now. The people were obliged to live very simply then, and did not have a great many things that we think we could not possibly do without.

But although the old Greeks did not know anything of electric lights and steam engines, and ate the plainest food, and wore the simplest of woolen clothing, they were not at all a rude or savage people. In their cities were fine buildings, and pictures, and statues so beautiful that we can never hope to make better ones. And they had lovely thoughts and fancies, too, for all the world about them.

When they saw the sun rise, they thought that it was a great being called a god, who came up out of the sea in the east, and then journeyed across the sky toward the west. When they saw the grass and flowers springing up out of the dark cold earth, they fancied that there must be another god who made them grow. They imagined that the lightning was the weapon of a mighty god, who ruled the earth and sky. And so they explained everything about them, by thinking that it was caused by some being much greater than themselves. Sometimes they even imagined that they could see their gods in the clouds or in the waves of the sea, and sometimes they thought that they heard them speaking in the rustling leaves of the forest.

The Greeks believed that the whole world was divided among three great gods, who were brothers The first and greatest of these was the god of the heaven and earth. The second was the god of the ocean, the rivers, and the brooks. The third was the god of the under-world, or the dark space beneath the surface of the ground. But besides these, there were many other gods, most of whom were the children of these three or related to them in some way.

The gods were always thought of as larger than men and more beautiful in face and figure They remained always the same, never growing older or dying, as men do. They were not always good, but would often quarrel among themselves, and sometimes do very cruel things. Indeed, they were very much like the men and women who imagined them, except that they could do wonderful things which would have been impossible for the people of the earth.

Besides the greater gods, the Greeks believed that less powerful spirits were all about them. They thought that the trees had guardian spirits who cared for them. Lovely maidens, called Nymphs, were supposed to live in the springs and brooks, and even in the bright waves of the sea. There were spirits, too, who lived in the woods, and wandered among the trees day and night; and still others who made their homes upon the mountain sides.

The Greeks loved their gods, but feared them a little also. They tried to gain their good-will by building beautiful marble temples in their honor, and by offering wine and meat and precious things to them. They never grew tired of thinking and talking about their gods. So they made up many beautiful stories about them, which they told and re-told, and which their children and grandchildren repeated after them for many hundreds of years.

Zeus, the King of the Gods

COLUMNS OF THE TEMPLE AT ZEUS TO ATHENS.

In the northern part of Greece there was a very high mountain called Mount Olympus; so high that during almost all the year its top was covered with snow, and often, too, it was wrapped in clouds. Its sides were very steep, and covered with thick forests of oak and beech trees.

The Greeks thought that the palaces of their gods were above the top of this mountain, far out of the reach of men, and hidden from their sight by the clouds. Here they thought that the gods met together in a grand council hall, and held great feasts, at which they talked over the affairs of the whole world.

Zeus, who ruled over the land and the air, was the king of the gods, and was the greatest and strongest among them. The strength of all the other gods put together could not overcome him. It was he who caused the clouds to form, and who sent the rain to refresh the thirsty earth. His great weapon was the thunderbolt, which he carried in his right hand. But the thunderbolt was seldom used, for the frown and angry nod of Zeus were enough to shake the palaces of the gods themselves.

Although Zeus was so powerful, he was also king and generous to those who pleased him. The people who lived upon the earth loved as well as feared him, and called him father. He was the most just of all the gods. Once when there was a great war between the Greeks and another people, all the other gods took sides, and tried to help those whom they favored all they could. But Zeus did not. He tried to be just, and at last he gave the victory to the side which he thought deserved to have it.

The oak was thought to be sacred to Zeus because it was the strongest and grandest of all the trees. In one part of Greece there was a forest of these, which was called the forest of Dodona. It was so thick and that the sunbeams scarcely found their way through the leaves to the moss upon the ground. Here the wind made strange low sounds among the knotted branches, and people soon began to think that this was their great god Zeus speaking to men through the leaves of his favorite tree So they set this forest apart as sacred to him; and only his servants, who were called priests, were allowed to live in it. People came to this place from all parts of Greece to ask the advice of the god; and the priests would consult with him, and hear his answers in the murmuring of the wind among the branches.

The Greeks also built beautiful temples for their gods, as we build churches. To these temples they brought rich gifts of gold and silver and other precious things, to show how thankful they were for the help which the gods gave them. In each temple there was a great block of marble called the altar, and on this a small fire was often kept burning by the priests. If anyone wished to get the help of one of the gods, he would bring a dove, or a goat, or an ox to the temple, so that the priests might kill it, and burn part of its flesh as an offering. For they thought that the smell of the burning flesh pleased the gods.

Since Zeus was the greatest of the gods, many of the most beautiful temples in Greece were built in his honor. A part of one of these temples to Zeus is still standing, and you can see it if you ever go to Greece. It was made of the finest white marble, and was surrounded on all sides by rows of tall columns beautifully carved

In another temple there was a great statue of Zeus, made of ivory and gold. It was over sixty feet high, and showed the god seated on a great throne which was covered with carving The robe of the god was of solid gold. But it was the face of the statue which the Greeks though was most wonderful. It was so grand and beautiful that they said: "Either the sculptor must have gone up into heaven and seen Zeus upon his throne, or the god must have come down to earth and shown his face to the artist."

Besides building temples for their gods, the Greeks held great festivals in their honor also. The greatest of these festivals was the one which was held in honor of Zeus at a place called Olympia. Every four years messengers would go about from town to town to give notice of it. Then all wars would cease, and people from all over Greece would come to Olympia to worship the god. There they would find the swiftest runners racing for a wreath of olive leaves as a prize. There they would also find chariot races and wrestling matches and other games. The Greeks believed that Zeus and the other gods loved to see men using their strength and skill to do them honor at their festivals. So for months and months beforehand men practiced for these games; and the one who gained the victory in them was looked upon as ever after the favorite of gods and men.

Poseidon, the God of the Sea.

Poseidon was the brother of Zeus, and just as Zeus ruled over the land and the sky, Poseidon ruled over the rivers and the seas. He was always represented as carrying a trident, or fish-spear with three points. When he struck the sea with this, fierce storms would arise; then with a word he could quiet the dashing waves, and make the surface of the water as smooth as that of a pond.

The palace of Poseidon was said to be at the bottom of the sea. It was made of shells and coral, fastened together with gold and silver. The floors were of pearl, and were ornamented with all kids of precious stones. Around the palace were great gardens filled with beautiful sea-plants and vines. The flowers were of the softest and most delicate tints, and were far more beautiful than those growing in the light of the sun. The leaves were not of the deep green which we see on land, but of a most lovely sea-green color. If you should ever go to the sea-coast, and look down through the water, perhaps you also might see the gardens of Poseidon lying among the rocks at the bottom of the sea.

Poseidon rode over the surface of the sea in a chariot made of a huge sea-shell, which was drawn by great sea-horses with golden hoofs and manes. At the approach of the god, the waves would grow quiet, and strange fishes and huge sea-serpents and sea-lions would come to the surface to play about his chariot. Wonderful creatures called Tritons went before and beside his chariot, blowing upon shells as trumpets These Tritons had green hair and eyes; their bodies were like those of men, but instead of legs they had tails like fishes.

Nymphs also swam along by the sea-god’s chariot. Some of these were like the Tritons, half human and half fish. Others were like lovely maidens, with fair faces and hair. Some lived so much in the depths of the sea that their soft blue eyes could not bear the light of day. So they never left the water except in the evening, when they would find some quiet place upon the shore, and dance to the music which they made upon delicate sea-shells.

Poseidon once had a quarrel with one of the goddesses over a piece of land which each one wished to own, and at last they asked the other gods to settle the dispute for them. So at a meeting on Mount Olympus the gods decided that the one who should make the most useful gift to the people should have the land.

When the trial came, Poseidon thought that a spring of water would be an excellent gift He struck a great blow with his trident upon a rocky hill that stood in that land, and a stream of water gushed forth. But Poseidon had lived so much in the sea that he had forgotten that men could drink only fresh water. The spring which he had made was as salt as salt could be, and it was of no use to the people at all. Then the goddess, in her turn, caused an olive-tree to spring up out of the ground. When the gods saw how much use men could make of its fruit and oil, they decided that the goddess had won. So Poseidon did not get the land; but ever afterward the people showed the salt spring and the olive-tree upon the hill-top as a proof that the trial had taken place.

Poseidon was worshiped most by the people who lived by the shore of the sea. Every city along the coast had a temple to Poseidon, where people came to pray to him for fair weather and happy voyages for themselves and for their friends.

Hades, the King of the Dead.

Hades, the god of the under-world, was also a brother of Zeus; but the Greeks did not think of him as being bright and beautiful like the other gods. They believed, indeed, that he helped make the seeds sprout and push their leaves above the surface of the earth, and that he gave men the gold and silver which they dug out of their mines. But more often they thought of him as the god of the gloomy world of the dead; so they imagined that he was dark and stern in appearance, and they feared him more than they did the other gods.

The Greeks thought that when any one died, his soul or shade went at once to the kingdom of Hades. The way to this under-world lay through a cave which was in the midst of a dark and gloomy forest, by the side of a still lake. When they had passed down through this cavern, the shades came to a broad, swift stream of black water. There they found a bent old man named Charon, whose duty it was to take the shades across the stream in a small, leaky boat. But only those spirits could cross whose bodies had been properly burned or buried in the world above; and those whose funerals had not been properly attended to were compelled to wander for a hundred years upon the river-bank before Charon would take them across.

When the shades had crossed the river, they came upon a terrible creature, which guarded the path so that no one who had once passed into the kingdom of the dead could ever come out again. This was the great dog Cerberus, who had three heads, and who barked so fiercely that he could be heard through all the lower world.

Beyond him the shades entered the judgment room, where they were judged for what they had done on earth. If they had lived good lives, they were allowed to enter the fields of the blessed, where flowers of gold bloomed in beautiful meadows; and there they walked and talked with other shades, who had led good lives in the world above. But the Greeks thought that even these spirits were always longing to see the light of day again, for they believed that no life was so happy as that which they lived on the face of the earth.

The shades who had lived bad lives in the world above were dreadfully punished in the world of the dead. There was once a king named Sisyphus, who had been cruel and wicked all his life. When he died, and his shade went down to the under-world, the judge told him that his punishment would be to roll a great stone up a steep hill and down the other side. At first Sisyphus thought that this would be an easy thing to do. But when he had got the stone almost to the top, and it seemed that one more push would send it over and end his task, it suddenly slipped from his hands, and rolled to the foot of the hill again. So it happened every time; and the Greeks believed that Sisyphus would have to keep working in this way as long as the world lasted, and that his task would never be done.

There was once another king, named Tantalus, who was wealthy and fortunate upon earth, and had been loved by the gods of heaven. Zeus had even invited him to sit at his table once, and had told him the secrets of the gods. But Tantalus had not proved worthy of all this honor. He had not been able to keep the secrets that had been trusted to him, but had told them to all the world. So when his shade came before the judge of the dead, he, too, was given a dreadful punishment. He was chained in the midst of a sparkling little lake where the water came up almost to his lips. He was always burning with thirst; but whenever he stooped to drink from the lake, the water sank into the ground before him. He was always hungry, and branches loaded with delicious fruits hung just over him. But whenever he raised his hand to gather them, the breeze swung them just out of his reach. In this way the Greeks thought that Tantalus was to be punished forever because he had told the secrets of the gods.

Hera, the Queen of the Gods

The wife of Zeus was the tall and beautiful goddess Hera. As Zeus was the king of all the gods, so she was their queen. She sat beside him in the council-hall of the gods, on a throne only a little less splendid than his own. She was the greatest of all the goddesses, and was extremely proud of her own strength and beauty.

Hera chose the peacock for her favorite bird, because its plumage was so beautiful. The goddess Iris was her servant and messenger, and flew swiftly through the air upon her errands. The rainbow, which seemed to join heaven and earth with its beautiful arch, was thought to be the road by which Iris traveled.

Here was not only proud of her own beauty, but she was also very jealous of the beauty of any one else. She would even punish women that she thought were too beautiful, as if they had done something very wrong; she often did this by changing them into animals or birds. There was one woman whom Hera changed into the form of a savage bear, and turned out to wander in the forest because she hated her beautiful face. The poor creature was terribly frightened among the fierce animals of the woods; for although she herself now had the form of a beast, her soul was still human. At last Zeus, who was kinder of heart than Hera, took pity upon her. He lifted her far above the earth, and placed her among the stars of heaven; and so, ever after that, the Greeks called one group of stars the Great Bear.

There was once a wood-nymph named Echo, who deceived Hera, and so made her very angry Echo was a merry, beautiful girl, whose tongue was always going, and who was never satisfied unless she could have the last word. As a punishment for her deception, Hera took away her voice, leaving her only the power to repeat the last word that should be spoken to her. Echo now no longer cared to join her companions in their merry games, and so wandered through the forests all alone. But she longed to talk, and would often hide in the woods, and repeat the words of hunters and others who passed that way.

At last she learned to take delight in puzzling and mocking the people who listened to her.

"Who are you?" they would shout at her.

"You," would come her answer.

"Then, who am I?" they would ask, still more puzzled.

"I," Echo would answer in her sweet, teasing manner.

One day Echo met in the woods a young man named Narcissus, and loved him. But he was very unkind, and would take no notice of her except to tease her for the loss of her voice. She became very unhappy, and began to waste away from grief, until at last there was nothing left of her but her beautiful mocking voice.

When the gods found what had happened to the lovely Echo they were very angry. To punish Narcissus for his unkindness, they changed him from a strong young man to a weak, delicate flower, which is now always called by his name.

Apollo, the God of Light

APOLLO

Apollo was the son of Zeus, and was one of the greatest of the gods of Mount Olympus. He was often called the sung-god, because the Greeks thought that he brought the sun’s light and warmth to men. As these are so necessary to every living thing, they thought that Apollo was also the god of health and manly beauty. So he was always represented by the Greeks in their pictures and statues as a strong and beautiful young man.

Apollo was very fond of music, and was in the habit of playing upon the lyre at the feasts of the gods, to the great delight of all who heard him. He was very proud of his skill, and would often have contests with the other gods, and sometimes even with men.

At one of these contests, a king named Midas was present. But instead of deciding , as was usual, that Apollo was much the more skillful player, he was better pleased with another. Apollo became very angry at this, and to show his opinion of Midas he changed his ears into those of a donkey.

It was then the turn of Midas to be vexed. He wore a cap which hid his large, ugly ears; and he allowed no one to learn what had happened to him except the man who cut his hair. Midas made this man promise that he would tell no one of his misfortune But the man longed so to tell that at last he could stand it no longer. He went to the edge of a stream, dug a hole in the earth, and whispered into it the secret Then he filled up the hole, and went away satisfied. But up from that spot sprang a bunch of reeds, which immediately began to whisper on every breeze, "King Midas has donkey’s ears; King Midas has donkey’s ears." And so the story was soon known to the whole world.

The Greeks thought that Apollo caused sudden death among men by shooting swift arrows which never failed of their aim. In this way he punished the wicked, and gave welcome death to the good who were suffering and wished to die.

There was once a great queen named Niobe, who had six sons and six daughters. She was proud of her beauty, and proud of her wealth and power, but proudest of all of her twelve beautiful children. She thought that they were so beautiful, and she loved them so much, that she even dared to boast that she was greater than the mother of Apollo, who had but two children.

This made the goddess very angry, and she begged her son to punish the queen for her wicked pride. Apollo, with his bow and arrows at his side, floated down to the earth hid in a cloud. There he saw the sons of Niobe playing games among the other boys of the city. Quickly he pierced one after another of them with his arrows, and soon the six lay dead upon the ground. The frightened people took up the dead boys gently, and carried them home to their mother. She was broken-hearted, but cried,—

"The gods have indeed punished me, but they have left me my beautiful daughters"

She had scarcely spoken when one after another her daughters fell dead at her feet. Niobe clasped the youngest in her arms to save her from the deadly arrows. When this one, too, was killed, the queen could bear no more. Her great grief turned her to stone, and the people thought that for many years her stone figure stood there with tears flowing constantly from its sad eyes.

One of the most famous temples in Greece was built to Apollo at a place called Delphi. Here there was always a priestess, whose duty it was to tell the people who came there the answers which the god gave to their questions. She would place herself on a seat over a crack in the earth out of which arose a thin stream of gases. By breathing this she was made light-headed for the moment, and then she was supposed to be able to tell the answer which Apollo gave.

These answers were almost always in poetry; and though they were very wise sayings, it was sometimes hard to tell just what the god meant by them. Once a great king wished to begin a war, and asked the advice of Apollo about it at Delphi. The priestess answered, that if he went to war he would destroy a great nation. The king thought that this must mean that he would conquer his enemies, and so he began the war. But, alas, he was conquered himself, and found that it was his own nation which was to be destroyed.

Although these oracles, as they were called, were so hard to understand, the Greeks thought a great deal of them; and they would never begin anything important without first asking the advice of Apollo.

Artemis, the Huntress-Goddess

Artemis was the twin sister of Apollo, and like him she was very skillful with the bow and arrow. When very young, she went to her father, Zeus, and begged him to allow her to live a free and happy life upon the beautiful mountains. Zeus granted her wish, and so she became the great huntress-goddess of the fields and forests.

As Apollo was the god of the sun and the bright daylight, so Artemis was the goddess of the moon. She loved to hunt by moonlight; and when the Greeks made statues of her, they sometimes represented her with a torch held high in one hand and a bow in the other. Artemis always had a band of maidens with her, who ran beside her, and took care of her dogs, and carried her arrows. She could run so swiftly that she could overtake the fleetest deer in the hunt. She and her maidens would dash through the forests with cries and merry laughter, and then when the hunt was over they would bathe in the pure mountain streams.

Artemis loved the woods and mountains so dearly that she rarely left them for the cities of men. But she was very selfish in her love of them, and did not wish to be disturbed in her enjoyment. There was once a young man named Actaeon, who was a great hunter, and who often wandered through the forests alone with his dogs. One day he came upon the goddess Artemis, playing with her maidens upon the banks of a stream. Instead of going away at once, as he should have done, he stood quite still and watched them. This made Artemis so angry that she changed him into a deer, and his own dogs then turned upon him, and tore him to pieces.

Artemis loved all the animals of the forest, but her favorite was the deer. Once a great king of the Greeks killed a doe of which Artemis was very fond. This king was just starting out upon a great war, and he had many vessels in the harbor all ready to sail. But day after day passed, and the wind blew constantly from the wrong direction, and the vessels could not put out to sea. The Greeks grew impatient, and asked the priest why it was that the gods gave them no fair breeze.

Then the priest consulted the gods, and told the people that Artemis was angry because the king had killed her doe, and that she would not let the right winds blow until the king gave up his young daughter to be sacrificed upon the altar of the goddess At first the king refused to do this, for he loved his daughter greatly; but at last he had to consent. Then the beautiful girl was led to the altar, and the priest raised his long knife to strike. But before it fell upon her breast, a cloud dropped over her, and hid her from sight. When it floated away the girl was nowhere to be seen; only a white doe remained in her place, and this the priest sacrificed in her stead.

The goddess had taken pity upon the maiden, and carried her in the midst of that thick cloud far away to a distant country. There she served for a long time as priestess in one of the temples to Artemis. But at last, after many years, her brother found her, and she was allowed to come back to her own country and friends once more.

Athena, the Goddess of Wisdom.

ATHENA

Athena was one of the most powerful of the goddesses. She was called the daughter of Zeus; but the Greeks believed that she had sprung full grown from his head, wearing her helmet and armor. She was more warlike than the other goddesses, and was almost always successful in her battles.

Athena was the goddess of wisdom and learning. The owl was her favorite bird, because of its wise and solemn look, and it is often represented with Athena in the images which the Greeks made of her.

While Artemis loved most the woods and mountains, Athena like the cities better. There she watched over the work and occupations of men, and helped them to find out better ways of doing things. For them she invented the plow and the rake; and she taught men to yoke oxen to the plow that they might till the soil better and more easily. She also made the first bridle, and showed men how to tame horses with it, and make them work for them. She invented the chariot, and the flute, and the trumpet; and she taught men how to count and use numbers. Besides all this, Athena was the goddess of spinning and weaving; and she herself could weave the most beautiful cloths of many colors and of the most marvelous patterns.

There was once a girl named Arachne, who was a skillful weaver, and who was also very proud of her skill. Indeed, she was so proud that once she boasted that she could weave as well as the goddess Athena herself. The goddess heard this boast, and came to Arachne in the form of an old woman. She advised the girl to take back her words, but Arachne refused. Then the bent old woman changed suddenly into the goddess Athena. Arachne was startled and surprised, but in an instant she was ready for the test of skill which the goddess demanded. The two stood at looms side by side, and wove cloth covered with the most wonderful pictures. When the goddess discovered that she could find no fault with Arachne’s work, she became terribly angry. She struck Arachne, and tore the cloth on her loom. Arachne was so frightened by the anger of the goddess that she tried to kill herself. Athena then became sorry for the girl, and saved her life by changing her into a spider. So Arachne lives to this day, and still weaves the most wonderful of all webs upon our walls and ceilings, and upon the grasses by the roadside.

It was not often, though, that Athena was so spiteful as you must think her from the story of Arachne. Usually she was kind and generous; and nothing pleased her better than to help brave, honest men, especially if they were skillful and clever.

The Greeks loved to tell the story of one such man whom Athena helped. His name was Odysseus, and in a great war of the Greeks he had proved himself to be one of the bravest and most cunning of all their chiefs. But in some way he had displeased the god Poseidon so much that when the war was over, and all the other Greeks sailed away in safety, Poseidon would not permit him to reach his far-off home. So for ten years Odysseus was kept far from his wife and child. He was blown about by storms, his ship was wrecked, and he had to meet and overcome giants and all sorts of monsters. Indeed, he had to make a trip down into the dark world of the dead before he could find out how he might manage to get back to his home again. But through it all, Athena was his friend. She watched over him, and encouraged him, and in each difficulty she taught him some trick by which he could escape. At last, after he had suffered much, and had even lost all of the men who had started with him, she brought him safely home again, in spite of all that Poseidon could do to prevent it.

Hephaestus, the Smith-God

Hephaestus, the god of fire and metal-working, was the son of Zeus and Hera. While he was a child, he lived with the sea-nymphs in an ocean cavern. From his very babyhood he could make all kinds of useful and beautiful things, and it was his constant delight to be planning some marvelous invention. When he was grown, he took his place on Mount Olympus with the other gods, and was always busy making things either for himself or for them. Among other wonderful things, he made magic shoes that could tread water or air as easily as earth; caps which made the persons who wore them invisible; and gold and silver dishes that would carry themselves away from the table, without the aid of servants.

Hephaestus had his forge and workshop in his own palace on Mount Olympus. He trained many servants to aid him in his work, and planned twenty great bellows for his forge, which would blow his fire into a fierce heat at a word from him. He had other workshops upon the earth; and wherever there was a volcano with smoke and fire coming from its summit, the people said that there Hephaestus was busy with his giant helpers making wonderful things for the gods.

As you have learned, the gods and goddesses were not always good and kind. One day Hera made her husband angry; and to punish her, Zeus fastened her hands and feet together, and hung her in the air midway between heaven and earth. This was a very cruel way to treat the beautiful and stately Hera, and all the gods pitied her. Hephaestus was so sorry for his mother that he tried to set her free. This made Zeus still more angry, and he struck him so heavily in his rage that poor Hephaestus was thrown headlong from the sky.

Down, down he fell for a whole day, and struck the earth at last upon a beautiful island The fall did not kill him, for he was one of the immortal gods, and could not die; but he fell with such force that he was lame ever afterwards.

Zeus was too deeply angry to allow Hephaestus to return at once to his home among the gods, so he was forced to remain upon his island. After he had recovered from his fall he used to wander about his new home, seeking something with which to busy himself. He found great quantities of gold and silver; but he had no furnace, and so could do nothing with them. But one day he heard a strange rumbling in the earth, and following the sound he came upon a newly formed volcano.

"Here is my furnace," he exclaimed, and immediately began to cut a hole in the mountain to get at the fire. There he set up his workshop, and brought to it some of the gold and silver which he had found. From this he made many wonderful and beautiful things. Among them he made some new thunderbolts, and sent them as a gift to Zeus. In return for these, Zeus recalled him to Mount Olympus.

Hephaestus must have looked very strange in the meetings of the gods after this; for he was ugly and crippled from his fall, while the others were straight and beautiful. But he was the kindest and best-natured of them all, and often served as peace-maker among them. Once while he was trying to settle a quarrel in the assembly of the gods, he took the place of the cup-bearer, and handed about the cup of wine from which they used to drink. But he was so awkward about it that the other gods burst into a shout of laughter as he went limping about. Hephaestus did not care, however; for he had succeeded in stopping the quarrel, and that was what he had wished to do.

Aphrodite, the Goddess of Beauty

APHRODITE

The most beautiful of all the goddesses was Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty. She was often called the "sea-born" goddess, because she was formed one evening from the foam of the sea, where its waves beat upon a rocky shore. Her eyes were as blue as the summer sky overhead, her skin as fair as the white sea-foam from which she came, and her hair as golden as the yellow rays of the setting sun. When she stepped from the water upon the beach, flowers sprang up under her feet; and when she was led into the assembly of the gods, every one admired and loved her.

Zeus, in order to make up for his cruelty to Hephaestus, gave him this beautiful goddess for his wife. The gods prepared for them the grandest wedding possible. All the gods and goddesses were there, bringing with them magnificent gifts for the bride. But the most wonderful of all were the presents given her by Hephaestus himself.

He built many palaces for her, the most marvelous of which was on the island of Cyprus. In the middle of this island was a large blue lake, in which there was another island Upon this Hephaestus built a palace of white marble, with towers and ornaments of gold and silver. It was then filled with wonderful things which the skillful god made to please his wife. Among these were servants of solid gold, that would obey the wishes of Aphrodite without word or sound. There were also golden harps, which made sweet music all day long, without any one playing upon them; and golden birds, which sang the sweetest of songs.

All birds were great favorites of Aphrodite, and they loved her as much as she loved them They taught her their bird language, so that she talked with them as though they had been persons. Of all them, however, she liked the doves and swans the best. Doves fluttered around her head and alighted, on her arms and shoulders, wherever she went; and swans drew her back and forth in a beautiful boat across the waters between her palace and the shore of the lake.

Aphrodite was the kindest and gentlest of the goddesses. The Greeks did not pray to her for power, as they did to Zeus, or for learning and wisdom, as they did to Athena. Instead, they prayed to her to make the persons they cared for love them in return

Once a sculptor, named Pygmalion, tried to make a statue that should be more lovely than the loveliest woman. He chose the finest ivory, and for months and months he worked patiently at his task. As it began to take the form of a beautiful maiden under his skillful chisel, he became so interested in his work that he scarcely took time to eat or sleep. At last the work was finished, and everybody said that the statue was more beautiful than any woman that had ever lived.

But Pygmalion was not satisfied. All day long he would sit in front of his statue and look at it. He came to love it so much at last, that he wished over and over again that it were a real woman, so that t might talk to him, and love him in return. He longed for this in secret until at last he grew bold enough tot ask the gods for help. Then he went to the temple of Aphrodite, and there before the altar he prayed to the goddess to change his statue into a real woman. As he finished his prayer, he saw the altar-fire flame up three times, and he knew that the goddess had heard him. He hastened home, and there he found that his statue of ivory had indeed been turned into a woman of flesh and blood; and all his life long he blessed the goddess Aphrodite for granting his wish.

Hermes, the Messenger of the Gods

HERMES

The Greeks did not always think of their gods as grown-up persons. Sometimes they told stories of their youth and even of their babyhood. According to these stories the god Hermes, who was the son of Zeus, must have been a very wonderful child. They said that when he was but a day old his nurses left him asleep, as they supposed, in his cradle. But the moment that their backs were turned, he climbed out and ran away.

For quite a while he wandered about over the fields and hills, until, by and by, he came upon a herd of cattle that belonged to his elder brother Apollo. These he drove off, and hid in a cave in the mountains. Then, as he thought that by this time his nurses would be expecting him to wake up, he started for home. On the way he came upon a tortoise-shell in the road, and from this he made a harp or lyre by stretching strings tightly across it. He amused himself by playing upon this until he reached home, where he crept back into his cradle again.

Apollo soon discovered the loss of his fine cattle, and was told by an old man that the baby Hermes had driven them away. He went to the mother of Hermes in great anger, and told her that her baby had stolen his cattle. She was astonished, of course, that any one should say such a thing of a baby only a day old, and showed Apollo the child lying in his cradle, fast asleep as it seemed. But Apollo was not deceived by the child’s innocent look. He insisted upon taking him to Mount Olympus; and there before his father Zeus, and the other gods, he accused Hermes of having stolen the herd of oxen.

At first Hermes denied that he had done anything of the kind; and he talked so fast and so well, in defending himself, that all the gods were amused and delighted. Zeus, however, was the most pleased of all; for he was proud of a son who could do such wonderful things while he was so young. But for all his cleverness, Hermes at last had to confess that he had driven the cattle off, and had to go with Apollo, and show him where he had hidden them.

All this time Hermes had with him the lyre which he had made from the tortoise-shell, and as they went along he began to play upon this for Apollo. As you know, Apollo was very fond of music, so he was greatly delighted with this new instrument which Hermes had invented. When Hermes saw how pleased Apollo was he gave him the lyre Apollo was so charmed with the gift, that he quite forgave Hermes for the trick he played him, and, indeed, gave him the whole herd of cattle for his own, in return for the little lyre.

As soon as he was grown, Hermes was made the messenger, or herald, of the gods. He was chosen for this position because he had shown so early that he was a good talkers, and so would be able to deliver the messages well. In order that he might be able to do his errands quickly, he wore a pair of winged sandals on his feet, which carried him through the air as swiftly as a flash of lightning.

He was especially the herald of Zeus. The Greeks though that their dreams came from Zeus himself, and that is was Hermes who brought them, flying swiftly downward through the darkness of the night. But besides this, Hermes served as messenger for all the gods, even for Hades in the under-world. When people died, the Greeks thought that it was Hermes who guided their shades to their dark home underneath the ground

Because he traveled so much himself, Hermes was supposed to take care of all men who traveled upon the earth. In those days it was a far more dangerous thing to make a journey than it is now. Then men had to walk nearly always when they wished to go from one place to another. The roads were bad, and often were only narrow paths that one could scarcely follow. In some places, too, there were robbers who would lie in wait for travelers coming along that way. So, before starting, travelers would offer sacrifices to Hermes, and pray to him to protect them, and grant them a safe journey. All along the roads, were posts of wood, upon which the head of Hermes was carved. These usually stood at the meeting of two roads, and were guideposts, to tell the travelers which way to take.

Ares, the God of War

Ares was the god of war and battle, and cared for almost nothing else. The Greeks believed that the other gods protected them, or helped them in useful ways, and so they loved them. But the only help they could ever expect to get from Ares was that which he might give them when they were at war, and even then he might be on the other side. So, instead of loving him as they did Zeus and Apollo and Athena, they dreaded him, and called him "bloody Ares," and "raging Ares," because of his fierce temper. And although they worshiped him, they did not care to build quite so many temples in his honor as they did for the other gods.

Nothing pleased Ares better than a battle between two great armies. He liked to see the chiefs driving furiously toward each other in their war chariots, with helmets on their heads, and shields on their arms. He liked to see them throw their spears, and shoot their arrows, and strike with their swords at one another. The roar and confusion of the battlefield were delightful to him, and the more men that were killed the better he liked it. Indeed, Ares was so fond of battle that he would often come down from heaven, and take part himself in the fights of men. Then the strongest and bravest of warriors had to give way before him. But although the god was so fond of war, he was not so successful in it as the goddess Athena She used wisdom and cunning to help her in her battles; while Ares never stopped to think, but plunged ahead.

Once during a great war, Ares was fighting against the Greeks, and driving them all before him. When Athena saw this, she went to their aid; for she thought that they had been right in the quarrel which had begun the war, and she did not wish to see them defeated. When Ares saw her upon the Greek side in all her armor, he rushed toward her, and threw his terrible spear against her breast. Athena caught the spear point on her shield, and turned it aside. Then she seized a great rock, and hurled it at Ares. Her aim was so sure that it struck him squarely, and knocked him flat upon his back. He was such an enormous fellow that it was said that his body covered seven acres as he lay there on the ground. Ares was so injured by the blow, that he gave up the fight, and fled to Mount Olympus. Then the Greeks, with the help of Athena, won the victory.

The Greeks loved to tell another story about the way in which Ares was once made prisoner. Long, long ago, they said, two boys were born who were named Otus and Ephialtes. At first they were small and weak, but they grew so rapidly that they soon astonished all men by their size and beauty. When they were yet only nine years old, they had become giants many feet tall, and they were as brave as they were huge. Now, these giants were farmers, and loved to live in peace, and care for their growing grain. But Ares stirred up such constant war among men that their crops were often destroyed, and their fields laid bare.

At last Otus and Ephialtes became very angry at this, and determined to see what they could do to stop it. They were so strong and brave that they had no fear of Ares at all; so they planned and planned, and one day succeeded in taking the war-god prisoner Then, in order to keep him securely, they put him in a great bronze vase. After this, for thirteen months, there were no wars, and their grain fields were undisturbed In spite of all he could do, Ares could not get out; and indeed, he might have had to stay there forever if Hermes had not discovered what had become of him, and set him free.

Demeter, the Earth-Goddess

Demeter was the sister of Zeus, and was the goddess who watched over the fertile earth and the plants that grew out of it. She taught men how to sow grain, and how to cultivate it; so the Greeks worshiped her as the goddess of agriculture. When they made pictures or statues of her, they represented her as carrying bunches of grain and poppies in her hands.

Demeter had a beautiful young daughter named Persephone, whom she loved very much, and who helped her in caring for the grain that men planted. When the seed was dropped into the ground, Persephone watched over it, and guarded it until the tiny green leaves pushed out of the dark earth. Then Demeter cared for it until the plant was grown and the grain was ripened.

One day the young goddess was playing with a number of nymphs in a beautiful meadow. Beds of violets and crocuses and other flowers were growing there, and Persephone was gathering some of the prettiest of the blossoms. Suddenly a great opening appeared in the earth at her feet, and out of this a chariot came rushing. The poor girl was seized, and placed in it, and carried swiftly away in spite of her cries.

When Demeter found that Persephone had been stolen from her, she was almost wild with grief. She lighted a torch, and mounted her chariot drawn by winged snakes, and for nine days and nine nights she searched for her daughter without stopping to eat or to drink. On the tenth day the Sun told her that Zeus had given Persephone to Hades to be his queen, and that he had taken her to the under-world. Then Demeter was very angry. She went far away from the homes of the gods, and hid herself on earth, where she mourned a long time for her daughter.

One day the goddess was sitting by the side of a well, dressed all in black, and looking like some wrinkled old woman, when four young girls came to the well to draw water They were sorry for the old woman, because she seemed so sad and lonely; and they took her home with them to their mother. They did not know, of course, that this old woman was a goddess; but they were all very kind to her, and the mother kept her to nurse her baby son. The little boy reminded the goddess so much of her own child that she grew very fond of him. She wished to make him immortal like the gods, so that he might never grow old or die; and at night, when every one else was asleep, she would lay the child in the fire to burn away the mortal part. But one night the baby’s mother was watching, and screamed aloud when she saw him in the flames. That broke the charm. But though Demeter could not make the boy immortal after that, she did cause him to grow up to be a great and good man.

While Demeter was thus searching for her daughter, there was no one to look after the grain. The seed which was planted in the ground failed to come up; and though men plowed and plowed, nothing would grow. By and by Zeus saw that unless the gods could get Demeter to care for the grain again, the race of men would all die. So he sent the gods one after another to beg her to come back to Mount Olympus. But she refused to do so unless they would give her back her daughter.

Then Zeus sent Hermes down into the underworld to get Persephone. But when he had returned with her they found that she had eaten part of a pomegranate, or love-apple, while she was with Hades; and so she could only be given back to her mother for part of each year.

After that, for two-thirds of the year Persephone was allowed to live with her mother in the light and air of the upper world, but the remainder of the time she was obliged to stay with Hades as queen of the under-world. The Greeks thought that when the bright springtime came it was Persephone returning to her mother, and making all the earth glad by her presence. But when the winter winds blew, and the plants and flowers died, then, they said, she had returned underground, and the earth was left dark and dreary.

Hestia, the Goddess of the Hearth

Hestia had fewer temples than any of the other gods of Mount Olympus, but she was worshiped the most of all. This was because she was the hearth-goddess,—that is, the goddess of the fireside,—and so had part in all the worship of the Greek home.

The Greeks said that it was Hestia who first taught men how to build houses. As their houses were so very different from the ones in which we live, perhaps you would like to know something about them. In the days when these old Greeks were so brave and noble, and had such beautiful thoughts about the world, they did not care much what kind of houses they lived in. The weather in their country was so fine that they did not stay in-doors very much. Besides, they cared more about building suitable temples for the gods, and putting up beautiful statues about the city, than they did about building fine houses for themselves.

So their houses were usually very small and plain. They did not have a yard around the houses, but built them close together, as we do in some of our large cities. Instead of having their yard in front, or at the sides of the house, they had it in the middle, with the house built all around it. That is the way many people in other lands build their houses even now; and this inner yard they call a court-yard. Around three sides of the court-yard the Greeks had pleasant porches in wh8ich the boys and girls could play when it was too hot for them to be out in the open yard And opening off on all sides from the porches were the rooms of the house.

In the middle of one of the largest of these rooms, there was always an altar to the goddess Hestia. This was a block of stone on which a fire was always kept burning. The Greeks did not have chimneys to their houses, so they would leave a square hole in the roof just over the altar to let the smoke out. And as they had no stoves, all the food for the family was usually cooked over this fire on the altar.

Whenever there was any change made in the family they offered sacrifices to Hestia. If a baby was born, or if there was a wedding, or if one of the family died, they must sacrifice to Hestia. Also whenever any one set out on a journey, or returned home from one, and even when a new slave was brought into the family, Hestia must be worshiped, or else they were afraid some evil would come upon their home.

The Greeks thought that the people of a city were just a larger family, so they thought that every city, as well as every house, must have an altar to Hestia. In the town-hall, where the men who ruled the city met together, there was an altar to the goddess of the hearth; and on it, too, a fire was always kept burning. These old Greeks were very careful never to let this altar fire go out. If by any chance it did go out, then they were not allowed to start it again from another fire, or even to kindle it by striking a bit of flint and piece of steel together,—for of course they had not matches. They were obliged to kindle it either by rubbing two dry sticks together, or else by means of a burning-glass. Otherwise they thought Hestia would be displeased.

The Greeks were a daring people, and very fond of going to sea, and trading with distant countries Sometimes, indeed, part of the people of a city would decide to leave their old home, and start a new city in some far-off place with which they traded. When such a party started out, they always carried with them some of the sacred fire from the altar of Hestia in the mother city. With this they would light the altar-fire in their new home. In this way the worship of Hestia helped to make the Greeks feel that they were all members of one great family, and prevented those who went away from forgetting the city from which they came.

Dionysus, the God of Wine-Making

The gods of Mount Olympus did not always remain high up in heaven, out of the reach and sight of men. The Greeks told many stories of what they did on earth as well. You have read that Artemis loved to wander over the mountains, and hunt the deer in the forests. Hephaestus had his workshops wherever there were great volcanoes. Hermes often appeared to men as a messenger from Zeus; and the other gods also would often come down in the shape of men or women to give advice or reproof to their favorites.

But the god Dionysus did much more than this. For many years he lived on earth among men He was the son of Zeus, though he was brought up on earth by forest-spirits. Perhaps it was from these that he learned to love fresh growing plants and climbing vines full of fruit; but however that may be, he became the god of the grape and of wine. When he was grown, he did not join the other gods on Mount Olympus, but set out on a long, long journey, through all the countries of the world, teaching men everywhere how to plant and tend the grapevine, and how to press the juice from the ripe fruit, and make it into wine.

With him, in his journeys, went bands of strange wood-spirits, who danced and made music before him, and waited upon him. Wherever he and his band were well treated, the god was kind and generous to all, and taught many useful things. But sometimes the kings did not want their people to learn the new things which he taught, and then he would punish the selfish rulers very severely.

At one time during his journey, Dionysus was wandering alone upon a sea-beach, when a ship came sailing by near the shore. The men in the ship were pirates; and as soon as they saw the beautiful youth they sent men ashore, who seized him, and carried him aboard the ship. They expected to sell him as a slave in some distant country, for in those days any one who happened to be made a prisoner could be sold into slavery. But the pirates soon discovered that their prisoner was not an ordinary person. When they tried to tie him so that he could not escape, the ropes fell off his hands and feet of their own accord. Then suddenly the masts and sails became covered with climbing vines full of bunches of rich, ripe grapes, and streams of bubbling wine flowed through the ship. This was all very astonishing to the pirates; and when the prisoner changed from a slender young man into a roaring lion, and sprang upon their captain, they became very much frightened. When a great bear also appeared in their midst, they could stand it no longer, and all jumped overboard except one who had wanted to set the prisoner free. As he, too, was about to jump, Dionysus changed back into his own form, and told him to stay and have no fear The god even took pity on the others, and saved them from drowning by changing them into a sort of fish called dolphins.

When Dionysus had finished his long journey he went up to Mount Olympus, and took his place among the other gods. The people of the earth worshiped him in temples, as they did the other gods; but besides this they held great festivals in his honor each year. One of these festivals came in the springtime, when the vines began to grow; and another when the grapes had ripened, and the wine had been made. At these festivals the people had great processions, and men would go about singing and dancing as the wood-spirits had sung and danced before Dionysus on his journey Poets, too, would sing verses to the music of the lyre, and in these they told about the adventures of the god. At length they began to have theaters, and regular performances in them, at these festivals. So Dionysus became not only the god of the grape and of wine, but also of the theater.

Pan, the God of Shepherds

Pan was not one of the great gods of Mount Olympus. He lived upon the earth, and was the god of the fields and forests and wild mountain sides. Therefore the Greeks thought that he was the protector of herdsmen and hunters, who were obliged to wander far away from the cities and settled parts of the country.

Pan was not beautiful, like most of the gods; indeed, he was a very strange looking figure He had legs and hoofs like a goat, and little horns upon his forehead, so that he seemed half man and half animal. He was a noisy fellow, with a great, deep voice which was so terrible that when he shouted the bravest men would run away in fear.

The people were usually afraid of Pan, and dreaded meeting him when they were obliged to pass through lonely parts of the country. But there was no reason for this; for in spite of his strange shape and his noisiness, Pan was a very gentle and good-natured old fellow. He loved music, and was fond of playing upon a kind of pipe which he made out of the reeds that grow by the rivers. The wood-nymphs and wood-spirits would often gather around, and dance to his music when he played.

Pan was worshiped especially by the country people. But there was one city called Athens where he was honored as much as anywhere else in Greece, and this is the way it came about. Athens was once threatened by a great army, which was coming to destroy the city, and kill or make slaves of its people. The Athenians were afraid that they would not be able to defend themselves alone, and so determined to send to another city called Sparta for aid. For this purpose they chose their swiftest runner, whose name was Pheidippides; and he set out, alone and on foot, for Sparta

The way lay through a rough, mountainous country, where the road became only a rocky path, winding over the mountains and down into the valleys. Pheidippides traveled with all speed, running most of the way, and scarcely stopping for rest or food. After two days and two nights, he entered the city of Sparta, and breathlessly begged them for help. But the Spartans received him coldly, and would give him no promise of aid. Then, without waiting for rest, Pheidippides was off again for Athens, to tell the Athenians that they must fight alone; but his heart was heavy as he thought how easily they might be conquered by so great an army.

As he was racing along the way back to Athens, he suddenly came upon a strange figure standing by the roadside. It was the god Pan, with his smiling eyes, curling beard, and great goat-legs. Pheidippides stood still in fear; but the god called to him kindly and said:—

"Why is it, Pheidippides, that they do not worship me, and ask me for help, at Athens? I have helped them many times before this, and they may be sure that I will help them now."

Then the god disappeared, and Pheidippides’ fear was changed to joy. He sprang forward upon the road, running faster than ever to carry the good news. When he reached Athens, the people were comforted by the promise which the god had given him, and they marched bravely out to battle with as large an army as they could gather. Their enemies had ten soldiers for every one that Athens had; but the thought of the god gave them courage, and they fought so well that they won the victory, and the city was saved. Many of the Athenians used to tell afterward how they saw the great god Pan fighting on their side that day, and overthrowing the enemy by hundreds. Perhaps they only imagined it, but at least they believed it very earnestly; and after that battle the Athenians always worshiped and honored Pan more than did any other people in Greece.

Helios, the Sun-God

The Greeks did not know that the earth was round. They believed that it was flat, and that the sun moved over it each day from east to west. They thought that each morning the goddess of the Dawn threw open the eastern gates of the sky, and the golden chariot of the sun rolled out. This was drawn by twelve swift horses, and was so brilliant that men’s eyes could not bear to look at it. In the chariot stood the god Helios, with the rays of the sun flaming around his head.

It took great skill to drive the chariot on hits long day’s journey. Helios had to guide it with much are, so as not to drive too near the earth and scorch it. The way during the morning was up a steep ascent. At noon the chariot reached the summit of the course, and began to descend toward the west. The way then was rough, and the descent so steep that the horses were in danger of falling headlong. But the journey was always finished in safety, and the weary horses entered the gates of the Evening.

There were two beautiful palaces for Helios, one in the east at the gates of the Dawn, and the other in the west at the gates of the Evening. To get from his western palace back to his palace at the gates of the Dawn, Helios, with his horses and the chariot of the sun, was obliged to sail underneath the world during the night in a golden boat made by the god Hephaestus.

Helios had a son named Phaethon, who wished greatly to drive the chariot of the sun, and begged his father to allow him to guide it for one day. The god at first refused, saying,—

"Only my hands are strong enough to drive those spirited horses upon that dangerous road."

But Phaethon would not be denied. He begged until at last his father consented. Helios placed the young man in the flaming chariot, and fastened the burning rays of the sun around his forehead. Then, as Dawn opened the eastern gates, the horses sprang forward. Bu they soon felt that their master’s hands were not upon the reins. Phaethon was much too weak to guide the twelve strong horses. They dashed from the track downward toward the earth, setting fire to mountain-tops and forests, and boiling the water in the rivers and brooks. Then they whirled up among the stars, burning them, and setting the very heavens on fire.

When Helios saw what terrible mischief was being done, he begged Zeus for aid. To save the world from being destroyed, Zeus hurled a mighty thunderbolt at Phaethon, which struck him, and knocked him headlong from the sky. Then he sent a great rain, which lasted many days. Finally, when the flames were out, the gods saw how great the damage was. Whole countries were left bare and blackened; and though the plants soon began to grow again almost everywhere, some places are still barren to this day. And some races of men were so scorched by the great heat that the color of their skins has remained black or brown ever since.

The Elder Gods

The Greeks did not believe that Zeus and the other gods of Mount Olympus were the only ones that had ever ruled over the world. They thought that there had been other great gods long before Zeus, or Poseidon, or Hades, had even been born.

Uranus was the first ruler of the gods, while the earth was still young, and there were yet no men on it to be governed. He had many children, who were called Titans. These were huge, fierce gods, and even their father sometimes found it difficult to control them. Indeed, some of them were so strong and terrible that Uranus did not dare to allow them the freedom of the earth and sky, but kept them shut up tight and fast in the very deepest and darkest places inside the earth. Three of these prisoners were giants, each with a hundred hands; and others of them had only one great eye in the middle of the forehead.

Uranus may have been quite right in dreading these strange gods, and putting them away where they could do no harm; but their mother was angry when she discovered that they had been fastened in the depths of the earth. She was not strong enough herself to set them free, so she could only try to punish Uranus for his cruelty. She gave her youngest son Cronus a sharp sickle for weapon, and told him to drive his father Uranus from the throne of the gods.

Cronus succeeded in wounding Uranus, and took the throne himself; and he and the other Titans ruled together for a long time. But Cronus never felt secure upon his throne; for he was always fearing that one of his own children would overthrow him, as he had overthrown his father. At last this really came to pass. Zeus and Hades and Poseidon were the children of Cronus; and after many years they rose against him, and drove him from the throne.

But although their king was conquered, the other Titans did not give up without a struggle. There were many of them, and they were still very strong and powerful; so they tried to regain what had been conquered by the younger gods. The battle between them lasted for ten long years, and the Titans seemed almost victorious. But at last Zeus set free the hundred-handed and one-eyed giants from their prison in the earth, and asked them to help him. Then they came rushing to his aid, bringing thunder and lightning and earthquakes as weapons. With their help the Titans were conquered, and buried deep under the islands of the sea, so that they might never make further trouble.

Zeus kept the thunder and lightning, which the giants had brought, as his especial weapons, and ruled as king of the younger gods. But he felt as unsafe upon his throne as his father Cronus had felt before him. He was always fearing lest some one of the gods should become stronger than he and conquer him, as he had conquered Cronus, and Cronus had conquered Uranus.

Sometimes the gods were afraid of those who were not gods at all, and who were much less powerful than the Titans whom they had conquered. Perhaps you will remember Otus and Ephialtes, the two young giants who put Ares in a vase, and kept him shut up fro so many months. After they had succeeded so well with Ares they seemed to think that it would be a good plan to treat all the gods in the same way, so that men might be left to themselves upon the earth, with no one to rule over them, or tell them what they should or should not do. So they set about making war upon the gods. As they were mortals, like the other men upon the earth, Otus and Ephialtes could not follow the gods high up in heaven; so to get at them they began to pile one mountain on top of another. When the gods saw the two young giants moving the great mountains of the earth, they were afraid for a while that they might be driven from their homes in the sky. But Apollo, the archer, came down from heaven in a cloud, and soon the two giants were shot dead by the arrows from his golden bow.

Prometheus, the Fire-Giver

In the great war between the elder and the younger gods, two of the Titans took sides with Zeus against their brother Titans. The chief of these two was Prometheus; and it was because Zeus followed the wise advice which he gave, that the friends of Cronus were defeated, and Zeus became king of the gods in his place.

We should suppose that after this Zeus would have honored Prometheus always, and treated him as kindly as possible. But instead of that, in a little while Zeus became very angry with him, and punished him more severely, almost, than any one else was ever punished. This is the way it happened.

When Zeus became king of the gods, the men upon the earth were nothing more than savages They lived in caves, and wore skins of wild animals, and ate all their food raw because they did not know how to make fires to cook it. Prometheus felt sorry for them, and wanted to teach them many things; but Zeus would not allow him. At last Prometheus decided that he would help them nevertheless. So he stole some of the fire that the gods kept in heave, and brought it down to men hidden in the hollow stalk of a plant. From that time on, men began to make all kinds of things, which they could not have made without the help of fire; and they improved greatly in their manner of living. As Prometheus had also shut up all sicknesses and sorrows in a great chest in his home, so that men might not be troubled by them, it seemed as if they would soon become as happy as the gods themselves.

When Zeus saw what Prometheus had done he was very angry. To prevent men from becoming too proud and powerful, the gods made a beautiful maiden out of clay, and sent her to the brother of Prometheus, to be his wife. She was very curious about everything around her, and one of the first things that she did was to open the great chest which she found in the house. Then all the troubles, which Prometheus had so carefully shut up, at once flew out; and from that day to this, men have had to suffer for the curiosity of this girl, Pandora.

In order to punish Prometheus, Zeus had him chained fast by his hands and feet to a great lonely mountain, where the hot sun shone down on him day after day, and the rains and the storms beat upon him. But Prometheus was as brave and proud as Zeus was cruel. In spite of all that he suffered, he foretold that by and by there would come another god who would conquer Zeus just as Zeus had conquered his father Cronus When Zeus heard this, he sent Hermes to ask who this new god would be. But Prometheus refused to tell, unless Zeus would set him free. Then Zeus hurled great mountains upon Prometheus, and buried him in the earth far down below the world of the dead After many, many years, he brought him up, and fastened him to his mountain again; and then he sent an eagle to pick and tear at his liver every day, while every night the wound healed afresh. But still Prometheus refused to tell the secret that would save Zeus from losing his throne. So for ten thousand years he suffered in this way.

At last Zeus was compelled to yield, and Prometheus was set free. Then he told the danger that hung over Zeus, and how it could be avoided. And by following the advice that Prometheus gave, Zeus was saved from losing his throne.

Because Prometheus had done so much for the race of men, and had suffered so much in their cause, the Greeks were always very grateful to him. But as he was not one of the great gods who ruled the world, they did not build temples to him or worship him, as they did the gods of Mount Olympus.

Proteus, the Old Man of the Sea

The other Titan who helped Zeus in the great war of the gods was named Oceanus. He had been one of the old sea-gods; and when Poseidon became the god of the sea, he let Oceanus and all his many children have part under him in ruling the great ocean and the other waters of the earth.

The most interesting of all the children of Oceanus was his son Proteus, whose duty is was to care for Poseidon’s sea-calves, as the Greeks called the seals. Every day he led them up on the land, where they lay and slept on the rocks and the warm sea-sands. The Greeks never though of Proteus as being young and beautiful like the gods of Mount Olympus. Instead of that they represented him in their pictures and in their stories as an old, old man, covered with the foam of the ocean, and with sea-weed and sea-shells clinging to his beard and his long gray hair.

One of the wonderful things that this old sea-god could do was to change into the shape of anything he wished. Once the ship0s of a famous Greek king, while they were sailing back from a great war, were blown about for a long while, so that he could not reach home. The king was told that some god was angry with him, and that the only way to reach home would be to seize the god Proteus, and force him to tell him what to do.

So at daybreak one morning the king and three of the bravest and strongest of his men set out for a cave by the shore, where Proteus came every day. There they made hollows in the sand, and lay down in them, and covered themselves with the skins of some sea-calves that they had brought with them. In a little while great numbers of sea-calves came out of the water, and lay down beside them in the cave and went to sleep. At noon Proteus himself came and counted his flock, and then he, too, lay down to sleep in their midst.

Then the king and his men sprang up, and seized the old sea-god. To escape from them, Proteus tried all his changes. First he became a great lion with a shaggy mane Then he became a panther. Then he changed to a snake, and twisted and turned in their hands. Then he became a tree, covered with rustling leaves. Then he changed into flaming fire; and last of all he turned into flowing water.

But in spite of all these wonderful changes, the king and his three brave men held fast to the god. Then Proteus saw that he was beaten. So he changed back to his own form, and told the king all that he wished to know. After this the king got safely home at last.

Eros, the Love-God

The Greeks told many wonderful stories about Eros, the love-god, some of which are very hard to understand. Long before Zeus, or Cronus, or Uranus, was the king of the gods,—indeed, before these gods were born, and before there were any plants or animals,—Eros was a god as powerful as he was in the later days when the Greeks wrote their stories about him.

They said that in the beginning the whole world was all one mass of stone, and there was no earth or sky or sea. Then Eros, or Love, was the only living thing; and just as the mother-hen warms her eggs till the little chicks peep out, so the Greeks said Love brooded over the world until living things appeared, and the world began to take shape.

Although he was so very, very old, the Greeks thought that Eros always remained a youth, never growing up as the other gods did. And they represented him in their pictures as a beautiful lad, with a golden bow and a quiver full of arrows. Some of his arrows were sharp and of the whitest silver. Whoever was wounded with one of these at once began to love the person that Eros wished him to love. Others were blunt and made of lead; and if a person was struck with one of these, he did just the opposite, and disliked whomsoever Eros wished.

One of the stories which the Greeks liked to tell about Eros was of his love for a young girl, and the way in which she became immortal through it. This girl’s name was Psyche, which means "the should;" and she was so beautiful that as soon as Eros saw her he fell deeply in love with her.

She was only a mortal, however, while he was a god; so when they were married he could not take her to Mount Olympus with him, nor even let her know who he was. For many months they lived together very happily in a beautiful palace of marble and gold, though Psyche was never allowed to see her husband by daylight nor to light a lamp by night.

Indeed, Psyche was so happy that her sisters began to be jealous of her good fortune, and said that her husband must be some dreadful monster, who was afraid to let her look upon his face. Psyche did not believe this, of course; but, in order to prove that they were mistaken, she did something that took away her happiness for a long time.

After Eros had fallen asleep one night, she lighted a lamp, and brought it to the bedside When she saw that her husband was the god Eros, she was so startled that a drop of hot oil fell from her lamp upon his face, and he awoke. Then he saw that she had disobeyed him; and, after giving her one sad look, he was gone.

Poor Psyche was heart-broken, for she knew that he would not come back again. She wandered about for a long time, going from temple to temple, trying to find some way to make up for her fault and regain her husband. At last she came to the temple of Aphrodite, where she was given a number of hard and dangerous things to do.

First she was shown a great heap of beans, barley, wheat, and other grains, all mixed together, and told that she must sort out the different kinds before the sun set At once thousands of ants came to help her, so that before evening the task was done. The next day she was sent to a distant grove to get a lock of wool from a flock of fierce, golden-colored sheep that fed there. When she came to the river by the grove, a reed whispered to her that when the sun went down the sheep lost their fierceness, and then she would find bits of the wool caught in the bushes all around; and so she finished this task successfully. Last of all, she was sent down into the dark under-world to get some of Persephone’s beauty for Aphrodite. This, too, she was able to do, by following the wise directions which the winds whispered to her, and with the help that Eros gave to her unseen.

Having finished all her tasks, Psyche was forgiven her fault, and was then made immortal by the gods so that she might never die; and ever after that she lived happily with Eros in the beautiful home of the gods on Mount Olympus.

Heracles

Heracles was not one of the immortal gods, like Hermes or Pan. He was the son of a Greek king, and only became immortal because of his great deeds while living upon the earth. From his babyhood Heracles was much stronger and braver than his comrades, and as he grew to be a youth he became the wonder of his father’s city He was not always thoughtful, however, in the use of his great power over others; and sometimes he used all the strength of his powerful body without thinking at all what would be the result.

As Heracles was a prince, he was taught all there was to be learned in those days. He had masters for all his studies, and even had a music teacher who was to teach him to play upon the lyre. One day, as the teacher was giving Heracles his lesson, he was obliged to correct him for mistakes that he had made. This made Heracles very angry, and without thinking what he was doing he struck his teacher with the instrument upon which he had been playing.

His blow was so sudden and fierce that the man fell dead, and then Heracles wished that he had not grown so strong. Of course his father, the king, was very angry at what he had done. He said, that , as Heracles could not control his temper and keep from harming other people, he had no longer any right to be a prince. So he sent him away from his palace to a lonely mountain to be a shepherd there.

Heracles did not like this tame and quiet life, where he had only the sheep for companions After trying it for a while, he went to the oracle at Delphi to ask if there was not some other way in which he could make up for his thoughtless deed. The oracle showed him such a way; but it was so difficult to that no one would even think of trying it, unless he was very strong and very brave. This was to perform twelve of the hardest tasks that could be imagined. Heracles was so sure of his strength and courage that he began them with a light heart, and thought that he would soon accomplish all that was asked of him. But he found these labors much more difficult than he had thought they would be, and it was twelve long years before the last was done.

As his first task, Heracles was asked to kill a fierce lion that lived on a lonely mountain and was a terror to all the country round about. He did this without a weapon of any kind, by hunting it to its den, and then strangling it in his arms. He took the skin from this lion, and wore it around him as a garment, and cut a great club, which he carried in his hand. So you will see him in almost all of the pictures and statues that were made of him.

The next task of Heracles was to kill a great water-snake called the hydra. This snake had ten heads, one of which was immortal; and he found that this task was not so simple a thing as crushing the lion to death in his arms. As he cut off each head, two more immediately grew where the one had been, and he was worse off than before But he finally discovered a way to destroy the snake by burning off the heads instead of cutting them, and at last he was ready to begin his third task.

This was not to kill a dreadful beast, but to do something much more difficult. He was to bring a wild boar alive from the place where it lived in the depths of the forest to a certain city. He succeeded in doing this as he had done the first two tasks; and he walked into the town dragging the great beast behind him, to the terror of all the people. The king was so frightened that he rushed away, and hid in an underground hut in the forest. It was only when Heracles had turned the animal loose, and it had disappeared from the city, that he came back. And then he ordered Heracles to be very careful not to bring any more proofs of his bravery into the town, but thereafter to show them outside the city walls.

His fourth task was to capture a deer belonging to Artemis, and bring it also home alive. This deer had horns of gold and hoofs of brass, and was the swiftest animal of its kind. Heracles followed it for a whole year over plain, mountain, and valley, through winter and summer. Each time he neared it, it would bound away, and he could never quite catch it. At last he wounded it with an arrow, and so caught it, and carried it on his shoulders to his city.

Heracles continued to do successfully all that was asked of him. One of his tasks was to drive away and destroy great birds which fed on human flesh, and which could shoot out their feathers like arrows at those who came near them. Another was to get a girdle which the god Ares had given to the Queen of the Amazons. Another was to cleanse in a day a filthy stable where three thousand cattle were kept; this he did by turned a river through it, and letting it wash the filth away. Another was to capture a mad bull which belonged to Poseidon. And another was to bind and bring home from a distant country a herd of fierce horses which fed on human flesh.

But the most wonderful of all his labors were the two which he performed last. These were to find and carry home the apples of the Hesperides, and to bring the three-headed dog Cerberus up from the under-world. Heracles had no idea where to find the apples of the Hesperides, and went up and down the world asking where he should go for them. At last one of the sea-gods told him that he must look for them on some islands far to the west. So he traveled toward the setting sun until he came to where the god Atlas stood holding the blue heavens above the earth upon his shoulders Here Heracles found that he could go no farther, so he persuaded Atlas to go get the apples for him while he held the heavens in his absence.

Atlas readily agreed, and slipped his heavy burden upon the shoulders of Heracles. Atlas obtained the apples; but he enjoyed the freedom from his burden so much, that, when he came back with them, he proposed to take the apples the remainder of the way home, and leave Heracles to do his work for him. But Heracles had no idea of allowing this. He did not wish to spend the rest of his days standing still under a great burden while Atlas roamed free and happy about the world. So he pretended that he was willing that Atlas should do as he wished, but asked, as a favor, that Atlas would hold the heavens for him a moment while he fitted a cushion to his back, so that he might support the burden more comfortably. Then, when Atlas had kindly taken the burden again, he snatched the apples and hurried away.

The last labor of Heracles was the most terrible one. He was sent to the under-world, where gloomy Hades reigned, to get the dog Cerberus. The journey was so difficult that Hermes and Athena were obliged to go with him and guard him on the way. Hades gave him permission to take the dog if he could do it without club or weapon; and Heracles seized him in his arms, and carried him so to the upper world. This deed was so wonderful that he might never have done anything more all his life long, and still have been the greatest of all heroes. But as long as he lived he continued to wander over the earth and meet with great adventures. When he died at last, he was so beloved by the gods that he was taken to Mount Olympus and made immortal, instead of being sent to the dark under-ground world of the dead.

Theseus

Theseus was the son of King Aegeus of Athens, who ruled over the city in very ancient times But although Theseus was the son of the king, he was not brought up at Athens He lived with his mother and grandfather far from his father's country, and grew to be a lad of sixteen before he even knew that he was a king's son. When he reached that age he was a strong and handsome boy. His mother looked upon him proudly and yet sadly, for she knew that the time had come when he must leave her.

One day she led him to a great stone, and told him a story that left him breathless with excitement. "Under this stone," she said, "are hidden a sword and a pair of sandals, placed there long ago by your father. When you are strong enough to lift the stone, you are to place the sword at your side, and strap the sandals on your feet, and go to Athens to claim the place of prince of the city. Will you try to lift the stone now?"

Without a word, Theseus put his shoulder to the rock, and using all his strength he rolled it from its place. Then he snatched the sword and sandals which he found in the hollow beneath the stone, and prepared to set out upon his journey to his father's kingdom. In those long-ago days a journey by land was very dangerous because of the robbers and wild beasts that might attack the traveler; besides, Theseus was still only a lad; so his mother and grandfather urged him to go to Athens by sea. But Theseus would not listen to this. He wished to take the hardest road, and prove himself to be really as brave as he felt that he was. So he set out by land, and before he reached Athens he had almost as many adventures as Heracles

One of these adventures was with a robber called Procrustes. This man did not kill the people whom he captured in any ordinary way, as by shooting them to death with arrows or cutting off their heads. He had a bed upon which he laid his prisoners; and if they were not just the right length for it, he would either cut them off or stretch them out until they should exactly fit it. When Theseus heard of him, he at once set out to punish him. With his great strength he easily captured him; and then he treated him as Procrustes had so often treated others, and let him find out for himself how it felt to lie upon his bed.

After many adventures with wicked men and fierce wild beasts, Theseus at last reached Athens. His father, King Aegeus, did not know that he was on the way; and it was so long since he had hidden the sword and sandals under the rock for his son, that he had almost forgotten it. He had grown to be a sad and lonely man, who was afraid that even his best friends and nearest relatives were trying to get his kingdom from him. He had been told by the oracle at Delphi to beware of the many who should come before him with but one sandal. HE was always looking for this man; and when one day Theseus came to his palace wearing only one sandal, having lost the other on the way, he felt at once that he had found his worst enemy.

He gave a feast that very night, to which Theseus was asked to come; and he made ready a cup of poison which he meant to have him drink. But, before the cup was offered to Theseus, the meat was passed at the table. Now, in those days they did not have table-knives as we do. Each guest was expected to use whatever he had with him in the way of a knife. When the turn of Theseus came to cut his piece from the meat, he drew his father's sword, which he had brought carefully through all of his adventures on the way. King Aegeus saw it and recognized it, and knew in an instant that this young man must be his son. The cup of poison was thrown away; and, even though Theseus had come to his father with but one sandal, he was welcomed, and made price of the city.

He had not been long in Athens when he found something to do more difficult than anything he had met with on the journey. Not far from the city there was an island where a cruel king named Minos lived. This king had once crossed the sea to Greece, and burned the town of Athens. Before he left the Athenians in peace, he made them promise to send an offering to his island every nine years of seven youths and seven maidens. These prisoners Minos fed to a monster called the Minotaur, which lived in a cave that had so many windings and turnings in its passageways that a stranger who had once gone in could never find the way out again.

Soon after Theseus came, the offering to Minos was prepared. The boys and girls were to be chosen by lot from among the noblest families in the city, and every father and mother was in fear lest their son or daughter might be chosen. All the people were angry at King Aegeus for allowing such a thing to be done; and they were whispering among themselves that they ought to choose a stronger and braver king, who would be able to protect their city, and not send their children to a dreadful death. Then Theseus came among them and offered of his own free will to go with the youths and maidens. King Aegeus objected to this, and begged his son not to leave him; but Theseus was determined to seek out the Minotaur and kill him. So when the vessel left the town, with its black sails and its burden of weeping young men and women, the Prince Theseus was upon it.

King Aegeus was very sorrowful as he saw his strong young son leave him. He had not much faith that Theseus would succeed in killing the Minotaur. But, before the vessel left, he had given to the captain a white sail, and ordered him to hoist that instead of the black sail as he returned to the city, if Theseus had been successful and had killed the monster. But if he had not succeeded, the captain was to raise the black sail, and then all the people would know as soon as they saw the ship that their children would return to them no more.

When Theseus arrived at the island of Minos he found unexpected help to aid him in his fight with the Minotaur. The king's daughter took pity on him, and gave him a thread to guide him out again through the winding passages. Holding this in his hand, he went bravely in, and killed the monster with his father's sword. Then, still holding fast to his slender thread, he found his way out as he had come in, and set sail joyfully for Greece.

But he and his companions were too excited over their happy escape from King Minos and his Minotaur to think of changing their sail from black to white, as King Aegeus had told them to do. So they came in sight of Athens with the funeral sails under which they had started. The king was watching for them from a high cliff; and when he saw the black sails of the vessel, he was sure that his son had failed and would never return again. In his grief and despair he threw himself from the top of the steep hill and was killed.

Thus Theseus by his thoughtlessness did his father the greatest harm, and the people all said that the Delphic oracle had spoken truly when it told King Aegeus to beware of the man who came before him with but one sandal. But the Athenians did not grieve long for King Aegeus. They were too glad to receive their children back, and to learn that the Minotaur was at last dead. They made Theseus their king in his father's place, and under his long rule Athens became a great and powerful city.

Perseus

There was once a king in Greece who did a very cruel thing. An oracle had foretold to him that he would be killed by his own grandson. He was determined that this should not come to pass, so he tried to cheat the gods. He placed his beautiful daughter and her baby son in a chest, and threw them into the sea, thinking that by doing this he would never see them again, and need never fear his little grandson.

But the waves were kind to the princess and her child. The chest floated lightly upon the water, and at last came to rest upon the sandy beach of an island. Here it was found by a fisherman, and the princess and her child were received and cared for by the ruler of the island. They lived there for many years, while the boy, who was called Perseus, grew to be a strong and active youth. For some time the people were very kind to them; but at last the ruler of the island became vexed at the mother of Perseus, and made her his slave. Then, because Perseus had become such a strong young man, the king began to be afraid that he would try to avenge the injury which had been done to his other. So he sent him far away on a dangerous journey, to the very ends of the earth.

There dwelt a terrible woman called Medusa, the Gorgon. The hair of the Gorgon was a mass of living snakes; and she was so hideous to behold, that just to look upon her turned one to stone. Perseus was commanded to bring home the head of this woman; and although he set out obediently, he did not know at all where to find her. But while he was wandering helplessly about, the god Hermes and the goddess Athena came to his aid, and gave him courage for his dreadful task. They told him that he must have a pair of winged sandals to help him on his way, and also a helmet which would make him invisible.

These wonderful things were in the cave of some water-nymphs, and he could find out where these nymphs were only by going to some dreadful old woman who had but one eye and one tooth among them. These they were obliged to pass around from one to the other as they needed them. Hermes led Perseus to these old women, and then left him. At first Perseus could not get them to tell him what he wished to learn. But when he stole their one eye as they passed it from one to another to look at him, they were glad enough to tell him what he wanted, in order to get back their eye again.

When at last Perseus reached the cave of the nymphs, he easily obtained the sandals and the helmet. Putting these on, he soon reached the cave of Medusa, and found her lying asleep on the ground. But he did not dare to approach her face to face, for fear lest he should be turned to stone. Then it was that the goddess Athena came to his aid, and gave him her bright shield to use as a mirror. Holding this before him, Perseus walked backward, looking not upon Medusa, but only upon her reflection in the shield. When he was near enough, he struck off her head with a curved sickle which Hermes had given him, and, still without looking at it he thrust the head into a bag, and hurried away.

As he journeyed back from the ends of the earth toward his home, many adventures befell him, and he found that the Gorgon's head was a wonderful weapon. It was better than a sword or a spear; for, if he wished to harm his enemies, he had only to take Medusa's head from its bag, and hold it before their eyes; then at once they were turned to stone.

One of his adventures ended in his gaining a beautiful princess as his wife. As he passed through the country of the Ethiopians, he found every one in great distress. The queen of the country was a very vain woman, who had boasted that she was more beautiful than the nymphs who lived in the sea near by. This had made the nymphs so angry that they had begged the great god Poseidon to punish the queen. He did this by rolling a great flood of his salty water upon the land, and sending with it a sea monster, that devoured both beasts and men. The country suffered so much from these misfortunes that the king sent to an oracle, to discover how they might escape from t hem. The oracle replied that the only help was to sacrifice the king's daughter Andromeda to the sea monster.

For a long time the king refused to do this; for Andromeda was a beautiful girl, and he loved her dearly. But at last he could resist the wishes of his suffering people no longer. Andromeda was led from her father's house to a rock upon the seashore, and chained there alone, to await the coming of the monster. But, before she had been harmed, Perseus passed that way. He wondered at finding a beautiful maiden weeping in chains, and went to her aid. He killed the monster as it came out of the deep, and broke the chains that found Andromeda. Then they went together to her father's city; and Perseus claimed Andromeda as his bride, because he had saved her from a dreadful death.

The people were glad enough to be rid of the monster, and to have their beautiful princess back alive one more; but they did not wish to give her away again to this strange young man. So Perseus took her without their consent; and when some of them tried to prevent it he turned the men to stone with his Gorgon head, and went on his way homeward with Andromeda at his side. When he came to his old home, he used Medusa's head again. This time it was the man who had mistreated his mother whom he turned to stone. In his place as king he put the good fisherman who had found him and his mother in the chest on the shore of the sea.

Then Perseus went across the sea to find the grandfather who had been so afraid of him when he was a little child. When the old king learned that his grandson had not been drowned after all, and that he was alive and coming to see him, he was more afraid than ever. Now he was sure that the oracle would come true, and that this young man would kill him for what he had done so long ago to him and his mother So he fled from his city, and hid himself. But Perseus followed him and found him, and showed him that he came only to do honor to him. Then his grandfather welcomed him, and ceased to fear him, and caused games to be held to celebrate the coming of this strong and noble grandson who had come to him in his old age. But, alas! In the midst of the games a dreadful accident happened. One of the games was hurling the quoits; and as Perseus was throwing the round, flat piece of iron, it slipped from his grasp, and struck his grandfather so that he fell dead. So the oracle was fulfilled at last.

Perseus was so sorry for what he had done, that he would not accept the throne of his grandfather, though the people wished him to do so. He exchanged this kingdom for another one, where he would not always be reminded of what he had accidentally done; and there he lived happily with Andromeda for many years.

Jason and the Quest of the Golden Fleece

A GREEK WAR-SHIP.

While Heracles and Theseus were doing the wonderful deeds of which you have read, a band of heroes under the leadership of a prince named Jason went on a voyage which brought them adventures that were just as remarkable. This was the quest of the Golden Fleece. You must first know what this Golden Fleece was, and how Jason came to go in search of it.

There was once a boy and a girl whose stepmother was very cruel to them, and wished to put them to death. But the god Hermes sent them a winged ram, whose fleece was of pure gold; and seating themselves on this they flew far away from their cruel stepmother. Over mountains and plains and valleys the ram bore them safely; but when they were passing over an arm of the sea, the girl, Helle, became so frightened that she lost her hold, and was drowned. The water into which she fell was ever after called the Hellespont, or the sea of Helle.

The boy clung fast to the ram, and at last was brought safely to a far-off country, where his stepmother could not find him. There he sacrificed the ram on the altar of Zeus, and its beautiful golden fleece was hung up in a grove that was sacred to the god Ares. To keep it quite safe from any one who might try to steal it, a terrible dragon was set to watch it night and day.

By right, Jason was king of one of the lands of Greece; but his uncle had taken the throne from him, and said he would not give it up unless Jason should bring him the Golden Fleece. Jason was a brave, adventurous young man, and he agreed to do this. So he had a great ship built, with fifty long oars to it; and this ship was called the Argo, from the name of its builder. Then Jason sent word of his plan throughout Greece, and soon he had forty-nine of the bravest men in Greece to go with him. And because the ship was named the Argo, people called the band of men who went in it upon this long journey the Argonauts, or the men who sailed in the Argo.

Getting aboard of their long ship, they set out; and for many days with sail and oar they journeyed on, going ever to the east and north. Passing through the Hellespont, they came to another narrow strait. There the way was blocked by two great moving rocks which clashed together and ground to pieces the ships that sought to pass through the strait. Here the Argonauts waited many days before they could find a way to get their ship through.

At last a wise man of the neighborhood told them to watch the flight of a dove as it went between the rocks. They did this; and when they saw that the dove had only her tail feathers caught and pulled out, they determined to venture on the passage. They chose the time when the wind was strongest to fill the sails, and all the heroes pulled their hardest at the oars. The Argo slipped through the crashing rocks just in time, and only a few ornaments at the stern of the vessel were broken off

When they had passed this danger the Argonauts soon reached the country of the Golden Fleece. There Jason went to the king, and told him of his journey with his band of heroes, and asked him for the fleece. The king was a cunning man; and although he had no idea of giving this stranger the beautiful fleece, he said that Jason could have what he wanted if he would do two tasks for him. This Jason promised to do; but when he heard what these tasks were, his heart sank within him, for they were very difficult. But Medea, the king's daughter, came to his aid, and with the help of her enchantments he was able to perform them both.

The first task was to harness two mighty bulls, whose hoofs were of solid brass, and whose breath was scorching fire, and with this team to plow a field that had never been cultivated. Medea gave him a magic salve to rub over his body, which protected him from the fiery breath of the bulls, and gave him strength to yoke and drive them. So this task was accomplished in safety.

The second task seemed still more difficult. This was to sow in the furrows he had made the teeth of a dragon, and to kill the armed men who would then spring out of the ground Jason could never have conquered such an army of warriors, so he was forced to find some trick to help him. Here, again, Medea aided him.

"When the armed men spring up," she said, "throw a large stone among them, and they will fall to fighting one another." Jason did this; and the warriors, instead of attacking him, turned upon one another, and fought until they were all killed.

When the king learned how Jason had accomplished his tasks, he was very angry both at him and at Medea; and he refused to give up the Golden Fleece. So Jason would have failed, after all, if it had not been for Medea's help once more. That very night they went together to the grove of Ares, where the fleece was kept There Medea put the dragon to sleep with her enchantments; and then Jason took the fleece and hastened away to the Argo. The ship was all ready to go to sea; and Jason set sail immediately, taking Medea with him.

The journey towards home was not so dangerous as the outward trip had been, and at last Jason came happily into his own country again. When he gave the Golden Fleece to his uncle, however, he did not get his kingdom again in return, as his uncle had promised him. The king had never supposed that he would see Jason again; and now when he came back, and brought the Golden Fleece with him, he was not ready to keep to his bargain. But Jason and Medea were determined to have the kingdom; and, as usual, it was the enchantress Medea who found the way. By a trick she got the kingdom for Jason, and then they became king and queen.

Jason and Medea did not rule long nor happily. Perhaps they had been too cunning and too tricky to be happy in the end. It was not long before a son of Jason's uncle came, and drove Jason from the throne, so that he was forced to flee from the country. And at last, after much sorrow, he was killed by the falling of a rotten beam upon him in the old ship Argo.

Achilles and the War about Troy

If you were to go aboard a ship in Greece, and sail toward the east, you would before many days come to the mainland of Asia. There, in another country and another continent from Greece, was in olden times a famous city called Troy. Here lived a strong, brave race of people, who had made their city great by their industry in peace and their courage in war.

The king of this people was a good man named Priam, who was much beloved by every one. He had many children, so many, in fact, that one more or less did not matter much in his great household. But one day another little son was born to King Priam, and the priest said that he would grow to be a danger and a trouble to his family and his country. To prevent this trouble, King Priam had his servants take the baby, and leave it on a barren mountain-side to die. There some shepherds found the child, and reared him carefully; and he grew to be a tall, beautiful youth, very active and skillful in all sorts of games.

When Paris—for that was the boy's name,—had become a young man, he was called upon to decide a very odd question. Among the gods there was one who was called the goddess of Discord, because she was always causing quarrels wherever she went The other gods did not like her, so they did not invite her to a great feast to which the other gods were all asked. Then the goddess of Discord took a beautiful golden apple, and wrote on it, "To the fairest," and tossed it among the other gods as they feasted. At once a quarrel arose as to who should have the apple. Of the three great goddesses,—Hera, Athena, and Aphrodite,—each claimed that she was the fairest, and that the apple was for her. As none of them would give up, they had to ask some one to decide which one was the most beautiful.

Now, none of the gods wished to decide the question for fear lest he should offend the goddesses. So it was agreed to leave the decision to one of the children of men; and Paris was the judge whom Zeus chose. When the goddesses heard who was to be the judge, they each made haste to bribe him to decide in her favor. Hera, as queen of the gods, promised him power. Athena offered to make him the wisest man in the world; and Aphrodite promised him the most beautiful woman for his wife Paris chose the latter gift, and gave the golden apple to Aphrodite.

Not long after this, King Priam held games at Troy, in which the young men of the kingdom were invited to try their strength with one another. The shepherd lad Paris joined in all of these games, and was so skillful that he was the winner of the prize. Then a priestess revealed that he was the son of Priam; and in spite of the trouble that had been foretold form this son, Priam received him gladly, and restored him to his place as prince of Troy.

It was not long, however, that Paris was content to remain in Troy. He wished to see the world, and find the beautiful wife whom Aphrodite had promised him; so he sailed away across the sea to Greece. There he came to the court of a king named Menelaus, whose wife, Helen, was the most beautiful woman in all that land. As soon as he saw Helen, Paris knew that her was the wife that Aphrodite had intended for him; so he stole her away from her husband, and carried her back with him to Troy.

This led to a great war between the Greeks and the Trojans. King Menelaus, and his brother, King Agamemnon, called upon all the kings of Greece to join them in trying to get Helen back, and in punishing the Trojans. After many months the fleet that was to carry them across the sea was ready, and a great army set sail. When they reached troy they left their ships, and camped upon the plains around the walls of the city. The Trojans closed their city gates, only coming out now and then to fight the Greeks. For many years the war dragged on. It seemed as if the Greeks could not take the city, and the Trojans could not drive away the Greeks.

In this great war, even the gods took part. Aphrodite, of course, took the side of Troy, because it was through the promise she had made to Paris that the war had begun Hera and Athena both took the side of the Greeks. Of the other gods, some took one side and some the other; and long after this the Greeks loved to tell how men sometimes fought even against the gods.

Agamemnon was the leader of the Greeks, but the bravest man and the best fighter was Achilles This prince was the son of a goddess of the ocean and of a Greek king, and possessed wonderful strength and beauty. When he was a baby, his goddess mother had dipped him in the waters of a dark river in the kingdom of Hades, and he had become proof against any weapon except at one little place in the heel, where his mother's hand had prevented the water from touching him. When Agamemnon and Menelaus called upon the men of Greece to fight again Troy, Achilles gladly took his shield and spear and joined them, although it had been foretold that he should meet his death before Troy. There he fought bravely; and even Hector, the eldest son of King Priam, and that champion of the Trojans, did not dare to stay outside the walls while Achilles was in the field.

In the tenth year of the war Achilles became very angry at a wrong that had been done him by Agamemnon. After that he refused to join in the fighting, and sat and sulked in his tent. When the Trojans saw that Achilles was no longer in the field, they took courage again. Hector and the other Trojan warriors came forth and killed many Greek heroes, and soon the Greek army was in full flight. The Trojans even succeeded in burning some of the Greek ships.

Then the Greeks were very much dismayed, and sent to Achilles, and asked him to help them. But he was still angry, and he refused. At last the dearest friend of Achilles came, and begged him to aid them once more. Still Achilles refused; and all that he would promise was to let his friend take his armor and go in his place. So his friend took the armor of Achilles and went forth, thinking that the sight of Achilles' arms would once more set the Trojans flying. But soon word was brought to Achilles that Hector had slain his friend, and carried off his armor

Then Achilles saw that his foolish anger had cost him the life of his friend. His grief was very great; and he threw himself upon the ground and wept, until messengers came to tell him that the Trojans were carrying off the body of his friend, so that the Greeks might not bury it. Achilles sprang to his feet, and rushing toward the battlefield without chariot or armor he shouted in wrath. The goddess Athena joined her voice to his; and the sound startled the Trojans so that they turned and fled, leaving the body of Achilles' friend in the hands of the Greeks

The next day Achilles put on a new suit of armor which his goddess mother had obtained from the god Hephaestus, and rushed into battle again to avenge his friend. All day long the battle raged about the walls of Troy, the gods fighting among men to protect and aid their favorites. At last at the end of the day, when the Trojans had been driven back within their walls, Hector alone remained without. After a fierce battle Achilles slew him; and so great was the anger of Achilles, that he tied the feet of the dead Hector to his chariot, and dragged him through the dust to the Greek camp.

But Achilles himself did not live much longer. As he was fighting one day soon after this, and arrow shot by Paris struck him in the heel,—the one spot where he could be wounded,—and he was killed.

After Achilles was dead the Greeks could not hope to take Troy by open fighting, so they tried a trick. They pretended that they were tired of the long war, and that they were going home. They built a wooden horse as tall as a house; and leaving that in their camp as an offering to their gods, the Greeks got on board their ships and sailed away. Then the Trojans came flocking out of their city to examine this curious thing which the Greeks had left behind. Some of the wiser heads feared the wooden horse, and wanted to burn it; but the others said that they would take it into the city, and keep it as a memorial of their victory over the Greeks.

So they took it within the city walls. That night after the Trojans were all asleep, a door opened in the side of the wooden horse, and a man slipped out. Then there came another, and then another, until about fifty of the bravest Greeks had appeared These Greeks slew the guards and opened the gates. The Greeks who had sailed away that morning had come back as soon as night fell, and were waiting outside As soon as the gates were opened they rushed into the sleeping city, and after that night there were only heaps of ruins where the city of Troy once stood.

In the fight of that night King Priam and his queen and all of his children and most of his people were killed. King Menelaus found Helen, and took her back again to his own country. The priest's saying at the birth of Paris had come true He had brought destruction on his family and on his kingdom, and it was right that he also should lose his life in the fall of Troy.

The Wanderings of Odysseus

After the Trojan War was ended by the burning of Troy, the Greeks filled their ships with precious things which they had gathered, and set sail for home. It was not a long journey back to Greece, and some of the princes returned quickly and happily to their own land. But one prince, named Odysseus, had more adventures on the journey back than he had met with before the city of Troy itself; and it was not until ten long years had passed that he succeeded in reaching his native land again

Odysseus had been one of the wisest and bravest men in the battles about Troy, and he proved himself wise and brave in his long and perilous journey home. It would be too much to tell of all the adventures that he had, though some time you may read them in a book composed by a great Greek poet named Homer. Here we can tell only a few of the wonderful things that happened to him.

After sailing for a long time, and seeing many strange lands, Odysseus and his men came to the land of the Cyclops. These were a wild and lawless race of giants, each of whom had only one great eye in the middle of his forehead. They neither planted nor plowed the fields, but lived off their herds of sheep and cattle. Odysseus landed here, and went with some of his men to explore the country. Soon they found a great high cave, with much cheese and milk in it. They entered this to wait till the owner should come; and by and by he appeared, driving his herds into the cave with him.

When Odysseus and his men saw how large and fierce he was, they would gladly have run away; but the giant had rolled a huge rock against the mouth of the cave so they could not get out. When the Cyclops saw them, he immediately showed them what they might expect from him, by seizing two of the men and eating them. The next morning he at two more of them, and then drove his flocks out to pasture. But before he left he rolled the rock back before the mouth of the cave, so that Odysseus and his men were still kept prisoners.

While he was gone, Odysseus planned a way of escape. He found a long stake in the cave; and the end of this he sharpened into a point, and then hardened it in the fire When the giant had come back, and had again eaten two of the men, Odysseus gave him some wine which they had brought with them when they came to the cave. When he had taken this, and was sleeping drunkenly, Odysseus and his men plunged the sharp stick into his one eye and blinded him.

The Cyclops could not see them now, and so he could no longer catch them. The next morning Odysseus and his men got out of the cave by clinging to the under side of the sheep as the giant let them out to pasture. And though the giant felt the back  of each sheep as it went out, to see that none of his prisoners got away, they all escaped safely. But it happened that this cruel giant was the son of Poseidon, the god of the sea; and from this time Odysseus and his companions had to endure the wrath of the sea-god for what they had done to his son.

After leaving the land of the Cyclops, Odysseus came to the island of Aelous, the god of the winds, who entertained them kindly for a whole month. When Odysseus took leave of him, Aeolus gave him a strong sheepskin bag, closely fastened with silver This held all the winds of heaven except the west wind, which was left out to blow him gently home. With this Odysseus sailed for nine days steadily onward, until he was so near his native land that he saw the people on the shore. Then, while he slept, his men secretly opened the bag of the winds to see what great present it was that King Aeolus had given to their leader. All the winds of heaven leapt from the bag; and storms raged about their heads, and blew them out across the sea, until they reached the very island of King Aeolus from which they had departed After that King Aeolus refused to help them.

Next Odysseus came to the island of an enchantress named Circe. Here some of his men were changed into swine by her. But by his bravery and the help of the god Hermes, Odysseus overcame the enchantress, and forced her to change them back into men again. Then Odysseus and his companions lived pleasantly with her for a whole year; and when at last they were ready to set sail again, Circe told Odysseus what he must do to get safely back home. This was to go down to the world of the dead, and ask concerning his journey. He did this, and there he was told of the wrath of Poseidon because of what he had done to his son. But he was told also that he should reach his home in spite of Poseidon, if he and his men would only leave untouched the oxen of the sun when they should come to them.

Then Odysseus returned to the upper world, and once more he and his men set out on their way. Again they met with many adventures. At last they came to the island where the oxen of the sun fed in the fields. Odysseus did not wish to land here, but his men insisted on spending the night on shore. When Odysseus had made his men promise not to harm the oxen of the sun, he agreed to this, and they landed. That night a great storm came, and for a whole month they could not leave the place. Their good gave out, and though they hunted and fished they could not get enough to eat. At last, while Odysseus slept, his men killed some of the oxen of the sun and at them; and Helios, the sun-god, was angered at them.

When the storm ceased they set sail again. But they had not gone far before Zeus hurled a great thunderbolt at their ship because they had eaten the oxen of the sun. The ship was wrecked, and all the men were drowned except Odysseus. For ten days he swam in the sea supported by the mast of his ship. Then he was thrown on the shore of an island which was ruled by the goddess Calypso. Odysseus was kindly received by the goddess, and he stayed here seven years. But he longed to return to his wife and to his native land. At last the goddess agreed to let him go; and on a strongly built raft he set sail once more—this time alone. For seventeen days he sailed on in safety. But Poseidon had not forgotten his old anger against Odysseus. He sent a great storm which wrecked his raft; but Odysseus once more swam shore and was saved.

This time Odysseus found the daughter of the king of the land washing linen with her maidens in a river which flowed into the sea. When he told her his story, she took him to her father; and at last Odysseus was taken to his own home in one of the ships which belonged to this king.

So, after much suffering and many wanderings, Odysseus reached home. But his troubled were not yet ended, for he found that in his absence evil men had taken possession of his property. With the help of his son and a faithful servant, Odysseus succeeded in overcoming them, and got possession of his house and lands. And at last he lived quietly and peacefully once more in the island kingdom over which he had ruled before he set out for the war against Troy twenty years before.

The stories of the gods, and of the Argonauts, and of the warriors who fought around Troy, are what we call "myths." They tell about things which occurred so very long ago that nobody can tell just when they happened, or how much of the story is true and how much is only what the Greeks imagined about it. Now you are to read about things most of which we are quite sure did happen, and which took place just about at the time and place and in the way that the story says. These we call "history," to distinguish them from the myths.

What Lycurgus Did for Sparta

There were two cities in Greece named Athens and Sparta. These cities were not nearly so large as New York and Chicago; but still they were great towns, because the people who lived in them were brave and intelligent men and women, and did many noble deeds. In each of these cities the people obeyed laws which they said had been established for them by a great lawgiver. In Sparta the lawgiver was named Lycurgus, while in Athens it was Solon who had made their laws. We will read first about these two men and the laws which they made.

When the Spartans came into the land where they built their city they had a great many wars with the people round about them. Once it happened that their king was a boy, and could not defend them; so everything fell into confusion, and the people suffered much from their enemies. Then they called upon the king's uncle, Lycurgus, to help them out of their trouble.

Now, Lycurgus saw that while it would be very easy to drive off their enemies once, the only way to cure the troubles so that they would not come back any more was by making the Spartans better soldiers. So he drew up a set of laws which would do this. Then he called the people together, and explained the laws to them, and asked,—

"Will you agree to do what these laws command?"

"Yes," shouted the Spartans, "we will."

Lycurgus made them promise that they would not change any of the laws until he came back from Delphi, where he was going to consult the oracle. Then he went to Delphi, and the oracle told him that Sparta would be free and happy as long as the people obeyed his laws. When Lycurgus heard this he determined never to go back home again; for he knew that the Spartans would obey the laws as long as he stayed away, but he was afraid that if he went back some of the people might want to change them. So all the rest of hi life was spent far from the land he loved, and at last he died among strangers.

It was wise to Lycurgus not to return to Sparta, for the laws which he had made were very severe. When a boy reached the age of seven years he was taken from his parents, and placed with the other boys of his age in a great public training house. There he lived until became a man. The life which the boys led was very hard. Summer and winter they had to go barefooted, with only a thin shirt, or tunic, for clothing At night they slept on beds of rushes which they themselves had gathered from the river-bed near by. They had to do all the cooking and other work for themselves; and the food which was given them was never as much as hungry, growing boys needed, so they were forced to hunt and fish to get food. They did not study books as you do; but they were taught running, wrestling, boxing, and the use of the spear and sword.

When the boys became men, they left the training-house, and were formed into soldier companies. But still they had to live together, eating at the same table and sleeping in the same building; and it was not until they had become old men, and could no longer serve in war, that they were allowed to leave their companies and have homes of their own. Thus the men of Sparta became strong in body, strict in their habits, and skillful in the use of weapons, and were able to conquer all their old enemies, and to make their city one of the most famous in the world.

But, you may ask, what did the girls do while the boys were put through this severe training? The girls were not taken away from their mothers as the boys were; but they, too, were trained in running, wrestling, and other sports, and so they became the strongest and most beautiful women in all Greece. Although they were not able to fight, they were just as brave as the men, and they encouraged their brothers and sons in their wars. One brave Spartan mother had eight fine sons, who were all killed in one terrible battle. When the news brought to her she shed no tears, but only said: "It is well. I bore them to die for Sparta, if there was need." Was she not as brave as the men who fought the battle?

What Solon Did for Athens

ATHENS AS IT IS NOW.

At Athens the troubles which led the people to call upon Solon to make laws for them did not come from wars with their enemies, but from quarrels in the city itself. There had once been kings at Athens who ruled over the people, but these had been overthrown, and the city was now what we call a republic; that is, certain men were chosen each year to rule over the others. But instead of letting all the people choose these men, as we do in our own republic, only the nobles were allowed to vote. This the common people did not like, so there were quarrels between them and the nobles. Besides this, there was another trouble. Owing to wars and bad harvests, the poorer people in the state had been obliged to borrow money of the rich, and when they could not pay it back the law allowed them to be seized, and sold as slaves. So there was much ill-feeling between the different classes, and it seemed for a time as if they would fall to fighting about these things.

To prevent this, both sides agreed that a wise man named Solon should be chosen ruler for the year, and that he should be allowed to make any changes in the laws that he thought were needed. The nobles thought that Solon would decide in their favor because he was himself a noble; and the people thought he would decide in their favor because he had always shown himself friendly to them.

But Solon did not give either side all that it wanted. First he decided that the Athenians should not be sold as slaves when they could not pay their debts. That was something for the common people. Then he decided that the people who owed money and could not pay it should be helped to do so. This also was a gain for the poorer people; but as they had hoped that they should not have to pay anything at all, they were disappointed. Then he decided that the nobles must let the common people share in the rule of the city. "I gave the people," he said, "as much power as they ought to have without cheating them any, or giving them more than was their share." But this satisfied neither party; as the nobles had expected to keep all the power for themselves, while the people also had hoped to get it all for themselves.

So both parties were dissatisfied with what Solon had done, and the quarrels continued. But after these had lasted for some time, and the Athenians had suffered much on account of them, they at last came to see that Solon was right, and they did as he wished them to do. The laws which Solon had made were cut in great blocks of wood, that they might not be forgotten; and for hundreds of years afterwards these blocks might be seen at Athens.

Many people expected that Solon would not lay down his power when his year was out, and that he would make himself "tyrant" or king. But Solon was too honest to do anything of the kind. When his year was over he went away from Athens, and spent many years traveling. According to a story which the Greeks loved to tell, Solon came once to the court of a great king named Croesus. There the king showed him chests full of gold and silver and many other precious things which belonged to him. Then Croesus asked Solon who was the happiest man in the world, thinking, of course, that Solon would say that he was, because he had so much of what every one wishes to posses. But Solon named a poor man who had died while fighting for his country. Croesus then asked who was the next happiest; and Solon named two youths who had died while showing great honor to their mother. Then Croesus was angry.

"And do you not consider me happy?" he asked, pointing to all his wealth.

"I count no man happy until he is dead," answered Solon.

Many years after this, great misfortunes came on King Croesus. His kingdom was conquered by the king of the Persians, his jewels were taken from him, and he himself was placed on a great pile of wood to be burned alive. Then the words of Solon came to his mind, and he exclaimed,—

"O, Solon! O Solon! O Solon!"

When the king of the Persians heard this, he sent to ask Croesus who this Solon was that he called upon. Then Croesus told him what Solon had said to him, and added,—

"Now I see only too well that Solon was right."

Then the other king had pity on Croesus, and set him free. And the fame of Solon spread so far that he came to be looked upon as one of the seven wisest men of Greece.

How The Athenians Fought the Persians

After the Persians had conquered King Croesus they began to look across the water toward the Greeks, and to think about conquering them. But it was not until Solon had been dead many years that they tried to carry out their plan. Even then they might not have done so if the Athenians had not made the Persian King very angry by something which they did. Some of the king's subjects were rebelling against him, and the Athenians sent help to them; and in the war which followed the Athenians burnt one of the king's cities. When the king heard this he asked,—

"Who are these Athenians?" for he had never heard of them before.

Then when he was told who they were, he called for his bow, and placing an arrow on the string, he shot it high up into the air and prayed,—

"Grant me, O Zeus, that I may revenge myself on the Athenians!" And ever after that, as long as the king lived, he had a servant stand behind him at dinner-time and say three times,—

"Master, remember the Athenians!"

When the king's army was ready, he sent them on board ships, and they sailed across the sea to destroy Athens and to conquer all Greece. There were more than a hundred thousand men in the army; and when the Athenians heard that so many enemies were coming they were very much frightened, for they did not have nearly so large an army. They sent the swift runner, Pheidippides, to Sparta, to ask the Spartans to help them. But the Spartans sent back word that they could not come until the moon had reached the full; for their laws forbade them to send out an army until then, and they dared not break their laws.

When the Athenians heard this they were very much disturbed; for the Persians had now landed on their shores, and were only a few miles from their city. But still they marched out their army to meet them; and as they marched, a thousand soldiers came and joined them from a little town near Athens to which the Athenians had been friends.

Even then the Persians had ten times as many men as the Athenians had. So some of the Athenian generals wanted to go back, and some wanted to go forward; and when they voted on it they found that the generals were just evenly divided. Then one of the generals named Miltiades made a speech to the others, and he spoke so well that they decided to do as he wished, and to fight; and all the other generals when their time came to command gave up their turn to Miltiades.

So Miltiades commanded the Athenian army. And when he thought that the time had come to fight, he led his men out of their camp, and charged down upon the Persians. The battle took place in a narrow plain called Marathon, between the mountains and the sea The Persians were so crowded together that they could not use all their men. The Greeks fought, too, as they never had fought before; for they knew that they were fighting for their homes and for their wives and little children, who would be sold as slaves if their husbands and fathers were beaten. So it was not long before the Persians, in spite of their many men, began to give way; and then they began to break ranks, and soon they were running as fast as they could to their ships, with the Athenians following them.

It was a glorious victory for the Athenians, and the Persians were so discouraged that when they got on their ships again they turned about and sailed away for Persia And that was the end of the first attempt of the Persians to conquer the Greeks

How King Xerxes Marched against the Greeks

You can imagine how angry the Persian king was when he heard that the Athenians had beaten his fine army at Marathon, and you may be sure that he did not intend to give up trying to punish them. But before he was ready to send another army against them, some of the countries that he had already conquered rebelled against him. So he had to put off his march until he had punished the rebels. Then when that had been done, and before he could get ready for the war against the Greeks, the old king died.

The new king of the Persians was called Xerxes, and he was not nearly so good a soldier as his father had been. Nevertheless, he decided to go on with the war against the Greeks. He was a very vain and foolish man, and wanted the army which he was going to lead to be the largest army that the world had ever seen. So he sent into all the countries over which he ruled, and ordered them to send as many men as they could.

Then men came from all parts of Asia at his command,—black men, white men, and brown men; some clothes in the skins of foxes, leopards, and lions, and others in flowing robes, glittering with gold and jewels; some armed with brass helmets, large shields, long spears, and daggers; others with helmets of wood, small shields, and bows and arrows; and some with nothing for weapons but long sticks, with the ends sharpened and hardened in the fire. Nobody knows how many men there were in this army; but there must have been more than a million, and it may be that there were as many as five million of them.

The army was so great that Xerxes could not get together enough ships to carry it over to Greece; so most of his men had to go by land. At a place called the Hellespont, only a narrow strait separates Europe from Asia; and here it was that Xerxes decided to cross. But to cross he must have a bridge; and thousands of slaves were set to work building bridges made of boats fastened together. Just as these were finished, a storm came up and dashed them to pieces. Then Xerxes was very angry. He sent for the chief builders of the bridges, and had them put to death. And to show how angry he was with the Hellespont, he commanded his slaves to throw chains into the strait, and to beat the water with poles, and to say,—

"This thy master does to thee because thou hast wronged him without a cause; and indeed King Xerxes will  cross thee, whether thou wilt or not."

Then King Xerxes had the bridges rebuilt, and when all was ready the great army began to move. And though there were two bridges, and the marching continued without stopping, seven days and seven nights passed before the last man had crossed.

How the Spartans Fought at Thermopylae

When the Greeks heard that King Xerxes was marching against them with so large an army, they were greatly frightened. Some of them made peace with the king, and sent earth and water to him, as he bade them, to show that they gave up their land to him. But the Athenians and the Spartans said that they would die before they would give up their land, and become the great king's slaves.

In the northern part of Greece there was a narrow pass, called the pass of Thermopylae, where the mountains came down almost to the sea, leaving only a narrow road between Through this pass the king's army must go to reach Athens and Sparta; and since it was so narrow, the Greeks thought that by sending men to guard it, they might stop the king's army, and so save their country.

It was decided that while the Athenians, who were the best sailors in Greece, should fight the king's ships on the sea, the Spartans should fight the king's army at Thermopylae. But just at that time there was a great festival among the Spartans in honor of the god Apollo; and although King Xerxes was already marching against their land, they did not wish to slight the worship of their god. The result was that they sent to Thermopylae only three hundred Spartans, under their leader, Leonidas, telling him that they would send more when the festival was over With these three hundred men and a few hundred more that he got elsewhere, Leonidas had to face the hundreds of thousands that Xerxes had, for the other Spartans did not come until after the battle was over.

When Xerxes came in sight of the pass he found the Spartans amusing themselves with gymnastic exercises, and combing their long hair. When he sent to them, and ordered them to give up their arms, they sent back word for him to "come and take them" One of the Spartans was told that the number of the Persians was so great that when they shot their arrows into the air they hid the sun like a cloud "So much the better," he said, "for then we shall fight in the shade."

After waiting four days for the Spartans to surrender, King Xerxes at last sent some of his men to make prisoners of them, and bring them to him. But this they could not do. All that day and all the next day the king's army fought against the Spartans; and though some of the Spartans and many of the Persians were killed, the Spartans would not let the king go through the pass.

At the end of the second day, however, a Greek traitor told King Xerxes of a path which led over the mountain and around the pass.

By this he would be able to send some men behind the Greeks, and attack them from both sides. This he decided to do. On the third day the Spartans fought as bravely as they had done before, but soon the Persians who had been sent over the mountains came in sight behind them. Then Leonidas knew that the end had come. He sent away the men who were not Spartans. But he and his men fought on, for it was considered a disgrace for a Spartan to surrender; and it was only after the last Spartan in the pass was killed that King Xerxes could lead his army safely through.

After the war was over, the Greeks placed a marble lion, in honor of King Leonidas, on the little mound where the Spartans had made their last fight. Near by another monument was set up in honor of his followers, and on it these words were cut:—

"Go, stranger, and to the Spartans tell

That here, obeying their commands, we fell."

How Themistocles Saved Greece

RETURN OF THE VICTORS FROM SALAMIS.

From Thermopylae, King Xerxes and his army marched down into Greece, punishing the people of all the places that had refused to send him earth and water. At Athens the people were in great fear. They knew that their turn would come next, and that the great king would punish them more severely than any of the other Greeks because they had once burned one of his cities. They sent to the oracle at Delphi and asked,—

"O Apollo! How may we save Athens from the wrath of Xerxes?" But the priestess only answered,—

"Fly to the ends of the earth; for nothing can now save your city. Yet when all is lost, a wooden wall shall shelter the Athenians."

This saying puzzled the Athenians very much. It was some comfort to know that though their city was to be destroyed, they were to be saved. But where was the "wooden wall" that Apollo said should shelter them? Some thought it meant one thing, and some thought it meant another. At last a quick-witted Athenian, named Themistocles, said,—

"The wooden wall means our ships. If we leave our city and fight the Persians on the water we shall win the battle. That is what Apollo promises us. Will you do it?"

Themistocles spoke so well that at last the people agreed to do what he advised. When Xerxes came, they went on board their ships and left the city to the Persians. Then the king pulled down the walls, and burned the city and all the houses in it, as a punishment for what the Athenians had done to the Persian city when his father was king.

When he had burned Athens, Xerxes wished to go on to Sparta and punish it also. The only way to reach that city was by marching along a narrow isthmus which joined the northern part of Greece to the southern; and this he could not do until he had driven away the Greek ships which were near it. These ships were in a narrow strait between an island called Salamis and the shore. They had only one-third as many ships as the Persians had; so when they saw the Persian ships row up to the end of the strait and get ready to fight on the next day, they were very much frightened Only the Athenians were brave and fearless. To keep the other Greek ships from slipping away in the night, and leaving them alone to fight the Persians, Themistocles sent a message to Xerxes, and pretended to be his friend.

"if you want to keep the Greeks from getting away," the messenger told the king, "you must send some of your ships around the island, and shut up the other end of the strait."

This seemed sensible, so Xerxes did as Themistocles advised; and all the Greeks had to stay and fight whether they wanted to or not. The next morning the battle began When the trumpet sounded, the Greeks rowed forward and tried to run into the Persian ships and sink them; and the Persians tried to do the same to the Greek ships. When the ships would come near one another, each side would throw spears or shoot arrows at the other side. Sometimes a ship would get alongside a ship of the enemy; and then soldiers would spring upon the deck of the other boat, and they would fight with swords just as they did on land.

All day long the fight went on. There were two things that were in favor of the Greeks, and which helped to give them the victory. There were so many Persian ships that they were all crowded together in the narrow strait, and could not get out of the way when they saw a Greek ship coming. Besides this, the Greeks were fighting for their homes, while the Persians were fighting only because their king had ordered them to; so the Greeks fought the better. At last, after a great many of the Persian ships had been sunk, the rest turned and fled. The Greeks had won the victory, and Themistocles was the one who had helped them most to gain it.

During all the fight King Xerxes had sat on a golden throne on a hill near the strait. He was very angry when he saw his ships flee, and he had many of his captains put to death. But, as he was a coward at heart, he was a little afraid. Suppose the Greeks should send their brave ships up to the Hellespont, and destroy his bridges of boats, how would he and his army get back to Persia? Besides this, he had punished the Athenians by burning their city; and that, he said, was the chief thing he had come to do. So the great king gave up his plan to conquer Greece, and when the next morning came he was already on his march homeward.

This was not the end of the Persian wars, but it was the beginning of the end. Twice the Persians had seemed just about to conquer Greece, and both times they had failed The first time they had failed because Miltiades had fought so bravely against them at Marathon. The second time it was Themistocles who had prevented them by his skill in bringing about the battle at Salamis. After this the Persians were never again to have the chance to conquer Greece; and when next we shall read about them, we shall see how they themselves were conquered by the Greeks in their own land.

Aristides the Just

AN ATHENIAN GENTLEMAN.

Among the Athenians who fought at Salamis was one named Aristides, who was called "the Just." He is as famous as Themistocles, but for a different reason He was not so quick-witted as Themistocles, nor so good a general; but he was so fair and honest in all that he did, that men said, "There is not in all Athens a man so worthy or so just as he."

Even when they were boys, he and Themistocles could never get along together. Themistocles was a bright lad, but he was so full of tricks and so fond of fun that he was always getting into mischief. Aristides could not approve of this, so he and Themistocles were always disagreeing. When they grew up they took different sides in politics, and continued the disputes which they had begun as boys. Whenever Themistocles would propose anything to the Athenians, Aristides would object to it because, as he said, it was too rash, or because it was not fair to their neighbors, or for some other reason. And Themistocles, too, would object to everything that Aristides proposed.

Now, the Athenians had a law which they had made for just such cases as this. Whenever two leaders could not get along in the city, the law said that the people should meet and decide which of the two should be sent away. Each person was to write a name on a bit of shell, and then the shells were put into a large vase. When all the people had voted, the votes were to be counted, and the man whose name was on the greatest number of shells was to go away and stay for ten years.

This was the law which the people used to settle the troubles between Themistocles and Aristides. While the Athenians were writing the names on the shells, a stupid fellow who could not write came up to Aristides and asked him to write the name "Aristides" on his shell for him. Aristides was surprised at this, and asked,—

"Why, what has Aristides ever done to you that you should want to send him away?"

"Oh! He hasn't done anything," said the man; "in fact, I don't even know him. But I am tired of hearing everybody call him ‘the Just' ".

Aristides took the shell without saying another word, and wrote his own name on it. When the shells were counted, it was found that Aristides was the one that had to go

This happened several years before Xerxes marched against Athens. When the Persians came, the Athenians passed a law by which Aristides could return, although the ten years had not yet passed. This Aristides did; and just before the battle of Salamis he went to Themistocles and said,—

"Themistocles, you and I have quarreled with each other for a long time. Let us now cease our quarrel, and only see which of us can do the most good to Athens"

To this Themistocles agreed; and in the battle, while Themistocles commanded the Athenian fleet, Aristides, too, fought bravely against the Persians.

How Pericles Made Athens Beautiful

After the Persians had all been driven out of the land, the Athenians came back to their homes. But now there was only a mass of black and smoking ruins where their fair city had been. The houses were all burned, the walls were only heaps of stones, and even the temples of the gods had been torn down. You can imagine how the women and children felt when they came back from their hiding-places and found the city in ruins. Tears came even to the eyes of the men. But with stout hearts they set to work to clear away the stones and ashes, and before long they had begun the building of a city which was to be larger and fairer than the old one.

But while they were building it they felt they must take care that the Persians did not come back again to tear down what they were rebuilding. So the Athenians and the other Greeks sent ships to keep watch lest the Persians should come again. After a time the other Greeks decided to give the command of this fleet to the Athenians in place of the Spartans, who had always had the lead before. They did this partly because the Athenians had shown themselves to be so brave and wise in the war, but partly, also, because they felt that they could trust Aristides, who was now the Athenian commander. As you can guess, the Spartans did not like this, but they could not help it for a long time.

For many years the Athenians continued to hold the command. During this time their city grew to be rich and powerful, and became the chief city in all Greece. By and by, when Themistocles and Aristides were both dead, a man by the name of Pericles came to have the lead at Athens. He, too, was a great man, but in a way very different from that in which Themistocles and Aristides were great. He was great in his knowledge and love of what was noble and beautiful; and it was to make Athens surpass all other cities in these ways that he set himself to work.

In the midst of Athens there was a high, steep hill with a flat top. In olden times this had been the fort of the Athenians; and before the Persians came there had been a temple to the goddess Athena on it. This has been burned during the war. Now Pericles planned to build in its place not one, but many, temples; and it was on this steep hill that the beautiful buildings sprang up which have made his name famous in all times and in all countries.

Imagine yourself an Athenian boy, and that your father is taking you up this hill to the great festival of the goddess Athena. Only on one side can the hill be climbed, and up this the road winds and turns till it reaches the top. There you come to a gateway or porch of the finest marble, with great tall columns supporting the roof. On the left is a building with rooms filled with pictures and other precious things. Going through the gateway you come out on the top of the hill. Beyond the city you see the blue sea gleaming in the distance. All about you, you see temples and statues. Here is a beautiful temple to the goddess of Victory. Here is a row of statues in honor of heroes, or of Athenian citizens who have won the prize in the games at Olympia. Not far away is a great statue of Athena, the guardian of the city. This statue is taller than the tallest house, and is made out of the swords and shields taken from the Persians at Marathon. From far away at sea the sailors can see the tip of her spear, and then they know that they are nearing home.

Not far from this statue is a temple to Poseidon, the god of the sea. In it is a well of salt water which your father tells you gushed forth there when Poseidon struck the rock with his trident. Coming out of this temple, you walk through a beautiful porch. In this the roof is held up not by columns, but by the statues of six young maidens, clothed in long flowing garments.

But you hurry past these beautiful buildings, so that you may not miss the best part of the festival. You hasten over to the highest part of the hill, and there you come to the largest and most beautiful temple of all. Indeed, it is the most beautiful building that the world has ever seen. It is the temple of Athena, the "maiden goddess." All around it are rows of tall marble columns. Within it is a statue of the goddess, which reaches almost to the roof. This statue is made of ivory and pure gold, and it equaled in beauty and richness only by the statue of Zeus and Olympia. All about the temple are the finest carvings. Here they represent the birth of Athena from the head of father Zeus. There they show the Athenians fighting with the strange creatures, half horse and half man, called centaurs. Here is a long series of carvings showing the great procession of Athenian youths, some on horseback, some on foot, coming to celebrate the festival of Athena And as you gaze at them, longing for the time when you, too, may take part in the worship of the goddess, suddenly you hear your father call,—

"Look, look, my son!"

Then you turn about and look, and there, just coming through the gates and entering upon the top of the hill, you see the procession itself which you have climbed the hill to watch.

Alcibiades, and the War between Athens and Sparta

While Pericles was at the head of the government a great war broke out between Athens and Sparta. The Spartans had been jealous of the Athenians ever since the command of the fleet had been taken from them and given to Athens. While Aristides was alive, the Athenians had ruled so justly that the other cities would not help the Spartans against Athens; and as the Spartans did not wish to go to war alone, they had to wait for a better chance.

After Artistides died the chance came, for the Athenians then ceased to rule justly. Many cities besides Sparta began to dislike Athens, because, as they said, the Athenians got money from them to keep up the fleet against the Persians, and then used the money to build fine buildings at Athens. So when Sparta made war on Athens, a great many cities sided with her; and, as many cities still sided with Athens, this became the greatest war that had ever been fought in Greece.

For many years the war dragged on. Children who were born after it had begun were grown men before it came to an end. On the sea the Athenians were victorious everywhere; for they had a strong fleet, and were much better sailors than the Spartans. But on the land the Spartans were the best soldiers; so the Athenians had to shut themselves up in their city, while all the grain in their fields was trampled down and their country houses were burned by the Spartans.

Soon after the war began, Pericles died. Then the government at Athens fell into the hands of men who were not so able as he had been. One of these was Alcibiades, who was a rich young man, belonging to one of the noblest families in Athens. He was almost as quick witted as Themistocles had been; and he might have done as much good to Athens as Themistocles did, if he had wished. But Alcibiades cared only for himself. He was very vain, and loved to strut about in fine purple robes such as only the women wore. He was like a great spoiled child; but the people loved him because he was so handsome and so bright, and because he spent his money so freely.

After Pericles had been dead some time, both sides grew tired of the war, and a peace was made that was to last for fifty years. It really lasted only six years, and it was all owing to Alcibiades that the war began again.

Many miles west of Athens there was a rich city named Syracuse. This city had taken no part in the war, but Alcibiades thought that it would be a good thing for Athens to conquer it. So he proposed to the people that they send an army to attack Syracuse; and he was such a favorite with them, that the people agreed to do so, and to make him general of the army.

Just before the army sailed away, the people awoke one morning, and found that the images of the god Hermes, which stood before their doors, had been broken in the night This made them very angry. People said that there was only one person that could have committed such a mad prank, and that person was Alcibiades. Alcibiades denied that he had done it; and, indeed, we do not know to this day whether he did it or not. He was allowed to sail away with the army; but his enemies soon persuaded the people to send after him, and order him to return to be tried for the deed.

It was now that Alcibiades showed how selfish he was. He felt abused at what the people had done, so instead of returning to Athens he went to Sparta. There he got the Spartans to begin the war again, and he showed them how they could do most harm to his city. After this the Athenians fared very badly indeed. The army which they had sent to Syracuse was destroyed, and all their ships were lost, and the Spartans became victorious on the sea as well as on the land.

But Alcibiades soon grew tired of the solemn life which he had to live among the Spartans. He felt, too, that the Spartans despised him because he was a traitor. So after a while he sent to the Athenians, and offered to return and help his countrymen against the Spartans. His friends got the people to agree to this; and Alcibiades turned traitor a second time, and joined the Athenians. For a while he was victorious over the Spartans, and it seemed as if Athens would win after all. Then he grew careless, and he lost several battles. At this the Athenians took the command away from him, and gave it to another. A second time Alcibiades left the Athenians; but this time he did not dare go to the Spartans, for fear they would punish him for his treason to them. So for several years he was forced to keep away from the Greeks altogether.

Meanwhile, the long war came to an end. The Spartans conquered Athens, and tore down its walls, so that it would not be powerful any more. Then they turned their attention to Alcibiades, and he was forced to take shelter with the Persians. But even there he could find no rest, and at last he was murdered by some of his enemies. But whether it was by the Spartans, or by some private person whom he had injured, we cannot tell.

Socrates, the Philosopher

It would be hard to find two men who were more unlike than were Alcibiades and Socrates, and yet they were at one time very great friends. Socrates was much older than Alcibiades, but he was the only person for whom Alcibiades seemed to care very much This was partly because Alcibiades saw that Socrates was the wisest man of his time, but it was also partly because Socrates at one time saved the life of Alcibiades

This happened in one of the battles in the long war with Sparta, before Alcibiades had shown what a traitor he could be. The two were fighting side by side in the Athenian army, and both had shown great bravery. Suddenly Alcibiades was wounded, and in a moment more he would have been killed. But Socrates sprang in front of him, and sheltered him with his shield, and so saved his life. At another battle, when the Athenians had been defeated, and were retreating, Alcibiades repaid Socrates Socrates was on foot, and the enemy was following swiftly after them. Alcibiades, who was on horseback, saw the danger of Socrates, and stayed behind and sheltered him until they reached a place of safety.

But although Socrates fought bravely in the war, he is more famous for the wisdom which he showed in his life, and the unjustness with which he was put to death.

When Socrates was a young man he had a friend who admired him very much, and thought that even then he was the wisest person whom he knew. So once when this friend was at Delphi, he asked the Oracle if there was anyone wiser than Socrates, and the Oracle answered that there was not. When this friend came home and told Socrates what the oracle had said, Socrates was very much astonished. He was sure that there must be some mistake, for he knew that he was not wise. He was quite sure that the oracle must mean something else.

So Socrates set to work to show that there were other men in Athens who were wiser than he. First he came to one of the men who were governing the city at that time, and who was looked upon as very wise. "If I can only show that he is wiser than I am," said Socrates to himself, "then I can prove that the oracle means something else."

Therefore Socrates asked this man a great many questions. But he found that the man was not wise at all, though he thought that he knew everything. So Socrates came away, saying,—

"At any rate, I am wiser than that man. Neither of us knows anything that is great and good; but he thinks  that he does, while I know  that I do not. So I am that much wiser than he is."

Then Socrates went to others who were thought to be wise, and things always turned out in the same manner. He found that the men who were considered to be the wisest were the very ones that knew the least about the things that were the very ones that knew the least about the things that were the most worth knowing about. But whenever he tried to make them see this, they grew angry with him.

Then Socrates saw what the oracle meant by saying that there was no one wiser than he But he grew so interested in his search that he spent all his days in the marketplace, and in other spots where crowds were to be found. And whenever he met with a man who thought that he was wise, he would question him, and ask him what goodness was, and what bravery was, and why some people were good and some were bad; and in this way he would try to show that no one was really wise.

Now, you can readily guess that people did not like this. No one likes to have another person prove to him how little he knows. So Socrates offended many people, and made them dislike him. After this had gone on for some time, the enemies of Socrates determined to try to get rid of him. They brought a charge against him in the court, saying,—

"Socrates offends against the laws by not paying respect to the gods that the city respects, and by bringing in new gods; and also by leading the young men into bad habits."

The last part of this charge was wholly untrue. But the people remembered how badly Alcibiades had turned out, and Socrates' enemies tried to make it appear that this was due to Socrates. Neither was the first part of the charge much nearer the truth. His enemies, however, were ready to believe anything against him; and in spite of all that his friends could do he was found guilty. When the judges called upon him to say what punishment he deserved, Socrates bravely answered,—

"Instead of punishment, O Athenians, I deserve a reward; and if you ask me what it is, I say that I ought to be supported by the State as long as I live, just as those who win in the Olympic games are supported; for I am more worthy of honor than they are."

This saying angered his enemies still more, and they then voted that he be put to death But according to their laws a whole month must pass by before this could be done During this time he lived in prison, where he spent his time talking to his friends, who were allowed to visit him. One day they told him that they had made arrangements for him to escape from the prison and fly to some other city, where he would be safe. But Socrates refused. The laws, he said, condemned him to death; and it was his duty, as a good citizen, to obey them even in that.

At last the day came for his death, and all his friends gathered weeping about him. Socrates took the poisoned cup of hemlock which was given him, calmly and cheerfully, and drank it down as thought it had been water. Then bidding good-by to his friends, he lay down on his couch, and soon he was dead.

There is one saying of Socrates that ought always to be remembered. This is it: "Nothing evil can happen to a good man, either while he is living or after he is dead; nor are the gods unmindful of his affairs."

How Epaminondas Made Thebes Free

For many years after the close of the war between Sparta and Athens, Sparta was the chief city in all Greece. But once more than Spartans used their power selfishly and unjustly, and so once more they lost their leadership. The city which caused Sparta to lose her high place among the Greeks was one that you have heard nothing about The name of this city was Thebes; and it was about fifty miles from Athens, and much greater distance from Sparta. The people of Thebes were not so bold and warlike as the Spartans; nor could they make such beautiful statues and buildings, or such great poems and speeches, as the Athenians. So the Thebans had never played any important part in Greek history before this. Indeed, the Athenians used to quite look down on them, and call them "dull, heavy, and stupid folk."

Now, at this time Thebes was ruled entirely by Sparta. There were Spartan governors over the Thebans, and there were Spartan soldiers in the city to make the people obey these governors. Of course the Thebans did not like this, especially as the Spartans had gained this power over them most unjustly. They did not dare to fight openly against the Spartans, because the Spartans were so much better soldiers than they were. So the most daring of the Thebans made a plot to murder the Spartan leaders, and force the Spartan army to leave the city.

One of the Thebans whom the Spartans trusted most invited the leaders of the Spartans to a fine feast at his house. Without suspecting anything, the Spartans came. When they had eaten heartily, and drunk heavily of the wine, their host said that he would next bring in some women to sing and play for them. But the "women" that he brought in were young Theban men, each of whom had a sword his in the folds of his dress.

Just as they entered, a messenger came with a note to one of the Spartans. The Thebans were very much alarmed at this, for they thought that it must be to warn the Spartans of the plot. So it was, but the carelessness of the Spartans saved them from discovery The messenger said that the note was on very important business, and must be read at once; but the person to whom the note was sent, replied,—

"Business can wait until to-morrow." And he thrust the note aside without glancing at it. Thus the Theban youths were able to carry out their plan unhindered, and free their city from its Spartan rulers.

The Theban leaders knew, however, that Sparta would be very angry at what they had done, and that another and larger Spartan army would be sent to punish them. So it was necessary that the Thebans should choose some wise and brave man to be their general in that dangerous time. The man that they chose for this position was Epaminondas, who was one of the greatest men who ever lived in Greece. He had not had anything to do with the plot to kill the Spartan governors, because he was afraid that innocent persons might be killed by mistake. But after the Spartans were driven out, no one did so much for Thebes as Epaminondas did.

In carrying on the war with Sparta, Epaminondas was helped greatly by his friend Pelopidas. The way in which they became such great friends was this. While they were fighting in a former war, Pelopidas was wounded in seven places, and fell so badly hurt that it seemed that he must die. But Epaminondas stepped forward and protected him with his shield, and fought alone with the enemy until the other Thebans could come to his aid. So Epaminondas saved the lie of Pelopidas; and ever after that, as long as they lived, they were the best of friends. There was only one thing that they could not agree about. Pelopidas was rich, while Epaminondas refused to permit, in spite of all that his friend could say.

In this Spartan war the two friends now worked together so well, with so little jealousy or ill-will, that all the Greeks wondered and admired. The two were very different from one another. People sometimes said that Epaminondas was the brain of Thebes, while Pelopidas was her right hand. Pelopidas was a very brave and brilliant soldier; and when he charged at the head of "the Sacred Band" of young Theban soldiers, he would nearly always put the enemy to flight, and win the battle for Thebes. But it was Epaminondas who planned the battles. For the first time he taught the Greeks how to draw their men up in a heavy column which could break even the Spartan line when it charged. So he changed the whole manner of fighting among the Greeks. But he was something more than a great general. He was a great statesman as well,—almost as great as Themistocles had been; and as he was also a very good and just man, you see that we were right in saying that he was one of the greatest men that ever lived in Greece.

For eight years after the Spartans had been driven out of Thebes the Spartan kings kept trying to get that city back again. At the end of that time a great battle was fought between the Spartans and Thebans, which showed how strong the army had become which Epaminondas led. For the first time in the history of Sparta, her army was fairly beaten by a smaller number of men. After that battle—the famous battle of Leuctra—the Spartans gave up trying to capture Thebes; for they now had all they could do to keep the Thebans from capturing Sparta.

Year after year Epaminondas led a Theban army down into the Spartan land. On one of these expeditions his army came even in sight of the city of Sparta itself, and the Spartan women and children for the first time saw an enemy's camp-fires around their town.

Sparta was a city without a wall, and Epaminondas might now have captured it in spite of all the Spartans could have done. But he did not. Perhaps he thought of the brave stand that the Spartans had made at Thermopylae, and was unwilling to destroy a city that was called "one of the eyes of Greece." At any rate, he turned aside and left the city untouched; though at a later time, when once more he had gotten in sight of the city, he tried hard to take it and failed.

At last the long war drew to a close. First Pelopidas fell, fighting bravely at the head of his troops. Then two years later, in a great battle with the Spartans, Epaminondas was wounded in the side with a spear, and fell dying. When his sorrowing friends gathered around him, he asked first whether his shield was safe. He was told that it was, and that the Spartans had been defeated again. Then he asked for the other generals. Both of these, they told him, had been slain.

"Then," said Epaminondas, "you had better made peace." And having given the best advice he could, he told them to draw out the spear-head from his side. A stream of blood flowed forth, and he breathed his last.

The Thebans followed the dying advice of Epaminondas, and peace was made with Sparta. Thebes never became the leading city in Greece as Athens and Sparta had been, and perhaps Epaminondas did not wish that it should. But it had broken the Spartan power, and never after the battle of Leuctra was Sparta able to rule any of the other Greek cities in the way that she had ruled Thebes. And the man who more than all others had made this impossible was Epaminondas.

King Philip and Demosthenes

DEMOSTHENES.

After the power of Sparta had been broken by its wars with Thebes there was no city in Greece which could claim power over the others. They were all free and equal now; and if the Greeks had been as brave and noble and wise as they had been when they fought against the Persians, their cities might have remained free.

But this was not the case. Their leaders now thought more of money than they did of their country, and let themselves be bribed by their country's enemies. And the cities were all so jealous of one another, and each so afraid that some other city might get power over it, that they would not join together to save their freedom So when the king of another country made war upon them, just as the Persian king had done one hundred and fifty years before, the Greeks were beaten, and all their cities lost their freedom.

The people who were to conquer the Greeks were the Macedonians, and their country lay just north of Greece. The Macedonians were not so civilized a people as the Greeks were. They had almost no cities; and most of them lived in the country, herding cattle and tilling the soil. But they were a brave and warlike people, and when they had a strong skillful king to lead them they became very powerful.

While the Greeks were at their weakest the Macedonians found such a king. His name was Philip. While he was still a boy, he was taken as a captive to Thebes, and there he stayed for several years. He was a bright boy, he was taken as a captive to Thebes, and there he stayed for several years. He was a bright boy, so that he learned there all that the Greeks could teach him. The Theban soldiers were at this time the best soldiers in Greece, and from them young Philip learned the art of war. And so well did he learn it, that after he had gone back to Macedonia, and had become king, it was found that he was a better general than any other man of that time.

After Philip had become king of Macedonia, the first thing that he did was to build up a strong army on the plan that he had learned in Thebes. Then he used this army to win some rich gold-mines from a barbarian people who dwelt near his kingdom. After that he had not only a fine army, but also a great treasure to use in carrying on his wars. The next thing that he needed to make his kingdom great was a harbor on the coast, so that ships might come to and go from his kingdom. The Athenians still ruled over several of the coast towns in that region, and by a trick King Philip got one of these. Then he began to plan to go into Greece itself, and make himself master of that country as well.

As you can imagine, the wiser Greeks were very much troubled when they heard how strong this king of Macedonia was becoming. But they were only a few. Most of the Greek cities were so much taken up by their quarrels with their neighbors that they paid little attention to what was going on among the "barbarian Macedonians" And if at any time one of the wiser Greeks thought to warn the others, King Philip would send him such handsome presents and such flattering letters that he would change his mind, and say nothing about the danger. So well did the king succeed in bribing the Greek leaders, that he used to say,—

"No town is too strong to be captured, if once I can get a mule-load of silver passed within its gates."

But there was one Greek that Philip could neither bribe nor flatter. This was Demosthenes, the Athenian. Demosthenes was not a general nor a soldier; indeed, in the only battle in which he took part he became so frightened that he threw down his shield and ran away. But he was one of the greatest orators that the world was ever seen And when it was necessary to tell the Athenians unpleasant things about themselves, and to warn them again King Philip, no man was so brave as Demosthenes.

When Demosthenes was only seven years old, his father died, leaving him an orphan. The guardians who were appointed for him were dishonest men, and they wasted and stole most of the property which his father had left him. So as Demosthenes grew to be a man, he began to plan how he could get the judges to punish his guardians, and make them give up the property which they had stolen.

Now, in those days every man had to be his own lawyer. So Demosthenes began to practice writing speeches and repeating them, so that when the time came he might prove to the judges how unjustly he had been treated. But he had a great many difficulties to overcome. He was awkward and ungraceful in his manner, and his voice was weak, and he did not speak distinctly. To learn to do so, he used to make long speeches with pebbles in his mouth. To make his voice stronger, he would walk along the beach by the sea, and make speeches loud enough to be heard above its roar. And to overcome his awkwardness he used to say his speeches before a large mirror, so that he could see every motion that he made.

At last, after years of practice, he went to law with his guardians, and he made such good speeches that he won his suit. Then he began to take part in politics; and by the time that King Philip had begun to interfere in Greece, Demosthenes had become so great an orator that Philip once said,—

"Demosthenes' speeches do me more harm than all the fleets and armies of the Athenians."

The most famous speeches that Demosthenes every made are those which he made against King Philip. In those orations, Demosthenes told the Athenians how King Philip was bribing their leaders, and how he was preparing to make himself master of all the Greeks. Demosthenes wanted the Athenians to cease their quarrels with Thebes and other cities, and make war upon Philip. But for a long time the men whom Philip had bribed were able to prevent this, in spite of all that Demosthenes could do

At last one evening as the officers of the city were seated together at supper in the city hall, a messenger came and told them that an army of King Philip had seized a strong place not far from Athens. Now the Athenians saw that Demosthenes was right, and that the danger was real. Everybody ran hither and thither, and all was confusion Demosthenes alone knew what to do. He told them that they must at once send to the Thebans, and get them to help in fighting Philip. This they did; and the Thebans joined them, for their freedom was in danger too.

Then the army of the Thebans and the Athenians marched to oppose King Philip. For several weeks they succeeded in keeping him back. At last one day a terrible battle took place, in which the Greeks fought bravely. But their short spears were of little use against the long pikes with which King Philip had armed his men. So the Greeks were terribly beaten, and after that day they were never free as they had been in the days of Themistocles and Pericles.

Alexander the Great

ALEXANDER THE GREAT

When King Philip had conquered the Greeks, he treated them kindly, but he made them choose him to be their leader. Then he told them that he was planning to go on into Asian and conquer the Persians, and the Greeks willingly agreed to help him. But before Philip could carry out his plans he died, and his son Alexander became king in his place.

Alexander soon showed that he was even a greater man than his father had been. While he was still a boy, a beautiful but wild and high spirited horse had been brought to his father's court. None of the king's men could manage it; and King Philip was about to send it away when Alexander said,—

"I could manage that horse better than those men do."

The king heard what his son said, and gave him permission to try it. Alexander ran forward, and took the horse by the bridle. He had noticed that the horse seemed to be afraid of the motion of its own shadow, so he turned him directly toward the sun Then he stroked him gently with his hand until be became quiet.

When this had happened, Alexander gave one quick leap and was on the horse's back, and in a little while he was riding him quietly about the yard. King Philip was so pleased with what Alexander had done that he gave him the horse for his own, and in later years it carried him safely through many battles. Alexander was so fond of it that, at last, when it died, he built it a splendid monument.

Alexander was only twenty years old when he became king, but he soon showed that he could manage his kingdom as well as he could his horses. Because the king was so young, the people that his father had conquered thought that they could now win back their freedom. But Alexander marched swiftly from one end of the kingdom to the other, and everything was soon quiet again. The young king then made ready to carry out his father's plans, and make war on the Persians. Soon he had an army of Macedonians and Greeks ready, and with this he crossed over into Asia

In one of the cities that he came to there was a famous knot, which fastened the yoke to the pole of a chariot. This was the "Gordian knot," and an oracle had foretold that whoever should unfasten that knot should rule over the whole world. Many persons had tried to this, but all had failed. When Alexander came, he looked at the knot for a moment, and then he drew his sword and cut it apart. So he "cut the Gordian knot;" and whether or not it was because of that, he soon did become the ruler of all the world that was then known

Alexander fought three great battles with the Persians; and although the king of the Persians had twenty times as many men as Alexander had, Alexander won all three of the battles This was partly because the Greeks and the Macedonians were so much better soldiers than the Persians; and also it was because the Persian king was such a poor general and such a coward. Almost before the fight had begun, the Persian king would leave his chariot, mount a horse, and gallop away as fast as he could; and of course his soldiers would not fight after their leader had fled.

After the third battle the Persian king was killed by some of his own men, as he was trying to get farther and farther away from Alexander; and then Alexander himself became king of the mighty empire of the Persians. Besides Persia itself, he got Palestine, where the Jews lived then, and Egypt, which was older and richer than any of the other countries. After he had won these countries, Alexander turned and marched far eastward into Asia, looking for other lands to conquer. On and on he marched for many months, over mountains and burning deserts and fertile plains He found many strange lands, and conquered many strange people. But still he urged his army on and on, till they began to fear that they would never see their homes again.

At last they reached India, which you know Columbus had tried to reach by sailing around the world in the other direction. Here Alexander's army refused to go farther; and he was forced, much against his will, to turn about and return to Persia.

But you must not think of Alexander as only a great conqueror. He was a great explorer as well; and wherever he went he gathered specimens of strange plants and animals, and sent them back to learned men in Greece. And as he also sent back accounts of the lands which he conquered, you will see that he added a great deal to what men knew about the world. He was also a wise ruler, and founded many new cities in Asia and in Egypt. After he had returned from India, his mind was full of plans for making one great empire out of the many countries over which he ruled. The capital of this empire was to be in Persia; and the Greeks, the Macedonians, the Jews, the Egyptians, and the people of India were all to have a part in it.

But while he was full of these plans, he suddenly became ill of a fever, and died. He was only thirty-two years old; yet he had been king for nearly thirteen years, and had done more wonderful things than any other king before or since.

Here we must leave the story of the Greeks. After Alexander died, there was no one to rule over his vast empire, and it soon fell to pieces. The Macedonians continued to rule over the Greeks for more than a hundred years longer; then, when they lost their power, there was another people ready to step in, and take their place as rulers of the Greeks. So the old Greeks never got back their freedom; and as a people who are not free cannot have noble thoughts, or do noble deeds, the Greeks never again became as great as they had been in the days of Aristides and Pericles

Table of Contents

The Peninsula of Italy

If you will look at a map of Europe, you will see three great peninsulas extending from its southern coast into the Mediterranean Sea. The one which lies farthest to the east is the peninsula of Greece; you may have read of its beautiful scenery, and the brave people who lived there in olden times. The peninsula farthest to the west, with the Atlantic Ocean washing its rocky coast, is Spain. The land lying between the two is Italy; and it was there that a great people lived, many centuries ago, whose story you are now to read.

These three peninsulas of southern Europe differ greatly from one another in shape and size. The Grecian peninsula is not nearly so large as that of Spain or Italy, and it has a number of smaller peninsulas running out into the surrounding seas like the stubby fingers of a great hand. Spain is the largest of the three, and it is almost square in shape, with few bays and capes along its coast-line. Italy, which lies between the two in position, is also between the two in size and shape. It is larger than Greece, and smaller than Spain, and its coast line is neither so broken as that of the former, nor so regular as that of the latter. In shape, Italy is long and slender, and very much like a huge boot. On the map you will see it lying in the midst of the Mediterranean, with its toe to the south and its heel to the east; and if you will look closely you will see that there is a great spur, too, upon the back of the boot, but, instead of being placed on the heel, it has slipped far up on the ankle.

The peninsula of Italy lies about as far north on the earth's surface as the State of New York, but it has a very different climate from that which is found in this latitude in America. To the north of it lies a high chain of mountains, which protect its sunny plains from the cold northern winds; while the sea that lies around it is warmed by the hot currents of air from the deserts of Africa. In this way, the winters are made milder, and the summers warmer, than with us, so that the orange and the olive grow there, where the people of our own country raise the pear and the apple.

The surface of Italy varies greatly in different parts of the peninsula. In the northern part, between the steep wall of the Alps and the mountains to the south of them, lies a broad, well-watered plain, larger than the State of Indiana. Here we find the most fertile land in all Europe, where grow great fields of wheat and other grain, and groves of waving mulberry trees. Here, too, is to be found the largest river of Italy the River Po which draws its waters from the melting snows of the Alps and flows eastward to the Adriatic Sea.

South of the basin of the Po, we come to a belt of mountains again. These are the Apennines. They are not nearly so high as the snowy Alps, but still they are higher in many places than the tallest peaks of our Appalachians. From where they leave the Alps, the Apennines sweep eastward almost across the peninsula; then they gradually curve to the southward and extend to the very toe of the peninsula. This same range appears again in Sicily, and forms the backbone of that island. Among these mountains we may see many lofty peaks, covered to the very top with forests of chestnut, oak and pine. Between the parallel ridges of the chain lie pleasant valleys without number; and at their foot are broad uplands where herds and flocks can find pasture in the hottest and driest summer weather.

On both sides of this wooded mountain chain, plains and wide belts of marshy country stretch away to the sea. On the eastern side, the slope is quite steep and short, and the land there is hilly and broken by deep gorges through which the rivers have cut their way to the Adriatic. Only people who live, for the most part, on the products of their sheep, goats and cattle, can find, a living here. On the western side, the slope is more gentle, and broad, fertile plains lie between the mountains and the sea. Here the people do not have to depend so largely on their flocks and herds, for they can raise grain, and grow vineyards; and, in the south, groves of orange, fig and olive trees may be seen.

As the peninsula is so narrow and the slopes so short, you could not expect to find long, deep rivers, in that part of the country which lies south of the River Po. Many streams rise in the mountains, and flow down across the country into the sea, but they are most of them short, and few of them are deep enough to bear a ship, or even a boat of large size. They vary, how-ever, according to the season of the year. Sometimes, after the rains have begun to fall, or when the snow is melting on the tops of the mountains, they are rushing torrents which sweep everything before them. Then, again, when the summer heats have come, and the rains have ceased, they shrink to little harmless streams, or dry up altogether. The only river, south of the basin of the Po, which is deep enough to bear boats and small ships all the year around is the Tiber. This river rises in the Apennines, where they bend to the south; it follows a long course through the plains, and then flows into the Mediterranean about half-way down the western side of the peninsula. The waters of even this longer river vary greatly at different seasons of the year, and its swift current is so often muddied with floods from rains and melting snows that it has been called "the yellow Tiber."

Now that we have seen the surface of the peninsula of Italy, suppose that we go aboard a ship and sail along its shores in order to get an idea of its coast. We will begin our journey at the point farthest to the west. Here the Alps and the Apennines run together, and the mountains lie close to the water's edge. The shores are steep and lofty, and in many places there is barely room for a road to run between the mountains and the sea.

Sailing from here across the gulf which lies between the peninsula and the mainland, we come to a coast where the Apennines leave the shore and are lost to sight to the eastward. This part of the coast is not so mountainous, but still it is high and rocky. As we go southward, however, it gradually becomes lower, until we see the flat and marshy plains that lie about the mouth of the Tiber. Let us look well, as we pass, at that broad, flat plain that lies south of the Tiber; for it was there, many centuries ago, that the people lived of whom we are to read.

When we have sailed past this low-lying coast, we come again to a bold and rocky shore. Here the coastline is cut into broad, deep bays, whose shores are dotted with towns which were founded long, long ago. Towering above the waters of one of these bays we see the smoking summit of Mount Vesuvius, one of the most famous volcanoes in the world.

From here; all around the toe of Italy, the sea is faced by steep rocks, behind which rise lofty heights. On the shores of the great gulf which lies between the toe and the heel of the peninsula, we find another broad, well-watered plain; and here too are cities which were founded in the ancient days.

As we sail around the eastern corner of the peninsula, we look out upon a low and sandy country, which makes up the heel of the boot. As we continue up the eastern shore, we notice that there are almost no good harbors on this side of the peninsula. We do not need to be told, therefore, that in ancient times there were few cities here, and that only shepherds and cattle-raisers lived on the rolling plains.

In some places this eastern shore is high also, and in others we find long stretches of low and sandy country. When we reach the land about the mouth of the River Po, we see wide, unhealthy marshes and many small sandy islands. Upon a group of these islands, the wonderful city of Venice is now built; but in the times of which you are now to read, there was no Venice, and all these islands were either marshy wastes, or the homes of a few scattered fishermen.

In this peninsula of Italy, which we have been examining so carefully, there now lives a nation of people who are united under one king into a government called the kingdom of Italy. But when our story begins, about seven hundred and fifty years before Christ was born, there was no kingdom of Italy and no Italian nation.

Instead of this, there were many separate groups of people living in the peninsula, who were only distantly related, and who had very little to do with each other. They knew much less about their country than we do now; for there were no books then to tell them about it, and in every direction the mountains, the rivers, or the sea hemmed them in, and made traveling so difficult that they could not well find out about it for themselves. So it happened, that most of these peoples were acquainted only with the groups who lived close by them; and they were interested only in their own little city, and in their farms and pasture-lands which lay about it.

In those olden days, each little city had its own king, who governed the people in time of peace, and led them in war, when they fought against their neighbors. Often, when there came to be too many people to live comfortably within the walls of a city, the younger and the poorer people would go away from their old homes and begin a new city somewhere else.

Each of these new cities, like the old one, would be built on a hill or some high place which could easily be defended against their enemies. There the people would build their fort—or citadel, as they called it—and the rest of the town would grow up about it. Then, from their homes in this strong place, the people would go into the surrounding country to cultivate their farms and to herd their cattle; but to this spot they would always retreat in time of danger. In this way every town lived more or less to itself, obeying its own king, fighting its own battles, and owning and cultivating a few miles of land about it.

In very early times, there was one city of this sort, on the south bank of the River Tiber, about twenty miles from the sea. It was called Rome, and at first it was probably not very different from a hundred other towns in Italy. As time went on, however, Rome was to become much more than this. It was to conquer, first, the cities that lay nearest to it. Then it was to conquer those which lay farther and farther away, until it had made all Italy its own. Then it was to reach out, and conquer all of the lands about the Mediterranean Sea. In this way, it was to become, at last, the mightiest city that the world has ever seen.

Romulus and the Beginning of Rome

We do not know just when, or how, or by whom the first beginning of Rome was made. It happened so long ago, and so few people could write in those early days, that no account, written at the time, has come down to us. Indeed, it is very likely that nobody then dreamed that the world would ever care to know how this little city was first commenced.

But, after Rome had begun to grow, and to conquer her neighbors, and people had begun to read and write more, then the Romans themselves began to be curious to know about the beginning of their city. It was too late to find out then, for the persons who had been alive at the time that it was founded were now long dead and forgotten. But the Romans continued to wonder about it, and at last they made up many stories of the early years of their city; and they came to believe these stories themselves, and have handed them down to us who have come after them.

According to these stories, the first settlers at Rome came from a little city named Alba Longa; and the way they happened to leave that place and settle at Rome was this.

The rightful king of Alba Longa had been put out of power by his brother. Then this brother had killed the true king's sons, and shut his daughter up in prison; and there the princess had given birth to beautiful twin sons. When her cruel uncle heard this, and saw how large and strong the children were, he was much troubled; for he feared that, if they should grow up to be men, they might someday take his ill-gotten throne from him. He determined, therefore, to put them to death; so he took the sleeping children in the wooden trough which served as their cradle, and gave them to a servant, and told him to drown them in the River Tiber.

The river at this time was overflowing its banks, and the main current ran so swift and strong that the man was afraid to go near the bed of the stream. For this reason, he merely set the trough down in the shallow water at the river's edge, and went his way. There the children floated gently, for some time, while their cradle was carried by the waters to a place where seven low hills formed the southern bank of the stream. The river was now going down as rapidly as it had risen; and here, at the foot of a wild fig tree which grew at the base of one of these hills, the cradle at last caught in a vine and came safely to land.

In this way the children escaped drowning, but they were still alone and uncared for, far from the homes of men. Soon, however, they were provided for in a wonderful manner. When they began to cry of hunger, a mother wolf that had lost its cubs came to them, and gave them milk; and a woodpecker flew down from the trees and brought them food.

In this way the children lived for some time. At last a shepherd of Alba Longa, who had often watched the wolf coming and going from the place, found the boys and saw how they had been cared for. The Italians thought that wolves and woodpeckers were sacred to Mars, their god of war; so this shepherd had no doubt that the children were favorites of that god. He took them up, therefore, and brought them to his little hut, and he and his wife named the boys Romulus and Remus, and adopted them as their own.

As they grew up among the shepherd people, Romulus and Remus became strong and brave, and showed spirits that nothing could subdue. Whenever there was a hunting party, or a contest in running or wrestling, or a struggle with robbers, who tried to drive off their flocks and herds, Romulus and Remus were sure to be among the foremost.

In this way, they won great fame among the shepherds, but they also gained the hatred of evil-doers. At last, some lawless men, in revenge, seized Remus at a festival, and bore him to the false king of Alba Longa, and charged him with robbery. There the true king saw the young man, and he was struck with his appearance, and questioned him about his birth, but Remus could tell him little.

In the meantime, the shepherd who had found the boys told Romulus the whole story of the finding of himself and Remus; and Romulus gathered together a company of his companions, and hurried to the city to save his brother. In this he soon succeeded; and then the two brothers joined together to punish the cruel king of Alba Longa, and to set their newly-found grandfather on his throne once more.

After this, the brothers were not willing to remain in Alba Longa unless they could govern there, and yet they did not wish to take the government from their grandfather. As there were now more people in the city of Alba Longa than could live comfortably within its walls, it was decided to build a new city under the leadership of Romulus and Remus; and the two brothers decided to build the city near the fig tree, where they had been found as children by their foster-father.

This was an excellent place for a city. On the nearest hill, which was called the Palatine, they could build their citadel; and at its foot were valleys in which they could plant their grain. If they wanted to trade with other cities, there was the River Tiber near at hand, for their boats to come and go upon; and, if, at any time, the city should grow too large for this one small hill, there were the six other hills nearby to which the city might spread.

After Romulus and Remus had decided upon the place for their city, a difficulty arose. A new city must have a founder, who should give his name to it; but which of the brothers should have this honor? As they were both of the same age, and could not settle the matter by giving the honor to the elder, they agreed to leave the choice to the gods of the place. So each took his stand upon one of the hills to receive a sign from the gods by watching the flight of birds. Then Remus saw six vultures from his hilltop; but Romulus, a little later, saw twelve. This was thought to be a better sign than that of Remus; so Romulus became the founder of the new city, and it was called Rome after him.

Then Romulus began to mark off the boundaries of the city. He did this by hitching a bull and a cow to a plough, and drawing a deep furrow about the hill. After that they raised a wall about the place, and Romulus invited to his city all persons who might wish to come and settle there. And many of his rude shepherd friends and many of the young men of Alba settled there with him; and men from other places, both slaves and freemen, joined them from time to time.

In this way there were soon enough men in the city to make it a match for its neighbors in war. But still there were few women in the town, for the neighboring people would not allow their daughters to be taken in marriage by the runaway slaves and rude herdsmen of Rome.

At last, Romulus planned to get by a trick what he could not get by fair means. He made a great festival in honor of the gods, and invited the people of the cities near at hand, and especially those of the tribe of the Sabines, to come and behold the games that were to take place. The people came, bringing their sisters and their daughters with them; then, while the visitors were intently watching the spectacle, the young men of Rome suddenly seized upon the young women and carried them off to their homes to be their wives.

Of course, this broke up the festival, and the visitors left Rome, furiously angry at the wrong that had been done them. The men of Rome soon found that they must fight to keep the wives that they had taken by force.

At first, it was only the people of the cities near at hand that came against them, and these the Romans easily defeated. But soon the powerful Sabine tribe, with their king at their head, came against Rome; and then the Romans were not so successful. First a fort, which the Romans had built on the hill called the Capitol, fell into the hands of the Sabines. Then, on the next day, the Romans and the Sabines met in battle in the valley between the Capitol and their city. The fight raged fiercely for a long time. First one side, and then the other, seemed victorious; but the battle still went on.

At last, the captive Sabine women took courage to interfere and stop the bloodshed. They threw themselves between the weapons of their fathers and their brothers on the one side, and those of their newly-made husbands on the other; and they implored them to cease the fight, as it must bring sorrow to them, no matter who became the victors.

Then the battle ceased, and the leaders of the Sabines, moved by the appeal of the women, came forward to make peace. It was agreed that the Romans should keep their wives, and that the Sabines should go to Rome to live, and that the two peoples should share the city between them.

From this time the city grew rapidly, and it soon spread to others of the seven hills by the Tiber. Its people became so strong in war that none of their neighbors could harm them; and in war and in peace, Romulus was their leader, and was greatly beloved by the people. He made many laws for them and established many good customs. He ordered that every eighth day there should be a market held at Rome, at which the country folk might sell their produce; and he himself heard cases and dealt out justice there in the market place. And to aid him in the government, he formed a council of the older and wiser men, which was called the Senate, or the council of the city fathers.

In this way, Romulus tilled his people for thirty-seven years. Then, one day, as he was reviewing the army, a sudden darkness fell upon the earth, and a mighty storm of thunder and lightning came upon them. When this had passed, and the air was clear once more, Romulus could nowhere be seen.

While the citizens were seeking their king, and mourning for him, a citizen came forward, who said that, in the midst of the storm, he had seen Romulus carried up to heaven in the chariot of his father, Mars. After that the people ceased to mourn for him, for they now believed that he had become a god, and from that time on they not only honored him as the founder of their city, but they worshiped him as one of the gods of heaven.

Numa, the Peaceful King

After Romulus had been taken from them, the Romans at first could not agree as to who should be king in his place. The citizens who had first settled there wished to choose a king from their own number again; but the Sabines objected to this. They said that they had faithfully obeyed Romulus while he lived, and that now it was their turn to have a king chosen from among themselves.

For a long time, the two parties could not come to an agreement. In the meantime, the Senate took the place of a king, and carried on the government itself. This, however, did not please the people. They said that now they had many kings, instead of one; and they demanded that a real king should be chosen. At last, it was arranged that the old citizens should choose a king from among the Sabines; and Numa was then chosen to rule in the place of Romulus.

The new king was different from Romulus in many ways. Romulus had been a great soldier, and he had trained the people of the city for war; but, during his time, the men of Rome had little time or thought to give to anything else. It seemed to King Numa that there were other things which were of more importance than the knowledge of war, and the art of winning battles. He saw, too, that the Romans were too harsh and violent, as warlike people always are; and he wished to soften their manners and make them less rude.

So King Numa made peace with all the enemies of Rome; and, during the three and forty years that he ruled, there was no war. This left the Romans free to till their fields, and learn the arts of peace; and to encourage them in this, Numa divided among the citizens the lands which Romulus had won in war. King Numa ruled his people as a wise and peaceful king; but, better than this, he also taught the Romans how to honor their gods.

The Romans believed in many gods, indeed, almost everything, and every act, was looked upon by them as having a god to watch over it. In later times, when they came to know the Greeks, they confused their own gods with the gods of the Greeks; and still later, they sometimes borrowed gods from other peoples with whom they came in contact. So, if we tried to write down all the gods that the Romans believed in, it would make a very long list indeed, and not a very interesting one. But there were some of the gods that were very important in the life of the Romans, and you ought to know about these.

The chief of the gods was Jupiter, the "Sky-father," whom they called the "Best and Greatest." He sent forth the clouds and ruled the storm, and the thunder-bolt was his weapon. It was he, too, who sent the birds whose flight showed the will of the gods to men; and Victory and Good Faith were his constant companions.

JUPITER.

Next to Jupiter (or Jove, as he was sometimes called), the Romans worshiped Mars, the god of war. He was also the god who kept off sickness from the cattle, and blight and disease from the growing grain. They also worshiped the goddess Juno, as the companion of Jupiter, and the queen of the sky. It was she, they thought, who cared for the Roman women, and made their children strong and vigorous. Minerva was the goddess of wisdom and inventions. She taught men the use of numbers; and each year the priest solemnly drove a nail into her temple, so that they might in this way keep count of the years as they passed; on her festival, too, the school children had holiday, for she was the goddess of schools and learning. Vesta, the goddess of the hearth-fire and of the home, was also worshiped by the Romans, and that too in a special way, as you shall see in a little while.

Last of all, there was a curious god of Beginnings; called Janus, to whom the Romans sacrificed whenever they began anything new. The first month of the year was called in his honor "January," or the month of Janus. He was especially the god of gateways; and when the Romans wished to represent him, they made a figure with two faces on one head, to show that, as the guardian of the gate, Janus looked in both directions. When the Romans were at war with any people, the gates of his temple stood open, but when they were at peace, they were closed; and during all the reign of Numa, the gates of Janus were fast shut.

The Romans already believed in these gods when Numa became king; but he showed them more clearly the way in which each god was to be worshiped. He seemed so wise in these matters that the Romans believed that one of the gods themselves must teach him. At last it was whispered that he was often seen to wander forth to a sacred grove where dwelt a nymph, or mountain spirit, named Egeria; and the Romans believed that this nymph loved him and advised him as to what would be pleasing to each of the gods.

One of the things that Numa did was to divide the priests up into different companies, or colleges, and give each company its own part in the worship of the gods. In this way, he set apart separate priests for the worship of Jove and Mars and Romulus; and the chiefs of these priests, together with the king, were the high priests of Rome, and had charge of all things connected with the gods. A college of sacred heralds was also formed, whose business it should be to make a solemn declaration of war when the Romans took up arms against an enemy, and to proclaim the treaty of peace when the war was at an end.

For the worship of the goddess Vesta, Numa formed a company of virgins, or maidens, whose number was set at six. It was their duty to offer prayers each day, in the circular temple of the goddess; and, above all, they must take care that the holy fire which burned upon Vesta's altar was never allowed to die out.

Only the daughters of the noblest families of Rome could be appointed for this service; and they could not be chosen before they were six years old, nor after they were ten. When a Vestal Virgin was appointed, she was taken to the house of the Vestals, where she must live for the next thirty years. The first ten years she spent in learning the duties of her office; the next ten years she practiced what she had learned, and the last ten she taught their duties to the newly-made Vestals. When the thirty years were past, she might leave the Vestals, and marry and have a home of her own, if she wished; but she rarely did so. Great honor was shown them by the Romans, and if a criminal, who was being led away to imprisonment, met a Vestal Virgin by chance, he was at once set free.

VESTAL VIRGINS.

There was one other company of priests, which arose in a peculiar way, and had very curious duties. These were the "dancing priests" of Mars, and the Roman writers say that they arose in the following manner:

In the eighth year of Numa's reign, a great sickness came upon the Romans; and while the people were much discouraged on this account, suddenly a shield of brass fell from the heavens at the feet of King Numa. When he consulted the nymph Egeria about it, she told him that it was the shield of Mars; and that the god had sent it down for the preservation of the city and that it should be kept with great care.

Then King Numa ordered that eleven other shields just like this one should be made; so that, if an enemy of the Roman people should attempt to steal the shield of Mars, he might not be able to tell the true from the false. This was done, and then King Numa appointed twelve young men of the noblest families to take the shields in charge; and he appointed a yearly festival which they should keep in honor of the god.

Each year, when March the month of Mars came around, these priests were to take the sacred shields, and go leaping and dancing through the streets of the city, singing old songs in his honor. This festival lasted for twenty-four days, and each day the procession came to an end at some appointed place. Then the shields were taken into one of the houses nearby, and there the dancing priests were entertained with a fine supper.

Numa also ordered that whenever a war should break out, and it should be necessary for a Roman army to march out to battle, the general should first go to the altar of the war-god, and strike the sacred shields and cry out:

"Awake, Mars, and watch over us!"

Then so the Romans believed the god would answer their appeal by going unseen before the army as it marched to battle; and in later days stories were told of times when the god appeared in the form of a young man to encourage the soldiers, and lead them on when they were in danger of being defeated.

In this way, King Numa arranged the worship of the different gods. By the sacrifices, religious dances, and processions which he appointed, he made the worship pleasant and agreeable to the people. So they followed the rules which he laid down for them, and, in the course of time, the Romans began to lose some of the fierceness which had marked the first rude settlers.

At last, after many years of quiet rule, King Numa died peacefully of old age, and all the nations about Rome so honored the memory of this king that they sent crowns and offerings to his funeral.

The Last of the Kings

After the death of Numa, the long peace which Rome had enjoyed came to an end. Under the kings who followed him, the wars with her neighbors were renewed, and it was centuries before the gates of the temple of Janus again stood closed. Some of these rulers were more peaceful than others, but all were good warriors. So the Romans were usually successful in their wars, and the land which Rome ruled grew larger, bit by bit, by their conquests. Above all, the Romans learned two lessons in these times. They learned to fight well and bravely; and they learned to obey their rulers in war and in peace.

After a number of years, trouble arose between Rome and Alba Longa, its mother city. War followed, and the men of Alba were defeated. Then it was agreed that the people of that city should leave their homes and seek new ones at Rome; and the city of Alba Longa was destroyed.

The settlers who came from Alba Longa, at this time, were so numerous that the population of Rome was nearly doubled by their coming. As the city grew, the hills about the Palatine had been occupied, one after the other, and now Rome could truly be called "the City of the Seven Hills." As the city grew, it became necessary to defend these new parts also against Rome's enemies. At last, new walls of stone were built for the city, and all of the seven hills of Rome were included within them. So large was the space which they enclosed, that for many hundreds of years the city did not outgrow them; and so well was the work done in building them, that parts of these walls are still standing to this day.

Many other useful public works were built at this time. The valleys between the hills of the city were low and marshy in places; to drain these, and make them healthy and fit for men to dwell in, great sewers were built which emptied their waters into the River Tiber. In one of the valleys, also, a race-course was laid out, for the chariot races, of which the Romans were very fond.

On the hill called the Capitol, a great temple was built in honor of the three gods, Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva; and this temple stood as the chief center of the Roman worship until it was burned, five hundred years later. It was so large that it covered eight acres of ground. Its gates were of brass, covered with gold; while the inside was of marble and was decorated with gold and silver ornaments. When the workmen were laying its foundations, they had to remove a number of altars that had already been set up there; but the altar of the god of Youth, and that of the god of Boundaries, they could not move. Then the priests said that this was a sign that Rome should ever remain young and strong, and that her boundaries should never be moved backward; so the two altars were allowed to remain, and they were enclosed in the new temple.

While this great temple was still unfinished, an old, old woman came one day to the king of Rome. She brought with her nine "books," or rolls of paper, in which were written down oracles or prophecies. These told how the wrath of the gods might be turned away, whenever it had brought sickness, famine, or other misfortune, on the people. She offered to sell the books to the king; but the price which she asked for them was so high that he refused to buy.

Then the old woman went away, and burned three of the books. When she returned, she offered him the six books that remained, but she asked for them the price which she had before asked for the nine. Again the king refused to buy. Once more the old woman burned three of the books; then she returned, and again she offered the king the ones that remained for the price she had at first asked for all.

This time the king yielded. He bought the three books at the price which she asked; and when the temple on the Capitol was finished, they were placed in a vault under it for safe keeping. After this, whenever any trouble came upon the city, one of the first things that the Romans did was to consult these books; and the message which the priests found in them, the people accepted as the voice of the gods.

After many years, the seventh king sat on the throne of Rome, and men called him Tarquin the Proud. He was a cruel and wicked man. He had gained his power by bloodshed and violence, and he used it like a tyrant. He repealed the good laws which had been made under the kings who had ruled before him, and he made others in their place. The nobles complained that he did everything by his own will, and never asked the Senate for its advice and assistance; and the people murmured at the constant wars which he carried on, and the hard tasks to which he set them in time of peace. At last, all Rome was weary of his rule, and the people of the city only needed a leader to turn against him.

This leader they found in a noble named Brutus, who had suffered much at the hands of the king. His brother had been put to death by Tarquin; and Brutus, to save himself from a like fate, had been obliged to give up his property and pretend to be dull and slow of mind, so that the king might find nothing in him to fear.

But Brutus's dullness of mind was only pretended, Once he had been sent as the companion of the king';4 sons when they went to consult the great Oracle at Delphi, in Greece. After finishing the business upon which they had been sent, the young men asked the Oracle which one of them should succeed King Tarquin as ruler of Rome. The Oracle replied, that he who should first kiss his mother upon their return should rule the city. When they returned to Italy, each of the princes hurried off to find their mother, in order that he might kiss her first, and so gain the throne. But Brutus understood the Oracle better. As he landed from the ship, he pretended to stumble and fall, and so kissed the ground beneath him. He guessed that the Oracle had not meant a person at all, but the great Earth, the mother of us all.

Tarquin might, perhaps, have been king of Rome until he died, if it had not been for the great wickedness of one of his sons. While Tarquin was away from the city, carrying on a war with a neighboring people, this son caused the death of a noble Roman lady named Lucretia. Because of his act, her husband and her father were filled with grief and rage. Brutus, who was with them, now threw off his pretended dullness. He seized the bloody dagger that had slain Lucretia, and swore with them that he would never rest until the family of Tarquin had ceased to reign at Rome. In order that all might see what cause they had to turn against their king, they laid the dead body of Lucretia in the market-place of the little town where she had been slain. Then Brutus hastened to Rome, and told the story there. At once the people were filled with anger against Tarquin and his sons. When the king and his followers returned to Rome, they found the gates of the city closed against them; and, in spite of all that he could do, Tarquin was never again to come within the city walls.

After they had cast out the Tarquins, the people took an oath that they would never, from that time on, allow anyone to become king in Rome. One of the first things which they then had to do was to find some other form of rule, to take the place of the old one; for unless they had a settled government, their enemies would be able to overcome their armies, and King Tarquin would return to his throne once more.

So the people set up a republic. They agreed that two men, called consuls, should be elected each year; and these consuls, with the Senate, should rule Rome in the place of the kings. When the vote w4s taken for the consuls for the first year, it was found that Brutus was one of the two men who were elected; so the oracle was fulfilled which foretold that he should follow Tarquin as ruler at Rome.

The War with Lars Porsena

Tarquin the proud was not content, however, to see his kingdom slip from him so easily; and the Roman people were soon obliged to fight for the right of governing themselves. Their first trouble came from within the city itself; and this, perhaps, no one had expected.

There were some of the people of Rome who were not pleased at the driving away of the king, and who would have been glad to have him back with them again. These persons were young men of high family and much wealth, who had been the companions of the young princes, and who had enjoyed rights and privileges under the rule of Tarquin, which were now taken away from them. They complained bitterly of this, and said that, though the rest of the people had gained by having Tarquin go, they had lost by it. So, when the chance offered itself, they selfishly began to work to bring Tarquin back.

The chance came when Tarquin sent men back to Rome to claim the property which he and his sons had left behind them in the city, when they had been driven away. While these men were in Rome, they secretly made a plot with the dissatisfied young nobles to place King Tarquin on his throne once more. This was treason on the part of the young nobles; but they cared more for their own pleasures than they did for their city. However, the plot was discovered by a slave. From him the consuls learned of it; and they ordered that the plotters should all be seized. Then it was found that among these young men were the two sons of the consul Brutus himself.

This made it very hard for Brutus, for it was part of his duty as consul to act as judge in the trial of prisoners. But he was a true Roman, and loved his country even more than he did his own sons. He took his seat with the other consul, and, when the young men were led before the judges, Brutus did not hesitate to condemn them all to death. Then the prisoners were given into charge of attendants of the consuls, called lictors. The lictors each carried a battle-ax, bound into a bundle of rods, as a sign that the consuls had the right to punish both with the rods and with the ax. They took the young nobles, and first whipped them with the rods, and then put them to death. And the Romans saw, with admiration and pity, that the stern virtue of Brutus did not fail him even when his own sons were put to death before his eyes.

Tarquin was only made more angry and determined by the failure of this plot. He now decided that if he could not get back his throne by a trick, he would try to do so by war. He went about from city to city, begging help from the enemies of Rome to bring that city back under his rule once more. And no matter how often he was refused, or how often when he got help he was defeated in battle, he was always ready to begin again.

At last, Tarquin got the help of a powerful king who ruled over a part of Tuscany, as the district is called which lies north and west of the Tiber. A fine poem (Macaulay's Lays of Ancient Rome)  has been written about this war by an English writer, and in it you may read how

Lars Porsena of Clusium,

By the Nine Gods he swore

That the great house of Tarquin

Should suffer wrong no more.

By the Nine Gods he swore it,

And named a trysting day,

And bade his messengers ride forth,

East and west and south and north,

To summon his array.

When the Romans heard this news, they were filled with dismay; and from all sides the country people flocked into the city. Never before had so great a danger threatened that place. But the Senate and consuls prepared as well as they could to meet the attack, and tried to hope that they might still be able to defeat their enemies.

LICTORS.

Just across the river from Rome was a long, high hill. Here the Romans had built a fort as a protection to the city; and to connect this with Rome, a wooden bridge had long ago been placed across the rapid stream of the Tiber.

If the Romans could hold this height and the bridge, the city would be safe. But by a quick march, and a fierce attack, the enemies of Rome seized the height. Then they rushed on to gain the bridge also; and many of the Romans who were guarding it were struck with fear, and turned to flee into the city.

At this moment a Roman named Horatius rushed in among those who were fleeing, and sought to stay their flight.

"What good will it do you to flee?" he cried. "If you give up the bridge it will not be long before there are more of the enemy in Rome itself than there are here. Break down the bridge before you go! Meanwhile, I will guard the entrance, so far as one man may."

At these words, the soldiers were seized with shame. While two of their number stepped up to Horatius's side, to defend with him the narrow entrance, the others fell to work with swords and axes and levers to tear down the bridge behind them. When the last timbers were just ready to fall, the soldiers called to Horatius and his brave companions to come back, while there was yet time to cross. His two companions darted back across the swaying timbers; but Horatius lingered to the last. Then, just as he turned to cross, with a mighty crash the bridge fell, and he was left alone with his enemies.

Alone stood brave Horatius,

But constant still in mind;

Thrice thirty thousand foes before,

And the broad flood behind.

"Down with him!" cried false Sextus,

With a smile on his pale face.

"Now yield thee," cried Lars Porsena;

"Now yield thee to our grace."

The Stories of Mucius and Cloelia

After Lars Porsena had failed in his attempt to seize the bridge over the Tiber, his army lay for a long time about Rome, and within the city food became very scarce and high in price. Lars Porsena thought that he could starve the city into surrendering, and at last it began to look as though he might succeed. But a young noble named Mucius thought it a disgrace for the Romans to be obliged to lie within the walls, surrounded by the army of the enemy, and to do nothing to help themselves. So he went before the Senate and said:

"O Fathers! permit me to cross the Tiber and attempt to enter the enemy's camp. For it is in my mind to do a great deed, if the gods assist me."

Though they did not know what he planned, the Senate gave him leave to go; and, with a sword concealed under his garment, Mucius set out. When he reached the camp of Lars Porsena, he found a great crowd of soldiers receiving their pay from a man in a purple robe who sat upon a throne. Mucius thought that surely this man must be King Porsena; so he entered the crowd, and, when he had come near enough, he fell upon him and slew him. But this man was only the king's clerk, and the soldiers nearby seized Mucius and brought him before the real king for judgment. When Lars Porsena demanded of the youth who he was and what was the meaning of his deed, Mucius answered:

"Know, O King, that I am a Roman citizen. Mucius is my name. You are the enemy of my country, and I sought to kill you. I know that I shall suffer death, and I have the firmness to meet it. But do you prepare yourself to battle for your life every hour; to have the sword of the enemy at the very entrance of your tent. That is the war which we, the Roman youth, declare against you."

At these words the king was much disturbed, and demanded to know more, and ordered fires to be kindled around the prisoner, if he did not explain the plot which seemed to be formed against him. But Mucius only replied

"Behold! and see of how little account the body is to those who have great ends in view."

As he said this, he thrust his hand into the fire which was burning upon an altar nearby, and held it there without a sign of pain or flinching.

The king, astonished at this act, arose from his throne and commanded that the young man be taken away from the altar. Then the king said to him:

"You have acted more like an enemy to yourself than to me. I should encourage you to be always so brave, if that bravery were only shown upon the side of my country. At all events, I shall now send you back to Rome, untouched and unharmed by me."

Then Mucius replied, as though making a return for the kindness shown him:

"Since bravery is so honored by you, O King, I will tell you that three hundred of the best of the Roman youth have plotted to attack you in this manner. It was my lot to come first. The rest will follow, each in his turn, until we shall make an end of you."

When Lars Porsena heard this, he saw how hard it would be for him to take Rome, if, its people were willing to give up their lives in this way for the city. He sent Mucius back to Rome in safety, where he was honored ever afterwards by the name of the "left-handed," because his right hand had been destroyed in the altar fire.

Then Porsena agreed to make peace with the Romans, and to take his army away from around the walls of the city. But first he demanded pledges from the Romans that they would keep the peace; and they gave him the sons and daughters of the noblest Roman families, and Lars Porsena took them away with him as hostages, so that he might punish them if the Romans broke the peace.

Among the hostages who were obliged to go with Lars Porsena was a high-spirited girl named Cloelia. She did not like to live as a captive in a strange camp, and she made a plan to escape. Porsena's army then lay not very far from Rome, on the banks of the Tiber; and one day Cloelia, taking a number of other girls with her, managed to swim across the river, and reached Rome in safety.

When the king was told of the escape of the hostages, he was very angry, and sent messengers to Rome to demand that Cloelia and her companions should be sent back to him. The Romans kept their faith, and returned the girls to Porsena; for they thought that they had no right to keep the children simply because they escaped so bravely. When Porsena saw that the Romans were acting fairly in the matter, his anger faded, and he became as generous as they had been just. He led all the Roman prisoners before Cloelia, and bade her choose half of them to return with her to their homes. She chose the youngest among them, and they were then sent back to Rome with great honor, for Lars Porsena said:

"The girl Cloelia is as brave as Mucius and Horatius."

Even after Lars Porsena had made peace with the Romans, Tarquin was not yet satisfied that he would never again be allowed to rule at Rome. When he found that Porsena would no longer help him, he did not rest till he had found another king to fight for him. Then he marched again against Rome, with the armies of thirty cities at his back. The Romans heard with terror of the approach of this great force, for they feared that they would not be able to beat back so many enemies; and to meet their danger, they made a change in their government.

They had found that sometimes the two consuls could not agree, and that the state was weakened by their quarrels. So, in order to prevent this from happening now, while their freedom was to be fought for again, they determined to try another plan. They elected one man to fill the place of a king while the danger lasted, and they called him a Dictator. Everyone was to obey him, as though he were a king in truth; and when he led the army out to fight against King Tarquin and his friends once more, the people hoped that they would win the victory,

For a time, however, it seemed that they would be defeated. The soldiers fought bravely, and the Dictator made every effort to win the battle, but at last the men began to give way. Then the Dictator prayed to the twin gods, Castor and Pollux, and vowed to build a temple to them in Rome if they would give their help. Even as he prayed, two youths, on horses as white as snow, rode to the front of the Roman army, and began to press the enemy back, and at last drove them to their camp. But when the Romans had gained their victory, and turned to look for the youths who had saved the day for them, they could find no sign of them except a hoof-print in the rock, such as no earthly horse could have made.

When the army returned to Rome, however, the old men and women, who had been left in the city, told them a wonderful tale. While they had waited in the Forum, for news of the army, two strangers on white horses covered with the foam of battle, had suddenly appeared and ridden to the pool of water by the temple of Vesta. There they had dismounted and bathed their weary horses in the cool water, while they told the people of the victory of Rome. When one of the men who had gathered about them doubted the report which they brought for it seemed too good to be true,—the youths had smiled and gently touched his beard with their hands; and the hair, which before lead been as black as coal, became yellow, like bronze. Then all had believed the good news; and after that the youths mounted again and had ridden away, to be seen no more.

When the Dictator heard this story, he could no longer doubt that his prayer had been heard. The two youths who had aided the army, and who had brought the news of the victory to Rome, he now knew to be Castor and Pollux. So a temple was built to the twin gods on the spot where they had washed their horses; and some of its columns stand in Rome to this day.

After this battle, Tarquin the Proud was unable to get anyone to help him make war on Rome. Two years later he died, and after that there were no more attempts to restore the rule of the Tarquins in the City of the Seven Hills.

Secession of the Plebeians

During all the long years after the founding of the city, Rome had been growing steadily, in spite of her many wars with her enemies. It was not only that her boys and girls grew up to be men and women with children of their own, and in this way the number of people in the city was increased; many persons came to Rome from other places and settled there. Sometimes they did this because the river Tiber made Rome a good place to carry on trade; sometimes they came because the hills of Rome made the city a strong place, where they could be safe from robbers. Sometimes, too, the Romans would conquer the people of another city in battle, and would bring them in a body to live at Rome. So, in many ways, the number of the people in the city grew, until it was said that, about the time that King Tarquin was driven out, there were as many as eighty thousand men in Rome, who could serve in war if there was need of them.

This was a good thing for Rome in some ways, but in one way it was bad. The new people and their children were not allowed to take part in the government, so the Romans came to be divided into two classes. The descendants of the old families were called patricians, and they alone could hold the offices and be priests. The descendants of the newcomers were called plebeians; and, though they could own property, and carry on business, and sometimes were allowed to vote, yet they could not be elected to any office and in other ways were not allowed the full rights of Roman citizens.

After King Tarquin was driven away from the city, the plebeians became worse off than they had been before. The patrician consuls and the patrician Senate used their power for the good of their own class. The patricians alone were allowed to use the public land, from which, you will remember, some was given to Horatius as a reward. But worst of all was the cruel law of debt, which was now enforced against the plebeians more harshly than ever before.

When a poor plebeian returned from fighting in the wars of his country, he might find that the crops on his little farm outside of Rome had been destroyed by the enemy, and his cattle had been driven off. Then he would be obliged to borrow money of some rich patrician to help pay his taxes and support his family until the next harvest could be gathered. But, if another war followed during the next summer, he would have to leave his farm again, and so could not pay his debt when he had promised. Then he might be seized and put into prison, and even sold as a slave, by the man to whom he owed the money.

In this way, many plebeians suffered from the harsh laws, and they became very much discontented. At last, one day, an old soldier appeared in the market-place at Rome, appealing to the people in his great misery. His clothes were soiled and torn, and his hair and beard had grown long and shaggy over his pale, thin face. But in spite of his pitiful appearance he was recognized as a man who had been a brave officer in the army, and on his body could be seen many scars which he had gained in battle.

"While I have been fighting in your wars," he cried, "the enemy have destroyed the crops upon my land; they have burned my house and driven off my cattle. The money which I was compelled to borrow, I could not pay back. So my farm has been taken from me; I have been thrown into prison; and see! here are the marks of the whip upon my back."

When the people heard his story and saw his wretched condition, a great tumult arose. The people rushed upon the houses of the patricians and set free the prisoners whom they found in them. Soon, from every side, men came running who had suffered like this brave man from the cruel laws of debt; and the market-place was filled with angry shouts.

In the midst of this trouble news came that their enemies, the Volscians, were on the march toward Rome. At first the plebeians refused to enlist in the army, which was called to go out to fight them. When they were promised, however, that the laws about debts should be changed, they gave in their names and marched out to the war. Then, when the Volscians had been defeated, and the war was over, the patricians refused to change the laws as they had promised. After a great deal of trouble, the plebeians at last determined to settle the matter for themselves. You have read that the Romans learned two things under their kings, to fight and to obey. They believed that they must obey their laws and their rulers even if they were cruel and unjust; and, although they were now greatly abused, they did not use their arms against the men who ruled them. Instead of killing and burning, the plebeians formed another plan.

"We cannot use force against our consuls," they said, "but we will leave the patricians to fight for themselves when the next army comes marching against the city. We will let them receive the wounds and bear the evils from which we have been suffering."

Then they marched out from the city, and set up an armed camp on the Sacred Mount, which was not far from Rome. There they waited quietly for many days, without attacking any one and taking only enough food from the people of the country to keep themselves from starving.

Meanwhile, in Rome the consuls and the Senate were filled with dismay. The main support of the state was gone, and the patricians began to realize how much they had depended upon the plebeians for the good of the city. There was nothing now to stand between them and an enemy, and they trembled to think what would become of Rome if an army should now come marching against it. When they heard that the men upon the Sacred Mount were talking of beginning a new city, as Romulus and his companions had done, they felt that they must give way, or else sacrifice themselves and their city. At last, they sent a man to the people to offer to make terms with them. He was a wise and eloquent man, and he had been chosen because he was beloved by the common people. The plebeians admitted him willingly to their camp, and listened eagerly to his message. He began by telling them a story.

"Once upon a time," he said, "the other parts of the human body began to grumble because they had all the work to do, while the stomach lay idle in their midst, and enjoyed the results of their labors. So they agreed that the hands should not carry food to the mouth, or the mouth receive it, or the teeth chew it. In this way, they thought to starve the stomach into submission. But soon they found that the different members, and even the entire body itself, began to grow weak and thin, and that, the more they starved the stomach, the weaker they all became. Then they began to see that the service of the stomach was by no means a small one; that it not only received nourishment, but supplied it to all the parts, and that the members of the body could not themselves live and do their work without it."

As you can easily see, the messenger meant to show the people, by this fable, that the inhabitants of a city form one great body, with each class depending upon every other for its welfare. The people listened patiently to him, and saw the truth in what he said. In the end, they returned to Rome, but only after the patricians had agreed that, from this time on, the plebeians should have a number of officers of their own, called Tribunes, to protect them.

These tribunes were given very high powers. When anything was being done, even if it were by the consuls themselves, the tribunes could step forth and say, "Veto!" which means, "I forbid it!" and at once it must stop. No one might harm a tribune in any way, and during the year that they held office, the tribunes always slept in their own houses in the city, with their doors open day and night, so that no one might seek their aid in vain.

With the tribunes to help them in their difficulties, the common people were relieved of many of their troubles. But still the struggle between the patricians and the plebeians lasted for nearly two hundred years longer, and did not cease until the plebeians had been given equal rights in the government with the patricians. Through all this long struggle there was very little bloodshed, and there was never war between the two classes. And often, when the struggle was at its fiercest, the patricians and plebeians would lay aside their quarrels, and march out, side by side, to fight the enemies of their city.

In this way the Romans learned something better than how to fight battles successfully, they learned how to govern themselves. The patricians always held out for their rights just as long as they could, but when they were beaten, they knew how to give way and make the best of it. From these struggles the whole people learned obedience and self-control, and so became fit to rule themselves, and other lands also, when they grew strong enough to conquer them.

The Story of Coriolanus

Not long after the people had gained their tribunes to protect them, a noble lady, named Veturia, lived in Rome. She was a widow, and had but one son, Caius Marcius, whom she loved very dearly. From his babyhood, Caius was a strong, brave boy, and his mother had every reason to be proud of him, except for one fault. He had a violent temper, and never learned to control it; and, in the end, this brought great trouble upon both his mother and himself.

Caius was proud of his mother, and proud of belonging to the noblest class in the city; and from his earliest youth, he tried to make himself worthy of both. At that time, almost the only training of a Roman youth was for war, and the stories say that Caius labored so faithfully to learn the use of weapons, and to make his body strong, that there was soon no youth in the city who could equal him.

At last, the time came when Caius Marcius went to his first battle, and in this he proved himself to be a good fighter, although he was still almost a boy. He came back to his mother with a crown of oak leaves upon his head, which was the way in which the Romans honored those, of their soldiers who had not only fought bravely in battle, but who had also succeeded in saving the life of a Roman citizen.

You may be sure that the heart of the lady Veturia was glad and proud, when she saw her son riding home to her from his first battle, with the wreath of honor upon his brow. But she had still greater cause to rejoice later, for, as time went on, and Caius was called to fight for his city again and again, she never once saw him return without honors and rewards. And his greatest pleasure in his honors was the pride and delight which his mother took in them.

At one time, when Marcius was fighting with the Roman army, they were besieging the city of Corioli, in the country of the Volscians. As the soldiers lay camped about the city, they heard that a large force was marching to attack them from behind. The consul, who was leading the Romans, did not wish to be caught between the walls of Corioli and a fresh army, and thus be attacked on both sides at once. So he divided the army into two parts, and left the smaller part to watch the town, while he marched against the army of the Volscians with the other.

When the people of Corioli saw that only a small part of the Roman army was left to lay siege to their city, they came rushing out from their gates to attack them. The Romans were driven back, and they would have been defeated if it had not been for Marcius. So fiercely did he attack the enemy that they were forced to give way before him. Then he encouraged his companions to pursue the flying soldiers to their city gates. Even there he was not willing to stop, but, still urging his men onward, he rushed into Corioli after the defeated enemy, and kept them at bay, and the gates open, until the rest of the army could come up and take the city.

Then, as though he had done nothing to give him need of rest, he led a part of the men to help the consul in his fight against the Volscians. They arrived just as the battle was beginning, and fought bravely with the others until the victory was won. After the battle was over, Marcius was offered much rich booty as a reward, but this he would not take. He accepted only the horse of the consul, which was pressed upon him as a gift, and asked but one favor.

"I have one request to make," he said, "and this I hope you will not deny me. There is a friend of mine among the Volscian prisoners, a man of virtue, who has often entertained me at his house. He has lost his wealth and his freedom, and is now to be sold as a common slave. Let me beg that this may not be done, and that I may be allowed to save him from this last misfortune."

The consul granted this request, and Marcius returned to Rome with no other reward than this for his brave deed. But, in honor of what he had done, the people gave him a third name, which was formed from that of the city which he had taken; and, after this, he was called Caius Marcius Coriolanus. His mother, who was as proud as Coriolanus himself, must have been better pleased with this title for her son than if he had brought home a great treasure to enrich the family.

If Coriolanus could have been always with the army, doing such brave deeds, the rest of his story might have been very different. But, as he was a Roman patrician, he was not only a soldier, but one of the rulers of the city as well. The proud, fierce temper, which Marcius had shown even in his boyhood, began to exhibit itself more and more plainly as he grew to be an older man and took more part in the affairs of the city.

He thought that only the patricians should have part in the government of Rome, and he hated the tribunes, who could stop the patrician consuls by their veto. This made the plebeians fear him, and, though the nobles admired him for his courage, and wished to make him consul, the people refused to elect him. Marcius was bitterly angry over this defeat, and was never willing to forget that he had been so slighted after his services to the city.

Then a time came when the dislike which Coriolanus had for the plebeians made him do an unwise thing, which proved to be his ruin.

On account of the many wars which had laid waste the fields, there was not enough grain raised on the lands of Rome to feed her people; and the consuls sent even as far as Sicily for corn to keep the city from famine until the next harvest time. When the grain tame to Rome, it seemed to bring more trouble than comfort to the starving citizens; for Coriolanus proposed to the Senate that they should not allow the poor people to receive the grain until they had promised to give up their tribunes, and be governed entirely by the patricians, as before. Some of the senators were wise enough to see that this would never do, and when the people arose, and threatened the Senate, it gave way in spite of Coriolanus, and allowed the corn to be sold at a low price.

But the people were not satisfied with receiving their grain. They now so feared and hated Coriolanus, for having tried to starve them into giving up their rights, that they would no longer have him in their city. He was brought to trial by the tribunes, and the people sentenced him to banishment for life from Rome.

Coriolanus went away with his heart full of bitterness. He could not see that he had been wrong, and he felt only hatred now for the Roman people, who, as it seemed to him, had abused and mistreated him. He went, therefore, to the country of the Volscians, against whom he had fought so many battles for the Romans. At the fall of night, he came to the house of one of their chiefs. There he entered and seated himself as a suppliant at the hearth, with his mantle covering his face. He had such an air of pride and sorrow that the members of the family did not dare to question him, but sent for Tullus, the master of the house. Tullus immediately went to him, and asked him who he was and for what purpose he had come to him. Then Coriolanus arose and threw the covering from his head, and looked him proudly in the face.

"Do you not remember me?" he said. "I am that Caius Marcius who has brought so much trouble upon the Volscians. If I were to deny this, my name of Coriolanus would still declare me your enemy. That name is the one thing which I received in reward for my perils and hardships in battles, and it is the one thing that the Romans have left me, as they send me forth an exile. Now I come, an humble suppliant at your hearth, not for protection, but for revenge. Let me lead your people against the Romans, and you will have the advantage of a general who knows all the secrets of your enemies. If I may not do this, let me perish as your foe, for I no longer wish to live."

Tullus was rejoiced to give him what he asked, and soon Coriolanus marched against Rome with a Volscian army at his back. When he came near the city, the Romans were seized with fear, for they felt too weak to contend against the Volscians, when led by Coriolanus.

The senators and the people, therefore, agreed to send messengers to Coriolanus, offering to restore him to his place at Rome, and begging him not to bring the terror and distress of war upon his city. These messengers were chosen from among the friends and relatives of Coriolanus, in order that they might have more influence with him. But he treated them harshly, as if he had altogether forgotten his former love for them, and no peace could be settled upon. Then the Romans sent all the priests of Rome, clothed in their sacred robes, to beg for peace; but they also were turned away.

Then the city was given over to despair, for the people felt that there was no cruelty of the harshest enemy that could be compared with the fierce wrath of the exiled Coriolanus. The old men knelt weeping at the altars of the gods, and the women ran wailing through the streets of the city. But Veturia, the mother of Coriolanus, gathered about her the wife of her son, his children, and the noblest women of the town, and set out for the camp of the Volscians to try what she could do.

Coriolanus saw the company of Roman women moving as suppliants through his camp, but he watched them unmoved, until he recognized his mother at their head. Then his proud soul was shaken, and he ran to her with his arms outstretched, as though he were the little Caius once more. But his mother drew back and spoke sternly and sadly to him.

"Do I behold you, my son," she cried, "in arms against the walls of Rome? Tell me, before I receive your embrace, whether I am in your camp as a captive or as your mother. Does length of life give me only this, to behold my son an exile and an enemy? If I had not been a mother, Rome would not have been besieged! If I had not had a son, I might die free, in a free country! But be sure of this, my son, that you shall not be able to reach your country to harm it, unless you first cross the body of your mother."

As Veturia spoke these words, she threw herself down upon the ground at the feet of Coriolanus, as a suppliant before her own son. But Marcius, weeping, raised her from the earth, and cried:

"O Mother! what is this that you have done to me! You have saved Rome, but destroyed your son. I go, conquered by you alone."

Then Coriolanus led his army away from Rome; and it is said that he met his death at the hands of the disappointed Volscians. Veturia returned in loneliness to Rome, mourning for her beloved son; but she held him less dear than she did her country's freedom.

The Family of the Fabii

The family of the Fabii, and, indeed, all the families of Rome, were very different from our own American families, or any others that you may know about. You think of your family as being made up of your father and mother, brothers and sisters, and, it may be, a grandfather or a grandmother who lives with you. You have other relatives, of course, aunts, uncles, and cousins; but perhaps these live far away in some other part of the country, and you may know very little about them. Even if you have a family of cousins living in the same town with you, you do not think of them as belonging to your own family, as your brothers and sisters do.

This was all very different in the city of Rome. There the families were held closer together than with us, and cousins that were so distantly related that we should scarcely think them cousins at all, were all counted in the great family to which their fathers and grandfathers and great-grandfathers had belonged for centuries before them. This made the families very large, as large, perhaps, as your own would be if you could go back through all your grandfathers to the first one who came to America, and then should gather together all the persons in the country to-day who are related to him, however distantly.

If you will only think for a moment of how many this might be, you will not be surprised to find that the family of the Fabii, counting men, women and children, is supposed to have contained many hundreds of persons. Of course, all these people did not live in the same house, as we think of families doing to-day, for that would have been impossible. But they all bore the name of Fabius, and they all obeyed the head of their family more readily than sons nowadays obey their own fathers.

The Fabii belonged to the patrician class, and were richer and more powerful than any other family in Rome; so, year after year, some one of them was sure to be elected consul. At last, the common people grew weary of this, especially as the Fabii always opposed the tribunes in everything that they wished to do for the good of the people. The, plebeians grew to dislike the Fabii so much that they were willing to do anything to distress and annoy them.

While the people were in this humor, Kaeso Fabius, who was then one of the consuls, led the Roman army against the enemy. He left the city with his horsemen and foot soldiers, and drew up his men before the enemy's camp. He was a good general, and everything was well arranged for the battle, when he gave the signal for the attack; but, at the command, the cavalry alone, who were all patricians or rich men, obeyed and went against the foe. The plebeians, who were the foot soldiers, hated their consuls so much that they stood still and refused to go forward and take their part in the battle. They did this, not because they were afraid to fight, but because they wished to see their consul go back to Rome disgraced by defeat.

Though the Fabii were proud and haughty men, they now saw that they had gone too far in their harshness toward the common people.

When some of Rome's neighbors heard of this trouble at Rome, they agreed that this would be a good time to lead their forces against the city and make an end of the Romans altogether. So, during the next year, another force, from several cities, came marching together against Rome.

The Roman Senate was greatly distressed at this, for one of the consuls was again a Fabius, and they had no way of making sure that the soldiers would not behave in the same way that they had done the year before. Indeed, the soldiers left home with a sullen look, as though they were determined to show their anger again, even at the risk of bringing ruin upon the city. For this reason, the consuls were afraid to trust their men in battle, and when they came near the enemy, they pitched their camp, and fortified it, and quietly kept their soldiers within it.

Day by day, and week by week, the army lay within its camp. The enemies of the Romans now began to think that there was trouble again between the patricians and the people, and that the soldiers had again refused to fight. They were delighted at this, and felt as though the victory was already won. Often they. would come close to the Roman camp and scoff at the soldiers who lay within.

"You pretend to disagree," they would call, mockingly, "so that you may not show how afraid of us you are. Your consuls fear to lead you to battle, for they distrust your courage even more than your obedience."

The Romans could not endure these insults for very long. Soon, the men who had come out of Rome determined not to fight, were begging their consuls to lead them against the enemy. But Fabius did not think that they were ready yet; so he only replied:

"The time has not yet come."

The soldiers were still forced to remain closely in their camp, and listen yet longer to the taunting cries of the enemy, who called "Cowards, cowards," and, at last, threatened to attack the camp itself. Then, when Fabius saw that the Romans could no longer be kept from attacking the enemy who insulted them, he drew the army up and said to them:

"Soldiers, I know that you are able to conquer these men who mock you; but what makes me hesitate to give battle is the doubt whether you will do it, or will stand still in the face of the enemy, as you did last year. I have, therefore, determined not to give the signal for battle until you will swear by the gods that you will return victorious. Our soldiers have once deceived the Roman consuls; the gods they will never deceive."

Then one of the foremost soldiers raised his hand and cried:

"Fabius, I will return victorious from the field or die upon it. If I deceive you, may the anger of Jupiter, Mars, and all the gods be upon me."

Following his example, the whole army took the same oaths. They were then led forth to battle, and, after a hard fight, during which the soldiers were faithful to the last, they defeated the enemy.

After this, the Fabian family tried rather to favor the poorer people than to be harsh and stern in their treatment of them. Kaeso Fabius ordered all the soldiers who were wounded in this battle to be cared for in the houses of the rich; and in the homes of the Fabii, these men were treated more kindly than anywhere else. In this way, little by little, the people forgot their hatred of the Fabii, and began to look upon them as their friends. And the Fabii soon proved that, however proud they might be, they were willing to give everything for the safety of their city.

There came a time when all the enemies of Rome seemed to be taking up arms against her at once, and the people were over-burdened with the preparations for meeting so many enemies, in so many different directions. As the Senate was anxiously discussing the means of meeting the danger, Kaeso Fabius arose, and, speaking for all the Fabian family, he said:

"Fathers, do you attend to the other wars. Appoint the Fabii as the enemies of the Veientians. We pledge ourselves that the honor of the Roman name shall be safe in that quarter. And, as we ask this war for our family, it is our plan to conduct it at our own expense. For the city, which is so burdened with other dangers, should be spared the expense of soldiers and of supplies in this direction."

The Senate accepted this offer with joy and thankfulness, and the next day the Fabii left the town. There were three hundred and six men, all patricians and all Fabii, in this little army. The people, quite forgetting their former dislike of the family, followed them through the streets of the city; and, at the altar of each god, they begged that the brave men might go forth to victory, and return safely to their homes once more.

These prayers, however, were all in vain. No one of that little company ever came back to Rome. They went forth and built a fort facing the lands of their enemies, and they kept them in check for many months. But at last they were surprised and overcome by them, and all of the army of the Fabii were killed.

Only one boy, who had been too young to go with his relatives, remained of that great family of brave men. But this boy became, in time, the head of another Fabian family, which was to win as much honor at Rome as the one that had been destroyed.

The Victory of Cincinnatus

On the slopes of the mountains east of Rome, there lived a sturdy people called the Aequians. The Romans had to struggle with this people for many years after the driving out of their kings. As soon as one war with them was ended, another was sure to begin; and it was during one of these wars that a Roman named Cincinnatus made his name so famous that the Roman people loved to tell his story as long as their city lasted.

It happened once that a band of these Aequians marched into the Roman lands, and began to burn and plunder on every side. Now, a treaty of peace had been made between the Romans and the Aequians just the year before; so the Senate sent messengers to the intruders, to complain of their conduct.

When the messengers reached the camp of the Aequians, they found the chiefs of the band sitting in the shade of a great oak tree.

"Why do you come into our lands," the messengers asked, "making war in time of peace, and breaking the treaty which you have made with us? The Roman Senate demands that you make a return for what you have destroyed, and leave the country in peace."

The leader of the Aequians would hear no more than this.

"The Roman Senate!" he exclaimed in scorn. "Deliver to this oak tree whatever instructions you have brought from the Roman Senate, and in the meantime, I will attend to other matters!" And he turned away to leave them.

Then the Roman messengers also prepared to depart, for they saw that nothing could be done in the way of a peaceful settlement. But, as they turned to go, one of them cried:

"Let both this sacred oak and all the gods be witnesses that the treaty is broken by you; and so may they help our arms presently, when we shall seek to avenge ourselves."

Then they went away, and soon a Roman consul led an army against the Aequians. This consul was not a brave and ready man, as most of the Romans were, and the Aequians soon discovered that he was afraid to come to battle with them. Then they laid siege to his camp, and by throwing up earthworks around it, they had the army safe as if in a trap. Five of the Romans, however, succeeded in passing through the lines of the enemy, and hurried to the city with the news that the army was surrounded.

When the Romans heard this news, they were struck with dismay. The Senate was hurriedly called together, and they decided that a Dictator must be appointed; and Lucius Quintius, who was called "Cincinnatus, "on account of his crisp, curly hair, was the one whom they chose for that office.

Cincinnatus, though he was a good soldier and a patrician, was a poor man, and tilled his own little farm of four acres on the other side of the River Tiber. When the messengers of the Senate came, early in the morning, to announce to him that he had been appointed Dictator, they found him ploughing in the fields without his "toga," or gown. Before telling him their business, they bade him leave his work, and put on his toga, that he might listen with due respect to the commands of the Senate.

At this, Cincinnatus was astonished, and, asking frequently whether anything was the matter, he bade his wife bring his toga from his cottage. Then washing himself free from the dust and sweat of his work, he wrapped himself in his gown, as though he were in the Senate house, and listened to the messengers.

ROMAN PLOUGH.

They saluted him as Dictator, and, explaining the terror that ruled in the city, they bade him come to Rome and take the command. Cincinnatus obeyed, and went with them to the city, where he was met at the gates by his sons; and with twenty-four lictors marching on before him, he was escorted to his house in the city.

When the next day dawned, Cincinnatus went into the assembly of the people, and commanded all business to be stopped, and forbade any one from attending to his own affairs. Then he commanded that all who were of the age to act as soldiers should come together in the Field of Mars before sunset, with their arms, and with food for five days; and he ordered that each should bring with him twelve large wooden stakes. Those who were too old to act as soldiers he ordered to prepare the food for the other men, while these were busy cutting the stakes.

When the appointed time came, the men set out, with Cincinnatus marching before them, and bidding then hasten.

"The consul and his army have now been besieged three days," he said. "It is uncertain what each day and night may bring with it. You mist hasten, that we may reach the camp this very night, for often the gain of a moment will change defeat into victory."

And the men, to please their leader and encourage themselves, called to one another:

"Follow, soldiers! Hasten on!"

At midnight they reached the camp, where the Aequians were laying siege to the Romans. Cincinnatus first rode all around the place in order to discover, as well as he could in the darkness, how it was arranged. Then he drew his men silently in a long column around the camp, and directed that when the signal should be given, they should all raise a shout, and begin digging a trench and driving their stakes before it for defense.

When all was ready, the signal was given; and their shout rose through the silent night, terrifying the Aequians, and carrying joy to the hearts of the imprisoned consul and his army. These sprang to their feet, crying:

"That is the shout of our countrymen! Help is at hand! Let us also attack the enemy!"

Then the imprisoned Romans seized their arms, and rushed upon the Aequians just as they were turning to attack the soldiers of Cincinnatus. It was scarcely daylight before the Romans had conquered; for the Aequians were attacked from both sides at once, and were fighting unknown numbers in the darkness of the night.

After the battle was over, the enemies of the Romans were not destroyed, for Cincinnatus said:

"I want not the blood of the "Aequians. Let them depart in peace. But, before they go, we must have a confession that their nation is defeated and subdued. They must all pass under the yoke."

Then he ordered two spears to be driven into the earth, and a third one fastened across their tops; and under this all the Aequi were obliged to pass, without their arms, and with but one garment on their backs. This was meant to show to all the world that the Aequians were now as peaceful, and subdued as the patient oxen that ploughed the Roman fields with the yoke upon their necks.

Cincinnatus then prepared to return to Rome at once. He gave all the booty of the camp of the Aequians to his own soldiers, and punished the consul for his cowardice by giving him and his soldiers nothing.

When they reached the city, they found it full of joy at the rescue of its army. The Senate voted that Cincinnatus should enter Rome in triumph. So he marched into the city by the "Gate of Triumph," with the chiefs of the Aequians led before him, and the standards of the army carried around his car. The soldiers followed after, loaded down with their booty. Tables, covered with provisions, are said to have been laid out before the houses of all, and the soldiers were fed in abundance, as they followed the car of their general with shouts and rejoicing.

Cincinnatus, however, was not made over-proud by his great victory and by the honor that was shown him afterwards. On the sixteenth day after he had received the command, he laid down his power, and returned to his little farm and his ploughing; and he has been as much admired for this act as for his great success as a general.

At the close of the Revolutionary War, which made our country free from England, Washington and his companions did the same thing which you see Cincinnatus doing so many centuries before them. They gave up their places as generals and officers in the army, and went peacefully back to their farms and shops again. They thought of Cincinnatus at that time, and of how they were following his example; and they joined together and formed a society which they called the "Society of the Cincinnati," after this old Roman. This society, in its turn, gave its name to a city which bears it yet, the city of Cincinnati, in the state of Ohio. From this you can see how long a man's name may last in the world, if he is only strong and noble enough to do something which people will be glad to remember always.

The Laws of the Twelve Tables

As you read these tales of Tarquin and Horatius, Coriolanus, and Cincinnatus, you may think, perhaps, that the teaching of King Numa was wasted, and that the Romans after him did nothing but fight, and studied nothing but the art of winning battles. Almost all of the oldest stories that have come down to us tell us only of the defeat or victory of a Roman army, for that seemed the one important thing to the men who wrote the records. This, however, did not make up all the life of the Roman people. They were something else besides soldiers: they were citizens of Rome, and were members of family groups; and much might have been told us about their life in the city of which we shall always be ignorant.

The wisest men among the Romans at this time knew very little about the world, even as it was then; and they could never have imagined, if they had tried ever so hard, what the boys and girls, who would be living more than two thousand years after they were dead, would like to know about them. They only thought, as they wrote their records, that by the favor of the gods their city should last forever, and that, after many years, their own people might have forgotten when some city was taken, or how some army had been destroyed. So they wrote down these facts, and made them as lasting as they could; and they did not imagine that, after twenty centuries, people would rather know more of how they bought and sold in their market-places, and prayed in their temples, and behaved to one another in their homes, than so much about their little armies, and the towns that they captured, and the fields of their enemies that they laid waste.

The story of the Twelve Tables of the Law, however, is not about battles; and in it you will hear of no consul leading his soldiers out of the city to meet the enemy, and of no Dictator returning in triumph, after winning a victory for his country. It is not a tale of war, but of the beginning of written laws among the Romans, and it is a much nobler story for the Roman people than that of any of their battles.

When we Americans speak of the Law, we think of the laws which are printed in many books, and which are used by our judges and lawyers in trying cases in our courts. The Romans, at first, did not know any-thing of this kind of law. Such laws as they had were all unwritten, and were only known to the patricians who had handed them down by word of mouth from father to son, for many hundreds of years. The common people did not know them, and they had no way of finding out what was right for them to do, except by asking someone who had been taught the law from his early youth.

This might not have been so hard for the common people if all the patricians had learned the same law, and used their knowledge justly. But there were many different rules about the same thing, and the men who wished to be unfair could choose the law that would be most to their advantage, and of the least help to the people who appealed to them. By this unfair dealing, the people were often misled and treated very unjustly in their dealings with the patricians; but as they did not know the law, and had no way of learning it, they could do nothing to help themselves.

It was one of the tribunes of the people who at last tried to aid them by giving them the knowledge that was lacking to them. He proposed that all the laws of Rome should be gathered together and published, so that the people could understand what they must and must not do, and so avoid making mistakes because of ignorance. The patricians of Rome were opposed to this, for they did not wish the knowledge of the law to be given to the plebeians. They felt that this would be giving up even more of their rights over the people than they had surrendered when the people were brought back from the Sacred Mount and given their tribunes to protect them.

For this reason, the Senate refused to consent to the publishing of the law. But the people had now learned to be as firm in what they demanded as the Senate. Year after year, they elected only those men for tribunes who promised to help them in this struggle; and year after year, the tribunes continued to demand patiently and firmly the publication of the laws. It was ten years, however, before the Senate finally gave up the struggle, and allowed the people to have their own way.

Then they all agreed upon a curious thing. They changed their whole government for the time during which the laws were to be written; and instead of electing consuls and tribunes, as usual, they chose ten men who were both to govern the city and to get the laws ready for the people.

After working together for some time over their task, these men called the people together and said to them:

"We have written the laws as justly toward the highest and the lowest as it can be done by the consideration of ten men. The understanding and advice of a greater number might prove more successful. We bid you, therefore, go and read the laws that are placed before you, and consider them in your own minds in each particular, and talk together concerning them, in order that you may discover everything in which they are at fault. For we wish you to seem not to have accepted the laws proposed for you, but to have proposed them for yourselves."

Then the people did as they were bidden, and when all the faults of the laws seemed to have been corrected, they were approved by the assembly of the people; and they were published so that all men might see them.

But perhaps you will ask: "How could they be published, if there were no printing presses and books among the Romans, such as we have now?"

The Romans used a simple plan, but one that answered very well. They carved their laws upon twelve tablets of bronze, and then hung them in their market-place, or Forum, as they called it, on the sides of the stand where the Romans took their places when they wished to make a speech to the assembly of the people.

Here, in this public place, every man who could read was free to come and study them. As the Forum was the busiest place in Rome, where each citizen came at some time during almost every day of his life in the city, you will see that, after this, they lived with their laws constantly before their eyes. The boys, too, were obliged to learn the Twelve Tables by heart, as part of their education, and we may easily believe that it was not hard for a bright boy, who would be glad for an excuse to linger in the bustling Forum, to learn the whole contents of the tables before he was very old. Certainly, there was no excuse now for the Romans of any class not to know what was lawful and unlawful; and in this way a nobler thing had been done than if the Romans had conquered many cities, and sold their peoples into slavery.

These bronze tablets of the law have not come down to us through the centuries, as some of the Roman buildings have done. They were broken and destroyed long ago; but most of their contents have been preserved for us in the writings of the later Romans. Some of these laws seem very strange to us now, who are living with such different manners and customs; and this, perhaps, is most true of the laws that concern the family.

The father of the Roman family was like a ruler in a little kingdom all his own, in which no one, not even the consul, could interfere. He could do exactly as he pleased with his wife and his children and his servants. His children never grew up and became independent of their father, as you will be of your father when you become of age. The Roman father kept his power over his sons and daughters until the day of his death, and the laws even allowed him to sell his children as slaves, or to hire them out to work for his profit, whether they wished to do so or not.

But, besides the laws which seem to us so strange, there were many which seem much more reasonable. Among these was one which declared that if a tree overhung the ground of a neighbor, the neighbor might take the fruit that dropped on his side of the line. If anyone cut down the trees which belonged to another, he must pay twenty-five pounds of copper for each tree. If anyone turned cattle into a neighbor's grain field, or cut down his grain by night, he was to be severely punished.

As time went on, some of the laws of the twelve tables were changed among the Romans, and a great many others were added to them. Then it became impossible for anyone to learn all of the laws by heart, and at last the boys ceased to learn even the laws of the twelve tables. But the main principles of the Roman law remained the same under every change; the laws were only made clearer, and juster, and better fitted to the changes in the world to which they were to be applied. So the Roman law survived when almost everything else of the Roman rule had passed away, and it is the foundation of the law of many nations of the world to this day.

How Camillus Captured Veii

About twenty miles north of Rome was a large and powerful city called Veii, with which the Romans were often at war. It was in a struggle with this city that the Fabii had been destroyed; and after that many other wars followed, until, about a hundred years after the kings were driven from Rome, a struggle began in which the Romans at last conquered their old enemy.

This was the fourteenth war between Rome and Veii. When the Romans had laid siege to the town for eight long years, and it seemed as though they would never be able to conquer it, the Senate and the people all became discouraged. Then a strange thing happened to make them more disturbed.

About as far south of Rome as Veii was north of it, was a lake called the Alban Lake, which was completely surrounded by hills, and had no inlet or outlet for its waters. News now came to Rome that the water of this lake had suddenly begun to rise higher and higher, without any heavy rains, or any other cause that could be discovered. The Romans, therefore, imagined that this was a miracle which was performed by the gods; and to find out the meaning of it, they sent messengers to the Oracle of the god Apollo, at Delphi. But before these messengers had returned, the Romans received an explanation of the matter from the Veientians themselves.

As often happens in long sieges, the soldiers of the two armies had got in the habit of calling back and forth at one another. One day, as they were doing this, an old man stood upon the walls of Veii and declared, like one uttering a prophecy, that "until the waters should be discharged from the Alban Lake, the Romans should never become the masters of Veii."

One of the Roman soldiers caught at this saying eagerly, thinking that perhaps it showed a way for them to become at last victorious. He persuaded the old man to come out from the walls, and talk with him in the open ground before the Roman c& then, when they were alone, he seized him boldly about the waist, and carried him by main force into the camp. From there he was taken to the Senate at Rome; and here he was ordered to repeat the prophecy which he had spoken upon the walls of his city. He replied:

"The gods were angry with the Veientian people, that day, when they bade me show the way to ruin my country, from the walls of Veii. But, since it seemed to them well for me to speak it, it is better said than unsaid. It is written in the books of the fates that whenever the Alban water shall rise to a great height, and the Romans shall discharge it in the proper manner, victory will be granted to them. Until that is done, the gods will not desert the walls of Veii."

When the Romans found that the answer of the Oracle of Apollo agreed with the statement of the old man, they set eagerly to work to do what was required of them,

While some remained with the army to watch about the walls of Veii, others worked at the Alban Lake. There they cut a great tunnel through the rock of the hills, to make a passage for the imprisoned waters; and the remains of that tunnel can be seen to this day. Then ditches were dug through the country, and the water of the lake was let out upon the fields. This was in obedience to the commands of the Oracle, and by doing this the Romans believed that they prepared the way for the destruction of Veii.

After all this was done, a Roman named Camillus was appointed Dictator, to complete the capture of the city. When he reached the place he withdrew the Romans into their camp, and kept them closely there, in order that there might be no chance for speech with the enemy. Then he began a tunnel which was to lead from the camp, under the walls of the city, and into the very citadel of the town. Day and night his soldiers worked at this, each in his turn, so that no one should become exhausted by the hard labor. At last the work was all completed, except breaking through the last thin wall of earth, which would admit them into the city.

The Veientians still laughed and shouted from their walls at the silent Romans, all unconscious that the Alban Lake had disappeared into the earth, and that their enemies were ready to pour into the city from their tunnel. But Camillus was certain of his victory, and having given orders for the soldiers to take their arms, he went forth to beg the help and favor of the gods.

"Under thy guidance, O Apollo," he prayed, "I proceed to destroy the city of Veii, and I vow to thee a tenth part of the spoil."

Then some of the Romans attacked the walls. As the Veientians rushed to their defense, others of the Romans came out of the tunnel in the city and attacked them from behind. The Veientians were taken by surprise, and the Romans who were in the city soon succeeded in opening the gates of the town for their companions. In this way, the Romans soon won a complete victory. When the battle was over, the people of Veii were made slaves, and the town was stripped of all its treasures by the soldiers who had conquered it.

Then the Romans prepared to remove the gods also from the captured city. A band of young men was chosen, and, with their bodies freshly washed in pure water, and clad in white garments, they took their way in a solemn procession to the temple of the great Juno. She was the especial god of the Veientians, and they entered her temple with fear and awe. When they stood before the image of the goddess, one of the company asked:

"O Juno, art thou willing to go to Rome?"

The Romans believed that they saw the goddess bow her beautiful head in assent; and they all shouted with joy at this favorable response. Then they took up the statue of the goddess and carried her to Rome; and the statue seemed light and easy to move, as though the goddess went with them willingly and of her own accord.

For several years after this, the city of Veii was left standing with empty houses and temples, uncared for either by the gods or men. Some of the old neighbors of the Veientians, however, tried to make a stand against the Romans, even though Veii itself had fallen. So Camillus was sent against one of these cities, to lay siege to it, as he had done to Veii.

JUNO.

This place was also a strong city, and the people seemed likely to defend themselves as long and as bravely as the Veientians had done. But, one day, the war suddenly ceased, and peace was made, as a result of the just dealing of Camillus with the people of the besieged city.

Several of the noblest families of the city had placed their boys in the charge of a schoolmaster, who was expected not only to teach them, but to care for them during their playtime also. Before the war began, this man had been in the habit of taking his boys beyond the city walls for play and exercise, and even when the city had been besieged he continued this custom.

One day, when they had passed through the gates as usual for their romp in the open field, and while the boys were all absorbed in their rough play, their teacher led them little by little up to the Roman lines, and to the tent of Camillus. Then, as he came before the Roman general, he said:

"Camillus, these are the children of the men who are highest in rank in the city. With them I deliver to you the city itself, for their rulers will be willing to sacrifice everything to regain their children; and I know that you will reward me for my deed."

When Camillus heard these words, he cried out:

"Wicked as thou art, thou hast not come with thy offering to a commander or a people like thyself. We do not carry arms against defenseless children, but against armed men."

Then he ordered the man's arms to be tied behind his back; and he put rods in the boys' hands, and told them to flog their treacherous master back to the city; where he was punished as he well deserved to be.

When the people of the city received their children again from Camillus, their feeling toward the Romans changed. Before this time, they had preferred the fate of the Veientians to making peace with the Romans, but now the virtue of Camillus filled them with admiration. They sent messengers to the Roman Senate, therefore, and surrendered themselves without further struggle, saying:

"Fathers, we are overcome by your good faith, and we give the victory to you of our own free will. We believe that we shall live more happily under your rule than we do now under our own laws; so send men to receive our arms, and our city."

By two such victories as these, and many smaller ones, Camillus became one of the greatest of the Romans. The citizens were grateful to him for his services to the city, and they were certain that no one could lead the Roman armies so well as he.

But Camillus was a proud man, and wished to rule the city as he did his army. Among other things, he was determined that the tenth part of the spoil of Veii should be given to Apollo, as he had promised before the battle, and this the people did not wish to do. But he forced it from them; and then they asked him, in return, what right he had to the great bronze doors which he had brought from the conquered city, and placed before his own house.

So Camillus and the people fell to quarreling, and, after a time, Camillus was forced to leave Rome. In rage and in sorrow, he went to find his home in another place; but it was harder for him to bear than if he had lost his life in battle, for to be obliged to live in exile was worse than death to a Roman.

The Coming of the Gauls

In all the wars which the Romans had fought up to this time, they had been fighting with people who were near neighbors to them, and who were like themselves in speech, and manners, and ways of fighting. But six years after the capture of veil, the Romans were called upon to meet a new race in battle, whose like they had never seen before, and at whose hands they met a terrible defeat.

North of the peninsula of Italy, you will remember, and shutting it off from the rest of Europe, lies the great snowy chain of the Alps. These mountains are higher and more difficult to cross than any of the mountains of our own country; but there are now many well-made wagon roads through the Alps, and even some railroads. In the early days of Rome, however, there were no such roads, and the great snow-covered ridges made a barrier which people rarely thought of crossing. The Romans knew nothing of the people who lived on the other side of the Alps, and would, perhaps, never have thought for many centuries longer, of climbing through their rough passes to find out what lay beyond them.

But the peoples who lived north of these mountains were very different from the Italians, and were not held in one place by the love of their lands and homes. They had villages and towns of their own; but these were poor and ill-made, compared to the Italian cities, and the people were always ready to leave them to follow their chiefs into other countries to gain new possessions. The Alps, too, are easier to climb from the north than from the south, for the slope on the northern side is much more gradual. So, some of these peoples found their way over into Italy while the Romans were still thinking only of their own city, and their little neighborhood wars. These tribes from the north had many different names among themselves, but the Italians usually called them by the name of "Gauls."

GALLIC SOLDIER

The Gauls were very different in appearance from any people that the Italians had ever seen. The Romans and the other Italians were small people compared with the Gauls, and had black hair and eyes, and dark skins browned by the hot suns of the long Italian summers. The Gauls were from the north, where the milder sunlight and the cooler summers had left their hair and skins fair and their eyes blue. This was a continual wonder to the darker Italians; and, when we add that the Gauls were larger and heavier in body than the Italians, you will not be surprised to find that the Romans spoke with awe of the blue-eyed giants, for many years after the Gauls had all disappeared from the neighborhood of Rome.

The dress of the Gauls was also strange to the Romans. They wore garments checked and striped in many colors, which remind us of the bright tartans in which the Highlanders of Scotland clothed themselves for centuries, and of which they make some use even to this day. Indeed, the Highlanders are, perhaps, the most closely related to these ancient Gauls of any people now in the world, and only a few hundred years ago, they were using war-horns and swords in their battles very much like the ones that the Romans tell us the Gauls brought with them into Italy.

The Gauls differed as much from the Romans in their manner of fighting as they did in their appearance. The Romans, during their long experience in warfare, had learned to draw up their soldiers in a regular form, with the cavalry and the infantry in fixed positions, and they always went into battle in an orderly manner. The Gauls never dreamed of anything like order in their fighting. Each man, with his broad, unpointed sword, and long shield, took his place in the great mass of his fellow soldiers; and, when the signal for battle came, they all rushed furiously at the enemy. Those who were behind pushed on those in front, if they showed signs of giving way, and their savage yells and the din of their horns terrified the enemy as much as the blows from their heavy swords.

Some tribes of the Gauls had been settled in the northern part of Italy for a long time before the Romans heard anything about them. You must understand by this time that the Romans lived in a much smaller world than ours is to-day. In a very short time, we now hear of almost everything that happens on the earth,—at least of everything within the reach of the railroads and the telegraph. But, in those days, the Romans had no way of getting word even from the different parts of Italy.

So it was only when a band of the Gauls, leaving their families behind them, with their relatives who had settled in the valley of the Po, pushed down farther to the south, and crossed the Apennines, that they came to the knowledge of the Romans.

These Gauls were terrible destroyers; and, as they went, they left a broad path behind them, in which there were only ruined towns, and fields bare of any sign of life. City after city fell into their hands; and when they came to the Tuscan town of Clusium, where Lars Porsena had ruled a century before, messengers were sent to Rome to beg for help against this new enemy.

At first, Rome only replied to this request by sending three ambassadors to treat with the Gauls. When these ambassadors and the men of Clusium met the chiefs of the Gauls, they asked them why they had come in this manner into the country of another people.

"We want land for those of us who have none," replied the Gauls, "and the men of Clusium have more than they can use. Give us what we ask, and we will not make war upon you."

Then the Romans cried out, thinking of their own lands, which might be asked for next:

"What right have you to ask for land from the men of Clusium, and threaten war if they refuse it?"

"We carry our right in our swords," the Gauls replied. "All things belong to the, brave. Do you stand by, O Romans, and see us decide this matter with our arms, and then carry home the story of how much the Gauls excel all other peoples in bravery."

The people of Clusium could not endure this haughty speech. They refused the demand of the Gauls, and a battle almost immediately began. The Roman ambassadors, too, were angry, and this caused them to forget the law of nations, which does not allow ambassadors to fight. They entered the battle, side by side with the soldiers of Clusium, and one of the three killed a chieftain of the Gauls in the sight of both the armies.

Then the Gauls were much enraged. With a sudden impulse, they gave up their attack on Clusium, and sent messengers to Rome to demand that the offenders should be given up to them for punishment; and when this was refused, they marched straight upon that city.

The Romans heard of their coming, and prepared to meet them, but not so carefully as they would have done if the Gauls had been the people of some neighboring city. They did not seem to think it worthwhile to appoint a Dictator, as they had so often done when other dangers threatened them. They did not realize that they would have to meet an enemy more difficult to face than any they had ever fought before. Perhaps they even despised the Gauls for their savage ways, and their clumsy weapons, of which they must have heard; and thought that it would not be so difficult to defeat men who fought with their heads unprotected by helmets. But, if the Romans despised the Gauls before they met them, they learned from them one great lesson,—that it is never safe to scorn an enemy, until you have learned what he can do.

When the Gauls had come as near as the eleventh milestone from the city, the Romans went out to meet them with a large army. The battle took place on the banks of a little stream which flows into the river Tiber. There the Romans drew up their army in a long line, as they were in the habit of doing when they met their Italian enemies. But this was not the way in which to meet the Gauls.

As you know, the Gauls had but one way in which to fight, and that was to rush blindly at their enemy, careless whether they met death or not. It was in this way that they charged at the Roman line. With their horns blowing and their shouts rising in a fearful roar, they dashed in a great mass at the Roman army, and went through the line of brave soldiers with a rush that could not be resisted. The Romans were divided into two parts, as if a wedge had been driven through their lines; and, terrified at the savage attack and their sudden defeat, they fled blindly, as they had so often caused their own enemies to flee.

The greater part of the Roman army was cut off from Rome by the force of the Gauls, and the men were obliged to throw themselves into the Tiber, and swim to the other shore, where they took refuge behind the walls of the deserted city of Veii. The smaller part retreated in a panic to Rome; and, rushing through the city, without stopping even to close the gates, the defeated soldiers made their way into the citadel on the Capitol, which was the strongest hill of Rome.

The Gauls did not pursue them. They were amazed at their sudden success, and they hesitated to go on, for fear lest there might be some trap prepared for them. They turned back, to gather up the arms of the Roman dead; and then they spent their time in dividing the spoil and feasting. As a result of this, it was not until the third day after the battle, in the hot days of July, three hundred and ninety years before Christ was born, that the army of the Gauls appeared before the gates of Rome.

The Gauls in Rome

Meanwhile, all was terror and dismay in Rome. Only a handful of men had returned out of the army that had marched out on the day of the battle. But the Romans had not only to sorrow for the dead; they had also to fear for the living; for the men who remained in Rome were too few to defend the wide extent of the city walls against the attack of these fierce barbarians.

So, without making any attempt to defend the wall, the Romans determined to make their stand on the Capitol. This was a rocky hill, in the midst of the city, and it was well fitted for defense. Its sides were so steep, except on the one side up which the road wound, that it seemed as though no enemy could climb them. Upon it was a well, to give them water; and there, too, were the temples of the gods, to protect and encourage the Romans in their defense.

While the Gauls gathered their spoil and feasted, the Romans hastened to bring provisions to this place and prepare it to withstand a siege. Not all of the people, however, could find refuge here. No one was wanted on the Capitol who could not do his share in its defense; the women and the children, and the people untrained to arms, would only have taken the food from the mouths of those who labored to save the most sacred part of the city.

So, while the Capitol was being made ready, great numbers of the people went out of the city, and sought refuge in the hills on the other side of the Tiber, and in the neighboring cities. With them went the Vestal Virgins, carrying the sacred fire from the altar, and the vessels used in the worship of the gods. And the Romans loved to tell, in later days, how a poor plebeian, who was flying with his goods and family, met the Vestals as they were toiling along the road on foot; and, seeing their weariness, he bade his wife and children get down from his cart, that he might take up the holy maidens and carry them to a place of safety.

There were some of the Romans, however, who could not fight, and yet who would not leave the city. These were the old patricians, who were too feeble to bear arms and be useful in the citadel, but who could not bear the thought of leaving their homes and wandering in exile, while the city they loved was laid in ashes by the barbarous Gauls. They determined, therefore, to make a sacrifice of themselves to the gods for the good of their country. They were men who in their earlier years had been consuls, or had filled other high offices in the city, Now they put on their robes of state, and seated themselves in their ivory chairs in the Forum, and awaited calmly the coming of the enemy.

When, at last, the Gauls entered the city, they passed wonderingly from street to street through the empty town, seeking the enemy who awaited them only in the citadel above. When they came to the Forum, they were struck with amazement at the sight of so many noble-appearing old men, sitting there in perfect order and silence. On their part, the old men neither rose at their coming, nor so much as turned their eyes towards them, but sat gazing at one another quietly, and showing no sign of fear.

For a while, the Gauls stood wondering at the strange sight, and did not approach or touch the Romans, for they seemed more like an assembly of the gods than men. But, at last, a Gaul who was bolder than the rest drew near to one of the old men, and, putting forth his hand, he gently stroked his long, white beard. Perhaps he intended no harm; the old Roman, however, took this for an insult, and, raising the long staff which he carried in his hand, he struck the Gaul a heavy blow with this over the head.

Then the anger of the Gauls flamed up, and the old men were put to death; but this they had expected when they prepared themselves as a sacrifice to the gods. The houses of the city were then broken into by the Gauls, and robbed of the goods that had been left in them. At last, fire was set to the city, and soon its streets and buildings were a mere mass of smoldering ashes.

But even then, the Gauls could not take the Capitol. The great rock was steep and well-defended, and they soon found that they could not force their way to the top. They were obliged to settle down in the ruined city and besiege the Romans. This, however, was not the kind of fighting they were used to; they always found it unpleasant to sit still before an enemy and try to starve him into surrender. Indeed, in this case, there was some danger that they might starve themselves; for they soon used up all the provisions that had been left in the town, and then, from day to-day, they had to send out parts of their army to gather in food from the surrounding country.

One of these parties wandered, on one such trip, as far as the town where Camillus was then living, in exile from his native city. Though he had been badly treated by the Romans, Camillus was grieved at the misfortunes that had come upon his city. When the Gauls came into his neighborhood, instead of planning how to escape them, he tried rather to punish them for what they had done to Rome; and, taking the young men of the city, Camillus fell upon the camp of the Gauls by night, and destroyed them entirely.

When the news of this act reached those Romans who had taken refuge in Veii, they began to recover from their terror, and to plan for the rescue of Rome. But first they must have a leader; and where, they asked, could they find a better one than Camillus, who had captured Veii for them, and had just shown them how to overcome the Gauls?

Before Camillus could become their general, however, he had to be recalled from exile, and appointed to be their leader by the Senate. What was left of the Senate was besieged on the Capitol at Rome; so the men at Veii sent a youth to that place with messages to the Senate, asking that they would recall Camillus and appoint him to command them.

This messenger boldly traveled the greater part of the way to Rome by day, but he waited until night to draw near to the city. Then he passed the river by swimming, with pieces of cork under his garments to hold him up, and approached the Capitol. Here, at a place which the Gauls had left unguarded, he managed to scramble tip its rocky side, and reach the top in safety. Then he delivered his message to the Senate, and they granted his request gladly, and named Camillus, Dictator. After that the youth returned as he had come, bearing his message back to Camillus and to the men at Veii.

The next day some of the Gauls at Rome found the marks of hands and feet where the messenger had climbed the side of the Capitol. Then they said to one another:

"Where it is easy for one man to get up, it will not be hard for many, one after another."

So the next night they made the attempt. Sending an unarmed man ahead to try the way, they followed in his steps, passing their weapons from one to another, and drawing each other up over the steep places. In this way, they reached the top, and reached it unnoticed by the Romans. The sentinels were fast asleep, and even the dogs were quiet and gave no alarm.

But the sacred geese that were kept near the temple of Juno were more watchful. As the enemy approached their enclosure, they cackled loudly and flapped their wings, and this awoke an officer named Marcus Manlius, who was sleeping nearby. At once, Manlius snatched up his arms, and, shouting to awake his comrades, he rushed to the spot where the first Gauls were just climbing over the wall of the citadel. One of them he slew with his sword, and another, at the same time, he struck full in the face with his shield, and hurled him headlong from the rock; and this man, as he fell, threw down others who were below him. And now Manlius's companions had joined him, and spears and stones fell thick and fast upon the climbing enemy; and soon the last of the attacking party was dashed to ruin at the foot of the rock, and the citadel was saved.

THE CAPITOL AT ROME.

After this, the siege continued for many months, and it bore heavily on the Gauls and the Romans alike. Both sides reached the limit of their endurance at last. It was the time of the year which was most unhealthy in Rome—the late summer and autumn and many of the Gauls fell sick and died, for they were used to a colder and more healthy climate.

The Romans were in a still worse condition, for their food was giving out. Even when Marcus Manlius had saved the Capitol, the Romans could do no kinder thing for him in return than to give him each half a pound of corn and half a pint of wine, taking this from the nourishment of their own bodies that he might be rewarded.. Now there was not even this to give, and they had looked long and vainly for Camillus and the promised help from Veii. They were wearied with constant watching; and their bodies, weakened by hunger, could scarcely bear the weight of their arms.

So, at last, when the Gauls offered to break up the siege, and leave Rome in return for a thousand pounds of gold, the Romans were ready to consent. Then they brought out the gold to the Gauls for settlement; but, as the Gauls weighed it in the scales, the Romans charged them with balancing the scales unfairly. The only answer of the Gallic chief to this charge was to unbuckle his heavy sword from his waist, and throw it

belt, scabbard, and all—into the scale with the weights; and when the Romans indignantly asked the meaning of this, he calmly replied:

"What should it mean but woe to the conquered?"

The Romans could do nothing but add the gold to make up the extra weight. They were conquered, indeed.

Rebuilding the City

The stories go on to tell us that, before the Gauls got well away from Rome, Camillus arrived at last and defeated them, and took back the gold which had been given them as a ransom. It is likely however, that this is only what the Romans wished could have happened, and not what really took place.

But, whether the Roman gold went with the Gauls or not, a very much heavier trouble had fallen upon the city, for the town was in ashes, and the people were scattered far and wide. It had taken hundreds of years to build Rome, and but a few months to destroy it. How the men and women must have mourned as they came back from their hiding-places and saw only heaps of stone and ashes where they had left their streets and homes! Only the Capitol lifted its head in the midst of the blackened ruins, bearing its buildings and temples unharmed.

Those who were in the greatest despair, as they gazed at the ruined town, were the common people. They had lost all of the little which they had possessed; and, as they looked at the ruins around the Capitol, they shrank from the task that they saw before them. Rome must be begun anew; and what toil it meant for them only to clear the ground and make ready for the work of building! And, after that was done, the greatest work would yet remain, the gathering of the material and the building of the houses.

Many of the people had returned from Veii, where they had been living in the well-built houses of that city, and they thought of them with regret.

"Why should we remain here, O Romans," cried the leaders of the people, "and toil at this great work? A home awaits us in Veii, ready built and with most fertile fields around it. That city was conquered by us from our enemies; let us make use of it now in our great need."

Then the people, looking at the ruins about them, cried:

"Yes, let us go! Let us begin anew in Veii!"

But they did not go. When Camillus heard of the plans of the people, he went to them, with the whole Senate following after him, and he spoke to them with these words:

"What is this that you think of doing, O Romans? Why have we struggled to recover our city from the Gauls, if we ourselves desert it as soon as it is recovered? Shall we now leave the Capitol, which the Romans and the gods still held, while the Gauls lay camped in the city? Shall even the citadel be deserted, now that the Gauls are fled and the Romans victorious? We possess a city founded by the gods; not a spot is there in it that is not full of them. Will you forsake them all by leaving Rome? Shall the Virgins forsake thee, O Vesta, and the priests of Rome become Veientians? Has our native soil so slight a hold on us, or this earth which we call mother? Does our love of country lie merely in the surface, and in the timber of our houses? For my part, I will confess to you, that, while I have been absent from my city, whenever it came into my thoughts, all these occurred to me, the hills, the plains, the Tiber, the face of the country, so familiar to my eyes, and this sky, under which I have been born and educated. May all these now, by your love of them, induce you to remain, rather than that they should cause you grief and regret after having left them. Not without good reason did gods and men choose this place for founding a city, these most healthful hills, and this large river bearing the fruits of the inland country to us, and ours to the sea, this place in the center of Italy. The very size of our city before it was destroyed is a proof of its good situation. Where is the wisdom of your giving this up, now that you have proved it, to make trial of another city into which good fortune may not follow you? Here is the Capitol, which it was foretold should become the chief seat of empire. Here is the fire of Vesta. Here are the shields of Mars, let down from heaven. Here are all the gods, who will be favorable to you if you stay."

In spite of the speech of Camillus, however, the people still hesitated, and the Senators even could not quite decide what it would be best for them to do. But, as the Senate was still discussing the matter, an officer marched through the Forum with his soldiers, and called out:

"Standard-bearer, fix your standard. Let us halt here."

His words reached the ears of the Senators as they sat, in anxious quiet, in the Senate-house nearby. It seemed to them like a message from the gods, commanding them to remain at Rome. They came out of the Senate-house, therefore, exclaiming that "they accepted the omen"; and the common people, when they were told of the occurrence, allowed themselves to be persuaded to remain.

STANDARD-BEARER.

Then the Senate ordered that Veii should be destroyed, so that the people should never again be tempted to leave Rome; and the materials were brought from Veii to Rome, and used in building the city anew. The Senate also gave the people liberty to take wood and stone for building free of charge, and to build their houses wherever they could find a place. So, within a year, the city was rebuilt, after a fashion; but the houses at first were poor and mean, and the work was done so hurriedly that no attention was paid even to the course of the streets. This made the streets of the new Rome very narrow and crooked, as they wound about among the buildings; and even the sewers, which before the Gauls came had followed the line of the streets, were now built over with private houses.

The Romans were not allowed to rebuild their city in peace, however. All the peoples around them began to take advantage of their weakness to prevent them from growing strong and powerful once more. As we read the old stories, we wonder whether the Romans would have ever succeeded in restoring their city if it had not been for Camillus. He led them against their enemies many times, and always with success; and often he gained the victory for them more by the enemy's fear of him than by the size of his armies or the strength of their arms.

At last, Camillus had grown to be an old man of eighty years, and when a call to battle came he feared that he was no longer fit to lead the Romans to victory. The citizens, however, would not allow him to retire from the command; for his mind was still clear and strong, and they thought that that was worth more than youth and strength of body.

So Camillus went forth from Rome, with another man Lucius Furius—for a companion in command; and he led his men cautiously to the seat of the war. The enemy had more men than Camillus had, and were awaiting him in a city which had belonged to the Romans before the coining of the Gauls. When they saw the Romans approaching, they came out and offered to give battle immediately; for they thought that, by doing this, they would give Camillus less chance to plan his battle skillfully. But Camillus was too wise in the art of war to be caught in any such way, and he prepared to keep his men from battle until he saw a good chance for victory.

This made the enemy all the more eager, and they came close to the Roman camp and began digging trenches and preparing for battle as though daring them to fight. This was hard for the Roman soldiers to bear, even though they were so few in number compared with the enemy. In their anger, they began to think that Camillus was holding them back more because of the weakness and fears of age, than from carefulness for their safety and for the victory. The other general, the young Furius, was of this opinion also, and did not hesitate to say what he thought among the soldiers.

"Wars are the business of young men," he said, "and it ought to be so, for, in the best condition of the body, the mind is strongest also. Why should Camillus now hold his men quiet in the trenches when formerly he used to carry camps and cities at the first onset? What increase does he expect to his own strength; what falling off does he hope for in the enemy? Camillus has had a goodly share of years, as well as of glory. Shall we now allow the strength of the state to suffer because his body sinks into old age?"

When the soldiers, excited by these words, demanded battle, Furius went to Camillus, and said:

"Camillus, we cannot withstand the violence of our soldiers, and the enemy insults us in a way not to be endured. Do you, who are but one man, yield to all, and allow us to do as we wish, that the victory may be ours the sooner."

Then the old Camillus replied:

"Whatever wars have been fought, up to this day, under my single care, have not proved either my judgment or my good fortune to be wanting. But now I have a companion in my office of general, who is my equal in command and my superior in the vigor of youth. I have been accustomed to rule the violence of my army, not to be ruled by it. But with my companion's power I cannot interfere. You may do Lucius Furius, that which you think best, for the interest of Rome. I beg only one thing, and that is, that, in consideration of my years, I may not be placed in the front rank. Whatever duties of war an old man may discharge, in these I shall not be found wanting. And I pray the immortal gods that no misfortune may come upon the Romans to prove that my plan would have been the better one."

Then the Romans were drawn up in battle order and advanced to the attack, leaving Camillus, as he had desired, with some reserve troops in the camp. The old general first posted strong guards about the camp, and then stood anxiously watching the advance of the Romans.

As he had feared, he did not see them gain a victory. At first, the enemy seemed to give way, and the Romans followed eagerly. But when the retreating soldiers had drawn them on to where the ground was difficult, they suddenly faced about, and others of their men joined them, and they attacked the Romans at a disadvantage. It was not long before Camillus, from the high ground from which he watched the battle, saw the Roman line break and the soldiers turn and fly toward his camp.

Then Camillus commanded his men to lift him on his horse, and, calling to his troops, he led them out against the enemy. When he met the Romans rushing blindly back, he cried:

"Is this the battle that you called for so eagerly, soldiers? Why turn your faces toward the camp? Not a man of you shall my camp receive, except as victor! Having followed another leader, now follow Camillus, and conquer as you have done before, when I lead."

At this the soldiers halted, stopped at first by shame. Then when they saw their old general, whom they had followed to so many victories, go forward against the enemy in the front rank, they turned and joined him, with shouts and renewed courage. And once more Camillus led them on to victory.

You would think that, after this battle, Camillus would be angry with Lucius Furius. But this was not the case. He seemed to wish to forget that it was the bad judgment of Furius that had brought on the battle, and to remember only that he had fought with the greatest bravery through it all.

"This day," said Camillus, "will be a lesson to him not to prefer his own plans to better ones."

So, when Camillus was appointed general for a new war soon after this, he chose this same Lucius Furius as his companion in command; and they went out together, once more, in friendliness and good fellowship.

Do you remember when, in his earlier days, Camillus could not remain at Rome because he could not live without quarreling with his fellow-citizens? Now you see him forgiving* a real injury, and showing only kindness to the man who had scorned him in his old age. Camillus had learned something better, during his long life, than how to lead his soldiers to victory; for he knew how, at the last, to return good for evil, and to make a friend of one who might have been his enemy.

Camillus lived for some years longer, and when he died the people felt as though they had lost a second Romulus; for he had almost founded their city a second time, by persuading them to remain in it after the retreat of the Gauls, and by protecting them from their enemies while they rebuilt their dwellings. The wisdom of his desire to remain at Rome was seen even before his death, for the city had already sprung up in a vigorous new growth; and we now believe, as Camillus did then, that nowhere else could Rome have grown to be the great city which it finally became.

The New Rome

It is not an unusual thing for a city to recover after such a misfortune as the sack of Rome, and become greater than before. In our own country such a thing has happened. Your father, perhaps, remembers when the city of Chicago was burned in 1871, and all the country was called upon to send food and clothing to the thousands of people who had lost their homes and all they possessed. But now Chicago is the second city in size in the United States, and all because of ceaseless labor and endeavor since that time. Rome did not recover from her misfortune so rapidly as Chicago did from hers, for she did not receive such generous help from the country around her. You have seen that the neighbors of Rome would have preferred to injure, rather than to aid, the people of the destroyed city. But, thanks to the wisdom and skill of Camillus, and the determination of her people, Rome at length recovered from her misfortune, and became a powerful city once more.

In one way their troubles were a good thing for the Romans. The patricians found it so important, for their own good, that the common people should stay at Rome and help in the work of rebuilding the city that they became willing to give up many of the rights which, before this, they had kept to themselves. It was not many years after the new Rome had been built that a man from the plebeians was elected consul, along with a man of noble birth. This was a great victory for the common people, and it was soon followed up by others. Before a century had passed, from the burning of the city, the plebeians were allowed to hold any office to which a patrician could be elected, and the old distinctions between the classes were entirely removed.

In spite of the fact that Camillus had called their hills "most healthful," Rome was troubled for many years after the rebuilding of the city with much illness among the people. You will remember that the Gauls sickened quickly in Rome; and now, even the citizens themselves, who were used to the climate, sickened and died in great numbers. This indeed was the cause of the death of Camillus himself, after all his long years of fighting on Roman battlefields; and sometimes there was so much sickness among the people that the armies could not be sent out against their enemies as usual.

This trouble was caused partly by a lack of good water in the city. The well-water about Rome, and also the water of the Tiber, was impure; and the cisterns did not furnish enough for the use of the people. The Romans must have felt this need very keenly, for, while they were fighting battles on every side, they set themselves to work to bring in a good supply of water from outside the city, as is now done in all our large towns. Eight miles out from Rome there were hills where pure water could be found in plenty, and they brought this into the city in a passage which they built for it under ground.

Such a passage for water they called an "aqueduct, "and we still use the same word ourselves, having borrowed it from the Romans. The reason that they did not, at first, build their aqueducts above the surface of the ground was that they feared lest, at some time, their enemies might succeed in turning the stream aside, and thus leave the city without water. But as Rome conquered her enemies about her, and the city grew larger and needed a greater supply of water, many new aqueducts were built, and these were built above ground. Even to this day, you can see, near Rome, the remains of some of the great stone troughs sometimes high up in the air on stone arches—in which water was brought from miles away to the city of Rome.

RUINS OF A ROMAN AQUEDUCT.

At this time, also, the Romans began a work which was as great as the building of their aqueducts. This was the making of good roads.

As soon as the Romans began to send out armies to fight with the neighboring cities, they must have seen the need of well-built roads that could be used through all the seasons of the year, and in wet and dry weather alike. Such roads became still more necessary now that the Romans had come to rule lands and cities lying many miles from Rome. So while the Romans were bringing good water into Rome, they began their first long road; and the Iran who led them in building their aqueduct was also foremost in making this road. His name was Appius Claudius, and he was quite as great a man as any of the Roman generals that we are told so much about. Because the road was built under his direction, the Romans named it the "Appian Way," after him, and even to-day what remains of this road is still called by this name.

From the beginning, the Romans built their roads with the greatest care. First, after they had removed the earth to the proper depth, they placed a layer of large flat stones on the ground. Then a layer, nine inches thick, of smaller stones, was laid upon these, and cemented together with lime. Next came a layer, about six inches thick, of still smaller stones, and this too was bound together with cement. And, at last, on top of all, blocks of very hard stone were laid, and fitted closely together, so as to make a perfectly smooth surface on which to drive or walk.

Is it any wonder that roads built with such care have lasted for two thousand years?

A ROMAN ROAD.

This building of roads and bringing of water into the city was not a small thing for the Romans to do, as perhaps it may seem now, when well-paved streets and waterworks are to be found in almost every large city. The Romans did this when such things were only beginning to be thought of by men, and they did it so well that they set an example which the whole world has been glad to follow ever since. They saw what they needed, then they thought out the best way to meet their wants, and then, last of all, they were willing to work hard and long in order to do well whatever they undertook. It is this as much as anything else which made the Romans become one of the greatest peoples that the world has ever seen. They thought well and worked hard, whether it was in fighting battles or building roads, and in the end this made them the masters of the world.

The Romans not only thought things out for themselves, however; they were always ready to learn from others as well. Whatever they saw that seemed good to them, they borrowed and made part of themselves. They learned from the Etruscans a great deal of that knowledge of building which they used in constructing their temples and aqueducts. When, for the first time, they went to war with an enemy beyond the sea, the Romans learned how to build war-vessels from a ship of the enemy which was wrecked on their shores. When the Romans found that the short, straight sword, which the people of Spain used, was better than their own, they armed their soldiers with that. And when they found that the Greeks were better poets and artists than they were, the Romans took them to be their teachers in poetry and in art.

But, besides the power of the Romans to think, to work, and to learn from others, there was something else that made their city strong. This was the love and devotion of her people. The best of the Romans were willing to die for her, and did die for her, not only by going into battle and laying down their lives there, but in other ways as well.

Old writers tell us that once a great chasm, or hole, many feet deep, suddenly opened in the Forum at Rome. This must have been caused by an earthquake, such as those which often occur even now in Italy, and sometimes in our own land. The Romans were greatly distressed by this chasm, and they tried to fill it by throwing earth into it. But, in spite of all their efforts, the opening would not be closed. Then they could only look upon the chasm as a work of the gods, and they asked the priests the meaning of it, and how it might be filled. The priests replied:

"Search out what is the most precious thing of the Roman people, for that is what must be thrown into the chasm in order to satisfy the gods and make sure that the city will last forever."

Then, as they questioned among themselves—what this "most precious thing of the Roman people" might he, Marcus Curtius, a youth who had done great deeds in war, exclaimed:

"Can you doubt what this means? Is there any greater good for Romans than arms and bravery? This is what the gods demand; and I will devote myself as a sacrifice to them, so that my country may never perish."

Then he put on his richest armor and mounted his horse and rode to the edge of the chasm, while the people of Rome crowded the Forum and stood watching. When he had prayed to the gods, Curtius leaped his horse into the opening, and horse and rider disappeared from sight. After that the chasm closed, and all that was left to show where the opening had been was a little pool of water, which the Romans named the Curtian lake, in honor of this youth who had so willingly and gladly sacrificed himself to the gods for the good of the Roman people.

At another time, a Roman named Decius Mus did something very much like this act of Curtius: Decius was consul, and was leading the army in battle when he saw that the Romans were giving way and the enemy was pressing on to victory.

"Valerius," he cried, to the chief priest who stood by him, "we have need of the aid of the gods. Come! tell me the words by which I may offer myself a sacrifice for my soldiers."

Then, with his head covered and leaning on a spear, he repeated these words after the priest:

"Janus, Jupiter, Father Mars, and all ye gods under whose power we and our enemies are: I pray you that you will grant strength to the Roman people, that they may strike the enemies of the Romans with terror, dismay and death. I devote the soldiers of the enemy together with myself to the gods of the dead, for the sake of the soldiers of Rome."

He then mounted his horse, and rushed into the midst of the enemy, where he fell pierced by many weapons. The Roman soldiers, who followed him in his attack, were victorious; and they thought that the gods had given them the victory because their consul had offered himself as a sacrifice for them,

The War with Pyrrhus

If you will look again at the map of Italy, you will see that the Apennine mountains run from the northwestern part in a great curve through the peninsula. Within a hundred years after the Gauls destroyed Rome, the Romans ruled all the lands around the city between these mountains and the sea. But they had not yet crossed the mountains to the north; and they had no thought of going beyond them in the south either, until something happened there which forced them to do so.

The southern coast of Italy was not occupied by Italians, but by Greeks, who had come across the sea from Greece long, long before, and built cities on the southern shores of the peninsula. They were a gay, changeable people, who had now grown to be very much less worthy in character than the old Greeks who had fought the Persians so well in former days. They preferred to hire soldiers to fight for them, instead of fighting for themselves; for they loved the bustle and chatter of their city life, and the amusement of their open-air theatres, more than anything else in the world.

The most important of these Greek cities in Italy was Tarentum, which lay on the western side of the heel of the peninsula. There the people had built their theatre in a place which overlooked the sea; and as they were gathered here one day, they saw ten Roman war vessels approaching the city harbor.

Now, there was an agreement between the Romans and the people of Tarentum that the Roman war ships should not sail beyond a certain point on the southern shore; so, when the Tarentines saw these vessels coming in close to their town, they were very angry. They did not stop to think that the Romans might be coming peacefully, and with no thought of harm. They rushed headlong from the theatre to the shore, and got aboard their ships and rowed out to attack the Roman vessels; and, as the Romans were entirely unprepared for battle, five of their ships were sunk, and the men were taken prisoners.

The other five ships managed to escape, and when they returned to Rome with the news of how they had been treated at Tarentum, the Romans were very indignant. But they did not want to go to war with the people of Tarentum; so, instead of sending an army to attack that city, they sent ambassadors to demand an explanation of the wrong that had been done them.

When these ambassadors reached Tarentum, they were led before a large body of the citizens, in order that they might state their business in the hearing of all. Their grave manner and broken speech, as they tried to make their meaning clear in the Greek tongue, amused the Tarentines immensely. They laughed at them and mocked their blunders, and, at last, one wretched fellow threw dirt on the clean white toga of one of the ambassadors.

At this, the Greeks laughed louder than ever; but the insulted Roman raised the stained folds of his toga and held them before the eyes of the people.

"Laugh on, now," he cried; "but the stain on this gown can only be washed out with blood."

Then the ambassadors departed, and the two cities began to prepare for war,—but in what different ways! The Romans gathered their men together as usual, and sent them under the command of a consul across the mountains into southern Italy. But the Tarentines did not think of getting ready to fight themselves; that was not their fashion. The only thing they did was to send over into Greece to hire some general there to bring an army to fight for them against the Romans.

There were many men in the Grecian peninsula at this time who were willing enough to fight, and who knew how to fight well; but the man to whom the Taren tines sent was especially ready to give the help that they asked.

This was Pyrrhus, the king of one of the little countries of western Greece, who was a brave and generous man, and one of the best generals of that time. He was related to Alexander the Great, who a few years before this had become the conqueror of Greece and of much of the world besides. From his very boyhood Pyrrhus had lived with the Greek armies at home, in Asia, and in Egypt; and he had determined that if he should ever have the chance he would try to become like Alexander—a conqueror of great nations. So now, when the Tarentines sent to him and begged his help against the Romans, he readily gave his consent, and began to plan victories for himself in the west as great as those which Alexander had won in the east. For he meant not only to help the Tarentines against Rome, but to bring all the Greek cities of Italy and of the island of Sicily under his rule at the same time.

When Pyrrhus had gathered his army together and sailed to Tarentum, the foolish people of that city suddenly discovered that they had given themselves a stern ruler where they had only asked help against their enemy. The king had no patience with their lightness and gayety in such a time of danger. He closed their theatre and public meeting-places, and set the people to work helping his soldiers in their task of preparing for the Romans. The Tarentines obeyed unwillingly; perhaps they were already beginning to wish that they had not been so rash in making trouble, or so ready to ask aid when the trouble had come.

Soon after Pyrrhus reached Italy, the two armies the Greek and the Roman met in battle near Tarenturn. On both sides, the men fought so bravely that for a time it could not be told which would gain the victory. The Greeks formed their men in one solid mass, drawn close together with their shields touching and their great spears, eighteen feet long, extending far out in front of them. The Romans formed their men in many small companies, which were arranged loosely into three ranks, one behind the other; in this way, each company and each rank could act separately, while all supported one another. The Greeks were the strongest in defending themselves on a level surface, for the Romans could scarcely break through the dense hedge of their spear-points, and get near enough to reach them with their short swords. But the Romans could attack their enemies more freely than the Greeks could, and they could move more easily over rough ground.

A ROMAN SOLDIER.

In this battle, the Romans rushed time and again at the solid ranks of the Greeks, and seemed determined never to give up the effort to break through and throw them into disorder. But Pyrrhus had with him in his army something of which the Romans had never seen the like before. This was a herd of elephants; and when these huge beasts charged upon the Romans, with towers upon their backs filled with armed men, the Romans were filled with dismay and drew back, and their horses went mad with fright, and turned and trampled down the Roman lines. Then the Romans retreated in confusion, and the battle was lost.

Pyrrhus had gained the first victory, but he saw that he had met enemies who could not be despised, even though they had been defeated. When the fight was over, he stood upon the battlefield and saw the Roman dead all lying with their faces turned toward the enemy.

"If these were my soldiers," he said, "and I were their general, I could surely conquer the world." After this battle, Pyrrhus sent his trusted friend Cineas to Rome to propose terms of peace to the Senate, for he thought that the Romans would now be ready to give up the war.

This Cineas was as great as a statesman as Pyrrhus was as a general, and it was said of him that his tongue had taken more cities for his master than Pyrrhus had taken with his armies. During his visit to Rome, Cineas made himself most agreeable to the citizens. He had such a good memory that, after one day in Rome, he could call every great man by his name; and he was such a good judge of men that he never failed to treat each person in the way that would be most pleasing to him. So all the Romans liked him, though he was their enemy; and the Senate was almost persuaded by him to do as Pyrrhus wished, and settle upon a peace.

But there was one person in Rome whom Cineas could not win over. This was Appius Claudius, who had constructed the first aqueduct and had built the Appian Way. He was now an old man, gray-haired and blind, and it had been a long time since he had gone from his home to take his place in the Senate. But when he heard that the Senate was about to make peace with Pyrrhus, he commanded his servants to take him up and carry him in his chair through the Forum to the Senate house. There his sons and sons-in-law met him at the door, and when he was led in and rose to speak, he was received with a respectful silence.

"Until this time, O Senators," he said, "I have borne the misfortune of my blindness with some impatience. But now, when I hear this dishonorable purpose of yours, it is my great sorrow that, being blind, I am not deaf also. To make peace with Pyrrhus will be to destroy the glory of Rome. Do not persuade yourselves that making a friend of Pyrrhus is the way to send him back to his country. It is the way, rather, to show the world that you can be conquered in one battle; and soon other invaders will be upon us. The true way to rid us of our dangers is for Rome never to treat with a foreign enemy while his army remains in Italy."

The Senators were shamed by the noble courage of the aged Claudius. Instead of making peace with Pyrrhus, they sent Cineas back to his master with the message that they would not treat with him about terms of peace and friendship until his army was removed from Italian soil; and they added that so long as he stayed in Italy under arms, they would continue to fight with him, even though he should defeat them many times.

This noble answer of the Romans impressed Cineas very much. When he returned to Pyrrhus, and the king asked him what he thought of the Romans and their government, he answered:

"The Roman Senate, Sire, is an assembly of kings."

Pyrrhus himself soon had a chance to see the spirit of one of the Romans of that day. The Senate sent Caius Fabricius to the king, shortly after this, to treat for the return of the Roman prisoners who had been taken by the Greeks. Cineas told Pyrrhus that Fabricius was one who stood very high among the Romans, as an honest man and a good soldier, but that he was very poor. So Pyrrhus received him with kindness, and tried to bribe him with gold. But Fabricius refused to accept the king's gifts.

"If I am dishonest," said he, "how can I be worth a bribe? And if I am honest, how can you expect me to take one?"

Then Pyrrhus tried him in another way. The next day he commanded that one of the largest of the elephants should be placed behind the curtains while he and Fabricius sat talking together. At a signal from the king, the curtains were drawn aside, and the elephant, raising his trunk just over the head of Fabricius, trumpeted loudly. But the Roman only turned quietly and said to Pyrrhus:

"Neither your money yesterday, O King, nor this beast to-day, can move me."

You can understand that after this Pyrrhus admired Fabricius greatly. To show his favor to him, he allowed him to take the Roman prisoners with him when he returned to Rome; for a great festival in honor of the god Saturn was about to be celebrated, and ail Romans wished to take part in it. And Fabricius, in return, gave his promise to the king that if the Senate did not agree to make peace, the men should all come back to him when the holiday was past.

This festival to. Saturn was held each year in the latter part of December, and was a sort of Thanksgiving festival. It was a time when the Romans gave presents, as we do now at Christmas time, and the poor people received gifts of corn and oil and wine, and watched the servants of the wealthy carry baskets of nuts and figs and apples to their masters' friends. It was a happy, joyous time, when the boys all had new tunics and new shoes, and the slaves were allowed to be equal to their masters for once in the long year.

The festival must have passed all too quickly for the prisoners of Pyrrhus; for the Roman Senate again refused to agree to a peace, and they were sent back to the Greeks as soon as the festival was over. The Senators were so anxious to keep the promise of Fabricius unbroken, that they commanded that any prisoner who should remain behind should be put to death; but this order was not needed, for they all returned faithfully to their captivity.

It was not long after this till the Romans and the Greeks met again in battle. Once more the Romans were defeated; but they fought as stubbornly as they had in the first battle, and again it was only the elephants that won the victory for Pyrrhus. After the battle, one of the friends of the king came to him and wished him joy over his victory. But Pyrrhus replied, seeing the large number of his own men who had fallen:

"One more such victory as this, and I am lost."

The king was thinking how far he was from his own country, from which he had brought all his best soldiers, and how difficult it would be to fill up the vacant places in his army with men who were as good as those he had lost; for the Greeks of Italy did not make good soldiers. It was different with the Romans. Among them every man was a soldier, and as soon as one army was destroyed, another one as large and well-trained could be raised to take its place.

After this second battle, Pyrrhus did not care to fight again with the Romans. He left Italy and went over to the island of Sicily, and tried to make himself master of the cities there. He remained in the island for three years. When he returned to Italy, he found that the Romans had made good use of his absence. They had gained all the southern part of the peninsula except the city of Tarentum; and they were now in better condition to give battle to him than ever.

The Romans had seen that the close ranks of the Greeks fought best upon a level surface; so, when a third battle with Pyrrhus took place, they placed themselves on rough, uneven ground. The Romans had also lost much of their fear of the elephants by this time; and, when the great beasts charged at them in this battle, they hurled darts and spears at them, and so wounded and vexed the animals that at last they turned and rushed back upon the Greeks themselves. In this way the solid mass of Pyrrhus's soldiers was broken up, and after that it was not long until his whole army was terribly defeated.

After this third battle, Pyrrhus was obliged to leave Italy and go back to his own country, a disappointed man. He had failed to conquer an empire in the west, as he had planned; and it was the Romans who had caused his plans to fail.

Not long after he had gone, the city of Tarentum itself fell into the hands of the Romans; and after the fall of that city, Roman rule reached throughout the whole of Italy, from the toe of the boot up to the valley of the River Po in the north,

Rome and the Carthaginians

Now that the Romans had become masters of almost the whole of the peninsula of Italy, you might expect that their wars would cease, and that they would be left to govern peaceably what their arms had won. But this was not to be the case. As you will see, the Romans had soon to prepare for a struggle which was to prove the longest and hardest that they ever went through. This was due to the fact that right across the Mediterranean Sea from Italy, there was another people who had also been able to make themselves rulers over other lands and nations; and, after the Romans had conquered the Greeks of southern Italy, there was no longer any state to stand between these two proud and powerful peoples.

This other people dwelt in the city of Carthage, and were called Carthaginians. Their city was founded more than a hundred years before Romulus began the first settlement on the Palatine hill; and now Carthage was a larger and richer, as it was an older, city than Rome; and its people ruled a great part of the coast of Africa, of Spain, and of Sicily, and most of the islands of the western Mediterranean.

The people of Carthage were Phoenicians, and their mother country was along the eastern shores of the Mediterranean. They were of the same race as the Jews, who dwelt near by the mother land in Palestine; and in speech and religion they were more different from the people of Rome than any other people that the Romans had ever come in contact with, except the Etruscans. They were a nation of sailors and traders, and their ships were the best then known to men. They were the first to discover that they could steer their vessels, when out of sight of land, by using the North Star to guide them; so, while other nations still kept safely in sight of the shores of the Mediterranean in their voyaging, the Phoenicians pushed boldly out into the broad Atlantic, and sailed as far as the island of Great Britain on the north, and on the south a good distance down the coast of Africa. They were the discoverers and traders of that long-ago time; and they made settlements, too just as the English, and French, and Spanish did in later days, wherever they could find a good harbor, with a fertile country around it, or with mines of gold or silver or tin to work. And they did more, even, than this. In order to keep their records and accounts, they invented the alphabet which we use to-day; and they taught these letters to the Greeks and the Romans, though the languages which these people wrote with them were different from that which the Phoenicians used.

So, when the Phoenicians left their old home to found a new city in the west, they brought with them much useful knowledge. Their children, too, and their children's children, made good use of what their fathers had brought. By the time this story begins, Carthage had become a great city, which was said to cover twenty-three miles of country; and the sails of its ships dotted the waters of the western Mediterranean. The Carthaginians were good builders, also, as well as good sailors and traders. They had protected their city on the land side by three great walls, one inside of the other, and these walls were far stronger and better built than the walls which surrounded Rome. The space between the walls was taken up with stables for the elephants and war horses, and here were kept three hundred of the one and four thousand of the other. And to shelter the many ships of the Carthaginians, two great harbors had been dug out, in addition to the natural bay on which the city was built, one for the trading vessels, and one for the ships of war.

The Carthaginians were not only a powerful people; they were also very jealous of their power, and wished to prevent any other people from sharing in it. They looked upon the sea, on which their many vessels came and went, as belonging to themselves alone; and when they found the ships of other nations sailing in their waters, they did not hesitate to capture the vessels and to drown the men that they found on them. They are even said to have boasted once that, without their permission, the Romans could not even wash their hands in the waters of the sea.

The struggle between the Romans and the Carthaginians began in Sicily. The Carthaginians had long had possession of the western part of the island, while the eastern part was ruled by a number of Greek cities. It was to take the part of these Greek cities against the Carthaginians that. Pyrrhus had gone to Sicily; so the Carthaginians were friendly to Rome until the Romans had driven Pyrrhus back to his eastern home. As soon as he was disposed of, however, the friendship between Rome and Carthage began to cool. Pyrrhus had foreseen that this would be so; and as he had left the island of Sicily he had looked back at its shores and exclaimed:

"What a field we are leaving for the Romans and the Carthaginians to contend in!"

Just across the strait which separates Italy from Sicily, was a Greek city which soon after this got into very serious trouble with one of its neighbors. The people in the city were divided as to what they should do for help; so one party sent to Rome for aid, while the other invited the Carthaginians in. Now, the Romans could not permit the Carthaginians to become settled so near to Italy as that was, and, rather against their will? the Romans were forced to send the aid which had been asked. The result was the first war between Rome and Carthage.

Although the Carthaginians were masters of the sea, they were not prepared to fight the Romans on land. They had no army of citizens to depend on, such as Rome had. They hired their soldiers, as you will remember the Tarentines did, and gathered them together from many different countries. So it took them a long time to get a strong army ready to fight in Sicily; and in the meantime the Romans won many victories and took many important towns from them.

But the Romans soon discovered that they could make few lasting gains in fighting against the Carthaginians, without a navy to help them. They might conquer all Sicily with their armies, but when the war vessels of the Carthaginians came sailing around the island, the cities on the coast which had given themselves to the Romans would have to go back to the Carthaginian side once more. Besides this, the Romans—who had almost no war vessels and very little experience in managing them even if they had had them—seemed to be unable to get at Carthage itself to do it any serious harm. But the ships of Carthage could dash in from the sea upon the coast of Italy, and destroy a city or ruin a whole stretch of country before the Italians could make a move to defend themselves.

When the Romans saw this, they did one of the most daring things that we read of in their history. They determined to build a fleet, and go out and meet the Carthaginians on the sea, where they had so long been masters. They took for their model a Carthaginian ship that had been wrecked on their shores, and within sixty days, the old writers say, a growing wood was changed into a fleet of one hundred and twenty ships.

While the vessels were building, they had also to find rowers for their new fleet, and to train them for their work. To do this, rows of seats, arranged one above the other, like the benches of rowers in a ship, were built upon the ground; and on these the men took their places daily, and were taught to move their great oars all together, in obedience to the voice of the rowing master. Then, when the ships were done, the men were given a short time to practice on the water the movements which they had learned on the land; and after that the fleet sailed away to Sicily to seek out and fight their enemies.

NAVAL BATTLE

But for all their bold and determined spirit, the Romans knew very well that they could not, for some time, hope to be a match for the skillful Carthaginian sailors. Their hastily-made ships were clumsy and hard to manage, and the green wood of which they were built was already beginning to warp apart and let in the water. Their rowers and sailing-masters did not know how to make the best even of the poor ships they had; and for knowledge of the sea itself, and of its storms and currents, and of the harbors of its coasts, the Romans had to depend upon people of other cities, whom they hired to help them. The only way that the Romans could hope to win a sea-fight was by getting their vessels right up alongside the ships of the enemy, and then fighting it out with their spears and swords, just as they would a battle on the land.

To enable their vessels to do this, some clever Roman thought out a plan which all the ships adopted. A strong mast was planted in the prow of every Roman vessel, and about this was fastened a long plank or platform, in such a way that the outer end of the plank could be pulled up and let down, like the drawbridge of a castle, in front or on either side of the vessel. At the end of the plank, and pointing downward, a long spike was fixed, so that when the plank was let fall this spike would sink into the deck of the enemy's ship and hold it fast. When the platform was raised against the mast, this sharp piece of iron sticking out in front looked so much like the strong bill of a great bird that the Romans called the whole thing a "crow."

When the Carthaginians saw the Roman ships sailing up to meet them, they were puzzled at first by the strange structures in their bows; but they knew that the Romans were ignorant of everything that had to do with managing ships, so they supposed that they would have an easy victory. They rowed straight out to meet the Romans, therefore, and sought to ram the Roman vessels with the prows of their own ships. But no sooner did a Carthaginian vessel come within reach of a Roman one, than down fell the "crow" of the latter, and the two ships were held firmly together. Then Roman soldiers poured across the bridge thus made, and soon they had captured the vessel. In this way the Romans captured or destroyed fifty of the Carthaginian ships, and those that were left were glad enough to turn and flee from the terrible Roman "crows."

This was the first Roman victory on the sea, but after it they won many others. Now that they had a fleet, moreover, the Romans could take an army across the sea to Africa, and there fight the Carthaginians in their own land. This they did; and the Roman general, Regulus, was very successful there for a time, and, at last, brought the Carthaginians so low that they were forced to ask for peace.

Then Regulus showed how little he knew the brave people with whom he was fighting. He seemed to think that Carthage was as completely conquered as the little Italian towns which Rome had been taking, one by one, for so many years. The terms of peace which he offered were so hard that the Carthaginians concluded that they could not be left in a worse condition even if Carthage itself was captured; so they resolved to continue the war. Fortunately for them, the Carthaginians now found a good general, who knew how to use their cavalry and their elephants. Soon Regulus himself was defeated and taken prisoner; and for five years he was kept a captive at. Carthage while the war continued on land and sea.

It had been thirteen years since the Romans had first crossed over into Sicily, when ambassadors were again sent to treat about peace. According to the stories which have come down to us, Regulus was now taken from his prison and sent to Rome, along with the Carthaginian ambassadors, to assist them in bringing about the peace; and he was made to promise that if peace was not made he would return at once to Carthage.

The Carthaginians sent Regulus with the ambassadors because they thought that, for his own sake, he would do all that he could to help bring the war to a close. But when Regulus reached Rome, he was noble enough to forget himself in his love for his country. He advised the Senate not to make peace, and not to exchange their Carthaginian prisoners for the Romans who were in the hands of Carthage; and in the speech which he made in the Senate he is reported to have said:

"Let not the Senate buy with gold what ought to be won back only by force of arms; and let those Romans who surrendered when they ought to have died in battle, die at last in the land that saw their disgrace."

When Regulus said this, he knew that if he went back to Carthage after such a speech, the Carthaginians would put him to death. For a while the Senate hesitated, out of pity for him; but at last the peace which the Carthaginians asked was refused. Then Regulus went quietly back to Carthage, as he had promised; and if we may believe the story, the Carthaginians cruelly put him to death, as he had expected that they would do.

For ten years longer, the war dragged on, until at last neither Carthage nor Rome had money or men to spend in further efforts. Rome had been most unfortunate at sea. Fleet after fleet which she sent to Sicily and Africa was wrecked and destroyed by the terrible storms which rage there at certain seasons of the year, and which the Romans did not know how to guard against.

After this had happened several times, the Romans determined to make one more effort. Their ships were all gone, and there was no money in the treasury to build new ones; but the wealthy citizens of Rome joined together and built a fleet of two hundred vessels at their own expense; and they only asked, in return, that if the city could ever repay them, it would do so.

With this fleet the Romans again set out, and this time they were as successful as they had been the first time they took to the sea. They had now learned from their mistakes and misfortunes, while the Carthaginians had become careless; so, when the Romans came up with the Carthaginian fleet off the western coast of Sicily, they sunk fifty of the enemy's vessels and captured seventy more.

Then Carthage and Rome made peace, for they saw that neither city could wholly conquer the other, at that time. Carthage had got the worst of it in this first war; so she was obliged to give up all claim to Sicily, to release the Roman prisoners without a ransom, and besides this, to pay to Rome a large sum of money for the expenses of the war. Rome took possession of the part of Sicily which the Carthaginians had held, and set up a government over it; and before many years had gone by, the whole island had passed under her control. In this way arose Rome's first possession outside of Italy.

The War with Hannibal

After the Carthaginians had made peace with ome, and had withdrawn their troops from Sicily, they had to endure three terrible years of warfare with their own subjects and soldiers, in the country round about Carthage. But through all this time of defeat and disaster, there was one man among them who remained undismayed.

This was Hamilcar, the greatest of their generals and the only man among the Carthaginians whom the Romans at that time feared. Hamilcar had fought Rome successfully, as long as his city could give him money and men to fight with; and when he saw that Carthage could do no more, it was he who had made the peace. He had no thought of a lasting peace with Rome, however; he hated that city as much as he loved Carthage, and he was already planning a way to injure her, while he made up to his own country for the loss of Sicily. Both of these objects he thought he could gain by conquering the Spanish peninsula, where the Carthaginians had already made settlements; and when he brought the matter before the Senate at Carthage, they gave him permission to take an army there and see what he could do.

As Hamilcar was preparing to leave for Spain with his army, he went before the altar of one of the Carthaginian gods, and offered sacrifice for the success of his plans. During the sacrifice, his little son Hannibal, who was then about nine years old, stood beside him; and when it was over, Hamilcar turned to the boy and said:

"Hannibal, would you like to go with me to Spain?"

When the lad eagerly answered that he should like very much to do so, Hamilcar took him by the hand and led him to the altar, and said:

"Then lay your hand upon the sacrifice, and swear that you will never be friends with Rome, so long as you shall live."

The boy did as he was bidden; and in due time he was taken away to Spain, with the thought deep in his breast that he was now the enemy of Rome forever. From that time, he grew up in the camp of his father, and his daily lessons were in the arts of war and of generalship. He was his father's companion while Hamilcar conquered the rich peninsula of Spain for Carthage; and before Hamilcar had died, Hannibal had learned all that his father could teach him of warfare and of government.

After Hamilcar was gone, Hannibal proved himself a worthy son of so great a father; and when he was only twenty-seven years of age, he was chosen to fill his father's place as commander of the Carthaginian army. This army was made up, in large part, of men from the conquered nations in Spain; but under the leadership of Hannibal, it did not matter much who the soldiers were who made up the army. His men became simply the soldiers of Hannibal, and were so filled with love and admiration for their general, that they were ready to follow him anywhere and do anything that he commanded.

When Hannibal had got his army in good condition, he attacked a town in Spain that was friendly to Rome, and conquered it. The Roman Senate was already beginning to fear this son of Hamilcar as it had feared Hamilcar himself, and when news came of the attack on this friendly town, it sent ambassadors to Carthage to demand that Hannibal should be given up to the Romans. But the Carthaginians would not consent to this. Then the leader of the Roman ambassadors gathered up the folds of his toga and held them before him, saying:

"I carry here peace and war; which shall *I give to you?"

"You may give us whichever you choose," replied the Carthaginians.

"Then I give you war," cried the Roman, as he shook out the folds of his toga.

In this way, the second war between Rome and Carthage was declared. But it was not really a war between the two states which now began. It was rather a war between all the power of Rome, on the one side, and Hannibal, with his devoted army and his vow of hatred to the Romans, on the other. When Hannibal heard in Spain that war had been declared, he was prepared for it, and needed only to think how he should attack his enemies.

He was determined that this war should be fought on Roman, and not on Carthaginian, ground. That meant that the war was to be fought in Italy. Hannibal had the choice of two ways of reaching Italy from Spain. He might cross the sea in Carthaginian ships, or he might go by land, through Spain and Gaul. If he chose the latter way, he would have to make a long march through an unfriendly country, and cross the Alps, which are the highest mountains in Europe. If he chose to go by sea, he ran the risk of wreck by storms, and defeat and capture by the Roman fleet, which was now stronger than that of the Carthaginians. Either way, it was a choice of evils.

HANNIBAL

Hannibal chose to go by land; but we may be sure of one thing, and that is, that he did not know quite how difficult a path it was that he had taken. He was the greatest man of his time, but he had no good way of learning the simple facts about the world he lived in which you are taught in every day's geography lesson. The thought of the mountains to be climbed, and the rivers to be crossed, in the long journey, did not make him hesitate, for he did not fully know them. He knew that the Gauls had passed through the high Alps,—then why could not he do it also? He could have had no clear idea even of the distance his soldiers would have to march before they reached Italy; for his guides at any time could tell him the way and the distances for only a few days' march ahead, and when that was passed he would have to find other persons who knew the country beyond, and would undertake to guide his army on.

In was in the month of April that Hannibal started on his long march. Besides the many thousand men, both infantry and cavalry, who made up his army, he took with him thirty-seven of the Carthaginian elephants to use iii battle, and many horses and mules to carry the baggage of the army.

As soon as he got out of the territory that had been conquered by Carthage, his troubles began. He had to fight his way against unfriendly natives through northern Spain; and it was midsummer before he had crossed the mountains which separate the peninsula from Gaul. Then, in a short time, he came to the swift-flowing river Rhone. Here the Gauls gathered on the opposite bank, and tried to prevent him from crossing. Hannibal soon overcame these enemies, however, and led his army safely over in canoes and boats, which his men collected along the river; but the elephants could only be taken over after he had pre, pared great rafts on which to ferry them across.

After they had crossed the Rhone, the way was easy until they came to the foot of the Alps; but there the greatest difficulties of the march began. The way now lay along steep, narrow paths, up which the horses and elephants could scarcely climb; and often a single slip or misstep would have been enough to send them rolling and tumbling a thousand feet down the mountain side, to be dashed to pieces on the rocks below. The people who inhabited the mountains, too, were unfriendly to the Carthaginians. They stationed themselves on either side of the zigzag path up which the army toiled, and hurled stones and weapons upon them from the heights above. These threw the long line of baggage animals into great disorder, and the wounded and frightened horses galloped back and forth, and either fell themselves or crowded others off over the cliffs and down the mountain side, carrying with them as they fell baggage which the army could ill afford to lose. Again and again Hannibal was obliged to take some of his best men and clamber up the cliffs and over the rocks to attack and drive off these enemies; and once in such an attempt he and his men were separated from the rest of the army, and were forced to remain on their guard all night long under the shelter of a great white rock which stood by the side of the path.

At last, on the ninth day after they had begun their ascent, the army reached the summit of the pass. After that they were no longer troubled by attacks from the mountain tribes. Here Hannibal remained for two days, in order to rest his men and beasts; and while the army was here, many of the horses which had taken fright and run away, and many of the beasts of burden, which had got rid of their loads, came straggling into camp, having followed the tracks of the army.

After they had rested sufficiently, they began the descent into Italy. But now new difficulties presented themselves. The way was now downhill, but the slope was more abrupt than it was on the other side of the mountains. It was now late in the autumn, moreover; and as the snow falls early in these high regions, the paths were already covered with a thin coating of new-fallen snow, which caused the men and beasts to slip and made the descent more dangerous than the ascent had been. At one place, too, they found that a landslide had completely blocked up the path, and it took four anxious days of hard labor to cut out a new one for the horses and elephants in the side of the steep and rocky cliff.

But, through all their trials and dangers, Hannibal cheered and encouraged the army. When they reached a height from which the rich plain of the valley of the River Po could be seen in the distance, he called his men about him, and pointing to it, he said:

"There is Italy! There are friends waiting to welcome you and aid you against the tyrant Rome! You have now climbed not only the walls of Italy, but of Rome itself; and after one, or at most two, battles, all these fertile fields will be yours."

Then the soldiers pushed on with new courage; and on the fifteenth day after they had entered the Alps, they came out on the other side of them, in Italy. But the army was terribly weakened by the hardships of the way and the fights with the natives. More than half of the men and horses, and many of the elephants, had been lost; and the soldiers who remained were so broken and worn by their sufferings that they looked not like men, but like the shadows of men.

Still, the courage of Hannibal did not fail him. He camped his men at the foot of the Alps among friendly tribes of the Gauls, and allowed them to rest and refresh themselves for several days, while the poor lean horses were turned out to pasture; and soon all were ready once more to follow wherever he chose to lead them.

The Romans had not expected that Hannibal would attempt to cross the Alps and carry the war into Italy; or, if any of them did expect it, they had no idea that he would succeed so well and so soon. So, when news came that Hannibal was already in Italy, the Romans were surprised and dismayed; but still they hurriedly gathered together their forces, and sent them on to meet the enemy.

Anyone but Hannibal they might have stopped, but Hannibal they could not check. He defeated them in battle after battle, and swept on through their country, with his little army, in a torrent that could not be resisted. The Romans fought desperately, aroused by fear for the city itself; but the armies that faced Hannibal were destroyed in quick succession. In one battle the Romans lost nearly 70,000 men, including eighty senators; and the Carthaginians gathered from the rich men who had fallen on that field enough gold rings to fill a bushel measure. After that, the name of Hannibal became a word of terror to old and young alike; and nearly two hundred years after this time, the memory of that terror still lingered. A Roman poet then wrote of him, and called him "the dread Hannibal," and said that his march through Italy was like the sweep of the eastern gales that had wrecked so many Roman fleets in the waters of Sicily, or like the rush of flames through a blazing forest of pines.

The Romans had learned how to defeat the Gauls and the Greeks in battle, but they were long in learning how to defeat Hannibal. He was greater than they, and, as long as he remained in Italy, the city of Rome trembled. But the Senate remained strong in the midst of the public terror, and while the people mourned for their dead, the Senators only sought men for another army to take the place of the one that had last been destroyed. Their generals, too, though they could not defeat Hannibal in battle, learned to be cautious; and they would no longer lead their armies out to fight against him, but hung about watching his camp, in order to cut off any of the Carthaginians who might become separated from the main body while searching for food for themselves or for their horses. In this way, they sought to wear out Hannibal by cutting off his supplies, and so make it necessary at last for him to leave Italy of his own accord.

In the end, Rome succeeded, as she always did. "The Romans," said an old writer who described this war, "are never so dangerous as when they seem just about to be conquered." Hannibal found, as Pyrrhus had done before him, that he was fighting a people who could replace a defeated army with another which was just as ready as the first to fight to the death, Most of the peoples of Italy, too, remained faithful to Rome in this time of trial; and Hannibal was disappointed in getting the help from them, against their conqueror, upon which he had counted. So, at last, he was forced to look to Africa and to Spain for new men and for supplies for his army; and when his brother came over the Alps, bringing him help from Spain, he was defeated and slain by the Romans before Hannibal knew that he was in Italy. Besides this, the Senate found men and ships enough to carry the war over into Spain and Africa; and, by and by, the Carthaginians were forced to order Hannibal to give up his plans in Italy in order to return to defend Carthage itself against the attacks of Rome.

So after fifteen years of victories, which brought the war no nearer a close, Hannibal was obliged at last to leave Italy and return to Africa. It was the first time he had been back since he had left there, as a boy, thirty-six years before. When he arrived, he found Carthage much weakened by the war. The general in command of the Roman army there was Publius Cornelius Scipio, or "Scipio Africanus," as he soon came to be called, from his deeds in Africa. He was an able general, and had just brought the war in Spain to an end; where, as he reported to the Senate, he "had fought with four generals and four victorious armies, and had not left a single Carthaginian soldier in the peninsula. "Now he was to do something greater still, something that no Roman had ever yet done, that is, to defeat Hannibal in an open battle.

This battle took place near a little town called Zama, which was about two hundred miles inland from Carthage. Scipio had more troops than Hannibal, but Hannibal had about eighty elephants, and he hoped to win the battle with these. The Romans, however, were now thoroughly used to fighting against elephants; they opened great lanes in their ranks, and let the elephants pass harmlessly through, while the soldiers hurled spears and other weapons at them to drive them along or turn them back. Then the Roman foot-soldiers charged the Carthaginians, shouting their war-cry and clashing their swords against their shields. After a hard fight the Carthaginians were overcome. Hannibal alone, with a few of his horsemen, succeeded in escaping, and he at once advised the Carthaginian Senate to make peace.

The terms of the peace were much harder than they had been at the close of the first war. Carthage had to give up all of her possessions outside of Africa, and surrender all of her elephants, and all of her warships but ten. She had also to pay an indemnity of about twelve million dollars to Rome, and to agree never to make war on any one without the consent of the Roman Senate. In this way, Carthage ceased to be the head of a great empire, and became merely the ruler of a little strip of territory along the coast of Africa.

After the treaty was signed, Hannibal remained at Carthage, and tried faithfully to help his country in peace as he had helped her in war. But the Romans feared him still, and distrusted him, and before many years had passed, he was forced to fly from the city to avoid being put to death by their orders. After that, he wandered about from kingdom to kingdom, on the eastern shores of the Mediterranean. But wherever he went, Roman messengers followed, and would not let him rest in peace; and, at last, after thirteen years of wandering, he was forced to take his own life to avoid falling into the hands of his unforgiving enemies.

Rome Conquers the World

The victory which Rome had won over Hannibal meant something more to the Romans than saving their country from the Carthaginians. It meant the spread of Roman rule from Italy and Sicily over into Africa, Spain and Greece, and even into Asia. The Carthaginians were the only people of that day who were strong enough to resist the Romans for any length of time. When they were defeated, at last, there was no other nation in the world that could oppose the power of Rome successfully. Besides this, the Romans were the only people that knew how to rule well, and could put down pirates and robbers, and make the world safe for men to live in. Whenever trouble would arise in any country, the Romans would interfere; and then it would not be long before the old government would cease, and the Romans would be ruling that country as part of their own land.

Before, sixty years had passed from the close of the second war with Carthage, Rome had, in this way, become the ruler of almost all the lands that border upon the Mediterranean Sea; and she had gained this great power without anyone planning it beforehand, or intending to bring it about.

MAP OF THE ROMAN EMPIRE.

You have seen that the Romans received Sicily after the first war with Carthage. During the second war, while Hannibal was in Italy, they conquered Spain; and they kept it for themselves after this war was over. Then they felt the need of conquering northern Italy and southern Gaul, so that their armies could march from Rome to Spain without being attacked by enemies on the way; and this land also was added to the Roman rule. In this way, Rome came to rule over almost all of the western part of the Mediterranean world.

It was not long before the Romans reached out into the eastern part of the Mediterranean also. Just north of Greece was a country called Macedonia, whose king had sent soldiers to Hannibal, at the battle of Zama, to aid him against the Romans. To punish him for this, the Romans made war upon him, and defeated him; and, when his son Perseus took up arms after his father's death, they defeated him also. Then the Romans began to rule over Macedonia, and over Greece as well, for the Greeks had long been ruled by the Macedonians, and were now no longer able to rule themselves. And the Romans even went over into Asia Minor and made war on a great king there, who was interfering with affairs in Europe, and who besides was sheltering Hannibal after the Romans had caused him to be driven from Carthage. In this war, the Romans were easily victorious; and, after this, all of Asia that lay along the Mediterranean came under= Roman influence also.

By this time, the Roman name had become a great one throughout all the world about the Mediterranean Sea. Whenever the ruler of a country was threatened by an enemy, and was too weak to meet him alone, his first thought was to call upon the Romans for help. In this way the ruler of Egypt begged the help of Rome, when a neighboring king made war upon his country. The Senate sent an ambassador to this king, and when they met the Roman drew a circle with his staff on the ground about the king, and said:

"Before you step out of the circle which I have drawn, answer this question, O King. Which will you do, give up your war upon Egypt and have Rome for your friend; or continue it and have Rome for your enemy?"

It did not take the king long to decide that it was best to give up the war. After that the Romans had much influence in Egypt, because they had saved the country from its enemies; and in the course of tine, it too was joined to the Roman lands.

In the meantime, Carthage had been slowly recovering from her last war with Rome. Once more, her streets were filled with citizens and her harbors with ships; and the city was growing strong and wealthy again. But now a stern old Roman named Cato went to Africa and visited Carthage, and, seeing the city growing prosperous once more, he feared that it might again become able to fight with Rome on equal terms. When he returned to Italy he bore away with him a bunch of fine figs, plucked in the gardens of Carthage. Upon reaching Rome, he spoke long and earnestly in the Senate of the danger which the Carthaginians might yet be able to bring upon the city, and then he showed to the Senators the fresh figs which he had brought back with him.

"The country where these grew is but three days' sail from Rome," he said. "Carthage should be destroyed."

And after this he never ended a speech in the Senate, no matter what he had been talking about, without adding, "And, moreover, I think that Carthage should be destroyed."

At last Cato persuaded the Romans to make war upon Carthage a third time. In spite of the brave defense of the city by the Carthaginians, when even the women and children joined in the fight, the Romans were victorious once more. This time the city was utterly destroyed, and the ground upon which the buildings had stood was ploughed over and sowed with salt, so that it might never more be used by men, or even covered by growing things again. Then Rome began to rule the land about Carthage, and so gained control of most of the northern coast of Africa.

In this way, the city of Rome came to hold a power in the world greater than any nation has ever held before or since that day. And in whatever country the Romans went, they made their aqueducts and built bridges and raised public buildings, as they had been doing for so long in Italy itself. Above all, they built good roads to all the lands that came under their rule, so that they might send armies swiftly from one country to another whenever there was need to do so. Along these roads they placed milestones, so that travelers might know at any time just how many miles they were from Rome; and where the towns were far apart, stations were built by the way where they might rest and hire fresh horses to carry them on their journey to the next stopping-place. In this manner, the Romans made traveling by land much easier than it had ever been before, and thus distant lands were more closely connected with one another, just as they have been in our own day by the building of railroads and the putting up of telegraph and telephone wires.

But Rome could not go out over the world and build in and rule over all the Mediterranean countries, without this making a great difference in the Romans themselves. Their great men were no longer like Cincinnatus, who left the plough to fight for his country and then went back again when the danger was past. The Roman generals were now very rich men, and they spent all their time in war or in the public business of their country. And, instead of refusing the gifts of kings as Fabricius had refused the gold of Pyrrhus, it was said that the Roman generals asked for money wherever they went about the world.

The common soldiers, too, were not so good as they had been in the old days. Then each man fought in the army without pay, and supported himself and his family in time of peace by means of his little farm. But now many men began to make a business of fighting, and to serve in the army for a living. As these men did not fight solely for the love of their country, but rather for the money that they got by it, they began to grumble when they were commanded to do things which they did not like to do, and sometimes they refused outright to do them.

With such generals and such soldiers, it is not surprising that the Romans were now sometimes shamefully beaten in battle.

When they were carrying on the war in Macedonia against King Perseus, the first armies that were sent against him were defeated for just this reason. Then the Romans saw that there must be some change made, and they chose a general of the old-fashioned sort to take the command. His name was Aemilius Paullus, and he was a poor man still, although he could easily have been rich if he had been willing to do as other men were doing. He had been one of the generals in Spain, and also in the north of Italy, and in both places he had shown that he knew how to manage his armies and to gain victories. So the people agreed that he was the man to send against King Perseus, and, rather against his wishes, they elected him consul, and voted to give him command of the army.

Aemilius did not thank the people after they had chosen him consul, as was usually done. Instead of that he said:

"I suppose, O Romans, that you have chosen me to lead in this war because you think that I can command better than anybody else. I shall expect, therefore, that you will obey my orders, and not give me orders yourselves; for if you propose to command your own commander, you will only make my defeat worse than the former ones."

When Aemilius came to the army in Greece, he saw that the first thing to do was to teach the soldiers to obey orders. He kept them in camp and drilled them for many days; and when they murmured and wanted to be led out to battle, he said to them:

"Soldiers! you should not meddle with what does not concern you. It is your business only to see that you and your arms are ready when the order is given, and that, when your commander gives the word, you use your swords as Romans should."

In this way, Aemilius trained his army; and when the battle was fought, the Romans won a great victory. King Perseus and his children and all his treasures were captured, and his country was brought under the Roman rule. But Aemilius would not so much as go to see the heaps of gold and silver which had been taken from the king's palaces. Instead of making himself and his friends rich from it, he commanded that it should all be seat to Rome and put into the public treasury; and the amount of it was so great that never after that did Rome have need to raise a war tax from her own people.

The common soldiers, however, were angry at this action of Aemilius, for they wanted to divide this spoil among themselves; besides this, they disliked him because he ruled them so strictly. So, when the army had returned to Rome, and it was proposed that Aemilius should be allowed a triumph, the soldiers opposed the motion before the people. But an old general who had commanded in many wars arose, and said:

"It is now clearer than ever to my mind how great a commander our Aemilius is; for I see that he was able to do such great deeds with an army full of baseness and grumbling."

At this, the soldiers were so ashamed that they let the people vote the triumph for Aemilius.

When the day for the celebration came, seats were set up in the Forum and in all parts of the city where the show could best be seen. On these the Roman people took their places, dressed in white garments and ready for the great holiday. The temples were all open and filled with flowers and garlands, and the main streets were cleared, and kept open by officers who drove back all who crowded into them. Then came the great procession, which lasted for three days.

On the first day, two hundred and fifty chariots passed, filled with pictures and statues and other images which had been taken from the Greeks.

TRIUMPHAL PROCESSION

On the second day, the rich armor which had been raptured was shown; and it made a fine sight, with the light glancing from the polished helmets and shields, and with the swords and spears rattling about among the armor. After the wagons bearing this, marched three thousand men, each bearing a basin full of silver coin; and after them came others, bearing the silver bowls, goblets and cups which had been taken,

But the third day was the finest sight of all. First, early in the morning came the trumpeters, sounding such notes as the Romans used to encourage their soldiers in battle. Then came young men wearing robes with ornamented borders and leading one hundred and twenty fat oxen, all with their horns gilded, and with ribbons and garlands of flowers tied about their heads. These were for the sacrifices to the gods, which were to be offered at the temples on the Capitol; and with them went boys bearing basins of gold and silver to be used by the priests in the offerings.

After the cattle for the sacrifices came seventy-seven men, each carrying a basin filled with gold coin; and with them marched those who carried the golden goblets and dishes which King Perseus had used at his table. Then came the chariot of the king, with his armor in it, and his crown lying on top of that. Then came the king's little children two boys and a girl with their attendants and teachers; and, as they passed along, the attendants wept and stretched out their hands, and begged the Romans to show mercy to the little princes. Many hearts were touched at the sight of this misfortune of tender children.

Then, after a little space, came King Perseus himself, clothed all in black, and walking quite alone, so that all the people might get a good look at him. After the king and his attendants had gone past, Aemilius himself appeared, riding in a splendid chariot, and dressed in a robe of purple mixed with gold, and holding in his right hand a laurel branch. And following the chariot marched all the army, with laurel branches in their right hands, and singing songs of triumph,—just as though they had been the most obedient soldiers in the world. So the triumph ended.

Many years before, you will remember, the Roman people had crowded the Forum to see Marcus Curtius leap into the chasm and sacrifice himself for the good of his country. What a different sight they had now come to watch their great army coming home in triumph, burdened with the wealth of a conquered kingdom, and the king and his little children walking into a cruel captivity before the chariot of their general! The power of Rome had indeed grown greatly in the meantime; but if we could have seen both sights, perhaps we should have decided that, after all, the first one was the better for the Roman people.

The Gracchi and Their Mother

After having watched the splendid triumph of Aemilius, let us see one of the more common sights of the city,—a Roman wedding. You will find it very unlike the weddings you may have seen among our own people, but, however strange the Roman customs are to you, you must remember that they were very sacred to the Romans.

Imagine that you are a Roman, and that it is your sister who is to be married. First, she is dressed in a garment made all of one piece of cloth, without any seams, and fastened about the waist with a woolen belt or girdle. Her hair is curled in six little curls, and it must not be parted with a comb, but with the point of a spear; and about her head she wears a yellow veil or net. In the evening, a procession is formed by the friends of both families, and the bride is taken from her father's house to that of her husband; and along the way minstrels play on their harps, and bridal songs are sung, and a little boy marches on before, carrying a blazing torch made from the wood of the white-thorn tree.

When the procession comes to the door of the bridegroom, the bride must wrap the doorposts with sacred fillets of white wool, and smear them with oil or fat. After that she must be carefully lifted over the doorsill by her husband. Some of the older people will tell you that this is done so that the bride may not stumble as she enters her husband's house for the first time, for that would be a very bad sign; but others will say that this is done in memory of the time when the followers of Romulus took wives from among the Sabine women by force.

After the procession has entered the house, the bride turns and says to her husband:

"Where thou art, Caius, there will I, Caia, be also."

After these words, the husband presents her with fire and water, to show that she is now a member of his family, and can sit at his hearth and join in the worship of his household gods. After this comes the feast, with its wedding cake and plenty of nuts scattered about; and then the wedding is over.

This is the way that Cornelia, the daughter of Scipio Africanus, was married to Tiberius Gracchus. He was a fine soldier and a just and honorable man; and she was then a beautiful girl, with bright clear eyes, that showed a noble soul within.

For many years they lived happily together, and had many children. Then, according to the story, he found in their sleeping-room one day a pair of large snakes. Now, the Romans looked upon snakes as something sacred; so Tiberius Gracchus went to the priests and asked what he should do with them. The priests answered that he must kill one of the snakes and let the other go; and they added, that if he killed the female snake, Cornelia would die, and that if he killed the male, he himself would shortly perish.

Tiberius loved his wife very much; so, when he heard this, he went home and killed the male snake, and let the female escape. And shortly after that he himself died.

After that, Cornelia lived only for her children; and when the king of Egypt sent to her and wished her to become his queen, she would not consent. Only three of her children two boys and a girl lived to grow up to manhood and womanhood; and on these Cornelia centered all of her love and care. She lived with them, and played with them, and taught them their letters; and, as she was a noble, high-minded woman, her children grew up to be brave, honorable and truth-telling in all that they did.

One day, as Cornelia was sitting at home, with the children playing in the courtyard within, a lady came to visit her. As she talked with Cornelia, this lady showed her the splendid rings and precious stones which she wore, and at last asked to see Cornelia's jewels.

Then Cornelia called her little children, and when they stood before her and her visitor, she said:

"These are my jewels."

As her boys grew up to be men, Cornelia would sometimes reproach them that she was still known as the relative of the Scipios, and not as the mother of the Gracchi; and in this way she made them long to do great deeds, so as to bring her honor.

The oldest of the two boys was named Tiberius, after his father. When the time came for him to enter the army, he went at his work with so much earnestness that in a short time he excelled all the other young men in deeds of arms.

When the Romans made war on Carthage for the third time, Tiberius Gracchus was the first man to get up on the wall of the city; and when he was in Spain, helping to carry on a war with the mountain tribes that lived in that peninsula, he saved the whole army from being destroyed as a result of the faults and mistakes of its commander.

But it is not for what he did as a soldier that we remember Tiberius Gracchus most frequently. It is rather for what he did after he returned to Rome and became a tribune of the people.

During the terrible war with Hannibal, the small farmers had their farms ruined, and fled to the city. After the war was over, the land gradually passed into the hands of the Senators and rich men of Rome, and a few great farms took the place of many small ones. The worst of it was that these large farms were not tilled by free laborers, but by slaves, just as the land in the southern states was before our Civil War except that the Roman slaves were white, and were treated ever so much more cruelly than our negro slaves ever were. So the poor freeman not only lost his land, but he lost the chance to work for hire also. The only thing he could do after that was either to enlist in the army and earn his living as a soldier, or else remain idly at Rome and cry out for bread to keep him alive and games to amuse him; and the rich candidates for offices were so eager to get the aid of the poorer citizens that they gladly bought their votes by feeding and amusing them. But, in this way, both the rich and the poor became selfish and greedy, and thought only of what would help themselves, instead of what would be best for the whole people.

Tiberius Gracchus saw these evils, and when he became tribune, he tried to cure them. Much of the land which the rich men held really belonged to the state, *though it had been out of the hands of the state for so many years that the people who held it had begun to forget that they did not really own it. What Gracchus proposed to do was to take back this land, and divide it among the poor citizens, and so build up once more a strong class of small landholders, such as had made Rome fit to be a conquering nation.

The men who already had this land did not like this plan at all; so, when Gracchus brought forward his law for the people to vote on it, they got another tribune, named Octavius, to veto it, and that stopped the voting. Then, when Gracchus found that he could not get Octavius to withdraw his veto, he got the people to put him out of his office and elect a new tribune in his place. This was against the law, but Gracchus did not see any other way of getting his measure passed.

After this, the law which Gracchus had proposed was passed, and he and two other men were appointed to carry out the distribution of the lands. Before the work was done, however, Gracchus's year of office was up; and he was afraid that as soon as he should be out of office, the rich citizens would not only find some way to stop the carrying out of the law, but they would also punish him for putting Octavius out of office. It was against the laws, at this time, for anyone to be tribune two years in succession; but Tiberius decided to disobey the laws once more, and get himself elected tribune a second time.

When the Senators and rich citizens heard this, they were very angry, and determined to prevent it. When the day of the election came a riot broke out. Gracchus was accused of trying to make himself king. Then the Senators and rich men armed themselves with clubs and bits of benches and stools, and set upon the poorer citizens; and Tiberius Gracchus and three hundred of his followers were slain.

Gracchus had been wrong in putting Octavius out of office, and in trying to get himself elected tribune a second time against the laws. But how much worse was the action of the Senators and rich citizens! In the old days, when the patricians and the plebeians struggled together, they did so peaceably and with respect for the laws. Now, in these new struggles between the party of the poor and the party of the rich, force was for the first time used and men were killed in a political struggle at Rome; and for this the Senators and rich men were chiefly to blame.

Caius Gracchus was not at Rome when his brother was killed; he was, moreover, still a very young man, and had just begun his training in the army. For ten years longer he went on serving with the armies of Rome. Then, although the Senate tried unlawfully to keep him from returning to the city, he came back, and he too was elected tribune.

Caius was much more hot-tempered than his brother had been. In spite of all that his mother Cornelia could do to prevent it, he resolved to carry out the plans of his brother Tiberius, and even to go further. He wanted to overturn the government by the Senate and the nobles, and put in its place a government by the people, with himself at their head. He got the support of the people for this by passing a law that they should always have grain sold to them at a low price. Then he got the support of many of the rich citizens, by passing laws which took rights and privileges from the Senators and gave them to the rich men who were not Senators.

In this way, Caius Gracchus got much more power than his brother had had; and a law having now been passed which permitted one to be reelected as tribune, Caius was made tribune a second time. After this, he was able to pass many laws to help the poorer citizens. But when he wished to go further, and to help the Italians who were not citizens of Rome, then the Romans selfishly deserted him. They were afraid that they would have to share their cheap grain and their free games with the Italians, so this law was not passed; and, at the next election, Caius Gracchus was not made tribune again.

After that Gracchus tried to live quietly, as a private citizen, at Rome. But now that he was no longer tribune, the nobles soon found means to pick a quarrel with him; and when a riot again broke out, Caius and many of his friends were put to death by the Senators, as Tiberius Gracchus had been before them.

You would think that, after the death of her second son, poor Cornelia would be heart-broken and would never want to see Rome again, because of the ingratitude with which its citizens had treated her sons. But the Romans believed that you ought not to show sorrow at anything that might happen to you, no matter how dreadful it was. So Cornelia put on a brave face, and hid the suffering which was in her heart; and when she spoke of the deeds and deaths of her sons, she spoke of them without a sigh or a tear, just as if she were talking about some of the ancient heroes who had died ages before. So all men admired her for her courage and virtue; and in time the Roman people repented of their conduct towards her sons, and began to look upon them as the truest friends they had ever had. And when Cornelia died, a statue was set up to her, and underneath it were carved these words, as her best title to fame:

"Cornelia, the mother of the Gracchi."

The Wars of Caius Marius

Caius Marius was a poor country lad who entered the army as a common soldier and, without the help of money or of a powerful family, rose to the highest position. It is said that when he was a boy, he one day caught in his cloak an eagle's nest, with seven young ones in it, as it was falling from a high tree. From this the wise men foretold that he should be seven times consul; and Marius never rested until this saying carne true.

He gained his first knowledge of war in Spain under Scipio Aemilianus. This Scipio was the son of Aemilius Paulus, the conqueror of Macedonia, and had been adopted into the family of the Scipios by the son of the great Scipio Africanus; as he was also an able and honorable man, he was thus a very good master under whom to learn the art of war. Caius Marius profited well by the lessons which he learned in the camp of Scipio. And when Scipio was asked one day where the Romans would ever find so good a general as himself when he was gone, he turned and touched the shoulder of young Marius, who stood by, and said:

"Here, perhaps."

This encouraged Marius, and he struggled on for many years, gradually rising in the army and in the state from one position to another. At last the opportunity came when he could get himself elected consul, and have the command of an army himself.

The opportunity came in this way. A king named Jugurtha arose in a little kingdom near Carthage, who gained his power in a most unjust manner, and then used it in a way that was even worse. At last the Roman Senate was forced to declare war upon him. He did not prove to be easily conquered, and the Roman generals who were sent against him did not seem to be able to bring the trouble to an end. At last Marius, who was with one of the generals as second in command, became very impatient over this delay in crushing Jugurtha, and resolved to go to Rome and try to get the command for himself.

Now Marius was very well liked by the common soldiers because he had been one of themselves, and also because he ate the same coarse food and slept upon the same beds that they did, and would often help them with his own hands in digging ditches and throwing up earthworks. But the general of the army laughed at him * because of his low birth; and when Marius applied to him for permission to go to Rome to become a candidate for consul, he said:

"It will be time enough for you to become candidate for consul when my young son does."

This angered Marius; and when he came to Rome he told the people how slowly the war was going on and how much better he could carry it on. As he was one of themselves, the common people believed him and elected him consul, and by a special vote they gave him the command of the army against Jugurtha.

When Marius returned to Africa, he found that it was more difficult to bring the war to an end than he had expected. But at last Jugurtha was betrayed to him by one of his own household, and then Marius ended the war and brought the king captive to Rome.

No sooner was this war over than another one broke out which threatened the Romans with such a terrible danger that they elected Marius consul a second time to meet this new enemy; and then they elected him a third time, and a fourth time, and at last he was consul five times before the danger was past. It began to look as if the old prophecy would come true.

This new war was with a fierce and numerous people who came from the northeast and overran Gaul and threatened to pass over into Italy. They were called by several names, but they were probably Germans, and belonged to the same family of nations from which the Germans of to-day, the English, and most of the Americans are descended. They had large, strong bodies, and fierce blue eyes, and they terrified the Romans more even than the Gauls had done two hundred and eighty years before. Like the Gauls, they came in great numbers, carrying their wives and children and all their possessions with them in rude, covered wagons, and wandered about looking for a new home in which to settle.

The Romans first met these newcomers in that part of Gaul which had come under Roman rule. There four great armies of the Romans were destroyed one after the other. Then it was that Marius was elected consul a second time, and sent into Gaul to take the command and keep these Germans from crossing the Alps and coming into Italy.

Fortunately for the Romans, the barbarians turned aside into Spain after their last great victory, and wandered about in that country for two or three years. Thus Marius had time to get together a new army, and to drill his men and make them good soldiers. When the barbarians came back from Spain, they separated and one band of them started to go north around the Alps and enter Italy from the east, while the others remained in Gaul, and tried to enter the peninsula from the western side.

Even after so large a part of the Germans had left Gaul, Marius did not dare to lead his men out of camp against those that remained. For six days he let them march continuously past his c& and as they went by they shouted taunts to the Romans and asked whether they had any messages to send to their wives. Then when the last of this band, too, had disappeared, Marius led his army out, and followed after them.

He came up with them just before they reached the Alps. By this time Marius had his soldiers so well trained that he decided to risk a battle. The result was a great victory for the Romans; for this band of the barbarians was entirely destroyed, and their kings were made captives.

Then Marius hurried on into Italy and marched to the aid of the other consul, who had been sent to meet the band who were seeking to enter the peninsula from the east. This consul was not so good a general as Marius, so the barbarians succeeded in getting into Italy on that side. When Marius arrived, they sent to him and demanded lands in Italy on which they and their brethren, whom they had left in Gaul, might settle. Then Marius showed them the captives who had been taken there, and said:

"Do not trouble yourselves for your brethren, for we have already provided lands for them which they shall possess forever."

Then the Germans were filled with grief and with anger, for they knew that their brethren had been destroyed. But the chiefs of their army challenged Marius to fix the time and place for a battle; and Marius named the third day after, that for the day, and a broad plain nearby for the place. When the battle came, the Germans fought with great bravery, and their women, standing in the wagons, encouraged their husbands and brothers with fierce cries; but at last the Romans were victorious and this band also of the barbarians was destroyed.

After this Marius returned to Rome, and there he was received with great honor and rejoicing. And men called him the third founder of the city; for, they said, just as Camillus saved Rome from the Gauls, so Marius had saved it from these new invaders. And soon after he was elected consul for the sixth time.

If Marius had been a statesman as well as a soldier, he might now have used his power to remedy the evils which the Gracchi had tried to cure, and so have saved the state. But though Marius could win battles, he could not rule the state in time of peace. Long after this, men said of him that he never cared to be a good man, so he was a great one;" and perhaps that is the reason he failed as a ruler. At any rate, Marius hesitated to take either the side of the common people, or of the nobles, for he wished only to do the thing that would benefit himself. In this way Marius lost the influence which he had gained by his victories; and for twelve years the conqueror of the Germans was despised and neglected by both parties.

SULLA.

At last civil war began between the party of the common people and the party of the nobles. The nobles had a famous general named Sulla to command their army; so the leaders of the common people chose Marius, although he was then nearly seventy years old, to be their general. Marius had long been jealous of Sulla, and besides he was eager to gain the seventh consulship that had been promised him, so he accepted the command. But at first the party of Sulla got the better of the party of Marius; and when Sulla marched on Rome, the city was taken by his army. This was the first time that Rome was ever captured by an army of its own citizens, but it was not to be the last time.

When Rome was taken by Sulla, Marius escaped with much difficulty. For many days he wandered about Italy with only a few companions. At one time they barely escaped a party of horsemen on the shore by swimming out to some ships which were sailing by. At another time they lay hid in a marsh with the mud and water up to their necks. Once Marius was taken prisoner and the officers of the town where he was imprisoned sent a Gaulish slave to kill him in his dungeon; but Marius's eyes gleamed so fiercely in the darkness as he called out in a loud voice, "Fellow, darest thou kill Caius Marius?" that the slave dropped his sword and fled. Then the officers of the town were ashamed, and they let Marius go; and he escaped to Carthage in Africa. But even there he was not safe, for the Roman governor of that district sent men to warn him to leave; and when the men had told their message, Marius replied: "Go, tell the governor that you have seen Caius Marius sitting in exile among the ruins of Carthage."

At last Sulla was obliged to leave Italy and go to Asia Minor to make war on a powerful king who had arisen there. Then the friends of Marius got control of Rome once more; and Marius could safely return. When he came back his heart was filled with bitterness against his enemies, and he caused thousands of them to be put to death without trial or hearing; and even his friends came to fear this gloomy and revengeful old man.

At this time Marius gained his seventh consulship; but he did not live long to enjoy it. He fell into strange ways, and could not sleep at night; perhaps his conscience was troubling him for all the suffering he had caused. At last he died, on the seventeenth day of his seventh consulship; and all the world breathed freer when he was gone.

But soon Sulla returned from the East, and when he had regained his power he took a terrible revenge on all the friends of Marius: Many persons were put to death only because someone of Sulla's friends desired their goods. And the Italian cities which had rebelled against Rome in this time of trouble were punished with great severity; and so terribly was Italy wasted that it seemed as if Hannibal had come again.

Cicero, the Orator

At the time that the war with Jugurtha was coming to an end, a boy was born at Marius's old home near Rome, who was to become as famous as Marius, but in a better and nobler way. He was to be a great orator and writer, and rule the state by his speaking as others ruled it by force of arms. As it takes more training to be great in this way than it does to be great as a soldier, perhaps you would like to hear how this boy was educated for his task. We will start with him as, a tiny baby and follow him until he is a grown man.

First of all came the naming of the boy. This always took place on the eighth day after its birth, if the baby was a girl, but on the ninth day if the baby was a boy. So on the ninth day our baby was named, and he was given the name of his father and called "Marcus Tullius Cicero." The day was made a day of rejoicing in the family, and little gifts were hung about the baby's neck for him to play with.

After that the little fellow grew as most babies grow, and in time he learned to walk, and to talk in childish Latin. Perhaps,, too, he began to speak Greek, even this early, from listening to the talk of some old slave or nurse of that country, for the Roman boys and girls of this time often learned Greek in their homes just as American children sometimes learn German.

During his earliest years it was the child's mother who had the most to do with his education, just as you have seen Cornelia training her children. From his mother the boy learned to be pure in heart, and to be saving, modest, brave, earnest and obedient; and stories were told him of his forefathers, and of the ancient heroes who had made Rome great because they possessed these virtues.

When he became a little older and did not need the care of his mother so much, the father also began to take part in the education of young Marcus. Often he would take the little fellow with him, as he walked about to see that the slaves were cultivating his fields properly; and when he went to the house of a friend, and even sometimes when he went to the Forum of the little town where he lived, he would let the boy go with him. He taught the boy, too, manly exercises such as wrestling, riding and swimming. And when prayers were said to the gods by the father, and when sacrifices were offered on the family altar, the little boy stood by, or perhaps took some part in them; and so he learned about the gods that the Romans worshiped.

When Marcus Cicero became six or seven years old, it was time for him to begin to go to school. Because the schools in Rome were better than the schools in the country town where his parents lived, the boy was now taken to Rome to live with his uncle's family, and to go to school with his cousins.

The Roman schools were very different from the schools you go to. They began at sunrise, and in order not to be tardy the children had to be up and ready before daybreak. They carried lanterns with them to light their way, and slaves went with them to and from school to see that no harm befell them.

ROMAN BOOKS AND WRITING MATERIALS

Julius Caesar, the Conqueror of Gaul

Caius Julius Caesar belonged to a noble family, but he was a nephew of Marius by marriage, and it was this perhaps that caused him first to act with the party of the people,

He was little more than a boy when the parties of Sulla and Marius were carrying on their terrible struggles for the mastery, and he had taken no part in these troubles. But when Sulla had overcome the party of Marius, and was putting to death all persons whom he regarded as the enemies of his own party, he wished to include young Caesar in the number. The Vestal Virgins, however, and some of Sulla's firmest friends, went to him and begged that Caesar's life might be spared, because of his youth and his noble birth. For a long time they pleaded in vain, but at last Sulla gave way.

JULIUS CAESAR.

"Let him be spared, then, as you wish," he said; "but I would have you know that there is many a Marius in this young man, for whose safety you are so anxious; and you will find, someday, that he will be the ruin of the party of the nobles to which you and I all belong."

After this narrow escape Caesar did not dare to stay longer at Rome. He went to the lands about the eastern end of the Mediterranean Sea, and joined the camp of a Roman general who was carrying on one of the wars, which the Romans were now waging nearly all the time in that region. Here Caesar got his first training in war; and one day he showed such bravery in saving the life of a fellow soldier, that the general in command of the army presented him with a crown of oak leaves. This, as you will remember from the story of Coriolanus, was a great mark of honor among the Romans.

After Sulla was dead, Caesar returned to Rome; but he did not remain there long. He decided that he wanted to be an orator as well as a soldier, so he went to Greece, as Cicero had done, to study the art of writing and speaking.

While Caesar was on his way to Greece, he had an adventure which shows very well the sort of man that he was. The ship that he was on was captured by pirates, and Caesar was told by them that he must pay a large sum of money before they would let him go. He at once sent his servants to raise this sum, but in the meantime he had to stay with the pirates at their island home.

They were desperate men, who considered the crime of murder a trifling act; but Caesar seemed to have no fear of them, and even showed his contempt for them quite freely. When he wished to sleep, he would order them to be silent while he did so; at other times he would join in their rough play and exercise. To help pass away the time till his servants should return, he wrote poems and speeches, and spoke them to these ignorant men; and when they did not show pleasure in what he recited he frankly called them "dunces" and "barbarians." They took all this from Caesar with great good-humor, for they liked his fearless spirit; and when he threatened to punish them, as soon as he was free, for their piracy and crimes, they laughed and thought this a great joke.

When his money had come, however, and he was set free, the first thing that Caesar did was to carry out this threat. He gathered together some ships and men, and returned to the island where the pirates stayed. He found their vessels still at anchor there, and in the battle which followed, he not only defeated and captured most of the men, but also recovered the money which he had paid them as a ransom.

At Rome, Caesar led the same sort of life that other wealthy young Romans did at that time. He joined in the gayety of the city, and seemed to think of nothing but that. He was very careful in his dress, and was one of the leaders of the fashion at Rome. This seemed foolish to the grave Cicero, and he once spoke doubtfully of Caesar, wondering if there could really be any earnest purpose in a man who gave so much thought to the arrangement of his hair.

But this was only the outside view of Caesar. He had already set his heart on doing something great, so as to make his name remembered; and he never forgot this purpose. At the very time that Cicero thought him so foolish and careless, Caesar was preparing himself to win the favor of the people • and become their leader. When he began to speak in public, he had taken so much pains to train himself well, that he pleased his hearers from the first; and after his return from Greece, he was looked upon as one of the best orators of Rome. He was friendly and pleasant to everyone, and gave money freely to all who asked for it. In this way he won the favor of the people, and soon he was elected to several offices, one after the other.

Whip Caesar held one of these offices, it was his duty to oversee the public games. The Romans, as you know, had now become very fond of such shows, and they were given a number of times each year. There were many kinds of these games. Some of them were like the Greek games, and were contests in running, wrestling, leaping, and hurling the spear. Others were sham battles, in which little armies of horsemen, infantry, and elephants took part; But the kinds that the Romans liked best were three, the chariot races, the fights with wild beasts, and the contests of gladiators.

The chariot- races were held in a race course called the Great Circus, which lay between the Palatine hill and the hill which stood south of it. Each chariot was usually drawn by four horses, and four chariots took part in each race. The driver of each chariot wore a different colored gown, one white, one red, one blue, and one green; and the people took such interest in these races, that they divided into parties over them. In this way there arose a party of the Greens, who always favored the driver who wore that color, and a party of the Blues, who favored the one in blue, and so on; and sometimes the people became so excited by the races that the different parties actually came to blows about them.

The chariot races were very old, indeed, it was said that Romulus first started them; but the wild-beast fights were not introduced until after the second war with Carthage. Then the Romans began to turn loose elephants, lions, leopards, and other beasts, in the "arena" of the Circus (as the central part of it was called), and set men to hunt them for the amusement of the spectators. In this way four hundred lions were once turned loose at the same time.

CHARIOT RACE.

But the shows which the people liked best of all were the fights of the gladiators. The gladiators were men who were trained to fight to amuse the Romans; and they were usually captives who had been taken in war, or slaves who had been sold to the trainers of gladiators as a punishment. Most often they fought together in single pairs. Sometimes they were both armed in the same way, with helmet, shield, and sword. Sometimes, however, one only would be armed in this way, and the other would have nothing but a three-pointed spear with which to thrust at his enemy, and a net to throw over his head and entangle him. When one of the gladiators became wounded, the fight stopped until the will of the people

had been made known. If they held their thumbs up, he was spared; but if they turned their thumbs so that they pointed downward, he was at once put to death.

GLADIATOR FIGHT.

The government was supposed to furnish the money to provide for these games, but the custom had arisen for the overseers of the games to add to them at their own expense. So when Caesar was overseer he determined to furnish finer games than had ever been seen before. In this he succeeded. Everybody said that there had never been more or better gladiator fights or finer wild-beast hunts than those he furnished. The statues and pictures, too, which he provided to decorate the Forum and the temples on the Capitol, during the time that the games were being held, were so numerous that places had to be found elsewhere to exhibit many of them.

Caesar spent such large sums of his own money on these shows that he came out of the office very heavily in debt; but he had succeeded in his purpose. He had made the people think him generous and public-spirited; so when he became a candidate for the consulship sometime after this, they gladly supported him. The nobles, however, did not like Caesar so well, and they opposed his election, for they were already beginning to fear his power over the people. But at this time there was a powerful man at Rome who could help Caesar very much with his election, if he would, and he needed Caesar's help as much as Caesar needed his.

This man was named Pompey, and he was called "the Great" because of his deeds in war. At one time he had put down a dangerous rebellion in Spain. After that he had helped to put down a rebellion of gladiators, who had fled in large numbers to Mount Vesuvius in Italy, and formed a strong camp there. Then, sometime after Caesar's adventure with the pirates, Pompey had been given a great fleet and had been commissioned to make war on the pirates. With this fleet he had started in at the Straits of Gibraltar, and searched every nook and corner of the Mediterranean Sea, and swept all the pirates before him till he reached the coast of Asia; there he defeated them in one great battle, and so cleared the seas of pirates for many years. After that, Pompey had been given the command in a war with a king who ruled on the southern shore of the Black Sea; and in this war also he had been successful. So at last Pompey had come back to Rome with much honor, and was given a great triumph by the people; but the nobles looked upon him with suspicion, and refused to reward his soldiers, and to approve the arrangements which he had made for the conquered country in the East.

This vexed Pompey very much; so he joined with Caesar, and they agreed to help each other in gaining what they each wanted. In this way Pompey got lands for his soldiers and had his acts in the East approved; and Caesar got his election as consul. After his year as consul was up, and it was time for him to go as governor to one of the provinces, as was the custom, Caesar was appointed governor of Gaul for five years. And before that time was up, by a new agreement between the two men, Caesar was given another term of five years as governor of Gaul, while Pompey was appointed to govern Spain for an equal time.

The Senators were not sorry to see Caesar go to Gaul, for they hoped that during his long absence from the city, the fickle people of Rome might forget him, and so leave him without influence when he returned; or, if this should not happen, they hoped at any rate that something might occur in the meantime to make his influence less dangerous to the party of the nobles.

At this time there were two districts which the Romans called by the name of Gaul, and Caesar was given command over both of these. One was on the Italian side of the Alps, and included the lands in the valley of the River Po, on which those Gauls had lived who welcomed Hannibal when he came into Italy. This was called "Cis-Alpine Gaul," or "Gaul on this side of the Alps." The other lay on the other side of the Alps, in what is now southern France, and this was called "Trans-Alpine Gaul."

Cis-Alpine Gaul had been conquered for some time, but in Trans-Alpine Gaul the power of the Romans did not extend beyond a little strip of land in the southern part, where the country touches the Mediterranean Sea. Moreover, the affairs of Gaul beyond the Alps had been neglected by the Romans during the struggles that had taken place at Rome, and when Caesar reached his provinces he found that troubles were beginning there which needed his immediate attention.

Caesar learned that a large body of people who lived in the valleys of the Alps, had determined to leave their homes among the mountains, and search out new ones in the western part of Gaul. They had burned their towns and villages, so that their people could have no wish to return to their old homes, and they were now ready to start on their journey through the Roman province, carrying their families and their goods with them.

The march of so large a body of the Swiss through Trans-Alpine Gaul might mean the beginning of much trouble for the Romans; so Cesar determined that they must be stopped before they had gone any farther from their homes. He crossed the Alps in haste, therefore, and sent word to the Swiss forbidding them to march through his province. Then, when they tried in spite of this to force their way out of the mountains, he defeated them in a terrible battle; and sent them back to their own country, to rebuild their burned homes and settle upon their own lands once more.

This great victory gave Caesar's soldiers confidence in their new commander; and it also caused many of the neighboring tribes of Gaul to submit to him, and become friends to the Roman people.

Soon after this the chiefs of one of these tribes appealed to Caesar for aid in a trouble of their own; and begged him to help them against a tribe of Germans, who had lately crossed the Rhine, and come into Gaul. These Germans had already conquered a part of the country, and were inviting other German tribes to cross the river and join them in overrunning the whole of Gaul. This would have been more dangerous even than to have had the Swiss passing through the country in search of new homes; so Caesar determined to give the help that was asked of him, and send the Germans also back to their own lands.

But while Caesar was preparing to march against the Germans, his army began to give him trouble. The Gauls and the Roman traders who passed through the camp, told marvelous tales of the great size of the Germans, and of the fierceness of their appearance, and of their skill with their weapons. When Caesar's soldiers heard these stories, and when it was whispered among them that they were about to march against the Germans, they began to fear this people as much as Marius's soldiers had done before them. Some of the young officers, who had had little experience in war, even began to make excuses to be allowed to return to Rome; others, who were ashamed to leave the army in this way, made their wills, and went about the camp with tears streaming down their faces. These claimed that it was not the enemy they feared; but that they dreaded the narrowness of the roads, and the vastness of the forests through which the men would have to pass, and they were afraid, too, that there would not be food enough for the army on its march.

When Caesar heard these things, he called a meeting of his soldiers and rebuked them.

"Is it your business," he asked, "to inquire in what direction we are to march, and what are the plans of your general? Is it your duty to think of the feeding of the army, and the condition of the roads? That is my affair, and not yours; and you should not distrust me so much as to think that I will not attend to it. I suspect, indeed, that it is the enemy that you dread, and not the dangers of the march. But even though you know that you are to fight against the Germans, what is it that you fear in them? They have already been defeated by Marius within the memory of our fathers. The Swiss, whom you have so lately sent back to their homes, have defeated them in their own country. Shall we not be able to do what they have succeeded in doing? I had intended to put off this march of ours to a more distant day; but now I have determined to break up our camp during this very night, so that I may find out as soon as possible whether my soldiers will answer to the call of duty, or give way to fear. If no others will follow me, I shall still go forward with the tenth legion alone; for I know that the men of that legion, at least, are too brave ever to desert their commander."

On hearing these words, the minds of the soldiers were suddenly changed.. The tenth legion sent messengers to him to thank him for his confidence in them; and the soldiers of the other legions made excuses for themselves, and begged him to believe that they would follow him wherever he might wish to go. Caesar accepted their excuses; but that night, as he had said he would, he began the march. And when the army came up with the Germans, and a battle was fought, Caesar easily defeated the enemy and drove them back across the Rhine into their own country.

These two wars were the beginning of Caesar's command in Gaul. In a few months, he had succeeded in saving the country from being overrun by the Swiss and by the Germans; and perhaps he had even kept the barbarians from entering Italy again as in the time of Marius. He remained governor of Gaul for nine years in all, and during that time he conquered all the country from the Rhine west to the Atlantic Ocean, and from the Roman province in the south to the English Channel on the north. He did even more than this. Twice when he wished to overawe the restless tribes of Germany, he quickly built a bridge over the wide and rapid stream of the Rhine, and led his army over to frighten the neighboring tribes into submission; and twice, also, he gathered ships and crossed over into the neighboring island of Great Britain, to make war upon the tribes that lived there and punish them for having interfered in the affairs of Gaul.

Caesar was the first Roman general to lead an army into either Germany or Britain; and although he made no serious attempt to subdue these countries himself, he prepared the way for the conquest of Britain, at least, in the time that was to come. In Gaul, however, he completely conquered the country. When he left that land its people had already settled down quietly under the Roman rule, and they were beginning to learn the Roman customs and the Roman language. So thoroughly did they learn these that they became almost like the Romans themselves, and even to-day the language that is spoken in that land the French language is merely a form of the old Latin tongue, which their Roman conquerors spoke nearly two thousand years ago.

One of the things that helped Caesar most in this great work of conquest, was his power over the common soldiers. During all the years that they fought under him in Gaul, they never once repeated the threat of disobedience, which they had made when he first proposed to lead them against the Germans. From that time on they were entirely devoted to him, for they had confidence in him. He was willing to share every danger and hardship with his soldiers, and when he made a speech to them he called them "Fellow soldiers," to show that he was one of them. In the marches with his army, he used to go at the head of his troops, sometimes on horseback, but oftener on foot, with his head bare in all kinds of weather. At the beginning of a battle, he often sent his horse away, so that he might lead his men on foot. If they began to give way during the fight he would go among them and stop those that were flying, and turn them towards the enemy again; and so by courage and determination he would change defeat into victory.

Caesar was both mild and strict in his control of his men. After they had won the victory he would allow them to rest and make merry; but before the battle had been fought and the victory decided, he demanded unceasing watchfulness and entire obedience. He would give no notice of battle till the last moment, in order that the soldiers might always hold themselves in readiness for it; and, for the same reason, he would often lead his men out of their camp, when there was no need of it, even in rainy weather and on holidays. Sometimes, either by day or night, he would suddenly give them orders to follow without losing sight of him; and then lead them on long marches in order to test their strength, and to prepare them for doing the same thing whenever there might be real necessity for it. In this way, long before Caesar's nine years in Gaul were over, he had an army of veterans, every man of whom was willing to follow him into any danger.

While Caesar was still in Gaul, he wrote the account of his struggles with the barbarians, and sent it to Rome, so that the people might know of the successes of his army. Many of the Roman books have been lost, but this account of Caesar's wars in Gaul is so well written and so interesting that it was carefully saved, and if you should ever study Latin, this will be almost the first book that you will read.

Caesar and the Beginning of the Empire

During the years of Caesar's life in Gaul, the misgovernment of Rome had steadily been growing worse. The elections for consuls could not be held without disorder, and the candidates for office went about with bands of armed men for their protection. Sometimes these bands actually fought at the voting places; and once the election of consuls was prevented, by these quarrels, for six months after the proper time. Thus the Romans were not only failing to rule their provinces justly,—as you have seen was so in the case of Verres in Sicily, but the city itself was now filled with confusion and violence; and many wise and thoughtful men became willing to end the disorder in any way that was possible.

At this time, Cicero was trying to cure the evils of the government by urging the people of Rome to be as unselfish and virtuous as their forefathers had been. His efforts failed, for the people were not willing to believe that their greed and selfishness were ruining their country; and, perhaps, if they had believed it, they could not have changed themselves in order to make their government better. They had no idea of reforming the government by giving it the representative form such as we have now; so the only cure that remained was for the government by the Senate to give way to that of one strong man, who could put down disorder and punish misgovernment.

But where was the strong man to be found who could, and would, force the Senate to step aside and let him carry on the government? To do this, it was necessary that he should have an army, for the Senate would certainly not give up its power without a struggle. Now there were only two men at this time who had armies which they could use in this way. One of them was Pompey, the conqueror of the pirates and the East; the other was Caesar, the conqueror of Gaul.

Pompey might long ago have overturned the government of the Senate, if he had really wanted to do so. But though he could win battles, he did not know much about government, and could not make up his mind what he wanted to do. Caesar, on the other hand, was as good at politics as he was at war. He had long seen that the old government was so bad that it could only be cured by setting up another in its place; and he was quite ready to try to do this himself, if the chance should come to him.

For a while Caesar and Pompey had acted together, and had helped each other in politics. But when news came to Pompey at Rome of the splendid victories which Caesar was winning in Gaul, he began to be jealous of him, and at last he was ready to join with the party of the nobles in any plan that would destroy Caesar's power.

As you will remember, it had been agreed that Caesar was to have his command in Gaul for ten years. When that time should be up, he had arranged that he should be elected consul again. That would give him an army as consul, just as soon as he laid down the command of his army in Gaul; and when his year as consul was up, he would go to one of the provinces as the head of another army for a long term of years. In this way there would be no time when Caesar would not have an army at his command; and so the nobles would not be able to injure him, or put him to death, as they had put Tiberius and Caius Gracchus to death.

The plan which the nobles and Pompey formed, to get rid of Caesar, was this. They would make him give up his government in Gaul before his last five years were over; then, perhaps, when Caesar had no army to protect him against injustice, they would bring him to trial before the courts at Rome on some charge any charge would do and have him convicted. In this way they would get rid of him, and the selfish government of the Senate could go on as before.

To carry out this plan, the Senate ordered Caesar to give up his governorship, and return to Rome. Caesar knew that he could not trust himself there without an army to protect him; still, he made an offer to the Senate to give up his command, if Pompey, who was then at Rome with an army nearby, would give up his command also. The Senate replied that Caesar must give up his army, or become a traitor to his country; and that Pompey need not give up his.

Caesar now saw that his enemies were planning to destroy him; but to resist them meant the beginning of a civil war between himself and Pompey. Nevertheless, he prepared to lead his victorious army across the little river Rubicon, which separated Cis-Alpine Gaul from Italy, and march south to attack his enemies.

The old stories say that after Caesar had drawn up his men on the banks of the river he stood for some time in deep thought, questioning whether it was the wisest thing, after all, for him to go in arms against the government of his country. While he stood in doubt, a wandering minstrel nearby suddenly seized a trumpet from one of the soldiers and sounded the call to advance. Caesar took this as a sign from the gods, and exclaimed:

"Let us go whither the gods and the wickedness of our enemies call us. The die is now cast."

ROMAN SOLDIERS.

Then he led his veteran soldiers across the Rubicon and marched south to meet the army of Pompey.

Pompey meanwhile had made almost no preparations for the war. When someone had asked him what he would do if Caesar should march into Italy, Pompey had replied:

"I have but to stamp my foot, and soldiers will spring up all over Italy to fill the legions of my army."

But after Caesar had crossed the Rubicon, news was soon brought to Rome that the Italian towns were yielding to him without a struggle; and when one of the Senators taunted Pompey with his vain boast, and asked him why he did not stamp his foot, the latter could find no answer. It was too late now to raise men to save Rome; so Pompey had to leave the city to its fate. He retreated with his army to the south of Italy; but Caesar promptly followed him. Then, rather than to fight in Italy, Pompey crossed over into Greece; for his influence was strongest there and in the East, where his greatest victories had been won. Caesar could now follow him no further, for some time for want of ships to carry his men across the sea.

Caesar, accordingly, now turned back to Rome, having driven his enemies from Italy in sixty days, without the shedding of a drop of blood. At Rome he treated the people mildly and generously, and the men who had feared that the terrible times of Sulla and Marius had come again, soon saw that they were mistaken. Caesar punished no one, and he took the property of none. He remained in the city only a short time, and then, although Pompey himself had gone to the East, Caesar set out for Spain, where the greatest part of Pompey's army had been left.

"I go," he said, "to attack an army without a general; I shall return to attack a general without an army."

After some difficulty, Caesar succeeded in getting possession of the Roman provinces in Spain. He now had Gaul, Italy and Spain under his control, and he could turn all his efforts against Pompey and the forces in the East.

He now led his army back through Italy by rapid marches; and, although it was by this time the middle of winter, he immediately crossed into Greece. Then, for about four months, the two armies marched and countermarched? and built camps and threw up earthworks. During all this time Pompey's army was larger than Caesar's; and it was better fed and better cared for also, as Pompey's ships could bring him everything that he needed, while Caesar's men had to live off the country around them. For a long time Caesar tried to bring on a battle, but without success; for Pompey knew that though he had the larger number of men, Caesar had the better soldiers.. At last, however, Pompey yielded to the urging and flattery of his followers, and drew out his men for battle. The result was a great victory for Caesar. Although Pompey had twice as many men as Caesar had, he was defeated and his army was destroyed. .

After this battle, Pompey was forced to fly from Greece and seek refuge in Egypt. There he was basely murdered by men who wished to please Caesar, and thought that this would be the surest way of winning his favor. But when Caesar followed Pompey to Egypt, and was shown the proofs of his death, he did not rejoice, but turned away his face and wept. To all the men who had been in Pompey's army, he showed himself kind and generous; and he wrote to his friends at Rome that "the chief pleasure he had in his victory was in saving every day some one of his fellow citizens who had borne arms against him."

After Caesar's victory over Pompey, he established his power firmly in Greece, Egypt and Asia, as he had already done in the western part of the Mediterranean countries. When he returned to Rome, Africa was the only portion of the Roman Empire that remained unconquered; and all of Caesar's enemies who were left had gathered there. For a time Caesar remained at Rome to attend to public affairs; but as soon as he could, he arranged to go to Africa and conquer this last army of his enemies.

But Caesar's soldiers were wearied with marching from one end of the world to the other. The tenth legion, which had served him so long and well, at last rebelled, and the men demanded that they should be dismissed with the rewards that were due them for their long services. When Caesar heard this, he went out to meet them, and said, coldly:

"Citizens, you shall be dismissed as you desire, and you shall have all the rewards which have been promised you."

When the soldiers heard their beloved commander call them "citizens," instead of "fellow soldiers," as always before, their minds were suddenly changed. They could not bear the cold disapproval which lay in that word. They begged that they might be taken back into his service again; and after that, there was no longer any talk of disobedience on their part.

Caesar was as successful in defeating his enemies in Africa as he had been everywhere else, and when he returned to Rome, he was able to celebrate four triumphs, one after the other, for his victories in Gaul, in Egypt, in Asia, and in Africa. On the day of his triumph over Gaul, he ascended the Capitol at night, with twenty elephants carrying torches on his right hand, and twenty on his left. When he triumphed because of his victories in Asia, an inscription was carried before his chariot which read in Latin, "I came, I saw, I conquered"; this was copied from a message which Caesar had sent to the Senate to announce one of his victories, and it was intended to remind the people how quickly he had ended the troubles in that region.

CAESAR'S TRIUMPH.

Caesar was now master of Rome and of her empire. The Roman army, made up of men of all countries, was the strongest power in the state; and Caesar, who controlled the army, was the first man in the empire. He could now make whatever reforms in the state he thought best. As the Senate and the people had shown so plainly that they were no longer fit for the task of governing the peoples under their rule, he decided to carry on the government himself. He allowed the Senate and the assemblies of the people to meet as before, but he took good care to see that they had no real power. He gathered most of the offices of the state into his own hands; and, besides the titles which went with these offices, he gave himself the name of "Emperor," or commander, and that in time came to be the highest title of all.

Caesar used his great power well. Instead of treating those who had fought against him as Sulla and Marius had treated their enemies, he tried to make them his friends, and allowed them to hold offices under him. There were still some men left who were determined to defy him to the last, and these joined together in Spain under the sons of Pompey, and Caesar was compelled to leave Rome, and lead the army against them himself before they were finally defeated. But the greater part of the people of Rome were satisfied with the rule of Caesar, because it promised to give the peace and safety which they had not enjoyed for many years.

Cesar lived for only two years after the four-fold triumph which followed his return from Africa. In those two years, however, he succeeded in doing much good for Rome. He made laws for the reform of the courts of justice, and others to enable men who were in debt, and could not pay, to settle with their creditors. He tried to reform the manners of life of the Romans by passing laws against extravagance in dress and in banquets. He tried to check the growth of slave labor by requiring that one-third of the laborers on sheep-farms must be free. He planned new colonies to provide for the poor and idle population of Rome; and he passed laws to admit many of the subjects of Rome to an equality with the citizens of the city itself.

Another of the reforms which he carried out is of especial interest to us, because the civilized world to day still profits by it. This was the reform of the calendar. The Romans divided the year into twelve months, as we do; but their months were not long enough, so they had an awkward way of putting in an extra month about every two years, to make the seasons come out right. This plan worked badly, and, by the time of Caesar, the calendar and the real year of the earth's revolution around the sun, had become ninety days apart. As a result of this, the Italian farmer began his work in the fields in June and July, according to the calendar, when it was really March and April. Caesar consulted the most learned men of his time, and the calendar was corrected and made to agree with the seasons. Then, to keep it right in the future, Caesar increased the length of some of the months, so that the ordinary year should have three hundred and sixty-five days; and he arranged that every fourth year, or leap year, an extra day should be given to February. The calendar after this worked very well, and with one small change we use it to this day, with the Roman names for the months and all; and to keep in memory the part which Caesar had in this reform, we still call one of the months "July" from his name, Julius.

Besides these various reforms, Caesar planned many other important works. He planned to collect a large library at Rome, and this was at a time when books were very rare and costly. He was beginning a new theater, and planning to build a new Senate house, as the old one had been burned in the terrible disorders of the late wars. A great temple to Mars was to keep the memory of his victories fresh in the minds of the people. At the mouth of the Tiber, an immense harbor was to be built, and a new road was to lead east through the mountains to the Adriatic Sea. And in the midst of all this he was preparing to lead armies against the barbarians on the Danube, and against those south of the Caspian Sea in Asia; for in both these regions the peoples were forcing their way out of their own lands and seeking to come into the Roman provinces.

But all these plans were left unfinished or were not even begun. Although Rome was now better off than it had been at any time for fifty years, there were some men among her citizens who still thought that there was nothing more shameful than to submit to the rule of one man. They longed for the old government of the Senate with all its faults. At last sixty of the nobles formed a plot to kill Caesar, and so free themselves from his power in the only way that was possible. Almost all of these men had received favors from Caesar, and one of them, Marcus Brutus, had been admitted to close friendship with him. But crafty and selfish men persuaded Brutus that it was his duty to his country to overthrow Caesar, just as his ancestor had overthrown Tarquin long before. So Brutus joined the plot and became one of its leaders.

Caesar was warned of the danger that threatened him, but he would have no guards about him.

"It is better to die once," he said, "than to live always in fear of death."

He had been warned especially to beware of the day which the Romans called the "Ides" of March; but on that day he went to the Senate house as usual. On the way there he saw the priest who had told him to beware of the day; and he laughed at him for a false prophet, because the ides of March had come and nothing had befallen him. But the priest answered:

"The day is come, Caesar, but it is not yet gone."

When Caesar entered the Senate house, all the Senators arose to greet him, as was their custom. Then the plotters advanced to Caesar's chair, one of them pretending to beg a favor of him, while the rest appeared to urge Caesar to grant this request.

Suddenly one of the plotters laid hold of Caesar's toga, and dragged it from his shoulders. This was a signal for the others, and at once they fell upon Caesar with their swords and daggers. For a moment Caesar resisted them, but when he saw his friend Brutus striking at him among the number, he cried out:

"Thou, too, Brutus.!"

With this he ceased his struggles; and wrapping his head in his toga, he fell, pierced with many wounds, at the foot of the statue of Pompey which stood in the Senate house.

Thus died one of the greatest men who ever lived in any country or at any time. There have been many men in the world who have been great in one way; but Caesar was great in many ways. He was a better general, perhaps, than any man before or since his time; but he was more than this. He was a good writer and one of the best orators among the Romans. He was a wise ruler, who saw clearly what his country needed in many different lines, and who spent the short time during which he held the power in planning reforms and improvements for her benefit. But best of all, he had a generous and fearless spirit, and found it easy to forgive those who had injured him, and easier to die than to dread to die.

He was worthy to become, as he did, the first of a long line of Roman emperors. He has made his name, too, a word of honor in the world to this day; for when the Germans call their emperor "Kaiser," they merely give him Caesar's name; and when the Russians speak of their ruler as the "Czar," they, too, are using the name of this great Roman.

Rome in the Time of Augustus

The enemies of Caesar were able to put him to death, but they could not bring back the Republic, which he had overthrown. After Caesar was gone, the quarrels and struggles which he had brought to an end began once more. Caesar had left no son to succeed him, but when his will was opened it was found that he had adopted his nephew Octavius as his son, and made him his heir.

Octavius was not yet nineteen years old, but he soon showed that he possessed wisdom which was beyond his years. He accepted the inheritance and set himself to work to secure his rights under it. After many difficulties, he succeeded in doing this. Then he set to work to secure the punishment of Caesar's murderers. This required much time and care, on the part of Octavius; but at last they were defeated in battle and slain, and thus he succeeded in this also. Then he began to plan to secure Caesar's power in the empire for himself, as Caesar's successor. This was the hardest thing that he had yet attempted, for there were other men who were trying to get as much power as they could, and Octavius had to struggle against them. In the end, however, he succeeded in getting what he wanted. All of his rivals were got rid of, except one; then, twelve years after the death of Caesar, Octavius won a great battle over this man, and became master of the whole Roman world.

For a hundred years—ever since the time of the Gracchi—the party of the people and the party of the nobles had been struggling together, but neither one could find a cure for the troubles that filled the Roman lands. The world was now worn out with these struggles. The time had come when both the nobles and the people must finally yield to the rule of one man, with an army to carry out his commands. In this way alone could peace and order and happiness be brought to the millions of people who were under the Roman rule. Octavius established the rule of the empire, which Caesar had begun; and he established it so firmly that it lasted undisturbed for five hundred years after him. From the time that Octavius got the power, there was no longer any question as to what form of government there should be; the only question was, who should be the one to carry on the government under the form of rule that he had set up.

When Octavius became emperor he took the name "Augustus," and it is by that name that we must now speak of him. He was a good ruler, and during the many years that he governed the empire, the world about the Mediterranean was happier than it had ever been before. The doors of the temple of Janus, which had been shut only three times since Rome was founded, were now closed again for long periods; for peace "the Roman peace," as it was proudly called—was spread over the world. From Spain to Greece, from Gaul to Egypt, there was no longer any war. Travelers came and went in safety on the great roads with which the Romans had covered the world; the farmers sowed and reaped their fields in peace, and the merchants sent out their goods by land and sea and had no cause to fear that an enemy might arise to rob them of their gains.

AUGUSTUS CAESAR

Augustus decided that the empire was now as large as it ought ever to become. He fixed the rivers Rhine and Danube as the boundaries, on the north, beyond which the Romans should not seek to rule; and he caused a chain of forts to be built along these rivers to defend the Roman lands against the attacks of the wild tribes who lived beyond. Nearly all the emperors who came after Augustus respected these limits. Almost the only land that was added to the empire after this time was the island of Britain, and Julius Caesar, you will remember, had already prepared the way for its conquest while he was conquering Gaul.

At Rome, Augustus had many new temples built, and many of the old ones, which were falling into decay, he caused to be repaired and covered over with a facing of marble. Before he died, he could say, in speaking of this work:

"I found Rome built of brick, but I leave it built of marble."

Augustus was also fond of encouraging and rewarding poets and other writers. Partly because of this there were more great literary men at Rome during this time than ever before or after; and for this reason whenever we wish to describe a period when literature flourished and great writers lived and wrote, we still call it an "Augustan age."

Let us now try to look, for a little while, into the life of the city in this happy time while it was under the wise rule of Augustus. Of course, we shall want to see something of these great Roman authors, so we will put ourselves for a day in the company of one of the wisest and wittiest of them all, the poet Horatius, or "Horace." We will carefully avoid, too, the days of the great circus shows and games, for we wish to see the ordinary every-day life of the Romans, and not that of their festivals.

TOGA FRONT

The Romans are early risers, so we must be up before sunrise, and make our way to the modest little house of the poet, on the hill that lies east of the Forum. There we find Horace already risen, though usually he is apt to rise later than most of the Romans. To-day, however, he is going to pay a morning visit to his friend and neighbor, Maecenas, so we find him up and dressed by the time that we arrive.

After a light breakfast of bread dipped in wine, and ripe olives, we set out together. As we pass along the narrow streets, we are surprised at the number of people that we meet, though the sun is barely up above the horizon. Some are slaves and servants, hurrying here and there on business of their masters. Others are children on their way to school, with slaves accompanying them, who carry their tablets and satchels. Many, however, are freemen, and are clad in the full-dress toga, which none but a free Roman citizen may wear. These latter persons bustle along with little baskets in their hands and anxious looks upon their faces. They are "clients," we are told, or dependents of great men, who are hurrying to pay their visit of state to their patron at his morning reception; and the little baskets are to fetch away the gifts of food which each day are set out for them in their patron's house.

TOGA BACK

As we approach the splendid mansion of Maecenas, with its beautiful gardens, we see many of these clients going into the house before us; and as we enter we find the outer hall and vestibule full of them. Maecenas is the friend and adviser of Augustus, and his influence in the state is very great; as he is also a liberal and generous man, the number of clients who are dependent on him is quite large. However, we are not worried by the number of these visitors, though they are pushing and shoving to get ahead of one another; for Horace stands on quite a different footing with Maecenas from them, and is admitted at once to the presence of the master of the house.

We enter with him, and find ourselves in a large and stately hall, richly ornamented with pictures and statues. There we find Maecenas receiving the greetings of the more important of his clients, while he advises this one, perhaps, on some point connected with a suit at law, and that one how best to invest his money. As soon as he sees Horace, however, he comes forward with a smile on his face, for he loves Horace and honors him as Rome's greatest poet.

While the two friends talk, we glance about the hall, and admire the graceful marble columns which support the roof. From time to time we catch bits of the conversation between Maecenas and our guide.

"Nay, Maecenas," Horace is saying, "though no one is of a nobler family than yourself, you are not one of those who toss up their heads at men of humble birth. If you had been such a person, I should have had no chance of ever gaining your friendship and aid; for my father, as you know, was born a slave, though he gained his freedom. I shall never be ashamed of my father, however, for though he was a poor man on a lean little farm, he guarded me from bad habits and gave me an education fit for a Senator's son."

After some further talk, Horace takes his leave, and we return with him to his little home. As we enter the house we glance at a sun-dial which stands nearby, and see that it is now near the close of the second hour, or about eight o'clock.

In the Forum, the next three hours are the busiest of the day. Now the judges are seated on the judgment benches and listening to the pleas of the orators in this and that suit at law; and now the crowd of idlers is greatest there. But Horace is not interested in such matters; he quietly enters his library, and there he remains, reading and writing, until near mid-day. Then, a light luncheon of bread, cold meat, fruit and wine is served by the slaves; and after that comes the mid-day rest and nap, which is still common in all warm climates.

HORACE

In the afternoon, we accompany Horace, once more, as he leaves the house and sets out for the heart of the city. As we stroll along, we see groups of children playing in the shadow of the houses. Here girls are playing what looks very much like our game of "jack-stones," except that they use small bones to play it with. Nearby, other girls sit with their dolls, singing lullabies to them; and elsewhere we find groups of active boys, playing with nuts in much the same ways that our boys play with marbles.

As we pass the shops where provisions are sold, Horace stops to ask of the slaves, who have the shops in charge, the prices of herbs and bread; and when he comes to the booth of a fortune teller, he stands listening in the crowd for a while, and smiles at the silly folk who believe all the nonsense that is told them. When we reach the Forum, we find it almost deserted; only a few laggards, like ourselves, are to be seen, and they seem to be on their way toward the open ground by the river.

We follow after them, and soon reach the Field of Mars. Here the armies assemble in time of war, and here, too, we see the voting places where the elections are held each year. But it is nothing of this sort that draws the people now. As we look about us, we see everywhere men of all ages young, old and middle-aged—engaged in games and exercises of some sort; and almost every afternoon, at this time, we could find the same sight. Here men are running, leaping, wrestling, hurling the spear and quoit. Some are practicing feats on horseback; others, armed with heavy shields and stout clubs, are aiming heavy blows at tall posts; and others still are playing games with balls of various kinds and sizes.

For a while Horace takes part in this latter exercise. We join him and throw the ball about until our muscles are tired and our bodies heated with the exercise and the sun. Then, leaving the Field of Mars, we go to refresh ourselves at the baths.

To the Roman, the daily bath was just as important as daily exercise; and many fine and costly buildings, for this purpose, were erected by wealthy men and opened to the people. Some of these came to include within them gardens, columned porches, libraries, and everything that could give one comfort and amusement; and these baths came to be great places of resort for the Roman idlers.

We will go with Horace, however, to one of the smaller and more modest buildings, where baths alone are to be found. There, for a very small sum, we may have a cold, swimming bath, a hot-water bath, or a hot-air bath. We make our choice, and after bathing, and rubbing our bodies with olive oil, we find ourselves much refreshed and the weariness gone from our limbs.

Horace has been invited to dinner, for this evening, to the house of an acquaintance, and we have permission to accompany him there. The water-clocks and sun-dials tell us that it is now nearing the ninth hour, that is, it is about three o'clock so we must hasten, as Roman dinners begin in the middle of the afternoon.

VERGIL.

When we reach the house, we are at once shown into the dining-room. There we find the little company gathered, and among them we recognize Maecenas, whose reception we attended in the early morning. Standing with him, we see a man of fine features and bright eyes, whose face lights up as, now and then, in the course of the conversation, he quotes a verse of poetry. This is the poet Vergil, the friend of Horace, whose great poem, on the fall of Troy, called the Aeneid, is still read and enjoyed by scholars the world over.

In the center of the room we see a small table of maple wood, and about three sides of this are arranged couches or sofas on which the guests are to recline during the dinner. When we have taken our places, three on a couch, slaves advance and take the sandals from off our feet, while others hand around silver basins filled with water, for us to wash our hands. For a moment we wonder at this, then we notice that there are no knives and forks on the table, and learn that we are expected to take our food with our fingers; so we see at once the reason for it.

When our hands have been bathed and dried, slaves enter with a tray containing the first course of the dinner. This is placed on the table in front of us, and then we see it consists of a wild boar roasted whole, with eggs, and lettuce, radishes, olives, and other relishes heaped about it. While we are being helped to these dishes, wine mixed with honey is handed about in golden goblets. After this course many others follow, roast fowls, fresh oysters, fish with strange sauces, blackbirds roasted with their feathers on, pastry made in wonderful shapes, fruits and nuts. And yet this is not a fine banquet, as Roman banquets go; for whole fortunes, at times, are spent by Romans on one entertainment.

Though we took our places at the table at three o'clock, we do not rise from it until near sunset. After the hunger of all is satisfied, basins of water are again passed, and the hands are cleaned after the repast. But the guests still linger about the table, drinking wine weakened with water, playing at games, and engaging in conversation.

As we listen to the talk of the different members of the party, our attention is caught by something that Horace is saying. He is expressing his preference for a life in the country, and saying how much he would rather be at his little farm near Rome, which the generous Maecenas has given him, than in the bustling city.

"Happy is the man," he says, "who tills his little farm with his own oxen, far away from the noise and hurry of the city. He is neither alarmed by the trumpet which calls the soldier to arms, nor frightened by the storms which cause the merchant to fear for his ships at sea. In the spring he trims his vines, stores his honey, and shears his sheep; and when autumn comes, he gathers his pears and the purple grape. He may lie full length on the matted grass under some old tree, and listen to the warbling of the birds in the woods, and the waters gliding by in their deep channels. And when winter comes, with its rains and snows, he may hunt the wild boar with his hounds, or spread nets to take thrushes, and snares to catch hares and cranes."

At last the company breaks up, just as the sun is setting beyond the Tiber. Then all betake themselves to their homes. As the Romans are early risers, they retire early also. Soon after darkness has fallen upon the earth, the greater part of the people in this vast city are buried in slumber, while the darkness of night is broken only here and there by a glimmer of light which shows that in some belated household a lamp still burns; and so our day in Rome comes to an end.

The Empire After Augustus

When Augustus died, the whole empire mourned for him. As time went on, men mourned for him more bitterly than ever; for it was long before they had another ruler as wise and good as he.

The stepson of Augustus became emperor after him, and he was a cruel tyrant who put men to death upon mere suspicion. And the next emperor was half-mad, and once threatened to have his horse made consul, and at another time raised a great army, and marched it hundreds of miles, and then commanded the soldiers to gather the shells upon the sea-beach and carry them back to Rome. After him came a weak and foolish emperor who allowed the cruelest acts to be committed in his name, and then forgot them, and invited the persons to dinner whom he had just had put to death. And then came an emperor named Nero, who was a monster of vanity and cruelty; he was suspected of setting fire to the city and allowing more than two-thirds of it to burn up, in order that he might rebuild it finer than it had been before.

But even under such rulers, the misgovernment scarcely extended beyond the city of Rome itself, and the distant provinces were more prosperous and happy than they had been during the time when the Senate and the people of Rome ruled over them. For a hundred years there was no civil war. Then when one did begin, after the death of Nero, it lasted only a short time, and ended by bringing in a set of emperors, almost every one of whom was as strong and as good as Augustus.

Before this civil war, all the emperors who had ruled had been related in some way to the family of Julius Cesar; but after it, this was no longer the case. The emperors now were usually the leaders of the armies which guarded the different borders of the empire. Like the soldiers whom they commanded, they were often not Romans at all, but had been born and raised in some of the provinces. They did not care so much for the city of Rome and the Romans, therefore; and in course of time the people of Sicily and Spain, and finally of all the provinces, were admitted to have equal rights in the empire with the citizens of Rome itself.

A new plan was found in this period for arranging who should be emperor. The emperor who was ruling would choose the best man he could find, and adopt him as his son; and this son would then share the rule with him while he lived, and would succeed him when he died. In this way the empire had a hundred years of the best rule that it was ever to know.. Indeed, the people who dwell about the Mediterranean have never seen, before or since, a time of such unbroken happiness.

One of the emperors who made this time famous, was named Trajan, and he became so great a favorite, that when the Romans wished to pay a compliment to their rulers after this, they could only say that they were "more fortunate than Augustus and better than Trajan." He was a great soldier, and made war upon the people who lived beyond the Danube and conquered some of their territory; but this was soon given up again. To celebrate his victories, Trajan set up in the Forum at Rome, a carved marble column, a hundred and thirty feet high, with his statue on the top. This column still stands at Rome, after eighteen hundred years; and winding around the outside of it may still be traced the carvings which picture scenes from his wars with the tribes along the Danube.

The ruler who followed Trajan was named Hadrian. He was a man of peace, and a great traveler and builder. He visited all the provinces of the empire, from far-off Britain to Egypt and the East; and wherever he went he caused new temples and theatres and other public buildings to be raised, and the old ones to be repaired. And in Britain, he built a great wall across the island from sea to sea, to protect the Roman citizens there against the tribes that lived in what is now Scotland.

The two emperors who came just after Hadrian were different from any that had gone before. They were scholars and wise men, and liked the quiet of their libraries much better than the noise of armies and battles, or the traveling of which Hadrian had been so fond. But they both governed with the single purpose of making the people under their rule as happy as possible; so when it became necessary to make war to defend the empire, they did not hesitate to give up their own desires and march at the head of their armies. This became more and more necessary during the reign of Marcus Aurelius, the second of these two emperors; and finally he met his death on the bank of the river Danube, fighting against the Germans who dwelt along that stream.

MARCUS AURELIUS

With the death of this great and good emperor, the "golden age" of the empire came to an end. From now on the barbarians pressed more closely on the empire, and it became more difficult to defend it against their attacks. The Romans and the Italians had lost the old bravery and skill in fighting, which had enabled them to conquer the whole world; while the barbarians had learned much about war from their long struggles with Rome. Besides this, the government now fell once more into unworthy hands. Ignorant soldiers gave the rule to men who were not fit for it; and once the position of emperor was even put up at auction and sold to the highest bidder.

So a hundred years of war and bloodshed followed. This did not cease, until at last a strong ruler named Diocletian got the power, and divided the empire into an eastern and western half, each with its own ruler, so that the people might be better defended from the barbarians, and better governed in their own countries. Many other changes were made by Diocletian; then when his work was finished, he resigned his power and spent the rest of his days in quiet, far from the struggles of war and politics.

Soon after Diocletian had resigned his power, a new emperor arose who once more united the rule over both the eastern and western halves of the empire. His name was Constantine, and he is called "the Great." He did two things which were very important. In the first place, he was the first emperor to become a Christian himself, and to allow the Christians to practice their religion openly. In the second place, he moved the capital of the Roman empire to the shores of the Black Sea, and there built a, new city which was called from his name, "Constantinople," or "the city of Constantine." Sometime after the death of Constantine the empire was again divided into an eastern and a western part; and this time the division was a lasting one. After that there was an empire of the East, with its capital at Constantinople; and an empire of the West, with its capital at Rome.

Meanwhile, the barbarians, especially the Germans, had been growing more and more troublesome. Great hordes of them at last broke through the line of forts along the Rhine and the Danube, and wandered up and down the lands of the empire, plundering and destroying for many years. Battle after battle was fought with them, and sometimes the Germans were the victors, and sometimes the Romans were; but the armies of the emperors were never again strong enough to drive the Germans out of the Roman lands.

Then the Romans tried to buy off the Germans by giving them lands to settle on, and by taking their young men into the Roman armies. But the news of the success of these bands soon brought others after them, all demanding lands within the bounds of the empire. And often they would not wait to ask for a place to settle, but would seize upon it without asking, and the armies of the empire could not prevent it. In this way, Spain, and Gaul, and Britain, and even northern Italy, passed into the hands of the Germans; and in all these lands the Roman rule came to an end forever.

The new city of Constantinople was so well situated and so strongly built that the Germans were never able to capture it; and the empire there went on for a thousand years longer. But the empire of the West was not so strong. The city of Rome had been greatly weakened when Constantine moved the capital of the empire to the Black Sea, and it was not so able to stand the attacks of the barbarians. Just eight hundred years after it had been taken by the Gauls, Rome fell into the hands of the barbarians a second time, and was plundered by a wandering tribe of Germans. Then sixty-six years later, in the year 476 after Christ, one of these German chiefs seized the last Roman emperor in Italy, and took his crown and scepter from him; and the Roman empire of the West quietly came to an end.

You have seen how the Romans spread their rule from the little district around Rome, until they had gained a vast empire, and now you have seen how that empire was lost. The Romans gained their power, because they were worthy to rule, and they lost it because they ceased to be worthy. The rule of Rome, which had at first been a blessing to the world, at last became an injury to it. When that time came, it was easy for the Germanic barbarians to overthrow the old government.

But it is easier to destroy a government than it is to build one up. The Germans were at this time a rude and unlettered people, and they had never lived in cities and were ignorant of many things connected with ruling over them. So it was to take them a long time to set up strong governments which should rule as well as the old Romans had done. In the end, however, they succeeded in doing this; and then the modern nations of Europe arose out of the ruins of the Roman Empire, and united in themselves all that was best of the old Roman civilization, with the newer, freer and better ideas of the Germans.

The Christians and the Empire

During the centuries that the Roman power was slowly weakening and dying, there was another power that was constantly growing stronger. This was the power of the Christian religion. It was to grow until it had conquered the Romans; then it was to conquer the Germans, who overthrew the Roman rule. In this way it was to go on, until it had conquered the world in a far wider sense than Rome had ever done; and at last it was to become the mightiest power that the world has ever seen.

Palestine, the land of the Jews, was first conquered by Pompey, before his war with Caesar, while he was setting the affairs of the East in order. There Christ was born during the time that Augustus was emperor, and he was put to death in the reign of the emperor who succeeded Augustus. Up to that time the teachings of Christ had not spread beyond that portion of the Jews who accepted them. After his death, however, the Apostles especially the Apostle Paul began to spread his teachings among other nations; and soon there were little bands of Christians to be found in many of the cities about the Mediterranean Sea.

Then it began to be a question as to how the Roman government would treat this new religion. Usually the Romans were very tolerant, and allowed the nations that they conquered to worship whatever gods they chose, and even to bring their worship with them to Rome. In this way, the Egyptians and Jews and other eastern nations had been allowed to build temples at Rome and worship their gods there with almost no disturbance.

It was different, however, with the Christians. There were many reasons why the Romans would not let them worship freely. The Jews were very bitter against the Christians, and they informed the Romans that the Christians were guilty of many horrible crimes in their meetings. These charges were not true, of course; but the Romans, and perhaps even the Jews themselves, believed them. Then, too, the Christians were charged with introducing a new and strange god, and with denying that the gods of the empire were gods at all. When the Christians would not offer sacrifice to the Roman gods—especially when they would not worship the statues of the emperors, who were now looked upon as gods they were charged with rebellion, and with plotting to overthrow the government. And whenever war, or famine, or disease, came upon the people, they were ready to blame it upon the Christians.

"The gods are angry with us for sheltering those who deny them!" they would cry at such times. "The Christians must be put to death! To the lions with the Christians!"

Then all persons who were suspected of being Christians would be seized and hurried off to the judges. If they admitted that they were Christians, they were promptly sentenced to death. If they denied it, they were asked to offer sacrifice to the statue of the emperor; and if they would not do this, that was taken as a sign that the charge was true, and they, too, were declared guilty.

In this way the prisons would be filled with Christians. It made no difference whether they were slaves or free, old or young, strong men or delicate women. Their fate was the same. When next the people were gathered to see the games in the great Circus, the Christians would be driven into the arena. Then lions, and leopards, and other wild beasts would be turned loose upon them, while the cruel Romans shouted and cheered from their seats around about.

The first persecution of the Christians at Rome took place while Nero was emperor. A great fire had broken out and burned more than two-thirds of the city. The Romans believed, whether rightly or wrongly, that Nero himself had given order to set the city on fire, so that he might rebuild it in a more splendid style than ever. There were ugly rumors, too, that while the waves of flame were sweeping over the city, Nero had been seen on a tower watching the sight, and unfeelingly singing and playing upon a harp.

The Roman people were, therefore, very angry with Nero, and for a while it looked as though there would be a rebellion. To quiet them, Nero had it reported that it was the Christians who had started the fire, and that while it was burning many of them had been seen going about with torches in their hands and setting fire to buildings which had not yet caught.

This changed the people's wrath from their emperor to the Christians. The cry arose, "To the lions with the Christians"; and many hundreds of them were hurried off to prison without any kind of trial. Nero also invented many new and cruel punishments for them. Some were covered with the skins of wild beasts, and then dogs were set on them. Others were wrapped in sheets of pitch and burned at night in Nero's gardens; and the name of "Nero's candles" was given to these. Others, more mercifully, were put to death in their prisons; and in later days it was said that among this number were the Apostles Peter and Paul.

It was not always, however, the evil emperors like Nero who persecuted the Christians. Sometimes the most severe persecutions were begun by orders of good emperors. They were ignorant of the real teachings of Christ, and believed that the charges made against the Christians were true. In this way it happened that Trajan, and Marcus Aurelius, and Diocletian all persecuted the Christians and had large numbers of them put to death.

The Christians did not burn the bodies of their dead, as the Romans did; they buried them instead. But in place of burying them in cemeteries, such as we all know, they dug out great tunnels and caves in the soft rock, and formed tombs along their sides in which they laid the bodies of their dead. In this way the hills of Rome came to be mined through and through with such tunnels, or "catacombs" as they were called.

At last these catacombs made a great network of passages, miles and miles in length, which crossed and recrossed one another, under the city, just as the Roman streets did on the surface of the ground above. When the persecutions would begin, and danger would come, the Christians would hide themselves in these streets of the dead below the surface of the ground; and there, too, they would often hold their church services to comfort one another in their times of trial and distress. These catacombs still exist at Rome, and they are one of the sights that every visitor to that city is sure to want to see.

In these persecutions, many hundreds of Christians were put to death because of their religion; and many more were imprisoned, or suffered in other ways for their faith. But through it all they were brave and glad, for they suffered for Christ as Christ had suffered for them.

The persons who suffered in this way were called "martyrs," which means "witnesses" for the Truth. Many Christians eagerly sought to receive a martyr's death, and mourned when they did not succeed. Even boys and girls became heroes in these persecutions, and endured death without flinching. At Rome a thirteen-year-old girl named Agnes was brought before the judges on the charge of being a Christian. She refused to deny the charge, and was put to death by the sword; and after that her name was honored as that of a saint. And in Gaul, a young slave girl endured the most cruel tortures and at last was thrown to the wild beasts in a net, because she would not give up Christianity; and a boy fifteen years old was also put to death there, at the same time and for the same reason.

One of the noblest of the martyrs was a man named Polycarp, who was put to death in Asia Miner while Marcus Aurelius was emperor. He was then an old, old man, of ninety years, and all the Christians of the East looked up to him with love and admiration, for he was a disciple of the Apostle John. When the soldiers came to arrest him, their commander took pity on him, and tried to persuade him to sacrifice to the Roman gods, and so save his life.

"What harm can there be in saying the emperor, our Lord,' and in offering sacrifices to him?" he asked.

At first Polycarp was silent; but when they went on to urge him, he said mildly:

"I will not do as you advise me."

When he was brought before the Roman governor of that province, he, too, urged him to swear by the emperor as by a god, and give proof of his repentance by saying, with the people, "Away with the godless." But Polycarp looked with a firm eye at the crowd that stood by; then with his eyes lifted up to heaven, and pointing at them with his finger, he cried:

"Away with the godless."

And when the governor urged him further, and said, "Curse Christ, and I will release you;" Polycarp answered:

"Eighty-six years have I served him, and he has done me nothing but good, and how could I curse him, my Lord and Saviour? If you wish to know what I am, I tell you frankly I am a Christian."

Even then the Roman governor wished to save the brave old man, if he could; but Polycarp would not yield. At last the governor turned to the people, and a herald proclaimed:

"Polycarp has confessed that he is a Christian." When the people heard these words, they cried out that he was the father of the Christians, that he was the enemy of their gods, and that he had taught many to turn from their worship and cease to sacrifice in their temples. They demanded that Polycarp should be burned at the stake, and they themselves brought wood for this purpose from the workshops and baths. Then the Roman governor gave his consent, and it was done as they had desired; and Polycarp met his death with the same steadfastness and courage which he had shown at his trial.

In this way men and women of all classes, young and bid, noble and slave, suffered and were put to death. But still the number of the Christians increased with each persecution.

"Go on," said one of the Christian writers to the Roman rulers; "go on, torture us and grind us to dust. Our numbers increase more rapidly than you mow us down. The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church."

At last the time came when the persecutions were to cease altogether, and the emperors themselves, and all of their officers were to become Christians.

This happened, as you have already seen, while Constantine was on the throne. During the first part of his reign, he had to struggle against several rivals in the empire. At one time, the story goes, while he was marching rapidly from Gaul into Italy to attack one of his enemies, he saw a flaming cross in the sky in broad day, and on the cross were these words:

"In this sign, conquer."

In the battle which followed, Constantine did conquer; and he believed that he owed his victory to the god of the Christians. So one of the first things that he did after that was to issue an order to stop the persecutions, and permit the Christians to practice their religion openly and in peace.

After this, Constantine became a Christian himself, and did all that he could to favor their cause. Temples were taken away from the priests of the old gods and given to the Christians, to use as churches; and only Christians were appointed to offices under the empire. And when Constantine died, his sons followed the same religion; and the number of the Christians grew rapidly under them. And though Julian, the nephew of Constantine, ceased to be a Christian when he became emperor, and tried to bring the people back to the worship of Mars and Jupiter once more, he did not succeed. The task was too great for him. After him, all of the emperors were Christians; and at last a time came when the old worship was put down altogether.

Then the altars of the old gods were thrown down and their images were broken; and the sacred fire in the temple of Vesta, which had burned without interruption for eleven centuries, was extinguished forever. And after that all persons were punished who dared to sacrifice to the old gods who had so long been worshiped by the Roman people.

The Remains of Rome

The Roman Empire came to an end many centuries ago, but there is still much of Rome left in the world to-day. The Romans live for us yet in their history, and also in the languages and laws of Europe, which are founded in large part upon the language and law of Rome. In another way also Rome and the life of her citizens are with us still. The Roman roads and bridges and walls can still be traced all over Europe, and at Rome a few great buildings remain which give us a faint idea of the grandeur of the ancient city. Moreover, by a strange chance, a Roman city

the city of Pompeii has been preserved for us entire, very much as it was toward the close of the first century after Christ; and in this we can draw near to the life of the people of Rome as it must have been eighteen hundred years ago.

You will remember, perhaps, that the Romans of the time of Cincinnatus lived partly in the country upon their farms, and partly in the city. Although the Romans of the empire were very different in their thoughts and tastes from those of the earlier days, they were like them in this, that they did not confine them-selves to a life in Rome. Every citizen who was able to afford it, had a house outside of Rome,—on some beautiful Italian lake, at the foot of the mountains, or on the seashore. The western coast of Italy was lined, in places, with the country houses, or villas, of the Romans; and one beautiful bay that on which the city of Naples stands—was noted for the number of the towns and villas which covered its shores.

Overlooking this bay, at the present time, is the lofty peak of Mt. Vesuvius. Travelers who visit the city of Naples to-day think themselves fortunate if they are there during an eruption of Vesuvius; for it is now one of the most active volcanoes of the world. Up to the first century after Christ, however, the Romans knew nothing of Vesuvius as an active volcano. Cities were built at its very foot; and one of the Roman writers describes Vesuvius as rising behind these towns, "well cultivated and inhabited all around, except the top, which is for the most part level and entirely barren, ashy to the view, and displaying great hollows in rocks which look as if they had been eaten by fire. So we may suppose this spot," he continues, "to have been a volcano formerly, with burning craters, which are now extinguished for want of fuel."

In the year 79 A.D., the fires of Vesuvius burst forth again, after their long, long rest, and brought destruction to the country around it.

It was the afternoon of a November day, and the burning heats of summer were now past. Many of the Roman visitors had left their country homes, and returned to the capital. Some, however, still lingered in their beautiful villas; and such of them as were not taking their afternoon nap, were reading, or busying themselves with other matters. In the cities nearby, life was going on as usual. In one place masons were at work repairing a damaged building; in the Forum, the shop-keepers were showing their wares to customers; in the crowded theatre men and women watched with wolfish eyes the struggles of the gladiators.

Suddenly a strange cloud, shaped like a pine-tree, with a lofty trunk and a cluster of branches at the top, was seen to rise above Vesuvius. As the people watched it, it continually changed in height; and sometimes it was fiery-bright in appearance, and sometimes it seemed streaked with black.

This was the beginning of a great eruption of dust and ashes, which lasted for days, and is said to have scattered its showers of volcanic dust as far as Africa and Egypt. At the same time, the land was shaken by earthquakes: and the sea drew back from the shore.

The people, in terror, fled in all directions, by sea and land, thinking the end of the world had come. Most of them escaped in safety, but some, who tried to brave the storm and remain in the cities, were lost.

When the eruption had ceased, it was found that a thick layer of ashes and mud was spread over the country around, and the towns which were nearest to the mountain were covered so deeply that only the tops of the tallest buildings were visible above the surface of the ground. As the years went by, other eruptions came, and added to the thickness of this covering. Then the top layer was gradually changed to a fine loam; and grass, and bushes, and even trees, sprang up and covered the spot where the cities lay buried. At last they seemed wholly lost to the memory of man.

For sixteen hundred years the cities about Mount Vesuvius then lay buried and lost to view. Then as well, deeper than usual, happened to be dug in the ground above one of them. There, many feet underground, ancient statues were found, and bits of sculptured marble. Search was made, and it was found that the well had struck the stage of a buried theatre. Then scholars began to remember the story of the destruction of the cities so long ago; and they began to dig elsewhere also.

From that time to this, the work of uncovering the buried cities has slowly been going on. Several museums are now filled with the pictures, statues and household furniture which have been taken from beneath the ashes of Vesuvius. The town which has been most thoroughly examined is Pompeii, of which over one-half has been uncovered. There we of the nineteenth century can see the houses and streets of the first century after Christ, very much as they were left when the citizens fled in fear for their lives through the showers of falling stones and ashes.

The removal of the covering over Pompeii has shown that the city had a forum, surrounded by temples and law courts, and other public buildings; and this, as at Rome, was the most splendid part of the city. But it is not for the public buildings of Pompeii that we care most: ancient temples, and other public buildings, as well preserved as these, may be found in other places. But the glimpse which we get into the private houses of the town, and into the life of the people in the streets and shops, this we can get nowhere else and it is this which makes our interest in Pompeii so great.

Let us leave the Forum, then, and go down one of the many streets that lead from it through the town. The first thing that strikes us is the narrowness of the streets. In some of the broadest of them, two chariots could scarcely have passed each other; and some of the ways are so narrow as not even to allow of the passage of one. The pavements are formed of large pieces of stone, joined together with great care; and the ruts worn by the passing wheels can still be seen in some of them. On each side of the street is a narrow walk for the foot passengers; this is raised above the level of the roadway, and large stepping-stones are placed in the middle of the street to enable the people to cross from one side to the other in rainy weather.

A STREET IN POMPEII.

Passing along one of these streets, we notice that the houses are built out to the edge of the pavement, and have their plain and unadorned side toward the passers-by. They are built, as are the houses in many countries to-day,—about one or more inner courts into which most of the rooms open. Often the street side was occupied by shops which were rented out by the owner of the house, and which had no connection with the life of the house itself.

A ROMAN HOUSE.

Let us enter one of these houses, and see how a Roman dwelling was arranged. We will choose one of the larger and finer buildings. The entrance is through a passageway which lies between two of the shops which make up the front of the house. There we find the Latin word for "Welcome" formed of bits of stone, in the mosaic work of the floor. Stepping over this, we enter first the large public hall, which you see plainly in the picture above. Here the master of the house received the visitors who came to see him on business, or to pay their respects to him. If they came from a distance, they might be lodged overnight in the small rooms which you see opening off from the hall on each side. The walls of this large room were decorated with paintings and drawings, and here and there we see places where the statues shown in the picture once stood. The floor here, and, indeed, all through the lower story of the house, was formed of blocks of marble or other stone, and usually the blocks were of different colors and were arranged to form a pattern of some sort.

In the centre of the floor of the room which we are examining, we see a square basin, several feet deep. When we ask what this was for, we are told that there was an opening in the roof above this, and that the basin was to catch the water which fell when it rained. Unfortunately, the roofs of the houses have, all been broken down or burned, and the rooms are now open to the sky; so we have to imagine this opening in the roof. In the beginning, we are told, it was left to let out the smoke and vapors from the fires; for none of the houses had chimneys, and the fireplaces were only metal pots or pans in which charcoal might be burned. We could not imagine ourselves, in our cold climate, living with such an opening over our heads; but in the warmer climate of Italy, this plan had many advantages. For one thing, the rooms were thus freely ventilated; and an awning, drawn across the opening, served to keep out the sun in summer.

SPOONS FROM POMPEII

Leaving the public hall, we come through another passage to the private part of the house, where the women and children dwelt, and where no visitor might come without a special invitation from the master. Here we find another court, with rows of slender, graceful columns about it. Opening off this court, are small low bedrooms, which we should think very uncomfortable; and here, too, is the dining-room, where the master of the house entertained his friends at dinner. Above this court, also, there was an opening in the roof, with a basin below to catch the water; and about the basin, between and behind the columns, there grew, perhaps, beds of blooming flowers and clumps of evergreens.

Only the ground floor remains of most of the houses of Pompeii; but there must have been a second story to all of the better houses, and sometimes even a third story. But the upper part of the house was for the use of the slaves and the dependents of the family, and could not have been so well arranged, nor so beautiful, as the lower portion.

Even if we had been the first, after its discovery, to examine this house, we should not have found the walls hung with framed pictures, as with us. Instead of that, we might, perhaps, have found its walls beautifully decorated with scenes and designs painted on the wall itself, which had kept their colors almost fresh in the darkness of the buried city. Some of these pictures have now been allowed to fade by exposure to the light and air; but many have been carefully taken down and preserved in the museums.

When these houses were first uncovered, many pieces of furniture were found in them; but according to our ideas, the Roman rooms must have seemed rather bare for living rooms. We should have found in them only a few chairs, some small tables, three couches in the dining-room—you will remember that the Romans reclined at their meals—some beds or couches in the bedrooms, and here and there high stands for their queer oil lamps. The form of these articles, however, was often most elegant; and at times they were made of very rich material and with great skill of workmanship. Besides such larger pieces of furniture, many smaller articles have been found, as the work of unearthing the city has gone on. Among these, we may name cooking vessels, vases, cups and fine glasses, combs, hairpins, polished metal mirrors, and many pieces of jewelry.

DRINKING BOWL FROM POMPEII.

Besides the private houses, and the public buildings, many shops have been found in Pompeii. Most of these are just tiny little rooms in the front of the houses, and are entirely open toward the street. Usually we can tell what sort of a shop each is by the sign in front of it. Here is one with a wooden goat before it, and we know that it was a milk shop. Another has a large jar as a sign, and we know at once that it was a wine shop. The one with a snake before it was a drug store; and this one with a row of hams for a sign, we are told, was an eating house. Three bakeries have been discovered, and these give us a very good idea of how the bread of the Romans looked; for in the oven of one of them, eighty-three loaves were discovered, black and charred, but still keeping their original shape. L washing and dyeing shop, for the care of the woolen garments which were almost the only kind worn, has also been dis covered; and here the stone tubs may still be seen waiting for their contents, while on the walls are pictures of men standing in tubs and stamping with their feet, to show us how they were used in washing garments.

In one way the people of Pompeii were very much like some bad boys of our own day. They loved to scratch and write on the walls of the houses of the town, which, indeed, must have offered tempting chances to all by being so near to the sidewalk. So here, we find verses from the poets; and there, letters of the Greek alphabet, scratched by boys too small to reach high up on the walls. In many places advertisements are scratched in the plaster of the walls, and announcements of fights of gladiators, and performances in the theatre. Occasionally, too, we find pictures like the one shown on page 254, where a gladiator is seen coming down the steps of the amphitheatre, with a palm leaf of victory in his right hand. Such drawings and inscriptions are often found on the ancient buildings of Rome also. There, as at Pompeii, they must have been the work of the common people and the young boys, for the writers are usually very uncertain of their grammar and spelling.

DRAWING ON THE OUTER WALL OF A HOUSE IN POMPEII.

The old Roman life has been kept for us better in the city of Pompeii than anywhere else; for at Rome itself, the buildings and furniture and tools and ornaments of the people, did not remain unused and unchanged during the centuries. People continued to live in the greater city, through all the changes that the years brought with them; and they live there to this day. Only a few of the great monuments of the past, however, remain among them.

Do you wonder how the magnificent buildings of the older Rome, which were so solidly built of stone and marble, could have been so nearly destroyed, even in so long a stretch of time?

For many hundreds of years after the Roman empire of the West had come to an end, the people of the city knew little of the past, and cared still less about it. They used the old temples for churches, changing them to suit their purposes; and they tore down the finest buildings of the older city, in order to get stone for use in building new ones of their own. There is no doubt that, in this way, the Romans themselves have done more harm to the old city than all the armies that have ever captured Rome. If we could only learn the history and the former use of each of the marbles, stones and bricks, of which the palaces and churches of modern. Rome are built, our knowledge of the city of the Caesars would be almost complete.

In the fifteenth century the Church of St. Peter, the grandest in the world to-day, was begun at Rome, and rose slowly for more than two hundred years before it reached completion. The building of this church alone caused more destruction to the remains of ancient Rome than the ten centuries of ignorance that had gone before. Of the huge masses of marble of every color and size used in it, not an inch was dug from the quarries in modern times. They were all taken from the ancient buildings, many of which were leveled to the ground for the sake of one or two pieces only. At this time, also, the greatest sculptors that Italy has ever seen were flourishing; and they too found marbles ready to their hand in the fallen columns of the ancient temples. In this way, the materials of the most beautiful Christian chapel in the world, were taken from the tomb of the Emperor Hadrian.

If you ever go to Rome, and see the great arching dome of St. Peter's, and the other beautiful sights of the modern city, you must remember this. The new Rome which the eye sees contains the Rome of ancient times beneath its soil and in its greatest buildings, in something of the same way in which our language holds the old Latin words which have been worked over into a different form, and put to different uses in our speech. At first glance we see only that which is new, and we think that the old has completely perished; but, as we look closer and study into things, we find that all of the past is there also, if we only know how to find it.

Summaries of Chapters

I.—The Peninsula of Italy

Position, size, and shape; comparison with Greece and Spain.

Climate.

Surface: the valley of the River Po; the Apennine mountains; the plains.

Rivers: general character; the Ricer Tiber.

Coast lands: in the northwest; about the mouth of the Tiber; in the south; the eastern coast; the lands about the mouth of the Po.

Early governments in Italy; the city of Rome.

II.—Romulus and the Beginning f Rome

Difficulty of learning how and when Rome was founded; the belief of the Romans.

Early life of Romulus.

Founding of the city.

Seizure of the Sabine women; war; the Sabines settle at Rome.

The rule of Romulus.

His disappearance.

III.—Numa, the Peaceful King

Election of Numa.

His character and policy.

The Roman religion; the gods Jupiter, Mars, Juno, Minerva, Vesta, and Janus.

The worship of the gods arranged by Numa: the Vestal Virgins; the dancing priests of Mars.

Death of Numa.

IV.—The Last of the Kings

New wars: their lesson for the Romans; Alba Longa destroyed.

New walls; sewers; the temple on the Capitol.

The Sybilline books.

Tarquin the Proud, the seventh king.

Tarquin driven out, and a republic set up.

V.—The War with Lars Porsena

Plot of the young nobles to restore Tarquin; the judgment of Brutus.

Lars Porsena aids Tarquin.

Horatius at the Bridge.

VI.—The Stories of Mucius snd Cloelia

The story of Mucius.

Lars Porsena makes peace.

The story of Cloelia.

The last war with Tarquin; Castor and Pollux.

VII.—Secession of the Plebeians

Patricians and plebeians.

The grievances of the plebeians.

Struggles between the classes.

The secession to the Sacred Mount.

Tribunes appointed to protect the plebeians.

Continued struggles.

VIII.—The Story of Coriolanus

Early life of Caius Marcius.

How he gained the name Coriolanus.

His struggle with the plebeians; he is sent into exile. He leads the Volscians against Rome.

Rome saved by Veturia.

IX.—The Family of the Fabii

Roman families.

The Fabii and the plebeians.

The Fabii march against the Veientians.

Destruction of the Fabii.

X.—The Victory of Cincinnatus

The wars with the Aequians.

A Roman army entrapped.

Cincinnatus made Dictator.

His victory over the Aequians.

Cincinnatus lays down his power.

XI.—The Laws of the Twelve Tables

The early Roman law; grievances of the people.

Struggle to have the laws made public.

The "Ten Men" chosen.

The Twelve Tables published..

Their provisions.

Growth of the Roman law; its influence.

XII.—How Camillus Captured Veii

Rome's wars with Veii; the long siege.

The Alban lake and the oracle of Apollo.

Draining the Alban lake.

Camillus captures Veii.

Removal of the gods to Rome.

Camillus and the treacherous schoolmaster.

Camillus quarrels with the people; his exile.

XIII.—The Coming of the Gauls

The home of the Gauls.

Their appearance and manner of fighting.

Settlement of the Gauls in northern Italy.

The Gauls before Clusium; action of the Roman ambassadors.

The Gauls march upon Rome.

The battle; defeat and flight of the Romans.

XIV.—The Gauls in Rome

Dismay in the city; the Roman plans.

The Gauls enter Rome; the old men in the Forum.

Slaughter of the old men; burning of the city.

Siege of the Capitol.

Camillus's victory over a band of the Gauls; the messenger to the Senate.

The attempt of the Gauls to surprise the Capitol; its failure.

The Gauls agree to depart from Rome; their terms.

XV.—Rebuilding the City

Despair of the people; proposal to remove to Veii.

Speech of Camillus.

Decision to remain at Rome.

Rebuilding the city.

Wars with the neighboring peoples; victories of Camillus.

The last war of Camillus; his noble spirit.

Death of Camillus; his services to Rome.

XVI.—The New Rome

Recovery of Rome from her misfortunes.

End of the struggle between the plebeians and patricians.

The building of aqueducts.

Roman roads; the Appian Way.

What Rome learned from other nations.

Devotion of the Romans to their city: the story of Marcus Curtius; the sacrifice of Decius Mus.

XVII.—The War with Pyrrhus

The Greeks of Southern Italy.

Rome's quarrel with Tarentum,

Tarentum calls in King Pyrrhus.

The first battle with Pyrrhus; the Roman and the Greek modes of fighting; defeat of the Romans.

Embassy of Cinias to Rome; speech of Appius Claudius.

Fabricius and Pyrrhus.

Second battle with Pyrrhus; the Romans again defeated.

Pyrrhus in Sicily.

The third battle; victory of the Romans; Pyrrhus leaves Italy.

Capture of Tarentum; Rome the ruler of the peninsula.

XVIII.—Rome and the Carthaginians

The Carthaginians: their mother-country; their voyages; their inventions; the city of Carthage.

Rivalry with Rome in Sicily; beginning of the first war.

Strength of the two peoples.

The Romans build a fleet; the "crows"; Roman victories.

Regulus in Africa; his capture.

Embassy of Regulus to Rome; his death.

Length of the war; Roman misfortunes.

The Romans build a new fleet; its victory.

The treaty of peace.

XIX.—The War with Hannibal

Civil war at Carthage; Hamilcar.

Hamilcar goes to Spain; the oath of Hannibal.

Carthage conquers Spain; Hannibal becomes commander of the army.

Beginning of the second war between Rome and Carthage.

Hannibal's plans.

His march across the Alps.

Arrival in Italy; his successes.

Roman fear of Hannibal.

Causes of Hannibal's failure; his recall.

Scipio Africanus; defeat of Hannibal at Zama.

Terms of peace.

Last years of Hannibal; his death.

XX.—Rome Conquers the World

Rome's gains from Carthage.

Conquest of Northern Italy and Southern Gaul.

Conquest of Macedonia.

The Romans in Asia Minor and in Egypt.

The third war with Carthage; destruction of the city; Roman power in Africa.

Good results of Roman rule.

Effects of the conquests on the Roman generals; on the common soldiers.

Aemilius Paullus: his reforms; his victories over Macedonia; his just dealings.

The triumph of Aemilius.

XXI.—The Gracchi and Their Mother

Roman marriage customs.

Marriage of Tiberius Gracchus and Cornelia, daughter of Scipio Africanus; death of Gracchus; Cornelia and her children.

Young Tiberius Gracchus; his service in the army.

Troubles of the Roman farmers; slavery; decay of the people.

Tiberius Gracchus elected tribune; he attempts to cure these evils.

Mistakes of Tiberius; he is put to death; character of the new party struggles at Rome.

Caius Gracchus; his election as tribune; his reforms; his death.

Conduct of Cornelia.

XXII.—The Wars of Caius Marius

Caius Marius; the eagle's nest; the saying of Scipio Aemilianus.

Marius and the war against Jugurtha; his first consulship.

The invasion of the Germans.

Victories of Marius over the Germans.

Marius's sixth consulship; his failure as a statesman.

Civil war between the parties of Marius and Sulla.

The victories of Sulla; wanderings of Marius; departure of Sulla.

Return of Marius to Rome; his cruelties; his seventh consulship and death.

Return of Sulla; his terrible vengeance; sufferings of Italy.

XXIII.—Cicero, the Orator

Birth of Cicero; his home life and training.

Roman schools; Cicero's life till he was fifteen.

Cicero in the law-courts.

His first case; his fear of Sulla's anger; travels in Greece.

Cicero enters politics; trial of Verres.

His election as consul; Catiline's conspiracy.

Evils of Roman government; Cicero's plans.

New civil wars; Cicero's course.

Cicero's death; his character.

XXIV.—Julius Caesar, the Conqueror of Gaul

Caesar's youth; Sulla wishes to put him to death.

Caesar in the East; his first training in war.

His adventure with the pirates.

Caesar at Rome; his habits.

Caesar made overseer of the public games.

Character of the games: the chariot races; the wild beast hunts; the gladiatorial combats.

Caesar and Pompey; Caesar elected consul, and made governor of GauL

Condition of Gaul.

Caesar's victory over the Swiss.

His march against the Germans; trouble with his soldiers.

Extent of his conquests; expeditions into Germany and Britain.

Caesar's character as a general.

XXV.—Caesar and the Beginning of the Empire

Failure of the government of Rome; the remedy.

Pompey joins the party of the Senate; plans against Caesar.

Caesar crosses the Rubicon; the second civil war begins.

Flight of Pompey to Greece; Caesar goes to Spain.

Caesar follows Pompey to Greece; defeat and death of Pompey

Further conquests of Caesar; mutiny of his soldiers.

Caesar's four-fold triumph.

Caesar as Emperor; his reforms.

Plot against Caesar; his death.

His character.

XXVI.—Rome in the Time of Augustus

Struggles after Caesar's death; his nephew becomes Emperor.

The good rule of Augustus; boundaries of the Empire.

Literature under Augustus; the poet Horace.

A day in Rome: clients and the morning reception; the business in the Forum; the mid-day rest; exercise in the Field of Mars; the baths; the banquet.

XXVII.—The Empire After Augustus

The successors of Augustus; Nero.

The Good Emperors: Trajan; Hadrian; Marcus Aurelius.

Decline of the Empire; danger from the Germans; the emperor Diocletian.

Constantine the Great; the Christian religion; Constantinople.

Division of the Empire; attacks of the Germans; fall of the Empire of the West.

The German conquest paves the way for modern Europe.

XXVIII.—The Christians and the Empire

Spread of Christianity in the Empire.

Attitude of the government; "To the lions with the Christians!"

Persecution under Nero.

The Catacombs.

Bravery of the Martyrs; Polycarp.

Failure of the persecutions to check the growth of Christianity.

The Empire becomes Christian; Constantine; end of the old religion.

XXIX.—The Remains of Rome

Roman remains: language, laws, ruins.

Eruption of Vesuvius, 79 A. D.

Discovery of the buried cities; Pompeii.

Streets and public buildings of Pompeii.

The private dwellings.

Pictures and furniture.

Pompeiian shops.

Writings on the walls.

Disappearance of the ancient remains at Rome.

The old in the new.

Chronological Outline

For the sake of completeness, some names and events have been introduced into this outline which are not mentioned in the text. These are distinguished by being printed in italics.

Table of Contents

Introduction

When Columbus in the year 1492 returned from his voyage of discovery, a keen rivalry began among the Old World nations for the possession of the New World. Expedition followed expedition; Spaniards, Portuguese, French, English, and later the Dutch and Swedes,—all began to strive with one another for the wealth and dominion of the new-found lands; and American history—our own history—begins.

But who were these Spaniards and Portuguese, these Englishmen and Frenchmen, these Dutchmen and Swedes? In the old days when the might and power of Rome ruled over the world, we hear nothing of them. Whence had they come? Were they entirely new peoples who had had no part in the old world of the Greeks and Romans? Were they the descendants of the old peoples over whom the Emperors had ruled from the city of the Seven Hills? Or did they arise by a mingling of the old and the new? Then, if they were the result of a mingling, where had the new races dwelt during the long years that Rome was spreading her empire over the known world? When and how had the mingling taken place? What, too, had become of

"The Glory that was Greece, the grandeur that was Rome"?

Why was America not discovered and settled before? What were the customs, the ideas, the institutions which these peoples brought with them when they settled here? In short, what had been the history and what was the condition of the nations which, after 1492, began the struggle for the mastery of the New World?

To such questions it is the aim of this book to give an answer. It will try to show how the power of Rome fell before the attacks of German barbarians, and how, in the long course of the Middle Ages, new peoples, new states, a new civilization, arose on the ruins of the old.

At the beginning of the period Rome was old and worn out with misgovernment and evil living. But planted in this dying Rome there was the new and vigorous Christian Church which was to draw up into itself all that was best and strongest of the old world. The Germans were rude and uncivilized, but they were strong in mind and body, and possessed some ideas about government, women, and the family which were better than the ideas of the Romans on these subjects.

When the Germans conquered the Romans, and settled within the bounds of the Empire, it might well have seemed that the end of the world was come. Cities were plundered and destroyed; priceless works of art were dashed to pieces; and the inhabitants of many lands were slain or enslaved. For nearly a thousand years Europe did not entirely recover from the shock; and the period which immediately follows the invasions of the barbarians is so dreary and sad that historians have called it "the Dark Ages."

But what was best in the old Greek and Roman civilization did not wholly perish.

The Christian Church, too, grew steadily stronger, and sought to soften and civilize the rude Germans.

The Germans, in turn, did not lose their vigor or their good ideas.

At last from the combination of all these elements a new civilization arose,—stronger, better, and capable of higher development than the old,—and the Middle Ages were past. Then and only then could—and did—the new nations, which meanwhile had slowly been forming, set out on their careers of discovery and exploration which have made our New World possible.

So, we may say, the Middle Ages were the period when Europe became Europe, and made ready to found new Europes in America, in Australia, and in Africa. It was the growing-time for all the great harvest which has come since that time.

The Ancient Germans

We must begin our story with those new races which were to mix their blood with that of the peoples of the Roman Empire, and form the nations of Europe to-day. These were the ancient Germans, the ancestors of the peoples who now speak German, English, Dutch, and Scandinavian.

They lived then,—as part of their descendants still do,—in the lands extending from the North Sea and the Baltic on the North, to the Danube River on the South; and from the Rhine on the West, to the rivers Elbe and Oder on the East. This region is now one of the most flourishing countries in all the world, with many great cities and millions of inhabitants. At that time it had no cities at all and but few inhabitants. The people had just begun to settle down and cultivate the soil, where before they had moved from place to place to find fresh pasturage for their flocks and better hunting. The surface of the country was still almost as Nature had made it. Gloomy forests stretched for miles and miles where now there are sunny fields, and wide and treacherous marshes lay where the land now stands firm and solid.

AN OLD GERMAN VILLAGE

Breaking the Frontier

If you look at the map of Europe you will see two great rivers,—the Rhine and the Danube,—flowing in opposite directions across the continent, one emptying into the North Sea and the other into the Black Sea. Their mouths are thousands of miles apart; yet when you follow up the course of each, you find that they come nearer and nearer, until, at their sources, the distance between them is no greater than a good walker might cover in a day. Thus these two rivers almost form a single line across the whole of Europe. Each in its lower course is broad and deep, and makes a good boundary for the countries on its banks. The Roman armies in the old days often crossed these rivers and indeed gained victories beyond them; but they found it so hard to keep possession of what they conquered there, that in the end they decided not to try. So for many years the Rhine and the Danube rivers formed the northern boundary of the Roman Empire.

In the last chapter you have read something of the Germans who lived north and east of this boundary. Among these peoples there was one which was to take the lead in breaking through the frontier and bringing about the downfall of the great empire of Rome. This was the nation of the Goths.

In the latter part of the fourth century after Christ, the Goths dwelt along the shores of the Black Sea and just north of the lower course of the Danube River. There they had been dwelling for more than a hundred years. According to the stories which the old men had told their sons, and the sons had told their children after them, the Goths at one time had dwelt far to the North, on the shores of the Baltic. Why they left their northern home, we do not know. Perhaps it was because of a famine or a pestilence which had come upon the land; perhaps it was because of a victory or a defeat in war with their neighbors; perhaps it was because of the urging of some great leader, or because of an oracle of their gods.

At any rate, the Goths did leave their homes by the Baltic Sea, to wander southward through the forests of what is now Western Russia. After many years, they had arrived in the sunnier lands about the Danube. There they had come in contact with the Romans for the first time. For a while there had been much fighting between the two peoples; but at last the Goths had been allowed to settle down quietly in these lands, on condition that they should not cross the river Danube and enter the Roman territory. And there they had dwelt ever since, living peaceably, for the most part, alongside their Roman neighbors and learning from them many civilized ways.

The greatest thing that the Goths learned from the Romans was Christianity. Little by little they ceased worshiping Thor and Woden, and became Christians. This was chiefly due to one of their own men, named Ulfilas, who spent a number of years at Constantinople, the Roman capital of the world. There he became a Christian priest; and when he returned to his people he began to work as a missionary among them. Ulfilas had many difficulties to overcome in this work; but the chief one was that there was no Bible, or indeed any books, in the Gothic language. So Ulfilas set to work to translate the Bible from the Greek language into the Gothic. This was a hard task in itself; but it was made all the harder by the fact that before he could begin he had to invent an alphabet in which to write down the Gothic words. After the translation was made, too, he had to teach his people how to read it. In all this Ulfilas was successful; and under his wise and patient teaching the Goths rapidly became Christians. At the same time they were becoming more civilized, and their rulers were beginning to build up a great kingdom about the Danube and the Black Sea. Suddenly, however, an event happened which was to change all their later history, and indeed the history of the world as well. This was the coming of the Huns into Europe.

The Huns were not members of the great Aryan family of nations; and indeed the Germans and the Romans thought that they were scarcely human at all. They were related to the Chinese; and their strange features and customs, and their shrill voices, were new to Europe. An old Gothic writer gives us a picture of them. "Nations whom they could never have defeated in fair fight," he says, "fled in horror from those frightful faces—if, indeed, I may call them faces; for they are nothing but shapeless black pieces of flesh, with little points instead of eyes. They have no hair on their cheeks or chins. Instead, the sides of their faces show deep furrowed scars; for hot irons are applied, with characteristic ferocity, to the face of every boy that is born among them, so that blood is drawn from his cheeks before he is allowed to taste his mother’s milk. The men are little in size, but quick and active in their motions; and they are especially skillful in riding. They are broad-shouldered, are good at the use of the bow and arrows, have strong necks, and are always holding their heads high in their pride. To sum up, these beings under the forms of men hide the fierce natures of beasts."

A HUN WARRIOR

The Goths were brave, but they could not stand against such men as these. The EAST-GOTHS, who dwelt about the Black Sea, were soon conquered, and for nearly a century they continued to be subject to the Huns. The WEST-GOTHS, who dwelt about the Danube, fled in terror before the countless hordes of the new-comers, and sought a refuge within the boundaries of the Roman Empire. As many as two hundred thousand fighting men, besides thousands of old men, women, and children, gathered on the north bank of the Danube, and "stretching out their hands from afar, with loud lamentations," begged the Roman officers to permit them to cross the river and settle in the Roman lands.

The Roman Emperor, after much discussion, granted their request; but only on hard conditions, for he feared to have so many of the Goths in the land. The Gothic boys, he said, must be given up to the Romans as hostages, and the men must surrender their arms. The situation of the Goths was so serious that they were forced to agree to these terms; but many of them found means to bribe the Roman officers, to let them keep their arms with them. At last the crossing began; and for many days an army of boats was kept busy ferrying the people across the stream, which at this point was more than a mile wide.

In this way the West-Goths were saved from the Huns; but they soon found that it was only to suffer many injuries at the hands of the Roman officers. The emperor had given orders that the Goths were to be fed and cared for until they could be settled on new lands; but the Roman officers stole the food intended for them, and oppressed them in other ways. Some of the Goths, indeed, fell into such distress that they sold their own children as slaves in order to get food.

This state of affairs could not last long with so war-like a people as the Goths. One day, in the midst of a banquet which the Roman governor was giving to their leader, an outcry was heard in the palace-yard, and the news came that the Goths were being attacked. At once the Gothic leader drew his sword, saying he would stop the tumult, and went out to his men.

From that time war began between the Romans and the West-Goths.

About a year after this (in the year 378 A.D.) a great battle was fought near Adrianople, a city which lies about one hundred and forty miles northwest of Constantinople. The Emperor Valens was himself at the head of the Roman army. His flatterers led him to believe that there could be no doubt of his success; so Valens rashly began the battle without waiting for the troops that were coming to assist him.

The Romans were at other disadvantages. They were hot and tired, and their horses had had no food; the men, moreover, became crowded together into a narrow space where they could neither form their lines, nor use their swords and spears with effect.

The victory of the Goths was complete. The Roman cavalry fled at the first attack; then the infantry were surrounded and cut down by thousands. More than two-thirds of the Roman army perished, and with them perished the Emperor Valens—no one knows just how.

The effects of this defeat were very disastrous for the Romans. Before this time the Goths had been doubtful of their power to defeat the Romans in the open field. Now they felt confidence in themselves, and were ready to try for new victories. And this was not the worst. After the battle of Adrianople the river Danube can no longer be considered the boundary of the Empire. The Goths had gained a footing within the frontier and could wander about at will. Other barbarian nations soon followed their example, and then still others came. As time went on, the Empire fell more and more into the hands of the barbarians.

These effects were not felt so much at first because the new Emperor, Theodosius, was an able man, and wise enough to see that the best way to treat the Goths was to make friends of them. This he did, giving them lands to till, and taking their young men into the pay of his army; so during his reign the Goths were quiet, and even helped him to fight his battles against his Roman enemies. One old chief, who had remained an enemy of the Romans, was received with kindness by Theodosius. After seeing the strength and beauty of the city of Constantinople, he said one day:

"This Emperor is doubtless a god upon earth; and whoever lifts a hand against him is guilty of his own blood."

But the wise and vigorous rule of Theodosius was a short one, and came to an end in the year 395. After that the Roman Empire was divided into an Eastern Empire, with its capital at Constantinople, and a Western Empire, with its capital at Rome. After that, too, the friendly treatment of the Goths came to an end, and a jealous and suspicious policy took its place.

Moreover, a new ruler, named Alaric, had just been chosen by the Goths. He was a fiery young prince, and was the ablest ruler that the West-Goths ever had. He had served in the Roman armies, and had there learned the Roman manner of making war. He was ambitious, too; and when he saw that the Empire was weakened by division, and by the folly of its rulers, he decided that the time had come for action.

So, as an old Gothic writer tells us, "the new King took counsel with his people and they determined to carve out new kingdoms for themselves, rather than, through idleness, to continue the subjects of others."

The Wanderings of the West-Goths

Up to this time the Goths had entered only a little way into the lands of the Empire. Now they were to begin a series of wanderings that took them into Greece, into Italy, into Gaul, and finally into the Spanish peninsula, where they settled down and established a power that lasted for nearly three hundred years.

Their leader, Alaric, was wise enough to see that the Goths could not take a city so strongly walled as Constantinople. He turned his people aside from the attack of that place, and marched them to the plunder of the rich provinces that lay to the South. There they came into lands that had long been famous in the history of the world. Their way first led them through Macedonia, whence the great Alexander had set out to conquer the East. At the pass of Thermopylae, more than eight hundred years before, a handful of heroic Greeks had held a vast army at bay for three whole days; but now their feebler descendants dared not attempt to stay the march of Alaric. The city of Athens, beautiful with marble buildings and statuary, fell into the hands of the Goths without a blow. It was forced to pay a heavy ransom, and then was left "like the bleeding and empty skin of a slaughtered victim."

From Athens Alaric led his forces by the isthmus of Corinth into the southern peninsula of Greece. City after city yielded to the conqueror without resistance. Everywhere villages were burned, cattle were driven off, precious vases, statues, gold and silver ornaments were divided among the barbarians, and multitudes of the inhabitants were slain or reduced to slavery.

GOTHS ON THE MARCH.

In all the armies of the Roman Empire, at this time, there was but one general who was a match for Alaric in daring and skill. He too was descended from the sturdy barbarians of the North. His name was Stilicho, and he was not sent by the Emperor of the West to assist the Eastern Emperor. He succeeded in hemming in the Goths, at first, in the rocky valleys of Southern Greece. But the skill and perseverance of Alaric enabled him to get his men out of the trap, while his enemies feasted and danced in enjoyment of their triumph. Then the Eastern Emperor made Alaric the ruler of one of the provinces of the Empire, and settled his people on the eastern shores of the Adriatic Sea. In this way he hoped that the Goths might again be quieted and the danger turned aside. But Alaric only used the position he had won to gather stores of food, and to manufacture shields, helmets, swords, and spears for his men, in preparation for new adventures.

When all was ready, Alaric again set out, taking with him the entire nation of the West-Goths—men, women, and children—together with all their property and the booty which they had won in Greece. Now their march was to the rich and beautiful lands of Italy, where Alaric hoped to capture Rome itself, and secure the treasures which the Romans had gathered from the ends of the earth.

But the time had not yet come for this. Stilicho was again in arms before him in the broad plains of the river Po. From Gaul, from the provinces of the Rhine, from far-off Britain, troops were hurried to the protection of Italy. On every side the Goths were threatened. Their long-haired chiefs, scarred with honorable wounds, began to hesitate; but their fiery young King cried out that he was resolved "to find in Italy either a kingdom or a grave!"

At last while the Goths were piously celebrating the festival of Easter, the army of Stilicho suddenly attacked them. The Goths fought stubbornly; but after a long and bloody battle Alaric was obliged to lead his men from the field, leaving behind them the slaves and the booty which they had won.

Even then Alaric did not at once give up his plan of forcing his way to Rome. But his men were discouraged; hunger and disease attacked them; their allies deserted them; and at last the young King was obliged to lead his men back to the province on the Adriatic.

For six years Alaric now awaited his time; while Stilicho, meanwhile, beat back other invaders who sought to come into Italy. But the Western Emperor was foolish, and thought the danger was past. He listened to the enemies of Stilicho, and quarreled with him; and at last he had him put to death. At once Alaric planned a new invasion. Barbarian warriors from all lands, attracted by his fame, flocked to his standard. The friends of Stilicho, also, came to his aid. The new generals in Italy proved to be worthless; and the foolish Emperor shut himself up in fear in his palace in the northern part of the peninsula. Alaric meanwhile did not tarry. On and on he pressed, over the Alps, past the plains of the Po, past the palace of the Emperor, on to the "eternal city" of Rome itself.

In the old days, the Romans had been able to conquer Italy and the civilized world, because they were a brave, sturdy people, with a genius for war and for government. But long centuries of unchecked rule had greatly weakened them. Now they led evil and unhealthy lives. They neither worked for themselves, nor fought in their country's cause. Instead, they spent their days in marble baths, at the gladiatorial fights and wild beast shows of the theaters, and in lounging about the Forum.

In the old days Hannibal had thundered at the gates of Rome in vain; but it was not to be so now with Alaric. Three times in three successive years he advanced to the siege of the city. The first time he blockaded it till the people cried out in their hunger and were forced to eat loathsome food. Still no help came from the Emperor, and when they tried to overawe Alaric with the boast of the numbers of their city, he only replied: "The thicker the hay the easier it is mowed."

When asked what terms he would give them, Alaric demanded as ransom all their gold, silver, and precious goods, together with their slaves who were of barbarian blood. In dismay they asked: "And what then will you leave to us?" "Your lives," he grimly replied.

Alaric, however, was not so hard as his word. On payment of a less ransom than he had at first demanded, he consented to retire. But when the foolish Emperor, secure in his palace in Northern Italy, refused to make peace, Alaric advanced once more upon the doomed city, and again it submitted. This time Alaric set up a mock-Emperor of his own to rule. But in a few months he grew tired of him, and overturned him with as little thought as he had shown in setting him up. As a great historian tells us of this Emperor, he was in turn "promoted, degraded, insulted, restored, again degraded, and again insulted, and finally abandoned to his fate."

In the year 410 A.D., Alaric advanced a third time upon the city. This time the gates of Rome were opened by slaves who hoped to gain freedom through the city's fall. For the first time since the burning of Rome by the Gauls, eight hundred years before, the Romans now saw a foreign foe within their gates—slaying, destroying, plundering, committing endless outrages upon the people and their property. To the Romans it seemed that the end of the world was surely at hand.

At the end of the sixth day Alaric and his Goths came forth from the city, carrying their booty and their captives with them. They now marched into the south of Italy, destroying all who resisted and plundering what took their fancy. In this way they came into the southernmost part. There they began busily preparing to cross over into Sicily, to plunder that fertile province.

But this was not to be. In the midst of the preparations, their leader Alaric—"Alaric the Bold," as they loved to call him—suddenly sickened. Soon he grew worse; and after an illness of only a few days, he died, leaving the Goths weakened by the loss of the greatest king they were ever to know.

WEST-GOTHIC TOWER.

Alaric's life had been one of the strangest in history; and his burial was equally strange. His followers wished to lay him where no enemy might disturb his grave. To this end they compelled their captives to dig a new channel for a little river near by, and turn aside its waters. Then, in the old bed of the stream, they buried their beloved leader, clad in his richest armor, and mounted upon his favorite war horse. When all was finished, the stream was turned back into its old channel, and the captives were slain, in order that they might not reveal the place of the burial. And there, to this day, rest the bones of Alaric, the West-Gothic King.

Of the West-Goths after the death of Alaric, we need say very little. The foolish Emperor of the West remained foolish to the end; but his advisers now saw that something must be done to get rid of the barbarians. The new leader of the Goths, too, was a wise and moderate man. He saw that his people, though they could fight well, and overturn a state, were not yet ready to take the government of Rome for themselves.

"I wish," he said, "not to destroy, but to restore and maintain the prosperity of the Roman Empire."

Other barbarians had meanwhile pressed into the Empire; so it was agreed that the Goths should march into Gaul and Spain, drive out the barbarians who had pushed in there, and rule the land in the name of the Emperor of the West. This they did; and there they established a power which became strong and prosperous, and lasted until new barbarians from the North, and the Moors from Africa, pressed in upon them, and brought, at the same time, their kingdom and their history to an end.

Fall of the Western Empire

While the West-Goths were winning lands and booty within the Empire, the other Germans could not long remain idle. They saw that the legions had been recalled from the frontiers in order to guard Italy. They saw their own people suffering from hunger and want. Behind them, too, they felt the pressure of other nations, driving them from their pastures and hunting grounds.

So the news of Rome's weakness and Alaric's victories filled other peoples with eagerness to try their fortunes in the Southern lands. Before the Wast-Goths had settled down in Spain, other tribes had begun to stream across the borders of the Empire. Soon the stream became a flood, and the flood a deluge. All Germany seemed stirred up and hurled against the Empire. Wave after wave swept southward. Horde after horde appeared within the limits of the Empire, seeking lands and goods.

For two hundred years this went on. Armies and nations went wandering up and down, burning, robbing, slaying, and making captives. It was a time of confusion, suffering, and change; when the "uncouth Goth," the "horrid Hun," and wild-eyed peoples of many names, struggled for the lands of Rome. They sought only their own gain and advantage, and it seemed that everything was being overturned and nothing built up to take the place of what was destroyed.

But this was only in seeming. Unknowingly, these nations were laying the foundations of a new civilization and a new world. For out of this mixing of peoples and institutions, this blending of civilizations, arose the nations, the states, the institutions, of the world of to-day.

In following the history of the West-Goths we have seen that some of these peoples had preceded the Goths into Spain. These were a race called the VANDALS. They too were of German blood. At one time they had dwelt on the shores of the Baltic Sea, near the mouth of the river Elbe. From there they had wandered southward and westward, struggling with other barbarian tribes and with the remaining troops of Rome's imperial army. After many hard-fought contests they had crossed the river Rhine. They had then struggled through Gaul, and at last had reached Spain. Now they were to be driven from that land, too, by the arrival of the West-Goths.

Just at this time the governor of the Roman province of Africa rebelled against the Emperor's government. To get assistance against the Romans, he invited the Vandals to come to Africa, promising them lands and booty. The Vandals needed no second invitation. The Strait of Gibraltar, which separates the shores of Spain from Africa, is only fifteen miles wide; but when once the Vandals were across that strait, they were never to be driven back again.

Twenty-five thousand warriors, together with their women, children, and the old men, came at the call of the rebellious governor. There they set up a kingdom of their own on Roman soil. A cruel, greedy people they were, but able. From their capital,—the old city of Carthage,—their pirate ships rowed up and down the Mediterranean, stopping now at this place and now at that, wherever they saw a chance for plunder. Their King was the most crafty, the most treacherous, the most merciless of the barbarian kings.

"Whither shall we sail?" asked his pilot one day, as the King and his men set out. "Guide us," said the King, "wherever there is a people with whom God is angry."

The most famous of the Vandal raids was the one which they made on the city of Rome, forty-five years after it had been plundered by Alaric. The rulers of the Romans were as worthless now as they had been at the earlier day. Again, too, it was at the invitation of a Roman that the Vandals invaded Roman territory. No defense of the city was attempted; but Leo, the holy bishop of Rome, went out with his priests, and tried to soften the fierceness of the barbarian King. For fourteen days the city remained in the hands of the Vandals; and it was plundered to their hearts' content. Besides much rich booty which they carried off, many works of art were broken and destroyed. Because of such destruction as this, the name "Vandal" is still given to anyone who destroys beautiful or useful things recklessly, or solely for the sake of destroying them.

COURT OF THE HUNS.

Another of the restless German peoples were the BURGUNDIANS. They, too, had once dwelt in the North of German, and had crossed the river Rhine in company with the Vandals. Gradually they had then spread southward into Gaul; and the result was the founding of a kingdom of the Burgundians in the valley of the Rhone River. From that day to this the name Burgundy,—as kingdom, dukedom, county, province,—has remained a famous one in the geography of Europe. But this people was never able to grow into a powerful and independent nation.

While the Germans were finding new homes in Roman territory, the restless Huns were ever pressing in from the rear, driving them on and taking their lands as they left. At the time when the Vandals were establishing their kingdom in Africa, and the Saxons were just beginning to come into Britain, a great King arose among the Huns. His name was Attila. Though he was a great warrior and ruler, he was far from being a handsome man. He had a large head, a flat nose, a few hairs in the place of a beard, broad shoulders, and a short square body.

The chief god of the Huns was a god of war. As they did not know how to make statues or images of him, they represented him by a sword or dagger. One day a shepherd found an old sword sticking out of the ground, and brought it to Attila. This, the King said, was a sign that the whole earth should be ruled over by him.

Whether he believed in this sign himself or not, Attila used his own sword so successfully that he formed the scattered tribes of the Huns into a great nation. By wars and treaties he succeeded in establishing a vast empire, including all the peoples from the river Volga to the river Rhine. The lands of the Eastern Empire, too, were wasted by him, even up to the walls of Constantinople. The Empire was forced to pay him tribute; and an Emperor's sister sent him her ring, and begged him to rescue her from the convent in which her brother had confined her.

In the year 451 A.D., Attila gathered up his wild horsemen, and set out from his wooden capital in the valley of the Danube. Southward and westward they swept to conquer and destroy. It is said that Attila called himself the "Scourge of God." At any rate his victims knew that ruin and destruction followed in his track; and where he had passed, they said, not a blade of grass was left growing. On and on the Huns passed, through Germany, as far as Western Gaul; and men expected that all Europe would fall under the rule of this fierce people.

This, however, did not come to pass. Near the city of Chalons, in Eastern France, a great battle was fought, in which Romans and Goths fought side by side against the common foe, and all the peoples of Europe seemed engaged in one battle. Rivers of blood, it was said, flowed through the field, and whoever drank of their waters perished. At the close of the first day, the victory was still uncertain. On the next day Attila refused to renew the battle; and when the Romans and Goths drew near his camp, they found it silent and empty. The Huns had slipped away in the night, and returned to their homes on the Danube.

Many legends came to cluster about this battle. In later ages men told how, each year on the night of the battle, the spirits of Goths and Huns arose from their graves, and fought the battle over again in the clouds of the upper air.

The next year Attila came again, with a mighty army, into the Roman lands. This time he turned his attention to Italy. A city lying at the head of the Adriatic was destroyed; and its people then founded Venice on the isles of the sea, that they might thenceforth be free from such attacks. Perhaps Attila might have pressed on to Rome and taken it, too, as Alaric had done, and as the Vandals were to do three years later. But strange misgivings fell upon him. Leo, the holy bishop of Rome, appeared in his court and warned him off. Attila, therefore, retreated, and left Rome untouched. Within two years afterward he died; and then his great empire dropped to pieces, and his people fell to fighting once more among themselves. In this way Christian Europe was delivered from one of the greatest dangers that ever threatened it.

Gaul, Spain, Africa, and Britain, had now been lost by the Romans; but amid all these troubles, the imperial government, both in the East and in the West, still went on. In the West the power had fallen more and more into the hands of chiefs of the Roman army. These men were often barbarians by blood, and did not care to be emperors themselves. Instead, however, they set up and pulled down emperors at will, as Alaric had once done.

In the year 476 A.D.—just thirteen hundred years before the signing of our Declaration of Independence,—the Emperor who was then ruling in the West was a boy of tender years, named Romulus Augustus. He bore the names of the first of the kings of Rome, and of the first of the emperors; but he was to be the last of either. A new leader had now arisen in the army,—a gigantic German, named Odoacer. When Odoacer was about to come into Italy to enter the Roman army, a holy hermit had said to him: "Follow out your plan, and go. There you will soon be able to throw away the coarse garment of skins which you now wear, and will become wealthy and powerful."

He had followed this advice, and had risen to be the commander of the Roman army. The old leader, who had put Romulus Augustulus on the throne, was now slain by Odoacer, and the boy was then quietly put aside.

Odoacer thus made himself ruler of Italy; but he neither took the name of Emperor himself, nor gave it to any one else. He sent messengers instead to the Emperor of the East, at Constantinople, and laid at his feet the crown and purple robe. He said, in actions, if not in words: "One Emperor is enough for both East and West. I will rule Italy in your name and as your agent."

This is sometimes called the fall of the Western Empire; and so it was. Yet there was not so very much change at first. Odoacer ruled in Italy in much the same way as the Emperors had done, except that his rule was better and stronger.

East-Goths and Lombards

After sixteen years Odoacer was overthrown, and a new ruler arose in his place. This was Theodoric, the King of the EAST-GOTHS. From the days of the battle of Adrianople to the death of Attila, this people had been subject to the Huns. At the battle of Chalons they had fought on the side of the Huns, and against their kinsmen, the West-Goths. Now, however, they were free; and a great leader had arisen among them in the person of Theodoric, the descendant of a long line of Gothic kings.

When Theodoric was a young boy, he had been sent as a hostage to Constantinople, where he had lived for ten years. There he had learned to like the cultured manners of the Romans, but he had not forgotten how to fight. When he had returned home, a handsome lad of seventeen, he had gathered together an army, and without guidance from his father, had captured an important city. This act showed his ability; and when his father died he was acknowledged as the King of his people. He was a man of great strength and courage; he was also wise and anxious for his people to improve. For some years his people had been wandering up and down in the Eastern Empire; but they were unable to master that land because of Constantinople's massive walls. So, with the consent of the Emperor, Theodoric now decided to lead his East-Goths into Italy, drive Odoacer from the land, and settle his people there.

The Goths set out over the Eastern Alps, two hundred thousand strong. With them went their wives and children, their slaves and cattle, and behind came twenty thousand lumbering ox carts laden with their goods. But Odoacer proved a stubborn fighter. Several hard battles had to be fought, and a siege three years long had to be laid to his capital before he was beaten. Then Theodoric, for almost the first and last time in his life, did a mean and treacherous act. His conquered enemy was invited to a friendly banquet; and there he was put to death with his own sword.

In this way Theodoric completed the conquest that made him master of the whole of Italy, together with a large territory to the North and East of the Adriatic Sea.

For thirty-three years after that, Theodoric ruled over the kingdom of the East-Goths, as a wise and able king. Equal justice was granted to all, whether they were Goths or Italians; and Theodoric sought in every way to lead his people into a settled and civilized life. The old roads, aqueducts, and public buildings were repaired; and new works in many places were erected.

TOMB OF THEODORIC.

Theodoric was not only a great warrior and statesman; he was also a man of deep and wide thought. If any man and any people were suited to build up a new kingdom out of the ruins of the Empire, and end the long period of disorder and confusion which we call the Dark Ages, it would seem that it was Theodoric, and his East-Goths. But no sooner was Theodoric dead, than his kingdom began to fall to pieces.

The Eastern Empire had now passed into the hands of an able Emperor, who is renowned as a conqueror, a builder, and a law-giver. His name was JUSTINIAN; and he was served by men as great as himself. Under their skillful attacks, much of the lands which had been lost were now won back. The Vandal kingdom in Africa was overturned; the islands of Sicily, Corsica, and Sardinia were recovered; and at last, after years of hard fighting, the East-Goths too were conquered. The last remnant of that race then wandered north of the Alps, and disappeared from history.

It was only for a little while, however, that the Eastern Emperor was able once more to rule all Italy. Within thirteen years a new Germanic people appeared on the scene,—the last to find a settlement within the Empire. These were the LOMBARDS, or "Langobards," as they were called from their long beards. Ten generations before, according to their legends, a wise queen had led their race across the Baltic Sea, from what is now Sweden, to Germany. Since then they had gradually worked their way south, until now they were on the borders of Italy. The northern parts of the peninsula at this time were almost uninhabited, as a result of years of war and pestilence. The resistance to the Lombards, therefore, was very weak; and the whole valley of the river Po—thenceforth to this day called "Lombard"—passed into their hands almost at a blow.

IVORY COMB OF A LOMBARD QUEEN.

These Lombards were a rude people and but little civilized, when they first entered Italy. It was not until some time after they had settled there, that they even became Christians. A wild story is told of the King who led them into Italy. He had slain with his own hand the King of another German folk, and from his enemy's skull he had made a drinking cup, mounted in gold. His wife was the daughter of the King he had slain. Some time after, as he sat long at the table in his capital, he grew boisterous; and sending for the cup, he forced his Queen to drink from it bidding her "drink joyfully with her father." At this the Queen's heart was filled with grief and anger, and she plotted how she might revenge her father upon her husband. So, while the King slept one night, she caused an armed man to creep into the room and slay him. In this way she secured her revenge; but she, and all who had helped her, came to evil ends,—for, as an old writer says, "the hand of Heaven was upon them for doing so foul a deed."

The Lombards were not so strongly united as most of the Germans, nor was their form of government so highly developed. Many independent bands of Lombards settled districts in Central and Southern Italy, under the rule of their own leaders, or "dukes." In this way the peninsula was cut up into many governments. The northern part was under the Lombard King; a number of petty dukes each ruled over his own district; and the remainder, including the city of Rome, was ruled by the officers of the Eastern Emperor.

The kingdom of the Lombards lasted for about two hundred years. Then it, too, was overturned, and the land was conquered by a new German people, the greatest of them all and the only one, with the exception of the English, that was to establish a lasting kingdom. These were the FRANKS, who settled in Gaul, and founded France. But before we trace their history we must first turn aside and see how the Christian Church was gaining in strength and power in this dark period of warfare and confusion.

Growth of the Christian Church

In another book you may have read of the trials which the early Christians had to endure under the Roman rule;—of how they were looked upon with scorn and suspicion; how they were persecuted; how they were forced to meet in secret caves called catacombs, where they worshiped, and buried their dead; and how at last, after many martyrs had shed their blood in witness to their faith, the Emperor Constantine allowed them to worship freely, and even himself became a Christian. After this, Christianity had spread rapidly in the Roman Empire; so that by the time the German tribes began to pour across the borders, almost all of the people who were ruled by the Emperor had adopted the Christian religion, and the old Roman worship of Jupiter, Mars, and Minerva was fast becoming a thing of the past.

When Christianity had become the religion of many people, it was necessary for the Church to have some 53 form of organization; and such an organization speedily began to grow. First we find some of the Christians set aside to act as priests, and have charge of the services in the church. We find next among the priests in each city one who comes to be styled the "overseeing priest" or bishop, whose duty it was to look after the affairs of the churches in his district. Gradually, too, the bishops in the more important cities come to have certain powers over the bishops of the smaller cities about them; these were then called "archbishops." And finally, there came to be one out of the many hundred bishops of the Church who was looked up to more than any other person, and whose advice was sought in all important Church questions. This was because he had charge of the church in Rome, the most important city of the Empire, and because he was believed to be the successor of St. Peter, the chief of the Apostles. The name "Pope," which means father, was given to him; and it was his duty to watch over all the affairs of the Church on earth, as a father watches over the affairs of his family.

BISHOP, HOLDING THE CROZIER, ON A THRONE

Of course, all this organization did not spring up at once, ready made. Great things grow slowly; and it was only slowly that this organization grew. Sometimes disputes arose as to the amount of power the priests should have over the "laymen," as those who were priests were called; and sometimes there were disputes among the "clergy" or churchmen, themselves. Sometimes these disputes were about power, and lands, and things of that sort; for now the Church had become wealthy and powerful, through gifts made to it by rulers and pious laymen. More often the questions to be settled had to do with the belief of the Church,—that is, with the exact meaning of the teachings of Christ and the Apostles, as they are recorded in the Bible and in the writings of the early Christian teachers. Many of the questions which were discussed seem strange to us; but men were very much in earnest about them then. And at times, when a hard question arose concerning the belief of the Church, men would travel hundreds of miles to the great Church Councils or meetings where the matter was to be decided, and undergo hardships and sufferings without number, to see that the question was decided as they thought was right.

One of the questions which caused most trouble was brought forward by an Egyptian priest named Arius. He claimed that Christ the Son was not equal in power and glory to God the Father. Another Egyptian priest named Athanasius thought this was a wrong belief, or "heresy"; so he combated the belief of Arius in every way that he could. Soon the whole Christian world rang with the controversy. To settle the dispute the first great Council of the Church was called by the Emperor Constantine in the year 325 A.D.It met at Nicaea, a city in Asia Minor. There "Arianism" was condemned, and the teaching of Athanasius was declared to be the true belief of the Church. But this did not end the struggle. The followers of Arius would not give up, and for a while they were stronger than their opponents. Five times Athanasius was driven from his position of archbishop in Egypt, and for twenty years he was forced to live an exile from his native land But he never faltered, and never ceased to write, preach, and argue for the belief which the Council had declared to be the true one. Even after Arius and Athanasius were both dead, the quarrel still went on. Indeed, it was nearly two hundred years before the last of the "Arians" gave up their view of the matter; but in the end the teachings of Athanasius became the belief of the whole Church.

One consequence of this dispute about Arianism was that the churches in the East and West began to drift apart. The Western churches followed the lead of the bishop of Rome and supported Athanasius in the struggle, while the Eastern churches for a time supported Arius. Even after Arianism had been given up, a quarrel still existed concerning the relation of the Holy Ghost to the Father and Son. As time went on, still other disputes arose between the East and West. The Roman clergy shaved their faces and were not permitted to marry, while the Greek clergy let their beards grow, and married and had children. Moreover Rome and Constantinople could not agree as to whether leavened or unleavened bread should be used in the Lord's Supper. Still less could the great bishop of Constantinople, where the Emperor held his court, admit that the power of the bishop of Rome was above his own. Each side looked with contempt and distrust upon the other; for the one were Greeks and the other Latins, and the differences of race and language made it difficult for them to understand one another.

Gradually the breach grew wider and wider. At last, after many, many years of ill feeling, the two churches broke off all relations. After that there was always a Greek Catholic Church (which exists to this day) as well as a Roman one; and the power of the Pope was acknowledged only by the churches in the Western or Latin half of the world.

The Church, of course, was as much changed by the conquests of the Germans as was the rest of the Roman world. The barbarians who settled in the lands of the Empire had already become Christians, for the most part, before the conquest, but they were still ignorant barbarians. Worst of all, the views which they had been taught at first were those held by the Arians; and this made them more feared and hated by the Roman Christians. Among the citizens of the Empire, as well as among the barbarians, there was also much wickedness, oppression, and unfair dealing.

"The world is full of confusion," wrote one holy man. "No one trusts any one; each man is afraid of his neighbor. Many are the fleeces beneath which are concealed innumerable wolves, so that one might live more safely among enemies than among those who appear to be friends."

The result of this was that man began to turn from the world to God. Many went out into the deserts of Egypt, and other waste and solitary places, and became hermits. There they lived, clothed in rags or the skins of wild beasts, and eating the coarsest food, in order that they might escape from the temptations of the world. The more they punished their bodies, the more they thought it helped their souls; so all sorts of strange deeds were performed by them. Perhaps the strangest case of all was that of a man named Simeon, who was called "Stylites," from the way in which he lived. For thirty years,—day and night, summer and winter,—he dwelt on the top of a high pillar, so narrow that there was barely room for him to lie down. There for hours at a time he would stand praying, with his arms stretched out in the form of a cross; or else he would pass hours bowing his wasted body rapidly from his forehead to his feet, until at times the people who stood by counted a thousand bows without a single stop.

A MONK.

Such things as these happened more frequently in the Eastern than they did in the Western Church. In the West, men were more practical, and when they wished to flee from the world, they went into waste places and founded "monasteries," where the "monks," as they were called, dwelt together under the rule of an abbot.

In the West, too, the power of the bishop of Rome became much greater than that possessed in the East by the bishop of Constantinople. It was because the Pope was already the leading man in Rome that Leo went out to meet the Huns and the Vandals, and tried to save Rome from them. About one hundred and forty years later, Pope Gregory the Great occupied even a higher position. He not only had charge of the churches near Rome, and was looked up to by the churches of Gaul, Spain and Africa more than Leo had been; but he also ruled the land about Rome much as an emperor or king ruled his kingdom.

Gregory was born of a noble and wealthy Roman family. When he inherited his fortune he gave it all to found seven monasteries, and he himself became a monk in one of these. There he lived a severe and studious life. At length, against his own wishes, he was chosen by the clergy and people to be Pope. This was in the very midst of the Dark Ages. The Lombards had just come into Italy, and everything was in confusion. Everywhere cities were ruined, churches burned, and monasteries destroyed. Farms were laid waste and left uncultivated; and wild beasts roamed over the deserted fields. For twenty-seven years, Gregory wrote, Rome had been in terror of the sword of the Lombards. "What is happening in other countries," he said, "we know not; but in this the end of the world seems not only to be approaching, but to have actually begun." The rulers that the Eastern Emperors set up in Italy, after it had been recovered from the East-Goths, either could not or would not help. And to make matters worse, famine and sickness came, and the people died by hundreds.

So Gregory was obliged to act not only as the bishop of Rome, but as its ruler also. He caused processions to march about the city, and prayers to be said, to stop the sickness. He caused grain to be brought and given to the people, so that they might no longer die of famine. He also defended the city against the Lombards, until a peace could be made. In this way a beginning was made of the rule of the Pope over Rome, which did not come to an end until the year 1871.

Gregory was not only bishop of Rome, and ruler of the city. He was also the head of the whole Western Church, and was constantly busy with its affairs.

Before he was chosen Pope, Gregory was passing through the market-place at Rome, one day, and came to the spot where slaves—white slaves—were sold. There he saw some beautiful, fair-haired boys.

"From what country do these boys come?" he asked.

"From the island of Britain," was the answer.

"Are they Christians?"

"No," he was told; "they are still pagans."

"Alas!" exclaimed Gregory, "that the Prince of Darkness should have power over forms of such loveliness."

Then he asked of what nation they were.

"They are Angles," replied their owner.

"Truly," said Gregory, "they seem like angels, not Angles. From what province of Britain are they?"

"From Deira," said the man naming a kingdom in the northern part of the island.

"Then," said Gregory, making a pun in the Latin, "they must be rescued de ira  [from the wrath of God]. And what is the name of their king?"

"Aella," was the answer.

"Yea," said Gregory, as he turned to go, "Alleluia must be sung in the land of Aella."

At first Gregory planned to go himself as missionary to convert the Angles and Saxons. In this he was disappointed; but when he became Pope he sent a monk named Augustine as leader of a band of missionaries. By their preaching, Christianity was introduced into the English kingdoms, and the English were gradually won from the old German worship of Woden and Thor.

Gregory also had an important part in winning the West-Goths and Lombards from Arianism to the true faith. In all that he did Gregory's action seemed so wise and good that men said he was counselled by the Holy Spirit; and in the pictures of him the Holy Spirit is always represented, in the form of a dove, hovering about his head.

Gregory has been called the real father of the Papacy of the Middle Ages. This is no small praise, for the Papacy, in those dark ages, was of great service to Christendom. In later ages, popes sometimes became corrupt; and at last the Reformation came, in which many nations of the West threw off their obedience. But in the dark days of the Middle Ages, all the Western nations looked up to the Pope as the head of the Church on earth, and the influence of the popes was for good. There was very little order, union, and love for right and justice in the Middle Ages, as it was; but no one can imagine how much greater would have been the confusion, the lawlessness, and the disorder without the restraining influence of the Papacy.

Rise of the Franks

The West-Goths, the Burgundians, the Vandals, the East-Goths, and the Lombards, all helped in their own way to make Europe what it is to-day; yet none of them succeeded in founding a power that was to last as a separate state. Their work was largely to break down the rule of the Western Empire. The building up of a new state to take its place was to be the work of another people, the FRANKS.

The Franks were the earliest of all the Germanic invaders to fix themselves in the Roman province of Gaul, but they were the last to establish a power of their own in that land.

Gaul, in the five hundred years that had passed since its conquest by Julius Caesar, had become more Roman even than Italy itself. In its long rule by foreigners, however, it had decayed in strength. The spirit of patriotism had died out; the people in the latter days of the Empire had been ground down by oppressive taxation; so it no more than the other provinces was able to offer resistance to the barbarians.

A hundred years before the West-Goths crossed the Danube, bands of the Franks had been allowed to cross the Rhine, from their homes on the right bank of that river, and to establish themselves as the allies or subjects of Rome on the western bank. There they had dwelt, gaining in numbers and in power, until news came of the deeds of Alaric. When the Vandals, Burgundians, and other Germanic tribes sought to cross the Rhine, the Franks on the left bank resisted them, but their resistance had been overcome.

FRANKS CROSSING THE RHINE

Then the Franks also set out to build up a power of their own within the Roman territory. Gradually they occupied what is now northern France, together with Belgium and Holland. When the Huns swept into Gaul, the Franks had fought against them, side by side with the Romans and West-Goths. And when Attila was defeated and had retired, the Franks were allowed to take possession of certain cities in the valley of the Rhine which the Huns had won from the Romans.

So, by the time that Odoacer overthrew the last of the Roman Emperors of the West, the Franks had succeeded in getting a good footing in the Empire. But they were yet far from strong as a people. They were still heathen, and they had not yet learned, like the Goths, to wear armor or fight on horseback. They still went to war half-naked, armed only with a barbed javelin, a sword, and an ax or tomahawk. They were not united, but were divided into a large number of small tribes, each ruled over by its own petty king.

ARMS OF THE FRANKS.

Besides all this, they had many rivals, even in Gaul itself. In the southern part of that land, reaching across the Pyrenees and taking in nearly the whole of Spain was the kingdom of the West-Goths. In the southeastern part was the kingdom of the Burgundians. In the central part, the region that included the river Seine, a Roman officer named Syagrius still ruled, though the last of the Emperors of the West had fallen. And to the East of Gaul, were tribes who still remained on German soil—the Thuringians, some tribes of the Saxons, and the Allemanians.

It was mainly due to one man that the Frankish power was not overcome, but instead was able to overcome all its enemies. This man was Clovis, the King of one of the little bands of the Franks. Five years after the fall of Rome, he had succeeded his father as King of his tribe. Though he was only sixteen years of age at that time, he soon proved himself to be one of the ablest, but alas, one of the craftiest and cruelest leaders of this crafty and cruel people. In the thirty years that he ruled, he united all the Franks under his own rule; he greatly improved the arms and organization of the army; he extended their territory to the South, East, and West; and he caused his people to be baptized as Christians.

A FRANKISH CHIEF.

One of the first deeds of Clovis was to make war on Syagrius, the Roman ruler. In this war the Franks were completely successful. Syagrius was defeated, and put to death; and the district over which he ruled became subject to Clovis. A story is told of this war which shows the rude and independent spirit of the Franks. When the booty was being divided by lot after the battle, Clovis wished to obtain a beautiful vase that had been taken from one of the churches, that he might return it to the priests. But one of his Franks cried out:

"Thou shalt have only what the lot gives thee!" And saying this he broke the vase with his battle-ax.

Clovis could do nothing then to resent this insult. But the next year he detected this soldier in a fault, and slew him in the presence of the army, saying:

"It shall be done to thee as thou didst to the vase!"

After the overthrow of Syagrius, Clovis turned to the conquest of other neighbors. One by one he set to work to get rid of the other kings of the Franks. Some he conquered by force; others he overcame by treachery. He persuaded the son of one king to kill his father; then he had the son put to death for the crime, and persuaded the people to take him as their king. Another king and his son were slain because they had failed to help Clovis in his wars; and he took their kingdom also. A third king was slain by Clovis's own hand, after he had been betrayed into his power. Still others of his rivals and relatives were got rid of in the same way. Then, when all were gone, he assembled the people and said:

"Alas! I have now no relatives to lend me aid in time of need."

But he did this, as an old writer says, not because he was made sad by their death, but craftily, that he might discover whether there remained any one else to kill.

In this way Clovis made himself sole King of the Franks. Already he had begun to extend his rule over other branches of the German people. The Allemanians, who dwelt to the eastward of the Franks, were beaten in a war which lasted several years, and were forced to take the King of the Franks as their overlord. After this the Franks began to settle in the valley of the river Main, where the Allemanians had dwelt; and in course of time this district came to be called Franconia, from their name.

Several wars too were waged between Clovis and the Burgundians; and here also the power of the Franks was increased. Most important of all were the conquests made from the West-Goths, who held Southern Gaul and Spain. Again and again Clovis led his Franks against this people. At one time Theodoric, the king of the East-Goths came to their aid and defeated Clovis with terrible slaughter. But in the end the Franks were victorious, and most of Southern Gaul was added to the Frankish territory.

Thus Clovis won for the Franks a kingdom which reached from the River Rhine on the North and East, almost to the Pyrenees Mountains on the South. To all this land, which before had borne the name Gaul, the name "Francia" was gradually applied, from the race that conquered it; and under the name of France it is still one of the most powerful states of Europe.

When Clovis first became King, the Franks worshiped the old gods, Woden and Thor. Before he died, however, he and most of his people had been baptized and become Christians. His conversion came about in this way. While he was fighting against the Allemanians, he saw his Franks one day driven from the field by the enemy. He prayed to the old gods to turn the defeat into victory; but still his troops gave way. Then he bethought him that his wife Clotilda had long been urging him to give up his old gods and become a Christian. He determined now to try the God of his wife; so he cried out:

"O Christ Jesus, I beseech thee for aid! If thou wilt grant me victory over these enemies, I will believe in thee and be baptized in thy name!"

BAPTISM OF CLOVIS.

With this he renewed the battle, and at last won a great victory. As a result, Clovis became a Christian, and more than half of his warriors decided to follow his example. When the news was brought to the priests, they were filled with joy, and at once preparations were made for the baptism. Painted awnings were hung over the streets. The churches were draped in white, and clouds of sweet smelling smoke arose from the censers in which incense was burning. The King was baptized first, and as he approached the basin the bishop cried out:

"Bow thy head, O King, and adore that which thou hast burned, and burn that which thou hast adored!"

After this, Clovis was, in name, a Christian; but his conversion was only half a conversion. He changed his beliefs, but not his conduct. When the story was told him of the way Jesus suffered death on the cross, he grasped his battle-ax fiercely and exclaimed:

"If I had been there with my Franks I would have revenged his wrongs!"

So, in spite of his conversion, Clovis remained a rude warrior, a cruel and unscrupulous ruler. Nevertheless, his conversion was of very great importance. The Goths, Vandals, and Burgundians, had all been Christians at the time they invaded the Empire, but their Christianity was not of the kind the Romans of the West accepted. They were Arian Christians, and, as we have seen, there was great hatred between the Arians and the Roman or Athanasian Christians. In Africa, Spain, and Italy, therefore, the people hated their Arian masters. But it was different with the Franks. Because they believed as the Roman Christians did, their Roman subjects in Gaul accepted and supported their rule, and the Pope showed himself friendly to them.

This is one of the two chief reasons why the Frankish power was permanent. The other reason was that the Franks did not wholly leave their old home, as the other Germans did when they set out on their conquest. The Franks kept what they already had, while adding to it the neighboring lands which they had conquered. So their increase in power was a growth, as well as a conquest; and this made it more lasting.

When the barbarians conquered portions of the Roman Empire they did not kill or drive out the people who already lived there. Usually they contented themselves with taking some of the lands for themselves, and making the people pay to them the taxes which they had before paid to the Roman emperors. So it was with the Franks. The people of Gaul were allowed to remain, and to keep most of their lands; but the Franks, although they were not nearly so numerous as the Romans, ruled over the state. The old inhabitants were highly civilized while the Franks were just taking the first steps in civilization.

"We make fun of them," wrote one of these Romans, "we despise them,—but we fear them also."

As the years went by, the differences between the conquerors and the conquered became less. The Romans found that times were changed and they had to adopt the habits of the Franks in some respects. The Franks had already adopted the religion of their subjects; they began also to adopt their language and some of their customs. In this way, the two peoples at last became as one; but it was not until long after the time of Clovis that this end was fully reached.

Descendants of Clovis

When Clovis died, he left four sons. The Germans followed the practice of dividing the property of the father equally among his male children. The Franks now applied this rule to the kingdom which Clovis left, and divided it just as though it were ordinary property. Each son received a portion of the kingdom, and each was independent of the others. This plan turned out very badly and caused a great deal of misery. None of the kings was ever satisfied with his own portion; but each wished to secure for himself the whole kingdom which Clovis had ruled.

So murders and civil wars became very common among these "Merovingian" princes, as they were called. Almost all of the descendants of Clovis died a violent death; or else their long hair,—which was their pride and the mark of their kingship,—was cut and they were forced into monasteries.

At one time, when one of the sons of Clovis died, his two brothers sent a message to their mother Clotilda saying:

"Send us our brother's children, that we may place them on the throne."

When the children were sent, a messenger came back to the grandmother, bearing a sword and a pair of shears, and telling her to choose whether the boys should be shorn or slain. In despair the old queen cried out:

"I would rather know that they were dead than shorn!"

Probably she did not mean this; but the pitiless uncles took her at her word. Two of the boys were cruelly slain; the third escaped from their hands, and to save his life he cut off his own hair and became a priest.

DESCENDANTS OF CLOVIS.

After a time the land of the Franks was divided into two divisions, and the people were called respectively East Franks and West Franks. Each land had a separate government. The West Franks gradually came to speak a language which was based on the old Latin language which the Romans had introduced into Gaul; and, long afterward, this grew into the French tongue of to-day. The East Franks, on the other hand, kept their old Germanic tongue, which finally developed into the German language as it is now spoken.

About a hundred years after the time of Clovis, two terrible women were queens in these lands. Their names were Fredegonda and Brunhilda; and their jealousy and hatred of each other caused them to commit many murders and stir up many wars. It is hard to say which of the two was the worse, but we feel some pity for Brunhilda because of her terrible end. She had murdered her grandchildren in order that she might keep the power in her own hands, and she was charged with causing the death of ten kings of Frankish race. But at last she fell into the hands of her enemies; and although she was an old woman of eighty years, she was put to death by being dragged at the heels of a wild horse. Her terrible rival had died some years before.

In many respects the laws of the Franks, and indeed of all the Germans, seem very strange to us. One of their strangest customs was that of the "feud," as it was called, and the "wergeld." Both of these had to do with such struggles as the one between Brunhilda and Fredegonda. In our day, and also among the Romans, if any one injured a man or killed him, the man or his family could go to law about it, and have the person who did the injury punished. But among the old Germans the courts of law had very little power, and many preferred to right their own wrongs. When a man was killed, his relatives would try to kill the slayer. Then the relatives of the slayer would try to protect him; and in this way a little war would arise between the two families. This was called a "feud"; and the struggle would go on until the number killed on each side equaled the number killed on the other.

By and by men began to see that this was a poor way of settling their grievances. Then it became the practice for the man who did the injury to pay a sum of money to the one who was injured; and the families helped in this, just as they had in the feud. When the payment was given for the slaying of a person it was styled "wergeld" or "man-money."

After this the feud was only used when the offender could not or would not pay the wergeld. Every man,—indeed every part of the body from a joint of the little finger up to the whole man,—came to have its price; and the wergeld of a Frank or of a Goth was about twice that of a Roman; and the wergeld of a person in the King's service was three times that of a simple freeman.

Another interesting thing about the old Germanic law was the way the trials were carried on. Let us suppose that a man is accused of stealing. We should at once try to find out whether any one had seen him commit the theft; that is, we should examine witnesses, and try to find out all the facts in the case. That was also the Roman way of doing things; but it was not the German way.

The Germans had several ways of trying cases, the most curious of which was the "ordeal." If they used this, they might force the man who was accused to plunge his hand into a pot of boiling water and pick up some small object from the bottom. Then the man's hand was wrapped up and sealed; and if in three days there was no mark of scalding, the man was declared innocent. In this way they left the decision of the case to God; for they thought that he would not permit an innocent man to suffer.

MEROVINGIAN KING ON AN OX-CART.

Besides this form of the ordeal, there were also others. In one of these the person accused had to carry a piece of red-hot iron in his hand for a certain distance. In another he was thrown, with hands and feet tied, into a running stream. If he floated, he was considered guilty; but if he sank, he was innocent, and must at once be pulled out. All of these forms of trial seem very absurd to us, but to men of the early Middle Ages they seemed perfectly natural; and they continued to be used until the thirteenth century.

In spite of the wickedness of the descendants of Clovis, and in spite of the divisions of the kingdom, the power of the Franks continued to increase. For about one hundred and seventy years the Merovingian kings were powerful rulers; then, for about one hundred years they gradually lost power until they became so unimportant that they are called "do-nothing" kings.

The rich estates which Clovis had left to his descendants were not wasted, through the reckless grants which the kings had made to their nobles. So poor were the kings that they could boast of but small estates and a scanty income; and when they wished to go from place to place they were forced to travel in an ox-cart, after the manner of the peasants. Now they had few followers, where before their warbands had numbered hundreds. All this made the kings so weak that the nobles no longer obeyed them. The government was left more and more to the charge of the kings' ministers; while the kings themselves were content to wear their long flowing hair, and sit upon the throne as figureheads.

The time had come when, indeed, the kings "did nothing." They reigned, but they did not rule.

Mohammed and the Mohammedans

While the descendants of Clovis were struggling with one another for his kingdom, and while the Church was gaining in wealth and in power, a danger was arising in the East that was to threaten both with ruin.

This danger was caused by the rise of a new religion among the Arabs. Arabia is a desert land for the most part; and the people gained their living by wandering with their camels and herds from oasis to oasis, or else by carrying on trade between India and the West, by means of caravans across the deserts. The people themselves were like grown-up children in many ways. They had poetic minds, and impulsive and generous hearts; but they were ignorant and superstitious, and often very cruel. Up to this time they had never been united under one government, nor had they all believed in the same religion. Some tribes worshiped the stars of heaven, others worshiped "fetiches" of sticks and stones and others believed in gods or demons called "genii." If you have read the story of Aladdin and his wonderful lamp, in the "Arabian Nights," you will know what the "genii" were like. Arabia is so near Palestine that it will not surprise you to hear that the Arabs had also learned something of the religion of the Jews, and of the Christians. But until the seventh century after Christ, the Arabs remained, in spite of this, a rude and idolatrous people, without any faith or government which all acknowledged.

THE CITY OF MECCA.

In the seventh century came a change. The Arabs then became a united people, under one government, and with one religion. And under the influence of this religion they came out from their deserts and conquered vast empires to the East and to the West, until it seemed as though the whole of the known world was to pass into their hands.

The man who brought about this change was named Mohammed. He belonged to a powerful tribe among the Arabs, but his father and mother had died before he was six years of age. He was then taken care of by his uncle, who was so poor that Mohammed was obliged to hire out as a shepherd boy, and do work that was usually done by slaves. When he was thirteen years old his uncle took him with a caravan to Damascus and other towns of Syria; and there the boy caught his first glimpses of the outside world. When he grew up he became manager for a wealthy widow who had many camels and sent out many caravans; and at last he won her love and respect, and she became his wife. When Mohammed established his new religion she became his first convert, and to the day of her death she was his most faithful friend and follower.

Mohammed had a dreamy and imaginative nature, and when he had become a man he thought much about religion. Every year he would go alone into the mountains near his home, and spend a month in fasting and prayer. At times he fell into a trance, and when he was restored he would tell of wonderful visions that his soul had seen while his body lay motionless on the earth.

When Mohammed was forty years old, a vision came to him of a mighty figure that called him by name and held an open book before him, saying, "Read!" Mohammed believed that this was the angel Gabriel, who came to him that he might establish a new religion, whose watchword should be:

"There is but one God, and Mohammed is his Prophet!"

When he began to preach the new faith, Mohammed found few converts at first. At the end of three years he had only forty followers. His teachings angered those who had charge of the idols of the old religions, and Mohammed was obliged at last to flee from the holy city of Mecca. This was in the year 622 A.D., and to this day the followers of Mohammed count time from this date, as we do from the birth of Christ.

MAP SHOWING MOHAMMEDAN CONQUESTS

After this Mohammed gained followers more rapidly, and he began to preach that the new religion must be spread by the sword. Warriors now came flocking into his camp from all directions. Within ten years after the flight from Mecca, all the tribes of Arabia had become his followers, and the idols had everywhere been broken to pieces. Then the Mohammedans turned to other nations, and everywhere they demanded that the people should believe in Mohammed, or pay tribute. If these demands were refused, they were put to death.

Mohammed could neither read nor write, but his sayings were written down by his companions. In this way a whole chestful of the sayings of the Prophet was preserved, written on scraps of paper, or parchment, on dried palm leaves, and even on the broad, flat shoulder-bones of sheep. After Mohammed's death these sayings were gathered together and formed into a book; in this way arose the "Koran," which is the bible of the Mohammedans.

Adam, Noah, Abraham, and Jesus were all recognized as prophets in the Koran; but Mohammed is regarded as the latest and greatest of all. The Koran teaches that those who believe in Mohammed, and live just lives, shall enter Paradise when they die. They will there dwell in beautiful gardens, where they shall never be burned by the rays of the sun, nor chilled by wintry winds; and there under flowering trees they shall recline forever, clad in silks and brocades, and fed by delicious fruits, which beautiful black-eyed maidens bring to them. To win Paradise the Mohammedan must follow certain rules. Five times a day he must pray with his face turned in the direction of the holy city Mecca; he must not gamble or drink wine; and during the holy month, when Mohammed fasted, he too must fast and pray. But the surest way to gain Paradise and all its joys, was to die in battle fighting for the Mohammedan faith. This teaching helps to explain why the Christians found the Mohammedans such fierce and reckless fighters.

Within a hundred years after the death of Mohammed, his followers had won an empire which stretched from the Indus River, in Asia, to the Red Sea, and from the Red Sea to the Atlantic Ocean. All of Southwestern Asia, and all of Northern Africa, were under their rule; and they were preparing to add Spain also, and perhaps all Europe, to the lands where the "call to prayer" was chanted.

In the year 711 A.D., a Mohammedan general named Tarik led the first army of Moors and Arabs across from Africa to Spain. Near where he landed was a huge mountain of rock, on which he built a fortress or castle; and from this name it is still called "Gible-Tarik," or Gibraltar, the mountain of Tarik.

Spain at this time was ruled by the West-Goths; but they were weakened by quarrels, and idleness, and were not able to resist the fierce Moors. Near a little river in Southern Spain the great battle was fought. For seven days the Christian Goths, under their King, Rodrigo, fought against the Mohammedan army; but still the battle was undecided. On the eighth day the Christians fled from the field, and Spain was left in the hands of the Mohammedans.

Long after that day an old Spanish poet sang of that battle in words like these:

"The hosts of Don Rodrigo were scattered in dismay,

When lost was the eight battle, nor heart nor hope had they;

He, when he saw that field was lost, and all his hope was flown,

He turned him from his flying host, and took his way alone.

"All stained and strewed with dust and blood, like to some smouldering brand

Plucked from the flame, Rodrigo showed; his sword was in his hand,

But it was hacked into a saw of dark and purple tint:

His jeweled mail had many a flaw, his helmet many a dint.

"He climbed into a hill-top, the highest he could see,

Thence all about of that wide rout his last long look took he;

He saw his royal banners, where they lay drenched and torn,

He heard the cry of victory, the Arab's shout of scorn.

"He looked for the brave captains that led the hosts of Spain,

But all were fled except the dead, and who could count the slain?

Where'er his eye could wander, all bloody was the plain,

And while thus he said, the tears he shed ran down his cheeks like rain:

" 'Last night I was the King of Spain—to-day no king am I;

Last night fair castles held my train—to-night where shall I lie?

Last night a hundred pages did serve me on the knee—

To-night not one I call my own—not one pertains to me.' "

This battle destroyed the power of the West-Goths. It also marks the beginning of the rule of the Moors in Spain, which was to last until the time of Queen Isabella and Columbus.

The ease with which the Moors conquered Spain made them think it would be an easy thing to conquer Gaul also. So within a few years we find their armies crossing the Pyrenees to carry war into that land. But here they met the Franks, and that people was not so easy to overcome as the Goths had been.

The Mayors of the Palace

You have already seen how Clovis built up a strong kingdom in Gaul and Germany; and then how the power slipped away from the hands of his descendants, until they became mere "do-nothing" kings. An old Frankish writer says: "The kings had only the name, and nothing save means for meat and drink. They dwelt in a country house all the year, until the middle of May. Then they came forth to greet the people and be greeted by them, and to receive their gifts. After that they returned to their dwelling, where they remained until the next year."

The real power was now in the hands of the great nobles who acted as the King's ministers. The chief of these was called the "Mayor of the Palace"; and at the time when the Moors came into Spain this office was handed down from father to son in a powerful family, which possessed rich estates in the Rhine valley, and could command a multitude of warlike followers.

Three years after the Moors had crossed over into Spain, the old Mayor of the Palace died, and the office passed to his son Charles. This was a serious time for the kingdom of the Franks. Civil wars now broke out anew among the nobles; the Saxons from Germany broke into the kingdom from the North; and the Moors were pressing up from Spain into the very heart of France. The young Mayor of the Palace, however, proved equal to the occasion. The civil wars were brought to an end, and all the Frankish lands were brought under his rule. The heathen Saxons were driven back to their own country. Then, gathering an army from the whole kingdom, Charles marched, in the year 732, into Southern France to meet the Moors.

CHARLES MARTEL DEFEATS THE MOORS.

He found their army near the city of Tours, laden with the booty which they had taken. The Moors expected another victory as great as the one which had given them Spain; but they found their match in Charles and his Franks. All day long the battle raged. Twenty times the light-armed Moors, on their fleet horses, dashed into the ranks of the heavy-armed Franks; but each time Charles and his men stood firm, like a wall, and the enemy had to retreat. At last the Moors gave up the attempt; and when day dawned next morning the Franks found that they had slipped off in the night, leaving behind them their tents and all their rich booty.

This battle forever put an end to the conquests of the Moors in France. It was this battle also, perhaps, that gave Charles his second name, "Martel," or "the Hammer"; for, as an old writer tells us, "like a hammer breaks and dashes to pieces iron and steel, so Charles broke and dashed to pieces his enemies."

At all events, the fame which Charles Martel won by his actions, and the ability which he showed as a ruler, enabled him to leave his power to his two sons when he died. Again there was a war between the Mayors of the Palace and the nobles who ruled over portions of the kingdom, but again the Mayors of the Palace won. Then, when quiet was restored once more, the elder of the two sons of Charles gave over his power to his brother Pepin, and entered a monastery, in order that he might spend the rest of his years in the holy life of a monk.

This left Pepin (who was called "Pepin the Short") as the sole Mayor of the Palace. There was still a Merovingian prince who sat on the throne, but he was a "do-nothing" king, as so many had been before him; and he only said the words that he was told, and did the things that were given him to do.

Of course this could not go on forever. Every one was getting tired of it; and at last Pepin felt that the time had come when he might safely take the title of king. First, messengers were sent to the Pope to ask his opinion. The Pope was now eager to get the aid of the Franks against the Lombards in Italy; so he answered in the way that he knew would please Pepin.

THE MEROVINGIAN KING DEPOSED.

"It is better," he said, "to give the title King to the person who actually has the power."

Then the weak Merovingian King was deposed. His long hair was cut, and he was forced to become a monk, and was shut out of sight in a monastery; and Pepin the Short was anointed with the sacred oil, and was crowned King in his place.

As long as Pepin lived, he ruled as a strong and just king. When he died, the crown went to his children, and after them to his children's children. In this way the crown of the Franks continued in the family of Pepin for more than two hundred years.

Charlemagne

Charles the Great, or Charlemagne, became King of the Franks when his father Pippin died. He was the greatest ruler of his time; and for hundreds of years after his death his influence continued to be felt in Western Europe. If Columbus had never been born, America would have been discovered just the same; and if Luther had never lived there would nevertheless have been a Reformation in the church. But if Charlemagne had never been King of the Franks, and made himself Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire,—as we shall see that he did,—the whole history of the Middle Ages would have been very different from what it actually was.

At first Charlemagne's brother ruled with him as King; but within three years the brother died, and then Charlemagne ruled as sole King of the Franks. He owed the power which he had largely to his father, and to his grandfather, Charles Martel; but Charlemagne used his power wisely and well, and greatly increased it. He put down the rebellions of the peoples who rose against the rule of the Franks; he defended the land against the Mohammedans of Spain and the heathen Germans of the North; he conquered new lands and new peoples. In addition he set up an improved system of government; and he did all that he could to encourage learning an make his people more civilized than they had been before.

When we read of all the things that Charlemagne did, we wonder that he was able to do so much. In the forty-six years that he was King he sent out more than fifty expeditions against different enemies; and in more than half of these he took the command himself. Charlemagne's wars, however, were not simply for plunder, or for more land, as so many of the earlier wars of the Franks had been. They were fought either to keep down the peoples whom the Franks had already conquered; or else to keep out new peoples who were seeking to conquer the Franks. In both these objects Charlemagne was successful. The net result of his wars was that almost all those lands which had formerly been under the Emperors of the West, were now brought under the rule of the King of the Franks; and the peoples who lived in these lands, both the old inhabitants and the German newcomers, were allowed peaceably to live together and work out their own destiny.

The most stubborn enemy that Charlemagne had to fight was the Saxons. A portion of this people had settled in the island of Britain about three hundred years before; but many Saxon tribes still dwelt in the northern part of Germany. In Charlemagne's time they still worshipped Woden and Thor, and lived in much the same way that the Germans had done before the great migrations. It was part of Charlemagne's plan to make himself ruler of all the German nations; besides, there were constant quarrels along the border between the Saxons and the Franks. The result was that war was declared, and Charlemagne started out to conquer, to Christianize, and to civilize these heathen kinsmen. But it was a hard task; and the war lasted many years before it was ended. Again and again the Franks would march into the Saxon lands in summer and conquer the Saxon villages; but as soon as they withdrew for the winter the young warriors of the Saxons would come out from the swamps and forests to which they had retreated, and next year the work would have to be done over again.

After this had occurred several times, Charlemagne determined to make a terrible example. Forty-five hundred of the Saxon warriors who had rebelled and been captured were put to death by his orders, all in one day. This dreadful massacre was the worst thing that Charlemagne ever did; and it did not even succeed in terrifying the Saxons. Instead, it led to the hardest and bloodiest war of all, in which a chief named Widukind led on his countrymen to take vengeance for their murdered relatives and friends.

In the end Charlemagne and his Franks proved too strong for the Saxons. Widukind, at last, was obliged to surrender and be baptized, with all his followers. After that the resistance of the Saxons died away; and Charlemagne's treatment of the land was so wise that it became one of the strongest and most important parts of the kingdom.

Charlemagne also fought a number of times against the Arabs in Spain. He not only prevented them from settling in Southern France, as they had tried to do in the time of Charles Martel; but he won from them a strip of their own country south of the Pyrenees Mountains. In one of these wars, the rearguard of Charlemagne's army was cut off and slain by the mountain tribes in the narrow pass of Roncevalles. The leader of the Franks was Roland, while the leader of the enemy was called Bernardo.

Long after that day strange stories grew up and poets sang of the brave deeds of Roland, and of the mighty blasts which he gave on his hunting-horn, to warn Charlemagne of the danger to his army. Three blasts he blew, each so loud and terrible that the birds fell dead from the trees, and the enemy drew back in alarm. Charlemagne, many miles away, heard the call, and hastened to the rescue; but he came too late. An old song says:

"The day of Roncevalles was a dismal day for you,

Ye men of France, for there the lance of King Charles was broke in two;

Ye well may curse that rueful field, for many a noble peer

In fray or fight the dust did bite beneath Bernardo's spear."

In most of his wars Charlemagne was successful; and the stories about him told rather of his glory and his might than of his defeats.

One of his most important conquests was that of the Lombards, in Northern Italy. Nearly a century afterward, an old monk wrote the story of this war as he had heard it from his father. Desiderius, the King of the Lombards, had offended the Pope, and the Pope appealed to Charlemagne for aid. When Charlemagne marched his army over the Alps into Italy, the Lombard King shut himself up in his capital, Pavia. There he had with him, according to the story, one of Charlemagne's nobles named Otker, who had offended the dread King and fled from him.

"Now when they heard of the approach of the terrible Charles," writes this old monk, "they climbed up into a high tower, whence they could see in all directions. When the advance guard appeared, Desiderius said to Otker: 'Is Charles with this great army, do you think?' And he answered: 'Not yet.' When he saw the main army, gathered from the whole broad empire, Desiderius said with confidence: 'Surely the victorious Charles is with these troops.' But Otker answered: 'Not yet, not yet.'

"Then Desiderius began to be troubled, and said: 'What shall we do if still more come with him?' Otker answered: 'You will soon see how he will come; but what will become of us, I know not.' And, behold, while they were speaking, appeared the servants of Charles's household, a never-resting multitude. 'That is Charles,' said the terrified Desiderius. But Otker said: 'Not yet, not yet.' Then appeared the bishops and the abbots, and the chaplains with their companions. When he beheld these the Lombard prince, dazed with fear and longing for death, stammered out these words: 'Let us go down and hide in the earth before the wrath of so terrible an enemy!' But Otker, who in better times had known well the power and the arms of the great Charles, answered: 'When you see a harvest of steel waving in the fields, and the rivers dashing steel-black waves against the city walls, then you may believe Charles is coming.'

ROYAL PALACE OF CHARLEMAGNE'S TIME.

"Scarcely had he spoken when there appeared in the North and West a dark cloud, as it were, which wrapped the clear day in most dreadful shadow. But as it drew nearer, there flashed upon the besieged from the gleaming weapons a day that was more terrible for them than any night. Then they saw him,—Charles,—the man of steel; his arms covered with plates of steel, his iron breast and his broad shoulders protected by steel armor. His left hand carried aloft the iron lance, for his right was always ready for the victorious sword. His thighs, which others leave uncovered in order more easily to mount their horses, were covered on the outside with iron scales. The leg-pieces of steel were common to the whole army. His shield was all of steel, and his horse was iron in color and in spirit.

"This armor all who rode before him, by his side, or who followed him,—in fact, the whole army,—had tried to imitate as closely as possible. Steel filled the fields and roads. The rays of the sun were reflected from gleaming steel. The people, paralyzed by fear, did homage to the bristling steel; the fear of the steel pierced down deep into the earth. 'Alas, the steel!' 'Alas, the steel!' cried the inhabitants confusedly. The mighty walls trembled before the steel, and the courage of youths fled before the steel of the aged.

"And all this, which I have told with all too many words, the truthful seer Otker saw with one swift look, and said to Desiderius: 'There you have Charles, whom you have so long desired!' And with these words he fell to the ground like one dead."

In this war Charlemagne was completely victorious. Desiderius ceased to be King of the Lombards, and Charlemagne became King in his place. For centuries after that Charlemagne's successors continued to wear "the iron crown of Italy," which the great King of the Franks had won from Desiderius.

One of the results of the conquest of the Lombards was that Charlemagne was brought into closer relations with the Pope. The Emperor of the East still claimed to rule over Italy; but his rule was feeble, and only a small part of the peninsula was now in the hands of his officers. The real power in Italy had passed into the hands of the King of the Franks; and the question now was, whether the Pope should be under his rule as he had been under that of the Eastern Emperors.

Two things made this question harder to decide. One was that Charlemagne, following the example of his father Pippin, had given to the Pope a large number of the cities and villages which he had conquered in Italy. The other was that the Pope, on Christmas day of the year 800, placed a crown on Charlemagne's head as he knelt in prayer in St. Peter's church at Rome, and proclaimed him Emperor.

Charlemagne had gone to Rome to aid the Pope against rebellious Romans, and remained for the celebration of Christmas. On that day, as Charlemagne's secretary tells us, "the King went to mass at St. Peter's, and as he knelt in prayer before the alter, the Pope set a crown upon his head. Then the Roman people cried aloud: 'Long life and victory to the mighty Charles, the great and peaceful Emperor of the Romans, who is crowned of God!'" He adds that later Charlemagne declared "that he would not have set foot in the church that day, although it was a great feast-day, if he could have foreseen the design of the Pope." Nevertheless, Charlemagne accepted the new title, and prized it higher than his old title of King.

When Charlemagne gave those cities and villages to the Pope, did it mean that he gave up the right to rule there, and turned the power over to the Pope, so that the latter became the Prince in these places? And when the Pope crowned Charlemagne as Emperor, did that mean that the Pope could set up and pull down emperors whenever he pleased?

These are very hard questions to answer; but they are very important questions to understand. Upon the answers given to them would depend the decision whether the Pope was above the Emperor, or the Emperor above the Pope; and this was a question about which men fought for hundreds of years.

We may also ask, What was this Empire of which Charlemagne became Emperor on that Christmas morning?

The name which men give to it is "the Holy Roman Empire of the German Nation." They thought of it as a revival of the old Roman Empire of the East, which had come to an end more than three hundred years before. They called it the Holy  Roman Empire, to show how great a part the Church, and especially the Pope, played in it; and they added the words, of the German Nation, because it was the new and vigorous peoples who had come from the North who now supplied its strength. Though Charlemagne as Emperor ruled only over the peoples who had obeyed him as King, still men felt that his position now was higher, and his authority greater, than it had been before. For now his power was linked with the majestic history of Rome, and was given a more solemn sanction by the Church.

In this way the crowning of Charlemagne as Emperor was an event of very great importance. For a thousand years after that day, the office of Emperor in the West continued to exist; and for a good part of this time it was one of the most powerful means of holding peoples of Western Europe together in one family of nations, and preventing them from growing wholly unlike and hostile to one another. We may truly say that a new age commences in Europe, when force alone no longer rules, and when great ideas, such as the idea of the Church and of the Empire, begin to play a part amid the strife of nations.

CHARLEMAGNE

Descendants of Charlemagne

Upon the death of Charlemagne, his Empire passed to his son Louis. This ruler is sometimes called "Louis the Pious," because he was so friendly to the Church; and sometimes "Louis the Good-natured," because he was so easy-going and allowed himself to be guided by his wife and his favorites. Under his weak rule the Empire lost much of the strength that it had possessed under Charlemagne.

After Louis's death, it was still further weakened. His sons had begun fighting for the kingdom even while their father lived. After his death they fought a great battle in which troops of all the Frankish lands took part. The old writers describe this as a terrible struggle,—more terrible than any since Attila and his Huns were driven back by the Romans and the Goths, or the Moors were defeated by Charles Martel. Those battles had been fought by the Christians against peoples who were not Christians; but now Christians fought against Christians, Franks against Franks.

"May the day of that battle be accursed!" wrote a writer who himself took part in the struggle. "May it never more be counted among the days of the year, but be wiped out from all remembrance! May it lack the light of the sun, and have neither dawning nor twilight! May that night also be accursed; that terrible night in which so many brave and skillful warriors met their deaths! Never was there a worse slaughter! Men fell in lakes of blood; and the garments of the dead whitened the whole field."

LOTHAIR

As a result of this battle, the three sons of Louis agreed to divide the kingdom among them. (1) Charles, the youngest son, got the western part, and this in course of time grew into the kingdom of France. (2) Ludwig, the second son, got the land lying east and north of the Rhine River and Alps Mountains; and this region in time became the kingdom of Germany. (3) Lothair, the eldest son, got Italy, and a long narrow strip which lay between Charles's portion on the West and Ludwig's portion on the East; and with it he received the title of Emperor. This "middle strip" was long and awkwardly shaped, and there was so little to bind the people together that it never grew into a permanent kingdom. Before many years had gone by, it passed into the hands of the rulers of France and Germany, and the only thing that remained to show its former rule was the name "Lotharingia" or "Lorraine," which is still given to the northern part of it.

This division of the kingdom tended, of course, to make the Frankish power weaker. Other things, too, contributed to this end. The Carolingian princes (as the descendants of Charles are called) were not nearly as strong rulers as their great forefather had been, and besides they continued the practice of dividing the kingdoms among all the sons whenever a king died. So the kingdoms grew ever smaller and weaker.

New enemies, moreover, had now arisen to trouble the land, and make the task of governing it more difficult. The Moors of Spain and Africa were going far into the heart of France and Italy in their search for plunder and slaves. On the North and West fleets of Viking ships, laden with fierce Northmen from Denmark and Norway, were landing upon the coast, or ascending in their light vessels far up the rivers, plundering, killing, and burning. And from the East the Hungarians—a new race, of close kin to the old Huns—were now advancing year after year up the Danube valley, into Germany, into Italy, into France, carrying everywhere terror and dismay.

CHARLES, THE YOUNGEST SON OF LOUIS THE PIOUS.

Since the kings of this period were too weak to protect the land against attack, the people were obliged to look after their own defence. The result was that rich and powerful landowners began to build great gloomy towers and castles as a protection against these raids. In course of time every lofty hill-top, every cliff, every island in the great rivers, came to have a castle, where the lord and his followers might find protection against their enemies. There was now no power in the state either to protect or to punish its subjects; so these lords not only used their castles as a defence against the Hungarians and other enemies, but often themselves oppressed their neighbors. From their strongholds they would sally forth to misuse the peasants of the country around, or to plunder merchants travelling from town to town.

Everything was fallen into confusion; and it seemed as if the time told of in the Bible, when "every man did that which seemed good in his own eyes," had again come upon earth.

Rise of Feudalism

There seemed to be only one remedy against these evils for the ordinary freeman. This was to give up his independence, and get the lord of some castle to agree to protect him against all other enemies. That, in fact, is just what we find going on in this period. Men everywhere were giving up their independence, and becoming the dependents  of some great man who took them under his protection.

When a freeman wished to "commend himself," as it was called, to the protection of a lord, he went down on his knees before him, put his hands between the hands of the lord, and swore to be "his man"—that is, to serve him. Then the lord raised his "vassal," as the man was thenceforth called, and gave him the kiss of peace. This was called "doing homage" to the lord. Next the vassal swore to be faithful to his lord in all things; this was the "oath of fealty."

A VASSAL DOING HOMAGE TO HIS LORD.

If the man had land in his own right, he usually gave it up to the lord, and the lord then gave him back the use  of it. If he had no land before, the lord granted him the use of some of his own land; and a lance, or a twig, was given him at the time he did homage, in sign of this. Thenceforth the lord was the real owner of the land, but the vassal had the use of it till his death. When he died, his son would do homage and swear fealty to the lord, and then he would be given the land his father held. Such a piece of land was called a "benefice" or a "fief," and the name which is given to the whole system was "feudalism," or the "feudal system."

As a result of this system the ordinary freemen gained the protection which they so much needed and the state could no longer furnish. Thenceforth they had a place of refuge, in the lord's castle, to which they could flee when robber bands appeared; and they also had a powerful protector to defend them against the attacks of other lords.

"But," you may ask, "what good was all this to the lord of the castle? Why was he willing to admit these men to become his vassals, and even grant them parts of his own lands as benefices?" That is a question which is easily answered. The lord needed men  to help him guard his castle, and fight his battles; and that was what the vassals supplied. Every year they might be called upon to serve their lord as armored knights for forty days in the field, besides rendering him other services. In this way the lord obtained military followers, who were closely bound to him by ties of homage and fealty; and the more vassals he had, the more powerful he became.

The lords themselves in turn often became the vassals of some greater lord above them, and bound themselves to bring all of their  followers to serve him, when called upon to do so. In the completed system, the king of the land stood at the head; then under him were his  vassals, and under them were their  vassals,—and so on until we come down to the peasants. They were not looked upon as worthy to be the vassals  of anybody; they were called "serfs" or "villains," and had to till the soil, and raise the food which supported all the classes above them.

LORD AND DEPENDENTS FEASTING

From what you have been told you might think that feudalism was an organization only for fighting; but it was something more than this. It came to be an organization for governing the land as well. The power of the kings became so weak that the feudal nobles were able finally to take into their own hands most things that the head of the state ought to have done. In this way it came about that the feudal lords had the right to make war, coin money, make laws, and hold courts in their fiefs. Sometimes they had their own gallows on which to hang offenders. The power that ought to have been in the hands of the head of the state was thus split up into many bits, and each of these great lords had part of it.

The growth of the feudal system was going on everywhere in Western Europe from about the eighth to the eleventh centuries. It grew slowly, but it grew surely; for in the weakened condition of the state it was the form of organization that best met the needs of the people. So everywhere,—in Spain, in France, in England, in Germany, and in Italy—we find the feudal castles arising; and men everywhere gave up their free land, received it back as fiefs, and became the vassals of lords above them.

The existence of feudalism is one of the most important facts about the Middle Ages. It is this which makes the government of that period so different from the governments of Greece and Rome, and also from the governments of to-day. Feudalism, moreover, led to other important changes. In the Church it made the abbots and bishops the vassals of the kings and nobles for the land which the Church held; and since vassals owed military service, the bishops and abbots often became more like feudal warriors than mild and holy servants of Christ. Because the chief business of vassals and lords was fighting, much attention was paid to arms and armor, and to training for war. In this way arose the wonderful coats of mail and suits of armor of the Middle Ages; in this way also arose the long training which one had to go through to become a knight, and the exciting "tournaments" in which the knights tried their skill against one another.

In another chapter is an account of The Life of the Castle; we tell you of these things here only that you may see how truly we may say of this period, that it was indeed the Feudal Age, as it is sometimes called. Especially is this true of the eleventh, twelfth, and thirteenth centuries. It is in those centuries preeminently that we find feudalism grown into a complete system, and ruling the whole life of the lands which the German conquerors had won from the Roman Empire.

Deeds of the Northmen

One of the things which helped the growth of feudalism was the coming of the Northmen into Southern Europe.

The Northmen were a sturdy people who dwelt about the Baltic Sea, in the lands which their descendants—the Danes, Norwegians, and Swedes—still occupy. There they had dwelt as long as we have any record of them. While the other Germans were seeking new homes in the fifth and sixth centuries, the Northmen had remained quietly at home worshiping the old gods, and gaining a scanty living from their herds and fields, and from the sea. They were so far away from Rome that only faint reports reached them of the stirring events that were taking place in the Roman lands. For four hundred years after the Goths had crossed the frontier, the Northmen remained quiet. But at last Charlemagne's conquest of the Saxons brought Christianity and the Frankish rule close to their doors. Traders and missionaries now began to come among them; from them they learned of the rich and beautiful lands which lay to the South, and their minds were dazzled by the thought of the easy victories which were to be won there.

A VIKING SHIP.

When finally the Northmen came into the southern lands, they came, not by land, as the earlier invaders had done, but by sea. The rocky islands, the bold cliffs, and the narrow valleys of the Scandinavian lands did not tempt men to agriculture. On the other hand, the sea invited them to voyage forth and seek adventures on its waters. The Northmen, therefore, had become bold sailors; and in their long, many-oared ships, they now dared the storms of heaven and the wrath of man, to sail wherever there was booty to be had or glory to be gained. They called themselves "Viking," which means "men from the viks," or creeks of Scandinavia. Even in Charlemagne's time the Northmen had begun to trouble the southern lands.

"One day, while Charlemagne tarried in a city of Southern Gaul," says an old writer, "a few Scandinavian boats came to plunder even within the harbor of the city. Some thought at first that they were Jewish merchants; others believed that they were from Northern Africa, or were traders from Brittany. But Charlemagne recognized them by the fleetness of their ships.

'These are not merchants,' he said, 'but cruel enemies.'

When the ships were pursued, they quickly disappeared. Then the Emperor, rising from the table where he sat, went to the window which looked towards the East, and remained there a long time, his eyes filled with tears. No one ventured to question him; but at last he said:

'Do you know, my faithful friends, why I weep so bitterly? It is not because I fear that these men should annoy me by their wretched acts of piracy. But I am deeply afflicted because during my lifetime they have come so near these shores; and I am tormented by a great grief when I think of the woes they will inflict upon my successors and the whole nation.'"

Before Charlemagne was dead, indeed, these hardy wanderers began to fulfill his prophecy; and after he was gone the evil increased rapidly. Now the Viking ships came by scores and hundreds, where before they had come singly and in dozens. The whole of Christendom suffered from them. They plundered the shores alike of Germany, France, England, Scotland, Ireland, Spain and Italy. With their light vessels they would enter the river mouths, and row as far into the heart of the country as they could. Then they would seize horses, and on these ride far and wide. They loved most of all to attack the churches and monasteries. They cared nothing for the Christian God, for they were still heathen; and in the churches were rich gold and silver vessels, and fine embroidered cloths. It was easier, also, to capture a church or a monastery than it was a castle, for the priests and monks were not fighting men. And if any resisted these fierce heathen, they were pierced with arrows, or cloven with their swords.

One of the most famous Vikings was named Hastings. Some say that he was not a Northman at all, but a French peasant, who had joined the sea-rovers. At all events, he was very strong, brave, and cunning, and became one of their most famous leaders. We first meet with him while Louis the Pious was King; for nearly fifty years after this he was busy plundering towns and wasting the country in different lands. Now we find him in France; now he is in Frisia, just north of France; now he is in England; now he is on the shores of Spain.

On one voyage Hastings sailed around the Spanish peninsula and entered the Mediterranean Sea. There he plundered Southern France, Africa, and Italy. He wished especially to plunder Rome, as Alaric and the Vandal king had done before him. But he knew more about fighting than he did about geography. On the coast of Italy, north of Rome, lay a little city called Luna, and Hastings mistook its marble palaces and churches for the buildings of Rome. Even the walls of Luna, however, were too strong to be taken by force; so he was obliged to use a trick. He sent a messenger into the city saying that he had not come to make war, but was dying and wished to be baptized a Christian. The bishop and rulers of the city were pleased at this, and Hastings was baptized as he wished. Then the next day word was brought from the ships that their leader was dead, and they wished him to be buried in the church of the city. There seemed no harm in this request, so the rulers gave their consent. Hastings, with his weapons lying by his side, was brought within the walls, and with him came some of his best warriors, as mourners. While the people of the city went with the funeral party to the church, the rest of the Northmen landed from their ships and slipped through the unguarded gate. Then Hastings suddenly seized his weapons and sprang from the couch where he lay; at once his followers fell upon the people, and in this way the town was soon won.

At first the Northmen came only during the summer season, sailing home when the winter storms were due. Before long, however, they began to spend the winter also in Christian lands. They would seize upon an island lying off the coast at a river's mouth; and from this as headquarters they would go forth at all times of the year to ravage the land. For many years this prayer was regularly used in the churches: "From the fury of the Northmen, good Lord, deliver us."

COUNT ODO BRINGING AID TO PARIS.

The struggle lasted for a long time. In France, within fifty years after Charlemagne's death, Paris had fallen three times. At first the weak kings tried to buy off the Northmen with gifts of money. But such gifts only made them greedy for more; and payment had to be made again and again. Then the nobles and the cities took the defence into their own hands. In addition to the castles which the nobles were building, the cities began to fortify bridges over the rivers, so that they could keep the pirate ships from ascending the streams.

The most famous struggle of all came at Paris in the year 886. This city was not yet the capital of France, but its situation already made it important. It was built on a low island in the Seine, with a fortified bridge connecting it with each bank. When the Northmen came up the river in that year, the governor of the city, Count Odo, and the bishop, encouraged the people to resist. The viking ships numbered seven hundred, and they carried an army of 40,000 men; but for eleven months the city held out, and in spite of the weakness and cowardice of the King, the Northmen at last were obliged to withdraw.

The family of this Count Odo had already won great honor in warring against the Northmen. His father, Robert the Strong, had fallen, after many victories, fighting against the pirate Hastings. The brave defence of Paris now made Odo more powerful than ever, and men began to think how much worthier he was of the crown than the weak Carolingians. So the cowardly King who was then ruling was set aside, and Count Odo was chosen King in his place.

After Odo's death the Carolignians regained the throne, but their hold upon it was weaker than ever. For about a hundred years the family of Odo continued to be the rivals of the Carolingians. Then in 987, another descendant of Robert the Strong seized the throne, and this time the change of rulers was permanent. From that date, for more than eight hundred years, all of the kings of France were descendants of this great family; and their rule did not cease until the kingship came to an end in France, and a republic was set up in its place (1792).

Twenty-five years after the great siege of Paris, a band of Northmen secured such a footing in France that it was never possible afterwards to drive them forth. Their leader was a man of enormous size, strength, and courage; his name was Rolf (or Rollo), and they called him "the Ganger," which meant "the Walker." Like Hastings, he was for nearly fifty years a sea-king, plundering Frisia, England, Scotland, and France. At the great siege of Paris, he was one of the chiefs. Unlike Hastings, however, Rolf was something more than a mere pirate and robber. When he captured a town, he strengthened its walls, and rebuilt its churches, and sought to rule over it as a conquering prince.

In this way he came to possess a number of towns which lay north and south of the mouth of the river Seine. At last, in the year 911, he secured a grant from the King of France to a wide stretch of country in that region, with the title of Duke. This grant was made on three conditions. First, he must settle his Northmen there and leave the rest of the country at peace; second, he must become a Christian; and third, he must do homage to the French King as his feudal lord. This last condition was very distasteful to Duke Rolf, and he could scarcely be induced to place his hands between the hands of the King, as was required. When he was told to kneel down and kiss the foot of the King, as was the custom, he refused, and calling one of his followers, commanded him to do it. This bold Northman, however, had no more liking for the deed than his chief; and when he raised the King's foot to touch it to his lips, he toppled the King over on his back!

In Normandy,—as his land was called,—Duke Rolf speedily showed that he was as good a ruler as he was a fighter. His followers settled down quietly, under his stern rule, and became landlords and cultivators of the soil. Before he died, it is said that gold rings could be hung on the limbs of the trees, and no one would touch them. The Northmen learned rapidly in other ways too. They followed the lead of their Duke in being baptized, and soon all were Christians. They also laid aside their old speech and law, and in less than a hundred years the fierce sea-rovers had become as good Frenchmen, in speech and everything else, as could be found in the kingdom. About the only thing to mark the difference between these Normans, as they were called, and the rest of the French, was their greater energy, their skill in governing, and their fondness for the sea and adventure.

Proof that they had not lost their energy or military skill was given in events which took place in the eleventh century. Within a little more than a hundred years after Duke Rolf and his followers were established in France, their descendants began to send forth new bands of conquerors. By accident their attention was turned to Sicily and the southern part of Italy. Soon the greater part of these lands was conquered from the Greeks and Saracens, and a Norman kingdom was established there called the kingdom of the Two Sicilies.

This is not nearly all of the great deeds the Northmen and their descendants performed at this time; but we can only mention a few of the others. As every American boy and girl knows, the Northmen settled Iceland and Greenland, and discovered America long before Columbus was born. Twice bands of them attacked the city of Constantinople; and after that they entered the service of the Greek Emperor, and for centuries made up his faithful bodyguard. In the far North, they made settlements in Russia, and gave a line of rulers to the Great Russian Empire. And when the Crusaders set out to win Jerusalem from the infidels, the Normans of France, England, and Sicily took the leading part in these movements also.

These old Northmen were truly a wonderful people, and their coming into the Christian lands did much to make the southern nations stronger and more energetic than they would otherwise have been.

England in the Middle Ages

The British Isles were among the lands which suffered most from the raids of the viking Northmen, and it was there also that the Normans of France made their greatest conquest.

In the days when Rome was spreading her rule about the Mediterranean Sea, the larger of these islands was called Britain, from its inhabitants, the Britons, who were akin to the Gauls of the Continent. Some time after the Romans had conquered Gaul, Britain also was added to their Empire and was ruled by the Romans for about three hundred and fifty years. But when the Empire had grown weak and the German barbarians began to over-run Italy, Rome was obliged to withdraw her legions from Britain, and that island was then left to govern and defend itself.

The Britons, however, had lived so long under Roman rule that, by this time, they had almost forgotten how to fight. So, when wild tribes from Ireland and Scotland came to attack them, the Britons were in an evil situation. At one time they wrote a letter to the Roman commander in Gaul, in which they said:

"The barbarians drive us to the sea; the sea throws us back on the barbarians. Thus two modes of death await us: we are either slain, or drowned."

AN EARLY ENGLISH CHURCH

Also, roving bands of Germans, called Angles and Saxons, now began to trouble the shores of Britain, coming in their swift pirate ships much as the Northmen were to do four hundred years later. When the Britons found that the Romans were not able to help them, they asked a band of these sea-rovers to aid them against their other enemies, promising them rich rewards (449 A.D.). When once the Angles and Saxons had secured a footing, they proceeded to conquer the island for themselves. In this way the Angles and Saxons won for themselves the fairest portion of the land. From the name of the first of these peoples, it came to be called "Angle-land" or England. It was only after two centuries of hard fighting, however, that the conquest was completed. In the western part of the island the Britons long kept their independence; and there, under the name of "Welsh," as they were styled by the new-comers (a word which meant foreigners), they continued for hundreds of years to use their own language, to follow their own laws, and to obey their own princes.

Meanwhile the "English," as the descendants of the Angles and Saxons are called, settled down into a num¬ber of little kingdoms. You have already read how captive boys from one of these kingdoms excited the pity of Pope Gregory when he saw them exposed for sale in the slave market at Rome, and how this led him to send the monk Au¬gustine to England, to convert these new-comers. The English became Christians and grew more civilized, and finally their little kingdoms were joined together under the rule of a single king.

But now they, in turn, were exposed to the danger of conquest; for like the Britons before them the English had, through long years of peace, lost much of their former warlike ability. The new enemy was the Northmen, whose deeds we have described in the preceding chapter. Little by little they overran the island, plundering and destroying monasteries and churches, until only the south-western part of the island was still unconquered. But there they were met by a young English King who stopped their conquests and saved his people from ruin at their hands.

This was the English national hero. Alfred, whom later ages called "Alfred the Truth-Teller" and "England's Darling." When he was a boy his mother one day said to him and his brothers:

"Do you see this little book, with its clear black writing, and the beautiful letter at the beginning, painted in red, blue, and gold? It shall belong to the one who first learns its songs."

Books were precious things in those days, for printing was not yet invented and they must be made slowly and painfully by writing the letters with a pen. So Alfred exclaimed eagerly:

"Mother, will you really give that beautiful book to me if I learn it first?"

"Yes," she replied, "I really will."

So Alfred set to work, with the aid of his teacher; and long before his brothers had mastered it, he learned to repeat the verses. He thus not only earned the prize, but in doing it he showed the love of learning and quickness of mind which made him noted in after years.

The first seven years of Alfred's rule as King were taken up with fighting the Northmen. At one time he was obliged to take refuge on a small island amid swamps, where he found shelter in a herdsman's hut, and was scolded by the herdsman's wife (who did not know who he was) for letting some coarse cakes burn which she was baking before the fire. An old song represents the woman as saying:

Can't you mind the cakes, man?

And don't you see them burnt?

I'm bound you'll eat them fast enough,

As soon as 'tis the turn.

In the end Alfred defeated the Northmen in a great battle, and forced their king to make peace. The remainder of his reign was given up to improving education and bettering the condition of his people. He was "the wisest, best, and greatest King that ever reigned in England," and the good effects of his rule lasted long after he was gone.

HOUSE OF AN ENGLISH NOBLEMAN

But, after a time, the rule came again into the hands of weak kings, and again Northmen overran the land.

Canute, King of Denmark and Norway, conquered England, and was recognized as King by all that land. Fortunately the Northmen were now Christians and more civilized than they had been in Alfred's day; and Canute ruled England as a strong and able King for nearly twenty years.

After Canute's death there was again trouble for a number of years. First his unworthy sons ruled after him; and when their short reigns were at an end, a well meaning but weak King of the old English line, named Edward, was placed on the throne. His mother was a Norman, and he himself had spent a part of his youth in Normandy, where the descendants of the Northmen were now the most energetic and enlightened people of France. King Edward was so fond of the Normans that he invited many of them to come over into his kingdom, where he showed them such favor that it aroused the jealousy of the English and led to many conflicts. When Edward died, in the year 1066, without leaving a son to succeed him, the English chose as King a nobleman named Harold, who had taken a chief part in resisting those Norman favorites.

WILLIAM OF NORMANDY LANDING IN ENGLAND.

The Duke of Normandy at this time was a strong ruler named William, who had already done great things and was looking about for an opportunity to do greater ones. He claimed that King Edward had promised him the throne when, at one time, he had visited him in England; and also that Harold, who had taken Edward's place, had sworn never to become king. So, with a great army of Normans and Frenchmen, and with a banner blessed by the Pope, William landed on the shores of England to claim the throne.

At a hill called Senlac, not far from the town of Hastings, the Normans found King Harold and his Englishmen awaiting them. For a time it looked as though the Normans would be defeated, for the English ranks held firm and could not be broken. Three horses were killed under William, but he escaped without injury. At one time the cry was raised, "The Duke is down!" and the Normans began to give way. But William tore off his helmet that they might better see his face, and cried:

"I live, and by God's help shall have the victory!"

After a time William ordered his men to pretend to flee, in order to draw the English from their strong position. This move succeeded in part, but still the battle went on. William next ordered that a volley of arrows be shot high in the air, and one of these in falling struck Harold in the eye and slew him. Then the Normans easily won the battle.

After this William got possession of all England, and was accepted by the people as their King. He is known in history as William the Conqueror. He was a strong and able ruler, and he and his descendants knew how to keep what their energy and valor had won. From that day to this, every king or queen who has ruled over England has been a descendant of this Norman Duke. His Conquest was the greatest feat which the Normans accomplished, and it is one of the most important events in the history of the Middle Ages.

The First Crusade

The period of the Crusades lasts from the year 1095 to the year 1270. In the great movement included between these dates we find, for the first time, practically the whole of Europe acting together for one end. And it was not only the rulers who were concerned; priests and kings, nobles, townsmen and peasants, alike took arms against the infidel. The story of the Crusades, therefore, is one of the most important and interesting parts of medieval history. Nothing can better show what the Middle Ages were like; and nothing helped more than they did to bring the Middle Ages to their end.

The object of this movement was to bring Palestine, where Christ had lived and died, again under the rule of Christians. Until the Arabs began their conquests in the seventh century, the land had been ruled by the Eastern Emperors. Even after the religion of Mohammed was established side by side with that of Christ, the Christians did not at first feel so badly about it. They were too busy at home, fighting Northmen and Hungarians, and settling the institutions under which they were to live, to give much attention to things so far way. Besides, the Arabs respected the holy places of the Christians, and allowed pilgrims to Jerusalem to come and go without harm or hindrance.

MAP OF THE CRUSADES

But about thirty years before William the Norman conquered England, a new race appeared in the East. The Turks, who were a rude fierce people from Central Asia, of close kin to the old Huns, conquered the Arabs; and the treatment of the Christian was thenceforth very different. The Turks also were Mohammedans, but they did not have the same respect for the religion of the Jews and Christians that the Arabs did. Besides, they were fiercer and more bloodthirsty, and in a short time they won from the Eastern Empire lands which the Arabs had never been able to conquer. Even Constantinople was not safe from them.

"From Jerusalem to the Aegean Sea," wrote the Emperor of the East to a Western ruler, "the Turkish hordes have mastered all. Their galleys sweep the Black Sea and the Mediterranean, and threaten the imperial city itself."

In the West, too, quieter times had now come; and rulers and people could turn their attention abroad. Finally, there was now more enthusiasm for religion among all classes; so when pilgrims returned from Jerusalem, telling of outrages committed against Christian persons and against Christian holy places, it was felt to be a shame that this thing should be.

When, therefore, the Emperor of the East wrote to the Pope asking for aid against the Turks, the people of the West were in a mood to grant it. At a great Council held at Clermont, in France, in the year 1095, Pope Urban II. laid the matter before the clergy and princes. Most of those present were French; and Urban, who was himself a Frenchman, spoke to them in their own tongue. He told them of the danger to Constantinople and of the sad state of Jerusalem, while the western peoples were quarreling and fighting among themselves. In all that region, he said, Christians had been led off into slavery, their homes laid waste, and their churches overthrown. Then he appealed to his hearers to remember Charlemagne and the victories which he was believed to have won over the Arabs, and urged them to begin anew the war with the Mohammedans.

"Christ himself," he cried, "will be your leader when you fight for Jerusalem! Let your quarrels cease, and turn your arms against the accursed Turks. In this way you will return home victorious and laden with the wealth of your foes; or, if you fall in battle, you will receive an everlasting reward!"

With one accord his hearers cried; "It is the will of God! It is the will of God!"

A PILGRIM

From all sides they hastened to give in their names for the holy war. Each person promising to go was given a cross of red cloth, which he was to wear upon his breast going to the Holy Land, and on his back returning. To those who "took the cross," the name "Crusaders" was given, from the Latin word which means cross.

The winter following the Council was spent in getting ready. All classes showed the greatest zeal. Preachers went about among the people calling upon rich and poor, noble and peasant alike, to help free the Holy Land; and whole villages, towns, and cities were emptied of their inhabitants to join the Crusade. Many sold all they had to get the means to go; and thieves, robbers, and wicked men of all kinds promised to leave their wickedness and aid in rescuing the tomb of Christ Jesus from the infidels.

The time set for the starting of the Crusade was the early summer of the year 1096. But the common people could not wait so long.

Under a monk named Peter the Hermit, and a poor knight called Walter the Penniless, great companies from Germany and France set out before that time. They had almost no money; they were unorganized; and there was no discipline or obedience in the multitude. The route which they took was down the river Danube, through the kingdoms of the Hungarians and Bulgarians, and so to Constantinople. Few of the people or their leaders had any idea of the distance, and as each new city came in sight many cried out: "Is this Constantinople?"

A CRUSADER

In Hungary and Bulgaria the people attacked them because they were forced to plunder the country as they passed through, and many were slain. When they reached Constantinople, some of the unruly company set fire to buildings near the city, while others stripped off sheets of lead from the roofs of churches to sell them to Greek merchants. The Emperor hastened to get rid of his unwelcome guests by sending them across into Asia Minor. There within a few months Walter and most of his followers were slain by the Turks; and the expedition came to a sorrowful end.

Meanwhile the princes from France, Germany, and Italy were making ready their expeditions. While the Norman chiefs of Southern Italy were engaged in one of their many wars, a messenger came to them with the news that countless warriors of France had started on the way to Jerusalem, and invited them to join the expedition.

CRUSADERS ON THE MARCH

"What are their weapons, what their badge, what their war-cry?" asked one of the Normans.

"Our weapons," replied the messenger, "are those best suited to war; our badge, the cross of Christ; our war-cry, 'It is the will of God! It is the will of God!'"

When he heard these words, the Norman tore from his shoulders his costly cloak, and with his own hands he made crosses from it for all who would follow him to the Holy Land. There he became one of the most famous and renowned of the Crusaders; and his followers showed that they could be as brave, as enterprising, and as skillful in fighting for the Holy Land, as they had been before in fighting for lands and goods in France, in England, and in Italy.

The Crusaders set out at last in five different companies. The first started in August, 1096; the last did not join the others, near Constantinople, until the next summer. The companies were made up of trained and armed knights, with chosen leaders, who had made many preparations for the expedition. They did not suffer so severely, therefore, as did the poor, ignorant people under Walter the Penniless. Still they encountered many hardships. It was already winter when the men of South France toiled over the mountains near Constantinople.

"For three weeks," writes one of their number, "we saw neither bird nor beast. For almost forty days did we struggle on through mists so thick that we could actually feel them and brush them aside with a motion of the hand."

At last this stage of their journey came to an end, and the Crusaders arrived at Constantinople. In the lands north of the Alps, there were at that time none of the vast and richly ornamented churches and other buildings which later arose; all was poor, and lacking in stateliness and beauty. Constantinople, however, was the most beautiful city of the world; so the sight of it filled the Crusaders with awe and admiration.

"Oh how great a city it is!" wrote one of their number; "how noble and beautiful! What wondrously wrought monasteries and palaces are therein! What marvels everywhere in street and square! It would be tedious to recite its wealth in all precious things, in gold and silver, in cloaks of many shapes, and saintly relics. For to this place ships bring all things that man may require."

Now that these sturdy warriors of the West were actually at Constantinople, the Greek Emperor began to fear lest they might prove more troublesome to his empire than the Turks themselves.

"Some of the Crusaders," wrote the Emperor's daughter, "were guileless men and women marching in all simplicity to worship at the tomb of Christ. But there were others of a more wicked kind. Such men had but one object, and this was to get possession of the Emperor's capital."

After much suspicion on both sides, and many disputes, the Emperor got the "Franks"—as the Crusaders were called—safely away from the city, and over into Asia Minor. There, at last, they met the Turks. At first the latter rushed joyously into battle, dragging ropes with which to bind the Christians captive; but soon they found that the "Franks" were more than a match for them. Nicaea, the city where Constantine held the first Church council, was soon taken; and the Crusaders then pressed on to other and greater victories.

Letter-writing was not nearly so common in those days as it is now; but some of the Crusaders wrote letters home, telling of their deeds. A few of these have come down to us across the centuries; and in order that you may learn what the Crusaders were thinking and feeling, as well as what they were doing, one of them is given here. The writer was a rich and powerful noble, and the letter was written while the army was laying siege, with battering rams and siege towers, to the strongly walled city of Antioch.

"Count Stephen to Adele, his sweetest and most amiable wife, to his dear children, and to all his vassals of all ranks,—his greeting and blessing:

"You may be very sure, dearest, that the messenger (whom I send to give you pleasure) left me before Antioch safe and unharmed, and through God's grace in the greatest prosperity. Already at that time we had been continuously advancing for twenty-three weeks toward the home of our Lord Jesus. You may know for certain, my beloved, that of gold, silver, and many other kinds of riches I now have twice as much as your love had wished for me when I left you. For all our princes, with the common consent of the whole army and against my own wishes, have made me, up to the present time, the leader, chief, and director of their whole expedition.

"You have certainly heard that, after the capture of the city of Nicæa, we fought a great battle with the faithless Turks, and by God's aid conquered them. Next we conquered for the Lord all Roumania, and afterwards Cappadocia. Thence, continually following the wicked Turks, we drove them through the midst of Armenia, as far as the great river Euphrates. Having left all their baggage and beasts of burden on the bank, they fled across the river into Arabia.

"Some of the bolder of the Turkish soldiers, however, entered Syria and hastened by forced marches night and day to enter the royal city of Antioch before our approach. The whole army of God, learning this, gave due praise and thanks to the all-powerful Lord. Hastening with great joy to Antioch, we besieged it, and had many conflicts there with the Turks. Seven times we fought, with the fiercest courage and under the leadership of Christ, against the citizens of Antioch and the innumerable troops which were coming to its aid. In all these seven battles, by the aid of the Lord God, we conquered, and assuredly killed an innumerable host of them. In those battles, indeed, and in very many attacks made upon the city, many of our brethren and followers were killed, and their souls were borne to the joys of Paradise.

"In fighting against these enemies of God and of our own, we have by God's grace endured many sufferings and innumerable evils up to the present time. Many have already exhausted all their resources in this very holy expedition. Very many of our Franks, indeed, would have met death from starvation, if the mercy of God, and our money, had not helped them. Before the city of Antioch, and indeed throughout the whole winter, we suffered for our Lord Christ from excessive cold and great torrents of rain. What some say about the impossibility of bearing the heat of the sun throughout Syria is untrue, for the winter here is very similar to our winter in the West.

"When the Emir of Antioch—that is, its prince and lord—perceived that he was hard pressed by us, he sent his son to the prince who holds Jerusalem, and to the prince of Damascus, and to three other princes. These five Emirs, with 12,000 picked Turkish horsemen, suddenly came to aid the inhabitants of Antioch. We, indeed, ignorant of this, had sent many of our soldiers away to the cities and fortresses; for there are one hundred and sixty-five cities and fortresses throughout Syria which are in our power. But a little before they reached the city, we attacked them at three leagues' distance, with seven hundred soldiers. God surely fought for us against them; for on that day we conquered them and killed an innumerable multitude; and we carried back to the army more than two hundred of their heads, in order that the people might rejoice on that account.

"These things which I write to you are only a few, dearest, of the many deeds which we have done. And because I am not able to tell you, dearest, what is in my mind, I charge you to do right, to carefully watch over your land, to do your duty as you ought to your children and your vassals. You will certainly see me just as soon as I can possibly return to you. Farewell."

The capture of Antioch was the hardest task that the Crusaders had to perform; and it was not until three months later that the city was finally safe in their hands. Many of the Crusaders became discouraged meanwhile and started home.

At this trying time, a priest declared that it had been revealed to him in a dream, thrice repeated, that the head of the spear which had pierced our Lord's side lay buried near one of the altars of a church near by; and it was further revealed, he said, that if this was found and borne at the head of the army, victory would surely follow. After long search, and much prayer and fasting, the "holy lance" was found. Then there was great joy and new courage among the Christians; and when next they marched against the Turks, the Crusaders fought more fiercely than ever.

"Thanks to the Lord's Lance," writes one of their number, "none of us were wounded,—no, not so much as by an arrow. I, who speak these things, saw them for myself, since I was bearing the Lord's Lance."

The Crusaders continued to fight valiantly until Antioch was theirs, and the armies which had marched to its relief were defeated and scattered.

The Crusaders were now free to march on to Jerusalem. There men and animals suffered much from lack of food and water. "Many," an old writer says, "lay near the dried-up springs unable to utter a cry because of the dryness of their tongues; and there they remained, with open mouths, and hands stretched out to those whom they saw had water."

Again the priests saw visions; and it was promised to the Crusaders that if the army marched barefoot around the city for nine days, the city would fall.

So, a procession was formed, and the Crusaders marched around the city, with white-robed priests and bishops, cross in hand, at their head, chanting hymns and praying as they went. As the procession passed by, the Mohammedans mocked at them from the walls; and some beat a cross, crying out:

"Look, Franks! It is the holy cross on which your Christ was slain!"

After this the chiefs ordered an attack on the city from two sides. The Mohammedans were now beaten back from the walls by the showers of stones thrown by the hurling machines, while blazing arrows carried fire to the roofs of the buildings in the city. Battering rams, too, were at work breaking great holes in the solid walls, and scaling ladders were placed, by which the Christians swarmed over the ramparts. So, at last, the city fell.

MACHINE FOR HURLING STONES.

Jerusalem,—the holy Jerusalem, which held the tomb of Christ—was now once more in the hands of the Christians. But what a terrible day was that! How little of the meek and just spirit of Christ did his followers show! "When our men had taken the city, with its walls and towers," writes one of the Crusaders, "there were things wondrous to be seen. For some of the enemy—and this is a small matter—were deprived of their heads; others, riddled through with arrows, were forced to leap down from the towers; and others, after long torture, were burned in the flames. In all the streets and squares there were to be seen piles of heads, and hands, and feet; and along the public ways foot and horse alike made passage over the bodies of the slain."

In this way the Crusaders fulfilled their vow to "wrest the Holy Sepulchre from the infidel." How many hundreds of thousands of lives, both Christian and Mohammedan, were lost to gain this end! What agonies of battle, what sufferings on the way, what numbers of women made widows and children left fatherless! And all this that the tomb of Christ might not remain in the hands of a people who did not accept His religion! How pityingly the Christ must have looked down upon this struggle with His mild, sweet eyes! How far away this bloodshed and war seems from the teachings of Him whose birth was heralded by the angels' cry: "Peace on earth, good will towards men!"

"Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy," said Christ; but this teaching, alas, the Crusaders seemed not to know.

Later Crusades

After the Holy Land was won, a government had to be organized to prevent the land from slipping back into the hands of the infidels.

The Crusaders knew only one way to rule a land—namely, the feudal way. That was the way Western Europe was ruled, so that was the form of government set up in Palestine. The land was divided into a number of fiefs, and each of these was given to a Crusading chief. In each fief the feudal law and a feudal government was then introduced. Jerusalem, with the country about, was formed into "the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem," and was given to Godfrey of Bouillon, one of the most famous of the Crusaders. The rest of the land was formed into three principalities, each with its own feudal head, and with many vassal Crusaders.

The peasants who tilled the soil before the Crusaders came were not driven off. They had long been Christians, though they worshiped more like the Greeks than like the Latins. The only difference in their position was that now they were to pay rent and taxes to Christian masters, and not to Turks and Saracens.

As soon as Jerusalem had fallen, most of the Crusaders began to make preparations for returning home. Soon Godfrey and his fellow rulers were left with mere handfuls of men to resist the attacks of the Mohammedans. If the latter had been united, they could easily at this time have driven the "Franks" into the sea. But the Mohammedans were quarreling among themselves, and besides had learned to fear the mail-clad Franks.

So the Christians were given time to prepare their defence. Huge castles were everywhere built to protect the lands they had won. New companies of Crusaders, too, were constantly arriving to take the place of those who had returned home; and merchants from the Italian cities were coming to settle for the purpose of carrying on trade.

Soon, too, three special orders of knights were formed to protect the Holy Land, and care for the Christians. The first of these was the Knights of the Hospital, or the Knights of St. John; its chief purpose was to care for and protect sick pilgrims. The second was the Order of the Temple, or Knights Templar; they got their name because their headquarters were in the temple at Jerusalem. The third was the Order of the Teutonic Knights, which received its name because its members were Germans, while the members of the other orders were mostly French.

The members of these orders were both monks and knights. They were bound like monks by vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience; but they were also knights engaged in a perpetual crusade against the infidel. The Hospitallers wore a white cross on a black mantle; the Templars a red cross on a white mantle; and the Teutonic Knights a black cross on a mantle of white. These "military orders" became very powerful and wealthy, and helped a great deal to keep the Holy Land in the hands of the Christians.

For nearly half a century after Jerusalem was recovered there was no very great danger to the rule of the Franks. Then all Europe was startled by the news that one of the four Christian principalities had been conquered by the Saracens, and the Christians put to the sword. At once there was great fear lest the other states should fall also, and preparations were made for sending out a large number of Crusaders to their assistance.

A KNIGHT TEMPLAR.

This expedition started in the year 1147, and is known as the Second Crusade. The kings of two of the leading countries of Europe, Conrad III. of Germany and Louis VII. of France, led the forces. Their armies took the same route—down the river Danube and across to Constantinople—that the first Crusade had followed. Again there was terrible suffering on the way. The German army was almost entirely destroyed in Asia Minor; and although the French reached Palestine in safety, very little was accomplished in the way of strengthening the Christians there.

After the failure of this Crusade, there was no great change for forty years. Twice a year, in the spring and autumn, a number of vessels would sail from the cities of Italy and Southern France carrying pilgrims and adventurers to Palestine. In this way the strength of the Christian states was kept up, in spite of the number who were constantly returning.

Towards the end of this period, rumors began to come of a great Mohammedan leader who had arisen in Egypt, and was threatening Palestine with new danger. He was called Saladin, and was one of the greatest rulers the Mohammedans ever had. He was foremost in battle, and wise and far-sighted in council. When he was victorious, he dealt generously with his enemies; and when defeated he was never cast down. He was ever simple in his habits, just and upright in his dealings, and true to his promises. He was, in short, as chivalrous a warrior, and as sincere a believer in his faith, as any of the Christian knights against whom he fought.

For Saladin, as well as for the Crusaders, the war for Palestine was a "holy war"; and soon his power was grown so great that he could attack them from all sides.

"So great is the multitude of the Saracens and Turks," wrote one of the Crusaders in speaking of his armies, "that from the city of Tyre, which they are besieging, they cover the face of the earth as far as Jerusalem, like an innumerable army of ants."

When the Christians marched out to battle, they were overthrown with terrible slaughter; and the King of Jerusalem, and the Grand Master of the Templars, were among the captives taken. Three months after this, Saladin laid siege to Jerusalem itself. For two weeks only the city held out; at the end of that time it was forced to sue for peace.

The mercy which Saladin now showed to the conquered Christians was in strange contrast to the cruelty which the Crusaders had displayed when the city fell into their hands. There was no slaughter such as had occurred ninety years before, and the greater number of the defeated party were allowed to go free, on paying a ransom. But the crosses on the churches were torn down, the bells were destroyed, and the churches themselves were changed into Mohammedan mosques. Once more the Holy Land was in the hands of the unbelievers.

When news of these events reached Europe, it caused great excitement. The three most powerful rulers,—Frederick of Germany, Philip of France, and Richard the Lion-Hearted of England,—took the cross, and in the years 1189 and 1190 they led forth their followers to the Third Crusade.

The Emperor Frederick of Germany,—who was called "Barbarossa," on account of his red beard,—had been one of those who followed King Conrad in the Second Crusade; now although he was seventy years old, he was the first to start on the Third. He led his army by the old land route, but his forces were better organized, and there was not so much hardship as there had been before. Except for one battle which they had to fight with the Greek Emperor, all went well until the army reached Asia Minor. There, alas! The old Emperor was drowned, while swimming a river one hot day, to refresh himself and shorten his way. After that the German army went to pieces, and most of its members lost their lives in the mountains and deserts of Asia Minor, or were cut down by Turkish soldiers.

THE LEGEND OF BARBAROSSA.

In Germany the people refused to believe that their king was dead. Long after this, stories were told of the good Barbarossa, who slept from year to year in a rocky cavern high up on a lonely mountain side, with his head resting on his hand and his long red beard grown round the granite blocks by his side. There, the people said, he lay sleeping throughout the ages; but when the ravens should cease to fly about the mountain, the Emperor would wake to punish the wicked and bring back the golden age to the world.

When at last Philip of France and Richard of England were ready, they took ship to avoid the hardships of the journey by land. From the beginning, however, things went wrong. Richard and Philip were very jealous of each other, and could not get along together. Philip was only half-hearted in the Crusade, and longed to be back in France; while Richard allowed himself to be turned aside for a while to other things.

ATTACKING A CITY—I

When they reached the Holy Land, they found the Christians laying siege to Acre, one of the sea-ports near Jerusalem. The siege had already lasted more than a year, and for several months longer it dragged on. It was a dreary time for the Christians. "The Lord is not in the camp," wrote one of their number; "there is none that doeth good. The leaders strive with one another, while the lesser folk starve, and have none to help. The Turks are persistent in attack, while our knights skulk within their tents. The strength of Saladin increases daily, but daily does our army wither away."

At last Acre was taken,—mainly through the skill and daring of King Richard, who was one of the best warriors of that day, and knew well how to use the battering-rams, stone-throwers, moveable towers, and other military "engines" to batter down walls and take cities. Philip was already weary of the Crusade, and soon after returned to France. Richard remained for more than a year longer. In this time he won some military successes; but he could not take Jerusalem.

Finally news came to Richard from England that his brother John was plotting to make himself king. Richard was now obliged to return home. The only advantage he had gained for the Christians was a truce for three years, permitting pilgrims to go to the Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem without hindrance.

ATTACKING A CITY—II

Before he left, Richard warned Saladin that he would return to renew the war; but he never did. On his way home he was shipwrecked and was obliged to pass by land through Germany. There he was recognized by his enemies, and kept prisoner till he paid a heavy ransom. Then, after his release, he found himself engaged in troubles with his brother John, and in war with King Philip; and at last, in the year 1199, he died from an arrow wound while fighting in France.

The remaining Crusades are not of so much importance as the First and the Third.

On the Fourth Crusade, the Crusaders were persuaded by the Venetians to attack the Christian city of Constantinople. In this way the Greek Empire passed for fifty years into the hands of the Latin Christians. The Venetians were the ones who chiefly profited by this Crusade, for they secured many islands in the Eastern Mediterranean Sea, and important trading privileges.

As a result of the Fifth Crusade, Jerusalem was recovered for a while; but this was accomplished through a treaty, and not as the result of victories won by arms.

The Sixth Crusade was led by the good king, St. Louis of France. The Crusaders now sought to attack the Saracens in Egypt; but they were defeated, and the French king himself was captured and forced to pay a heavy ransom to secure his freedom.

ST. LOUIS IN CAPTIVITY.

The last Crusade was the Seventh, which was also led by St. Louis of France. Now the Crusaders attacked the Saracens in Tunis. Again the Crusade was a failure, and this time the French king lost his life, through a sickness which broke out in the army.

After this, for more than a century, popes and kings talked of crusades, and raised taxes and made preparations for them. But though they fought the heathen in Prussia, and the Mohammedans in Spain and in Hungary, no more crusades went to the Holy Land to win the sepulchre of Christ from the infidel. Men no longer thought that this was so important as it had once seemed to them; and no doubt they were right. It doesn't make so much difference who rules the land where Christ lived and died; the great question is whether Christ lives and rules in the hearts and lives of those who follow Him.

Although the Crusades failed in what they were intended to accomplish, they had some very important results. The returning Crusaders broguht back with them many plants and other things which were new to Europe. Among these were the sugar cane, orange, lemon, watermelon, apricot, and rice. Cottons, muslins, damask, satin, velvet, and new dye-stuffs were also introduced. Besides these new products, there were changes at home which were even more important. The expense of setting forth on the Crusades caused many lords to free their serfs in return for money, and to sell to the towns which were on their lands the right to govern themselves. The power of the nobles was thus weakened by these expeditions, while that of the King and towns was strengthened.

Most important of all was the influence of the Crusades on ideas. For nearly two hundred years men were going and coming in great number to and from the Holy Land, seeing strange countries and strange peoples, and learning new customs. Before the Crusades, each district lived by itself, and its inhabitants scarcely ever heard of the rest of the world. During the Crusades this separation was broken down, and people from all parts of Christendom met together. In this way men came to learn more of the world, and of the people who dwelt in it; and their minds were broadened by this knowledge. Never after the Crusades, as a result, was the life of man quite so dark, so dreary, and so narrow, as it had been before. From this time on, the Middle Ages gradually changed their character; for influences were now at work to bring this period to an end, and bring about the beginning of Modern Times.

Life of the Castle

Before we consider what the influences were which brought the Middle Ages to a close, we must see more clearly what the life of that period was like. We will first read about the life of the castle, where lordly knights and gentle ladies dwelt. Then we will see what was the manner of life of the peasants who dwelt in the villages, and the merchants and craftsmen who dwelt in the cities and towns. Finally we will visit the monasteries, and see what was the life of the monks and nuns, who gave their lives to the service and praise of God.

If you visit France, Germany, and other European countries to-day, you will find everywhere the ruins of massive stone castles, rearing their tall towers on the hilltops, and commanding the passage of roads and rivers. At the present time these are mostly tumbled down, and overgrown with moss and ivy, and nobody cares to live within their dark walls.

A CASTLE OF TH ELEVENTH CENTURY.

In the Middle Ages it was not so. Then they were the safest places in which to live; so in spite of their cold and gloom, they became the centers of the life of the time. It was from the castles that the feudal barons ruled their lands. It was there that the people found refuge from the attacks of the Northmen and Hungarians. It was from the castles that the Crusaders set out for the Holy Land. In them chivalry was born and flourished; at their gates tournaments, jousts, and other knightly festivals took place; and in their halls the wandering singers, who were building up a new literature, found the readiest welcome and the most eager and appreciative listeners.

Let us fancy ourselves back in the eleventh or twelfth century, and examine a castle. We shall find the country very different, we may be sure, from what it is to-day. Great thick forests stand where now there are flourishing towns; and everything has a wilder, more unsettled look.

Here is a castle, in France, that will suit our purpose. It was built by one of the vassals of William the Conqueror, and has been the scene of many sieges and battles. See how everything is arranged so as to make easy its defence. It is built on the top of a steep hill; and around its walls a deep ditch or moat is dug. At the outer edge of the moat we see a strong fence or palisade of heavy stakes set in the ground. Just inside this is a path, along which the sentries march in time of war. The gate, too, is doubly and triply guarded. In front of it is a drawbridge across the moat—indeed, there are two; and the space between is guarded by a protecting wall. In later days these drawbridges were made stronger and more complicated, and heavy towers with walls of masonry were built, the better to protect the entrance.

When we have passed these outer works, we come to a heavy wooden door between two tall towers which mark the entrance to the walls. We pass through this, and find ourselves within the gateway. But we are still far from being in the castle. In the narrow vaulted passage-way before us, we see suspended a heavy iron grating, called the portcullis, which may come rattling down at any moment to bar our passage. And beyond this is another door; and beyond this another portcullis. The entrance to the castle is indeed well guarded; and the porter who keeps watch at the gate, and has to open and shut all these barriers, is at times a busy man.

At last we are past the gateway and find ourselves in an open courtyard. The thick walls of the castle surround us on all sides, and at their top we see the battlements and loopholes through which arrows may be shot at the enemy. Here and there the wall is protected by stone towers, in which are stairways leading to the battlements above. In the first courtyard we find the stables, where the lord of the castle keeps his horses. Here, too, is space for the shelter of the villagers in time of war; and here, perhaps, is the great brick oven in which bread is baked to feed the lord and all his followers.

Going on we come to a wall or palisade, which separates the courtyard we are in from one lying beyond it. In later times this wall, too, was made much stronger than we find it here. Passing through a gateway, we come into the second courtyard. Here again we find a number of buildings, used for different purposes. In one are the storerooms and cellars, where provisions are kept to enable the dwellers in the castle to stand a siege. Next to this is a building shaped like a great jug, with a large chimney at the top, and smaller ones in a circle round about. This is the kitchen, in which the food is cooked for the lord of the castle and his household. The cooking, we may be sure, is usually simple,—most of the meats being roasted on spits over open fires, and elaborate dishes, with sauces and spices, being unknown. Most castles have, in addition, a small church or chapel in this courtyard, in which the inhabitants may worship.

The most important building of all is still to be described. There at the end of the courtyard we see the tall "keep" of the castle, which the French called "donjon," and in whose basement there are "dungeons" indeed, for traitors and captured enemies. This is the true stronghold of the baron, and it is a secure retreat. Think of all the hard fighting there must be before the enemy can even reach it. The drawbridges must be crossed, the gates must be battered down, and the portcullises pried up; the first courtyard must be cleared; the dividing wall must be carried; the second courtyard also must be cleared of its defenders. And when the enemy, bruised and worn, at last arrive at the keep, their work is just begun. There the lord and his followers will make their last stand, and the fighting will be fiercer than ever.

The walls of the keep are of stone, eight to ten feet thick; and from the loopholes in its frowning sides peer skilled archers and crossbowmen, ready to let fly their bolts and arrows at all in sight. A long, long siege will be necessary, to starve out its defenders. If this is not done, movable towers must be erected, battering rams placed, stone-hurling machines brought up, blazing arrows shot at the roof and windows, and tunnels dug to undermine the walls. In this way the castle may be burned, or an entrance at last be gained. But even then there will be fierce fighting in the narrow passageways, in the dimly-lighted halls, and on the winding stairways which lead from story to story. It will be long, indeed, before our lord's banner is torn from the summit of the tower, and his enemy's is placed in its stead! And even when all is lost, there still remain hidden stairways in the castle walls, underground passages opening into the moat, and the gate in the rear, through which the lord and his garrison may yet escape to the woods and open fields; and so continue the battle another day.

In later days, stronger and more complicated castles were erected, especially after Western lords had begun to go on the Crusades, adn had seen teh great fortresses of the Eastern Empire. The picture on the following page shows such a castle, erected in Normandy by Richard the Lion-Hearted, and called by him the "Saucy Castle" (Chateau Gaillard) because of its defiance of the French King. The picture also shows hurling engines set for attack, and a movable tower being brought to scale its walls.

CASTLE IN NORMANDY BELONGING TO RICHARD THE LION-HEARTED OF ENGLAND.

But let us inquire rather concerning the life of the castle in time of peace. Where and how does the lord and his household live? How are his children educated? And with what do they amuse themselves in the long days when there is no enemy to attack their walls, and no distant expedition in which to engage?

Sometimes the lord and his family live in the upper stories of the huge donjon, where arms and supplies are always stored. But this is so gloomy, with its thick walls and narrow windows, that many lords build more comfortable "halls" in their courtyards, and prefer to live in these.

Let us look in upon such a "hall," whether it is in the donjon, or in a separate building. There we find a great wide room, large enough to hold all the inhabitants of the castle, when the lord wishes to gather them about him. This is the real center of the life of the castle. Here the lord eats and sleeps; here the great banquets are given; here he receives his vassals to do homage; here he plays chess and backgammon with his companions; and here in the evening the inmates gather, perchance to listen to the songs and tales of wandering minstrels.

Within the castle are many people, occupying themselves in many ways. In the courtyards are servants and dependents caring for the horses, cooking in the kitchen, and busily engaged in other occupations. Elsewhere are those whose duty it is to guard the castle—the porter at the gate, the watchman on the tower, and the men-at-arms to defend the walls in case of attack. Besides these we see many boys and young men who are evidently of too noble birth to be servants, and yet are too young to be warriors. Who can they be?

These are the sons of the lord of the castle, and of other lords, who are learning to be knights. Their training is long and careful. Until he is seven years old, the little noble is left to the care of his mother and the women of the castle. At the age of seven his knightly education begins. Usually the boy is sent away from home to the castle of his father's lord, or some famous knight, there to be brought up and trained for knighthood.

From the age of seven till he reaches the age of fourteen, the boy is called a page or "varlet," which means "little vassal." There he waits upon the lord and lady of the castle. He serves them at table, and he attends to them when they ride forth to the chase. From them he learns lessons of honor and bravery, of love and chivalry. Above all, he learns how to ride and handle a horse.

When the young noble has become a well-grown lad of fourteen or fifteen, he is made a "squire." Now it is his duty to look after his lord's horses and arms. The horses must be carefully groomed every morning, and the squire must see that their shoes are all right. He must also see that his lord's arms and armor are kept bright and free from rust. When the lord goes forth to war, his squire accompanies him, riding on a big strong horse, and carrying his lord's shield and lance. When the lord goes into battle, his squire must stay near, leading a spare steed and ready to hand his master fresh weapons at any moment. After several years of this service, the squire may himself be allowed to use weapons and fight at his lord's side; and sometimes he may even be allowed to ride forth alone in search of adventures.

A LADY HUNTING WITH A FALCON.

In this manner the squire learns the business of a knight, which is fighting. But he also learns his amusements and accomplishments.

Let us approach a group of squires in the castle hall, when their work is done, and they are tired of chess and backgammon. They are discussing, perhaps, as to which is the more interesting, hunting or falconry; and we may hear a delicate featured squire hold forth in this way:

"What can be prettier than a bright-eyed, well- trained falcon hawk? And what can be pleasanter than the sport of flying it at the birds? Take some fine September morning, when the sky is blue and the air is fresh, and our lord and lady ride forth with their attendants. Each carries his falcon on his gloved left hand, and we hurry forward in pursuit of cranes, herons, ducks, and other birds. When one is sighted, a falcon is unhooded, and let fly at it. The falcon's bells tinkle merrily as it rises. Soon it is in the air above the game, and swift as an arrow it darts upon the prey, plunging its talons into it, and crouching over it until the hunter gallops up to recover both falcon and prey. This is the finest hunting. And what skill is necessary, too, in rearing and training the birds! Ah, falconry is the sport for me!"

But this does not seem to be the opinion of most of the group. Their views are expressed by a tall, strongly-built squire, who says:

"Falconry is all right for women and boys, but it is not the sport for men. What are your falcons to my hounds and harriers! The education of one good boar-hound, I can tell you, requires as much care as all your falcons; and when you are done the dog loves you, and that is more than you can say for your hawks. And the chase itself is far more exciting. The hounds are uncoupled, and set yelping upon the scent, and away we dash after them, plunging through the woods, leaping glades and streams in our haste. At last we reach the spot where the game has turned at bay, and find an enormous boar, defending himself stoutly and fiercely against the hounds. Right and left he rolls the dogs. With his back bristling with rage, he charges straight for the huntsmen. Look out, now; for his sharp tusks cut like a knife! But the huntsmen are skilled, and the dogs play well their part. Before the beast can reach man or horse, he is pierced by a dozen spears, and is nailed to the ground, dead! Isn't this a nobler sport than hawking?"

ARMING THE KNIGHT.

So, we may be sure, most of the knights and squires will agree. But the ladies, and many of the squires and knights, will still love best the sport of falconry.

In this way the squire spends his days until he reaches the age of twenty or twenty-one. He has now proved both his courage and his skill, and at last his lord says that he has "earned his spurs."

So the squire is to be made a knight; and this is the occasion for great festivities. In company with other squires who are candidates for knighthood, he must go through a careful preparation. First comes the bath, which is the mark of purification. Then he puts on garments of red, white, and black. The red means the blood he is willing to shed in defence of the Church and of the oppressed; the white means that his mind is pure and clean; and the black is to remind him of death, which comes to all.

A GREAT FEAST IN THE TWELFTH CENTURY.

Next comes the "watching of the arms." All night the squires keep watch, fasting and praying, before the altar in the church on which their arms have been placed; and though they may stand or kneel, they must on no account sit or lie down. At the break of day the priest comes. After they have each confessed their sins to him, they hear mass and take the holy sacrament. Perhaps, too, the priest preaches a sermon on the proud duties of a knight, and the obligations which they owe to God and the Church.

At last the squires assemble in the courtyard of the castle, or in some open place outside the walls. There they find great numbers of knights and ladies who have come to grace the occasion of their knighting. Each squire in turn now takes his place on a carpet which is spread on the ground, and his friends and relatives assist in girding on his armor and his sword. Then comes the most trying moment of all. His father or his lord advances and gives him what is called the "accolade." At first this was a heavy blow with the fist, given upon the squire's neck; but later it was with the flat of a sword upon his shoulder. At the same time the person who gives the accolade cries out:

"In the name of God, and St. Michael, and St. George, I dub thee knight! Be brave and loyal!"

The squire is now a knight, but the festival is not yet over. The new-made knights must first give an exhibition of their skill in riding and handling their horses, and in striking with their lances marks which are set up for them to ride at. Then comes fencing with their swords on horseback. Perhaps this is followed by a regular "tournament," in which knights, both old and new, ride against one another in mimic warfare. With closed helmets and lowered lances, the knights charge at one another, each seeking to unhorse his opponent. Lances are shattered, armor battered, adn sometimes serious wounds are received in this rough sport; while bright-eyed ladies sit beside the "lists," to inspire their knights to brave deeds in their honor. Then the day is wound up with a great feast, and music and the distribution of presents.

At last, the guests depart; and the new-made knights go off to bed, to dream of Saracens to be fought in the Holy Land, and dragons to be slain, and wicked knights to be encountered,—and above all, of beautiful maidens to be rescued and served with loyalty and love.

So they dream the dreams of chivalry. And when they awaken, the better ones among them—but not all, alas!—will seek to put their dreams into action.

Life of the Village

One thing about the life of the knights and squires has not yet been explained; that is, how they were supported. They neither cultivated the fields, nor manufactured articles for sale, nor engaged in commerce. How, then, were they fed and clothed, and furnished with their expensive armor and horses? How, in short, was all this life of the castle kept up,—with its great buildings, its constant wars, its costly festivals, and its idleness?

We may find the explanation of this in the saying of a bishop who lived in the early part of the Middle Ages.

"God," said he, "divided the human race from the beginning into three classes. There were, the priests, whose duty it was to pray and serve God; the knights, whose duty is was to defend society; and the peasants, whose duty it was to till the soil and support by their labor the other classes."

This, indeed, was the arrangement as it existed during the whole of the Middle Ages. The "serfs" and "villains" who tilled the soil, together with the merchants and craftsmen of the towns, bore all the burden of supporting the more picturesque classes above them.

PLAN OF A VILLAGE

Life of the Town

We must now consider the life of the towns during the Middle Ages.

The Germans had never lived in cities in their old homes; so when they came into the Roman Empire they preferred the free life of the country to settling within the town walls. The old Roman cities which had sprung up all over the Empire had already lost much of their importance; and under these country-loving conquerors they soon lost what was left. In many places the inhabitants entirely disappeared; other places decreased in size; and all lost the right which they had had of governing themselves.

The inhabitants of the towns became no better off than the peasants who lived in the little villages. In both the people lived by tilling the soil. In both the lord of the district made laws, appointed officers, and settled disputes in his own court. There was little difference indeed between the villages and towns, except a difference in size.

This was the condition of things during the early part of the Middle Ages, while feudalism was slowly arising, and the nobles were beating back the attacks of the Saracens, the Hungarians, and the Northmen.

At last, in the tenth and eleventh centuries, as we have seen, this danger was overcome. Now men might travel from place to place without constant danger of being robbed or slain. Commerce and manufacturers began to spring up again, and the people of the towns supported themselves by these as well as by agriculture. With commerce and manufactures, too, came riches. This was especially true in Italy and Southern France, where the townsmen were able by their position to take part in the trade with Constantinople and Egypt, and also to gain money by carrying pilgrims and Crusaders in their ships to the Holy Land. With riches, too, came power; and with power came the desire to free themselves from the rule of their lord.

So, all over civilized Europe, during the eleventh, twelfth, and thirteenth centuries, we find new towns arising, and old ones getting the right to govern themselves.

In Italy the towns gained power first; then in Southern France; then in Northern France; and then along the valley of the river Rhine, and the coasts of the Baltic Sea. Sometimes the towns bought their freedom from their lords; sometimes they won it after long struggles and much fighting. Sometimes the nobles and clergy were wise enough to join with the townsmen, and share in the benefits which the town brought; sometimes they fought them foolishly and bitterly.

A GERMAN CITY

In Germany and in Italy the power of the kings was not great enough to make much difference one way or the other. In France the kings favored the towns against their lords, and used them to break down the power of the feudal nobles. Then, when the king's power had become so strong that they no longer feared the nobles, they checked the power of the towns lest they in turn might become powerful and independent.

Thus, in different ways and at different times, there grew up the cities of mediaeval Europe.

In Italy there sprang up the free cities of Venice, Florence, Pisa, Genoa, and others, where scholars and artists were to arise and bring a new birth to learning and art; where, also, daring seamen were to be trained, like Columbus, Cabot, and Vespucius, to discover, in later times, the New World. In France the citizens showed their skill by building those beautiful Gothic cathedrals which are still so much admired. In the towns of Germany and Holland clever workmen invented and developed the art of printing, and so made possible the learning and education of to-day.

The civilization of modern times, indeed, owes a great debt to these old towns and their sturdy inhabitants.

Let us see now what those privileges were which the townsmen got, and which enabled them to help on the world's progress so much. To us these privileges would not seem so very great. In hundreds of towns in France the lords granted only such rights as the following:

1. The townsmen shall pay only small fixed sums for the rent of their lands, and as a tax when they sell goods, etc.

2. They shall not be obliged to go to war for their lord, unless they can return the same day if they choose.

3. When they have law-suits, the townsmen shall not be obliged to go outside the town to have them tried.

4. No charge shall be made for the use of the town oven; and the townsmen may gather the dead wood in the lord's forest for fuel.

5. The townsmen shall be allowed to sell their property when they wish, and leave the town without hindrance from the lord.

6. Any peasant who remains a year and a day in the town, without being claimed by his lord, shall be free.

In other places the townsmen got in addition the right to elect their own judges; and in still others they got the right to elect all  their officers.

CATHEDRAL OF COLOGNE

Towns of this latter class were sometimes called "communes." Over them the lord had very little right, except to receive such sums of money as it was agreed should be paid to him. In some places, as in Italy, these communes became practically independent, and had as much power as the lords themselves. They made laws, and coined money, and had their vassals, and waged war just as the lords did. But there was this important difference: in the communes the rights belonged to the citizens as a whole, and not to one person. This made all the citizens feel an interest in the town affairs, and produced an enterprising, determined spirit among them. At the same time, the citizens were trained in the art of self-government in using these rights. In this way the world was being prepared for a time when governments like ours,—"of the people, for the people, and by the people,"—should be possible.

But this was to come only after many, many years. The townsmen often used their power selfishly, and in the interest of their families and their own class. Often the rich and powerful townsmen were as cruel and harsh toward the poorer and weaker classes as the feudal lords themselves. Fierce and bitter struggles often broke out in the towns, between the citizens who had power, and those who had none. Often, too, there were great family quarrels, continued from generation to generation, like the one which is told of in Shakespeare's play, "Romeo and Juliet."

In Italy there came in time to be two great parties called the "Guelfs" and the "Ghibellines." At first there was a real difference in views between them; but by and by they became merely two rival factions. Then Guelfs were known from Ghibellines by the way they cut their fruit at table; by the color of roses they wore; by the way they yawned, and spoke, and were clad. Often the struggles and brawls became so fierce in a city that to get a little peace the townsmen would call in an outsider to rule over them for a while.

With the citizens so divided among themselves, it will not surprise you to learn that the communes everywhere at last lost their independence. They passed under the rule of the king, as in France; or else, as happened in Italy, they fell into the power of some "tyrant" or local lord.

But let us think, not of the weaknesses and mistakes of these old townsmen, but of their earnest, busy life, and its quaint surroundings. Imagine yourself a peasant lad, fleeing from your lord or coming for the first time to the market in a mediaeval town.

As we approach the city gates we see that the walls are strong and crowned with turrets; and the gate is defended with drawbridge and portcullis like the entrance to a castle. Within, are narrow, winding streets, with rows of tall-roofed houses, each with its garden attached. The houses themselves are more like our houses to-day than like the Greek and Roman ones; for they have no courtyard in the interior and are several stories high. The roadway is unpaved, and full of mud; and there are no sewers. If you walk the streets after nightfall, you must carry a torch to light your footsteps, for there are no street-lamps. There are no policemen; but if you are out after dark, you must beware the "city watch," who take turns in guarding the city, for they will make you give a strict account of yourself.

A SHOP IN THE MIDDLE AGES.

Now, however, it is day, and we need have no fear. Presently we come into the business parts of the city, and there we find the different trades grouped together in different streets. Here are the goldsmiths, and there are the tanners; here the cloth merchants, and there the butchers; here the armor-smiths, and there the money-changers. The shops are all small and on the ground floor, with their wares exposed for sale in the open windows.

Let us look in at one of the goldsmiths' shops. The shop-keeper and his wife are busily engaged waiting on customers and inviting passers-by to stop and examine their goods. Within we see several men and boys at work, making the goods which their master sells. There the gold is melted and refined; the right amount of alloy is mixed with it; then it is cast, beaten, and filed into the proper shape. Then perhaps the article is enameled and jewels are set in it.

All of these things are done in this one little shop; and so it is for each trade. The workmen must all begin at the beginning, and start with the rough material; and the "apprentices," as the boys are called, must learn each of the processes by which the raw material is turned into the finished article.

Thus a long term of apprenticeship is necessary for each trade, lasting sometimes for ten years. During this time the boys are fed, clothed and lodged with their master's family above the shop, and receive no pay. If they misbehave, he has the right to punish them; and if they run away, he can pursue them and bring them back. Their life, however, is not so hard as that of the peasant boys, for they are better fed and housed, and have more to look forward to.

When their apprenticeship is finished, they will become full members of the "guild" of their trade, and may work for whatever master they please. For a while they may wander from city to city, working now for this master and now for that. In each city they will find the workers at their trade all united together into a guild, with a charter from the king or other lord which permits them to make rules for carrying on of that business and to shut out all persons from it who have not served a regular apprenticeship. So, in each important town there were "craft guilds" of stone-cutters, plasterers, carpenters, blacksmiths, weavers, and the like, as well as a "merchant guild," composed of those who traded to other places.

The more ambitious boys will not be content with a mere workman's life. They will look forward to a time when they shall have saved up money enough to start in business for themselves. Then they too will become masters, with workmen and apprentices under them; and perhaps, in course of time, if they grow in wealth and wisdom, they may be elected rulers over the city.

Let us leave the shops of the workers and pass on. As we wonder about we find many churches and chapels; and perhaps we come after a while to a great "cathedral" or bishop's church, rearing its lofty roof to the sky. No pains have been spared to make this as grand and imposing as possible; and we gaze upon its great height with awe, and wonder at the marvelously quaint and clever patterns in which the stone is carved.

We leave this also after a time; and then we come to the "belfrey" or town-hall. This is the real center of the life of the city. Here is the strong square tower, like the "donjon" of a castle, where the townsmen may make their last stand in case an enemy succeeds in entering their walls, and they cannot beat him back in their narrow streets.

On top of the tower is the bell, with watchmen always on the lookout to give the signal in case of fire or danger. The bell is also used for more peaceful purposes, as it gives the signal each morning and evening for the workmen all over the city to begin and to quit work; and it also summons the citizens from time to time, to public meetings. Also every night at eight or nine o'clock, it sounds the "curfew" (French couvre feu, "cover fire") as a signal to cover the fire with ashes and cease the day's labors.

Within the tower are dungeons for prisoners, and meeting rooms for the rulers of the city. There also are strong rooms where the city money is kept, together with the city seal. Lastly there is the charter which gives the city its liberties; this is the most precious of all the city possessions.

Even in ordinary times the city presents a bustling, busy appearance. If it is a city which holds a fair once or twice a year, what shall we say of it then? For several weeks at such times the city is one vast store. Strange merchants come from all parts of the land and set up their booths and stalls along the streets, and the city shops are crowded with goods. For miles about the people throng in to buy the things they need.

A FAIR IN THE THIRTEENTH CENTURY.

Above is a picture of the streets of a city during fair-time in the thirteenth century. In the middle of the picture we see a townsman and his wife returning home after making their purchases. Behind them are a knight and his attendant, on horseback, picking their way through the crowd. On the right hand side of the street is the shop of a cloth merchant; and we see the merchant and his wife showing goods to customers, while workmen are unpacking a box in the street. Next door is a tavern, with its sign hung out; and near this we see a cross which some pious person has erected at the street corner. On the left-hand side of the street we see a cripple begging for alms. Back of him is another cloth-merchant's shop; and next to this is a money-changer's table, where a group of people are having money weighed to see that there is no cheating in the payment. Beyond this is an elevated stage, on which a company of tumblers and jugglers are performing, with a crowd of people about them. In the background we see some tall-roofed houses, topped with turrets, and beyond these we can just make out the spire of a church rising to the sky.

This is indeed a busy scene; and it is a picture which we may carry away with us. It well shows the energy and the activity which, during the later Middle Ages, made the towns the starting place for so many important movements.

Life of the Monastery

In the last three chapters we have studied the life of the castle, of the village, and of the town. We must now see what the life of the monastery was like.

In the Middle Ages men thought that storms and lightning, famine and sickness, were signs of the wrath of God, or were the work of evil spirits. The world was a terrible place to them, and the wickedness and misery with which it was filled made them long to escape from it. Also, they felt that God was pleased when they voluntarily led lives of hardship and self-denial, for his sake. So great numbers of men went out into the desert places and became hermits or monks, in order that they might better serve God and save their own souls.

Soon the separate monks drew together and formed monasteries, or groups of monks living in communities, according to certain rules. A famous monk named Benedict drew up a series of rules for his monastery, and these served the purpose so well that they were adopted for many others. In course of time the monasteries of all Western Europe were put under "the Benedictine rule," as it was called.

The dress of the monks was to be of coarse woolen cloth, with a cowl or hood which could be pulled up to protect the head; and about the waist a cord was worn for a girdle. The gown of the Benedictines was usually black, so they were called "black monks." As the centuries went by, new orders were founded, with new rules; but these usually took the rule of St. Benedict and merely changed it to meet new conditions. In this way arose "white monks," and monks of other names.

In addition, orders of "friars" were founded, especially by St. Francis and St. Dominic. These were like the monks in many ways, but lived more in the world, preaching, teaching, and caring for the sick. These were called "black friars," "gray friars," or "white friars," according to the color of their dress.

Besides the orders for men, there were also orders of "nuns" for women. St. Scholastica, the friend of St. Benedict, and St. Clara, the friend of St. Francis, were the founders of two important orders of nuns. In some places in the Middle Ages nunneries became almost as common as monasteries.

Let us try now to see what a Benedictine monastery was like. One of the Benedict’s rules provided that every monastery should be so arranged that everything the monks needed would be in the monastery itself, and there would be no need to wander about outside; "for this," said Benedict, "is not at all good for their souls." Each monastery, therefore, became a settlement complete in itself. It not only had its halls where the monks ate and slept, and its own church; it also had its own mill, its own bake-oven, and its own workshops where the monks made the things they needed.

The better to shut out the world, and to protect the monastery against robbers, the buildings were surrounded by a strong wall. Outside this lay the fields of the monastery, where the monks themselves raised the grain they needed, or which were tilled for them by peasants in the same way that the lands of the lords were tilled. Finally, there was the woodland, where the swine were herded; and the pasture lands, where the cattle and sheep were sent to graze.

The amount of land belonging to a monastery was often quite large. Nobles and kings frequently gave gifts of land, and the monks in return prayed for their souls. Often when the land came into the possession of the monks, it was covered with swamps or forests; but by unwearying labor the swamps were drained and the forests felled; and soon smiling fields appeared where before there was only a wilderness.

A GERMAN MONASTERY.

Above is the picture of a German monastery, at the close of the Middle Ages. There we see the strong wall, surrounded by a ditch, inclosing the buildings, and protecting the monastery from attack. To enter the enclosure we must cross the bridge and present ourselves at the gate. When we have passed this we see to the left stables for cattle and horses, while to the right are gardens of herbs for the cure of the sick. Near by is the monks' graveyard with the graves marked by little crosses.

In the center of the enclosure are workshops, where the monks work at different trades. The tall building with the spires crowned with the figures of saints, is the church, where the monks hold services at regular intervals throughout the day and night.

Adjoining this, in the form of a square, are the buildings in which the monks sleep and eat. This is the "cloister," and is the principal part of the monastery. In southern lands this inner square or cloister was usually surrounded on all sides by a porch or piazza, the roof of which was supported on long rows of pillars; and here the monks might pace to and fro in quiet talk when the duties of worship and labor did not occupy their time.

In addition to these buildings, there are many others which we cannot stop to describe. Some are used to carry on the work of the monastery; some are for the use of the abbot, who is the ruler of the monks; some are hospitals for the sick; and some are guest chambers, where travellers are lodged over night.

In the guest chambers the travellers might sleep undisturbed all the night through. It was not so with the monks. They must begin their worship long before the sun was up. Soon after midnight the bell of the monastery rings, the monks rise from their hard beds, and gather in the church, to recite prayers, read portions of the Bible, and sing psalms. Not less than twelve of the psalms of the Old Testament must be read each night at this service. At daybreak again the bell rings, and once more the monks gather in the church. This is the first of the seven services which are held during the day. The others come at seven o'clock in the morning, at nine o'clock, at noon, at three in the afternoon, at six o'clock, and at bed-time. At each of these there are prayers, reading from the Scriptures, and chanting of psalms. Latin was the only language used in the church services of the West in the Middle Ages; so the Bible was read, the psalms sung, and the prayers recited in this tongue. The services are so arranged that in the course of every week the entire Psalter or psalm book is gone through; then, at the Sunday night service, they begin again.

Besides these services, there are many other things which the monks must do. "Idleness," wrote St. Benedict, "is the enemy of the soul." So it was arranged that at fixed hours during the day the monks should labor with their hands. Some plowed the fields, harrowed them, and planted and harvested the grain. Others worked at various trades in the workshops of the monasteries. If any brother showed too much pride in his work, and put himself above the others because of his skill, he was made to work at something else. The monks must be humble at all times. "A monk," said Benedict, "must always show humility,—not only in his heart, but with his body also. This is so whether he is at work, or at prayer; whether he is in the monastery, in the garden, in the road, or in the fields. Everywhere,—sitting, walking, or standing,—let him always be with head bowed, his looks fixed upon the ground; and let him remember every hour that he is guilty of his sins."

A MONK COPYING BOOKS.

One of the most useful labors which the monks performed was the copying and writing of books. At certain hours of the day, especially on Sundays, the brothers were required by Benedict's rule to read and to study. In the Middle Ages, of course, there were no printing presses, and all books were "manuscript," that is, they were copied a letter at a time by hand. So in each well-regulated monastery there was a writing-room, or "scriptorium," where some of the monks worked copying manuscripts.

The writing was usually done on skins of parchment. These the monks cut to the size of the page, rubbing the surface smooth with pumice stone. Then the margins were marked and the lines ruled with sharp awls. The writing was done with pens made of quills or of reeds, and with ink made of soot mixed with gum and acid.

The greatest care was used in forming each letter, and at the beginning of the chapters a large initial was made. Sometimes these initials were really pictures, beautifully "illuminated" in blue, gold, and crimson. All this required skill and much pains.

"He who does not know how to write," wrote one monk at the end of a manuscript, "imagines that it is no labor; but though only three fingers hold the pen, the whole body grows weary." And another one wrote: "I pray you, good readers who may use this book, do not forget him who copied it. It was a poor brother named Louis, who while he copied the volume (which was brought from a foreign country) endured the cold, and was obliged to finish in the night what he could not write by day."

The monks, by copying books, did a great service to the world, for it was in this way that many valuable works were preserved during the Dark Ages, when violence and ignorance spread, and the love of learning had almost died out.

In other ways, also, the monks helped the cause of learning. At a time when no one else took the trouble, or knew how, to write a history of the things that were going on, the monks in most of the great monasteries wrote "annals" or "chronicles" in which events were each year set down. And at a time when there were no schools except those provided by the Church, the monks taught boys to read and to write, so that there might always be learned men to carry on the work of religion. The education which they gave, and the books which they wrote, were, of course, in Latin, like the services of the Church; for this was the only language of educated men.

The histories which the monks wrote were, no doubt, very poor ones, and the schools were not very good; but they were ever so much better than none at all. Here is what a monk wrote in the "annals" of his monastery, as the history of the year 807; it will show us something about both the histories and the schools:

"807. Grimoald, duke of Beneventum, died; and there was great sickness in the monastery of St. Boniface, so that many of the younger brothers died. The boys of the monastery school beat their teacher and ran away."

That is all we are told. Were the boys just unruly and naughty? Did they rebel at the tasks of school at a time when Charlemagne was waging his mighty wars; and did they long to become knights and warriors instead of priests and monks? Or was it on account of the sickness that they ran away? We cannot tell. That is the way it is with many things in the Middle Ages. Most of what we know about the history of that time we learn from the "chronicles" kept by the monks, and these do not tell us nearly all that we should like to know.

The three most important things which were required of the monks were that they should have no property of their own, that they should not marry, and that they should obey those who were placed over them. "A monk," said Benedict, "should have absolutely nothing, neither a book, nor a tablet, nor a pen." Even the clothes which they wore were the property of the monastery. If any gifts were sent them by their friends or relatives, they must turn them over to the abbot for the use of the monastery as a whole.

The rule of obedience required that a monk, when ordered to do a thing, should do it without delay; and if impossible things were commanded, he must at least make the attempt.

The rule about marrying was equally strict; and in some monasteries it was counted a sin even to look upon a woman.

Other rules forbade the monks to talk at certain times of the day and in their sleeping halls. For fear they might forget themselves at the table, St. Benedict ordered that one of the brethren should always read aloud at meals from some holy book. All were required to live on the simplest and plainest food. The rules, indeed, were so strict, that it was often difficult to enforce them, especially after the monasteries became rich and powerful. Then, although the monks might not have any property of their own, they enjoyed vast riches belonging to the monastery as a whole, and often lived in luxury and idleness. When this happened there was usually a reaction, and new orders arose with stricter and stricter rules. So we have times of zeal and strict enforcement of the rules, followed by periods of decay; and these, in turn, followed by new periods of strictness. This went on to the close of the Middle Ages, when most of the monasteries were done away with.

When any one wished to become a monk, he had first to go through a trial. He must become a "novice" and live in a monastery, under its rules, for a year; then if he was still of the same mind, he took the vows of Poverty, Chastity, and Obedience. "From that day forth," says the rule of St. Benedict, "he shall not be allowed to depart from the monastery, nor to shake from his neck the yoke of the Rule; for, after so long delay, he was at liberty either to receive it or to refuse it."

When the monasteries had become corrupt, some men no doubt became monks in order that they might live in idleness and luxury. But let us think rather of the many men who became monks because they believed that this was the best way to serve God.

Let us think, in closing, of one of the best of the monasteries of the Middle Ages, and let us look at its life through the eyes of a noble young novice. The monastery was in France, and its abbot, St. Bernard, was famous throughout the Christian world, in the twelfth century, for his piety and zeal. Of this monastery the novice writes.

"I watch the monks at their daily services, and at their nightly vigils from midnight to the dawn; and as I hear them singing so holily and unwearyingly, they seem to me more like angels than men. Some of them have been bishops or rulers, or else have been famous for their rank and knowledge; now all are equal, and no one is higher or lower than any other. I see them in the gardens with the hoe, in the meadows with fork and rake, in the forests with the ax. When I remember what they have been, and consider their present condition and work, their poor and ill-made clothes, my heart tells me that they are not the dull and speechless beings they seem, but that their life is hid with Christ in the heavens.

"Farewell! God willing, on the next Sunday after Ascension Day, I too, shall put on the armor of my profession as a monk!"

Triumph of Papacy over Empire

We have seen, in another chapter, how the bishop of Rome became the head of the Western Church, with the title of Pope; and we have seen how Charlemagne restored the position of Emperor as ruler of the West. We must now follow the history of these two great institutions,—the Papacy and the Empire,—and see how they got along together.

After Gregory the Great died, it was long before the Church had a Pope who was so able and good; and after Charlemagne was dead, it was long before there was another Emperor as great as he had been. Charlemagne's empire was divided by his grandsons, as we have seen, into three kingdoms; and though the oldest of them received the title of Emperor, he had little of Charlemagne's power. Afterwards the descendants of Charlemagne grew weaker and weaker, and finally their power came entirely to an end. We have already seen how their rule ceased in France and the power passed to the family of that Count Odo who defended Paris so bravely against the Northmen in the year 886. In Italy and Germany also, at about the same time, the rule of the "Carolingians" ceased, and new rulers arose.

In Germany it was the Saxons, whom Charlemagne had conquered with so much difficulty, who now took the leading part in the government. A new and stronger German kingdom was established, and then of these Saxon kings—Otto I., who was rightly called Otto the Great—gained the rule over Italy also. When this was done, he revived the title of Emperor, which meant something more than King. It meant not only the rule over Italy and Germany, but also a supremacy over all the kings of Western Europe, such as Charlemagne had exercised. This occurred in the year 962. Otto had already been King for twenty-six years, and he ruled for twelve years longer, proving to be as great a ruler as Emperor as he had been as King.

RING SEAL OF OTTO I.

One of the first things he did in Italy was to put the Papacy in a better condition. During the troubled times that had followed the fall of Charlemagne's empire, Italian nobles oppressed teh popes and even attempted to set them up and pull them down at pleasure. The Papacy had no army of its own, and when there was no one who was acknowledged as Emperor there was no one to whom the Pope could turn for aid. When Otto I. revived the Empire, it became his duty to protect the Pope. After many efforts the emperors succeeded in taking from the Italian nobles their power, and soon the position of Pope was higher than it had ever been.

Then the question arose as to what their relation should be towards the emperors.

Just one hundred years after the death of Otto I., a man became Pope who had very decided opinions on this subject. His name was Hildebrand. He was the son of a poor carpenter, and was born in Italy, but he was of German origin. His uncle was the head of a monastery of Rome, and it was there that the boy was brought up and educated. When he became a man, he too became a monk. Circumstances soon led him to France, and there for a while he was a member of the most famous monastery of Europe—the one at Cluny, in Burgundy.

Not only the Papacy, but the whole Church, had fallen into a bad condition at this time. Monks had ceased to obey the rules made for their government, and lived idly and often wickedly. Priests and bishops, instead of giving their attention to the churches which were under their care, spent their time like the nobles of that day, in hunting, in pleasure, and in war.

There were three evils which were especially complained of.

First, priests, bishops, and even popes, often got their offices by purchase instead of being freely elected or appointed; this was called "simony."

Second, the greater part of the clergy had followed the example of the Eastern Church, and married, so breaking the rule of "celibacy," which required that they should not marry. This was especially harmful, because the married clergy sought to provide for their children by giving them lands and other property belonging to the Church.

The third evil was the "investiture" of clergymen by laymen. When a bishop, for example, was chosen, he was given the staff and the ring, which were the signs of his office, by the emperor or king, instead of by an archbishop; and this "investiture" by laymen made the clergy look more to the rulers of the land than to the rulers of the Church.

The monastery of Cluny took the leading part in fighting against these evils. Its abbots joined to it other monasteries, which were purified and reformed, and in this way Cluny became the head of a "congregation" or union of monasteries which numbered many hundreds. Everywhere it raised the cry, "No simony;—celibacy;—and no lay investiture!"

When Hildebrand came to Cluny this movement had been going on for some time, and much good had already been done. But it was through the efforts of Hildebrand himself that the movement was to win its greatest success.

After staying at Cluny for some months, Hildebrand returned to Rome. There for almost a quarter of a century, under five successive popes, he was the chief adviser and helper of the Papacy. Several times the people of Rome wished to make Hildebrand Pope, but he refused. At last, when the fifth of these popes had died, he was forced to submit. In the midst of the funeral services, a cry arose from the clergy and the people:

"Hildebrand is Pope! St. Peter chooses Hildebrand to be Pope!"

When Hildebrand sought again to refuse the office, his voice was drowned in cries:

"It is the will of St. Peter! Hildebrand is Pope!"

So he was obliged at last to submit. Unwillingly, it is said, and with tears in his eyes, he was led to the papal throne. There he was clothed with the scarlet robe, and crowned with the papal crown; then, at length, he was seated in the chair of St. Peter, where so many popes had sat before him. In accordance with the custom, he now took a new name, and as Pope he was always called Gregory VII.

The Emperor at this time was Henry IV., who had been ruler over Germany ever since he was six years old. One of his guardians had let the boy have his own way in everything; so, although he was well meaning, he had grown up without self control, and with many bad habits. Gregory was determined to make the Emperor give up the right of investiture, and also tried to force him to reform his manner of living. Henry, for his part, was just as determined never to give up any right which the emperors had had before him, and complained bitterly of the pride and haughtiness of the Pope.

A quarrel was the result, which lasted for almost fifty years. The question to be settled was not merely the right of investiture. It included also the question whether the Emperor was above the Pope, or the Pope above the Emperor. Charlemagne and Otto I., and other emperors, had often come into Italy to correct popes when they did wrong; and at times they had even set aside evil popes, and named new ones in their place. Gregory now claimed that the Pope was above the Emperor; that the lay power had no rights over the clergy; and that the Pope might even depose an Emperor and free his subjects from the obedience which they owed him. The Pope, he said, had given the Empire to Charlemagne, and what one Pope had given another could take away.

The popes relied, in such struggles, on the power which they possessed to "excommunicate" a person. Excommunication cut the person off from the Church, and no good Christian, thenceforth, might have anything to do with him. They could not live with him, nor do business with him; and if he died unforgiving, his soul was believed to be lost. This was the weapon which Gregory used against the Emperor Henry, when he refused to give up the right of investiture. He excommunicated him, and forbade all people from obeying him as Emperor, or having anything to do with him. Henry's subjects were already dissatisfied with his rule, so they took this occasion to rise in rebellion.

Soon Henry saw that unless he made his peace with the Pope he would lose his whole kingdom. So with his wife and infant son, and only one attendant, he crossed the Alps in the depth of winter. After terrible hardships, he arrived at Canossa, where the Pope was staying, on January 25, 1076. There, for three days, with bare feet and in the dress of a penitent, he was forced to stand in the snow before the gate of the castle. On the fourth day he was admitted to the presence of the Pope; and crying, "Holy Father, spare me!" he threw himself at Gregory's feet. Then the Pope raised him up and forgave him; and after promising that henceforth he would rule in all things as the Pope wished, Henry was allowed to return to Germany.

HENRY IV. AT CANOSSA.

This, however did not end the quarrel. Henry could not forgive the humiliation that had been put upon him. The German people and clergy, too, would not admit the rights which the Pope claimed. Gradually Henry recovered the power which he had lost; and at last he again went to Italy,—this time with an army at his back. All Gregory's enemies now rose up against him, and the Pope was obliged to flee to the Normans in Southern Italy. There the gray-haired old Pope soon died, saying:

"One thing only fills me with hope. I have always loved the law of God, and hated evil. Therefore I die in exile."

Even after the death of Gregory the struggle went on. New popes arose who claimed all the power that Gregory had claimed; and everywhere the monks of Cluny aided the Pope, and opposed the Emperor. Henry's son, too, rebelled against him, and at last, twenty years after the death of Gregory, Henry IV. died broken-hearted and deprived of power.

When once Henry's son had become Emperor, he found that he must continue the struggle, or his power would be nothing. At last it was seen that each side must give up something, so a compromise was agreed to. The Emperor, it was settled, should surrender his claim to give the bishops the ring and the staff. On the other hand, the Pope agreed that the Emperor might control the election of bishops, and bind them to perform the duties which they owed as a result of the lands which they received from him. The whole trouble had arisen from the fact that the bishops were not only officers of the Church, but that they held feudal "benefices" of the Emperor. By a compromise which was agreed to in the year 1122, the Emperor surrendered his claim to give the bishops the ring and the staff. On the other hand, the Pope agreed taht the Emperor might control the election of bishops, and bind them to perform the duties which they owed as a result of the lands which they received from him.

This, however, did not settle the question whether the Pope was above the Emperor or the Emperor above the Pope. On this point there continued to be trouble throughout the Middle Ages.

Decline of the Papal Power

Everybody in the Middle Ages agreed that there must be one head to rule over the Church, and one head, above all kings and princes, to rule over the states of Europe; but they could not settle the relations which these two should bear to each other.

Some said that the power of the Pope in the world was like the soul of a man, and power of the Emperor was like his body; and since the sould was greater than the body, so the Pope must be above the Emperor.

Another argument was founded on the passage in the Bible in which the apostles said to Christ: "Behold, here are two swords;" and Christ answered, "It is enough." By the two swords, it was claimed, was meant the power of the Pope, and the power of the Emperor. Those in favor of the Papacy tried to explain that both the swords were in Peter's hands, and that as Peter was the founder of the Papacy, Christ meant both powers to be under the Pope.

Still another argument was based on the "two great lights" (the sun and the moon) which the Bible tells us God set, teh one to rule the day, and the other the night. The sun, it was said, represented the Pope, and the moon the Emperor, and since the moon shines only by light received from the sun, so, it was argued, the Emperor's power must be drawn entirely from the Pope. It is not surprising that those who favored the Emperor would not accept arguments like these.

When Frederick Barbarossa was Emperor there was another long quarrel; and one of the Pope's officers tried to show that Frederick held the Empire as a "benefice" from the Pope, just as a vassal held his land as a benefice from his lord. This claim raised such an outburst of anger from the Germans, that the Pope was obliged to explain it away.

The last great struggle between the Papacy and Empire came when Frederick II., the grandson of Frederick Barbarossa, was Emperor. Frederick II. ruled not only over Germany and Northern Italy, but over Southern Italy as well. His mother was the heiress of the last of the Norman kings in Italy; and from her Frederick inherited the kingdom of the Two Sicilies. The pope was afraid that the Emperor might try to get Rome also, so a quarrel soon broke out.

Frederick had taken the cross and promised to go on a crusade. When he delayed doing this, the Pope excommunicated him for not going. Frederick at last was ready, and went to the Holy Land. Then the Pope excommunicated him a second time for going without getting the excommunication removed. In the Holy Land Frederick had great trouble with the Pope's friends because he was excommunicated. At last he made a treaty by which he recovered Jerusalem from the Mohammedans, and returned home Then he was excommunicated a third time. It seemed as if there was nothing that he could do that would please the Pope.

For a while peace was made between the Pope and Emperor; but it did not last long. The Papacy could never be content so long as the Emperor ruled over Southern Italy. A new quarrel broke out; and this time it lasted until Frederick's death in the year 1250. After that, the struggle continued until the Papacy was completely victorious, and Frederick's sons and grandson were slain, and Southern Italy was ruled by a king who was not, also, the ruler of Germany.

Thus the Papacy was left completely victorious over the Empire. For nearly a quarter of a century there was then no real Emperor in Germany; and when at last one was chosen he was careful to leave Italy alone. "Italy," said he, "is the den of the lion. I see many tracks leading into it, but there are none coming out." From this time on the Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire comes more and more to be merely the ruler over Germany.

At about the same time the Popes began to make greater claims than ever. One Pope, Boniface VIII., clothed himself in the imperial cloak, and with the scepter in his hand and a crown upon his head, cried: "I am Pope; I am Emperor!" This could not last long. The Empire was gone, but there were now new national governments arising in France, England, and elsewhere, which were conscious of their strength.

SEIZURE OF POPE BONIFACE VIII.

If we go back to the beginning of the Middle Ages, we find that the peoples who were overthrowing the old Roman Empire were bound together in tribes, the members of which were united by ties of kinship, that is, they were all of the same blood. But as time went on, and the different peoples settled down to orderly life, the old tribes were broken up. Then men entered into feudal relationships by becoming the vassals of their lords, and thenceforth the ties which bound them together were those of loyalty and feudal service. As yet there was no feeling of patriotism among them, or of loyalty to a country. After the Crusades the kings gained more power, and began to take from the nobles their feudal rights of raising armies, making war when they pleased, holding courts, and the like. In this way strong national government arose in France, in England, and elsewhere; and it was not long before these also came into conflict with the Papacy.

The most powerful of these new governments was the monarchy of France. Pope Boniface VIII., who had made such great claims for the Papacy, soon got into a quarrel with Philip IV., of that country, about some money matters; and the way he was treated by the servants of the King showed that the old power of the popes was gone, equally with the power of the emperors. Boniface was seized at the little town in Italy where he was staying, was struck in the face with the glove of one of his own nobles, and was kept prisoner for several days. Although he was soon released, the old Pope died in a few weeks,—of shame and anger, it was said.

Nor was this the end of the matter. Within a few months the seat of the Papacy was changed from Rome to Avignon, on the river Rhone. There, for nearly seventy years, the popes remained under the influence of the kings of France. This period is known as the "Babylonian captivity" of the Papacy, in memory of the seventy years' captivity of the Jews at Babylon, which is described in the Old Testament.

PAPAL PALACE AT AVIGNON.

And even when, at last, a Pope removed the Papacy back to Rome, new troubles arose. A great division or "schism" followed, during which there were two popes instead of one; and all the nations of Europe were divided as to whether they should obey the Pope at Rome, or the one at Avignon.

"All our West land," wrote an Englishman named Wiclif, "is with that one Pope or that other; and he that is with that one, hateth the other, with all his. Some men say that here is the Pope at Avignon, for he was well chosen; and some men say that he is yonder at Rome, for he was first chosen."

A council of the Church tried to end the schism; but it only made matters worse by adding a third Pope to the two that already existed. At last, another and greater council was held; and there, after the schism had lasted for nearly forty years, all three popes were set aside, and a new one chosen whom all the nations accepted.

So, at last, the Papacy was re-united and restored to Rome. But it never recovered entirely from its stay at Avignon, and from the Great Schism. The power of the popes was never again as great as it had been before the quarrel between Boniface VIII. and the King of France. The Papacy had triumphed over the Empire, but it could not triumph over the national kingdoms.

"We look on Pope and Emperor alike," said a writer in the fifteenth century, who soon became Pope himself, "as names in a story, or heads in a picture."

Thenceforth there was no ruler whom all Christendom would obey. The end of the Middle Ages, indeed, was fast approaching. The modern times, when each nation obeys its own kings, and follows only its own interests, were close at hand.

First Period of the Hundred Years' War

One of the signs that the Middle Ages were coming to an end was the long war between France and England. It lasted altogether from 1337 to 1453, and is called the Hundred Years' War.

When William the Conqueror became King of England, he did not cease to be Duke of Normandy. Indeed, as time went on, the power of the English kings in France increased, until William's successors ruled all the western part of that land, from north of the river Seine to the Pyrenees Mountains, and from the Bay of Biscay almost to the river Rhone. They held all this territory as fiefs of the kings of France; but the fact that they were also independent kings of England made them stronger than their overlords. This led to frequent wars, until, at last, the English kings had lost all their land in France except Aquitaine, in the southwest.

These, however, were merely feudal wars between the rulers of the two countries. They did not much concern the people of either France or England; for in neither country had the people come to feel that they were a nation and that one of their first duties was to love their own country and support their own government. In Aquitaine, indeed, the people scarcely felt that they were French at all, and rather preferred the kings of England to the French kings who dwelt at Paris.

During the Hundred Years' War, all this was to change. In fighting with one another, in this long struggle, the people of France and of England came gradually to feel that they were  French and English. The people of Aquitaine began to feel that they were of nearer kin to those who dwelt about Paris than they were to the English, and began to feel love for France and hatred for England. It was the same, too, with the English. In fighting the French, the descendants of the old Saxons, and of the conquering Normans, came to feel that they were all alike Englishmen. So, although the long war brought terrible suffering and misery, it brought also some good to both countries. In each patriotism was born, and in each the people became a nation.

There were many things which led up to the war, but the chief was the fact that the French King, who died in 1328, left no son to succeed him. The principal claimants for the throne were his cousin, Philip, who was Duke of Valois, and his nephew, Edward III. of England. The French nobles decided in favor of Duke Philip, and he became King as Philip VI. Edward did not like this decision, but he accepted it for a time. After nine years, however, war broke out because of other reasons; and then Edward claimed the throne as his of right.

During the first eight years, neither country gained any great advantage, though the English won an important battle at sea. In the ninth year the English gained their first great victory on land.

ARCHERS SHOOTING AT MARK.

This battle took place at Crecy, in the northernmost part of France, about one hundred miles from Paris. The French army was twice as large as the English, and was made up mainly of mounted knights, armed with lance and sword, and clad in the heavy armor of the Middle Ages. The English army was made up chiefly of archers on foot. Everywhere in England boys were trained from the time they were six or seven years old at shooting with the bow and arrow. As they grew older, stronger and stronger bows were given them, until at last they could use the great longbows of their fathers. The greatest care was taken in this teaching; and on holidays grown men as well as boys might be seen practicing shooting at marks on the village commons. In this way the English became the best archers in Europe, and so powerful were their bows that the arrows would often pierce armor or slay a knight's horse at a hundred yards.

So the advantage was not so great on the side of the French as it seemed. Besides, King Edward placed his men very skillfully, while the French managed the battle very badly. Edward placed his archers at the top of a sloping hillside, with the knights behind. In command of the first line he placed his fifteen-year-old son, the Black Prince, while the King himself took a position on a little windmill-hill in the rear.

A CROSSBOWMAN

The French had a large number of crossbowmen with them. Although the crossbowmen could not shoot so rapidly as the English archers, because the crossbow had to be rested on the ground, and wound up after each shot, they could shoot to a greater distance and with more force. Unluckily, a shower wet the strings of the crossbows, while the English were able to protect their bows and keep the strings dry. So when the French King ordered the crossbowmen to advance, they went unwillingly; and when the English archers, each stepping forward one pace, let fly their arrows, the crossbowmen turned and fled.

At this King Philip was very angry, for he thought they fled through cowardice; so he cried:

"Slay me those rascals!"

At this command, the French knights rode among the crossbowmen and killed many of their own men. All this while the English arrows were falling in showers about them, and many horses, and knights, as well as archers, were slain.

Then the French horsemen charged the English lines. Some of the knights about the young Prince now began to fear for him, and sent to the King, urging him to send assistance.

"Is my son dead," asked the King, "or so wounded that he cannot help himself?"

"No, sire, please God," answered the messenger, "but he is in a hard passage of arms, and much needs your help."

"Then," said King Edward, "return to them that sent you, and tell them not to send to me again so long as my son lives. I command them to let the boy win his spurs. If God be pleased, I will that the honor of this day shall be his."

On the French side was the blind old King of Bohemia. When the fighting began he said to those about him:

"You are my vassals and friends. I pray you to lead me so far into the battle that I may strike at least one good stroke with my sword!"

KNIGHTS IN BATTLE.

Two of his attendants then placed themselves on either side of him; and, tying the bridles of their horses together, they rode into the fight. There the old blind King fought valiantly; and when the battle was over, the bodies of all three were found, with their horses still tied together.

The victory of the English was complete. Thousands of the French were slain, and King Philip himself was obliged to flee to escape capture. But though the Black Prince won his spurs right nobly, the chief credit for the victory was due to the English archers.

It was some years after this before the next great battle was fought. This was due, in part, to a terrible sickness which came upon all Western Europe soon after the battle of Crecy. It was called the Black Death, and arose in Asia, where cholera and the plague often arise. Whole villages were attacked at the same time; and for two years the disease raged everywhere. When, at last, it died out, half of the population of England was gone; and France had suffered almost as terribly.

Ten years after the battle of Crecy (in 1356) the war broke out anew. The Black Prince, at the head of an army, set out from Aquitaine and marched northward into the heart of France. Soon, however, he found his retreat cut off near the city of Poitiers by the French King John (who had succeeded his father Philip), with an army six or seven times the size of the English force. The situation of the English was so bad that the Prince offered to give up all the prisoners, castles, and towns which they had taken during this expedition, and to promise not to fight against France again for seven years, if the French King would grant them a free retreat. But King John felt so sure of victory that he refused these terms. Then the battle began.

Just as at Crecy, the English were placed on a little hill; and again they depended chiefly on their archers. From behind a thick hedge they shot their arrows in clouds as the French advanced. Soon all was uproar and confusion. Many of the French lay wounded or slain; and many of their horses, feeling the sting of the arrow-heads, reared wildly, flung their riders, and dashed to the rear. When once dismounted, a knight could not mount to the saddle again without assistance, so heavy was the armor which was then worn.

BATTLE OF POITIERS

In a short time this division of the French was overthrown. Then a second, and finally a third division met the same fate. To the war-cries, "Mountjoy! Saint Denis!" the English replied with shouts of "St. George! Guyenne!" The ringing of spear-heads upon shields, the noise of breaking lances, the clash of hostile swords and battle-axes, were soon added to the rattle of English arrows upon French breastplates and helmets. At last the French were all overthrown, or turned in flight, except in one quarter of the field. There King John, with a few of his bravest knights, fought valiantly on foot. As he swung his heavy battle-ax, now at this foe and now at that, his son Philip,—a brave boy of thirteen years,—cried unceasingly:

"Father, guard right! Father, guard left!"

Finally even the King was obliged to surrender; and he and his son Philip were taken prisoners to the tent of the English Prince. There they were courteously entertained, the Prince waiting upon them at table with his own hands. But for several years they remained captives, awaiting the ransom which the English demanded.

Middle Period of the Struggle

The battle of Poitiers was a sad blow indeed to France. Many hundreds of her noblest knights were there slain; and all sorts of disorders arose during the captivity of her King. The peasants rose in rebellion against their masters, and civil war broke out. And when, after four years of comfortable captivity, King John was set free, he was obliged to pay a heavy ransom and sign a peace in which he surrendered to the English, in full right, all of Aquitaine.

Soon after this "Good King John," as he was called, died, leaving his kingdom in great disorder He was a good knight and brave man; but he was a poor general and a weak king.

His eldest son, Charles, who was styled Charles V., or Charles the Wise, now became King. He was very different from his father; and though he was not nearly so knightly a warrior, he proved a much better king. He improved the government and the army; and when the war with the English began again, he at once began to be successful.

The Black Prince was now broken in health, and died in the year 1376; the old English King, Edward III., died the next year; and then Richard II., the twelve-year-old son of the Black Prince, became King of England. Troubles, too, broke out in England, so the English were not able to carry on the war as vigorously as they had done before.

KNIGHT ATTACKING FOOT SOLDIERS.

At the same time the French King found a general named Du Guesclin, who proved to be one of the best commanders that the Middle Ages produced.

Du Guesclin was a poor country noble, from Western France. As a boy he was so ugly and ill favored that his parents scarcely loved him, and his chief pleasure was in fighting the village lads. At sixteen years of age he ran away from home, and lived for a time with an uncle. He longed to take part in tournaments and perform feats of arms, but he was too poor to provide himself with a horse and armor. But one day, when a tournament was being held at his native town, he returned there, borrowed a horse and armor, and overthrew fifteen knights, one after the other. When he raised the visor of his helmet, and his father saw who the unknown warrior was, there was a happy reunion.

DU GUESCLIN

In the earlier stages of the Hundred Years’ War, Du Guesclin had taken some part, but had not been present at either Crecy or at Poitiers. He had made a name form himself, however, and was recognized as a man of importance.

When Charles V. renewed the war with the English, he chose Du Guesclin to be "Constable of France," that is, commander-in-chief of the French armies. At first Du Guesclin asked the King to excuse him from this office, saying that he was but a poor man, and not of high birth; and how could he expect the great nobles of France to obey him? But the King answered him, saying:

"Sir, do not excuse yourself thus; for there is no nobleman in the kingdom, even among my own kin, who would not obey you. And if any should be so hardy as to do otherwise, he would surely hear from me. So take the office freely, I beseech you."

So Du Guesclin became Constable, and from that time the fortunes of France began to improve.

One trouble with the French had been that they scorned the "base-born" foot-soldiers, and thought that war should be the business of the heavy-armed knights alone; and another was that the knights thought it disgraceful to retreat, even when they knew they could not win. With Du Geusclin, all this was different. He was willing to use peasants and townsmen if their way of fighting was better than that of the nobles; and he did not think it beneath him to retreat, when he saw that he could not win a victory.

So, by caution and good sense, and the support of wise King Charles, he won victory after victory; and though no great battles were fought, almost all of the English possessions in France came once more into the hands of the French.

But here, for a time, the French successes stopped. Du Guesclin died, in 1380, and soon after him King Charles V. Now it was the French who had a boy king, and when this King, Charles VI., grew to be a man, he became insane. His uncles quarreled with one another and with the King's brother for the government. Soon the quarrel led to murder, and the murder to civil war; and again France was thrown into all the misery and disorder from which it had been rescued by Charles the Wise.

In England, about this time, King Henry V., came to the throne. He was a young and warlike prince; and he wished, through a renewal of the war, to win glory for himself. Besides, he remembered the old claim of Edward III., to the French crown; and he thought that now, when the French nobles were fighting among themselves, was a fine opportunity to make that claim good.

So, in the year 1415, King Henry landed with an army in France, and began again the old, old struggle. And again, after a few months, the English found their retreat cut off near a little village called Agincourt, by a much larger army of the French. But King Henry remembered the victories of Crecy and Poitiers, and did not despair. When one of his knights wished that the thousands of warriors then lying idle in England were only there, King Henry exclaimed:

"I would not have a single man more. If God gives us the victory, it will be plain that we owe it to His grace. If not, the fewer we are, the less loss to England."

HALBERDS, BILLS, AND PIKES.

At Agincourt there was no sheltering hedge to protect the English archers. To make up for this, King Henry ordered each man to provide himself with tall stakes, sharpened at each end; these they planted slantwise in the ground as a protection against French horsemen. Most of the English force was again made up of archers with the long-bow, while most of the French were knights in full armor. The French, indeed, seemed to have forgotten all that Du Guesclin and Charles V., had taught them. To make matters worse, their knights dismounted and sought to march upon the English position on foot. As the field through which they had to pass was newly plowed and wet with rain, the heavy-armed knights sank knee deep in mud at every step.

For the third time the English victory was complete. Eleven thousand Frenchmen were left dead upon the field, and among the number were more than a hundred great lords and princes.

In after years Englishmen sang of the wonderful victory in these words:

"Agincourt, Agincourt!

Know ye not Agincourt?

When English slew and hurt

All their French foemen?

With our pikes and bills brown

How the French were beat down,

Shot by our bowmen.

"Agincourt, Agincourt!

Know ye not Agincourt?

English of every sort,

High men and low men,

Fought that day wondrous well, as

All our old stories tell us,

Thanks to our bowmen.

"Agincourt, Agincourt!

Know ye not Agincourt?

When our fifth Harry taught

Frenchmen to know men,

And when the day was done

Thousands then fell to one

Good English bowman."

So the middle period of the war, like the first period, ends with a great victory for the English, adn a flood-time of English success.

Joan of Arc and the Close of the War

Even so great a defeat as this could not make the French princes cease their quarrels. Again the leader of one party was murdered by the follower of another; and the followers of the dead prince became so bitterly hostile that they were willing to join the English against the other party. In this way the Burgundians, as the one party was called, entered into a treaty with Henry of England against the Armagnacs, as the other party was called; and it was agreed that Henry should marry Katherine, the daughter of the insane King, and Henry should become King of France when the old King died. No one seemed to care for the rights of the Dauphin (the French King's son) except the Armagnacs; they, of course, were opposed to all that the Burgundians did.

Both Henry V. of England and poor old Charles VI. of France died within two years after this treaty was signed. Henry had married Katharine as agreed; and though their son (Henry VI.) was a mere baby, only nine months old, he now became King of both England and France. In neither country, however, was his reign to be a happy or a peaceful one. In England the little King's relatives fell to quarreling about the government, just as had happened in France; and when he grew up, like his French grandfather he became insane. At the same time the English found their hold upon France relaxing and the land slipping from their grasp.

Only the Armagnacs at first recognized the Dauphin as King; and for seven years after the death of his father he had great difficulty in keeping any part of France from the hands of the English. In the year 1429, however, a great change took place. A young peasant girl, named Joan of Arc, appeared at the King's court in that year, and under her inspiration and guidance the French cause began to gain, and the English and Burgundian to lose ground.

Joan's home was in the far northeastern part of France, and there she had been brought up in the cottage of her father with her brothers and sisters. There she helped to herd the sheep, assisted her mother in household tasks, and learned to spin and to sew. She never learned to read and write, for that was not thought necessary for peasant girls. Joan was a sweet, good girl, and was very religious. Even in her far-off village the people suffered from the evils which the wars brought upon the land, and Joan's heart was moved by the distress which she saw about her. When she was thirteen she began to hear voices of saints and angels,—of Saint Catherine and Saint Margaret, and of the angel Gabriel. When she was eighteen her "voices" told her that she must go into France, aid the Dauphin, and cause him to be crowned king at Rheims, where the kings of France had been crowned before him.

JOAN OF ARC LISTENING TO THE VOICES.

The cause of the Dauphin at this time was at its lowest ebb. The English were besieging the city of Orleans, on the Loire River; and if that was taken all France would be lost. So the first work of Joan must be to raise the siege of Orleans.

With much difficulty she succeeded in reaching the Dauphin. When she was brought into the room where he was, she picked him out from among all, though she had never seen him, and many of the courtiers were more richly dressed than he. After many weeks she succeeded in persuading his councillors that her "voices" were from God, and not the evil one. Then, at last, she was given a suit of armor, and mounted on a white horse, with a sword at her side and a standard in her hand, she rode at the head of the Dauphin's troops to Orleans.

When once Joan had reached that place, she so encouraged the citizens that within eight days the English were forced to raise the siege and retire. It seemed to the French a miracle of God, while the English dreaded and feared her as a witch or sorceress. From this time Joan is called "the Maid of Orleans." Nor did her success stop with the relief of that city. Within a few months, the Dauphin was taken to Rheims, and crowned as true King of France. After this many flocked to his standard who before had taken no part in the war. From that time on the French began to get the advantage of the English; and it was mainly the enthusiasm and faith aroused by the Maid that caused the change.

Joan's work was now almost done. Twice she was wounded while fighting at the head of the King's troops. At last she was taken prisoner by a party of Burgundians, and turned over to the English. By them she was put on trial for heresy and sorcery. She showed much courage and skill before her judges, but she was condemned and sentenced to be burned to death at the stake.

The next day the sentence was carried out. To the last she showed herself brave, kind, and womanly. As the flames mounted about her an Englishman cried out:

"We are lost; we have burned a saint."

Such indeed she was, if a saint was ever made by purity, faith, and noble suffering.

JOAN AT THE CROWNING OF THE FRENCH KING.

The English burned the Maid and threw her ashes in the river Seine; but they could not undo her work. The French continued to gain victory after victory. Soon the old breach between the Armagnacs and Burgundians was healed, and the Burgundians abandoned the English. Then Paris was gained by the French King. Some years later Normandy was conquered, and finally Aquitaine.

In the year 1453, the long, long war came to an end. Of all the wide territories which the English had once possessed in France, they now held only one little town in the north; and the shadows of a civil war—the War of the Roses—were rising in England to prevent them from ever regaining what they had lost. Down to the time of George III. the English kings continued to style themselves kings of France; but this was a mere form. The French now felt themselves to be a nation, and only a national king could rule over them.

That this was so was mainly due to the Maid of Orleans. She was the real savior of France, and remains its greatest national hero.

End of the Middle Ages

Writers of histories are not agreed as to just when the Middle Ages came to an end; but all unite in saying that the change had come by about the year 1500.

If we ask what this change was, the question is easy to answer, though perhaps hard to understand. When men had come to think different thoughts, and live under different institutions, in the Church and in the State, from those we have been describing, then the end of the Middle Ages had come. Feudalism ceased to be a sufficient tie to bind men together in society, and national states arose. Chivalry ceased to be the noble institution its founders had hoped to make of it and became a picturesque mimicry of high sentiment, without real hold on the life of the time. Men came to rely less upon their guilds and communes, their orders and classes, and act more for themselves as individuals. Ignorance, too, became less dense; and as men learned more of the world, and of themselves, superstition became less universal and degrading.

It was such changes as these that mark the close of the Middle Ages and the beginning of a new time. Many of the events of which we have been reading helped to bring on these changes, and put an end to this period of history.

The Crusades did a great deal, by bringing the different peoples of Europe into contact with one another, and broadening their minds. At the same time, the Crusades helped to develop the commerce which kept the nations in touch, and gave them the wealth needed to encourage art and literature.

The long struggle between the Papacy and the Empire, as we have seen, broke down the power of each, and so prepared the way for the rise of new institutions.

The Hundred Years' War between France and England, by making these nations feel that they were  French and English, helped to complete the break-up of the old system, and bring in a time when all Europe was divided into a number of national states, each with its own interests and government, and owing obedience to no emperor or other superior.

The capture of Constantinople by the Turks and the fall of the Eastern Empire was another event which helped bring the Middle Ages to a close.

After the Crusades had come to an end, a new branch of Turks, called the Ottomans, had risen to power. In the course of a century and a half, they made themselves masters of all Asia Minor and Palestine, and of a good part of Southeastern Europe as well. At Adrianople, where the Goths had won their first great victory, they fixed their capital; and their "horse-tail" standards were thence borne far up the valley of the Danube, into Hungary and Austria.

For many years the walls of Constantinople proved too much for them, and there the Eastern Empire prolonged its feeble existence. When the Hundred Years' War was just coming to an end, a new sultan came to the throne whose entire energies were devoted to the capture of that city and the making it his capital. In 1453 the attack began. Great cannons,—the largest the world had ever seen,—now thundered away, along with catapults, battering-rams, and other engines which the Middle Ages used.

After fifty-three days, the city was taken. Then the Christian churches became Mohammedan mosques; and the standard of the Sultans floated where for a thousand years had hung the banner of the Eastern Emperors. In this way was established the Ottoman Empire, the continued existence of which causes some of the hardest problems which the Christian nations have to face to-day.

To escape from Turkish rule, great numbers of Greek scholars fled from Constantinople to the West, bringing with them their knowledge of the Greek tongue, and great quantities of Greek manuscripts.

All these events which we have been recounting helped to bring the Middle Ages to a close; but other things helped even more than these. One was what we call the Revival of Learning; another was certain great inventions which the later Middle Ages produced; and a third was the discovery of new lands and new peoples across the seas.

Although the monks had done much for learning during the Middle Ages, nevertheless a great deal of the knowledge and literature of the olden time had disappeared. Many of the most famous works of the old Greek and Latin authors had been lost sight of altogether. Others, also, which the monks had, they did not understand; and still others they almost feared to read because they were full of the stories of the old gods, whom the Middle Ages regarded as evil spirits. The Latin, too, which the monks spoke and wrote was very incorrect and corrupt; and practically no one outside of the Eastern Empire understood Greek at all.

About the beginning of the fourteenth century, however, men began to take a new interest in the old literature. They began to write more correct Latin. They searched for forgotten manuscripts which might contain some of the lost works. They corrected and edited the manuscripts they had, and began to make dictionaries and grammars to aid them in understanding them. Soon some began even to learn Greek, and collect Greek manuscripts as well as Latin ones.

Above all, scholars tried to put themselves back in the place of the old Greeks and Romans, and look at the world through their eyes, and not through the eyes of the medieval monks.

The result was that many things began to seem different to them. They no longer feared this world as the monks had done. They took delight in its beauty, and no longer thought that everything which was pleasant was therefore sinful. And because they believed that man’s life as a human being was good in itself, the new scholars were called "humanists," and their studies and ways of thinking "humanism."

This change in the way of thinking came only gradually, and it was a hundred years before humanism began to spread from Italy, where it first arose, to the countries north of the Alps. But then the Germans contributed something which helped to spread humanism more rapidly. This was the invention of printing.

The making of books, by forming each letter in each copy, separately with the pen, was so slow that men had long hunted for some means of lessening the labor. They found that by engraving the page upon a block of wood, and printing from this, they could make a hundred copies almost as easily as one, so in the fifteenth century "block books," as they were called, began to be made. But the trouble with these was that every page had to be engraved separately, and this proved such a task that only books of a very few pages were made in this way.

Then it occurred to John Gutenberg, of Strasburg, that if he made the letters separate, he could use the same ones over and over again to form new pages; and if instead of cutting the letters themselves, he made moulds  to produce them, then he could cast his type in metal (which would be better than wood anyway), and from the one mould he could make as many of each letter as was necessary.

In this way printing from movable metal types was invented by Gutenberg, about the year 1450. It seems like a very small thing when we tell about it, but it was one of the most important inventions that the world has ever seen.

The first book that was printed was the Bible, in Latin. Soon presses and printing offices were established all over Western Europe, printing Bibles and other books, and selling them so cheaply that almost every one could now afford to buy. The invention of printing thus served to spread humanism and the knowledge of the Bible throughout Europe, and these two together brought on the Reformation and helped put an end entirely to the Middle Ages.

EARLY PRINTERS

The introduction of gunpowder was also, in the end, of very great importance.

Nobody knows just when or by whom gunpowder was invented; but it was used to make rockets and fireworks in India and China long before it was known in Europe. In the fourteenth century the Moors of Spain introduced the use of cannon into Europe; and by the date of the battle of Crecy (1346) cannon were to be found in most of the western countries. These, however, were usually small, and were often composed merely of iron staves roughly hooped together, or even of wood or of leather; and the powder used was weak and without sufficient force to throw the ball any great distance.

It was not gunpowder, as is sometimes said, that first overthrew the armored knight of the Middle Ages; it was the archers who did this, and the foot-soldiers armed with long pikes for thrusting, and with halberds hooked at the end by means of which the knight might be pulled from his horse.

As the cannon were improved, however, they became of great service in breaking down the walls of feudal castles, and of hostile cities; and so, in the end, they helped greatly to change the mode of making war. But it was not until the Middle Ages had quite come to an end that gunpowder had become so useful in small hand guns that the old long-bows and crossbows completely disappeared.

EARLY CANNON

Two other inventions that came into use in the Middle Ages were also of great importance in bringing in the new time. These were the compass, or magnetic needle, and the "cross-staff" used by sailors for finding latitude.

Like gunpowder, the compass came from Asia, where it was used by the Chinese long before the birth of Christ. It was introduced into Europe as a guide to sailors about the beginning of the fourteenth century. It enabled them to steer steadily in whatever direction they wished, even when far from land; but it could not tell them where they were at any given time.

The cross-staff did this in part, for it could tell them their latitude by measuring the height of the north star above the horizon. The "astrolabe" was another instrument which was used for the same purpose. These were very ancient instruments, but they did not begin to be used by sailors until some time in the fifteenth century. Even then the sailor had to trust to guess-work for his longitude, for the watches and chronometers by which ship captains now measure longitude were not yet invented; and sailing maps were only beginning to be made.

THE CROSS-STAFF.

Yet, in spite of these disadvantages, and in spite of the smallness of the vessels, and the terrors of unknown seas, great progress was made in the discovery of new lands before the close of our period. The commerce of the Italian cities made their citizens skillful sailors, voyaging up and down the Mediterranean and even beyond the straits of Gibraltar. The Normans and certain of the Spanish peoples, early sailed boldly into the northern and western seas.

But it was the little state of Portugal that led the way in the discovery of new worlds. A prince of that state gave so much attention to discovery in the first half of the fifteenth century, that he was called Prince Henry "the Navigator." Under his wise direction Portuguese seamen began working their way south along the coast of Africa. In this way the Madeira and Canary Islands, the Azores, and Cape Verde were discovered one after another before 1450; and after Prince Henry’s death, a Portuguese captain succeeded in 1486 in reaching the southernmost point of Africa, to which the Portuguese King gave the name "Cape of Good Hope." Twelve years later, in 1498, Vasco da Gama realized this hope by reaching the East Indies, and so opened up communication by sea with India.

Six years before, as we all know, Columbus while trying to reach the same region by sailing westward, discovered the new world of America,—though he died thinking that he had reached Asia and the East Indies.

So we come to a time when Europe had emerged from the darkness of the Middle Ages, and was preparing, first, to make a reformation in religion, and then to go forth and found new Europes across the seas. But the details of these events belong to the story of Modern Times, and not to the Middle Ages. To complete our story we need only tell what was the condition of each of the principal states of Europe at this time, and point out the part it was to play in the new period.

Germany was the country which was to take the lead in bringing about the Reformation in religion. Its people were more serious-minded than the peoples south of the Alps, and felt more keenly the evils in the Church; above all, it was there that the great reformer, Martin Luther, was born. But Germany was split up into a great many little states, each with its own prince or king, and each practically independent of the Emperor. So there was no national strength in Germany; and when the movement began to establish colonies and take possession of the New World, Germany took no part.

Italy also was too much split up among rival cities and warring principalities to take any part in colonization; and the Eastern nations, such as Russia and Poland, were not used to the sea. Sweden for a while became very powerful in the seventeenth century, owing to the ability of its great King, Gustavus Adolphus, and it established colonies on the river Delaware. The Dutch also for a time became a great seafaring people, and established colonies on the banks of the Hudson. Both these countries, however, soon lost their strength, and their colonies, for the most part, passed into the hands of larger and stronger nations.

It was the nations of Western Europe,—England, France, and Spain,—that were to take the lead in building up new Europes across the water.

England at the close of the Middle Ages was just coming out of the long War of the Roses which was mentioned in the last chapter. That war had brought Henry VII., the grandfather of the great Queen Elizabeth, to the throne; and under him England was strong, united and prosperous. Thus when the Venetian, John Cabot, asked King Henry for ships to sail westward to the lands newly found by Columbus, his request was granted. In that way the beginning was made of a claim which, after many years, gave the English the possession of all the eastern part of North America.

France also was strong, united, and prosperous at the close of the Middle Ages. Through several centuries the kings had been busy breaking down the influence of the great nobles, and gathering the power into their own hands. So France was ready to take part in the exploration and settlement of the New World. The result was that the French got Canada and Louisiana, and for a while it seemed as though the whole of the great Mississippi basin was about to pass into their hands.

It was Spain, however, that was to take the chief part in the work of making known the New World to the Old, and in establishing there the first colonies.

From the days when the Moors came into Spain in 711, the Spanish Christians had been occupied for nearly eight hundred years in defending themselves in the mountains against the Mohammedans and in winning back, bit by bit, the land which the Goths had lost. Little by little, new states had there arisen—Castile, Leon, Aragon, and Portugal. Next these states began to unite—Leon with Castile, and then (by the marriage of Isabella to Ferdinand) Castile with Aragon. In the year 1492, the last of the Moors were overcome, and the whole peninsula, except Portugal alone, was united under one king and queen.

Thus Spain, too, was made strong, united, and prosperous; and was prepared, with the confidence of victory upon it, to send forth Columbus, Vespucius, De Soto, Cortez, and Magellan, to lay the foundations of the first great colonial empire.

All this was made possible by the Middle Ages. The blending of the old Germans with the peoples of the Roman Empire, that made the Spaniards, the French, and, to a certain extent, the English people. The events of the Middle Ages that shaped their development, and formed the strong national monarchies which alone could colonize the New World. And it was the institutions and ideas, which had been shaped and formed and re-shaped and re-formed in the Middle Ages, that the colonists brought with them from across the sea.

So, in a way, the story of the Middle Ages is a part of our own history. The New World influenced the Old World a very great deal; but it was itself influenced yet more largely by the older one.

Table of Contents

Introduction

The story of the English is the story of our forefathers. Most of us in America, if we try to learn something of our grandfathers, and of their grandfathers before them, find that the story takes us back to some town or county in England. We find ourselves descended from some smith, or weaver, or tailor, or some other honest man of that "tight little isle." And when, in addition, we ask where we got our government, our church organization, and our ways of living, we are again led back by many a path to the island of Great Britain.

So, if we wish truly to know how we  came to be what we are, we must first ask who the English are,—where they came from, what their country is like, and what their history has been. We must see how they began with a very simple life. How, little by little, through many long wars, they changed from heathens to Christians, and built great and beautiful churches. How they have become industrious and energetic, building great ships and railways, warehouses and factories, helping to make the powers of nature bow to the will of man. And how, from living in wild and scattered tribes, they came to have one strong and free government; and how its area spread until now their power is felt in many lands, and millions of men are proud to say that they are of English or British race.

The English began their story at a time when the story of the Romans was coming to a close.

The Romans were great conquerors for some time before the birth of Christ, and they ruled the lands about the Mediterranean Sea, and beyond, for hundreds of years. But at last they were obliged to give up that task. Their empire was broken into many parts, which were taken by barbarous but stronger peoples. That part of it which the Romans knew as the island of Britain was given up when Rome's troubles came thick upon her. The English then came over from the Continent of Europe and took possession. And it is from them that we now give the name "England" to the greater part of the island.

We begin our story first with an account of the island itself, and then of the different peoples who lived there before the English came. Afterward we will trace the story of the English, as they grow from small beginnings to their present great strength.

Britain and the Britons

From the city of Calais, on the northern coast of France, one may look over the water on a clear day and see the white cliffs of Dover, in England. At this point the English Channel is only twenty-one miles wide. But this narrow water has dangerous currents, and often fierce winds sweep over it, so that small ships find it hard to cross. This rough Channel has more than once spoiled the plans of England's enemies, and the English people have many times thanked God for their protecting seas.

Indeed, the British Isles belong more to the sea than to the land. They once formed a peninsula, jutting out from Europe, far into the Atlantic Ocean; and thus they remained for countless ages. But a long struggle for mastery went on between sea and land. It ended at last, ages before our story begins, by the sinking of the land between England and France, and between Scotland and Norway. The rolling, tireless sea poured over these low places, to form the North Sea and the English channel. The Irish Sea and St. George's Channel were formed in the same manner. The result is that we now have the two islands of Great Britain and Ireland, with a number of smaller ones belonging to the same group, instead of that long-ago peninsula of the Continent of Europe.

The sea took the people of these islands for its own. It shut them off from their enemies in the early days of their weakness. It gave them plenty of warm rains, which makes grass and grain grow green and tall. It gave them abundance of fish for food; and when they became stronger as a people, it furnished them broad highways by which they might trade with other nations. So the people of Great Britain have put their trust in the sea, looking to it for their wealth and their strength. The great poet Shakespeare speaks of their land as—

"This fortress built by Nature for herself,

Against infection and the hand of war;

This happy breed of men, this little world,

This precious stone set in the silver sea,

Which serves it in the office of a wall

Or as a moat defensive to a house,

Against the envy of less happy lands."

But Great Britain has many advantages besides the sea, else it would be no better off than many other islands.

First, its climate is excellent, neither very cold in winter nor very warm in summer. The British Isles are as far north as the bleak peninsula of Labrador in North America, yet the summers in England are about as warm as in Northern Minnesota, and their winters are only as cold as in Virginia. The reason is that along the western coasts of Ireland and Scotland runs the warm Gulf Stream.

There are many rivers, some of them broad and deep, up which ships may go for a considerable distance into the land. The chief of these are the Thames, the Severn, the Mersey, and the Clyde. Besides the river mouths, the country has an irregular coast on all sides, forming many sheltered harbors for ships.

Again, there is a goodly amount of very fertile soil, capable of raising nearly every crop that can be grown in any part of the temperate zone. Then, too, there is great wealth of minerals in the depths of the earth—tin in the southwest of England, and coal and iron in the north and west.

Where there are mines there are usually mountains. So it is in Great Britain. Along the western side of the island the country is mountainous, especially in the extreme west, which is called Wales. The loftiest mountain here is Mount Snowdon, which is about 3500 feet high. In the northern part is Scotland, where the mountains are quite rugged. Wales and northern Scotland are the wilder parts of the island, and were the parts which the English were longest in getting into their possession.

Mt. Snowdon in Wales

Great Britain is a goodly country—good for man, and beast. It was good for savage men; it was good for men who were beginning to advance beyond savages; and it is good now for a great and powerful nation.

The earliest people of Great Britain, like those of other parts of the world, were savages, who lived in caves or flimsy huts, and had only the rudest weapons. They are called "stone men," because they clipped stones into shape so as to make rough axes and knives. The later stone men made smooth and polished weapons, similar to the Indian knives and axes which you may see in museums. They had tamed the dog to serve them, and also had oxen, pigs, sheep, and goats.

Stone Implements Found in Britain

But, after all, we know very little of these stone men. They disappeared long before civilized men visited these islands, and their place was taken by a people who used "bronze" weapons, made from a mixture of tin and copper.

Pottery Found in Britain

These men of the "bronze age" were the Britons, and from them the island is still called Britain. Like most Europeans, the Britons were men of "Aryan" speech. The European languages have so many likenesses to one another that scholars think they must all have come from some one original tongue. It is supposed that this language was spoken—long before men began to make records of their deeds—by some one original nation, living somewhere in western Asia or Eastern Europe; and from it the present European nations are all descended. This supposed original people is called Aryan, and those peoples who speak any language descended from theirs are said to be peoples of Aryan speech. The Celts—that is, the Irish, Welsh, Scots, and ancient Gauls—are one branch of the Aryan peoples. Other branches are: the ancient Greeks and Romans; the Teutons (including the Germans and the Dutch); and the Slavs (Russians, Poles, and Servians). In Asia, the Persians and the ancient Hindus also spoke Aryan tongues.

Moving forward, step by step, the Celts settled in western Europe, at some time before history began. The Gauls remained in the country we call France. Others of the Celts, chief among whom were the Britons, moved across the Channel and gave their name to the British Isles.

The Britons were tall and slender, with light complexions and blue eyes. Many of them had red hair. When they went to war they stained their faces and bodies with a bluish dye taken from one of their native herbs. They fought mostly on foot, using swords and spears. They were fierce and bold and ready to resist any invader; but they were not systematic in their fighting, and when steadily attacked would give way. Their bronze weapons and tools were harder and sharper than the stone implements of the earlier peoples. They made small round boats, of basket-work covered with skins. They plowed the land and raised wheat. They could spin and weave; they knew something of mining and metal-working; they could quarry great stones from the hills; and they exchanged their tin for the goods of Gaul and other countries.

Bronze Swords from Britain

Yet the Britons had no cities or towns, but lived in rude villages. Their huts were round, somewhat like Indian wigwams; they were built of sticks and reeds, though sometimes they had stone foundations.

The Britons believed in many gods. These included one who was supreme over all, besides a sun god, a god of thunder, and others. The worship of the Britons included bloody sacrifices of both animals and men. The human sacrifices were usually of criminals, or of captives taken in war; but sometimes innocent persons were sacrificed to their gods. The priests were called Druids, and they were the most learned men among the Britons. They were respected almost as much as the chiefs and kings, and were consulted on all questions of law and religion.

At several places in England there are still standing some peculiar stone structures, erected in these early days. The most famous of these is Stonehenge, near Salisbury. It is a circle of huge stones set on end, with great stones laid crosswise upon them. Smaller circles and ovals are arranged within the great circle. One of the stones at Stonehenge weighs nearly seventy tons. The whole circle stands in the midst of burial places, and it probably had something to do with the worship of these early peoples.

Stonehenge

No one knows how long the Britons were the ruling race in these islands. But whether it was many centuries, or only a few, they did not learn to unite under a single government. They had many chiefs, but none who was recognized throughout the country as supreme.

So, when the Romans made an invasion into their land, no united resistance was possible. The stricter discipline and firmer organization of the Romans won the victory, and Britain was added to the great Empire of Rome.

Topics for Thought and Search

The Romans in Britain

When Christ was born, about nineteen hundred years ago, the Roman Empire was the greatest government in the world.

Through seven centuries of struggle the Romans had slowly increased their strength. In the early days, when Rome stood alone as a small city on the seven hills by the river Tiber, it had more than once been in danger of destruction, from civil war within or from enemies without. But gradually it extended in power, until all Italy was under Rome's rule. Then Sicily was gained; then Spain, Macedonia, Greece, and many other countries—until Roman governors and Roman armies were found in all the lands bordering on the Mediterranean Sea, and Rome was mistress of the civilized world.

Wherever the Roman power went, peace and good order went also, and for many years the Roman Empire remained a blessing to the world. But Rome was not able to stop her conquests. The barbarians of the north—the Germans and the Gauls—threatened her borders, and she defended herself by sending armies into their countries also.

The commander of one of these armies was Julius Caesar—the greatest of Roman generals and also a great statesman. He was in charge of the war against the Gauls. In three years he conquered their whole country, from the Pyrenees Mountains to the English Channel. In the next seven years he succeeded in bringing Gaul so thoroughly under Roman control, and making the Gallic people so well satisfied with their condition, that his province became in later days one of the most civilized and peaceful parts of the Empire.

During his work in Gaul, Caesar twice led an army into Britain. His object was to show to the Britons the Roman power, and to warn them not to help their kinsmen across the Channel.

Caesar's first visit was in the year 55 before Christ. On this occasion the Britons met the Romans at the shore, and tried to prevent their landing. Here a Roman soldier showed the value of Roman training. While the Romans were hesitating to leap into the sea, a standard bearer, who carried the brazen eagle, cried out:

Caesar Landing in Britain

"Follow me, fellow soldiers, unless you will betray the Roman eagle into the hands of the enemy. For my part, I am resolved to do my duty to Caesar and to the commonwealth."

He then leaped from the ship, and the other soldiers followed. The Britons were driven back, after a fierce conflict.

That year Caesar remained only a short time in Britain. Next summer he came again, remained a little longer, and made the Britons promise to pay tribute. He did not conquer any part of Britain, and the tribute was never paid. But he showed the Britons the power of Rome, and they did not afterward interfere with his work in Gaul. When Caesar wrote a history of his wars, a few years later, he gave the Romans their first real knowledge of Britain. From that time on, they looked upon it as a land worth having.

About a hundred years afterward, the Romans began their first conquest of the island. Large armies were sent over, and the conquest was made, little by little, from the south toward the north and west. In about forty years, all that we now know as England was conquered.

Map of Roman Britain

At one time Boadicea, the queen of a tribe in eastern Britain, led the people in a great revolt against the unjust and cruel acts of a Roman governor. For a time the British swept victoriously over the country. They captured and burned the Roman settlement where London now is and killed thousands of the Romans. But the Romans were better organized, and in the end they defeated the queen's army. Boadicea then took poison, and the revolt was over.

Some years later, the Roman governor Agricola came to Britain to finish the conquest. He was a man of energy and courage, and he extended the Roman power from the Humber river northward to the river Clyde. He built a line of forts across the country, to hold back the wild tribes of Picts, in the north. He was a just governor, and his fair treatment caused many of the Britons to like the Roman rule.

Later, the Emperor Hadrian came in person to Britain. While there, he ordered that a continuous earthen wall and ditch should built about eighty miles south of Agricola's forts. These defenses extended right across the island, over hills and valleys, from the river Tyne on the east to the Solway Firth on the west. At the same time, or later, a stone wall was added, which was seventeen feet high, and from six to eight feet thick. A well-paved road ran along the south side, from sea to sea, a distance of seventy-three miles. Seventeen stone forts guarded the wall, with a watch tower every mile. Some parts of the wall and of these forts still remain. For many years, this wall was the northern boundary of the Roman province, and it proved a strong barrier against the warlike Picts.

Part of the Roman Wall

South of the wall the Romans proceeded, as was their custom, to civilize the country. They gave the Britons peace, but the Roman peace was oppressive. Taxes were very heavy. Roman officers were often greedy and cruel. The common people were reduced almost to slavery. The Britons lost their skill in the use of weapons. What was worse, they lost their spirit of independence.

In Britain, as in other provinces of the Roman Empire, the Romans built well-paved roads, in order that they might march their troops rapidly from place to place. There were four principal roads, reaching out from London to all parts of the country. The one best known is called Watling Street, and ran from Dover to London, and then northwest to Chester. These roads were built on a foundation of broken stone, a foot or more deep, with a pavement of hard blocks of stone, fitted together. Some portions of these roads remained in use for more than a thousand years.

The Romans also introduced better methods of agriculture. They brought in new kinds of trees, such as the chestnut, the walnut, and the elm. They introduced new vegetables, such as the radish and the pea, and new animals, among them the rabbit. All of these are now familiar in English country life.

Some towns sprang up in Britain, during the three and a half centuries that Rome ruled the land; and remains are found of handsome country residences called "villas." In the towns and villas, Latin was the recognized language. But in the country districts, away from the roads, the Britons retained their own language and their own customs.

Remains of a Roman Villa

One thing which the Romans brought to the Britons was the Christian religion. In some unknown way, but probably through the influence of humble soldiers, the Christian religion was introduced into Britain. From there it was carried into the still free and barbarous island of Ireland.

The man who carried Christianity to Ireland was Saint Patrick. While still a young man, in Britain, he was taken captive by a roving band and carried into Ireland. There he was kept, for a number of years, as a slave. He was encouraged to escape to Gaul by a dream, in which a voice said: "Thy ship is ready." Later he returned to Ireland, and preached the Gospel there. For more than thirty years he traveled up and down the island, baptizing converts, and establishing churches and monasteries. The Christian church has continued in Ireland without interruption ever since. Once every year, on Saint Patrick's day, even we Americans are reminded of the unselfish life of Ireland's most famous saint.

Britain remained a part of the Roman Empire until about the year 410 after Christ. In the latter part of this time, the power of Rome was steadily growing weaker. Great pestilences came. The population of Italy increased. The armies were composed of barbarians from outside the Empire. Farmers became "serfs," who were obliged to give part of their produce to some one above them. A few great men were rich, but all the rest were poor. Civil war arose, and the Empire was ready to go to pieces.

Then the German barbarians crossed the Danube and the Rhine rivers, which formed the frontiers of the Empire, and began to roam about at pleasure. They came with their families and their goods, and province after province was overrun by them. Even Italy was not free from attack. Twice during the fifth century Rome itself was captured and given up to fire and pillage.

Britain, meanwhile, passed out of Roman hands. About the time that the first attack was made on Italy (410 A.D.) the Roman troops were withdrawn from Britain for use elsewhere, and the inhabitants were notified that they must protect themselves.

The Britons were in despair. They had almost forgotten how to fight, and they were unwilling to unite under one leader. Their old enemies, the Picts and Scots (wild tribes from Scotland and Ireland), began to attack them. The Britons resisted, but at first with little spirit. A last despairing letter, called "The Groans of the Britons," was sent to the chief general of Rome, in which they said:

"The barbarians drive us to the sea; the sea throws us back on the barbarians. Thus two modes of death await us: we are either slain or drowned."

Britain lay as a rich prize, ready to be taken by the strongest. And soon there came, from over the eastern sea, conquering bands of wandering Germans who settled in Britain and made it their own.

Topics for Thought and Search

The Coming of the English

The German tribes that invaded Britain were the Angles, Saxons, and Jutes. They were the ancestors of the English people of today.

For many generations these tribes had dwelt in northern Germany, by the shores of the North Sea and the Baltic. Their ways of living were like those of the other Germans of that time. They cleared little tracts of land in the gloomy forests, on which they raised a few bushels of grain and pastured their scrubby cattle. The men left most of the work to the women, while they engaged in hunting or went to war. These tribes had never been governed by the Romans, so they knew nothing of Roman civilization or the Christian religion. More than any other Germans, perhaps, they loved the sea, a liking which their situation made it easy for them to gratify. They delighted to swoop down on unsuspecting coasts, gather what booty they could, and then take to their ships again before resistance could be formed. A Roman poet sings of the Old English in these words:

Old English Ships

"Foes are they, fierce beyond other foes, and cunning as they are fierce. The sea is their school of war, and the storm is their friend. They are sea-wolves that prey on the pillage of the world!"

So long as the Romans ruled Britain, the English made only pirate raids on that land. But when the Roman troops were withdrawn, an opportunity soon came for them to settle there, and to begin the conquest of the island.

This opportunity arose out of the weakness of the Britons, and the attacks which the barbarous Picts and Scots were making upon them from the north and west. A ruler of the Britons named Vortigern, about the year 449, invited a band of the Old English sea-rovers to assist the Britons against the Picts and Scots. He promised to supply them with provisions during the war, and to give them for their own an island near the mouth of the Thames river.

The bargain was agreed to, and the English came, under the lead, it is said, of two brothers, named Hengist and Horsa—names which mean "the horse" and "the mare." They soon defeated the Picts, and freed the Britons from that danger. Then they quarreled with their employers, on the ground that the provisions furnished them were not sufficient.

Old English Warriors

"Unless more plentiful supplies are brought us," they said, "we will break our agreement with you, and ravage the whole country."

The English were strengthened by the arrival of many shiploads from their home lands, and war with the Britons followed. It lasted for nearly two centuries, and ended in the conquest by the newcomers of all that part of the island ("England," or "Angle-land") which we still call by their name.

We know very little of the details of this struggle. It was a long and bitter conquest, with much fierce and cruel fighting. Little by little, the Britons were driven back towards the west and north. When captured, they were either killed or enslaved. The Roman cities were either destroyed by fire, or were left unoccupied, and fell into ruins. Fresh bands of the English kept coming in, bringing their families, their cattle, and their goods. The Christian religion disappeared from all the eastern and southern parts of the island.

"The priests were everywhere slain before the altars," says Bede, the oldest English historian. "The people were destroyed with fire and sword. Some of the miserable remainder, being taken in the mountains, were butchered in heaps. Some fled beyond the seas. Others led a miserable life among the woods, rocks, and mountains, with scarcely enough food to support life, and expecting every moment to be their last."

After one hundred and fifty years of fighting, the invaders did not hold quite all that the Romans had held. The western coast, from Cornwall in the south to the river Clyde in the north, was still British. All the north was still in the hands of the wild Celtic tribes. But from the Firth of Forth southward, all the eastern, central, and southeastern parts of the island passed from the old owners to the new. The Britons had been replaced by the English. The Jutes settled in the southeastern district, which formed the Kingdom of Kent.

The southern coast was occupied by the Saxons. Those nearest the Jutes formed the kingdom of the South Saxons or "Sussex." Farther west were the West Saxons, with their kingdom of "Wessex." Just north of the Jutes were the East Saxons, in what is called "Essex."

The greater part of the eastern coast, as well as the interior of the country, was in the hands of the Angles, who formed the kingdoms of "East Anglia," "Mercia," and "Northumberland" (the land north of the Humber river).

These seven kingdoms are sometimes spoken of as the "Heptarchy," which means "seven governments."

We may be very sure that the Britons resisted bravely, otherwise the conquest would not have taken so long. In later days, their descendants loved to tell stories of a great King, called Arthur, who led his people to many victories against the English.

As the stories have it, King Arthur was pure in thought and deed, and was without fear. It was said that he was mysteriously cast up by the sea, a new-born babe, to be heir to the kingdom. When he became King he gathered warriors like himself in council, about the famous Round Table, and led them to war. He bore an enchanted sword of victory, which had come to him in a wonderful way. The poet Tennyson makes Arthur say:

"Thou rememberest how

In those old days, one summer noon, an arm

Rose up from out the bosom of the lake,

Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful,

Holding the sword—and how I rowed across

And took it, and have worn it, like a King."

The stories say that King Arthur protected his people from their enemies for many years, and at last was miraculously carried away to the happy island, there to live until he should come again, and again rule Britain. A great number of stories have gathered about the name of Arthur, until the tales of the "Knights of the Round Table" have become as numerous and as famous as the thousand and one tales of the "Arabian Nights."

But in spite of King Arthur—if there really was such a person—the Britons were pushed back into the mountains of the West. There, under the name of the "Welsh" (which was a German word for "strangers"), they maintain themselves to this day. The two races settled down, each in its own region. Sometimes there was war between them, sometimes peace. The English could no longer turn their whole strength against the Welsh, because there was much fighting among the different English kingdoms.

The life of the English, in their new home, was much like what it had been in Germany. They lived in small villages of rude and comfortless huts. About each village lay the land belonging to it, divided into woodland, pasture, and tillable ground. The woodland and pasture were used by all the people in common. The tillable ground was divided into three fields. One-third was used for winter grain, one-third grew spring grain, and the remainder lay fallow—that is, was allowed to rest. Every year a change was made, so that each field lay fallow one year out of every three. The fields were divided into long, narrow strips, and each man held a number of these strips, scattered over the field. No man had all his land in one piece. This system of landholding continued among the English for a thousand years—long after their other customs had seen great changes.

Plowing

The English Accept Christianity

At Rome, one day, a monk named Gregory saw some white boys offered for sale as slaves. Their bodies were fair, their faces beautiful, and their hair soft and fine. Gregory asked whence they came.

"From Britain," was the answer. "There the people are all fair, like these boys."

Then he asked whether they were Christians, and was told that they were still pagans.

"Alas," said he, "what a pity that lads of such fair faces should lack inward grace." He wished next to know the name of their nation.

"They are called Angles," was the reply.

"They should be called angels, not Angles," said Gregory; "for they have angelic faces. What is the name of their king?"

"Aella," was the answer.

"Alleluia," said Gregory, making another pun, "the praise of God the Creator must be sung in those parts."

Map of Saxon Kingdoms

Gregory was so deeply impressed by the sight of these boys that he wished to go as a missionary to the English. But he had no opportunity then to do so. A few years later he became Pope, that is, head of the Church. He was very learned and pious, and did so much to benefit the church that he is called Gregory the Great. He still remembered the English, and soon sent Augustine, a pious monk of Rome, to preach the Gospel to that people.

An Early English Church

Augustine, with forty companions, landed in the English kingdom of Kent in the year 597. The King of Kent had married a Christian princess from Gaul, and was disposed to deal kindly with Augustine. But he received him in the open air, for fear some magic might be used if the meeting were held under a roof. The monks came up in procession, singing, and carrying a silver cross and a picture of Christ.

After listening to the preaching of Augustine, the King said:

"Your words and promises are fair, but they are new to us. I cannot approve of them so far as to forsake the religion which I have so long followed, with the whole English nation. But we will give you favorable entertainment, and we do not forbid you to preach and to gain as many as you can to your religion."

The King gave Augustine and his companions a house to live in, in his capital, Canterbury. He also permitted them to repair an old Christian church there, and to build a monastery. Soon the earnest preaching and holy living of the monks impressed the King and his people, and they became Christians. Thus Canterbury became the oldest of the English churches. When the church was organized a little later for all England, the Archbishop of Canterbury became its head, under the Pope.

Other monks worked as missionaries in different parts of England, but it was nearly a hundred years before all England accepted Christianity. Sometimes, when a kingdom seemed completely converted, a new King would come to the throne who would drive out the Christian priests, destroy the churches, and restore the heathen worship. But the missionaries persevered, and in the end the Christian faith conquered.

At one time the King of Northumberland called his leading men together to discuss the question of accepting Christianity. One of the thegns gave his opinion in these words:

"The life of a man in this world, O King, may be likened to what happens when you are sitting at supper with your thegns, in winter time. A fire is blazing on the hearth, and the hall is warm; but outside the rain and the snow are falling, and the wind is howling. A sparrow comes, and flies through the hall; it enters by one door, and goes out by another. While it is within the hall, it feels not the howling blast; but when the short space of rest is over, it flies out into the storm again, and passes away from our sight. Even so it is with the brief life of man. It appears for a little while; but what precedes it, or what comes after it, we know not at all. Wherefore, if this new teaching can tell us anything of this, let us harken and follow it."

Then the missionary who had come to them, one of Augustine's followers, was allowed to speak. When he was through, the high priest of the pagan religion led the way in destroying the old temples and idols, saying:

"The more diligently I sought after after truth in that worship, the less I found it."

Most of the missionary work in the north of England was done by monks of the old Celtic Christian church, which had existed in Britain before the English came, and which still flourished in Ireland. The Celtic missionaries in England came chiefly from the little island of Iona, off the western coast of Scotland, where there was a famous monastery.

Ruined Cathedral, Island of Iona

But these Celtic Christians had been so long shut off from the rest of Europe that their church was different from the Roman Church in some of its customs. They did not recognize the Pope's authority; they kept Easter at a different time; and their priests shaved their heads in a different fashion.

Head of a Bishop's Staff

So disputes arose between the Roman missionaries and the Celtic missionaries; and to settle the question of which were right, the King of Northumberland called a meeting at Whitby. The Roman missionaries showed that their time of keeping Easter was that used by all the world, except the Irish and the Britons; and that it was approved by the Pope, who was the successor of St. Peter, the chief of the apostles. Then the King asked the Celtic missionaries:

A Celtic Cross

"Is it true that the keys of heaven were given to Peter by our Lord?"

And when they admitted this, the King said:

"If Peter is the doorkeeper, I will never contradict him, but will obey his decrees in all things, lest when I come to the gates of heaven they should not open for me."

From this time forward the English church followed the Roman customs, and after a time the Celtic churches began to do likewise. Thus the Church in the British Isles became united, and was brought into closer connection with the rest of the world.

Soon the need was seen of a better organization of the Church in England. The whole land was divided into two "provinces," over each of which was placed an archbishop, one with his cathedral church at Canterbury, the other at York. Under each archbishop were a number of bishops, each with his cathedral church, and each in charge of a certain district called a "diocese." Each diocese was divided into "parishes," and for each parish there was provided a parish priest, who conducted the services of the parish church and looked after the welfare of its people.

Canterbury Cathedral

Within a century and a half after the coming of Augustine, the English church was one of the best organized and most noted in Christendom. Learning flourished, and missionaries went to the continent to aid in spreading Christianity among the Germans of the old country, who were still heathen.

The most famous of these English missionaries was St. Boniface. He twice made the long journey to Rome; and with the support of the Pope, and of the King of the Franks, who now ruled Gaul, he restored the Gallic church, and organized that of Germany. Everywhere he brought the Church into close dependence upon the Pope. In 755, he went to Frisia, on the borders of the North Sea, and was there slain by the heathen Frisians. Thus he found the crown of martyrdom, which he eagerly sought.

Most of these early missionaries were monks. They lived according to a set of rules drawn up by St. Benedict, a famous Italian monk of the sixth century; and everywhere that they went, they established monasteries.

On joining a monastery, a man took three vows—that he would obey his superiors, that he would never own any property, and that he would never marry. These were called the vows of "poverty," "chastity," and "obedience." Each monastery was defended by a wall, within which were the "cloister," the kitchen, the church, and other buildings. The "cloister" was the covered passageway which inclosed the inner court; about it were the monks' "dormitory" where they slept, and the "refectory" where they ate their meals.

The monks were required to attend religious services at midnight, and seven times during the day, beginning at daybreak. Certain hours of the day were set aside for work with the hands, and others for reading and meditation. The monks dressed in coarse woolen gowns, generally black; and they slept on hard beds, and ate the plainest food. About the monasteries were lands which the monks cultivated. They drained marshes, cleared forests, and improved poor lands, so that the monasteries became models of agriculture for all the country. Besides this, they gave alms to the poor, and sheltered travelers.

The rule of St. Benedict required each monk to give part of his time to study, and so the monks gathered libraries and taught schools. There were no printed books, and some of the monks spent their days in copying "manuscript" books by hand. Whoever wished to become a scholar was obliged to become a monk, or at least to attend a monastery school. Some of the greatest scholars in Europe were found in the English monasteries, and when the emperor Charlemagne wished to establish schools in his kingdom, he called to his court one of these English monks.

The most famous of these monks in England was Bede, to whom we owe much of our knowledge of these times. He entered the monastery of Jarrow, at the mouth of the river Tyne, when he was only nine years old; and he lived there the rest of his life—for over fifty years. He learned all that any schools of that day could teach him. He did his share of the labor of the monastery, but found time also to teach in the school, and to write many books in Latin, which was then the language of educated men. Most of his books were explanations of the Scriptures, and have been lost; but he wrote an Ecclesiastical History of England which has been carefully preserved, and which is now almost the only record we have of the earliest days of English rule.

One of Bede's pupils tells us of the last days of his master's life, when he knew that death must come within a few days. In spite of pain, Bede was cheerful, and continued his literary work. On the last day the boy, who was writing what Bede dictated to him said:

"Most dear master, there is still one chapter wanting. Do you think it troublesome to be asked any more questions?"

Bede answered: "It is no trouble. Take your pen, and write fast."

They worked all morning and half the afternoon. Then Bede stopped to divide among his fellow monks such little things as he possessed. Then he talked with them a while, and bade them farewell. At last the boy said:

"Dear master, there is yet one sentence not written."

He answered: "Write quickly."

Soon the boy said: "The sentence is now written."

Bede replied: "It is well, you have said the truth. It is ended."

"And thus, sitting on the pavement of his little cell, singing, 'Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost,' when he had named the Holy Ghost he breathed his last, and so departed to the heavenly kingdom."

Topics for Thought and Search

King Alfred and the Danes

The union of the Church in England helped bring about a union of all the English kingdoms under a single head. When men had formed the habit of acting together in church matters, they found it easier to act together in matters of government.

Of the seven kingdoms which made up the "Heptarchy," three were larger and stronger than the others. These were Northumberland, Mercia, and Wessex. Each of these tried in turn to secure control over the rest. During the seventh century, the King of Northumberland was recognized as leader. During the eighth century, the King of Mercia held that position. Then, early in the ninth century, the leadership passed to the King of Wessex.

An English King & Woman's Costume

The first of the Wessex kings to hold this overlordship was Egbert, who ruled from 802 to 839. In his early days he was obliged to flee from England to the court of the great Frankish Emperor, Charlemagne. When his fortunes changed, and he returned to his kingdom, he secured more power than any English king before him. The other kingdoms lasted for a time, and had their own kings, but all submitted to Egbert and paid tribute to him. From the reign of King Egbert, then, we may date the union of the English kingdoms.

Perhaps this union would not have continued if it had not been that all parts of England were soon after exposed to a great and lasting danger, through the invasions of the Danes.

The Danes were inhabitants of the northern lands, which now form the kingdoms of Denmark, Norway, and Sweden. They were "Low-Germans," like the English; and like the ancestors of the English they were great pirates and sea-rovers. In the eighth and ninth centuries they began to swarm forth from their northern homes and overrun all western Europe. They were called "Northmen" in France, and "Danes" in England. They called themselves "Vikings," or men of the "wicks" (or inlets) of their home country, from which their swift ships came forth. They plundered the coasts of Germany, France, England, Ireland, and even Italy. They discovered and settled Iceland about the year 875, and Greenland a century later. Soon after, they visited "Vinland," to the west, which we believe was the then unknown continent of America.

A Viking Ship

Remains of a Viking Ship Found in Sweden

In France, after repeated attacks through all the ninth century, the Northmen at last settled down in a large district about the mouth of the river Seine, which was given them by the French King. There they became known as the "Normans," and the name Normandy is still given to that district.

In England, the first attacks of the Danes were made in the year 787, and were mere pirate raids for plunder. Later they came in great armies, and began to make conquests and settle down, as they had done in France. The Danes were still heathen, as the English had been when they first came; so they destroyed and plundered the monasteries and churches, where the most precious things were to be found, and slew or drove out the priests and monks.

Little by little, the Danes overran one English kingdom after another, until all had been taken except Wessex itself.

Here they were met by the young King, Alfred—"the wisest, best, and greatest King that ever reigned in England,"—and their advance was checked and their conquests stopped. When he was very young, Alfred accompanied his father, the West-Saxon King, to Rome. He spent a year or two there, and became a favorite of the Pope. At home, his mother trained her children carefully, and encouraged them to study. One day she said to them:

"Do you see this little book, with its clear black writing, and the beautiful letter at the beginning, printed in red, blue and gold? It shall belong to the one who first learns its songs."

"Mother," said Alfred, "will you really give that beautiful book to me if I learn it first?"

"Yes," was her reply, "I really will."

Alfred then took the book to his teacher, and soon learned to repeat the verses. Thus he not only earned the coveted prize, but also showed the quickness of mind and interest in learning which made him noted in after years.

As Alfred grew older he continued his studies, and took part also in hunting and in outdoor sports. When he grew to manhood, he found sterner work to do, for the Danes were now advancing into Wessex.

Alfred's older brother, Ethelred, was King of Wessex, and Alfred worked loyally to help him. Of the year 871, a historian of that time writes:

"Nine general battles were fought this year south of the Thames, besides which Alfred, the King's brother, and single rulers of shires and king's thegns, oftentimes made attacks on the Danes which are not counted."

In one of these battles, King Ethelred was wounded so badly that he died, and Alfred became king in his place. Alfred ruled for thirty years, from 871 to 901.

During the first seven years that he was King, Alfred's attention was given chiefly to the Danes. Again and again they made peace, and soon broke it. The Danish army spent the winter in fortified camps in the land, but the English, when the summer's fighting was done, scattered to their homes, to protect their families and prepare their crops.

During one such winter, Alfred sought refuge in a small fortified island called Athelney, amid the swamps of Wessex. Afterwards the people told stories of how he, wandering alone in these regions, was sheltered in a herdsman's hut, and scolded by the herdsman's wife for allowing some coarse cakes to burn, which she had told him to watch. An old song represents the woman as saying to the King, whom she did not know:

"Can't you mind the cakes man?

And don't you see them burn?

I'm bound you'll eat them fast enough,

As soon as 'tis the turn."

Another story tells how he went into the Danish camp, in disguise as a minstrel, or wandering singer, in order to get news of their plans; and how the Danes were so pleased with his singing that he had difficulty in getting away again. These stories the people told out of love for Alfred's memory, but we are not sure that the tales are really true.

When the hardships of that winter were over, Alfred gathered his army together and attacked the Danes. He defeated them badly, and drove them into their fortified camp. There he besieged them for fourteen days, and as they were now separated from their ships, and could get no supplies, their King, Guthrum, agreed to make peace.

"And then," says the old chronicle, "the army delivered hostages to King Alfred, with many oaths that they would leave his kingdom, and also promised him that their king should receive baptism. And this they accordingly fulfilled. About three weeks after this, King Guthrum came to him, with some thirty of the most distinguished men of their army, and the king was his godfather at baptism. And he was twelve days with the King; and he greatly honored him and his companions with gifts."

By a revision of this treaty made a few years later, the Danes were to have all the country of England north and west of the Thames river, and of the old Roman road called Watling Street. Only the country south of that line, including London, remained to the English, under the rule of the West-Saxon king, Alfred.

The country which the Danes ruled was known as the "Danelaw." There they settled down and became tillers of the soil, just as the English had done four centuries before this. The Danes were of near kin to the English, both in language and in ways of living. Before many generations had passed, they all became Christians and blended with their English neighbors. But, to this day, northern England shows some features which remind us that once it was ruled by these rude, freedom-loving Danes. For example, we find many hundreds of names of villages and towns there which end in the syllable "-by," as in "Derby." This was the Danish word for "town," and corresponds to the old English "-ton" or "-ham," which we find so frequently on the map of southern England.

After the treaty with Guthrum, Wessex for some time enjoyed peace, and Alfred had opportunity to repair the damages done by war.

Among other things, Alfred fortified and partly rebuilt the city of London. For some time it had been in the hands of the Danes, but it was now freed, and its old inhabitants restored. London was located at the lowest point on the Thames river at which a bridge could be built, or at which merchants could find solid ground for landing goods from their ships. It was already an important place in Roman days, and it was to become the greatest city of England. Long afterward, when ocean commerce developed, its splendid harbor helped to make it the greatest city in the world. But for several centuries after Alfred, its citizens were as much interested in agriculture as in carrying on their small trades, and commerce on a large scale was unknown.

The great trouble with the English army was that it was not a regular army, and the king could not keep it in the field all the year round because the men had to go home to attend to their farming. To remedy this, Alfred divided all the able-bodied men of his kingdom into three groups, one of which was to be always ready for war. After a short time, these would go to their homes, and others would take their places.

Alfred saw also that the English must put their trust in the sea. He had a large number of ships built, after his own pattern, twice as large as those of the Danes. These proved very useful when the Danes renewed their attacks.

Alfred also improved the government. To make it easier to find out what the law was, Alfred collected and revised the old laws of the kingdom. But he did this work modestly, and without reckless change.

"I, Alfred," he wrote, "gathered these laws together, and commanded many of them to be written which our forefathers held, those which seemed to me good. And many of those which seemed to me not good, I rejected, and in otherwise commanded them to be held. For I durst not venture to set down in writing much of my own, for it was unknown to me what of it would please those who should come after us."

Alfred encouraged industry of all kinds. He brought many skilful men to England from foreign countries. He himself could show his gold workers, and other artisans, how to do their work. He invented a method of counting the hours by means of candles, carefully made so that six of them would burn just twenty-four hours. He also invented a lantern, with transparent sides made of horn (for glass was scarce or unknown) to keep drafts away from the candle and make it burn better. His mind was constantly at work, seeking to better the condition of his country.

Gold Jewel of Alfred \(side view\)

\(front view\)

But Alfred thought none of these things could help his people much unless they improved in mind and spirit. He lamented their growing ignorance, through the destruction of the monasteries, with their schools and libraries.

Old English Horn Lantern

"Formerly," said he, "foreigners came to this land in search of wisdom and instruction, but we should now have to get teachers from abroad, if we would have them."

So he invited many learned men to come to his kingdom and help instruct his people.

Alfred thought the greatest need for all was books which people could read—books in English, and not Latin.

"I wondered extremely," he said, "that the good and wise men who were formerly all over England, and had perfectly learned all the books, did not wish to translate them into their own tongue."

He set himself to put into English some of the best books. First came a history of the world, and to this he added his own account of two voyages into the northern seas, made by Danes whom he had invited to England. Then came Bede's History of England, besides a book of religious instruction, and one of stories, by Pope Gregory the Great; and also a book on philosophy, in which Alfred gave many of his own most serious thoughts. All these works are still preserved, but our language has changed so much since Alfred's day that they are now like books in a foreign tongue.

Another great work, prepared under Alfred's direction, was the Old English Chronicle. This is a record of events, year by year, kept by the monks. For the years of Alfred's reign, it gives us most of the knowledge that we have, and it may be that the king himself wrote portions of it. No other European nation has so good a record of its early years, written in its own language.

Alfred died after a reign of nearly thirty years. The English people cherished his memory as "England's Darling," and we now call him "Alfred the Great." He was a brave warrior, a wise lawmaker, a patient teacher, and a watchful guardian of his people. Above all, he was a true and pure man, loving his family and training his children with great care. The secret of his success is told in his own words:

"To sum up all," he said, "it has ever been my desire to live worthily while I was alive, and after my death to leave to those that should come after me my memory in good works."

House of an English Thegn — The lord and his lady are giving alms to the poor

Alfred's work was indeed good, for he saved England from being completely conquered by the Danes. Because he kept his courage at the trying time, his own kingdom was preserved, and the Danes were settled beyond the Thames, there to become almost Englishmen. Because he was wise and patient, he made his kingdom strong, so that his descendants were able, little by little, to regain all that the Danes had taken, and to become again, in their later years, kings of all England.

Topics for Thought and Search

The Normans Conquer England

The descendants of Alfred, for three generations, were wise and strong men, and they succeeded in reuniting all England under one rule.

But after three generations a reckless and foolish King ruled England, called Ethelred the "Rede-less," or "Despiser of Counsel." In his time new bands of Danes invaded the country, in great numbers, intending to conquer the kingdom. Yet the land was so divided, by the jealousies of the great men and the weakness of the King, that Ethelred did not fight them, but paid them money to go elsewhere.

This only stirred up the Danes to renewed attacks, and each time they came the King paid them a still larger sum of money, which he obtained by laying upon the people a tax called "Danegeld." The Danegeld and the ravages of war together brought great poverty upon the land. The people became discontented, and the great men rebellious. Then King Ethelred did a foolish and wicked thing: he treacherously put to death, on a certain day, the Danes who were settled in England, for fear lest they might aid their invading brothers.

This deed caused Sweyn, King of Denmark, to swear a great oath that he would conquer the land and avenge his people. He came to England with a great fleet and a strong army. After a long war, in which the English never fought unitedly under a capable leader, Ethelred fled to Normandy, and his subjects acknowledged Sweyn as King of England (1014).

One month later, Sweyn died, and the Danish army chose his son Canute to succeed him. Then the English restored their old ruler, Ethelred; but he soon died, and after a short war Canute (in 1016) was accepted as King by the whole land.

King Canute

At first Canute was very harsh, banishing or putting to death all the English leaders whom he feared. But when once he was firmly settled in power, he ruled with justice and wisdom, treating Danes and English alike. He sent his army back to Denmark, except a few thousand warriors called the "House-carls," whom he kept as a standing army. He placed Englishmen in the highest places, both in the church and in the state. He restored the good laws of the English, and ruled as if he were himself and Englishman. And though he ruled over Denmark and Norway as well as over England, he usually made his home among his English subjects.

Canute's English Queen, Emma

At one time Canute, like thousands of other Christians, went on a pilgrimage to Rome, to see the Pope and to worship in Saint Peter's church. While he was there he wrote to his subjects in England a friendly letter, in which he said:

"Be it known to all of you, that I have humbly vowed to Almighty God henceforth to rule the kingdoms and the peoples subject to me with justice and mercy, giving just judgments in all matters. I therefore command all sheriffs and magistrates, throughout my whole kingdom, that they use no unjust violence to any man, rich or poor, but that all, high and low, rich or poor, shall enjoy alike impartial law."

Canute was King of England for nearly twenty years (1016-1035), giving to the land peace and good government. After his death his two sons, one after the other, ruled in England, each dying a few years after becoming King. Then (1042) the English chose as King a prince from the old English line, son of Ethelred the Redeless.

This King was so religious that he gained the name Edward "the Confessor." He would have been a good monk, but he made a poor King. He had lived most of his life in Normandy, and did not understand the English people. He loved the Normans, who had improved rapidly since their Viking ancestors settled in France, and were now more cultured than the English. Edward clung to them and listened to their advice, and placed them in high positions in England. But the Normans looked down upon the English, and treated them badly and oppressed them. The English, in turn, were jealous and resentful, and conflicts arose.

Seal of Edward the Confessor

At last, under the lead of their most powerful man, Earl Godwin, the English took up arms and forced the King to dismiss the Normans from their positions. From that time, Earl Godwin was the greatest man in the kingdom, and after his death his son, Harold, rose to equal power.

Edward the Confessor died after a reign of twenty-four years (1042-1066), and was buried in the great church of Westminster, which he had built. Before his death, it is said, he prophesied great trouble for England. He left no son to succeed him, and the Witan, or council of "wise men," chose Earl Harold, son of Godwin, to be King.

Then the trouble which Edward prophesied speedily came upon the land, for William, Duke of Normandy, claimed the crown, and made ready to enforce his claim by war.

This William of Normandy had risen, through difficulties, to a position of great power in France. His father, who was duke before him, died when William was only seven or eight years old, leaving the boy to struggle against rebellions of powerful nobles. While still a child, his guardians were murdered and he was barely rescued by his uncle. Again, while he was a very young man, he was obliged to save himself by a long night ride alone. But, from and early age, William showed warlike power and decision of character beyond his years. When he came to manhood, he speedily subdued all rebellions and brought Normandy completely under his control. More than that, he invaded a neighboring district, in France, and compelled its count to acknowledge his supremacy. He thus became so powerful as to be almost the equal of the King of France himself.

Really, William had no right to the English crown, as Harold had been chosen by the Witan, and had been regularly crowned. The crown belonged to the nation, and the wise men could bestow it as they saw fit. But William declared that Edward had promised the English crown to him; and also that Harold, who had once been shipwrecked on the French coast, and had fallen into William's hands, had sworn a sacred oath to support him in becoming King of England. Therefore, when Edward died, William prepared to invade England, and to drive Harold from his newly won throne.

From Normandy, France, and elsewhere, William gathered warriors for his invasion. The Pope, who had a quarrel with England, blessed the expedition and sent a consecrated banner. After delaying some time for a favorable wind, the expedition set out, and landed without resistance. On leaping from his ship, William stumbled and fell flat upon his face. His followers exclaimed at this bad omen, but William's presence of mind prevented any injurious effect.

"By the splendor of God," he cried, "I hold England in my hands!"

A Norman Ship

Harold, meanwhile, prepared to resist. As the Chronicle  says, he "gathered so great a ship force, and also a land force, as no King here in the land had done before, because it was made known to him that William would come hither and win this land; all as it afterward happened."

But while Harold was guarding the southern coast against the Normans, word was brought to him that the King of Norway had landed in the north of England with an army.

So Harold marched northward, to meet this new foe, leaving the southern coast unguarded. He won a great victory, for he slew the Norwegian king and destroyed his army. Then Harold returned at once to the south—only to learn that William had now crossed the Channel, and had landed on English soil.

Harold's army had lost many of its men. But he took his House-carls, together with such other men as he could gather, and marched toward Hastings. There he fortified a hill called Senlac, and awaited the attack of the Normans.

It was on October 14, 1066, that the decisive battle took place. Harold's men were on foot, and carried light javelins for hurling and swords or battle axes for striking. They were drawn up so that their shields overlapped one another, making a solid wall of defense. William had two kinds of warriors: crossbow men on foot, who were placed at the front; and, behind these, the knights on horseback, wearing iron caps and rude coats of mail, and carrying swords and strong lances.

One of the Norman knights asked that he might strike the first blow. When this was granted, he rode forward, tossing his sword in the air and catching it, and singing gaily an old song about the deeds of the great warrior, Roland. Two Englishmen fell by his hand before he himself was slain.

Then the battle began in earnest, and raged all day until sunset. In spite of their heavy horsemen, the Normans were unable to break the English line. Three horses were killed under William, but he received no injury. Once the cry went forth, "The Duke is down!" and the Normans began to give way. But William tore off his helmet, that they might better see his face, and cried:

"I live, and by God's help shall have the victory!"

At length, a portion of the Norman troops turned to flee, and some of the English, disobeying Harold's orders, left their line to go in pursuit. These English were then easily cut off and destroyed. William took a hint from this, and ordered a pretended flight of all the Normans. Large numbers of the English followed, and the Normans turned and cut them down.

But Harold and his two brothers, together with the House-carls, still stood firm, and swung their battle axes beneath the Golden Dragon banner of Wessex. At last an arrow, shot into the air by William's order, struck Harold in the eye, and he fell. The English then fled—all except the House-carls, who fought on until the last man was destroyed.

Death of Harold

Thus William and his Normans conquered England. No further resistance was possible. Marching slowly toward London, he was acknowledged king by the Witan; and on Christmas Day, in the great church at Westminster, built by Edward, he put on the English crown.

The victory of the Normans was a turning point in English history. Britons, Romans, English, Danes, and Normans,—all made their conquests and left their successive impressions on the life of the island. This however, is the last of the invasions. Never afterward does a foreign foe take possession of English soil. Henceforward, what England is to be is determined not by any outside power, but by her own inhabitants.

Topics for Thought and Search

The Rule of the Normans

For five years, after he became King, William was chiefly occupied in putting down English revolts. The disturbances arose in all parts of the country, but the northern counties were the most obstinate. The city of York repeatedly served as a center of resistance. Terrible punishment was finally inflicted upon that rebellious region. The inhabitants were driven out or put to death. Not a house or building of any kind was left standing. Nothing was spared which could serve as food or shelter for human beings. The entire region was left uninhabited and desolate, and for centuries afterward it bore the mark of the Conqueror's vengeance.

By such a cruel treatment, William at last convinced the English that he was determined to be master of their country. Those who had supported Harold, or had resisted the Normans, he punished by seizing their lands on the ground that they were forfeited. To many of the English he restored their lands, after they had taken an oath to support and serve him. Other forfeited lands were used to reward his followers. Norman lords thus took the place which English thegns and earls had held as landlords, and the common people became subject to the Normans, as they had formerly been to their English masters. The method of landholding which William established was already well known in Normandy, and other countries of western Europe, and is what we know as "feudal tenure."

William I, The Conqueror

Under this system, all the land belonged in theory to the King; but most of it was occupied by great lords, who held it on condition that they assist the King in war. Each lord was bound to furnish a certain number of armed and mounted warriors, in proportion to the size of his estate. To get men with whom to fulfill this obligation, these "tenants-in-chief," as they were called, granted portions of their lands to "sub-tenants," on similar conditions. These in turn sub-let to others; and so it went on, down to the simple peasants (called "villains"), who actually tilled the soil. The name given to an estate which was held on condition of military service was "benefice" or "fief." The fiefholder became the "vassal" or personal dependent to his lord. When he was put in possession of his land, the "vassal" knelt unarmed before his lord, placed both hands in his, and swore to be "his man" (homo, in Latin), and to serve him as a vassal ought to serve his lord. This was called "doing homage." Then the vassal arose, and the lord gave him the kiss of peace, and the vassal swore "fealty,"—that is, fidelity,—to him. Fiefs were generally hereditary, the son of a deceased vassal being permitted to succeed to his father's estates, on condition that he paid a sum of money, did homage, and swore fealty to the lord of the fief.

The lords owed their vassals "protection," while the vassals owed "service" to their lords. This service was partly military service, as mounted knights, for forty days each year. The lord could also call upon his vassals to come to his court, at certain times, and assist him with their counsel and advice. In addition, he might call upon them to serve him on certain occasions by giving him money—which they in turn collected from their villains. These payments were called "aids," and could be collected on three occasions,—when the lord's eldest son was made a knight, when his eldest daughter was married, and to ransom the lord himself, if he should be taken captive.

On the Continent, the feudal system weakened the power of the King because it created a tie between the lords and their tenants which was stronger than the tie which bound them to the King. Thus, if a great lord in France rebelled, his tenants supported him rather than the King, and the whole land was filled with confusion. In England, William took pains to prevent his lords from becoming too powerful. The estates of the great landowners were scattered in different parts of the country, so that no man might be able to collect a great army in one place. He also kept up the old hundred and shire courts, and refused to allow the lords such judicial independence as they enjoyed on the Continent. Above all, he required every landholder to take an oath of allegiance to support the King, before and above his immediate lord. With these changes, William made the feudal system a means by which he could control not only the conquered English, but his Norman barons as well.

Against such control the haughty Normans protested. The result was that no sooner were the English conquered than the Norman barons rebelled. This was the first of a series of revolts which lasted for a hundred years, in which the barons of England sought to win for themselves the powers possessed by the feudal nobles of other lands. In putting down such rebellions, William and his successors could count upon the support of the English people and of the great churchmen; for these saw that the rule of the King, harsh though it might be, was better than the tyranny of the feudal barons. Thus these feudal revolts failed, equally with those of the conquered English.

Under William's stern rule, certain and terrible punishment was the lot of all evil-doers.

"The good order which William established was such," says the Chronicle, "that any man might travel all over the kingdom, with a bosom full of gold, unmolested; and no man durst kill another, no matter how great was the injury which he might have received from him."

Like all the Normans, William was very fond of hunting, and reserved the forests of England for his own enjoyment.

"He made large forests for the deer, and enacted laws that whoever killed a hart or a hind should be blinded. He forbade also the killing of wild boars; and he loved the tall stags as if he were their father."

Hunting the Stag

He even drove whole villages from their homes, and destroyed houses and churches, in order to make a great New Forest for his Hunting.

One deed of William's, which seemed to his subjects an act of oppression, we now see was a wise and statesmanlike act. This was making the "Domesday Survey." He caused commissioners to go throughout the land, and prepare a census of all the lands, with the names of their owners, and their value.

"So very narrowly did he cause the survey to be made," says the writer of the Chronicle, "that there was not a single rood of land, nor—it is shameful to relate that which he thought it no shame to do—was there an ox, or a cow, or a pig passed by, and not set down in the accounts."

When the inquiry was finished, the results were set down in a great book, which still exists, and is called the "Domesday Book,"—perhaps because its entries were like those of the Last Judgment, which spare no man. William's object in taking this survey was to find out what taxes he could levy, and what men he could raise for England's defense in time of war. But the chief value of Domesday Book now is that it gives us so much information concerning the condition of England in that far off time.

A Portion of Domesday Book

Even after his conquest of England, William continued to be Duke of Normandy, and ruled that land as a vassal of the King of France. Quarrels between the French king and his too powerful vassal were frequent, and whenever a rebellion broke out against the Norman power the French King was sure to aid it.

Towards the close of William's life, his eldest son Robert asked to have Normandy as a fief of his own; and when William refused this, Robert joined the French King in making war. This war caused William's death, in 1087. William had captured and burned the city of Mantes, in France, and while he was riding about in the ruined city his horse stumbled in the hot ashes. The King was thrown violently against the pommel of his saddle. He was very fat and was already ill, and this injury was such that he never recovered from it.

Before his death, it is said that he bequeathed Normandy to Robert, and England to his second son, William.

"And what do you give me, father?" cried Henry, the youngest of his sons.

"Five thousand pounds weight of silver out of my treasury."

"But what can I do with silver, if I have no lands?" cried the boy.

"Be patient, my son," said the dying King, "and have trust in the Lord; let thine elders go before thee, and thy time will come."

And so it proved, for although William II. ruled England after his father's death, and Robert ruled Normandy, in the end both England and Normandy came into the hands of their younger brother Henry.

William II. (1087-1100) was called William "Rufus," or "the Red," because of his complexion. He had the bad qualities of his father, without the good traits. He was selfish, cruel, and wicked, and broke all his promises of good government. Even the good Anselm, Archbishop of Canterbury, was so persecuted that he fled from the kingdom, and he did not return until this reign was finished.

The Red King's death was as violent as his life was wicked. He was slain while hunting alone in the New Forest, which his father had made; and his dead body was found by a charcoal burner, with an arrow piercing his heart. Who shot the fatal arrow, and why, no man can tell.

William Rufus left no children, so his younger brother Henry I. (1100-1135) now secured the English crown, and kept it in spite of the claims of his older brother Robert. Henry I. was born in England, spoke English, and had an English wife; moreover, he issued a "charter" in which he promised the people good government. The English, therefore, came to his help when Robert attempted to secure the crown. With an English army, Henry later invaded Normandy, where he defeated Robert and his knights in a great battle. Robert was captured, and spent the rest of his life as a prisoner in an English castle, while Normandy was again united with the English crown. With the exception of this war, Henry's reign was a peaceful one. He ruled for thirty-five years, with such strictness and order that he was called "the Lion of Justice."

King Henry's only son was drowned while returning from Normandy. Henry then planned to leave his crown to his daughter, Matilda. Although England had never had a woman as ruler, he persuaded the barons to swear allegiance to Matilda as their future Queen, and he married her to Geoffrey, Count of Anjou, in France.

After Henry's death, however, Matilda's cousin, Stephen of Blois, seized the crown. The London citizens and a majority of the barons supported him, but the others supported Matilda. The result was a civil war which continued throughout Stephen's reign. The suffering caused by this war was increased by the cruelty of the barons, whom neither party could control.

"The rich men," says the English Chronicle, "filled the land full of castles. They greatly oppressed the wretched people by making them work on these castles, and when the castles were finished they filled them with devils and evil men. Then they took those whom they suspected to have any goods, by night and by day, seizing both men and women, and they put them in prison for their gold and silver, and tortured them with pains unspeakable, for never were any martyrs tormented as these were. I can not, and I may not, tell of all the tortures that they inflicted upon the wretched men of this land; and this state of things lasted the nineteen years that Stephen was King, and ever grew worse and worse."

The Norman Castle of Rochester

This anarchy was ended by Henry II., the son of Matilda and Geoffrey. His father took Normandy for him, from Stephen. Then, upon his father's death, young Henry became Count of Anjou, as well as Duke of Normandy. By marriage with the heiress of the duchy of Aquitaine, he gained another vast territory in France. Then, as a youth of nineteen, he turned to England to conquer the remainder of his mother's inheritance.

Henry of Anjou was more vigorous and skillful than Stephen, so he won from him fortress after fortress. When Stephen's son died, Stephen gave up the struggle. In a treaty made at Wallingford, it was agreed that Stephen should be King for the remainder of his life, but that upon his death the crown should go to Henry of Anjou.

The civil war thus came to an end; and Stephen and Henry joined forces against the barons, and destroyed the castles which had sprung up all over the land. About a year later, in 1154, Stephen died, and the crown of England passed to Matilda's son, Henry II., the first of the "Angevin" or "Plantagenet" line of Kings.

Map of Possessions of Henry II

Henry II. the First Plantagenet King

The Plantagenet Kings of England begin with Henry II., who became King in the year 1153, and end with Richard II. two hundred and forty-five years later. The father of Henry II. was the first to bear this name, and he received it because of his habit of wearing a sprig of the "broom" plant (planta genesta) in his cap.

"Planta Genesta"

Henry II. was already a brilliant and powerful ruler when he became King of England. Later he gained lordship over Scotland, Wales, and Ireland. At their fullest extent, his dominions included most of the British Isles, and about half of France. This made him the most powerful monarch in all Europe.

Henry's personal appearance was striking. He had broad shoulders, a thick neck, a large round head, and a ruddy complexion. He had great physical strength, and was accustomed to riding long and hard. In one day he could make a journey for which others took twice or thrice as long. He surprised both friends and enemies with his rapid movements.

No one worked harder than did King Henry, and throughout his reign of thirty-five years his energy never failed.

Seal of Henry II

In addition, he had an orderly mind, which enabled him to make a plan, and follow it out against all obstacles. He was masterful, and forced men to follow his will. Like all his family, Henry II. was subject to terrible fits of anger, and dark stories were told of a witch ancestress from whom came the taint of blood which twisted into evil the strong passions and high courage of his race. One who knew Henry  said:

"He is a lamb when in good humor; but he is a lion, or worse than a lion, when he is seriously angry. But no one is more gentle to the distressed, more affable to the poor, more overbearing to the proud."

Henry II. began at once to restore order and to reform the government. He systematized the collection of taxes, and he replaced the bad money then in circulation with new silver coins.

He improved the military system in two ways. First, those English barons who did not wish to follow him in his wars in France were permitted to remain at home, but were required to pay a tax called "scutage," or shield money. With this money Henry hired foreign soldiers, who would go where he wished and remain with him as long as necessary. Thus the barons themselves placed in the king's hands a means of keeping them in order. In the second place, King Henry proclaimed a law which required every free man to provide himself with weapons and armor according to his means, and to be ready to serve in the army when needed. The highest class of common freemen were to have each a helmet, a coat of mail, a shield, and a lance. These improvements gave the King a stronger army, and made him independent of the barons.

Henry's greatest work was in reforming the system of law courts. He wished to establish one law for all parts of England, and for all classes of people. There were many courts, some held by the lords on their estates, or manors, and some held by the sheriffs in the shires; but there was no connection among them, and the same kind of offense might be punished more severely in one place than in another. To remedy this evil, the King appointed learned judges, whose duty it was to travel about the country and preside over each shire court, at least once a year. All people then had an opportunity to get justice from the King's own officers; and because the King's justice was good, it was preferred by the people.

A greater reform was that which made the methods by which trials were conducted.

The older models of trial depended largely upon superstition, accident, or force. Since the coming of the Normans, the most important form of trial was "trial by battle," or the duel. The accuser threw down his gauntlet, which was taken up by the person accused; then the judge set a time and place for them to fight the combat. This was really an appeal to the judgment of God, for it was supposed that God would interfere to protect the innocent and reveal the guilty.

Trial by Battle

Other forms of trial were the "ordeals." In the "ordeal by fire" the accused person was required to carry a piece of red-hot iron in his bare hand for a distance of nine feet. His hand was then bandaged by the priest, and if at the end of three days the wound was "clean," he was declared innocent. In the "ordeal by hot water" the hand was plunged into a kettle of boiling water, and then bandaged. In the "ordeal by cold water" the person accused was thrown into running water, with his hands and feet tied together. If he floated he was guilty; if he sank he was innocent, and must be hauled out.

In none of these modes of trial was there any attempt to find out the facts of the case, by hearing testimony and weighing evidence. It was one of the great merits of Henry II. that he brought into general use a reasonable form of trial—that which developed into our "trial by jury." This was first applied to cases concerning land; but later (after 1217), when the Church saw the folly and impiety of the ordeal, trial by jury was used in criminal cases as well.

Another reform made by Henry II. grew into the "grand jury," by which today a body of citizens inquires into crimes and makes "indictments" or accusations against the criminals, so that they may be brought to trial. In the olden days, when powerful protectors sometimes shielded guilty persons, and no individual dared come forward to accuse them, such an accusation, in the name of the community, was necessary.

By these judicial reforms, the administration of justice was made surer, speedier, and more certain. Jury trial also trained the people to take part in the administration of the law, and so fitted them for those larger privileges in the making of the law which were to come to them later on.

In the early part of his reign, Henry's chief counselor was Thomas Becket, his Chancellor, or chief secretary. Becket had received the highest education of the time, by study in the newly founded schools of Oxford, by travel in Italy, and by service in the church. He was known as a man of ability in public affairs. Henry showered riches and favors upon his new Chancellor; and Becket adopted a magnificent style of life, and rivaled the King himself in the splendor of his robes and the number of his servants. This did not displease Henry, so long as Thomas in return rendered him good service.

All went well until the King wished to carry his reforms into the church also. He wished especially to place the members of the clergy under the control of the state courts, so that a churchman who committed a crime might be tried by the same law and suffer the same penalties as other persons. As it was, a churchman was tried in a Church court, and often escaped with very light punishment. Henry saw the evils of this system, and sought to secure a reform by appointing his friend Becket to the highest position in the English church. Thomas protested, saying:

"I warn you that, if such a thing should be, our friendship would soon turn to bitter hate."

But, in spite of this warning, Henry carried out his plan, and made Becket Archbishop of Canterbury.

Becket seemed to change his nature at once. He resigned his office of Chancellor, saying that he must now give all his time to the Church. He continued to wear splendid robes, but under them he wore horsehair garments, and his great banquets to the nobles now became feasts for the poor.

The King was determined to make his law supreme over all persons in the kingdom, while the archbishop was equally determined to keep the independence of the Church. Thus a quarrel arose. Becket soon fled to France, and there for seven years he kept appealing to the Pope and to the King of France for help against King Henry. At last a reconciliation was agreed to, and Becket returned to England. But he soon showed that he had forgotten and forgiven nothing. He punished with the power of the Church all those who had sided against him; even the Archbishop of York, the second great churchman of England, was "excommunicated"—that is, cut off from the fellowship of the Church—because he had, in Becket's absence, performed some acts which, as Becket claimed, only the Archbishop of Canterbury could perform.

Becket as Archbishop of Canterbury

When news of these events reached Henry, in Normandy, he was beside himself with rage.

"What a pack of cowards have I kept about me," he cried, "that not one of them will avenge me against this upstart priest."

Four knights who heard the King took him at his word. They slipped across to England, where they found Becket in his cathedral church at Canterbury.

"Where is the traitor? Where is the archbishop?" they cried.

"Here am I," replied Thomas, "no traitor, but a priest of God."

Angry words followed. The knights demanded that he withdraw his excommunication, and Becket refused, with bitter revelings. Thereupon, they struck him to the ground, and slew him as he lay.

King Henry owed no thanks to his brutal knights for their foul murder. Their deed shocked the whole of Christendom, and did great injury to the King's cause. The people looked upon Becket as a martyr, and for centuries pilgrims streamed to Canterbury to visit Becket's tomb.

For a time Henry was glad to leave his kingdom. He crossed over to Ireland, to receive the submission of its warlike chiefs, and to avoid the Pope's legates. When the first burst of indignation was over, Henry made his peace with the Church. He swore that he was innocent of any part in Becket's murder, and promised to recall his reforms concerning the Church. Later he paid a visit to Canterbury, to do penance for his sin. After walking barefoot, from the city walls to the cathedral, he knelt at the tomb of Saint Thomas, and prayed all night for forgiveness, while the monks of the place passed by and smote with rods his bared back.

Henry's need to be reconciled with the Church was pressing. A great rebellion had broken out at this time among his barons, both in England and in France, because of the overthrow of their feudal privileges. The Kings of France and Scotland, as well as Henry's eldest son, joined in the attack; and even his Queen, Eleanor of Aquitaine, tried to escape in man's clothing to join the rebels.

In spite of this formidable array, the energy of the king, the loyalty of his officials, and the favor of the people enabled him to triumph. On the very day that Henry left Canterbury, after performing his penance at the tomb of Saint Thomas, the king of the Scots was surprised and captured in the north of England. The rebellion ended almost at once. During the remaining fifteen years of his reign Henry was master of his realm, and was able to carry through, without further hindrance, his far-reaching reforms.

These fifteen years were the time of Henry's greatest power, yet they brought him only bitterness of spirit, for his wife and sons were turned against him. For ten years his eldest son, Henry, seized every opportunity to attack his father. Then, when this prince died, his next son, Richard, acted in like manner. Warfare with his sons, and constant watching for conspiracies, changed the King's own character, and he became gloomy and harsh.

At last, in 1189, Richard formed a widespread conspiracy, and with the aid of the King of France suddenly seized some of his father's French territories. Henry II. was now old and ill; he was surrounded by enemies, and was taken by surprise. He was forced to accept a humiliating treaty, and to agree that Richard's allies might transfer their allegiance from himself to Richard. A list was given to him of those who were in the secret league with Richard, and at its head he saw the name of his youngest and favorite son, John.

"He cursed the day on which he was born," says a chronicler, "and pronounced upon his sons the curse of God and of himself, which he would never withdraw."

Sick at heart he took to his bed, and a few days later died, muttering at the last these words:

"Shame, shame, on a conquered King."

Though Henry II. died in despair, his life was not unsuccessful. He was indeed selfish, and harsh, and often he was violent in his deeds. Yet his reign was a great benefit to England, and he deserves to rank among the greatest of her kings. He kept down the rebellious nobles, restored order in the government, and introduced reforms into the administration of justice; and the benefits of his rule have continued to the present day.

Topics for Thought and Search

Richard the Lion-Hearted and the Crusades

The next reign—that of Richard I. (1189-1199)—was for England a quiet one. During most of the ten years of his reign Richard was absent from the land and his officers governed in his name. But the good order which his father had established was such, and the officers trained by him were so able, that King Richard could safely leave England to itself for years at a time.

Richard the Lion-Hearted

Richard cared little for his English dominion. Though he was born there, his youth was spent in Aquitaine. He spoke French and did not speak English. His customs and ideas were those of southern France. In spite of his ambition to rule, he was a warrior and a knight rather than a wise King. As a knight he excelled. A chronicler tells us that he was "tall, well built, and with hair mid-way between red and yellow." He loved to hunt, to sing, to make verses, and to conquer other knights in "tournaments," or friendly battles. His strength and skill in these combats were known and praised throughout France. But he loved also to engage in real warfare, as he showed more than once.

Richard's life and character were in keeping with the ideals of his time, and his training must have been similar to that followed by all noble youths who wished to become knights.

At about seven years of age, a boy of high birth was usually sent away from home to be trained in the castle of some noble lord. There he spent some years in attendance upon the lord and lady of the castle, and was taught how to bear himself politely. When older, he attended his lord, learning to ride, to hunt, and to use the arms of nobility—the shield, the sword, and the lance. When skilled in these things, he became a "squire"; his duty thenceforth was to accompany his lord to the tournament or to battle, to help him put on his armor, to provide him with a fresh lance or a fresh horse in the combat, and in case of need to give him aid. After several years of such service, having proved his skill and his courage, the young squire was ready to become a "knight."

Often the ceremony of conferring "knighthood" was not performed until the squire had "won his spurs" by some heroic deed. The highest ambition of the young man was to be knighted on the field of battle, as a reward for bravery. When that was done the ceremony was simple. Some famous knight would strike the kneeling youth upon the shoulder and say, "I dub thee knight."

The ordinary ceremony was much more elaborate. The first step in this was a bath, signifying purification. Then the squire put on garments of red, white, and black—red, for the blood he must shed in defense of the church; white, for purity of mind; black, in memory of death, which comes to all. Then came "the vigil of arms" in the church, where he watched and prayed all night, either standing or kneeling before the altar, on which lay his sword. At daybreak the priest came, the squire confessed his sins, heard mass, and partook of the holy sacrament. Then perhaps he listened, with the other candidates for knighthood, to a sermon on the proud duties of a knight. Later in the morning he appeared before his lord, or some other well-known knight, and his spurs were fastened on his feet and his sword was girt about him. Then he knelt before his lord, and the latter gave him the "accolade"; that is, he struck the squire a blow upon the neck with his fist, or with the flat of his sword, and said:

"In the name of God, and Saint Michael, and Saint George, I dub thee knight. Be brave and loyal."

After this, the new knight gave an exhibition of his skill in riding and in the use of weapons, and the day ended with feasting and merry-making. As a true knight, he was expected to be loyal to his lord and to the Church, to be just and pure in his life, and to be kind to all in need of his help, especially to defenceless women. The church sought to ennoble warfare by giving religious aims and ceremonies to knighthood. But often the practice of chivalry, or knighthood, fell far below these ideals, and was marked by a narrow caste spirit and a brutal indifference to human suffering.

Richard I. did not have the gentler virtues of a knight, because of the fierce, wild temper of his family. But in courage he was so famed that men called him Richard "the Lion-Hearted" (Cœur de Lion). His love of warfare, his fondness for adventure, and his devotion to the Church were all appealed to by a great movement which occurred in his reign, known as the Third Crusade.

Shield of Richard I

The Crusades were a series of wars between the Christian peoples of western Europe and the Mohammedan peoples of Asia Minor and Syria. The name comes from the Latin word crux  (cross), because of the "cross" of white or red cloth which the Christian soldiers in these wars wore on their mantles. The purpose of the Crusades was to recover Jerusalem and Palestine from the Mohammedans. A century before Richard's time these people, who then possessed the lands where Christ had lived and died, began oppressing the Christian pilgrims who came to visit Jerusalem. At the same time, the Greek Emperor of Constantinople appealed to the Christian knights of the West for aid against the Mohammedan Turks, who were conquering his territories. The Pope took up the cause, and at a great meeting held in France, in the year 1095, he preached a sermon using the knights to make war upon the Mohammedans, and recover the Holy Land. His plea moved his hearers so greatly that they cried out with one accord—

"It is the will of God!"

In this way began the movement toward Asia which we call the First Crusade. The common people would not wait to gather supplies or to form an army, but marched at once—men, women and children—in vast throngs under the lead of a monk called "Peter the Hermit," and other rash leaders. They knew nothing of the country to which they were going, and but little of the road by which it should be reached. They made no provision for fighting the Turks, or to sustain themselves on the way, but trusted to the power of God to overcome the "infidels." The result was that they were destroyed on the way, by Turkish horsemen, or by starvation, and failed to even reach Palestine.

Religious enthusiasm, and a desire for conquest and worldly gain, led many thousand trained and equipped knights to set out in their turn. They were under capable leaders, and their armies were well supplied. They reached Asia, and they fought the Turks with such success that they captured Jerusalem and a portion of Palestine, where they set up a Christian kingdom in the year 1099. Thus the object of the First Crusade was partly accomplished, and the Holy Land was freed from the rule of Mohammedans.

Forty-eight years later occurred the Second Crusade (1147-1149), which was caused by the news that the Turks had conquered part of the kingdom of Jerusalem. Two Kings—Conrad III. of Germany and Louis VII. of France—took part in this Crusade, but very little was accomplished by it.

Two years before Richard became King of England, the Turkish leader Saladin recaptured Jerusalem. This again stirred up the religious zeal of Europe, and many of the great nobles "took the cross"—that is, vowed to engage in a new war against the Turks. Among the first to do this was Richard the Lion-Hearted, and his part in the Third Crusade is the chief interest which we have in his reign.

As soon as Richard was crowned he began preparations for the Crusade. He took the money which his father had left, and in addition sold estates and offices. He even sold the office of Archbishop of York, with the estates belonging to it; and for a large sum of money he released the King of Scotland from the "homage" which Henry II. had compelled him to give.

By these means, Richard gathered a great fleet, with which he set out for the Holy Land, in company with Philip Augustus, the King of France. The two Kings stopped at Messina, where they spend many months, quarrelling with each other, and with the ruler of Sicily. When at last they re-embarked, Richard again turned aside—this time to punish the King of Cyprus for abusing shipwrecked pilgrims.

Meanwhile, in Palestine, the Christians were besieging the city of Acre, and were sorely in need. When Richard at last reached Acre, his fame as a warrior revived the spirit of the Christians. He would ride along before the walls of the city, and defy the Mohammedans. He set up great machines to batter down the walls, and in a short time Acre surrendered. Thus was recovered one of the important cities which the Mohammedans had conquered, but Jerusalem itself was yet to be taken. Soon after this, King Philip returned to France, leaving Richard to carry on the war without his aid. But the quarrels among the leaders continued, and they could not agree on anything. It is said that Richard one day rode up a hill within sight of Jerusalem, but held his shield before his face that he might not look upon the sacred city which he could not rescue. The army was obliged to retreat, and the Holy City was left in the hands of the "infidels."

Armor of the Time of Richard I

Richard was now obliged to return to England; so he made a truce with Saladin for three years, during which time Christians might freely visit Jerusalem. Richard intended to return after the three years had passed, but was never able to do so. When he departed from Syria, he left behind him a great reputation for his bravery.

While he was returning to his kingdom, Richard was compelled by storms to land in the territory of the Duke of Austria. He was almost alone, and the Duke was his personal enemy because of great injuries which Richard had done to him on the Crusade. Richard attempted to pass unknown through his enemy's country; but he was discovered, arrested, and afterward surrendered by the Duke to the German Emperor. The Emperor was also unfriendly, because Richard was allied with the Emperor's enemies in Germany; so he kept the English King a prisoner.

For a time, the place of Richard's confinement was not known to his own people. In after years, men told a story of how his favorite "minstrel," Blondel, wandered through Germany, singing beneath the walls of every castle a song known only to the King and to Blondel himself. At last he was rewarded by hearing the answering verse in Richard's clear voice, and he knew that he had found his master's prison.

The Emperor drove a hard bargain with his prisoner. If he had listened to King Philip of France, and to Richard's brother John, he would never have released the King at all. As it was, he compelled Richard to pay a great ransom, which the English people willingly raised. After fourteen months of captivity, Richard was released. He landed in England after more than four years' absence.

While Richard was absent his brother John had attempted to usurp his crown, and had seized a number of castles. Richard's officers and the people were loyal and the castles had nearly all been recaptured before he arrived. Those that John still held were easily recovered, and the conspiracy ended.

After two months in England, Richard crossed to France to make war on King Philip, who was attacking his territories. The remainder of Richard's life was spent in this petty warfare. The struggle centered about a great castle which Richard built on the border of Normandy, and which he called "Saucy Castle" (Chateau Gaillard).

Richard I's "Saucy Castle"

"I would take that castle," cried Philip, "though its walls were of iron!"

"I would hold it, though its walls were of butter," was Richard's defiant answer.

Richard was now so much in need of money that, when he heard that one of his vassals in southern France had discovered a buried treasure of gold, he demanded it, in accordance with his right as lord. The report was that the treasure was "a great table of gold, surrounded by golden knights," but really it was only a set of golden chessmen. The vassal refused to surrender the treasure, and Richard laid siege to his castle.

As Richard was riding carelessly before the walls one day, he was struck by an arrow shot from the castle by a man who had long waited for that chance. Soon after that, the castle was taken, and the solder who had shot Richard was brought captive before him.

"What have I done to you," asked the dying King, "that you should slay me?"

"You have slain my father and two of my brothers," was the answer. "Torture me as you will, I shall die gladly, since I have slain you."

On hearing this answer, Richard pardoned the man, and with his last breath ordered that he should be set free.

In spite of his great courage, and his skill and energy as a warrior, Richard I. accomplished very little. He is to be remembered chiefly as being the only English King who left his throne in order to go upon a Crusade. For nearly a hundred years after Richard's death, western knights and princes, and some Kings, continued to go to the East, seeking honor, riches, and salvation for their souls, in the Crusades. Then, gradually, they awoke to the greater needs and opportunities which lay close at hand, in their own countries, and the crusading movement came to an end.

Topics for Thought and Search

King John and the Great Charter

Richard's younger brother John, who had caused him so much trouble during his absence on the Crusade, succeeded him as King of England and ruler of the English possessions in France. Another brother, named Geoffrey, who was older than John, had died, leaving a son, Arthur, who was now ten years old. According to the rules which today govern the succession to crowns, Arthur had a better right to the throne than John had; but the nobles of England, acting on Richard's recommendation, chose John, who was a man of full age, in preference to Arthur, who was but a boy.

Long before John's reign was over, every class in the Kingdom had cause to repent that choice. King John proved to be one of the worst rulers that England ever had,—cruel, faithless, lazy, and reckless of everything save his own pleasure. Yet his very wickedness and tyranny, by spurring all classes to resistance, helped much to bring about political liberty, and to make such tyranny impossible for the future.

First, you must know, within five years John lost the greater part of the English possessions in France, including Normandy, the home-land of William the Conqueror.

Ever since the Norman dukes had ruled England, the kings of France had seized every opportunity of stirring up trouble in the English royal family, in order to weaken these powerful vassals of theirs. Philip Augustus now aided young Arthur in attacking the French possessions of his uncle John. Also, John had injured one of his own vassals in Aquitaine, by seizing and carrying off his promised bride, whom John married; and this vassal carried his grievance to King Philip, who was John's overlord in Aquitaine. Philip summoned John to appear before his court, and defend himself; and when John refused, judgment was given against him and he was condemned to lose his possessions in France. The judgment was strictly according to feudal law; and with the law now on his side, King Philip set about conquering John's fiefs.

Money of King John's Reign

In the course of this war, Arthur was captured and imprisoned by John, and soon mysteriously disappeared. There can be no doubt that he was put to death, and ugly rumors whispered that John had done the wicked deed with his own hands. On every side John's vassals and followers deserted him, and Philip made rapid gains.

"Let him go on," boasted John, while doing nothing to prevent this. "Whatever he takes, I shall retake it in a single day."

This was easier said than done. At last the "Saucy Castle," built by Richard with so much pains and expense, was taken, and all Normandy passed into the hands of the French. Most of Aquitaine, which lay south of the river Loire, remained true to English rule—not because of any love for John, but because the nobles dreaded to lose their independent position if their lands were annexed to the French crown, and because of loyalty to John's mother, Eleanor, their old mistress.

The loss of Normandy seemed to the English people of that day a great disaster; but we can see now that it was a good thing for England, as well as for France. The descendants of the conquering Normans and of the conquered English had for many years been growing more and more alike, and more and more ready to act together in all that concerned the kingdom. The people in the reign of Henry II. and of Richard had been allowed to carry on their local governments according to ancient usage. London, and many other towns also, had received charters from the king which permitted them to manage their own affairs, and as a result the townsmen had become self-reliant, and interested in public matters. Now that the Norman barons were obliged to give up their lands in France, they looked upon themselves as Englishmen. Thus, when the loss of his Norman possessions compelled the King to give his attention solely to England, he found the nobles and the common people ready to act together for the interests of the whole country.

Soon after John's return to England, the Archbishop of Canterbury died, and for nearly eight years afterward John engaged in a great quarrel with the Pope over the filling of the vacancy.

The monks of Canterbury had the right to choose the archbishop, but it had been the custom for the King to name the man whom the monks should elect. On this occasion the monks, without consulting John, elected one of their own number and sent him to Rome to be confirmed by the Pope. When John learned what had been done, he compelled the monks to elect another man, a favorite of his own, who also went to Rome and appealed to the Pope. After considering the matter for a year, the Pope declared that neither candidate had been properly elected; and he then consecrated as archbishop a clergyman at Rome named Stephen Langton, who was learned, able, and of English birth.

No better choice could have been made, but King John was furious at the Pope's action. He refused to allow Langton to enter England, and he seized the lands and revenues of the archbishopric. To punish the King, the Pope placed an "interdict" upon the whole kingdom,—that is, he forbade all church services except the baptism of infants and the "last unction" or anointing of the dying. The church doors remained closed; the bells were silent; even the dead were buried without ceremony, in unhallowed ground.

John took no heed, save to drive from the land the bishops who proclaimed the interdict and to seize their lands. Then the Pope "excommunicated" the King—that is, declared him to be cut off from all connection with the Church, and all hope of heaven. Still John refused to submit. At last the Pope declared John deposed from his throne, released his English subjects from all duty to him, and gave Philip of France authority to take possession of the English kingdom.

Philip prepared to invade England, and John also collected troops. But John distrusted his barons, and when the war was about to begin he suddenly yielded to the Pope's demands. Stephen Langton was permitted to take up his duties as archbishop, and John promised to restore the lands and moneys which he had taken from the Church. In addition, he surrendered his kingdom to the Pope and received it again as a fief, agreeing to pay a yearly tribute. Thus, the second great struggle was ended by the King of England becoming the Pope's vassal. The interdict and the excommunication were removed, and Philip was forbidden to proceed with his expedition.

When the quarrel with the Pope was settled, John was in the midst of a third great struggle,—this time with his own barons, who wished a remedy for the evils of his rule.

The King was constantly making new demands upon both the nobles and the people. He had called upon them for services which they did not think they ought to render, and he had levied taxes unknown in earlier times. In some cases he cast men into prison without law, and in others he unjustly seized their lands and goods. In many ways, King John outraged the rights of his people, so that all classes were ready to rebel.

The barons found a shrewd adviser in Stephen Langton, the new archbishop. He reminded them of the charter in which Henry I. had promised reforms of government to the nation, and told the barons to demand a similar charter from King John.

While John was waging war on the Continent, seeking vainly to recover his lost dominions, the leading barons secretly met together, under pretext of a pilgrimage, and swore to compel the King to restore the liberties of the realm, and to confirm them by a charter. Their demands were presented to John, upon his return; but the King cried out in wrath:

"Why do they not ask for my kingdom? I will never grant such liberties as will make me a slave."

Portion of the Great Charter

In various ways, John sought to break up the forces that confronted him; but all in vain. "The army of God and of Holy Church," as the rebels called themselves, marched upon London, and the citizens joyously opened the city gates to them.

On June 15, in the year 1215, John met the representatives of the barons "in the meadow which is called Runnymede, between Windsor and Staines," on the river Thames. Here he was forced to sign the Great Charter,—called Magna Charta  in Latin, the language in which it was written. It set forth the rights of all the people, including churchmen, nobles and townsmen. Since that day, the Charter has been repeatedly confirmed, and now stands as part of the foundation of English law. Its principles are part of the constitution of every English-speaking nation. Among many important provisions these two are chief:

"No free man shall be taken, or imprisoned, or dispossessed, or outlawed, or banished, or in any way destroyed, nor will we go upon him, nor will we send upon him, except by lawful judgment of his peers, and by the law of the land."

"To no one will we sell—to no one will we deny—right or justice."

John Granting the Charter

In these provisions the King admitted that he had no right to imprison or punish any man except according to law; he agreed that he would no longer take a man's liberty or goods merely by his own will.

It is said that when King John signed the Charter he wore a smiling countenance, and spoke pleasantly to the lords about him; but that when he reached his own chamber he threw himself down in a mad rage upon the ground, gnashing his teeth and biting the rushes with which it was strewn.

John had no intention of keeping his promises, and war soon began again. The King had the support of hired troops, chiefly from France; and the Pope, who was now his overlord, gave him such help as he could. The barons, for their part, called upon Louis, son of King Phillip of France, to come to their aid, and offered him the English crown. Louis came with a large army, and for a time the barons were successful.

Then John's fortunes began to brighten, and it seemed as if he might overcome his enemies after all, and again set up his will as law. But, in crossing an arm of the sea, his army was surprised by the tide, and his baggage, with the royal treasure, was washed away.

A fever then seized John, and he died in a few days. Men said his illness would not have been fatal had he not made it worse by eating heartily of unripe peaches. His death occurred in the fall of the year 1216. John's son, Henry III., a nine year old boy, succeeded him on the throne, and Prince Louis soon withdrew his forces to France. The barons had fought only against the tyranny of King John, and they would not support the French Prince against their own young King.

Topics for Thought and Search

The Barons' Wars against Henry III

Henry III. reigned for fifty-six years, from 1216 to 1272. He was not lawless and cruel, like his father; on the contrary, he was religious, and a good husband and father. Yet he was not a good King, and the discontent of his subjects at last broke out again in civil war.

Until Henry came of age, the country was well governed, under the guidance of men of noble birth and high character, who had been trained by Henry II. But when Henry III. took the government into his own hands, confusion followed, especially in money matters.

The young King loved to make a great display of riches, to provide great feasts and entertainments, and give magnificent gifts to French favorites. This not only wasted revenues, but aroused the ill-will of his English subjects, who were very jealous of foreigners. Henry III. also permitted the Pope's agents to raise large sums of money in England to send to Rome, in spite of the loud complaints of the people and the English clergy. A war which Henry waged with France, for the recovery of the territories lost by his father, only succeeded in increasing his debts. Finally, Henry allowed himself to be drawn into a great struggle between the Emperor and the Pope, which so increased his debts that he was forced to appeal to parliament for new taxes. This gave the barons their opportunity to interfere with his misgovernment.

King and Soldiers Met by a Messenger

The leader of the barons at this time was Simon de Montfort, a stern and warlike knight, of French birth, who had become Earl of Leicester, in England. Though Simon had married the King's sister, he was not always in favor with Henry; on the other hand, the English barons at first regarded him with distrust, because he was of foreign birth. When Henry sent him to govern Gascony, or Aquitaine, his rule was severe and violent, and many complaints reached the king from the rebellious lords whom Simon had compelled to obey. Henry was always ready to blame Simon, who therefore gave up his task at last, and returned to England, where he soon became the leader of those who wished to end the King's misgovernment.

Banner of Simon de Montfort

With Simon de Montfort at their head, the barons compelled the king to promise reforms. In 1285 they provided a council of fifteen barons to take entire charge of the government,—not to remove the King, but to see that he ruled rightly. For some time the King observed this agreement; but, after five years, he declared he would no longer be bound by it.

Then, at last, the barons understood that nothing but force would compel Henry to rule justly.

"Though all men quit me," said Simon de Montfort, "I, with my four sons, will remain and fight for the good cause which I have sworn to defend, for the honor of Holy Church, and the welfare of the kingdom."

On the other side, the King's chief aid was his twenty-five year old son, Edward. He was friendly to Simon, and wished to see reforms in the government, but he could not stand with the barons against his father.

An important battle was fought at Lewes, in the southern part of England. Partly because of Simon's wise plans and partly because of Prince Edward's rashness, the battle was won by the barons, and the king and prince were forced to surrender.

Fight Between Knights, in the Time of Henry III

With Henry in his hands, Simon de Montfort for a time exercised the power of the King. He ruled wisely and secured the favor of the people. But the fortunes of his party soon changed, through the escape of the Prince from captivity.

One day, while riding with his captors, Prince Edward suggested that they race their horses, to see which was the fastest. This was done, until the horses were all tired out. Then the Prince suddenly mounted a fresh horse, which he had close at hand, and easily escaped from their pursuit.

By this time, many of the nobles were dissatisfied with Earl Simon's harshness; and Edward soon gathered a large army about him, to rescue and restore the King. The battle was fought in 1265, at Evesham, in the west of England. Prince Edward showed much skill in forcing Simon to fight in an unfavorable position. When the Earl saw Edward's army approaching, in great numbers and excellent order, he said:

"They come on skilfully, yet it is from me that they have learned this order of battle. God have mercy on our souls, for our bodies are Prince Edward's!"

Simon and his barons fought bravely, but they were overpowered. The Earl himself held out, dealing terrible blows, until he was slain by an attack from behind. The people lamented his fall, and a song is preserved, which they made soon after his death:

"In song my grief shall find relief,

Sad is my verse and rude;

I sing in tears our gentle peers

Who fell for England's good.

The First Two Edwards

It was to Prince Edward that the people looked for good government after the death of Simon de Montfort. He was a young man, sober in judgment, and known to be in favor of just and orderly rule. Thenceforth, Henry III. was guided by his son Edward, and other counselors; and, for the remaining seven years of his life, the country was quite and prosperous.

Meanwhile, Prince Edward found stirring work to do in the last of the Crusades. He had always loved warlike exercises, and by his success in tournaments had become one of the most famous knights in Europe. He was religious by nature, and so, when he found a time in which he was not needed at home, he was glad to take a share in the Crusades.

In spite of several Crusades which had been undertaken since the time of Richard I., the Turks still held Palestine and the Holy City of Jerusalem. In 1270 Prince Edward set out with a small company of followers, and remained about a year in Syria, fighting with great skill and courage. But he could do little toward driving out he Turks. At one time he nearly lost his life, as the result of a Mohammedan plot. While he was resting in his tent, without his armor, one day, a messenger entered on the pretext of bringing a letter from the "Old Man of the Mountain," the ruler of a Mohammedan sect, whose capital was on Mount Lebanon. These people were called "Assassins," a name meaning "drunk with haschisch" (a drink made from hemp); and they were ready for any desperate errand of murder upon which their master sent them. As the Prince was reading the letter, the "assassin" drew a poisoned dagger, and struck him, but fortunately only wounded him in the arm. The "assassin" was at once slain. As a result of prompt measures, Edward's wound soon healed, and not long afterward he departed for England.

When Sicily was reached, news came that Henry III. was dead, and that Edward I. had been proclaimed King. Edward did not hurry home to be crowned, but instead remained in his territory of Gascony for a time, to settle affairs there. At Chalons, his life was again placed in danger, in a tournament, which was entered upon as a friendly trial of skill, but which was turned into a deadly battle. Many knights were slain, and Edward himself was in great danger, before he and his Englishmen won the day.

Seal of Edward I

Edward's life was always full of activity. He was strong and brave, very tall and straight, with broad, deep chest, dark eyes, and brown flowing hair. Because of his long legs and arms he was called "Longshanks." He was a good swordsman, a good rider, and a good speaker. He bore an English name, and was the first King since the Norman Conquest who used English as his ordinary speech. As Prince he had been loved by the people, and as King he proved himself a wise guardian of the people's welfare. He reigned from 1272 to 1307, and he was guided always by the motto which at last was placed on his tomb—"Keep Faith." Though he sometimes had disputes with his people, yet he always "kept faith" with them.

A Cross Erected by Edward I to the Memory of his Queen

Edward's greatest title to fame rests on the improvements which he made in the English laws.

In Europe, as a whole, the wanderings of the nations were now over. The Crusades had come to an end, and strong governments were beginning to arise. Everywhere there was need that old laws should be revised and new ones made to suit the new time.

This was the work which Edward I. did in England. He revised and put in order the old laws, and he made many new laws, so that he was regarded as a great "law-giver." We may truly say that the roots of the English law, as we have it today, go back to the time of Edward I.

First, Edward punished his own officers and judges for abusing their powers.

Then he made laws to check the power of the great feudal lords.

Still another law, called the "Statute of Mortmain," forbade that any more land should be given or sold to the Church, especially the monasteries, without the King's consent. Monasteries were "corporations," which "never died," no matter how often the individual members of the body might change; so land held by them was called land in "mortmain,"—that is, in a "dead hand" which never relaxed. A great part of the land of England—perhaps one-third—was already in the hands of the Church; and since, the King's rights of taxation, and the like, were less over the Church lands than over other lands, it was important that the amount of land so held should not be increased.

Another great statute required that every free man should have arms and armor according to his means, and should appear for review twice a year. Those who were too poor to have armor and swords were required to have bows and arrows, and soon the English people became famed for their skill as archers. Other provisions of this law required that "watch and ward" should be kept in the towns at night, to guard against crimes; and that when an offense was committed, all the people should join in "hue and cry" after the offender, until he was caught.

A great part of Edward's reign was taken up with the wars which he waged with the Welsh and the Scots, in the endeavor to bring all parts of Great Britain under the rule of the English King.

The trouble first arose with the Welsh, who inhabited the mountainous region in the western part of Great Britain. They were descendants of those Britons who were driven westward by the invading Anglo-Saxons, until the Severn river formed their eastern boundary. In the time of the Normans, powerful Norman lords established themselves along the borders of the Welsh territory, as "lords of the Marches." The Welsh were a high-spirited and courageous people, and they made constant, though usually unsuccessful, attacks upon these "lords marcher."

When Edward became King, Prince Llewelyn of Wales refused to do homage. Edward invaded Wales, and besieged the Welsh so closely, in the mountainous country, that they were forced by cold and hunger to surrender. In a second war, a few years later, Prince Llewelyn was killed. This ended the independence of Wales.

The country has ever since remained under the rule of England, and the title "Prince of Wales" has usually been borne by the eldest son of the English Sovereign. Edward gave Wales a system of government like that of the English shires, and ruled it wisely and justly.

Edward I. also fought a long war with Scotland. He wished to unite the English and the Scots under one rule, but he managed the matter so badly that, when he died, the Scots hated the English, and the union was farther off than ever.

The story of Scotland is a long one, and we can tell only a small part of it here. In the old days, one of the rulers had become the vassal of an Anglo-Saxon King, and two centuries later another had yielded to Henry II. Thus the Kings of England claimed the overlordship of Scotland. In Edward I.'s time a dispute arose for the crown, and the Scottish lords appealed to King Edward to decide who had the best right. Edward decided in favor of John Balliol, who had the best claim, and he was thereupon crowned King of Scotland.

When Edward began to exercise certain rights as overlord of Scotland, Balliol resisted. Thus began the Scottish war, which, except for some short interruptions, lasted during the rest of Edward's life. Balliol was driven from his throne, and an English guardian was placed over the country. A fiery leader of the Scots then appeared, named William Wallace, who won a great victory over the English at Stirling.

But soon King Edward won a greater victory over Wallace, at Falkirk. The Scots, armed with long spears or pikes, were drawn up in four great circles, and waited to be attacked.

"I have brought you to the ring," cried Wallace to the English, "now dance if you can."

The Scottish spearmen were able to turn back the charges of the English horsemen. But when Edward brought up his archers, their deadly arrows broke up the Scottish circles, and gave the victory to the English.

A few years later, Wallace was taken prisoner, and was cruelly put to death. Soon the Scots rebelled again, under Robert Bruce, whom they crowned King. Bruce suffered many defeats, and at one time was almost ready to give up the fight. A story is told how, one day as he lay hid, he watched a spider repair her web over and over again, until at last it held fast; and thus he, too, took courage and persevered.

After Edward's death (in 1307) Bruce conquered nearly all Scotland, until only the castle of Stirling held out against him. To save Stirling, Edward II., the unworthy son of Edward I., led a great army into Scotland, and fought a battle at Bannockburn. The English were poorly led, while Bruce showed himself a good general. The Scottish poet, Robert Burns, makes Bruce address his soldiers in these words:

"Scots wha ha'e wi' Wallace bled,

Scots, wham Bruce has aften led!

Welcome to your gory bed,

Or to glorious victorie!

The Rise of Parliament

There never has been a period, since England has been united into a single kingdom, when some sort of council or assembly was not called, from time to time, to aid the King in governing.

In the days of the Anglo-Saxons, this body was called the "Witenagemot" (witéen-a-ge-mot), or assembly of the wise men, and was made up of the bishops, abbots, king's thegns, and chief officers of the kingdom. It was this body which aided Alfred in making his laws, and which elected Harold—and after him William—to be King of England.

After the Norman Conquest, the Kings from time to time called about them, to aid them with counsel and advice, all the lords who held land directly of them by feudal tenure. Except for the fact that the feudal lords were at first mainly Normans, this body did not differ very much from the one which preceded it; for the great officers of the land were the King's vassals, and the bishops and abbots also held their lands by feudal tenure from the King. It was this Great Council of the barons which settled who should have the crown when there was a dispute; it was also this body which helped Henry II. carry through his great reforms. But the Great Council only aided and advised the King; it did not control him.

What is it that makes the difference between these earlier assemblies and the later one which we call Parliament?

First, Parliament is a "representative" body—that is, it is composed in part of persons who do not sit in right of their offices or lands, but who are elected to represent the people. Second, it is divided into two "houses"—a House of Lords, and a House of Commons. And third, it has more power than the older assemblies had.

The addition of "representatives," along with the great churchmen and barons, was the first step in transforming the old Great Council into the Parliament.

The practice of having "representatives," to act in the name of the community, was first used in local government. In the Anglo-Saxon time, each township sent four representatives to take part in the "hundred" and "shire" meetings. When Henry II. introduced jury trial, he was really using the "representative" principle; for every jury gives its verdict, not from any right which the members have, but in the name of the community which it represents. Thus, in many ways, the people became used to the idea of having representatives chosen to help carry on the local government, in the name of the people of the community.

Why were representatives added to the Great Council?

The reason was that a time came when the Kings needed more money to carry on the enlarged work of government; and, as this money must come chiefly from the people of the towns and country, it seemed best to ask them to send representatives to meet with the Great council, and give the consent of their communities to the new taxes.

These representatives were of two sorts; first, the "knights of the shire," who represented the lesser nobles and country gentlemen who were not members of the Great Council; and, second, the "borough representatives," who came from the cities and towns (boroughs) and represented the trading classes.

The knights of the shire were the first to be added to the assembly. In 1213, for the first time, the Kings called them to meet with the Great Council, "to speak with us concerning the business of our kingdom." From time to time after that "knights of the shire" were summoned to the assemblies until the practice became permanent. The were elected by the landholders, in the county assemblies, and every county sent two, no matter what size.

We have already seen that it was Simon de Montfort who, in 1265, first called representatives of the towns, or "boroughs," to the central assembly. In 1295, Edward I. called a meeting which established it as a rule that, in a Parliament, there ought to be representatives both of the counties and of the towns. This was called the "Model Parliament," because it became a model for succeeding ones. The number of boroughs which sent representatives was greater than in 1265, and from time to time changes were made in the list in after days. Each town which sent representatives at all elected two.

At first, the representative of the counties and towns sat in the same body with the barons and great churchmen; but, by the year 1340, the Parliament had separated into two "houses." The Upper House became the House of Lords, and included the great barons (who bore the titles of "Duke," "Marquis," "Earl," "Viscount," and "Baron"), and also the archbishops and bishops, and the abbots or heads of monasteries.

The Lower House became the House of Commons, and in course of time it became the most important part of Parliament. This was because it was called upon, especially, to vote the taxes which the King needed for carrying on the government. For a time the towns and counties looked upon representation in Parliament as a burden. But, gradually, their representatives began to hold back the voting of taxes, until the King and his ministers promised to correct any grievances of which they complained. Then it was seen that the right of voting taxes was a great and valuable power, and the people no longer complained of the burden of being represented in Parliament.

At first, it was not certain whether the Commons should be admitted to a share in the law-making power, or whether they should be only allowed to vote taxes. But in his summons to the "Model Parliament" Edward I. laid down the principle that "what concerns all should be approved by all." And, twenty-seven years later, the rule was laid down that all matters which concerned the kingdom and the people, "shall be established in Parliament, by the King, and by the consent of the Lords and the Commons  of the realm." From this time on the powers of the Commons grew, until they are now much greater than those of the House of Lords.

But we must not think of these early Parliaments as having the great powers which Parliaments have today. The King was still much more powerful than the Parliament, though since the granting of the Great Charter it was recognized that the King was below the law, and not above it. In making new laws, and in laying new taxes, he needed the consent of Parliament; but in carrying on the general business of the government—in making war, and in concluding peace—he could act without Parliament. Often he consulted Parliament about such matters, but he could act as he pleased. The ministers who carried on the government were still the King's ministers, and responsible to him only. It was to be several centuries yet—and a great civil war must be fought, and one King beheaded and another deposed—before Parliament was recognized as the chief power in the government.

Nevertheless, by the time that Edward III. came to the throne the framework  of Parliament—though not its powers—was complete.

Topics for Thought and Search

Edward III. and the Hundred Years' War

Edward III. reigned for fifty years—from 1327 to 1377. During the first four years, the government was in the hands of those who had deposed Edward II.; but when Edward III. was eighteen years old, he took the power into his own hands. He was handsome, brave, and energetic. In the greater part of his reign, the people gladly supported him, for the wars which he carried on were popular, and he let Parliament have much power. But, in his old age, he grew selfish and extravagant, and troubles arose.

The most important thing in the reign of Edward III. was the beginning of a long war—or rather a series of wars—with France. We call this the Hundred Years' War, because it lasted for more than a century, from 1327 to 1453.

Many causes combined to produce this long war. The English Kings could not forget that they had once held Normandy, and no King of France could be content so long as another King was his vassal for so large a part of the kingdom as the English King still held in Gascony. When Edward III. renewed the English war with Scotland, the French King aided the Scots; and when troubles broke out in Flanders, in northern France, Edward III. supported the Flemish people against their count, who was supported by his overlord, the King of France. In this last quarrel, the English people were strongly on the side of their King; for the industrious cloth manufacturers of the Flemish cities were the chief customers for England's wool.

When war had been decided upon, Edward III. made matters worse by claiming that he was the rightful King of France. His mother was the sister of the last preceding French King; and when this King died without sons, Edward said that the French crown should have gone to him, as that King's nephew. But the French had a rule that no woman  could reign over France, and they decided (as they had a perfect right to do) that this also shut out those who claimed through  a woman, as Edward did. They therefore had given the crown to the nearest male member of their royal house, whose right came entirely through males. Even when the Hundred Years' War finally ended, the English Kings did not cease styling themselves "Kings of France"; and it was not until the beginning of the nineteenth century that this claim was finally abandoned.

Two very famous battles—the battle of Crecy and Poitiers—were fought in this war, while Edward III. was King; and later, as we shall see, a third battle—that of Agincourt—was fought by Henry V. In all three of these battles, the victory was chiefly due to the strength and skill of the English archers, with their "long bows" and "cloth-yard shafts," which could shoot true for two hundred yards, and pierce through coats of mail.

The battle of Crecy was fought in northern France, in 1346. Edward III. had landed in Normandy, and marched up the valley of the river Seine, until the flames of the villages burned by the English could be seen from the walls of Paris. Then he turned northward, with the French in hot pursuit. He awaited their attack on a little hill at Crecy. The French force was five times as great as that of the English, and included a body of hired crossbowmen from Italy.

The crossbowmen were no match for the English longbowmen. The English arrows fell among them "so thick that it seemed as if it snowed," and they broke ranks and fled.

"Slay these rascals," angrily cried the French King, pointing to the crossbowmen, "for they trouble us without reason."

Battle of Crecy

"But ever still," says the chronicler Froissart, who wrote about these wars, "the Englishmen shot wherever the crowd was thickest. The sharp arrows pierced the knights, and their horses, and many fell, both horse and men; and when they were down they could not rise again, for the press was so thick that one overthrew another."

Edward III. had given the command of one division of his knights (who fought on foot in this battle) to his sixteen year old son, Edward the Black Prince. The King himself guided the whole battle from the tower of a little windmill on the battle field. Presently a messenger came to him in haste, and said:

"Sire, those about the Prince are fiercely fought and sore handled, wherefore they desire that you and your division come and aid them."

"Is my son dead, or hurt, or felled to earth?" inquired the King.

"No, sire," replied the messenger, "but he is overmatched, and has need of your aid."

"Well," said the King, "return to them that sent you, and say to them that they need send no more to me, no matter what happens, as long as my son is alive. And also say to them that I wish that they let him this day win his spurs. For if God be pleased, I will that this day be his, and the honor thereof."

Night came, with the English lines still unbroken, while the French were in hopeless confusion. The French King fled wounded from the field, leaving behind him eleven princes of France among the slain, and thousands of lesser rank. It was one of the greatest victories in English history, and it was won by despised foot-soldiers, of low rank, against the nobly born nights of France.

The only profit which the English took from their victory was to capture the city of Calais, just across the Straits from Dover. The French inhabitants were driven out, and English settlers took their places. The possession of this city gave England a convenient entrance into France, and for more than two hundred years it remained in their hands.

While Edward was fighting in France, the Scots sought to aid the French by invading England. Edward's Queen, Philippa,, gathered an army which defeated and captured the Scottish King, at Neville's Cross. A song-writer of that time tells how the Scottish King—

"Brought many bagmen,

Ready bent was their bow,

They robbed and they ravaged

And naught they let go.

Richard II., The Last Plantagenet King

When Edward III. died, in 1377, he was succeeded by his grandson, Richard II. He was the son of the Black Prince, and was only ten years old when he became King. His reign of twenty-two years was filled with many troubles. These were due to the quarrels of parties while he was under age; to the religious and social changes of the time; and to a combination of weakness and violence in his own character.

A religious movement, started by John Wyclif, a great preacher and university professor at Oxford, was responsible for part of the troubles of his reign. Wyclif complained bitterly of many evils in the Church, and said that they were due to the fact that the Pope, bishops, and abbots were no longer poor men like Christ and the Apostles, but lived in luxury, and were rulers of great estates. He gathered together a body of "poor priests," whom he sent forth to live among the people and preach his doctrines. And to aid their work, he translated the Bible, for the first time, from the Latin, which was then used in the churches, into the English tongue spoken by the common people.

John Wyclif

If Wyclif had stopped here, all might have been well; but he went further, and attacked the teaching of the church concerning the Lord's Supper. This was too much for many who had supported him, and he began to lose followers. A rebellion, which broke out among the peasants, was also charged to his teachings. His opinions were therefore condemned, and he was obliged to stop teaching at Oxford. But, as yet, there was no law in England, as there was on the Continent, for burning "heretics," or teachers of wrong religion; so Wyclif was allowed to retire into the country, where he died a few years afterward. Later a new law was passed "for the burning of heretics," and then all the "Lollards" (as those were called who held Wyclif's opinions), were obliged either to give up their opinions, or to suffer death at the steak. More than a century later, when Luther, in Germany, had begun the Reformation of the Church, and England had broken away from obedience to the Pope, the reformers looked back to Wyclif, and called him "the Morning Star of the Reformation."

The rebellion of the peasants, for which Wyclif was held partly responsible, came in the year 1381. Several things beside his teachings helped to produce it. Since the time of the Black Death, the landlords had tried to keep fast hold on the villains (or "serfs") who were left to them, and would no longer permit them to escape the burdensome duties which they owed by paying small sums of money. The free peasants also complained bitterly of the laws which Parliament passed to keep down wages, and to prevent their going where they pleased. And the discontent was brought to a head by a law imposing a new sort of tax—a "poll tax," or head tax—upon all the people above fourteen years of age, at a uniform rate of both rich and poor.

Peasants Plowing

Peasants Breaking Clods with Mallets

Harrowing

Men and Women Reaping

The troubles which followed occurred, more or less, all over England. But it was chiefly in the southeastern parts—in the counties of Kent and Essex—that the movement was dangerous.

There a priest named John Ball had, for some time, been preaching against the oppression of the poor by the rich.

"Ah, ye good people," he would say, "matters will not go well in England until everything is owned in common, and there are no longer villains nor gentlemen, but all are united together. Now, the lords are clothed in velvets and furs, while we are clothed with poor cloth. They have wines, spices, and good bread, while we live upon chaff and drink water. They dwell in fine houses, while we have pain and labor, wind and rain, in the fields. And when the produce is raised by our labors, they take it, and consume it; and we are called their bondmen, and, unless we serve them readily, we are beaten."

John Ball at the Head of Rebels

He summed up his teachings in this verse, which was everywhere repeated:

"When Adam delved and Eve span,

Who was then the gentleman?"

But John Ball was not the chief leader of the movement when the peasants actually broke out into revolt. That position was held by a peasant named Wat (or Walter) Tyler, who had great courage, was a good speaker, and knew how to get and to keep the support of his followers.

First, the peasants attacked their own landlords, and burned the records which showed the services they owed, destroyed the deer-parks, and emptied the fish ponds. Lawyers were put to death wherever met with, for it was by their aid that the peasants were oppressed. Then the peasants made their way to London—perhaps 100,000 of them—and were secretly aided and encouraged by the apprentices and poor citizens of the capital. London bridge fell into their hands, and they entered the city, burning the houses of those great lords whom they held responsible for misgovernment, freeing prisoners, and rioting and plundering everywhere. It was no wonder that the chief officers of the government, in their refuge in the Tower, with their fifteen year old King, trembled for their lives.

London Bridge

The next day, Richard II. met the rebels in a large open place called Mile End. He heard their grievances, and granted them a charter by which they were no longer to be serfs, and were to have their lands at a low rent. Many of the rebels then returned home. The day after this, Richard met those who remained, under Wat Tyler, at a place called Smithfield, where they demanded further reforms—free hunting and fishing, and the right to take fuel and timber for building from the woods, and the division of the church property. The King pretended to accept these demands, also.

This meeting took place at some little distance from the peasant forces, and the peasants could not see what was going on between their leader and the King. One of the courtiers took this opportunity to pick a quarrel with Tyler, and slew him. His followers were told that their leader would meet them elsewhere. When they discovered how they had been tricked, they were panic-stricken, and soon scattered to their homes.

According to one account, young Richard showed great courage when the peasants discovered how they had been deprived of their leader. As the story goes, they began to place arrows on their bow-strings to avenge his death; but Richard rode boldly forward, and said:

"What need you, my masters? Would you shoot your King? I will be your captain."

When the revolt was over, the government declared that the promises which had been made to the peasants were not binding, and that everything should be as it had been before. The leaders of the rebellion, including John Ball, were brought to trial and put to death.

In spite of the withdrawal of the promises made to the peasants, villainage gradually came to an end. Landlords found that unwilling service was unprofitable, and within a hundred years after the great Peasants' Revolt, villains had practically ceased to exist in England.

Besides the religious troubles connected with Wyclif's teachings, and the social troubles connected with the Peasant Revolt, the reign of Richard II. was filled with political troubles, which ended in his being deposed and another King chosen in his place.

It would take too long to tell the story of all these troubles—how Parliament appointed a commission to guide the King's rule; how the King's judges declared that the leaders of Parliament had committed treason; how those leaders collected an army and defeated the King's forces; how the King's friends were hanged or exiled by order of "the Merciless Parliament"; how the King declared himself of age, and ruled wisely for eight years; how he suddenly changed, and put to death or banished his worst enemies; how he surrounded Parliament with his archers, and compelled it to give him a tax for life, and to grant him greater powers than any other English King had ever had. His triumph helped him little, for he did not know ho to use power when once it was in his hands.

One of the most powerful men of the kingdom was Henry of Bolingbroke, son of the Duke Lancaster. His father, who was called John of Gaunt, was the third son of Edward III., and Henry himself was Duke of Hereford. He had shown himself a good knight, by fighting for a time in eastern Germany against the heathen Slavs, and by going on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. He first sided against Richard II., and then for him; but Richard took the opportunity, offered by Henry's quarrel with another nobleman, to banish both from the kingdom. Then, while Henry of Bolingbroke was absent, his father died (in 1399), and Richard seized the lands of the Duke of Lancaster for himself.

To recover this inheritance, Henry of Bolingbroke landed in England with sixty followers. The sixty soon became sixty thousand, for all classes of people were offended by Richard's rule. At this time, Richard was in Ireland, carrying on war; so his enemies were free to gather their forces. When Richard hastily returned, he found himself deserted by everyone, and soon fell into Henry's hands.

"Your people, my lord," said Henry, "complain that for twenty years you have ruled them harshly. However, if it pleases God, I will help you to rule them better."

Soon this pretense was thrown off, and Richard was given to understand that he must resign his crown; and to this he weakly consented. The poet, Shakespeare, makes Richard speak these words:

"What must the King do now? Must he submit?

The King shall do it: must he be depos'd?

The King shall be contented: must he lose

The name of King? God's name, let it go:

I'll give my jewels for a set of beads,

My gorgeous palace for a hermitage,

My gay apparel for an alms-man's gown,

My figured goblets for a dish of wood,

My scepter for a palmer's walking-staff,

My subjects for a pair of carved saints,

And my large kingdom, for a little grave!"

A Parliament was called, and the King's abdication was read to it. Then Henry of Bolingbroke stepped forward, by the vacant throne, and said:

"I, Henry of Lancaster, claim this realm and the crown, since I am descended by right line of blood from the good King Henry III., and since God had sent me with help of my kin and my friends to receive it, when the realm was on a point of being undone by lack of government and the undoing of good laws."

The whole Parliament accepted this claim, and he was seated upon the throne, as Henry IV.—the first of the Lancastrian Kings. By right of descent, he was not the nearest heir to the throne after Richard II., for he was descended from the third  son of Edward III., and a descendant from the second son existed in the person of the young Earl of March. But the Earl of March was only six years old, and Parliament passed over his claims in favor of those of the house of Lancaster.

The Houses of Lancaster and York

Later, as we shall see, the claim through the Earl of March became one factor in the great Wars of the Roses, which in turn brought the rule of the Lancastrians to an end, just as the revolution of 1399 brought to an end the rule of the direct line of the Plantagenet Kings.

Topics for Thought and Search

The Lancastrian Kings, and the Close of the Hundred Years' War

Henry IV., Henry V., and Henry VI.—father, son, and grandson—were the Kings of the House of Lancaster. The first reigned fourteen years, the second nine, and the last thirty-nine; the first had difficulty in keeping the kingdom he had won, the second added to it by conquering the kingdom of France, and the third lost all through weakness and insanity.

It was only in the last five years of his reign that Henry IV. was free from rebellions against his rule.

In the first year there was a revolt which was intended to restore Richard II. to the throne. This was easily put down, and a few months later Richard died suddenly in his prison—put to death by order of the new King.

A more serious rebellion was the one led by Owen Glendower, a Welshman, under whom the Welsh people made an effort to recover their independence. Again and again the Welsh came down from their mountain valleys, attacked the border counties of England, and the returned to their mountain retreats, whither the English army could hardly follow them.

The most serious rebellion of all followed, in England, as a result of one of these raids in which the Welsh took prisoner an English lord, named Mortimer. King Henry feared Mortimer because he was the uncle of the young Earl of March, the rightful heir to the throne; and so he took no steps to ransom him. This conduct of the King angered the powerful family of the Percies, who had aided Henry to gain the throne, and had just won a great victory over the Scots; for Mortimer was related to them also. Accordingly, Sir Harry Percy, who was called "Hotspur" because of his quick temper, went to the King and said:

"Shall a man spend his goods, and put himself in peril for you and your realm, and you will not help him in his need?"

At this the King, in turn, grew angry, and said:

"Thou art a traitor! Wilt thou that I should aid mine enemies and the enemies of the realm?"

"Traitor am I none," Hotspur replied, "but as a true man I speak." And when the King drew his dagger upon him, and would have attacked him, Hotspur cried:

"Not here, but in the field!"

And with this, he left the King, and hurried home to raise his forces.

The Percies, with the Scots whom they had taken prisoners, then marched southward to join Glendower. At Shrewsbury, on the borders of Wales, they met King Henry, with his army.

"Then there was a strong and hard battle," says a chronicler, "and many were slain on both sides. And when Harry Percy saw his men fast slain, he pressed into battle, with thirty men, and made a lane in the middle of the King's host, till he came to the King's banner. And at last he was beset about and slain, and soon his host was scattered and fled. And Sir Harry Percy's head was smitten off, and set up at York, lest his men would have said that he had been alive."

Battle of Shrewsbury

Percy's uncle was taken prisoner and beheaded. His father was pardoned for a time; but next year he rebelled again, and when at last he was captured, after three years of wandering, he, too, was put to death. Glendower was never captured, but was no longer dangerous to England.

One reason for the King's success, in putting down rebellions, was that the people were prosperous during his reign; and another was, that he kept on good terms with Parliament. King Henry's title to the throne came from Parliament, and his need of money made it necessary to please them. The result was, that he appointed officers whom he knew to be satisfactory to the members of Parliament; he permitted them to examine into the uses made of the money raised by taxes; he chose his Council from among them; and he acknowledged that grants of money should always be made first by the House of Commons.

In the year 1413, Henry IV. died—of leprosy, it is said. Many people believed that his disease was a punishment upon him because he had executed an archbishop who rebelled with the Percies. The poet, Shakespeare, makes him speak these words, on his death-bed, to his son and successor, Henry V.:

"Heaven knows, my son,

By what by-paths, and indirect crook'd ways,

I met this crown; and I myself know well,

How troublesome it sat upon my head:

To thee it shall descend with better quiet,

Better opinion, better confirmation;

For all the soil of the achievement goes

With me into the earth.  .  .  .  .  .

.  .  .  .  . Therefore, my Harry,

Be it thy course, to busy giddy minds

With foreign quarrels; that action, hence borne out,

May waste the memory of the former days."

Henry V. proved to be a conquering general, and became the idol of his people. He is represented by Shakespeare as having been a wild and reckless youth, who was so changed by the responsibilities of power that he became an ideal King. There is no proof of his wildness as a Prince, but as King he certainly was sober, clear headed, and vigorous.

He followed his father's advice to "busy giddy minds with foreign quarrels" by putting forth again the claims to the French crown. He invaded France with an army, made up mostly of archers. While he was making his way to Calais, the French met him with an army which outnumbered his own probably five to one. The battle was fought, at Agincourt (October 25, 1415), and proved as great a victory as those which Edward III. and the Black Prince had won in the beginning of the Hundred Years' War.

"The ground," says an old chronicler, "was narrow, and very advantageous for the English, and the contrary for the French; for the latter had been all night on horseback in the rain, and pages and valets and others, in walking their horses, had broken up the ground, which was soft, and in which the horses sunk in such a manner that it was with great difficulty they could get up again. Besides, the French were so loaded with armor that they could not move. First, they were armed in long coats of steel, reaching to their knees and very heavy, below which was armor for their legs, and above, armor for the head and neck; and so heavy was their armor that, together with the softness of the ground, they could with difficulty lift their weapons. The greater part of the English archers were without armor, wearing doublets, and having hatchets and axes, or long swords hanging from their girdles; some wore caps of boiled leather, or of wicker work, crossed with iron."

The French army was completely broken up. Their slain numbered as many as the whole of the English army, while the English lost little more than a hundred, all told. The victory was won almost entirely by the bowmen. After the battle, the English marched to Calais, and thence took ship for England, where they were received with great rejoicing.

City of Rouen

Two years later, Henry invaded France a second time, and the remainder of his reign was occupied with his conquests there. The French had grown cautious since the battle of Agincourt, and would not fight another great battle. The advance of the English, therefore, was slow. They first captured many castles in Normandy, and laid siege to Rouen, the capital of that province. The rulers of the city, in order to reduce the number of mouths to be fed, drove out a large number of the poorer, unarmed inhabitants. King Henry would not permit them to pass through his lines, so for several weeks these poor creatures wandered between the English line and the walls of Rouen, starving and shelterless.

An Attack on a Castle

"War," said the English King, in justifying this cruel policy, "has three hand-maidens ever waiting on her—fire, blood, and famine—and I have chosen the meekest maid of the three.

The French, meanwhile, were divided into two great parties, at war with one another. Their King, Charles VI., was insane, and the control of the government was disputed between his son, the Dauphin, and the King's uncle, the Duke of Burgundy. At last, in 1419, the Duke of Burgundy was murdered by one of the Dauphin's followers, in revenge for a murder which Burgundy had himself caused.

This made the breach between the two French parties too wide to be healed for many years. The new Duke of Burgundy went over to the side of the English, and with him went the French Queen, and the city of Paris.

Soon a treaty was signed, in 1420, by which Henry married the French Princess, Katherine. The contest for the throne of France was settled by acknowledging Henry as regent of France during the lifetime of the insane King, Charles VI., and agreeing that he was to become King in his own right after Charles's death.

Marriage of Henry V and Katherine of France

The Dauphin and his followers refused to recognize this treaty as binding. For the present this did not much matter, for the English speedily drove the Dauphin's followers south of the river Loire, leaving all the northern half of France in possession of the English King. But, in the midst of his victories, Henry V. died of camp fever, in 1422, and the upholder of the English rights was then his infant son by Queen Katherine—a babe nine months' old.

A short time after the death of Henry V., Charles VI. of France died. This left the crowns of both England and France to the baby King, Henry VI. The government was placed in the hands of Henry V.'s brother, the Duke of Bedford, who was a man of noble character and an excellent soldier.

For several years, Bedford carried on the war in France with great success. At last, the only place of importance held by the dispossessed Dauphin was the city of Orleans, and to this the English were laying siege. If this should fall, the whole of France would pass into English hands.

But now there occurred one of the most wonderful things in history—the rise to successful leadership over the French army of a young girl, named Joan of Arc.

Joan was of peasant birth, and like most peasants could not read or write. She was a good, sweet girl, and very religious; and she was deeply touched by the miseries of France. She began to hear "voices" of the saints, which urged her to free France, and to bring the Dauphin to the city of Rheims to be crowned king. She long resisted the voices, saying,—

"I am a poor girl. I cannot ride or be a leader in war." In the end, her voices prevailed; and she came, in men's armor, with a holy banner and a sword, to raise the siege of Orleans. It was only with difficulty that she secured the Dauphin's permission; but as soon as she appeared in the camp, she put a new spirit into the French. The English scarcely dared to oppose her, for they believed that she was a "limb of the devil."

Joan of Arc

In a short time, Joan drove the English from Orleans, and then led the French King to Rheims, where he was crowned. Joan then said her work was done, but the French would not permit her to return home. After some further fighting, she was captured by soldiers of the Duke of Burgundy, who sold her to the English.

At the command of the English, she was accused as a witch and a heretic. After a long and unjust trial, she was condemned to death. She was publicly burned at the stake, calling with her last breath upon the name of Jesus. One of the English soldiers was so impressed by her courage and piety that he exclaimed:

"We are lost! We have burned a saint!"

Joan of Arc had accomplished her work. She convinced the French that, if they would unite, they could drive the English from their land. Even the Duke of Burgundy finally broke off his alliance with England, and joined in the attack upon the common enemy. Just at this time, moreover, the Duke of Bedford died. With their best general gone, and the French united against them, the English were not able to hold what Henry V. had won.

Matters did not mend for the English when Henry VI. grew up to manhood. He had no taste for war or business, and would far rather have lived the life of a monk. Fierce quarrels broke out among the English nobles, and those who secured power proved corrupt and unsuccessful in their government.

So, bit by bit, the English lost the lands which they held in France. In 1450, Normandy was again taken from them. Soon Bordeaux, on the Bay of Biscay, was the only place which they held in southern France; and in 1453, after the defeat of the English in a hard-fought battle, this too was obliged to surrender. There then remained to them only one place in France—the city of Calais, which Edward III. had taken in 1347, and which England was to hold for a hundred years longer.

The great civil wars, called the Wars of the Roses, were now coming on in England, so that nothing could be done to recover the lost possessions in France.

Without any treaty of peace, the long Hundred Years' War—which had lasted since 1337—was suffered quietly to come to an end.

Topics for Thought and Search

The Wars of the Roses (1455-1485)

Henry VI. was one of the most unfortunate kings who ever sat on a throne. He was truthful, upright, and just, and wished to please everybody. But he had neither the strength of mind nor of body to rule a kingdom, and for long periods he was actually insane.

In 1450, the misgovernment of his ministers led to a rebellion, in southeastern England, under one Jack Cade. The rebels proclaimed that "the King's false Council hath lost his law; his merchandise is lost; France is lost; the King himself is so set that he may not pay for his meat or drink, and he oweth more than ever any King of England owed." The rebellion was easily put down; but it led the Duke of York to put himself at the head of the opposition, and a struggle then began which soon passed into a war for the crown itself.

In order to understand this contest between the houses of York and Lancaster, you will need to look at the table on page 141, and see just how each house was descended from King Edward III. Henry VI., the head of the house of Lancaster, represented the third line of descent; while Richard of York was descended from Edward's second son, Lionel, through his mother, as well as from the fourth son, through his father. If strict rules of succession were regarded, Richard of York had a better right to the throne than King Henry VI. But the claims of the line of Lionel had been passed over in 1399, and had been since disregarded; and it was only the miserable failure of the French war, and the misgovernment at home, which enabled the Yorkists to win any attention for their claims.

Henry VI

At first, the object of York was merely to take the government from incapable persons, and to secure it for himself; but later he claimed the throne itself. His ablest supporter was the Earl of Warwick, who played so important a part that he is called "the King Maker." On the Lancastrian side, the real head of the party was Queen Margaret, a young and beautiful French woman, who fiercely resisted all attempts to disinherit her son, Prince Edward. On both sides, the followers of the different lords were distinguished by the badges which they wore—the swan, the bear and staff, the white hart or deer, and the like. But the Lancastrians regarded the Red Rose as their emblem, and all Yorkists similarly looked upon the White Rose. The wars, which troubled England for thirty years, are thus known as the "Wars of the Roses."

Map of England

The first battle in this struggle was fought in 1455, at St. Albans, where York defeated his enemies, and for a time secured control of the government. Four years later, however, Queen Margaret attacked the Yorkists with superior forces; and York was obliged to flee to Ireland, while his son Edward, and Warwick, fled to Calais, in France. In a Parliament which was unfairly elected, Queen Margaret then had York and his friends "attainted" of treason—that is, they were made outlaws, and their lives and goods declared forfeited.

Next year, York returned from Ireland, and his son and Warwick from Calais. Warwick found the King's army fortified in a meadow near Northampton. But a heavy rain flooded the meadow and made their cannon useless, while some of the Lancastrian forces deserted; so Warwick won an easy victory. King Henry was captured and taken to London; and it is said that the city "gave to God great praise and thanking" for the victory. A new Parliament then repealed the "attainders" of the previous year, and decided that King Henry should keep the crown so long as he lived, but that, after his death, it should go to the Duke of York and his descendants.

After the battle of Northampton, Queen Margaret and the little six year old Prince were in great danger. They fell into the hands of some Yorkists, and were robbed of their goods and insulted and threatened. But a fourteen year old squire took pity on them, and while their captors quarreled over the booty, he said:

"Madam, mount you behind me, and my lord the Prince before me, and I will save you or die."

So they escaped, all three riding on one horse.

At another time, the Queen and her little son took refuge in wood, where they were found by a brigand of fierce and terrible appearance. But the Queen told her rank, and placing her boy in the robber's hands said: "Save the son of your King!"

The man proved faithful, and at length the Queen and the little Prince reached friends and safety.

Richard of York was not left long in enjoyment of his victory over his opponents. On the last day of December, 1460, another battle was fought at Wakefield, in the north of England. York was taken by his enemies "like a fish in a net," and fell fighting at the head of his men. The cruel practice, which Warwick had introduced, of putting to death the leaders of the other party, was now followed by the Lancastrians, and many leading Yorkists were slaughtered. The bloody head of the Duke of York was set over the gate of a near-by town, and was crowned in mockery with a paper crown.

With a large army of rude northerners, Margaret then advanced southward. They came, says a chronicler, "robbing all the country and people, and spoiling abbeys and houses of religion, and churches; and they bare away communion cups, books, and other ornaments, as if they had been pagans and not Christian men." They again defeated the Yorkists, and rescued the captive King, to his great joy. But the citizens of London declared against them, and Margaret's army soon retreated northward, still plundering as they went.

Meanwhile York's eldest son, now nineteen years old, had fought his way from Wales to London, and had joined Warwick. "And there," says a chronicler, "he took upon him the crown of England, by the advice of the Lords spiritual and temporal, and by the election of the Commons." He was crowned as Edward IV.—the first of the Yorkist Kings.

The new King was tall, strong, and handsome; he was a much better general than Warwick, but not so good a statesman. His first task was to pursue Queen Margaret's army, which he overtook at Towton, not far from Wakefield.

Edward IV

As the battle began, a snow-storm set in, which so blinded the Lancastrians that they discharged all their arrows before the Yorkists came within good range. Then Edward's men pressed on—with swords, battle-axes, daggers, and deadly hammers of lead, which even helmets of iron could not withstand. Both sides fought desperately, and no prisoners were taken. In the end, the victory was won by King Edward. King Henry and his Queen escaped to Scotland; but four years later the poor dethroned King was captured and again imprisoned in the Tower. Edward IV. was now recognized by foreign powers as England's ruler.

Plate Armor of the Fifteenth Century

Soon quarrels arose between the new King and the man who had made him King. Warwick was greedy of wealth, influence and power. He kept so many followers that "when he came to London he held such a house that six oxen were eaten at a breakfast, and every tavern was full of his meat, for who had any acquaintance in that house he should have as much boiled and roast as he might carry upon a long dagger." Edward offended Warwick by secretly marrying beneath his rank. Then, to build up a party against Warwick, Edward ennobled and promoted his wife's relatives. Warwick won over to his side Edward's weak brother, the Duke of Clarence. In addition to all else, King Edward and Warwick differed over foreign policy; for Warwick wisely wished England to remain at peace with France, while Edward wanted to renew the French war.

At last, in 1470, Warwick's friends rebelled, and were defeated in a battle, for which they fled so hastily that it was called "Lose-coat Field." Warwick and Clarence took refuge at the court of the King of France, where they found Queen Margaret and her son. The French King caused these former enemies to be friends; and in September, 1470, Warwick returned to England, with an army, to drive Edward from the throne and restore the Lancastrian line.

Warwick Castle

For a time everything went well with Warwick. Edward's troops deserted him, and he was forced to flee to Flanders.

Henry VI. was then replaced on the throne, and "all his good lovers were glad, and the most part of the people."

But in March, 1471, Edward returned, and his brother, the Duke of Clarence, joined him. At Barnet, a few miles north of London, the battle was fought. Edward was completely successful, and Warwick was slain as he left the field.

On the very day of the battle of Barnet, Queen Margaret and her son landed in the west of England, and soon they were at the head of a considerable army. A few weeks later the Queen's forces met the Yorkist forces at Tewkesbury. There King Edward fought and won the last battle needed to secure his possession of the crown. The Lancastrian Prince, who had become a fine young man of eighteen years, was captured after the battle, and was cruelly put to death. Queen Margaret was allowed to return to France, where she died some years later. As for poor Henry VI., who played so feeble a part in all these struggles, he was murdered in the Tower on the very day that King Edward returned to London.

Tower of London

So long as King Edward lived, there was no renewal of the war. The townsmen and common people were glad to have peace at any price, and willingly submitted to the strong rule of the King. The nobles were so weakened by the wars that they could not resist. To end the troubles within his own family, the King charged his brother—"false, fleeting, perjured Clarence"—with treason, and had him put to death.

This hard, unscrupulous, pleasure-loving King died in 1483, leaving two sons, Edward and Richard, the one twelve years old, and the other ten. The elder of these was at once proclaimed King, as Edward V.; and his uncle, Richard of Gloucester became "Protector," or ruler in the young King's name.

Gloucester was a monster of cunning and cruelty, and set to work to rob his nephew of the crown.

He imprisoned and executed the chief supporters of the young King. Then he had it announced that he was the true heir to the throne, and began to reign in his own name. The little Princes were shut up in the Tower of London, and soon disappeared—murdered by the orders of their cruel uncle. In this way, began the brief reign of Richard III., the last of the Yorkist kings, whom the poet Shakespeare represents with a crooked back, to match his cruel and crooked mind.

Richard III

But punishment followed fast upon this wicked King. Old Yorkists joined with what was left of the Lancastrian party, and soon a great conspiracy was on foot. They planned to make Henry Tudor (a distant relative of Henry VI.) King, and marry him to Elizabeth of York, the daughter of Edward IV.

Henry's first expedition from France failed because of storms and floods; but a second expedition, in 1485, brought him safely to land in Wales.

At Bosworth field he was met by King Richard, and there was fought the last battle of the Wars of the Roses. The Red Rose of Lancaster triumphed over the White Rose of York. Richard's leading officers deserted him, and he died fighting in the front of the battle. His crown was picked up from the field, and set upon the head of Henry Tudor, who was proclaimed King as Henry VII. The marriage with Elizabeth of York followed, and the wise policy of Henry VII. united the interests of both Lancaster and York in the house of Tudor.

The long warfare for the crown was at last ended. The old nobility had suffered grievously through deaths on the field and at the block, and through confiscation of estates, and never again did its power seriously threaten the peace of England. The common people, however, had suffered little in the struggle, and a new era of peace and prosperity now dawned for England. Other forces, too, had for some time been changing the modes of life and thought in Europe. With the close of the Wars of the Roses, we may recognize the complete ending of the Middle Ages in England, and the establishing of the "Renaissance," which begins Modern History.

Topics for Thought and Search

Henry VII., and the Beginning of Modern Times

The word "Renaissance" means "rebirth," and we use it to name the period when men's minds awakened to new activities after the slumbers of the Middle Ages.

It took the form of new interest in the literature, art, and philosophy of ancient Greece and Rome, for in these men found the same spirit of free inquiry, and the same appreciation of beauty, which they now felt within their own breasts. With this "revival of learning," as it is called, came also a development of painting, sculpture, and architecture. Gunpowder and the compass, were introduced from the East; printing was invented; Columbus and Vasco da Gama discovered America and the ocean route to India; and correct ideas of the earth's form and place in the solar system began to replace the mistaken ideas of the Middle Ages.

In every line, men's minds worked more freely and more accurately, and the result was a rapid change in almost every line of human endeavor.

This movement began in Italy, about one hundred and fifty years before Henry VII. became King. Gradually it spread from that land to the countries north of the Alps, and by the time of Henry VII. the movement was making itself felt in England also. A few Italian scholars had come to England, and a few Englishmen had gone to Italy, to study there, and bring back to England the newly revived learning. Then, from the University of Oxford as a center, there slowly spread, in England, a knowledge of Greek, a sounder understanding of the old Latin masterpieces, and a more sensible way of looking at all questions.

The Tudor Rose

The invention of the art of printing did a great deal to aid the movement. In the Middle Ages all books were laboriously written with the pen, letter by letter, usually by monks or nuns; as a result, they were rare and expensive, and only a very few persons could learn what they had to teach. But, at about the time that the Wars of the Roses began, a German man named Gutenberg invented a method of casting movable metal types, and made possible the printing of a large number of copies of a book, with little more labor than it would require to write out by hand a single copy. Then the types could be separated, and used again for printing other books. The value of the new invention was at once seen. Before the century ended printing presses were set up in more than two hundred places.

The first to introduce the new art into England was William Caxton, a London cloth merchant who had lived in Flanders. While there he became interested in an old French book, which told the story of the siege of Troy by the Greeks more than two thousand years before that time. To please the Duchess of Burgundy, who was the sister of King Edward IV., Caxton completed a translation of the book into English. Then, since many people wanted copies of his translation, he learned the new art of printing, at the cost of much pain and expense, and printed it, under the name Histories of Troy. This was the very first book ever printed in the English language.

Early Printing Office

In 1477, Caxton returned to England, with type purchased abroad, and set up the first printing office in England. The first book printed there was The Sayings of the Philosophers.

In the fourteen years which followed, Caxton printed eighty separate books, including histories, stories, poems, and religious works; and twenty-one of these he himself translated from French into English.

By always using in his translations the cultivated speech which was used at London and the court, Caxton helped to fix the literary language of England. The dialects which were spoken in distant parts of the kingdom were so different, that it was often impossible for a person who came from one district to understand the speech of another. To show this, Caxton tells a story of some merchants sailing down the Thames river from London, who were becalmed at its mouth, and went ashore seeking provisions.

"And one of them," says Caxton, "came into a house, and asked for meat, and specially he asked for 'eggs.' The good wife answered the she could speak no French. And the merchant was angry, for he, also, could speak no French; but he would have eggs, and she understood him not. And then at last another said that he would have 'eyeren' (another word for eggs). Then the good wife understood what he wanted."

The differences in spelling and pronunciation were as great as the differences in words, and it was long before a standard of correct English was established.

It was in the reign of Henry VII., too, that Christopher Columbus sailed from Spain in the service of Queen Isabella, and discovered the New World of America. Soon after that (in 1497), Henry VII. sent forth a Venetian seaman, named John Cabot, with permission to sail "to all places, lands, and seas, of the East, West, and North," and discover what lands he could. After discovering land near the mouth of the St. Lawrence river (which was called "the New-found-land"), Cabot coasted along a part of the mainland of North America, and thus laid the foundation of the claim to this land which England put forth a hundred years later. In the account books of Henry VII., we may still read the entry: "To him that found the new isle, £10." This seems a small reward for so great a service; but Henry VII. was of money, and the value of the new discovery was then not known.

For many years Henry's chief attention was directed to putting down risings of the Yorkists.

Henry VII

In the first of these, a ten year old boy named Lambert Simnel was made to play the chief part. He was the son of a baker, but he was trained to act the part of a Yorkist prince who was then imprisoned in the Tower, but who was falsely said to have escaped. Simnel was crowned King at Dublin, in Ireland; and then, with Irish and German troops, a landing was made in England. Scarcely an Englishman joined the Yorkists, and their troops were easily defeated. Lambert Simnel was pardoned, and was made a "turn spit" in the King's kitchen. Lord Lovel, who was one of the leaders, disappeared. Long afterwards, in an underground chamber, some workman accidentally discovered the skeleton of a man seated in a chair with his head resting on a table; and this, it was said, was the body of the missing man, who had hidden there, and through the faithlessness of a servant was left to die of starvation.

A few years later another pretender appeared, in the person of a young man named Perkin Warbeck. He claimed to be the younger of the two sons of Edward IV., who really had been murdered in the Tower by Richard III. For five years he played this part, and was received in Ireland, Flanders, and in Scotland, where the Scottish King found him a wife of noble birth. But, in 1497, he rashly landed in England, and was speedily captured and shut up in the Tower. He soon escaped, with the real prince whom Lambert Simnel had impersonated; and Henry VII. seized the opportunity to rid himself of both rivals, the true and the false, by sending them to execution.

Elizabeth of York

Henry VII. had laws passed forbidding the practice known as "livery and maintenance," by which the great nobles kept at their call large bands of men, who wore the badges of their masters and were ready to support them, if need be, by force of arms. At one time the King visited the Earl of Oxford, who had been one of his strongest supporters. When he went away he found a great band of men, wearing the Earl's badge, drawn up to show him honor.

"I thank you for your good cheer," said Henry to the Earl, "but I cannot endure to have my laws broken in my sight. My attorney must speak with you."

For his disobedience to the law, the Earl was afterwards fined the great sum of £10,000.

Another means of breaking the power of the great lords was the development of a court, called (from the place where it met) the Court of Star Chamber. It was composed of high officers of the King's service, who could not be bribed or bullied, as the local juries could; and it did an excellent service in bringing to justice great men who escaped punishment in the ordinary courts. In later years, when the power of great lords no longer disturbed the land, other Kings made this court an instrument of tyranny, and it was then abolished.

Henry VII. died in 1509. He had ended the Wars of the Roses, increased the power of the crown, and gathered great sums of money into the royal treasury. But, most of all, he is to be remembered because it was in his time that the Renaissance was established in England, and the way was paved for the changes which produced the Reformation of the English Church.

Topics for Thought and Search

Henry VIII. and the Separation from Rome

Upon the death of his father, in 1509, Henry VIII. became King. He was a handsome youth of eighteen years, and was educated in the New Learning, as well as skilled in all manner of athletic games. Scholars believed that they at last had a King after their own heart; but he soon showed that the glory of war weighed more with him than the New Learning, and that the ruling motive of his life was to gratify his own will and his own pleasures.

Henry VIII

Three strong young Kings had begun to rule in western Europe within a few years of each other—Henry VIII. of England, Francis I. of France, and Charles of Spain.

From his grandparents, Ferdinand and Isabella, King Charles inherited Spain, Sicily, southern Italy, and the vast Spanish possessions in America and the Far East. From his father he received Holland and Belgium (called the Netherlands, or "Low Countries"). Then (in 1519), he was chosen Emperor, over both Francis I. and Henry VIII., and as Charles V. became the head of Germany also.

Already France and Spain had been at war over Italy; and now a new war broke out between them, which lasted (with some interruptions) for forty years.

Henry VIII., at first, sought to take advantage of this war to win back what he called "our inheritance of France." But a wiser mind than his own soon pointed out that it was to England's interest rather to maintain a balance of power between France and Spain, and in this way increase England's power among nations.

The man who gave this advice was Thomas Wolsey. He was the son of humble parents, but rose to be the first man in England, after the King. At the age of fifteen he was graduated from the University of Oxford; then, becoming a priest, he was appointed chaplain to Henry VIII. His energy and attention to business attracted the King's notice. When Henry sent him as a messenger to the Emperor, in Flanders, Wolsey made the journey and back in four days. When he presented himself before the King, Henry reproached him with his delay in starting. He then learned, to his surprise, that Wolsey had gone and returned. He informed Wolsey that he had sent after him a courier, with fuller instructions.

Wolsey

"Sire," replied Wolsey, "I met him on my way back, but I had already taken it upon myself to fulfill what I foresaw would be your intentions."

Such intelligence and industry won rapid advancement for Wolsey, and soon he was Henry's principal minister. He was made Chancellor of the kingdom, and Archbishop of York; and Henry secured from the Pope his appointment as Cardinal and the Pope's legate or representative in England. Soon all the business of the government passed through his hands. He conducted himself with haughtiness, and lived in great state. In this way, he made enemies of the ancient nobles, who considered him a low-born upstart. Not content with the position which he held in England, Wolsey planned, with the aid of Henry VIII. and the Emperor Charles V., to secure his own election as Pope, and thus win the highest position to which man might aspire. But the Emperor's promises were not sincerely meant, and Wolsey's hopes were disappointed.

Under Wolsey's skilful guidance, England was soon raised to a position of great importance. Her alliance was eagerly sought by both the King of France and the Emperor. In 1520, a great meeting took place, in France, between King Henry and King Francis, at the "Field of the Cloth of Gold." Henry VIII. came with 5,000 personal attendants, while his Queen brought 1,000. Stately palaces of wood were erected for the occasion in the flat meadows; and everything was more splendid than had ever before been seen. King Francis believed that he had gained his end, and that thenceforth England was his ally. But Wolsey steadily followed the policy of favoring now one and now the other party to the war, and so increased England's power and reputation.

Scene from a War of Henry VIII Against France

The end of Wolsey's rule is connected with King Henry's divorce, which introduced the Reformation into England.

When Henry VIII. became King, he married Catherine of Aragon, his older brother Arthur's widow. This marriage was against the law of the Church, but a "dispensation" was granted by the Pope, as head of the Church, which claimed to remove the difficulty. For many years, little more was thought of the matter; but, at last, Henry began to have doubts of the power of the Pope to grant such a "dispensation," and to question whether Catherine was really his wife. Perhaps he was influenced, too, by the fact that their only living child was a girl (later Queen Mary), and that it was doubtful whether a woman would be permitted to succeed him on the English throne. On the other hand, it is certain that he had grown tired of Catherine, and that he had shamelessly fallen in love with a young noblewoman of the court, named Anne Boleyn.

If the Pope had been willing to grant Henry a divorce, all might have been well. But, in addition to the great injustice which would thereby be done to Queen Catherine, there was the fact that she was the aunt of the Emperor Charles V., whom the Pope did not wish to offend. So, in spite of long negotiations, the Pope would not grant the divorce.

Then, in furious anger, Henry turned against his minister, Wolsey, who for fifteen years had served him faithfully and well. Unfortunately for himself, Wolsey was "feared by all, but loved by few or none at all." Henry VIII. dismissed him from his office of Chancellor, and confined him to his duties as Archbishop of York; and soon after this he had him arrested on a charge of treason. Wolsey's health and spirits were now broken; and he died, while on the road to London to be imprisoned in the Tower. In his last hours he said:

"Had I but served my God as faithfully as I have served the King, he would not have given me over in my old age!"

Failing to obtain a divorce from the Pope, the King obtained one from Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury; and soon it was announced that the King had married Anne Boleyn. The Pope was thus defied. All the ties which bound the English Church to Rome were now broken. Appeals to the Pope's courts were forbidden; all payments to Rome were stopped; and the Pope's authority in England was abolished. By act of Parliament Henry was declared "Supreme head of the Church of England." To deny this title was made an act of treason.

Parliament also made a series of reforms of practical abuses in the Church. The laws which protected clergymen who committed crimes (called "benefit of the clergy") were done away with, and many payments to the clergy were discontinued. Also, the Bible was translated into English, and printed copies were placed in the churches. To prevent their being carried off, the great heavy volumes were chained to the reading desks. In St. Paul's church, London, six copies were provided, but even this number was not sufficient. The practice arose of having some one read aloud from one of the Bibles; and "many well-disposed people," we are told, "used to resort to the hearing thereof, especially when they could get anyone who had a good voice to read to them."

More important than these charges was the breaking up of the monasteries. In spite of the vows of "poverty" taken by the monks as individuals the monasteries had become very wealthy; and with wealth had come idleness and moral decay. The monasteries were said to be dens of vice and evil living; but no doubt the desire to obtain monastery lands and goods was a powerful motive in the attack. Parliament took the King's word for the abuses and ordered first the smaller monasteries, and then all of them, to be dissolved, and the monks and nuns to be scattered. Their lands and goods were turned over to the King.

Thus one of the greatest features of the mediæval Church was wiped out in England. In the northern part of the kingdom, the people rose in rebellion in favor of the monks; but their "Pilgrimage of Grace," as it was called, was put down with bloody cruelty. The lands of the dispossessed monks were largely given to favorites of the King. Thus a large part of the nobles and gentry became financially interested in continuing the separation from the Roman Church.

In Germany and Switzerland, meanwhile, a religious Reformation, much deeper than that in England, had been growing and spreading. Martin Luther, a German monk and university professor, protested against the sale of "indulgences," by which it was claimed that the Pope wiped out the penalty of sin without real repentance on the part of the sinner. The dispute widened, until Luther threw off all obedience to the Pope, and carried out a reform of the German church which touched not only its government, but also its doctrine  or teaching, and its ritual  or worship. Unlike that in England, the "Protestant" movement in Germany and Switzerland began with the people, not the rulers, and was mainly religious, not political, in its motives.

It was not long before these Protestant ideas began to spread into England also. One who opposed them wrote that "even the chiefest and most weighty matters of our religion and faith are called in question, babbled, talked, and jangled upon." Although Henry VIII. had reformed the government  of the Church in England to suit his convenience, he would not permit changes to be made in its doctrine. Indeed, before he began his divorce suit, he wrote so well against Luther that the Pope granted him the title, "Defender of the Faith,"—a title which his successors still bear!

Accordingly, Henry VIII. now persecuted equally the Catholics who would not go as far as he did, and Protestants who went further. His most important victim, for religion's sake, was Sir Thomas More, a learned and noble-minded Englishman, who was Henry's Chancellor, after Wolsey's fall. As Chancellor, More had put to death Protestants, and now it was his turn to suffer death, on a charge of treason, for denying that the King was the supreme head of the Church of England. His gentle bearing and courage on the scaffold aroused the pity and admiration of all. As he laid his head on the block, he moved his beard aside, saying with sad humor:

"It is a pity that that should be cut which has committed no treason."

Henry VIII. did not content himself with putting to death those who differed from him in religion. He was six times married, and two of his wives were executed. Anne Boleyn bore the King one child, the Princess Elizabeth; then after a few brief years she lost the King's favor, and was put to death on a charge of unfaithfulness. A few days later, the King married his third wife, who died in little more than a year, after having given to Henry his only son—the future Edward VI. Henry's fourth wife behaved badly, and she, too, was executed—perhaps justly.

Then Thomas Cromwell, who, after Wolsey and More, was the King's chief minister, brought about a marriage between Henry VIII. and a Protestant German princess; to whom, however, Henry took such a dislike that he divorced her at the earliest possible moment. Cromwell had been a faithful, though unscrupulous, minister to the King; but for making this unsatisfactory marriage, he was now condemned unheard, and sent to the block. With equal bloodthirstiness, every possible rival to the throne was put to death; and thus order and peace was kept in the land.

In his later years, Henry VIII. became very fat, and grew feeble in health. His sixth wife, strange to say, outlived him. He died in 1547, after ruling for thirty-eight important years. He was a strong King, but was wholly selfish and cruel. England prospered greatly in his time, both at home and abroad. His reign is chiefly to be remembered as the time when the old ties were broken which bound the English Church to Rome; but it was not until after his death that changes were made in the doctrine and worship of the Church.

Topics for Thought and Search

The Reformation Established

Henry VIII.'s successor was his only son, Edward VI., who at the time of his father's death was but nine years old. In the Council, which carried on the government till he should come of age, the Duke of Somerset, who was the young King's uncle, speedily gained control and took the title of Protector. He was opposed to harsh government, and had many good ideas; but he tried to do everything at once, and so did nothing well.

Edward VI

Under Somerset's rule, Protestant changes were rapidly made. Church images were pulled down, pictures of saints and angels were whitewashed over, and many of the old customs and holy days were suppressed. The Church service was changed from the Catholic "mass-service," in Latin, to a Protestant "preaching service," in the English tongue.

Following the example which was set by the German and Swiss reformers, the English clergy were permitted to marry.

These changes went further than most Englishmen of that day wanted, so there was much discontent on religious grounds. Other grievances also existed, of another kind.

The old "common lands," on which each villager had the right to pasture his cattle, were being fenced in by the lords of the manors; and the old "open fields," devoted to the raising of grain, were giving place to "inclosures," in which the lords carried on sheep-raising. Since it took fewer men to herd sheep than it did to till the soil, many men were thus thrown out of work, and the problem of the "unemployed" first began to trouble the government.

"Our captain's name is Poverty," said the leader of a band of rioters in the reign of Henry VIII., "for he and his cousin Necessity hat brought us to this doing."

Sir Thomas More was one of many who saw the evils of these changes.

"Your sheep," he said, "that used to be so meek and tame, and such small eaters, have now become such great devourers, and so wild, that they eat up and swallow down the very men themselves. They consume, destroy, and devour whole fields, houses, and cities."

As a result, rebellions broke out in England: in the West, to restore the religious laws of Henry VIII.; and in the East, chiefly for these agricultural reasons. Both movements were put down, but they had the effect of seriously weakening Somerset's government.

Somerset's policy towards Scotland was also unsuccessful.

Henry VIII.'s elder sister had been married to the King of the Scots, in the hope of bringing the two countries together. But, in 1513, he was defeated and slain in battle, while invading England. In 1542 his son was likewise defeated while attacking England. This King died soon afterward, leaving his throne to his five year old daughter, Mary Stuart.

This was the condition when Somerset interfered in the affairs of Scotland. Somerset's object was partly to aid the Reformation there, and partly to marry Edward VI. to the young Queen of Scotland. In the battle of Pinkie, the English won a great victory over the Scots; but it destroyed all hope of carrying out the marriage.

"We mislike not the match," said one of the Scots, "but the manner of the wooing."

The little Queen of the Scots was sent over to France, where she was reared as a Catholic, and was married to the future King of that country. Much trouble came to England, in later days, as a result of these events.

Both at home and abroad, Somerset's rule was thus a failure. The result was that the Council determined to remove him. His power passed to his rival, the Duke of Northumberland. Soon after this, Somerset was put to death on a charge of treason.

Northumberland was an able and ambitious man. As a means of keeping his power, and of enriching himself and friends, he favored the Protestants and continued the work of the Reformation. But he cared little for religion, and at the end of his life he claimed that he had been a Catholic all the time.

The young King had now become a lad of fifteen years, and was more than usually bright and well educated. But unfortunately he fell into a sickness, and it soon became evident that he would never live to take the rule into his own hands. The next heir to the throne was his half-sister, Mary, the daughter of Catherine of Aragon. Northumberland, however, plotted to exclude her, and to raise Lady Jane Grey to the throne. Lady Jane was the granddaughter of Henry VIII.'s younger sister, and had been married to Northumberland's son, Lord Guilford Dudley.

Lady Jane Gray

Lady Jane was a beautiful, noble-minded girl of sixteen. She had applied herself so well to her studies that she knew Latin, Greek, French, and Italian. She was persuaded by Northumberland that it was her duty to take the throne. So, when Edward VI. died, in 1553, she permitted Northumberland to proclaim her Queen. As the proclamation was being read, an apprentice had bravely cried out: "The Lady Mary has the better title!"

This, indeed, was the general opinion of the nation.

Mary escaped those who were sent to seize her, and soon her party was so strong that Northumberland was obliged to submit. Lady Jane Grey's reign lasted only ten days.

Queen Mary caused the wicked Duke of Northumberland to be executed. For some months she allowed Lady Jane and her young husband to live quietly in honorable captivity. But when rebellions broke out against Mary's rule, as they soon did, Lady Jane and her husband, with many other political prisoners, were promptly put to death.

At the beginning of her reign, Queen Mary was one of the most popular rulers that England ever had. At the end of it she was one of the most hated. This change in the feelings of her subjects was mainly due to a foreigner, and her persecution of Protestants.

Queen Mary

Her mother's unjust divorce, and her own inclinations, made Queen Mary a zealous Catholic. This led her to accept eagerly the proposal that she should marry Philip II. of Spain, who succeeded his father, Charles V., as head of the Catholics of Europe. Englishmen disliked this marriage, partly because they were foolishly jealous of all foreigners, but still more because they feared that it would cause them to lose the advantages of their island position, and to take an active part in the wars between France and Spain. Nevertheless, the marriage took place.

As soon as she could do so, Mary caused the religious laws of her brother's and father's reigns to be repealed. The Catholic religion and the authority of the Pope were thus restored, and a few monasteries were refounded. But Mary found it necessary to leave most of the monastery lands, and other goods of the Church, in the hands of those who possessed them. The laws for punishing heretics were also revived, and many Protestants suffered death for their religion, as Catholics had done in the reign of Henry VIII.

The most noted victim of this persecution was Archbishop Cranmer of Canterbury. He granted Henry VIII. his divorce from Catherine of Aragon, and had been the leader of the Protestant party under Edward VI. In hope of saving his life, Cranmer for a time "recanted," and said that all that he had taught contrary to the Roman Catholic church was false, and that only in the church was there any hope of salvation. Catholics wished to weaken the Reformation by having him repeat his recantation when he was led to the stake. But when Cranmer saw that his submission would not save his life, he regained his courage.

"Forasmuch as my hand offended in writing contrary to my heart," he cried, "it shall be first burned."

And, true to his word, when the fire was kindled about him, he thrust his right hand into the flames. In spite of his wavering, he made a good end, and the bravery with which he and many others met their deaths strengthened the Protestant cause.

Queen Mary was bitterly disappointed because she had no children. Her husband, too, who was much younger than she, neglected her, and spent most of the time away from England. A mortal illness, moreover, soon seized upon her. As her misfortunes increased, the poor Queen's half-crazed mind sought to please God by sending more and more Protestants to the stake. The number of those who suffered death in the five years of her reign has been reckoned at about 270. The result was a wave of horror and disgust which swept over England, and greatly aided the final triumph of the Protestant cause.

To complete Mary's unpopularity, the assistance which she gave her husband in his wars with France led to the loss of Calais, which had been England's outpost across the Channel since the days of Edward III. Its loss was no real injury to England, but it was the last blow needed to complete her unhappiness. She died nine months later—one of the saddest figures which that age of conflict could show.

Her half-sister, Elizabeth (Ann Boleyn's daughter), now came to the throne, and began a glorious reign of forty-five years.

Elizabeth at this time was twenty-five years old. She spoke several languages well, and could read Latin and Greek. She had a strong will, and had learned self-control. From her training, and because her right to the throne depended on the legality of Ann Boleyn's marriage to Henry VIII., Elizabeth was inclined to the Protestant cause. Her policy had two objects in view for England. One was to keep the country from war; and the other was to establish a united national Church, free from all foreign control.

In carrying out these policies, Elizabeth's chief adviser was William Cecil, whom she made Lord Burleigh. When she chose him as her Secretary of State, she said: "This judgment I have of you, that you will not be corrupted with any manner of gifts, and that you will be faithful to the state." Her choice was justified by the thirty years of faithful service which he gave.

Elizabeth caused Parliament to repeal the religious laws of Queen Mary, and to establish a moderate reformation of the English Church. An Act of Supremacy was passed which denied the Pope's control over the Church. It required all officers to take an oath acknowledging the Queen as "the only supreme governor of this realm as well in all ecclesiastical things or causes as temporal." The Latin mass-service in the Church was again abolished, and the service in English, as arranged in the time of Edward VI., was restored. It was published in the Prayer Book, which is still used in the Episcopal Church. Clergymen who refused to use the Prayer Book, and laymen who stayed way from church services where it was used, were severely punished. Finally, the beliefs of the English church were settled in accordance with Protestant views, and were published in the Thirty-Nine Articles, which are still the official belief of the English or Episcopal Church.

All but one of the bishops refused to accept these changes, and new bishops were appointed in their places. Almost all of the lower clergy, however, accepted the changes, with as little opposition as they had made when Mary restored the Catholic religion, five years before. The nobles and people generally received the changes with rejoicing.

Here, as in other matters, Queen Elizabeth seemed to know just how far her people were willing to go, and shaped her laws to meet the general wishes of the nation. This was one of her strong points as a ruler, as it had been of her father, Henry VIII.—with all of his self-will and tyranny. The Tudor rulers were despots, and their Parliaments were usually packed with persons named by them. But their despotism rested upon the consent of the people, and, in any important matter, they rarely went beyond what their people wished.

With these religious laws of Elizabeth, the Reformation period in England comes to an end. There were still unsettled questions relating to the Church, and both Elizabeth and her successors had much difficulty in dealing with those who wished to restore the Catholic religion, and with Protestants who wished to depart farther from Catholicism. But these efforts, in the end, were unsuccessful, and the religion of the Church of England is today very much as it was established at the beginning of the reign of "good Queen Bess."

Topics for Thought and Search

England Under Elizabeth

Queen Elizabeth's reign is notable, not only for the establishing of the Reformation in England, but for other events which made a deep impression on the minds of the people. These were the execution of Mary Queen of Scots, and the defeat of the great Spanish fleet, called the Armada. In order to understand these two events, we must understand the dangers by which Elizabeth was all her life surrounded, from foes abroad, and from hostile parties at home.

Queen Elizabeth

Perhaps you may ask: "Why was it that Philip II. of Spain did not interfere in England, while it was under Elizabeth, to protect the Catholics, and to put down the Protestant religion?"

The answer is that he was so jealous of France that he preferred to see England become Protestant rather than see it Catholic under France.

Mary Stuart, Queen of the Scots (as you will remember), had been married to the son of the French King; so, when he became King in turn (as he did the year after Elizabeth became Queen of England), the two kingdoms of France and Scotland were united under French rule. Queen Mary claimed to be the rightful ruler of England, also, on the ground that Elizabeth's father and mother were not truly married, and so the throne should go to herself as the nearest lawful heir.

It was this claim that Philip II. feared to see established, for it would make France so powerful that Spain would be completely overshadowed. He took Elizabeth under his protection, and even proposed to marry her, though to this Elizabeth could not consent. Mary's French husband soon died, and she returned to Scotland as a young widow of nineteen. But Philip II. could still be counted upon to aid Elizabeth in checking any movement to enforce Mary's claim to the throne of England, because Queen Mary leaned on French support.

All this made Elizabeth the enemy of the Queen of Scots. In addition, Elizabeth was foolishly jealous of her, because Mary was younger and more lovely than Elizabeth. But it was Mary's own imprudence and misconduct that finally put her completely in Elizabeth's power.

Scotland was now in the midst of a Reformation of the church which was more thoroughly Protestant than that which had taken place in England. Its teachings came from John Calvin, a religious reformer in Geneva, Switzerland. The Church government there became more democratic than that which was established in England, for it put the chief power in the hands of "presbyters," or elders, instead of bishops. The chief preacher of this "Presbyterian" reform in Scotland was John Knox, a bold but harsh preacher, of whom it was said that "one mass-service was more fearful to him than ten thousand armed enemies."

In order to strengthen her position on the throne, Queen Mary married her worthless cousin, Lord Darnley, who was Catholic. This act offended Protestant lords. A son was born to Mary; nevertheless she and her husband bitterly quarreled. The Protestant lords formed a plot to get rid of Darnley, and one night the house in which he was recovering from a spell of sickness was blown up. The next morning his dead body was found in a near-by field—strangled. A fierce, bullying lord, named Bothwell, was chiefly responsible for the murder; but he was so powerful that the attempt to punish him was given up. Mary was passionately in love with Bothwell, and, ten weeks after the murder of her husband, she allowed herself to be carried off and married to him. Her subjects then rebelled, drove Bothwell from the kingdom, made her infant son King as James VI., and shut her up in prison. Soon, however, Mary contrived to escape, through the aid of a young page, and to raise an army. When she was finally defeated in battle, she fled into England, to ask aid from her enemy, Elizabeth, in recovering her forfeited throne.

Gold Coin of Elizabeth

Elizabeth did not wish to encourage rebels to revolt against her ruler, but she could not let Mary go. As one of her courtiers said, she now "held the wolf that wished to devour her." "Why does the Queen of Scotland seem so dangerous to you?" one of Mary's friends asked Elizabeth.

"Because she is a Papist," the English Queen replied, "and wishes to succeed to my throne."

The Scots sent to Elizabeth letters which they claimed had been left by Bothwell, in a silver casket, when he fled. If these "Casket Letters" were genuine, they proved that Mary had had a part in Darnley's death, and so was guilty with Bothwell of his murder. Without deciding this question, Elizabeth ordered Mary to be kept prisoner, and from that day until her death on the scaffold, eighteen years later, the Queen of Scots remained in honorable confinement in Elizabeth's castles.

Many Englishmen did not think that this was enough. So long as Mary lived, conspirators were at work trying to stir up rebellion, which would dethrone Elizabeth—and possibly murder her—and give the crown to Mary. Mary knew of some of these plots, and encouraged them. At one time she sent this message to the Spanish ambassador in England:

"Tell your master that if he will help me, I shall be Queen of England in three months, and mass shall be said throughout the land."

To aid Mary's cause, the Pope excommunicated Elizabeth, and declared her subjects to be freed from their oaths of allegiance. This forced English Catholics to choose between obedience to their Church and their duty to their Queen. France and Spain had now made up their quarrel, and were ready to aid in restoring England to the list of Catholic countries. Catholic priests came into England from France, at the peril of their lives, to convert the people; and some of these were engaged in the conspiracies against Elizabeth. After the failure of one of these plots the Protestant nobles of England formed a great "association," binding themselves to avenge any attempt against the life of their Queen. Soon after this, Parliament passed a law providing that any one in whose favor a plot should be made should be put to death. This law was directed against Mary of Scotland; nevertheless, her friends paid no attention to the warning, and the plotting continued.

Positive proof of a new plot was soon obtained, and then at last Mary herself was brought to trial. It was not clearly proved that she had given any encouragement to the attempts against the Queen's life, yet she had taken part in the conspiracy to dethrone the Queen. The law considered her guilty, and she was sentenced to death. After much hesitation, Elizabeth signed the death warrant, and Mary was beheaded, in February, 1587. She went to her execution with the courage of a martyr.

"Cease to lament," said she to one of her attendants, "for you shall now see a final end to Mary Stuart's troubles. I pray you, take this message when you go—that I die true to my religion, to Scotland, and to France."

Many English Catholics had supported Mary Stuart's claims to the English throne. But when she passed these on to Philip II. of Spain (as she did at her death), all Englishmen united to oppose him. Spain at this time ruled Mexico, the West Indies, and the greater part of South America, and claimed the sole right to settle and trade in those regions. This claim the English sailors had refused to recognize. They crossed the Atlantic, traded wherever they liked, and fought and captured Spanish treasure ships. Many of them were little better than pirates, and grew rich by kidnapping slaves in Africa and selling them to the Spanish colonists.

The greatest of these English captains was Sir Francis Drake. On one of his expeditions to the West Indies, he visited the mainland of North America, where he found and rescued a small body of English colonists, who had been sent out by Sir Walter Raleigh. On another voyage, he rounded Cape Horn, and attacked the Spanish colonies on the west coast of South America, where he secured an immense amount of gold, silver, and precious stones. In returning to England, he sailed across the Pacific and around the cape of Good Hope. A Spanish expedition under Magellan had sailed around the world sixty years before; but Drake, in this voyage, was the first Englishman to accomplish that feat. By such acts as his, the hatred between the Spanish and English was steadily increased.

Drake's Ship, the Golden Hind

When, therefore, Philip of Spain made ready to seize the crown of England, and re-establish there the Catholic religion, all England was aroused. Philip collected a great fleet, which was called the "Invincible Armada." With this, he intended to send a great army into England, partly from Spain and partly from the Netherlands. Before the expedition was ready, Sir Frances Drake, with thirty small ships, sailed boldly into the Spanish harbor of Cadiz, and destroyed the ships and supplies there. Drake called this "singeing the Spanish King's beard." By this brave deed, the sailing of the Armada was delayed until the next year.

To resist the Spanish attack, the English collected ships from all their coast towns, and mustered an army near London. When the Spanish fleet appeared in the English Channel, the news was flashed by bonfires from hilltop to hilltop, all over the kingdom. The Armada consisted of 132 vessels, many of them great high-decked ships, crowded with men. Some were galleys rowed by oars, such as had been used in the Mediterranean Sea since the ancient days of Greece and Rome. The English fleet, under Lord Howard and Sir Francis Drake, numbered 198 vessels, most of them smaller than in the Armada, but swifter, better sailers, and manned by more skilful seamen and better gunners.

The English allowed the Armada to pass by, and then followed it up the Channel. For a whole week, from Plymouth to Calais, the English hung upon the rear of the Spaniards, now advancing, now nimbly retiring, but always fighting, and "plucking the feathers" of the great Armada one by one. The Armada dropped anchor at Calais, to get news of the army which they were to escort from the Netherlands to England. The English, however, sent into the harbor six blazing fire-ships, which they had prepared, and the Spaniards were forced to cut their cables and put out to sea. After another all-day fight, the Spaniards turned northward, sailing before a southerly breeze. They failed to take on the army to invade England, and already the expedition was a failure.

Worse, however, was to follow. Storms came, and scores of the clumsy Spanish vessels were dashed to pieces, while trying to round the northern coasts of Scotland and Ireland. Out of the splendid fleet which set sail with such confidence, only fifty-three vessels returned to Spain. Philip II. did not blame his admiral for this disaster. "I sent you to fight against men," said he, "and not with the winds."

The defeat of the Armada freed the English from their fear of Spain. It did more. The whole nation now shared the spirit of men like Drake, and the foundations were soon laid of the trade, colonial empire, and sea power which make England "the mistress of the seas." The power of Spain now rapidly declined.

Toward the close of Elizabeth's reign, the religious question again came to the front. The trouble was no longer with the Catholics, but with the extreme Protestants, who wanted to go further in reform. They were not satisfied with the moderate Protestant position which Elizabeth had taken, but wished to do away with nearly everything used by the Catholic church in its worship—priestly robes, images, painted windows, incense, candles, and the like. They also wished to end the rule of the bishops in the Church. They were called "Puritans," because they wished to purify the Church. Some Puritans even wished to do away with any united church, established for the whole country, and to form separate congregations, each independent of the others. These are called "Separatists," or "Independents."

Elizabeth was as despotic as her father, and would not permit anything which looked like disobedience to the laws which she had established. Puritans were fined heavily for staying away from church, and when they attempted to hold meeting of their own, these were severely put down. Thus Elizabeth persecuted Puritans on the one hand, while, on the other, Catholics were being fined, imprisoned, and even put to death. There was this difference, however: in the earlier part of her reign Catholics were often plotting for her downfall; but the spirit among the Puritans was shown by one of their number, who was condemned to lose his right hand for writing against the bishops, and who nevertheless, waving his hat with the hand that was left to him, cried, "God save the Queen."

State Carriages of Elizabeth's Time

We must not close the account of the reign of Elizabeth without a few words concerning the great writers which it produced. In no other reign did literature flourish as it did under "good Queen Bess." Poets, playwriters, and essayists abounded; while, in the person of Sir Francis Bacon, England could boast one of the greatest philosophers.

Among all the writers of the Elizabethan era, William Shakespeare stands first. He was born of poor parents, at Stratford on the river Avon, in the year 1564. He received a grammar school education, and went to London, where he became an actor and writer of plays. He died in 1616. He was the greatest play writer of modern times, and one of the greatest poets. His plays have been translated into many languages. They are still acted many times every year, and the books containing them are found in all libraries. His plays include both comedies and tragedies; they picture all kinds of life, and show men and women acting under all kinds of emotions. Sayings taken from his plays are almost as common today as those from the Bible.

Queen Elizabeth did not live to see all of Shakespeare's plays, for when he was at his best she was already old. To the end of her life, she remained England's "Virgin Queen." She had many suitors for her hand, and it gratified her vanity to have them about her; but she could marry neither foreigner nor Englishman, neither Catholic nor Protestant, without offending some of her subjects. Any marriage, moreover, would endanger the exercise of that independent power which was so dear to Elizabeth's heart. So, in the end, she never married at all, although she long talked about it, and was urged again and again by her subjects to do so, in order that the succession to the throne might be settled.

The character of Elizabeth was a mixture of great and little qualities. She was so vain and extravagant that she had 3,000 gowns of strange fashion, and eighty wigs of different colored hair. She used to paint her face to hide the marks of age. She was not truthful, and her conduct in many ways revealed the coarseness of her time. On the other hand, she had the wisdom to chose good advisers; and however vain and selfish she might seem, she always had the interests of England at heart.

"There will never Queen sit in my seat," she once said to Parliament, "with more zeal to my country, or care to my subjects. And though you have had, and may have, many princes more mighty and more wise sitting in this seat, yet you never had, nor shall have, any that will be more careful or loving."

She saw England grow from a divided to a united nation, and from a weak to a great state; and in this growth she had the chief part.

She died at the age of seventy. When asked at the last to settle the succession to the throne, she said:

"I will have no rascal's son in my seat, but one worthy to be a King."

And when further pressed to declare her wishes, she added:

"And who should this be, but our cousin of Scotland."

So Mary Stuart's son, who was a Protestant, and was known as James VI. of Scotland, succeeded at last to the throne of the great Elizabeth.

Topics for Thought and Search

James I., The First Stuart King

Under the Tudor rulers, the English people submitted to arbitrary rule because great dangers threatened both church and state. In the time of the Stuart Kings, these dangers were past. The attempt of the Stuarts to rule despotically led, therefore, to a series of quarrels between King and Parliament which resulted in civil war, the execution of one King, the expulsion of another, and the final loss by the Stuarts of the crowns of both England and Scotland.

In England, Mary Stuart's son was known as James I., though he continued to be James VI. of Scotland. He was well educated, shrewd, witty, and a lover of peace; but he lacked dignity, was physically a coward, and could never say "No" to his favorites. A foreigner at his court, in Scotland, gave this description of him:

James I

"He speaks, eats, dresses, and plays like a boor. He is never still for a moment, but walks perpetually up and down the room. His walk is sprawling and awkward, and his voice loud. He prefers hunting to all other amusements, and will be six hours together on horseback. He is very conceited, and he underrates other princes."

His great learning, together with this foolish conduct, led a French statesman to call him "the wisest fool in Christendom."

One of James's first acts was to try to unite the two kingdoms of England and Scotland into one. Englishmen, however, were jealous both of the favors which James showed to this Scotch subjects and of their trading rights. The attempt failed, and it was not until a hundred years later (1707) that England and Scotland were united under one Parliament.

The religious question gave James I. most trouble. English Puritans expected James to support them, because he came from a Presbyterian country. But James was so greatly displeased with Presbyterianism in Scotland that, when one of the English Puritans mentioned the word "presbyter," he burst out:

"If this be all your party have to say for themselves, I will make them conform to the Church, or I will harry them out of the land."

By this attitude James pleased the bishops, but made all Puritans his opponents.

Some small bands of Separatists took the King at his word, and left England for Holland. After a few years (1620) they passed to America, and founded Plymouth Colony. Virginia also, was founded in King James's time (1607), but this was from motives of gain, not religion. Under James's son, Charles I., the colonies of Massachusetts, New Hampshire, Connecticut, Rhode Island, and Maryland were founded.

We cannot tell the story here of these first beginnings of a new world of English-speaking peoples across the sea; but we must not forget that it was one of the greatest events of that time.

Catholics, too, had hoped that King James would relieve them from the oppressive laws which Elizabeth had made against their religion. When this hope was disappointed, plots were formed against the King. Sir Walter Raleigh—a famous man of Elizabeth's reign, who was no Catholic, but was disappointed at not being taken into James's service—was accused and convicted of being engaged in one of these plots, and for thirteen years he was imprisoned in the Tower of London. Then he was allowed to set forth on a gold hunting expedition to South America. When he failed in his quest, and attacked the Spaniards, King James had him put to death under his old sentence. Before laying his head upon the block, he felt the edge of the axe:

" 'Tis a sharp medicine," he said, "but a sure cure for all diseases."

A more important plot, due to Catholic discontent, was formed by a man named Guy Fawkes. With some others, he succeeded in storing thirty barrels of gunpowder in a cellar under the Parliament house; and he planned to blow up King, Lords, Commons, ministers, and all, at the opening of Parliament. The plot, however, was discovered, and Guy Fawkes and his helpers were executed. The memory of the event was long preserved by the annual celebration of "Guy Fawkes day," when stuffed figures of Fawkes (whence comes our slang word "guy") were burned. Until recent years, school children in England learned these verses:

"Remember, remember, the Fifth of November,

Gunpowder treason and plot;

I see no reason why Gunpowder treason

Should ever be forgot!"

Guy Fawkes's Cellar

King James had very lofty ideas of the powers of a King, and said some very foolish thing about them. He believed in the "divine right" of Kings—that is, that they received their powers from God, and are responsible to Him alone, and not in any way to their subjects.

But, unfortunately for James, he had even more need of the good will of Parliament than Elizabeth had. He squandered his revenues so recklessly, on his pleasures and favorites, that he was constantly in need of new taxes. Parliament, however, showed itself firmly resolved not to vote him money until grievances of which they complained should be removed. From this, and other causes, it resulted that James quarreled with every Parliament that he summoned, except the last one.

James took the position that Parliament owed all its powers and privileges—such as the right of free speech, and freedom from arrest for what might be said in Parliament—entirely to the graciousness of the King. He forbade them "to meddle with anything concerning our government or deep matters of state." Their business, in short, was merely to vote him the money he needed.

Parliament, on the other hand, asserted, in a famous declaration which they caused to be written in their journal, that "the liberties, privileges, and jurisdictions of Parliament are the undoubted birthright and inheritance of the subjects of England," and that they had a right to debate all matters which concerned them as subjects.

James thereupon dismissed his Parliament, and with his own hands tore this declaration from their journal. It was easy to tear out the record; but it was difficult to move the people from what they believed to be their constitutional rights. Besides quarreling over Puritanism, taxes, and privileges, James and his Parliament held different views concerning foreign affairs.

From 1618 to 1648, Germany was wasted by a terrible religious war, between Catholics and Protestants, called the Thirty Years' War. England was interested in this, not only because England was a Protestant country, and so sympathized with the Protestant cause, but also because King James's daughter Elizabeth had married a German Protestant prince, who lost his lands in the course of the war. King James wanted to aid his son-in-law to recover his lands, but thought the best way to do this way by making a treaty with Spain, which was aiding the Catholic powers. So, long negotiations were carried on for the marriage of his son, Prince Charles, to a Spanish princess. Parliament, on the other hand, bitterly hated the idea of a Spanish marriage, and wanted to strike a vigorous blow at Spain through a naval war. This would not only help their fellow Protestants in Germany, but at the same time win for themselves rich prizes, and further their trading and colonizing ambitions.

In the end, James found that his plans for a Spanish alliance were impossible. He broke off negotiations, and in his last Parliament, which assembled in 1624, he invited the very "meddling" with foreign affairs which he had formerly forbidden. War was then declared against Spain. For the first time, since the early days of his reign, King James and his subjects were in harmony.

James died the next year. He left to his son the difficulty of dealing with the many problems which he had raised by his weakness and folly, but had not known how to solve.

Topics for Thought and Search

Charles and Parliament

Charles I. was a good man, and was much more "kingly" in his manner than James I.; but he held as high ideas of his rights, and was far more impractical. He was less inclined to give way to Parliament, especially where the rights of the Church were concerned; and there was also an unintentional untruthfulness in him, which made it impossible to bind him to any promise. The result was that he was even less successful than his father in dealing with the problems of his time.

Charles I

King James's last and greatest favorite, the Duke of Buckingham, was equally in favor with King Charles. He had risen from a very humble position, solely through his handsome face and good manners. He was now in the highest ranks of the English nobility, and had an income of thousands of pounds sterling a year. All of his family—father, mother, brothers, sisters—had also been enriched and ennobled.

Until Buckingham's death (in 1628) the government was entirely in his hands. But the war with Spain fared badly, and men thought with regret of the glorious victories of Elizabeth. Buckingham hurried England into a war with France, also, and this, too, was mismanaged. Illegal taxes were collected, and men who refused to pay were illegally punished. In addition, favor was shown to an anti-Puritan party, which now began to rise in the Church of England.

For all this, Buckingham was rightly held responsible, and finally was named in Parliament as "the grievance of grievances." To save him from "impeachment"—that is, trial and punishment by Parliament—Charles was obliged to dismiss his second Parliament. In the next Parliament which he called, the members decided not to renew their attack on Buckingham, but to pass a petition of Right, in which such arbitrary taxation and imprisonment as Buckingham and Charles had used were declared illegal. To this law Charles was forced to give his consent. It was the most important act limiting the power of the crown which had been passed since the granting of the Great Charter, by King John, 413 years before.

A few months later, Buckingham was slain by a private enemy; nevertheless, the quarrels between King and Parliament continued.

In 1629 this Parliament—the third one of King Charles's reign—broke up in great disorder. While the King's messenger knocked loudly upon their locked door, to summon them for dismissal, the leaders of the House of Commons forcibly held their Speaker in his chair, and passed a set of defiant resolutions. These declared that anyone who advised the King to bring in anti-Puritan charges in religion, or to collect (without Parliamentary grant) the taxes which were in dispute, should be considered "a capital enemy of the commonwealth"—that is, should be worthy of punishment by death.

Parliament House, Westminster Hall, and Westminster Abbey

For the next eleven years, no Parliament was held, and the King carried on the government by his "absolute" power.

Sir John Eliot was the statesman who had played the chief part in opposing the King's measures, and upon him chiefly the King's wrath now fell. In violation of the rights of free speech, granted to Parliament, the leaders of Parliament were imprisoned in the Tower of London. Others made their submission and were released, but Eliot's brave spirit refused to gain freedom for himself, by surrendering the principle of liberty for the nation. His imprisonment was made more close. He was placed in a room which was dark, cold, and wretchedly uncomfortable; and none but his sons were allowed to visit him. Under the weight of this punishment his health (but not his spirit) gave way, and he died in November, 1632. He was truly a martyr to the cause of constitutional liberty.

Charles's refusal to call Parliament forced him to raise money in many objectionable ways. Among these was the levying of "ship money."

In the old days, when an army might be raised by calling out the men of the country to serve in war, at their own expense, the counties bordering on the sea were often called upon to furnish ships for the King's service. This "ship service" King Charles now changed into a money payment; and he demanded it not only from the seaboard counties, but from the whole country. "Ship money" thus became a regular tax, laid upon the land without the consent of Parliament; and it was seen that, if this were permitted to pass unquestioned, Englishmen would lose one of their dearest rights.

A rich and patriotic Englishman, named John Hampden, refused to pay his "ship money" tax, which amounted to twenty shillings, and the question of the lawfulness of "ship money" thus came before the courts. The judges of that time felt that they were "the lions that supported the King's throne," and must uphold his power; the King, too, had been weeding out judges whom he thought to be unfriendly to his claims. Therefore, the case was decided against Hampden, and the collection of "ship money" continued. The "ship money" case was nevertheless of great importance. It gave to the leading men who opposed the King's claims a chance to speak their minds on the subject, and so to place before the people the dangers of the King's policy. It showed the nation how insecure were their rights of property, under the law as administered by the King's judges.

While the King trampled on the rights of Parliament, and arbitrarily took from his subjects their property, he angered the nation yet more deeply by his religious policies.

Charles appointed as Archbishop of Canterbury a well-meaning but narrow-minded man named William Laud, and allowed him to carry out changes in the Church, which seemed to the Puritans to pave the way for a restoration of the Catholic faith. Men who wrote and spoke against these changes, or against the power of the bishops, were made to stand in the pillory, had their ears cut off, were branded on the cheek with hot irons, were fined ruinous sums, and were cast into prison. Finally, to complete his folly, Laud and the King tried to "reform" the Church of Scotland, in the same way that they had already "reformed" the Church of England.

In Scotland, almost the whole nation banded themselves together to resist the changes. The result was a rebellion, called the "Bishop's Wars," in which Charles was defeated. The Scots then advanced into England. Charles was obliged to make peace with his Scottish subjects. In this he agreed that the Scots' army should stay in England until the changes which he promised should be carried through, and that he would pay its expenses.

To get money to pay the Scots, Charles was obliged, after eleven years of arbitrary government, at last to summon his Parliament—the famous Long Parliament—which sat (with interruptions) from 1640 to 1660.

Charles could not rid himself of the Long Parliament, when it opposed him, as he had done his earlier ones, because in its earlier stages it was backed by the army of the Scots. Later he was prevented from dissolving it, because he had been forced to agree that it should not be dismissed without its own consent.

In both the House of Commons and the House of Lords there was a strong majority against Charles's policies. The leaders of Parliament, therefore, set to work to do three things—to undo the misgovernment of the last eleven years, to punish Charles's ministers, and to pass laws which should make such abuses impossible for the future.

Their hatred was chiefly directed against the Earl of Strafford, who had joined them in opposing the Duke of Buckingham, but had become Charles's principal adviser after Buckingham's death. Strafford was honest in his course, but his former companions regarded him as a traitor to their cause. They also feared him, for so long as he lived no victory which they might win over the King could be permanent, nor their lives be safe. Every effort, therefore, was made to have him put to death. He was accused of attempting to overthrow the liberties of the kingdom, and particularly of having advised the King to make war on his English people. This was held to be treason, and Parliament at last voted that he should be beheaded.

Trial of Strafford

Charles had promised Strafford that he should not suffer in person or in honor, for aiding him. But the outcry of the London mob against Strafford was so great that the King was terrified for the safety of his Queen and children, and, with tears in his eyes, he at last consented to Strafford's execution.

"Put not your trust in princes!" cried Strafford when this news was brought to him. Nevertheless, he had scarcely hoped that he would be spared. He met his death bravely.

He was a pure and able man, and was loyal to what he believed to be his duty. It was his misfortune that his ideas of government were those of a past age, and that his death was a necessity for the people's liberty.

After Strafford's execution, the King and Parliament drifted ever farther and farther apart.

At one time, Charles caused five of the leaders of Parliament to be accused of treason. In violation of their Parliamentary privileges, he came in person with an armed force to seize them. When the Speaker of the Commons was asked to point out the accused members, he replied, kneeling before the King:

"May it please your Majesty, I have neither eyes to see, nor tongue to speak, in this place, but as the House is pleased to direct me."

"Well, well," replied the King, " 'tis no matter; I think my eyes are as good as another's."

However, he did not find the men he sought, because, as he said, "the birds were flown." This attempt did Charles no good, but only caused Parliament and the nation to distrust his intentions.

Two questions, especially, now separated Charles from his Parliament. One was the government of the Church by bishops, which the Puritans wished to cast out, "root and branch." The other was the appointment by Parliament of the officers who commanded the county militia. Troops were now being raised to put down a rebellion in Ireland, and members of Parliament were fearful lest Charles should use these to put down Parliament itself.

To the demand for the right to appoint the militia officers, Charles replied:

"That is a thing with which I would not even trust my wife and children."

On the religious question, he was equally steadfast. In this position he was supported by many members of Parliament who had formerly opposed him. On a measure called the "Grand Remonstrance," which was directed against the King's government, the opposition to Charles had a majority of only eleven votes, in place of the almost unanimous support which they formerly had. Feeling ran so high that swords were actually drawn on the floor of the House of Commons, and bloodshed was narrowly prevented.

The question really at issue was this: Should the King or Parliament control the government?

It was a question which could neither be evaded nor compromised. Matters grew steadily worse and worse; and finally, in 1642, the two parties drifted into civil war.

Topics for Thought and Search

The Civil War between King and Parliament (1642-1649)

The great civil war between King Charles and his English Parliament began in August, 1642, when the King "raised his standard" at Nottingham. It did not really end until Charles was beheaded in 1649, and a Commonwealth or republic was set up.

In this war, the great majority of the nobles and the gentry, with their dependents, took the side of the King. The middle classes—the traders and manufacturers of the towns, and most of the small farmers—upheld the cause of Parliament. The King's supporters, for the most part, believed in the Church of England, and loved a gay life and fine clothes. They were called "Cavaliers." The supporters of Parliament were mainly sober-minded Puritans, plain in their lives and in their dress. They were called "Roundheads," from their refusal to wear the "lovelock," which Cavaliers wore curling down over one shoulder.

The east and south—which were then the most populous, industrious, and wealthy parts of England—generally sided with Parliament. The north and west went with the King. Oxford, the seat of England's greatest university, was the royalist headquarters. Parliament controlled London, the navy, most of the seaports, and the law-making and taxing part of the government. From the beginning its resources were much greater than those of the King. Both sides sought aid outside of England. Parliament secured an army from the Scots. The King's efforts to get men from Ireland and the Continent profited him very little.

In the beginning of the war, Charles gained some successes, chiefly because the Cavaliers were better soldiers than the troops which Parliament raised. But among the members of Parliament was a plain, earnest, country squire, named Oliver Cromwell. He had an unsuspected genius for war, and soon saw what was the trouble with the Parliament's army.

Oliver Cromwell

"Your troops," he told his cousin, John Hampden, "are most of them old decayed serving men and tapsters, and such kind of fellows; and their troops are gentlemen's sons and persons of quality. Do you think that the spirits of such base and mean fellows will ever be able to encounter gentlemen that have honor, and courage, and resolution in them? You must get men of a spirit that is likely to go as far as gentlemen will go, or else you will be beaten still."

Setting to work on this principle, Cromwell organized his famous body of troops, known as the "Ironsides." The name was first given to Cromwell himself, by one of the King's generals, and later extended to his troops. They were sternly Puritan men, like their commander, who "knew what they fought for and loved what they knew." And from the time when Cromwell and his Ironsides began to be prominent in the war, the balance of victory inclined in Parliament's favor.

The first great Parliamentary victory was won in July, 1644, at Marston Moor, in the north of England. An army of Scots and Parliamentarians had laid siege to the city of York. Charles ordered his nephew, Prince Rupert—a dashing cavalry general—to go to its deliverance. As Rupert approached, the Scots and Parliament men drew back, and took their stand on a long ridge above Marston Moor. When Rupert arrived at its foot, it was already seven o'clock in the evening of a long summer day. He decided not to begin the attack until morning, and he and his men began to eat such supper as they had with them.

But suddenly, while the Royalists were thus engaged, the Parliament men rushed down the hill and attacked them.

Rupert's army fought bravely, but they were outnumbered and in disorder. On the side of Parliament, Cromwell and his Ironsides did especial service.

"It had all the evidence," Cromwell wrote after the battle, "of an absolute victory, obtained by the Lord's blessing upon the godly party. We never charged but that we routed the enemy. God made them as stubble to our swords."

Part of Cromwell's Letter After Naseby

By this battle, Rupert's army was practically destroyed. York was forced to surrender, and almost all the north of England passed from the control of the King to that of Parliament.

After Marston Moor, the army of Parliament was reorganized on a more Puritan basis. Cromwell, as commander of the cavalry, now took more and more a leading part.

Another great battle was fought the next year at Naseby, in central England. Rupert, who was this time accompanied by the King, was again defeated, and again the victory was mainly due to Cromwell and his Ironsides. "The stake played for at Naseby," says a great historian, "was the crown of England, and Charles had lost it." He was left without an army and his surrender became only a question of a little time. Worse than the loss of his army was the capture of Charles's papers, containing copies of his letters to his wife. These showed that in his negotiations with Parliament he was not sincere, and that he had no intention of making a lasting peace with his rebellious subjects.

Some months after the battle of Naseby, Charles set out from Oxford in disguise. He arrived at the camp of the Scots, and surrendered to them.

Charles thought his Scottish subjects would offer him better terms than his English ones. But the Scots, in their dealings with him, found Charles so obstinate and tricky, that at last they turned him over to the agents of the English Parliament, and marched off to their homes.

Then Parliament tried its hand at negotiating with Charles. At this time Parliament was ruled by men who wanted to establish the Presbyterian form of religion in England, and persecute all other denominations. The army, on the other hand, was made up mainly of "Independents," who held radical religious ideas. They did not want any church supported by the state; but they did want equal toleration for all sects of Christians, except Roman Catholics and perhaps Episcopalians. In addition, the army was angry because Parliament tried to dismiss it without giving it the many months of back pay which were due.

In these circumstances Charles made the fatal mistake of trying to play off Parliament against the army. The result was that the army took his custody into its own hands. Late one night an officer knocked at the door of Charles's bedroom, with a small squad of soldiers, and told him that he must go with them to some other place.

"What commission have you to take me?" asked Charles, fearing that some harm might be intended.

"Here's my commission," replied the officer, pointing to the soldiers behind him.

Thus Charles passed from the custody of Parliament into that of the army. Then they tried to get him to agree to fair terms. But Charles could not understand that things were not as they had been, and that he must now make up his mind to accept important changes in the government of both church and state.

"You cannot do without me," he said to the army leaders. "You will fall to ruin if I do not sustain you."

He clung blindly to the belief that an hereditary King was absolutely necessary to England, and that if he only held out long enough he would surely have his way. So he rejected the army's proposals.

In November, 1647, Charles succeeded in escaping from Hampton Court, where he was kept in honorable captivity, to a castle in the Isle of Wight. There he concluded a treaty with the Scots by which he agreed to establish the Presbyterian worship in England for three years, and to put down the religious sects to which most of the army belonged. On these terms the Scots agreed to send a new army into England—this time to make war on their former allies, and to restore Charles to his English throne.

When the Scots came into England, Cromwell succeeded in defeating them, in the battle of Preston, after three days' hard fighting. The chief result of this new war was to bring the army leaders at last to the grim determination to put the King to death.

"If ever the Lord brings us back again in peace," they said on setting out for the war, "it is our duty to call Charles Stuart, that man of blood, to an account for the blood he has shed, and the mischief he has done against the Lord's cause and people in these poor nations."

But, in order to give any form of law to the trial of the King, Parliament must act, and to get such action the army must drive out the Presbyterians from that body and secure control of it for the radical sects which they themselves represented. Accordingly, in December, 1648, an officer named Colonel Pride took his stand before the doors of Parliament, and "purged" that body by arresting or turning back, as they sought to enter, 143 of its members. After this, many other members of their own accord ceased to attend Parliament. Thus the army got control of Parliament, and could pass what measures it wished.

To try the King, a High Court of Justice was appointed, consisting of 135 members. Only 65 members of this court appeared at the trial, and only 59 of these signed the sentence which it passed against the King.

The charge against Charles was that he had tried to overturn the liberties of the nation, and to introduce absolute government; and that he had made war against the Parliament and kingdom. He replied by denying that the court had any right to try him. In spite of this plea, the trial went on. After sitting seven days, the court found him guilty of being "a tyrant, traitor, murderer, and public enemy to the good people of this kingdom," and sentenced him to death.

Three days later, on January 30, 1649—a cold and wintry day—the sentence was publicly carried out. Charles's last acts were full of bravery and dignity.

"I fear not death," he said. "Death is not terrible to me. I bless my God I am prepared."

The scaffold was erected before the King's palace of Whitehall, in London. The great crowd of people which gathered about it showed their sympathy for the King, and disapproval of the sentence, by groans of pity and horror; and strong guards of soldiers were necessary, there and throughout London, to preserve order. Large numbers who had condemned the King's policies disapproved of his execution. A poet, who was of this number, thus describes Charles's last moments:

"He nothing common did or mean,

Upon that memorable scene,

But with his keener eye

That axe's edge did try;

Nor called the gods with vulgar spite

To vindicate his helpless right,

But bowed his comely head

Down, as upon a bed."

The army, with the iron hand of force, had overthrown Parliament and King. It remained for them, if they could, to reconstruct on those ruins a government which should be safe and free.

Topics for Thought and Search

Commonwealth and Protectorate (1649-1660)

At the time that Parliament was preparing to bring the King to trial, it laid the foundations for a republican form of government. It declared that the people are the source of all just power, that the House of Commons represents the people, and that what it passes as law does not need the consent of either King or House of Lords. The kingship and the House of Lords were both abolished as "useless, burdensome, and dangerous," and a "Commonwealth" was established, with a Council of State at its head.

At once the new government found itself threatened from three sources—from the extreme radicals (called "Levelers") in England, who wanted a more democratic form of government; from the Royalists and Catholics in Ireland; and from the Presbyterians and Royalists of Scotland. To Cromwell, who was now at last made "Captain General and Commander in Chief" of the army, fell the task of dealing with each of these dangers. The Levellers were crushed and their leaders punished. Then Cromwell took two fortified towns in Ireland by storm, and pitilessly put the garrisons to death—as a means, he said, "to prevent the effusion of blood for the future."

The danger from Scotland was not so easily overcome. Immediately after Charles I. was put to death, the Scots had proclaimed his son, Charles II., as King of Scotland; and he had promised them (what his father would never grant) that Presbyterian rule should there be supreme. To prevent the Scots from restoring Charles II. in England, Cromwell invaded Scotland; and he soon confronted the Scottish army, near the little town of Dunbar.

"The enemy," wrote Cromwell, "hath blocked up our way at the pass, through which we cannon get without almost a miracle. He lieth so upon the hills that we know not how to come that way without great difficulty; and our lying there daily consumeth our men, who fall sick beyond imagination."

From this difficulty Cromwell was relieved by a false move of the Scots, who came down from the hills to the level ground by the roadside. Before daybreak, on the morning of September 3, 1650, Cromwell and his men attacked their unsuspecting foes, and in less than an hour's time the whole Scottish army was destroyed. In this battle of Dunbar, three thousand were slain on the field, and ten thousand taken prisoners. To Cromwell the result seemed "one of the most signal mercies that God hath done to England and His people."

The Scots, however, were not crushed. While Cromwell was busy securing Edinburgh, and other strong places, Charles II. and a new army made a sudden dash into England. At once terror seized upon many of the ruling spirits of England, for they dreaded a general uprising in favor of the young King. But, before any serious mischief could befall, Cromwell overtook the Scottish forces at Worcester; and there, just one year after the battle of Dunbar, he won a second great victory. His letter to the speaker of the Parliament, written at ten o'clock of the night of the battle, tells the story:

NEAR WORCESTER,, 3d September, 1651.

"Sir:— Being so weary and scarce able to write, yet I thought it my duty to let you know thus much. That upon this day, being the 3d of September (remarkable for a mercy granted to our forces on this day twelve-month in Scotland), we built a bridge of boats over the river Severn, about half a mile from Worcester. We passed over some horse and foot, and beat the enemy from hedge to hedge until we beat them into Worcester. The enemy then drew all his forces on the other side of the town, and made a considerable fight with us for three hours' space. But in the end we beat them totally, and pursued him to the fort, which we took—and indeed have beaten his whole army.

"This hath been a very glorious mercy, and as stiff a contest, for four or five hours, as ever I have seen. Both your old forces, and those newly raised, have behaved with very great courage; and He that made them come out, made them willing to fight for you. The Lord God Almighty frame our hearts to real thankfulness for this, which is alone His doing. I hope I shall within a day or two give you a more perfect account. In the meantime I hope you will pardon, sir,

Your most humble servant,

OLIVER CROMWELL.

Charles II. and the Stuart Restoration (1660-1685)

Charles II. entered London on May 29, 1660, which was his thirtieth birthday. The shouting and joy which greeted him were greater than could be described. He was an abler man than his father, and his wanderings and exile had given him experience of the world. But he was a bad man morally, and he had none of the loyalty to principle which caused Charles I. to uphold the Church of England at all cost. He was as much resolved to rule absolutely as his father, but he was determined, above all things, not to "set out on his travels again." So, when his measures aroused serious opposition, he drew back. For a long time, people did not suspect him of dangerous designs; for his ready wit and pleasant manners disguised his real plans, and he seemed to be wholly given up to leading a gay life.

Ladies of the Court of Charles II

The court and society took their tone from the King, and a great reaction against Puritanism set in. The theaters, which had been closed by the Long Parliament, were re-opened. With them came back bull-baiting, bear-baiting, cock-fighting, the May-pole dance, and all the other usages, good and bad, which characterized "Merry England." Pleasant vice and profitable corruption prevailed, in place of the Puritans' endless psalm singing, sermons, and prayer.

Maypole Dance

It was in the time of Charles II., also, that the drinking of coffee, tea, and chocolate came to use in England. The first was introduced from Turkey, the second from China, and the third from Central America. Coffee houses, or places for drinking coffee, became the chief meeting places for fashionable society, where the latest news could always be heard.

Charles was wise enough to let Parliament settle the questions which the restoration raised.

Thirteen persons who had taken part in the trial and execution of Charles I. were put to death, but most of those concerned in the rebellion were pardoned, or were lightly punished.

Charles's second Parliament, which sat from 1661 to 1679, was as "Cavalier" as his heart could wish. It re-established the Church of England, and expelled two thousand Puritan ministers from their pulpits. By later laws, it forbade the dispossessed ministers from earning a living by teaching, or from holding religious assemblies, or from even residing five miles of a town.

From this time there exists, along with the established Episcopal church, a large body of Protestant "Dissenters"—Presbyterians, Baptists, Quakers, and the like—as well as a considerable body of Roman Catholics. One of the chief needs of the time, was to secure, for these Dissenters, religious toleration—that is, the right to worship peaceably, in their own way, without punishment by the state. The foreign policy of Charles was at first chiefly concerned with the "United Provinces," or Dutch republic.

These provinces, situated about the mouth of the river Rhine, had become rich and prosperous states through commerce and industry. While Elizabeth ruled over England, they became Protestant, and threw off the cruel government of Spain. For a time, the greater part of the commerce of Europe was carried on in Dutch vessels. They established a colonial empire which included the Cape of Good Hope, in Africa; Java, Ceylon, and the Moluccas, in the East Indies; and New Amsterdam, in America. The jealousy which their commercial success aroused in England had led Cromwell to pass a Navigation Act, which took from them most of their trade with that country. A war followed (1651-1654); and although the Dutch Admiral, Van Tromp, for a time, sailed "with a broom at his masthead," as a sign of his intention to sweep the English fleet from the sea, he had at last been defeated and slain, and the Dutch had made peace.

Gentlemen's Costumes in the Time of Charles II

Under Charles II., two new wars were fought with the Dutch. In the first of these (1665-1667), Prince Rupert and Admiral Monk won some victories. Then Charles, thinking that peace would be made, laid up his fleet in the harbors of the river Thames, in order that he might save money to spend on his pleasures. But the Dutch got together a new fleet, and sailed up the Thames and burned three of the English ships which lay at anchor. They then blockaded the river for two weeks. Men murmured that such things had not happened in Cromwell's day.

"Everybody," wrote an officer of the navy, "reflects upon Oliver, and commends him, saying what brave things he did, and how he made all the neighboring princes fear him."

The only gain which England made from the Dutch, by this war, was New Amsterdam, which was conquered, and called New York, in honor of Charles's brother, the Duke of York (1664).

Charles's second war with the Dutch came in 1672. He attacked them in alliance with Louis XIV. of France, who was seeking to extend his kingdom at the expense of his neighbors. By a secret treaty, Charles promised Louis that he would declare himself a Catholic whenever the time seemed ripe for it. In return, the French King again and again gave large sums of money to Charles, to make him independent of Parliament. He also promised to send soldiers to his aid, in case rebellion broke out in England.

The war which Charles and Louis waged went badly. On land, the brave Hollanders defended themselves against Louis XIV. by cutting the dykes, which protected their low-lying land against the sea, and flooding the open country. On the sea, the English felt that they were left by the French to do all the fighting. Charles's nephew, William III. of Orange, was now at the had of the Dutch government, with the title of Stadtholder; and the English Parliament soon forced King Charles to conclude a peace. Thenceforth, William III. was free to give all his attention to saving free government and the Protestant religion, in Europe, from the ambitious designs of Louis XIV.

The city of London, under Charles II., suffered two great disasters—from plague, and from fire.

Attacks of the plague were common, owing to bad sanitary conditions and lack of medical knowledge. London streets were narrow and filthy, and the upper stories of the houses projected so that they almost met those of the other side. Sunlight and fresh air were thus shut out; also, the drainage was bad, and the water supply poor. The result was that, in 1665, London suffered an attack of the plague such as it had never experienced since the time of the Black Death, three hundred years before. For a time, more than 6,000 persons a week died from it, and altogether fully 120,000 persons perished in London alone. Houses in which persons lay sick with the disease were marked with red crosses, a foot long, together with the words, "God have mercy upon us!" At night, death carts went around the streets, accompanied by men ringing bells and crying "Bring out your dead!" Shops were shut up, and the streets deserted; for all who could do so fled to the purer air of the country. Thirty, forty, and even a hundred miles from London the people were panic stricken. They shut their doors even against their friends; and if two men passed upon the road, or in the open fields, each kept as far from the other as space would permit. It was not until winter that the sickness declined.

Scarcely had London begun to recover from the plague, when it was swept by a terrible fire. The flames broke out in the early morning of September 2, 1966, and raged four days. The wind was blowing a gale, and the fire did not die out until four-fifths of old London was laid in ashes. Eighty-nine churches, including St. Paul's cathedral, were burned, and more than thirteen hundred houses. Two hundred thousand people were left homeless. In a diary of that time, the writer thus describes the fire at its height:

"We saw the fire grow, and as it grew darker, it appeared more and more; in corners and upon steeples, and between churches and houses, and as far as we could see up the hill of the city, in a most horrid malicious bloody flame, not like the fine flame of an ordinary fire. We saw the fire as only one entire arch of fire from this side to the other side of the bridge, and in a bow up the hill for an arch of above a mile long. It made me weep to see it: the churches, houses, and all on fire, and flaming at once; and a horrid noise the flames made, and the cracking of houses at their ruin."

Some good results followed the fire. It put an end to the last ravages of the plague, by burning out the old, filthy, rat-infested quarters; and it cleared the ground for a rebuilding of the city in more modern fashion.

New St. Paul's Cathedral

Many persons falsely said that the fire was the work of "Papists" or Roman Catholics, who at the time were both hated and feared by English Protestants. A few years later, Charles made this feeling much worse by taking a step toward carrying out his secret treaty with Louis XIV.

Charles did not dare to declare himself a Catholic, but he did issue a "Declaration of Indulgence." By this, he attempted to suspend all laws passed against Roman Catholics and Protestant Dissenters alike, and give them religious toleration. The measure was wise in itself, but it was dishonest in its motives, and was contrary to the sentiments of most of his subjects. Moreover, it was very doubtful whether the King alone could suspend laws which had been passed by the King and Parliament together. The result was that a great opposition was aroused in Parliament. Charles was obliged not only to recall his declaration, but also to give his consent to a "test act" by which all Catholics were driven out of political offices.

Not long after this, the jealous hatred of English Protestants for Roman Catholics was fanned to a flame by the discovery of what was alleged to be a "Popish Plot."

A wicked man named Titus Oates swore falsely that Catholics were plotting to murder Charles II. and to restore the Catholic religion by the aid of a French army. Other men came forward, and confirmed his stories, in order that they might share in the rewards which were given to Oates. Unfortunately, a London magistrate, at this time, was found dead in a ditch, thrust through with a sword; and this was believed to be the work of the plotters.

All England then went wild with excitement. Five Jesuit priests were convicted and hanged, after shamefully unfair trials, and one Catholic nobleman was beheaded. Hundreds of others were arrested, and punished in milder ways. To check still further the influence of Catholics, a new "test act" was passed, which shut them out of the House of Lords. A desperate effort was also made to prevent the Duke of York, who had declared himself a Catholic, from succeeding his brother, Charles II., as King; but this was unsuccessful.

For a long time there had been a growing opposition to the government of Charles II., on political grounds. Now, under the influence of the religious struggle, it took the form of a political party, called the "Whigs." The name came from a word used by Scottish teamsters to make their horses go faster. The supporters of the King were given the name of "Tories," from an Irish word meaning outlaws. The Tories generally upheld the established Church of England, believed that the King ruled by "divine right," and taught that it was a sin to resist him under any pretext. The Whigs, on the other hand, favored toleration for Protestant dissenters, and believed that the King was only an officer of the government, subject to the law and to Parliament. This was the beginning of the two great political parties whose rivalries have shaped the government of England from that day to this.

In the last five years of his reign, Charles II. was completely victorious over his opponents. Shaftesbury, the great leader of the Whigs, was exiled and died abroad. Other leading Whigs were arrested and executed, on charges of plotting against the King. Parliament was called to meet at Oxford, where it would be away from the support of the Londoners; and it was so overawed that it passed what measures the King willed. To make the King's control permanent, steps were taken by which Tories were placed in power in most of the towns of England, so that for the future their representatives in the House of Commons might be favorable to the King.

While in the height of his triumph, Charles died, in 1685, of apoplexy. In his last hours he was reconciled to the Catholic church, and died in that faith. He left no legitimate children, and the throne passed to his brother James, Duke of York.

The Whig party seemed hopelessly crushed, and it looked as if James II. would rule his dominions of England, Ireland, and Scotland with less trouble than had any member so far of the Stuart house.

Topics for Thought and Search

James II. and the "Glorious Revolution" (1685-1689)

Unfortunately for himself, James II. was narrow-minded and obstinate, and was determined not only to be an absolute King but to restore the Catholic religion to a position at least equal to that of the Church of England. By his unwise policy, he angered not only the classes which had fought against  his father, Charles I., but also those who had fought for  his father. The result was that, within four years, he lost his crown, and new rulers were called to the throne in his place.

James II

At the beginning of his reign, James declared that he would "preserve the government in church and in state as it was established by law." This gave great satisfaction to the people.

"We have now the word of a King," it was everywhere said, "and a word never yet broken."

So, when James's nephew, the Duke of Monmouth (who was a Protestant) tried to raise a rebellion, and secure the throne himself, he got little support. Almost everybody rejoiced when he was overthrown. But, when he was pitilessly put to death, and hundreds of men and women who had aided him in any way were hanged by the brutal judges appointed by the King, the people's satisfaction began to lessen. Also, it was soon seen that the declaration which James made when he ascended the throne meant less than was thought. The laws which had "established" the Church had been passed under Queen Elizabeth. But James regarded her as an usurper; and so, in spite of his promise, he did not feel bound to observe those laws.

As a step toward putting Catholics in power, he removed from their offices the judges who would not do what he wanted them to do. Then, in spite of the test acts, he appointed Catholics to positions in the army, in his Council, in the universities, and even in the English Church. He claimed the right to do this under what was called the "dispensing power"—that is, the power to free a person beforehand from the disabilities imposed by a law, just as he could, by his pardoning power, free one from the penalties of the law after  an offense was committed. When the matter came before the judges, they decided that the King had this power. In dealing with the Church and the universities, James made matters worse by appointing, as the agents to carry out his policy, an "Ecclesiastical Commission," which was similar to an earlier body which had proved very oppressive, and had been abolished by the Long Parliament.

It seemed as though the arbitrary government of Charles I. was about to be revived, and to be used, not to uphold the Church of England, but to force the Catholic religion upon the country.

English Protestants were made more suspicious by a step which was taken at this time in Catholic France. There Louis XIV., who was the ally of James II., as he had been of Charles II., took away from the Huguenots, or French Protestants, the right of worshiping as they pleased, which they had enjoyed for almost a century, and began a policy of persecution. Their churches were closed, their ministers were thrown into prison, and all sorts of hardships were put upon the Huguenots, to cause them to change their religion. Thousands of them escaped from France to Protestant countries; many came to England where they spread abroad hatred of France and of arbitrary government, and distrust of Catholic intentions.

James's next step confirmed this distrust, for he issued a Declaration of Indulgence, such as his brother, Charles II., had issued, and been obliged to withdraw. This was intended, in part, to win to his side the Protestant Dissenters, who would thus be freed, equally with the Catholics, from persecution by the Church of England. The most important leaders among the dissenters, however, saw the snare, and refused to be bribed to support the King's measures.

James ordered that the Declaration should be read in all the churches, at the time of divine services. In spite of the doctrine preached by them, which made resistance to the King a sin, most of the clergy refused to read the Declaration. Seven of the most important bishops of the Church of England, indeed, went further. They signed a petition to the King, which declared that this dispensing power was illegal, and that they could not, in "prudence, honor, or conscience," take any part in proclaiming it.

A Bishop of the Time of James II

When they presented this petition to James, he was greatly surprised and angry.

"This is a standard of rebellion," he cried. "Did ever a good churchman question the dispensing power before? I will be obeyed! My Declaration shall be published! I will remember you that have signed this paper."

True to his word, James ordered that the seven bishops should be tried by the law courts. The charge was that their petition, which they had shown to nobody but the King himself, was designed to stir the people up to resist the government. When the bishops were brought into court, they passed through a great crowd, who applauded, and asked for their blessings. Some of the ablest lawyers of England appeared to defend them.

One of the jurors was a man who brewed beer for the King's palace, and was afraid of losing the King's trade. He refused to listen to the arguments of the others, saying that his mind was made up against the bishops.

"If you come to that," said one of the others, "look at me. I am the largest and strongest of this twelve; and before I find such a petition a crime, here will I stay till I am no bigger than a pipestem."

The jury remained locked up all night, and when morning came the brewer gave way. The verdict which they reported to the court was, "Not guilty."

Cheers upon cheers greeted this decision, and, as the news spread through London, the whole city burst into rejoicing. James was reviewing the army, which he had stationed just outside London to overawe the city, when the news came. The soldiers cheered, like the rest of England. When James asked what it meant, their officers said:

"Nothing, except that the soldiers are glad that the bishops are acquitted."

"Do you call that nothing?" he replied. And he added: "So much the worse for them."

The leading men of England had borne James's misgovernment quietly, for his two children, Mary and Anne, were Protestants, and the elder of them, Mary, was married to William of Orange. When James should die, therefore, he would be succeeded by a Protestant, and all would be well. But, in the very midst of the bishops' trial, James's second wife gave birth to a little son. According to the law, this son would succeed to the throne, in preference to his sisters; and since James was now a Catholic it was clear that the little Prince would be brought up as a Catholic, and so Catholic rule in England was likely to continue indefinitely.

This changed the whole situation. The leading men refused to believe that the boy was the child of James and the Queen, but claimed that he was an adopted child, who had been smuggled into the palace in a warming pan.

The doctrine of non-resistance was now forgotten. On the very day that the bishops were acquitted, seven of the leading men, some of them Whigs and some Tories, joined in an invitation to William of Orange, to come over with an armed force, and defend the rights of his wife Mary and the liberties of the English people.

William of Orange Setting Out for England

William accepted the invitation, and landed in England with a small army, on November 5, 1688. James tried to undo his illegal acts, and to recover the lost loyalty of his people; but it was too late. The soldiers whom he sent against William were persuaded by their commanders to go over to the side of the invader. In the north, a rebellion was raised against the King, with cries of "A free Parliament, the Protestant religion, and no Popery." The Princess Anne and her husband fled from the Court, and joined William.

"God help me," cried James, when this news was brought to him, "my very children have forsaken me!"

Deserted by everybody, he determined to flee to France. On his first attempt, he was arrested by some fishermen, who took him for an escaping criminal, and he was brought back. This did not suit William, for he did not want to have the problem of deciding what should be done with a deposed King. So James was driven from his palace, and the way was left open (which James was not long in finding) to escape abroad. His second attempt was successful. Louis XIV. received him kindly, and gave him the use of a palace, and a yearly pension.

To settle the government in England, a new "Convention Parliament" was called. This declared that James had broken the "contract" between the King and people, and that by fleeing from the kingdom he had given up the throne. William and Mary were then chosen as joint sovereigns. The next year, the Parliament passed the Bill of Rights, which confirmed all that had been done in the Revolution, declared illegal the oppressive acts of James II., and provided that no Catholic should ever succeed to the throne of England. This famous law ranks in importance with the Great Charter of 1215, and the Petition of Right of 1628. Scotland also deposed James II., and accepted William and Mary as its sovereigns; at the same time, it declared Presbyterianism to be the established religion of that kingdom. Only in Ireland did government continue in the name of James II., and there also, as we shall see, it was soon to be overthrown.

Thus the Stuart rule was ended, and the principle was established that the King is under Parliament and the law, and not above them. This change was accomplished almost wholly without war or bloodshed and with very little disturbance among the people.

Well may Englishmen—and we also who derive our governments from them—look back upon the benefits which this change brought, and call it the "Glorious Revolution of 1688!"

Topics for Thought and Search

The Reign of William and Mary (1689-1702)

Parliament chose wisely in placing William and Mary upon the throne. Mary was a Stuart, was still young and handsome, and was popular because of her good heart and pleasing manners. William III., on the other hand, was a foreigner, and had a distant manner, which held people off at arm's length. His English subjects never loved him, as they did Mary, although they recognized his ability and his just character. On the Continent, he had already become the leader of the Protestants in resisting the ambitious plans of France. As King of England, his chief object was still to unite Europe against Louis XIV., but at the same time he wished to govern strictly according to the constitution.

William III

Although James II. had fled from England, he had no intention of giving up his throne without a struggle. Louis XIV. treated his as if he were still King of England and supplied him with soldiers, arms, and money. James's chief attempt was made in Ireland, where the great majority of the people were Catholics, and favored his cause.

When James arrived in Ireland he laid siege to the Protestant town of Londonderry. The siege lasted for more than a hundred days. The inhabitants of the town suffered terribly; more than half of them perished, and the survivors were forced to eat the flesh of horses, cats, and dogs. James's officers carried on the siege with savage cruelty; but still the cry was, "No surrender." When at last food was all gone, except a little tallow and some salted hides, a fleet sent by William broke through the "boom" which closed the harbor, and the town was saved.

The next summer (1690) William himself took a large force to Ireland, and won a great victory in the battle of the river Boyne. The Irish cavalry fought bravely, but their foot soldiers were untrained, and fled from the field. James was one of the first of the fugitives to reach the city of Dublin, and there he bitterly told an Irish lady that her countrymen had "run away."

"If they have, Sire," she replied, "your Majesty seems to have won the race."

James now returned to France, leaving his Irish supporters to their fate. It was many months before the last stronghold surrendered to William's generals; and when that happened, more than 10,000 of the Irish soldiers were allowed to go to France, where they formed a famous "Irish brigade" in Louis XIV.'s army.

In Scotland, also, William had to fight for the crown. A nobleman, named Dundee, gathered together the Highland clans, and met William's general, as he and his men came toiling up through the pass of Killiekrankie, in central Scotland. William's troops had been supplied with bayonets, a new French invention; but these fitted into the muzzles of the guns, instead of fastening to the outsides, and the guns could not be fired with the bayonets in position. After firing a few volleys, the Highlanders drew their broadswords, and rushed like a whirlwind upon their English and Lowland enemies. They were upon William's troops before the latter could fix their bayonets. Within a few minutes the battle was won. But the brave Dundee there lost his life, and James II. had no one to take his place.

William succeeded, without much difficulty, in recovering from this defeat, and by the end of 1691 most of the Highland clans had submitted. The MacDonalds of Glencoe, however, put off the hateful duty to the last moment; and, through a mistake, they allowed the time set by William for receiving submissions to pass without giving in their names. They were misrepresented to William by their enemies as murderers and brigands. So William gave orders to "extirpate that nest of thieves," as an example to others. This cruel order was carried out with yet greater cruelty. The soldiers who were sent to Glencoe pretended to come as friends, and ate at the tables of the MacDonalds, and joked and played cards with them. Then, when night came, they treacherously fell upon their hosts, and put them to death. When this "massacre of Glencoe" became known to the Scottish Parliament, it caused a great outcry, and William was obliged to dismiss from his employ the persons responsible for it.

The help which Louis XIV. gave to James II. led to war between England and France.

For eight years, William was at the head of a great league—composed of Great Britain, Holland, Spain, and Germany—which fought the French wherever they found them. On the Continent, it was chiefly a war of sieges, and of pitched battles between an army carrying on the siege and one trying to relieve the besieged town. Soon after the beginning of the war, France won a naval victory which for two years gave it command of the sea. Many leading Englishmen, in William's service, grew so faint-hearted that they secretly wrote to James II., telling him that they were favorable to his cause; and William was obliged to let their treason pass unnoticed.

But the burning of a village on the coast of England, by a French fleet, aroused England's spirit. James also issued a foolish proclamation, in which he threatened, if he was successful, to punish all persons who had in any way served under William; and this made men hesitate to replace him on the throne.

Then, in 1692, the English won a great naval battle off La Hogue, which again gave them the command of the sea, and freed them from all danger and invasion. Russell, the English commander, was one of those who had secretly informed James that he would help him.

"But do not think," he told James's messenger, "that I will let the French triumph over us in our own sea. Understand this, that, if I meet them, I fight them, even though his Majesty himself should be on board."

Russell's hatred of the French was greater than his love for James II., and he kept his word about fighting them, in spite of his promise to James.

At last, in 1697, a peace was made, by which Louis agreed to give up his conquests, and to acknowledge William III. as King of England. William was thus successful in his struggle with the "Grand Monarch" of France. He had shown England, moreover, that its greatest enemy now was not Spain, but France, and that if the English wanted to develop their trade and colonies it was chiefly with France that they must struggle. So he started England on a new "hundred years' war" with France, which was to be fought all over the world, wherever French and English met, and which did not end until England had won from France practically all her colonial possessions, and established the British Empire.

In William's reign, also, began many of the practices which established political and religious liberty in England. The Protestant Dissenters were rewarded, for their refusal to aid James II. in his illegal measures, by the passage of a Toleration Act. This relieved them from the fines for failure to attend the services of the Church of England, which were imposed by laws made in Elizabeth's reign, and also permitted them to have chapels and hold services of their own. Catholics, however, were not admitted to these privileges. For nearly a hundred years the laws against Catholics not only continued in full force, but were even made stronger.

To prevent any King becoming strong enough to overthrow free government by force, as James II. had tried to do, Parliament made a change in regard to the Mutiny Act, which gives the King and his officers power to control the army. They now began to pass this act for only a year at a time, instead of for a long term of years. Parliament also adopted the practice of voting money to run the government for only a year at a time. In this way, it was made impossible for a King to rule without Parliament, for Parliament must meet at least once each year, to pass the Mutiny Act and the "appropriation" bills. A few years later, Parliament also passed a Triennial Act, which provided that no Parliament should continue in existence, without a new election, for more than three years. The period for which Parliament can sit was later changed to seven years; but the principle still holds good, that such "long Parliaments" as that which began under Charles I., and that which sat under Charles II., shall not be allowed.

The Bank of England was also established under William. This made it much easier for the government to raise money, and to carry on its financial business. Today the Bank of England is one of the greatest money institutions in the world.

In the later part of his reign, William took the step of choosing all his chief ministers from the party which at that time had a majority in the House of Commons, and hence best represented the views of the people. A very little more change, made in later reigns, brought about a system of "cabinet government," under which England is ruled today.

From William's reign also dates the right of any man to print any book, pamphlet, or newspaper that he wants to without having to submit it beforehand to a "censor" to see that its opinions are such as the government and church approve of. Newspapers now sprang up, and it was not long before the first daily paper was founded. This "freedom of the press" helped greatly to educate the people, and to inform them of what the government was doing; and thus a "public opinion" was formed which statesmen of both parties were obliged to take account of.

Queen Mary II

In 1694 Queen Mary died, of the smallpox, which at that time, before vaccination was discovered, carried off thousands of persons each year. William's grief was heart-rendering. "I was the happiest man on earth," he cried, "and now I am the most miserable. She had no faults—none. You knew her well, but you could not know—nobody but myself knew—how good she was."

William and Mary had no children, and so, by a provision in the Bill of Rights, Mary's sister, Anne, became heir to the throne. The last of Anne's seventeen children died before William passed away, and it then became clear that some further provision must be made concerning the succession. So, in 1701, Parliament passed an Act of Settlement, which provided that, after Anne's death, the crown should go to Sophia, a granddaughter of James I., and to her descendants, "being Protestants." Sophia's husband was Elector (or Prince) of Hanover, one of the German states, and this act thus paved the way for the "Hanoverian succession," which actually took place in 1714. Another provision of the Act of Settlement was that judges should hold their offices during life, or so long as they behaved well. This provision remedied one of the greatest abuses under the Stuart Kings, by making it impossible to remove judges at the King's pleasure, in order to get from the courts decisions which suited him.

The next year after this act, William III. died, worn out with anxiety and hard work. The immediate cause of his death was a fall from his horse. He was a great King, though he was not a popular one. We should think of him especially as one who brought England safely through a great crisis, and who first showed the world how, in a country like England, Parliament and the Crown could govern together.

Topics for Thought and Search

Queen Anne, the Last of the Stuarts (1702-1714)

Queen Anne was a good-hearted woman, and was very devoted to the Church of England. But she was stupid and without ability to govern, and was always ruled by her favorites.

Queen Anne

From girlhood Anne was under the influence of a beautiful, ambitious, and high-tempered lady of the court, named Sarah Jennings. Lady Sarah married John Churchill, a handsome young man, of polished manners, who was as poor and ambitious as Sarah herself. It was through their influence that Anne deserted her father, at the time of the Revolution, and went over to the side of William and her sister Mary. Churchill also deserved well of William, because he led over his troops in James's army to William's side. After the Revolution was successful, William made him Earl of Marlborough; but William never fully trusted him, because he knew that the new Earl was often plotting with his old master.

In Queen Anne's reign Marlborough at once became the chief man in the government. In spite of his bad conduct in the past, and his greed for money, this was a fortunate thing for England. Marlborough was both the greatest statesman and the greatest general of his time. A great Frenchman said of Marlborough that "he never besieged a fortress that he did not take, never fought a battle that he did not win, and never carried on a negotiation that he did not bring to a successful close." One of his strong points in dealing with men was his unfailing politeness and his good temper. But the chief factor in Marlborough's rise was the fact that his wife, who was devoted to him, was the bosom friend and constant companion of the Queen. The result was that the richest positions and highest honors were given the Marlboroughs, including for him the title of Duke, and the chief command of the English forces.

England needed a general of great ability at this time, for she was once more at war with Louis XIV. of France—this time over the succession to the throne of Spain.

What difference, you may ask, did it make to England who became King of Spain? Ordinarily it made little difference. But now it happened that the chief claimant of the Spanish crown was the "Dauphin" of France—that is, the eldest son of Louis XIV.—and it would never do to permit France and Spain, with their vast colonies and dependencies, to become united under the same rule.

William III. had foreseen this difficulty, and had negotiated "partition treaties" by which Spain and the Spanish colonies were to go to an Austrian Prince, and the French Prince should receive only the Spanish possessions in Italy. This was unsatisfactory to the Spanish people; and when the King of Spain died, in 1700, he left a will giving his whole possessions, not to the Dauphin, but to the Dauphin's second  son. France would go, in the course of time, to the Dauphin's eldest  son, and thus the two countries would not have the same King, though they would be under the same family. It was thought that this would remove the objections of the other nations, but it did not.

Although Louis XIV. had signed the partition treaties, he decided to accept the inheritance offered by the Spanish King's will. He presented his little grandson to the French court, saying—

"Gentlemen, behold the King of Spain!"

He was also reported to have said that "the Pyrenees have ceased to exist." This meant that, thenceforth, Spain and France would be practically one country.

This arrangement disturbed what statesmen called "the balance of power" between the different countries, and Austria and the Dutch republic determined to resist it. The result was a great war, called the War of the Spanish Succession, which lasted for eleven years. It was fought all over western Europe, and in North America. At first the English people took little interest in the matter. But when James II. died, in France (in 1700), Louis XIV. broke his treaty with England by recognizing James's son ("the Pretender," as he was called) as King of England. A storm of indignation then broke out in England, and under Queen Anne that country became the leading member of the "Grand Alliance" against Louis XIV.

Marlborough became commander in chief of the English and Dutch forces, while the commander of the Austrian forces was Prince Eugene of Savoy. Eugene also was a great general, and the relations between two commanders were of the friendliest sort.

The greatest battle of this war was fought in Germany, on the river Danube (1704). A French army had passed through the Black Forest, and was marching down the valley of the Danube, to attack Vienna, the Austrian capital. Marlborough and Prince Eugene came up with them near the little village of Blenheim, and there the battle took place. Both sides fought bravely, but Marlborough and Eugene showed the greater skill and won the victory. In addition to the French who were slain or taken prisoners, thousands of their men were forced back into the river Danube and drowned. That night Marlborough wrote this hasty note to his beloved wife:

Medal in Celebration of Victory at Blenheim

"I have not time to say more than to beg that you will give my duty to the Queen, and let her know that her army has had a glorious victory. The French commander and two of his generals are prisoners, and are in my coach; and I am following the rest. The bearer of this letter will give you an account of what has passed."

The battle of Blenheim was indeed "a glorious victory." It not only saved Vienna from the French, but also restored the ancient fame of the English soldiers.

The war continued for some time after this. In its latter part the Tories, who were opposed to the war, got control of the government in England. Lady Marlborough, also, foolishly quarreled with the Queen. The result was that Marlborough was removed from his command, and then the war did not go so well for the allies.

At last, Louis XIV.—who was now nearing the close of his long reign—made peace. By the treaty of Utrecht (1713) the French Prince received Spain, with its colonies; but it was expressly agreed that France and Spain should never be united under the same King. The Austrians received most of the other Spanish possessions in Europe. England received the rocky fortress of Gibraltar, at the entrance to the Mediterranean Sea, which she had taken in the course of the war, and which she still retains. She also received Newfoundland, Nova Scotia, and the Hudson Bay territory in America. Thus the War of the Spanish Succession not only saved her from having a Stuart King placed over her, but it marked a step in the building up of her colonial empire at the expense of France.

View of Gibraltar

Another event of importance in this reign was the union of England and Scotland. Ever since the time when James I. came to the English throne—except for a short period of time under Cromwell—the two countries had been ruled by the same King, though they had kept their separate Parliaments, and were otherwise separate nations. In Queen Anne's reign, this arrangement was ended by an Act of Union (1707). This provided that one sovereign and one Parliament should rule the two countries under the name of "Great Britain." Scotland received a fair share of members in both the House of Commons and the House of Lords, but neither the Scottish law nor the established Presbyterian church of Scotland was to be changed.

The union of the two countries is indicated in the national flag. The flag of England was white, with a large upright red cross; the flag of Scotland was blue, with a diagonal white cross. In the new flag, the two crosses were united, and the corner of the flag in which the crosses were placed was called the "union." About a century later, Ireland was brought under the same Parliament with Great Britain, and its cross—a red diagonal—was then added to the flag. When a flag is made up of the union only, it is called a "union jack." The union jack, therefore, as it is now used by the British army, consists of a blue flag, bearing on it (1) an upright cross edged with white, (2) a diagonal white cross, and (3) a diagonal red cross.

The Union Jack

As the reign of Anne came to a close, it looked as though the rule of a Stuart and a Catholic would be restored, after all. That this did not happen, says a modern writer, was "the greatest miracle in English history." All of the chief positions in the government were in the hands of the "Jacobites," or supporters of the line of James II.; and they were sending letters to the Pretender, and planning to make him King. But there was one difficulty—the fact that he was a Catholic. He was urged to give up his religion, or at any rate not to show himself openly a Catholic, but he refused.

"How could my subjects ever depend upon me, or be happy under me," he wrote, "if I should use such dishonesty to get myself amongst them?"

This refusal did credit to his heart, but it made the task of his friends very difficult. The final defeat of their plans was due to the facts, first, that Anne died suddenly, in 1714, before the Jacobites were quite ready; and second, that the Whig leaders acted promptly and decidedly, in forcing the Council to carry out the provisions of the Act of Settlement.

The Electress Sophia had died shortly before this, and the heir to the German territory of Hanover, as well as to the kingdom of Great Britain, was her son George. He was accordingly proclaimed at once, as King of Great Britain, under the name of George I., and quietly succeeded to the throne. In this way the house of Hanover, which has ruled Great Britain down to our own day, and has widely extended the British Empire, first secured the crown of the island kingdom.

Topics for Thought and Search

The First Hanoverian Kings

George I. was King of Great Britain for thirteen years, and his son, George II., was King for thirty-three. They were plain, commonplace persons, without much ability, and were more interested in Hanover than they were in England. But they had the good judgment to put in office ministers whom Parliament trusted, and then let them run the government. The ministers usually belonged to the Whig party, for it was to that party that the Hanoverians owed their throne. The reigns of these first two Hanoverian Kings were mainly a time of peaceful development; but the period closed with a great war, from which England profited even more than it did from the time of peace.

George I. could speak no English at all, so he did not attend the meetings of his ministers; and George II., though he could speak English brokenly, followed the same practice. In this way it became the established principle that the ministers, who made up the "Cabinet," and were responsible for carrying on the government, should meet and discuss their plans without the King being present. It was at this time also that the practice arose of one minister being above the others. He was called the Prime Minister, and was the one chiefly responsible for carrying on the government. In this way the Cabinet became more united, and more independent of the King, though it continued to be dependent on Parliament.

The first real Prime Minister was Sir Robert Walpole, who carried on the government for twenty-one years, under George I. and George II. Queen Caroline, the wife of George II., was a wise and tactful woman, and did much to smooth the rough places for Walpole. His policy was, as he said, to "let sleeping dogs lie"; so he did everything to keep England at peace, both at home and abroad. Once when there was a war on the Continent, Walpole said to the Queen:

Sir Robert Walpole

"Madam, there were fifty thousand men slain in Europe this year, and not one of them was an Englishman."

But, towards the end of his long administration, Walpole was obliged, against his will, to begin a small war with Spain.

By the treaty of Utrecht, a limited right to trade with the Spanish colonies had been given to English merchants, and the Spaniards accused the English of abusing this right. The English, in turn, complained that their ships were stopped by the Spanish war vessels, and searched for goods intended to be used in smuggling; and they also complained that English sailors were thrown into Spanish dungeons, and tried by the Spanish Inquisition as heretics. Finally, a Captain Jenkins set all England afire by his story that his ship had been stopped and searched by Spaniards; and that, when they found no evidence of wrong-doing, they angrily cut off his ear. As proof of this story, he showed the ear, which he carried about with him wrapped up in cotton. When asked what his feelings were when he was in the hands of the Spaniards, Jenkins said:

"I commended my soul to God, and my cause to my country."

A Street in London About 1740

Walpole was forced either to go to war, or to resign as Prime Minister. He chose to go to war; but it was against his better judgment.

"They are ringing their bells now," he said, as London rejoiced at the news, "but they will soon be wringing their hands."

Like every war in which England was engaged, in that century, this speedily grew into a war between England and France. Queen Maria Theresa had just succeeded to the throne of Austria, and Frederick the Great of Prussia took advantage of the opportunity to seize a part of the Austrian lands. In the bitter war between Austria and Prussia which followed, France took the side of Prussia. George II., as ruler of Hanover, was jealous of Prussia, and he persuaded the English Parliament to take the side of Austria, against Prussia, Spain, and France.

This War of the Austrian Succession, like that of the Spanish Succession, was fought wherever the two parties confronted one another—in Germany, in Italy, in the Netherlands, on the seas, in America, and in far-off India.

The war in Europe usually went against the English and Austrians, for they had no general equal to Frederick the Great, and no Army like the one he commanded. The English fleets, however, gained some victories, and the English colonists in America captured some places from the French; but in India the English lost to the French most of their trading posts.

As a part of this War of the Austrian Succession, there was a daring attempt to place the Pretender on the English throne. The French collected an army, on their coast, to aid "Prince Charlie," the eldest son of the Pretender, in invading England; but contrary winds prevented the army from crossing the Channel, and it disbanded. The next year (1745) "Prince Charlie" made his way to Scotland with only seven followers, determined to arouse the Jacobites to rebellion. The "Young Pretender," as the English called him, was young, handsome, brave, and polite, so that he won to his support a large following. He took Edinburgh, and then put the English to flight in a battle which lasted only a very sort time. The Jacobites went wild with delight.

"We have a Prince," they said, "who can eat a dry crust, sleep on pease-straw, eat his dinner in four minutes, and win a battle in five."

The Young Pretender resolved to make a dash into England, hoping that the people there would rise and proclaim his father as King. By hard marching, his little army got as far as Derby, within a hundred and thirty miles of the capital; and all London was thrown into a panic. But still there was no sign of an army from France, and the English Jacobites refused to risk their lives uselessly, by rising in rebellion. So the Prince was obliged to retreat to Scotland.

The Young Pretender

Two more battles were fought, in the second of which the Pretender was defeated, and his forces completely scattered.

For five months, "Prince Charlie" then lay hid in different parts of western Scotland, while a large reward was offered for his capture. Many persons must have known his whereabouts, yet so loyal were the Scottish people to "bonnie Prince Charlie" that no one came forward to claim the reward. The Prince finally succeeded in reaching a French vessel, and escaped safely to France.

This was the last real attempt to restore the Stuarts to the British throne, though there are still persons in that kingdom who keep up the form of recognizing a member of the Stuart line as their sovereign.

In 1748, a peace was finally made which ended the War of the Austrian Succession. Frederick the Great kept the territory which he had taken from Austria; but all other conquests, including those made by either party in America and in India, were restored. The only gain which Great Britain made by the long war was the recognition of the Hanoverian Kings by France, and the agreement of France to drive the Pretender from that country.

Topics for Thought and Search

Winning the British Empire

For six or eight years following the War of the Austrian Succession, England and France were at peace. But the enmity between the two nations continued. They now understood that they were really engaged in a world-wide struggle for colonial empire, for the mastery of the seas, and for commercial supremacy. In whatever part of the world English colonists or merchants went, they found Frenchmen disputing the ground, and fighting often occurred between English and French sailors or settlers.

England and France both had colonies in America—the French in the valleys of the St. Lawrence and the Mississippi, and about the Great lakes; and the English along the Atlantic coast, Virginia, Maryland, and the four New England Colonies (Massachusetts, Rhode Island, Connecticut, and New Hampshire) had been founded under James I. and Charles I. New York, New Jersey, the Carolinas, Pennsylvania and Delaware were founded under Charles II. Georgia, the last of the thirteen English colonies, was established in the reign of George II. In addition Great Britain possessed Nova Scotia, Newfoundland, and the Hudson Bay Territory.

The English came as permanent settlers, and their numbers increased rapidly. The French, in the main, came for the fur-trade only, and expected some day to return to their beloved France.

Map of New England and New France

The English colonists soon began to feel that their boundaries were too narrow for them, and turned their gaze toward the great unsettled valleys beyond the Appalachian mountains. They claimed these western lands on the ground that their settlements on the coast gave them a right to the territory clear across the continent. The French, on the other hand, claimed this territory on the ground that their settlements about the mouths of the St. Lawrence and Mississippi gave them the right to all the country drained by these rivers.

To support their claim, the French built a chain of forts connecting the Ohio river with the St. Lawrence, and sent a message to the English colonists, saying that "France would permit no English settlements" on the Ohio. But the English government told the colonists that France "had not the least pretense of right to the territory on the Ohio," and ordered the colonial governors to drive out the French "whenever they are found within the undoubted limits of our provinces."

The result was a struggle between the English and French in America, which in turn contributed to a renewal of the war in Europe. The chief of the French forts was Fort Duquesne at "the Forks of the Ohio," where the city of Pittsburgh now stands. The governor of the colony of Virginia sent a young Virginian, named George Washington, with a small body of troops, to prevent the building of this fort; but they were unsuccessful, and were obliged to return home. The next year (1755), General Braddock was sent over, with British regular soldiers, and tried to capture Fort Duquesne. He marched carelessly through the forest, not heeding Washington's caution to beware of hidden French and Indians; so his troops were surprised and defeated, and he himself was slain.

In Europe, meanwhile, the leading nations were drifting into war. Its chief cause was the desire of Austria to recover the lands which Frederick the Great had taken from her. To do this, she made a secret league with Russia and Saxony, to attack Prussia and to divide the Prussian territories. Frederick the Great learned through his spies of this agreement, and resolved to strike first. This he did, in 1756, by marching his army into Saxony; and thus the war began.

England and France both entered into this European war, as usual, and on opposite sides. England now took the side of Prussia, because Austria would not promise to protect Hanover; and France was won over to the side of Austria, in spite of the fact that France and Austria had been fighting each other for two hundred years. The war in Europe is known as "the Seven Years' War," from the length of time that it lasted. The English colonists in America called it "the French and Indian War." Like the preceding one, this war was fought in Europe, in America, in India, and on the sea. The changes which it produced were among the greatest in history.

During the first two years of the war, England accomplished very little, either in Europe or in America. One of the English statesmen explained this by saying:

"We first engaged in war, and then began to prepare ourselves."

The government at this time was very badly managed. The Prime Minister was a fussy nobleman who owed his power entirely to his wealth and family influence, and not to any ability which he had. Men openly made fun of him, and said that he acted as if he "had lost a half-hour in the morning, and was running after it all the rest of the day."

But there was one man in political life who had the ability, and the determination, and the patriotism, and the eloquence, to carry on the government properly, if he only had the chance. This was William Pitt, who afterward became Earl of Chatham. But Pitt did not belong to the great noble families of England, and it was very rare for any man, at that time, to become Prime Minister unless he belonged to this select governing circle. Moreover, Pitt had angered George II. by opposing his plans for Hanover.

Nevertheless, things went so badly, and the people demanded Pitt so loudly, that the King was at last obliged to yield, and to appoint him to the chief place in the government.

William Pitt, Earl of Chatham

"Sire, give me your confidence," said Pitt, "and I will deserve it."

"Deserve my confidence," replied the King, "and you shall have it."

On both sides the promise was full kept. Pitt had proudly said:

"I know that I can save the country, and that no one else can."

This spirit of self-confidence he succeeded in inspiring in others also. It was said that "no one ever entered Pitt's room who did not come out of it braver man." He put his whole heart into his work, and soon stirred up all departments of the government to great activity. He appointed officers in the navy and army, not for favor or because of their family connections, but solely on account of their energy and ability. Thus, he soon overcame the effects of other men's bad management, and began to win victories.

In America, the turning point of the war came in 1759. The greatest stronghold of the French was at Quebec, on the St. Lawrence river; and against that place Pitt sent an expedition under General Wolfe, whom he chose in preference to older officers because he believed in the young man's ability.

General James Wolfe

The French army, under Montcalm, were in a strong camp below the city; and Wolfe tried in vain, for three months, to drive them from this position. At last he determined to surprise the city, by climbing the narrow paths up the rocky cliffs which led to the Heights of Abraham in its rear. At dead of night, and with the utmost secrecy, this was accomplished. Next morning, Montcalm saw that he must come out and fight, or the city would be taken.

Both Wolfe and Montcalm lost their lives in the battle which followed. As Wolfe lay mortally wounded, on the ground, he heard one of his officers cry out:

"They run! See how they run!"

"Who run?" asked the dying hero, eagerly.

"The enemy, sir," was the reply. "They give way everywhere."

"Now God be praised," said Wolfe; "I will die in peace."

In a few days, Quebec surrendered; and next year all of Canada passed into English hands. Fort Duquesne had been taken, and was re-named "Fort Pitt," in honor of England's great statesman. From Spain, which aided France, English fleets took Havana, in the island of Cuba, and the Philippine Islands, in the Far East.

In India, also, the English fought the French during the great Seven Years' War.

There, the East India Company, founded in Queen Elizabeth's time, had established three great trading posts—at Bombay, Madras, and Calcutta. It had long been forced to struggle against a rival French company, whose agents were enlisting native soldiers, called "Sepoys," and building up a political power in that rich but unwarlike land. In self-defence, the English company was obliged to do likewise. As a result of these rivalries, war followed, beginning in India, as it did in America, before it broke out in Europe.

Fortunately for the English company, it had in its employ a young man named Robert Clive, who had gone to India as one of its clerks, but had exchanged the pen for the sword. Clive first won fame by marching a small body of English Sepoys—through thunder, lightning, and rain—and seizing a fortress, which he held successfully against the attacks of a much larger force, assisted by the French. When food ran short, during the siege, his Sepoys came to him and said:

"Master, give us the water in which the rice is boiled. That is enough to feed us; the Europeans need the grain."

This loyalty of the Sepoys, and his own skill and daring, enabled Clive to defeat the French, and to lay the foundations of the British rule in India.

Map of India

His next important battle was fought against the "Nabob" (or ruler) of Bengal, whom the French stirred up to seize Calcutta. With great cruelty, this Nabob shut up one hundred and forty-five Englishmen, and one English woman, in a close dungeon less than twenty feet square. When that dreadful summer night was past, only twenty-three of their number came out alive. The rest had perished, from lack of air, and crowding, in that terrible "Black Hole" of Calcutta. To punish the Nabob, Clive fought the battle of Plassey. With only one thousand Europeans and four thousand Sepoys, he defeated ten times their number of the Nabob's troops.

This, and other victories, completely destroyed the French influence in India, and laid the foundations of an English power that has lasted until the present day. The Company grew enormously wealthy. Many of its officers returned to England, after their service in India, with fortunes which enabled them to live in great luxury. It was some time, however, before the Company began to add the control of the governments of India to its control of the trade.

Meanwhile, in Europe, Frederick the Great was hard pressed. At first he won brilliant victories; but soon he was attacked by three countries at once, and his victories changed to defeats. Twice he was in despair, and thought that all was lost. Once Berlin, his capital, was captured. Each time he succeeded, somehow, in saving himself. But his resources were almost gone, and he was only able to continue the war because of the large sums of money which Pitt continued to send him, with the design of "conquering America in Germany."

Just at this time (1760), King George II. of England died, and his grandson, George III., came to the throne. George III. was an earnest and hardworking young man, but he was narrow-minded and obstinate. His mother had said to him, again and again, "George, be King"; and in order really to be King, he thought that he must throw off the influence of the great Whig families, and manage the government himself.

So, the chief power in the government was taken from Pitt, in spite of his great victories, and the payments to Frederick were stopped. Fortunately for Frederick, Russia made peace at this time; and he was thus able to hold out against Austria until she also gave up the struggle. He not merely saved his country from division among his enemies, be he succeeded in keeping the lands which he had taken in the former war. But he never forgave England for deserting him.

Peace between England and France was made, at Paris, in 1763. England did not gain all that Pitt had hoped for, but her gain was very great indeed. In America she received from France all of Canada, and a clear title to the country between the Appalachian Mountains and the Mississippi River. Spain was glad to buy back Havana and the Philippines by giving her Florida. In India, although the French retained a few trading points, the supremacy of the English was thenceforth recognized.

Largely as a result of Pitt's efforts, Great Britain thus became one of the most powerful countries of the world. Half of North America was subject to her, and she planted her power in India. Her warships controlled the seas, and her trading vessels passed to and fro to the ends of the earth. By exploration and settlement she added Australia, and the two great islands of New Zealand, to her dominions; and early in the nineteenth century she took South Africa from the Dutch, in war, and made the beginnings of another great group of colonies there.

Through good fortune, the enterprise and daring of her people, and the foresight of men like William Pitt, there were thus laid the foundations of the greatest dominions that the world has ever seen, under single rule—the modern British Empire, whose proud boast is, that "on its lands the sun never sets."

Topics for Thought and Search

George III. and the American Revolution

George III. came to the throne in 1760, and reigned until 1820. His reign covered a period of sixty years, which is longer than any other English sovereign has ruled, except Queen Victoria. It was a very important reign because in it occurred many great changes.

George III

Unlike George I. and George II., who were more German than English, George III. took deep interest in British affairs. In his first speech to Parliament, he said:

"Born and educated in this country, I glory in the name of Briton."

Unfortunately, his mother and his teachers had filled his mind with the idea that he must really rule as well as reign—that is, that he must impose his own will upon the government, rather than be guided by the heads of the great Whig families who ruled Parliament. If he had been a strong and wise man, this might have been an improvement. But although he was a good man, he was rather dull, and stupid, and very obstinate; and during the latter part of his reign he was insane most of the time. The result was that, as a great historian of England says: "He inflicted more profound and enduring injuries upon his country than any modern English King. He spent a long life in obstinately resisting measures which are now almost universally admitted to have been good, and in supporting measures which are as universally admitted to have been bad."

When Pitt, who had won such victories for England against France, found that his advice was no longer followed, he resigned his office, saying:

"I will not be responsible for measures which I am no longer allowed to guide."

The Tories, who before had longed for a King of the Stuart line, gave their support to George III. The King also built up, in the House of Commons, a party of "the King's friends," upon whom they could rely. To those who promised to support him, and to their friends, he gave rich offices; Some members were bought by giving them profitable contracts for government supplies. Others were bribed outright, with gifts and money. In the elections to the House of Commons the King used all his influence, to see that persons who would support his measures were elected.

All this was according to the evil practice of that time; but it was a new thing for the King  to build up support by this means. It enabled him to get a party in the House of Commons which was numerous enough to make its support necessary to any ministry. When it suited the King's pleasure, his "friends" in the Commons voted against his own ministers, so that he became their master in fact as well as in name. George III. was like Charles I., in his desire to rule according to his own will. Unlike Charles, however, he did not attempt to override Parliament, but controlled it by corrupting its members.

One of King George's great mistakes was in urging his ministers to prosecute a Whig member of Parliament named John Wilkes. In No. 45 of a magazine which he published, Wilkes had declared that a passage about the peace with France, in the King's speech to Parliament was false. Everyone knew that it was the practice for the ministers to write the speeches made by the King, but George III. took Wilkes's statement was an attack upon himself. Wilkes was accordingly arrested, but in such a way that the court released him, on the ground that the arrest was illegal.

At the next session of Parliament, the House of Commons expelled Wilkes, and caused a copy of No. 45 of his magazine to be burned by the hangman. Wilkes now fled from England, and for four years lived in France. When the next elections to Parliament took place he returned, and was elected from Middlesex, the county in which London is situated. The people showed that they were on his side by chalking the figures "45" everywhere—on street doors, on carriages, and even on the boot soles of the Austrian ambassador, whom they dragged from his carriage for that purpose. Benjamin Franklin, who was then in England, said that there was scarcely a house within fifteen miles of London that did not have this number marked upon it.

Still, Wilkes was not allowed to take his seat in Parliament. The House of Commons again expelled him; and when he was again elected they declared that he should never be capable of sitting in that body. However, in the end, Wilkes was victorious. Some years later he was permitted to take his seat; and then, nearly twenty years after the struggle first began, the House of Commons erased from its journals all the votes which it had passed against him. It was not because of his character that Wilkes triumphed, for he was a man of bad character. It was because he opposed the arbitrary acts of George III.'s government, and because he stood for personal liberty and the freedom of the press.

These were not the only complaints that the people had against the government. Meetings were held to protest against the corrupt means by which the King secured support in Parliament. In 1780, a great Whig orator, named Edmund Burke, introduced a bill to abolish a large number of useless offices, and to reduce the amount of money which the King's government might spend without giving an account of it. His object was to make it less easy for the King to corrupt Parliament. The bill was not passed, at this time. But the discussion of it resulted in the passage of a resolution, in the House of Commons, which declared that—

"The influence of the Crown has increased, is increasing, and ought to be diminished."

Two years later, another reform bill, based on the same principles as that which Burke had introduced, passed the House of Commons, and became law.

In spite of "the King's friends" George III. had lost a great share of that arbitrary power which he had built up so carefully. In part, this was due to his action against Wilkes; but it was due in a still larger part to the unwise measures by which, meanwhile, he lost the Thirteen American Colonies.

The Seven Years' War had freed the American colonies from their French enemies, and given them a great western country into which their settlements could spread. It had also given them a knowledge of their own strength, and loosened the ties which bound them to the mother country. With the danger of French attack removed, they had no further need of British protection. The French Minister saw this, and, soon after the close of the war, he said:

"England will, one day, call upon her colonies to contribute towards supporting the burdens which they have helped to bring upon her; and they will answer by making themselves independent.

The colonies had mines of iron and coal, forests, navigable rivers, and excellent harbors, and were fitted by nature not only for agriculture, but also for manufactures and commerce. Many people, therefore, engaged in the building of ships and in trade. England's treatment of its colonies was very much better than that which any other country gave to its colonies at this time, and even such laws as did limit their commerce were, for a long time, allowed to remain unenforced. Thus the colonies flourished, and grew strong.

But, after the war with France, the ministers adopted a new policy. They determined to enforce the old trade laws, which were intended mainly for the benefit of the British merchants, and not for the benefit of the colonists. They also proposed to leave some troops permanently in America for the defence of the colonies and called upon Parliament to tax the colonies to support the troops, and to help pay the cost of government there.

Parliament accordingly passed a Stamp Act for the colonies, like that still in force in Great Britain. This provided that every legal paper written in the colonies should be on stamped paper, to be bought from the government; and that every newspaper must be printed on stamped paper. At best, this act would not have raised much revenue; and, as it was, the people in the colonies made a great outcry against it. They refused to use the stamped paper; they held meetings to protest against it; and they sent representative to a "Stamp Act congress," at New York, which declared that "taxation without representation is tyranny."

Many of the leading Whigs in England also opposed the Stamp Act. When the colonists refused to allow the stamped paper to be sold, Pitt said:

"I rejoice that America has resisted."

The next year there was a change in the ministry, and the Stamp Act was repealed. But, at the same time, Parliament declared that it had power to make laws for the colonies "in all cases whatsoever." Pitt and Burke opposed this declaration, not because they believed that Parliament did not have such power, but because they thought that this declaration would only anger the colonists.

Soon after this, Parliament passed another law, which laid tariff duties on several kinds of goods, including tea, when brought into the colonies. The colonists resisted this law also, and formed associations which pledged themselves not to use any goods on which the tax had been paid. Little by little the trouble grew, until some British troops in Boston, who were attacked by a mob, fired upon the crowd and killed several persons. This was the famous "Boston massacre,"—the first blood shed in the quarrel.

In 1773 a special effort was made to collect the tax on the tea, and several shiploads were sent over, at a cheap price, to tempt the colonists to buy. Almost everywhere, they refused to take the tea. At Boston, there occurred the famous "Boston Tea-Party," when a number of men, disguised as Indians, boarded the tea-ships and threw the tea into the harbor. Of this, the American poet, Oliver Wendell Holmes, humorously wrote:

"No! ne'er was mingled such a draught

In palace, hall, or arbor,

As freemen brewed and tyrants quaffed

That night in Boston harbor!

.   .   .   .    .   .   .   .   .    .   .

"Fast spread the tempest's darkening pall,

The mighty realms were troubled,

The storm broke loose—but first of all

The Boston tea-pot bubbled!"

To punish Boston, its port was closed—that is, ships were forbidden to land goods there, and its trade was stopped. The Massachusetts charter was taken away, and a military governor was placed over the colony.

These acts not only angered Boston, but aroused the other colonies. In 1774, they came together, at Philadelphia, in the First Continental Congress, to form a united resistance.

War broke out between the mother country and the rebellious colonies next year, when a small body of British troops was sent from Boston to capture some ammunition which the colonists had collected at Concord. At Lexington they were met by American "minute men," and several of the Americans were killed. The troops kept on to Concord, and destroyed the ammunition. But a larger body of minute men quickly gathered, and there, at Concord bridge, as the poet Emerson says:

"The embattled farmers stood

And fired the shot heard 'round the world."

On the return, the minute men lined the stone walls along the road, from behind which they fired upon the wearied troops. Next day, the whole country rose. Boston was besieged; men flocked in from the neighboring colonies; and soon George Washington was sent by the Continental Congress as commander-in-chief of the American forces. The war of the American Revolution had at last begun.

The people of Great Britain generally supported their government in its policy. Edward Gibbon, a great historian and member of Parliament, wrote before the war broke out:

"I am more and more convinced that we have both the right and the power on our side. We are now arrived at the decisive moment of persevering, or of losing forever both our trade and empire."

After the fighting had begun, he wrote: "I have not the courage to write about America. The boldest tremble, and the most vigorous talk of peace. And yet not more than sixty-five rank and file have been killed." And again: "The conquest of America is a great work; every part of the continent is either lost or useless."

On the other hand, Charles James Fox, who was now one of the great leaders of the Whig party, never lost an opportunity of showing his sympathy for the American cause, and rejoicing at its victories. He and his little band of followers adopted as their colors those which Washington made the uniform of the Continental army—buff and blue.

When the British government hired Hessian soldiers for America, the great Pitt said:

"You cannot conquer America. If I were an American, while a foreign troop was landed in my country, I never would lay down my arms—never, never, never!"

At first, the American colonists fought only for relief from oppressive laws and had no intention of seeking independence. But gradually their ideas grew larger, and on July 4, 1776, the Continental Congress adopted a Declaration of Independence. After giving the reasons for their separation, this document declared that—

"These united colonies are, and of right ought to be, free and independent states."

It was a hard struggle upon which the colonists had embarked. They drove the British from Boston, but were themselves driven out of New York City. Then the British captured Philadelphia, and made ready to separate New England from the other colonies by sending an army under General Burgoyne up the Hudson, to meet one which was to come down from Canada. Fortunately for the American cause, this attempt failed, and Burgoyne was obliged to surrender his 7,000 men at Saratoga, in October, 1777.

This was a great victory for the Americans. Nevertheless, their army spent the next winter at Valley Forge, in Pennsylvania, amid terrible hardships. General Washington, who never spoke carelessly, said that many of his men were "without clothes to cover their nakedness, without blankets to lie on, without shoes, for the want of which their marches might be traced by the blood from their feet." Unless help came from abroad, the colonies would surely be conquered.

But help did come. The French had long been watching for an opportunity to take revenge upon their old enemy, England. They had secretly helped the Americans, before this, by sending them money and supplies, and by letting French officers, like Lafayette, come over to assist them. The victory over Burgoyne now encouraged the French government to come out openly, in aid of the colonists; and, in 1778, a treaty was made, by which France recognized the independence of the United States, and agreed to renew her war with Great Britain. More money and supplies were sent to the Americans, and French soldiers and French fleets came to their assistance. The next year Spain also made war upon Great Britain; and two years after that, Holland did likewise.

In England, the news of Burgoyne's surrender was for a time helpful to the government. Instead of discouraging the people, it made them more determined than ever to subdue the colonies. But the news of the alliance between France and the colonies caused a change. Pitt proposed that the soldiers should be called back from America, that the colonies should be allowed to have their way in everything except out-and-out independence, and that the two parts of the Empire should then unite in a common war against France.

Many people at this time demanded that Pitt should be restored to power. But he was now an old man, suffering from a painful disease. One day (in 1778) he had himself carried to the House of Lords, of which he was now a member as Earl of Chatham; and he spoke passionately against a motion to grant independence of America. He was opposed, he said, to "the dismemberment of this ancient and noble monarchy." The effort was too much for him, and he fell senseless to the floor. He was carried to his home, and four weeks later he died. Perhaps it was well that he did not live to see the dismemberment of the great empire which his genius had contributed so much to build.

In 1780, the British changed the seat of war and attacked the southern colonies. After much fighting, Lord Cornwallis, who was at the head of their army marched north into Virginia, and took up a position at Yorktown, on Chesapeake Bay. Here he was surrounded by a French and American land force, under Washington. A French fleet succeeded in beating off the British fleet, and Cornwallis was forced to surrender (October, 1781). This was the second great disaster which the British experienced in this war.

It was, indeed, the real end of the war, so far as America was concerned. For a time, fighting continued between the British fleets and those of France, Holland, and Spain. But, in 1783, a peace was made, at Paris, between all parties. England gave up some territory to France—an island in the West Indies, and some African coast lands; while to Spain she surrendered Florida. Most important of all, she acknowledged the independence of the United States. The boundaries of the new nation were to be Canada and the Great Lakes on the north, the Mississippi river on the west, and Florida on the south.

At the beginning of the war, Great Britain possessed, in America, not only what her own colonists had founded, but also what she had taken from France, and from Spain, in 1763. Now, she was left with Canada alone—a vast and important domain, but cold and inhospitable.

The loss of the American colonies seemed, at the time, a great calamity. But the British Empire has become greater and more powerful, since the separation, than it ever was before; and in America there has developed a great nation, of kindred speech and institutions.

England learned many lessons from this war. One of these was how to rule colonies without oppressing them, and so to keep them a source of strength. Another and greater lesson was this; that the government must obey the will of the people, and not that of the King. The war not only brought independence to the American colonies; it formed an important step, also, in the process by which greater political liberty was gained by the people of Great Britain.

Topics for Thought and Search

Industrial and Social Changes

While Great Britain was winning Canada and India, and losing the Thirteen Colonies, important changes were taking place at home in ways of manufacturing and in modes of living.

From the early days of civilization, to the end of the Middle Ages, there had been little change in the tools used by such workers as the spinner, weaver, the farmer and carpenter. Now there came a series of inventions which greatly increased the product of man's labor, and changed his whole manner of living.

The first important changes came in spinning and weaving. The art of spinning fibers into thread, and weaving this into cloth, was one of the oldest of human arts. But, for thousands of years, it had changed very little. The wool or cotton was placed on a "distaff," held under the left arm, while the fibers were drawn out and twisted into thread with a "spindle," twirled by the right had. This was the method used in ancient Greece and Egypt, as shown by, their monuments. This was still the method generally used in modern Europe, almost down to the eighteenth century. Then the "spinning-wheel"—first run by hand, and later by foot—began to come into use, and increased the speed of spinning. But, at best, the spinning wheel could only spin two threads at a time, and its work was far from rapid.

Hand Spinning Wheel

All this was changed, in the second half of the eighteenth century. First, an ignorant but ingenious man, named James Hargreaves, invented a machine which he called a "spinning jenny." This drove eight spindles, and (in later forms) even eighty spindles, at the same time. This invention alone caused an enormous increase in the amount of thread spun; but the changes did not stop here. Soon a man named Richard Arkwright invented another sort of spinning machine, which he called a "water-frame," because it was run by water-power and not by hand power. Then Samuel Crompton had the happy thought to combine the best features of the "jenny" and the "water-frame," into a machine which he called "the mule," because of its mixed character.

When these improvements were fully completed, it became possible for a single person—even a little child—to attend to a number of machines, and to spin as high as twelve thousand threads at a time. In this way, far more thread was manufactured than the old hand looms could weave into cloth.

Spinning Jenny

If you examine a piece of cloth, you will see that it is made up of two sets of threads, crossing each other at right angles. The treads running lengthwise are called the "warp," and those running crosswise are called the "weft." In the old hand loom the shuttle, which carries the weft, was thrown back and forth across the warp by hand. Two men were necessary to operate the loom, one throwing the shuttle from one side, and the other throwing it back. The first improvement in the method of weaving was made in 1738, when a "flying shuttle" was invented which returned of itself to the weaver, without the help of a second person. As the new improvements in spinning began to come into effect, and the amount of thread spun increased so enormously, men began to feel that further changes in weaving were necessary. A clergyman, named Dr. Cartwright, showed what these might be.

"Why does not someone," he asked one day, of some gentlemen with whom he was talking, "invent a loom which can be run by water or steam-power?"

"It can't be done," they all replied, very positively.

"I am sure that it can  be done," replied Dr. Cartwright; and he set to work to prove it.

He had never invented anything, and he had never seen a loom in operation. But, in three years' time, he produced a power loom which really wove cloth, in a rude and clumsy fashion. By later inventions, he greatly improved this first effort, so that it became the father of all great cloth-weaving looms of later times. With the power loom, weavers became able to keep up with the spinners, and cloth became much cheaper and more plentiful than it had ever been before.

At first, the looms were run by water power, which had been used for ages to run flour and grist mills. But water power in the streams changed with the seasons; moreover, it was not to be had at all places. Fortunately, it was not long before the steam engine was invented, to aid not only the spinning and weaving, but the countless other operations of modern life to which machinery was soon applied.

For nearly two thousand years men had known of the expansive power of steam; but it was not until the beginning of the eighteenth century that this force was made practically useful, in the form of a steam pump for pumping water out of mines. The illustration on page 300 shows the form of this crude engine. The steam entered a "cylinder" under the "piston-head," and thus raised the cross-beam. The top of the cylinder was open, and when the steam under the piston-head was sufficiently condensed by cooling, the pressure of the air above forced back the piston, and all was ready for another stroke. The troubles with this early steam engine were chiefly these: it was very slow and weak in its action; it wasted a great amount of steam, and so used up much fuel; and it could only work in one direction.

The real inventor of the modern steam engine was James Watt, a maker of mathematical and astronomical instruments. While repairing a model of one of these early steam pumps, he noticed its waste of steam, and set to work to remedy it. It would take too long to describe all of the changes which he made. It is enough to say that his first changes made the steam engine quick-working, powerful, and saving of fuel; but it was still useful only for pumping. His later inventions, however, enabled it to turn a wheel, and so adapted it to all kinds of work. In 1785, the steam engine was first applied to running spinning machinery, and its use spread rapidly. By the end of the eighteenth century, there were as many steam engines in use in England as there were water and wind mills.

Early Steam Engine for Pumping

But engines and machinery are largely made of iron, and, until the latter part of the eighteenth century, iron was scarce and costly. So all these inventions would have been of little use if it had not been for improvements in the manufacture of iron and steel.

For ages iron ore had been "smelted"—that is, melted and freed of its impurities—by mixing it with burning charcoal. But the forests of England, from which the charcoal was made, were decreasing rapidly, and it was clear that little increase could be made in the amount of iron produced, as long as charcoal was used as the fuel. It was found, however, that the smelting could be done just as well, and much cheaper, by using coke, made from ordinary coal; and the supply of coal was abundant. At the same time, the bellows, which fanned the fire and made it burn with sufficient heat, were replaced by other inventions which gave a stronger and steadier draft; and improvements were also made in the tools for hammering out the iron for wrought iron, and in casting it. Furthermore, Watt's improved engines benefited mining, by making it easier and cheaper to pump out water, and so to operate deep mines. From year to year these improvements have gone steadily on, and the result is that the supply of this necessary metal has constantly become more plentiful and cheap, as the increased use of machinery has created new demands for it.

Important changes were also made in the conditions under which manufacturing was done. Formerly, manufacturing was carried on under the "domestic system"—that is, each workman (a weaver, or the like), set up his own tools, in his own house, and used materials which he himself paid for; then when his goods were made he sold them to the dealers, and received the price for them himself. He was his own employer, and supplied his own capital; he worked when he pleased, and how he pleased; and his wife and children assisted him. Ordinarily, too, he had a garden, or little farm, which he cultivated; and so he was not dependent for his living entirely on his manufacturing.

The new inventions caused the "factory system" to take the place of the "domestic system." Machines in large numbers were now brought together under the roof of one "factory," in order to take advantage of the steam or water power; and these were the property of an "employer" who hired people for "wages" to run them. The employer supplied the materials, and received the manufactured good, which he sold as he pleased. The work people had to move to the crowded towns, where usually the factories were situated, and so they could no longer have their gardens. In these ways, the working people became more dependent on their employers, and the problems of "labor" and "lack of employment" first began to arise. The fact that women, and little children often only six years old, were hired for a great deal of the work, and that they were forced to labor long hours, in dark, close, and unhealthy rooms, gave rise to additional problems, which by and by demanded solution.

With these changes in manufacturing, there came also changes in the means of transportation.

Stage Coach

Down to the eighteenth century, the means of travel and transportation remained just about what they were in the most ancient days—except that the roads were often worse than they had been under the Roman Empire. Half of the year, the only means of travel was on horseback, because of the mud-holes with which the roads were filled. Heavy articles—such as grain, coal, iron, and the like—could scarcely be carried from place to place; and often scarcity, or famine, might prevail in one district, while another district had more than enough, but could still not get its produce to the market. About the year 1640, stage coaches came into use in England, but often it took three weeks for one of these to go from London to Edinburgh.

In the last half of the eighteenth century, improvement began through the "turnpike" roads, which were kept in repair with the money collected as "tolls" from those who used them. Better methods of road-making were introduced by skilled engineers. The most noted of these was a Scotchman, named MacAdam, whose name is still remembered in our "macadamized" roads. These roads made possible the use of carriages all the year round, while new "fast mail coaches" were established to run between the chief parts of England, in what then seemed like an incredibly short time. Canals were also built, which greatly cheapened the cost of carrying such bulky goods as coal and iron. It was not until the next century that the steam railroad and the steamboat were introduced; but already changes were being produced by these improvements, which were only a little less important than those which the railroad brought.

"It is scarcely half a century," says a writer of this time, "since the inhabitants of the distant counties were regarded as almost as different from those of the capital as the natives of the Cape of Good Hope. Their manners, as well as their speech, were entirely provincial; and their dress no more resembled that of London than the Turkish or Chinese. A journey into the country was then considered almost as great an undertaking as a voyage to the Indies. The old family coach was sure to be stowed with all sorts of luggage and provisions; and, perhaps, in the course of the journey a whole village, together with their teams, might be called on to aid in digging the heavy carriage out of the clay. But now the improvements in traveling have opened a new communication between the capital and the most distant parts of the kingdom. The manners, fashions, and amusements of the capital now make their way to the remotest corners of the land. French cooks are employed, the same wines are drunk, the same gaming practiced, the same hours kept, and the same course of life pursued, in the country as in town. Every male and female wishes to think and speak, to eat and drink, and dress and live after the manner of people of quality of London."

One result of the introduction of machinery was to increase the wealth, and hence the importance, of the tradesmen and manufacturers. The old aristocratic organization of society, which regarded certain persons as better than others merely because of their better birth, began to give way, and a democratic influence began to be felt. The working classes profited, in the end, not merely in better clothes and better food and better lodging, but in better education and more political rights. But these changes came only gradually, and mostly after the eighteenth century had passed.

Scene in a Farmhouse Kitchen

Simpler modes of dress and of life, however, came before the century was out. Gentlemen began to leave off wearing the sword, and the powdered wigs which once they all wore. Cocked hats went out of fashion, and pantaloons too the place of knee-breeches. Umbrellas were introduced. From about 1750, pianos began to appear in the houses of the wealthy. The better classes of tradesmen ceased to live over their stores, and the apprentices were no longer lodged with their masters. Men's dress generally became less showy than it had been. Women's costumes became more brilliantly colored and finer, as a result of the new calicoes and other dress goods, which could now be easily and cheaply obtained. In general, the last twenty years of the eighteenth century and the first twenty years of the nineteenth saw greater changes in dress and manners than for two centuries before.

Deeper than any change in dress and manners was a change in religion, which came in the middle and latter part of this century. This was due to the rise of the "Methodists" (as they were called), first within the established Church of England, and then as a separate church denomination. Unlike most of the other changes related in this chapter, the rise of the Methodists had little connection with the rise of manufactures. It began at the University of Oxford, and was a reaction against the lifeless preaching and worldly lives of so many of the English clergy, who thought more of horses, hounds, and hunting than they did of their religious duties.

The chief leaders in this movement were two brothers—John and Charles Wesley—and their friend, George Whitefield. They preached to the common people, in the mining and manufacturing towns, and in the great cities, urging them to forsake evil ways and reform their lives. At times, crowds of twenty thousand persons gathered in the open air, to hear them. So earnest were the preachers, and so vividly did they picture the terrors of the hereafter, that men, women, and children would be seized with fits of trembling and shouting, and fall down in convulsions.

John Wesley was the head of the movement. Charles Wesley was its poet, and wrote many hymns for it. Whitefield was even a greater preacher than the Wesleys. During thirty-four years, he preached on average ten times a week. Twelve times he went on preaching trips through Scotland, three times through Ireland, and seven times he visited America. The results of his labors in the American colonies were almost as notable as in the British Isles.

In England, the Methodist movement was strongly opposed by the clergy and upper classes, and also at times by mobs of the common people. But in the end it won a great success. When John Wesley died, in 1791, his followers numbered 100,000. His influence, too, had aroused the established church to greater earnestness and more spiritual religion. And all classes, as a result of these labors, came to have more sympathy for the oppressed, which showed itself in movements to improve the condition of prisoners in jails, and to stop the trade in slaves.

The inventions spoken of in this chapter were all first worked out in Great Britain, and the changes which they produced are often spoken of as the "Industrial Revolution." It was important that it should be accompanied by the great moral and religious revolution described above. The immediate effect of the Industrial Revolution was very greatly to increase the wealth and power of England. Her cheap machine-made goods enabled England to undersell other countries. She soon became the first manufacturing country, as she was already the first country in the amount of her commerce. Her population also increased rapidly. In 1700, England had only 5,000,000 inhabitants; in 1760, there were 6,000,000; in 1800, the number had risen to 9,000,000.

It was chiefly the wealth and power which Great Britain gained from her newly arisen manufactures which prevented her feeling the loss of her American colonies; and it was from this source that she gained the strength which enabled her to resist Napoleon Bonaparte, and finally bring about his overthrow.

Topics for Thought and Search

England and the French Revolution

The last and greatest of the wars of England against France grew out of the French Revolution, in which the people of that country put to death their King, set up a republic, and sought to extend their principles to other countries.

The common people, in France, were not so badly off as were the peoples of Germany and the countries of eastern Europe, but their lot was worse than in England. In the towns, the old "guilds," or companies of workers, controlled the different industries, and the introduction of machinery had scarcely begun. In the country, the peasants were burdened with many payments and services which were absent in England. The nobles and clergy paid almost no taxes, while the "third estate" (as the common people were called) paid very heavy ones.

"I should be lost," said one peasant who had managed to get together a little property, "if it were suspected that I am not dying of hunger."

But, while the government took so much from the people, it gave them very little in return. The money was wasted on the foolish pleasures of the King and his court, in useless wars, and in reckless gifts and pensions to the great nobles. The King imprisoned people at his pleasure, and there was nothing like the English system of trial by jury to safeguard personal liberty. His power was absolute, and there was no assembly like the English Parliament to vote taxes and check his will.

Not content with the proceeds of heavy taxes, the French government recklessly borrowed great sums of money, without stopping to think how they should be repaid. In the end, the government became practically bankrupt. No more money could be raised by ordinary means, and it was necessary to take some extraordinary step.

This was done in 1789, when the Estates General was called together. This was a legislative assembly which had been used in the Middle Ages, but had been discontinued for nearly three hundred years. The representatives of the "third estate" took control, and bound themselves by an oath not to separate until they had given France a constitution. King Louis XVI. and his Queen, Marie Antoinette could not make up their minds frankly to accept these changes, so the Revolution grew more radical. Finally, when their friends stirred up Austria and Prussia to make war on France, in order to restore the French King and Queen to their former power, a republic was established. Soon after, Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette were put to death by the "guillotine" (an instrument for beheading). A Reign of Terror was then established, which drove into exile, or put to death, all nobles and clergy who would not support the new republic.

Guillotine

The watchwords of the Revolution were "Liberty, Fraternity, and Equality"; and in the interests of "fraternity," or brotherhood, the French offered helping hands to all peoples everywhere, who sought to change their governments.

"All governments are our enemies," cried one of their speakers, "all peoples are our friends! We shall be destroyed, or they shall be free!"

The French tried, therefore, to stir up revolution in England. Moreover, they annexed Belgium and other neighboring states to France, and threatened to conquer Holland, which was England's old ally. As a result of these acts, and of the horror felt in England at the execution of the French King, war soon broke out between England and France, which lasted (with two brief intermissions) from 1793 to 1815.

This war was on a greater scale than any in which England had ever before been engaged. All of the countries of Europe were forced, at one time or another, to take sides in it. Until late in the war, Great Britain sent no soldiers to fight, on the Continent, against the armies of France. Her part was to supply the money which enabled her allies to maintain their armies, and to guard the seas with her fleets.

Three years after the beginning of the war, Napoleon Bonaparte rose to be the chief general of the French armies. He was then only twenty-seven years old, and was so short and thin that his soldiers nicknamed him "the little Corporal." But his mind was remarkably quick and intelligent, and he acted with energy and determination. When he took command of the French Army in Italy, he addressed it in these words:

Napoleon Bonaparte

"Soldiers, you are ill-fed and almost naked. The government owes you much, but can do nothing for you. Your patience and courage do you honor, but procure you neither glory nor profit. I am about to lead you into the most fertile plains of the world. There you will find great cities and rich provinces; there you will win honor, glory, and riches. Soldiers of the army of Italy, will you lack courage?"

Fired by the spirit of their commander, and guided by his genius, Bonaparte's soldiers soon conquered all northern Italy, and forced Austria to make peace. France was left free to carry on her war with England, for her other continental enemies made peace before the Italian campaign began.

The great problem, in attacking Great Britain, was how to reach her. Ireland seemed to be the most promising place for an attack, for there the people were of a different race and religion from England, and would welcome and invading force. Already a French expedition had been sent to that country, but it had been scattered by storms, and failed. Better luck might attend a second attempt; but, first, the English fleet must be reckoned with.

France now controlled the fleets of Holland and Spain, in addition to her own; and if these three could be united they might be more than a match for that of England. The danger to Great Britain was very great, but her seamen were equal to the occasion. Before the Spanish and Dutch fleets could be united with that of France, they were met separately, and practically destroyed. The defeat of the Spanish fleet took place near Cape St. Vincent, the southwestern point of Portugal. It was largely due to the efforts of a man who was to become England's greatest naval commander—Horatio Nelson.

These victories of Great Britain renewed her command of the sea, and for some time rendered hopeless any plans for invading her.

Bonaparte, however, secured the consent of the French government to another plan, which would injure England, while it would also enrich France and further Bonaparte's own ambitions. This was the conquest of Egypt, which was in name a province of Turkey. Egypt, in French control, it was hoped, might be made a base for attacking England's power in India. In 1798, Bonaparte set out with a great expedition, and reached Egypt, without meeting Nelson's fleet, which was in the Mediterranean. A single battle, fought near the Great Pyramids, put Egypt almost completely in Napoleon's control.

A few days later, Admiral Nelson found the French fleet at anchor, near the mouth of the river Nile. It was superior in numbers and in guns to the English fleet, but that did not hinder Nelson. He skilfully sent one division of his fleet between the French ships and the shore, saying—

"Where there is room for a French ship to ride at anchor, there is room for an English ship to sail."

By this means, he was able to attack the leading ships of the French line from both sides, and overpower them. The battle lasted until far in the night, the scene being lighted not only by the flashing of the guns, but by the French flag-ship, which took fire and finally exploded. Nelson himself was severely wounded in the head, but when a surgeon ran up to attend to him, out of his turn, he said:

"No, I will take my turn with my brave fellows."

This battle of the Nile was a complete British victory. Bonaparte's army was cut off from return to Europe, and it was not until more than a year later that he himself landed, almost alone, upon the shores of France.

Soon after this, Bonaparte overthrew the government which ruled France, and set up a new one, of which he was the head, with the title First Consul. A little later, he had his term of office as First Consul extended for life; and finally, in 1804, he proclaimed himself Emperor of the French under the name Napoleon I. All of these changes were submitted to the vote of the people, and were approved by large majorities. It seemed that Napoleon was right when he said of the French:

"What they want is glory, and the satisfaction of their vanity. As for liberty, of that they have no idea. The nation must have a head—a head which is rendered illustrious by glory."

Napoleon gave glory to France in fullest measure. In the next few years, he overran the greater part of Europe, and fought battle after battle, nearly always winning brilliant victories. He more than doubled the territory over which France ruled, and both the government of France, and the geography and governments of all Europe, bear the impress of his influence to this day. But, with all his power, and all his genius, he could not conquer the "nation of shopkeepers," as he called the English. In 1802, a peace was made between England and France. It was in this treaty that the English King finally gave up the title "King of France," which had been used by the English sovereigns since Edward III.

Within a little more than a year, the two countries were again at war. Napoleon established a camp at Boulogne, on the English Channel, and gathered together a great fleet of boats, to invade England. But soon he was obliged to break up his camp, and march his armies against other enemies. A few weeks later, all hope of invading England was taken away by the destruction of the last French fleet, at Cape Trafalgar.

British Soldier

The battle of Trafalgar was Nelson's last and greatest victory. The French fleet had slipped to sea, and joined what remained of the Spanish fleet; then the combined fleet had sailed for the West Indies. Nelson followed after it, and when he could not find it in American waters, he rightly guessed that the move was a blind to draw him away from Europe. Hastily he retraced his course, and found the missing fleet in the harbor of Cadiz. By keeping some of his ships out of sight, he tempted the French admiral to come out and give battle. Nelson had twenty-seven ships, and the French thirty three, but Nelson sunk or captured all but thirteen of the enemy's vessels. Nelson himself was killed, by a bullet fired from a French ship, alongside which his flag-ship, the Victory, was lying. The last signal which he gave to his fleet shows the spirit of his life. It was this: "England expects every man to do his duty."

These victories, won by Nelson, led a British poet of that time to sing:

"Britannia needs no bulwarks,

No towers along the steep;

Her march is o'er the mountain waves,

Her home is on the deep.

With thunders from her native oak

She quells the floods below,

As they roar on the shore,

When the stormy winds do blow!

When the battle rages loud and long,

And the stormy winds do blow."

The Prime Minister of Great Britain, during the greater part of this period, was William Pitt, a younger son of the great Earl of Chatham who had saved England during the Seven Years' War. Pitt, the younger, became Prime Minister before the war began, when he was only twenty-four years of age. For a time, his position was very difficult, for he was opposed in the House of commons, not only by the Whigs under Fox, but by the Tories under Lord North. But his good sense and ability brought the people over to his side. After a new election was held, in 1784, a majority of the House of Commons supported his policies. He was not so great an orator as his father, but he was a sound and energetic statesman, and his services were of the highest value.

William Pitt, the Younger

"England has saved herself by her exertions," he said at one time in this war, "and she will save Europe by her example."

Under Pitt's guidance, Great Britain contributed much more than her example. Her money, in large part, paid the armies of Napoleon's enemies, and her fleets interfered to spoil French plans of conquest. He died in 1806, but his death brought no slackening of efforts in the great war.

When Napoleon found that he could not invade England, he tried to conquer her by striking a blow at her commerce. By his "Continental System" he closed all the sea-ports of Europe against English goods, and he punished with war the countries which would not adopt to his system. Up to this time, the peoples  of Europe had sympathized with France, although their governments fought against her. Now, Napoleon's tyranny turned the people against him, and from this time on his efforts began to fail.

The Spanish peninsula was the region where national resistance to Napoleon first broke out on a large scale. The kingdom of Spain had been seized by Napoleon, and his brother Joseph set up as King; and the royal family of Portugal escaped capture, at Napoleon's hands, only through the aid of a British warship, which took them to their South American colony of Brazil. When the Spanish people rose in revolt against French rule, the British government aided them, by sending, for the first time, a British army to fight against Napoleon. England's sea power enabled her to land troops freely in Portugal, and this became their base of operations in the six years' "Peninsular War" which followed (1808-1814).

In this war, the Duke of Wellington, who was the British commander, proved more than a match for Napoleon's generals. It would take too long to tell of the wavering fortune which he encountered, and the battles which he fought. In the end, he was successful, for Napoleon was too busily engaged elsewhere to give this war his personal attention. By 1811, he succeeded in driving the French from Portugal; and he then advanced into Spain. In 1812, the south of Spain was recovered from the French. In 1813-14, the north was freed, and the defeated French were driven headlong across the Pyrenees Mountains. Then Wellington prepared to follow them into France itself.

This was made possible by Napoleon's folly in going to war with Russia, in 1812, and marching upon her capital, Moscow. His army numbered half a million men, drawn from "twenty nations." The Russians wisely refused to fight pitched battles, and retreated as he advanced. Moscow was captured, but next day a fire broke out—probably started by the Russians—which burned nine-tenths of the city, and made it impossible for the French to hold it.

Then began Napoleon's retreat. The Russians followed after, cutting off stragglers. Zero weather came on, and scores of thousands perished—from cold, hunger, wounds, and sickness. Of the mighty host which had set out, only a handful crossed the Russian frontier on the return.

This great disaster to Napoleon encouraged the oppressed states of Germany to revolt against his rule. Throughout the year 1813, the terrific contest was fought. In spite of all his desperate efforts, Napoleon was slowly but surely forced back to the river Rhine, and across it into France itself. Then, in 1814, while Wellington invaded France from the south, the Russians, Austrians, Prussians, and Swedes invaded it from the east and north.

Against such odds, Napoleon could not hope to succeed. After desperate battles, and most brilliant generalship, he was obliged to make peace. He had rejected earlier and more liberal offers, so the allies obliged him to give up his crown and go into exile. He kept the title of "Emperor," and was given the little island of Elba (between Corsica and Italy) to rule over, and was to receive an annual pension. On the whole, they did not treat him badly.

But it was not in Napoleon's nature to be content with a tiny kingdom. Louis XVIII., who had been placed on the French throne, had learned nothing from the misfortunes of his family, and the French people began to long for the return of Napoleon. The allies, too, were quarreling over the division of the territories taken from Napoleon, and he hoped that their union would be broken. So, in March, 1815, Napoleon slipped through the guard ships placed about his island, and soon all Europe was startled to hear that he was again in France.

"I shall reach Paris," Napoleon predicted, "without firing a shot."

The French soldiers who were sent to capture him went over to his side. Louis XVIII. fled from the kingdom, and Napoleon again seized the throne.

This news reunited the allies, and they once more set their armies in motion. Napoleon's policy was always to strike first. He now marched hastily into Belgium, to attack the British, under Wellington, and the Prussians, under Blucher. There he fought the great battle of Waterloo, on June 18, 1815.

Duke of Wellington

Two days before this battle, Blucher had been defeated and separated from Wellington. Without Blucher's troops, it would be impossible for Wellington to hold his position, at Waterloo. How anxiously, then, through that long day, did Wellington scan the horizon for the promised aid of the Prussians! But the roads were soft from recent rains, and the Prussians found it slow work dragging the heavy cannon through the mud. Meanwhile, the battle raged fiercely—here, there, all over the field! In this battle, Wellington earned the name of "the Iron Duke," for he—

"Taught us there

What long enduring hearts could do,

In that world-earthquake, Waterloo!"

At last, six miles away, a dark moving mass appeared. The field glasses showed that they were men—troops! But were they the promised aid from Blucher, or the reinforcements expected by the French?

"They are French; they must be French!" cried Napoleon.

But no! It was the advance guard of the Prussians!

The French fought desperately, but they had now to face two foes. Soon they gave way. Then the defeat became a rout. The new recruits flung aside their guns, and the shameful cry arose, "Let each save himself!"

In vain Napoleon's Old Guard stood firm. "The Guard dies," it was said, "but it does not surrender!"

This defeat of Napoleon caused his final downfall. For the second time, Paris passed into the hands of the allies. Napoleon tried to find a ship in which he could escape to America, but could not. At last, to avoid falling into the hands of the Prussians, he went on board a British man-of-war, and surrendered to its commander.

He was taken to England. Then, by the unanimous resolve of the allies, he was carried to the island of St. Helena, in the South Atlantic Ocean, where he was kept a captive, until his death, in 1821. He had staked everything on making himself master of the whole of Europe, and had failed. He was one of the greatest generals in history, and in his few intervals of peace showed that he could be a great statesman and reformer. But his policy was coldly selfish, and the sufferings of France in his wars failed to move him. His overthrow was a real benefit to all the nations of Europe, and indeed of the world.

In the midst of her war against Napoleon, Great Britain fought her second war against the United States (1812-1815). The struggle between the giants of Europe had led both countries to interfere unjustly with the commerce of neutral nations, and American trade was practically destroyed. In addition, Great Britain forced many American seamen to serve on board her warships, claiming (truly or falsely) that they were British subjects. The United States chose to go to war with Great Britain alone, and American vessels won some notable victories over separate English vessels. The Americans failed, however, to conquer Canada, as was planned; and a British expedition captured the city of Washington and burned many of the government buildings. The battle of New Orleans, which General Andrew Jackson and his sharpshooters won against the British, came after peace had been agreed to, and so was without result. The treaty which ended the war left things just about as they were when it began. Nevertheless, the war accomplished two things for America: it caused Great Britain to respect her late colonies; and it united the States more firmly, and taught them that they were a nation.

In overthrowing the Emperor Napoleon, Great Britain had played the chief part. As was only natural, she profited by the war, through her conquest of the colonial possessions of France and of the countries allied with France—Spain and Holland. Thus she secured the Cape of Good Hope, Malta, Ceylon, Trinidad, and other important parts of the present British Empire.

But these gains were dearly bought. Her public debt increased to four times what it was at the beginning of the war, and has ever since remained a heavy burden. The prices of goods rose enormously, until wheat sold for about four dollars a bushel; but wages rose very little. The war left Great Britain, therefore, with many serious problems to solve. Moreover, fear of the French Revolution had stopped the movements toward democracy and reform, which existed before the war, and had left the rigid Tories in complete control of the government.

The wiping out of these effects of the struggle against the French Revolution was the work of the next twenty years of British history.

Topics for Thought and Search

A Period of Reform (1815-1837)

The sixty years' reign of George III. came to an end in 1820. During the last nine years of his life, he was permanently insane, and the government was carried on by his eldest son, George IV., as regent.

The reign of George IV. in his own right lasted from 1820 to 1830. He loved to be called the "First Gentleman in Europe," but he was far from being a gentleman at heart. Both before and after he became King, he led an evil and dissipated life. His attempt to gain a divorce from his wife, Queen Caroline, whose life was far less blameworthy than his own, made him very unpopular with his subjects. Before he became King he had been a great Whig; but after his father's power had passed into his hands he forgot all his liberal principles, and became an extreme Tory.

He was succeeded by his brother William IV., who ruled from 1830 to 1837. Until late in life there seemed little likelihood that William would succeed to the throne, so he was bred up to a sailor's life. He went to sea, as a midshipman, when he was fourteen years of age, and he showed a great liking for naval service. His bluff sailor-like ways gained him great popularity, both as prince and as King; but he lacked dignity of manner, and showed little ability as a ruler. Like his brother, George IV., he left no heir to the throne, and when he died the crown passed to the daughter of a younger brother. Queen Victoria, whose long and eventful reign will be described later.

William IV

The last years of George III., and the reigns of George IV. and William IV., were filled with questions of reform in the government. Bad times followed the close of the wars with France, and for a number of years taxes and the price of food were high, while great numbers of the people were out of employment. Ignorant people sometimes formed mobs, and broke machines used in manufacturing, which they fancied were the cause of their lack of employment. "Hampden Clubs" and other societies were formed among the people to work for political reforms, and these alarmed the Tories with fears of revolution, like that which had taken place in France.

In 1819 a meeting was called by the reformers in St. Peters Field, at Manchester. Probably fifty thousand persons, or more, gathered there, bearing banners with the words, "Unity and Strength," "Annual Parliaments," "Universal Suffrage," on them. Many of the men had been drilled to march in step; but they were without weapons, except some who carried about sticks.

One of their leaders tells us that his old employer called to him, as they marched through the streets, and said, anxiously, that he "hoped they intended no harm."

"No, no, my dear master," was the answer, "if any wrong or violence takes place, they will be committed by men of a different stamp from these."

The meeting had scarcely opened, however, and the chief speaker begun his address, when the magistrates ordered mounted soldiers to arrest the speaker, and to break up the meeting.

"Forward!" was the command; and as the trumpet sounded, the soldiers dashed into the struggling multitude of unarmed people. In ten minutes the vast crowd was scattered. To accomplish this, five or six persons were killed, and fifty or more were wounded.

This "Peterloo Massacre" caused great indignation among liberal-minded people. It led the government, on the other hand, to pass very severe laws against political meetings, against speaking or printing criticisms of the government, and against drilling private persons. The chief effect of all this was to show the leaders of the Whig party that, unless they joined with these "Radicals," in reforming the government and in taking it out of the hands of the Tories, either liberty would be lost, or there might be a revolution which would upset all social order and government.

The wisest of the Whigs, therefore, took up in Parliament the cause of reform, and soon their efforts began to be crowned with success.

The first great reforms were to repeal the laws which forbade anyone to be a member of Parliament except those who worshiped according to the Church of England. Protestant Dissenters had long been allowed to sit as members of Parliament, in spite of the law, but it was not until 1828 that this was made legal. The next year the laws which kept Catholics out of office were also repealed.

The repealing of the laws against the Catholics was chiefly the work of an Irish Catholic leader named Daniel O'Connell. He was a great public speaker, and with the aid of the Catholic priests he organized the small Irish voters, so that they no longer voted for candidates named by their landlords, but for men favorable to their own cause. The Tory party, the leaders of the Church of England, and perhaps a majority of the English people, were opposed to the Catholic claims, and raised the cry of "No Popery," and "Church and King." George III. had been led to believe that the oath which he had taken as King to "uphold the Church of England" forbade him consenting to laws favorable to the Catholics; and when Pitt had proposed such laws it had brought on one of George's fits of insanity. George IV. now held the same ideas, but people cared less for his opinions.

The question came to a head when O'Connell was himself elected to the House of Commons, in 1829. He was a catholic, and could not take the oaths which were required of all members of that body. But, if he were not admitted to Parliament, all Ireland would burst out into revolt. So, the King's chief ministers—the Duke of Wellington and Sir Robert Peel—used their influence to pass a bill which gave Catholics the same political rights as Protestants.

This was a wise step, but it angered their Tory followers and weakened their party. It made it easier for the Whigs, soon after this, to get control of the government and to pass a yet greater reform measure.

This was the reform of the representation in the House of Commons itself. Many of the members, in that body, represented what were known as "rotten boroughs"—that is, towns which never had much population, or which had so declined that they were no longer populous. Some places which sent representatives were mounds and ditches, without any inhabitants, or were towns which had years before been swallowed up by the sea. Sometimes they were called "pocket boroughs," because the lord of the land practically named the members himself—carried them around "in his pocket," so to speak. On the other hand, many of the great manufacturing towns, which had sprung up as a result of the Industrial Revolution, and no representative in Parliament. Some members of the House of Lords practically appointed as many as eleven members each in the House of Commons, while the great majority of the people, both in the towns and in the country, had no right of voting, even for a single member. Those who did have the right frequently sold their votes to the highest bidder, when they were not forced to vote as their landlords commanded them. It was generally known that seats in the House of Commons could be bought for a certain sum of money.

For a long time, all proposals to reform Parliament were successfully resisted. But when the Duke of Wellington, in 1830, declared, as head of the government, that these arrangements were the very best that could possibly be invented, his statement was too much even for his followers.

"What is the matter?" asked the Duke of a friend who sat by him, as loud murmurs arose in different parts of the House.

"Nothing," was the reply, "except that you have announced your own downfall."

So it proved, for, soon after this, Earl Grey became the head of a Whig ministry, in Wellington's place. The cause of Parliamentary reform was now taken up in earnest, and a Reform Bill was introduced in the House of Commons. It was bitterly opposed, and its fate was long doubtful. In a letter to a friend, the historian Macaulay, who was himself a member of the Commons, gives this description of the passing of the first vote in its favor:

"Everybody was desponding. 'We have lost it! I do not think we are two hundred and fifty; they are three hundred.' This was the talk on our benches. As the count of our number proceeded, the interest was insupportable. 'Two hundred and ninety-one, two hundred and ninety-two—' We were all standing up, and counting with the tellers. At 'three hundred' there was a short cry of joy; at 'three hundred and two,' another. We knew that we could not be severely beaten.

"First, we heard that they were three hundred and three; then that number rose to three hundred and ten; then went down to three hundred and seven. We were all breathless with anxiety, when one of our side, who stood near the door, jumped up on a bench and cried out—

" 'They are only three hundred and one!'

"We set up a shout that you might have heard to Charing Cross, stamping against the floor and clapping our hands. No sooner were the outer doors opened, than another shout answered that within the House. All the passages and stairs were thronged by people who had waited, until four o'clock in the morning, to know the result. I called a cab, and the first thing the driver asked was—

" 'Is the bill carried?'

" 'Yes, by one vote.'

" 'Thank God for it, sir!'

"And away I rode, and so ended a scene which will probably never be equated."

But the battle was not yet over. This House of Commons had to be dismissed, and a new one elected, before the bill finally passed the body. Then the House of Lords rejected it. The House of Commons then passed the bill a second time; and such an agitation broke out among the people that, in the end, the Lords gave way. In June, 1832, the great Reform Bill became law.

By its provisions, many of the small boroughs lost their representatives in Parliament, while the great manufacturing towns gained representation. At the same time the "franchise," or right to vote, was made more liberal, so that small farmers and shopkeepers secured the vote. Later laws, passed in 1867 and in 1884, further reformed the House of Commons, so that it is now practically as representative of the people as our Congress, and the right to vote is almost as general as with us.

The reform of Parliament caused a real revolution in the government, though a peaceful one. For fifty years the Tories had been in almost constant control. Now, for thirty-five years, the government was almost continuously in the hands of the Whigs, and they used the opportunity to pass many needed reforms.

One of these was the abolition of slavery throughout all the British possessions.

Shortly before our Declaration of Independence, the English courts declared that slavery could not exist in Great Britain, and that as soon as a slave set foot on its soil he became free. Then, in 1807, a law was passed which forbade British vessels to take part in the slave trade, and forbade entrance of additional slaves into the British colonies.

A Spinning Factory

This action was largely due to the efforts of two great-hearted English reformers, Thomas Clarkson and William Wilberforce, who gave the greater part of their lives to working, first, against the slave trade, and then against slavery itself. They formed anti-slavery societies, collected evidence, and in speeches and pamphlets aroused the consciences of Englishmen to the terrible wrongs of slavery.

In 1833, their labors were at last completely successful. Parliament passed a law that all slaves throughout the British possessions should be set free on August 1, 1834, and that their masters should receive, from the British government, an amount equal to $100,000,000. In the sixteenth, seventeenth, and eighteenth centuries, English traders and sailors had taken a principal part in carrying African slaves to other countries. It was only right, therefore, that Great Britain should now take the chief part in ridding the world of this curse.

The condition of children who worked in the mines and factories was very bad at this time, and Parliament passed laws in regard to this subject also. Many parents practically sold their children to the owners of factories, who worked them for such long hours and under such bad conditions that they either died or were injured for life. One young man, aged nineteen, testified before a committee of Parliament, in 1832, as follows:

"What time did you begin to work at a mill?"

"When I was six years old."

"What sort of a mill was it?"

"A wooden mill."

"What were the hours of work?"

"We used to start at five, and work till nine at night."

"What time had you for your dinner?"

"Half an hour."

"What time had you for breakfast and drinking?"

"A quarter of an hour at each end of the day."

"How were you kept up to your work, during the latter part of the day?"

"The overlooker used to come with a strap, and give us a rap or two."

"Did they strike the young children as well as the older ones, the girls as well as the boys?"

"Yes."

Children Working in a Mine

"State the effect upon your health of those long hours of labor."

"I was made crooked with so much standing." Here the witness showed his legs, which were very crooked.

"How tall are you?"

"About four feet, nine inches."

"Were the children unhappy? Have you seen them crying at their work?"

"Yes"

"Had you time to go to a day school, or a night school, during this labor? Can you write?"

"No, not at all."

"What effect did working by gaslight have upon your eyes?"

"It nearly made me blind."

As a result of such testimony, Parliament passed a "Factory Act" in 1833, which forbade the working in factories of children under nine years of age. Later acts entirely stopped the employment of women and children in mines, where their condition was even worse than in factories. Gradually the hours of work in the factories were cut down, and better conditions established. At the same time, it was ordered that factory children should spend at least a part of each day in school, in order that they might not grow up entirely uneducated. In this way only could the introduction of the factory system of manufacturing be prevented from becoming more of a curse than a blessing to the great body of the people.

A reform of the criminal law was also begun at this time. The old criminal law was very harsh, and provided the penalty of death for more than two hundred offenses. These included such offenses as injuring Westminster bridge, picking pockets, and unlawfully killing deer, as well as serious crimes. Changes in the law now began, which ended by leaving only murder and treason punishable with death. These reforms not only made the law less barbarous, but also made its penalties more certain. Now that its provisions were more reasonable, judges and juries did not hesitate so much to punish those who committed crimes.

Many other important reforms were carried out. These included, among others, a reform of the system for relieving distress among the poor, which was very much needed; and also a reform of the manner of governing the cities. It would take too long to go into the details of these, and other measures. But it should ever be borne in mind that one of the first and greatest of the results which followed the giving of more power in Parliament to the people was the clearing away of old abuses in the government.

Instead of the disorder and anarchy which the Tories feared would come from the Reform Act, there came a period of active good government, and a time of general prosperity for the whole country.

Topics for Thought and Search

The Early Reign of Queen Victoria

Early on a June morning in 1837, a carriage dashed up to the gates of the palace where the Princess Victoria was living, and the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Lord Chamberlain of England got hastily out. They had driven through the night, from Windsor Castle, the royal residence, twenty-five miles away, and asked to see the Princess at once.

Windsor Castle

"We are come on business of state," said they, "and even Her Highness's sleep must give way to that."

After a few minutes, the Princess came into the room, a shawl thrown hastily about her shoulders, and her hair in disorder.

Then the messengers fell upon their knees, and informed her that, through the death that night of her uncle, William IV., she had become the sovereign Queen of Great Britain and Ireland, and mistress of all the British dominions beyond the seas.

The new Queen was barely eighteen. She had lost her father when she was less than a year old, and had been brought up carefully by her mother, the Duchess of Kent. Long afterwards, she wrote of her early years:

"I was brought up very simply—never had a room to myself till I was nearly grown up. I always slept in my mother's room, till I came to the throne. In the small houses at the bathing places, to which we went in summer, I sat and took my lessons in my governess's bedroom."

Princess Victoria Notified that she has Become Queen

At the news that her uncle was dead, and that she had become Queen, her eyes filled with tears.

The sweetness, kindness, and good sense which she showed charmed all her people. Because of these qualities, and because of her long reign of sixty-four years, she was one of the most important rulers of her time, and one of the greatest sovereigns that England ever had.

Three years after she became Queen, Victoria married her cousin, Prince Albert, who belonged to the family of German princes from which her mother came. They had many children, and their family life was a very happy one. The prince was a good father and a good husband; he was also a wise and a well educated man, and aided the Queen very much in carrying on the government. He died in 1861, and Queen Victoria never got over her grief for him. For many years afterwards, she appeared in public only when it was absolutely necessary.

Throughout her long reign, Queen Victoria loyally played the part of a constitutional sovereign. She chose her ministers, now from the Whigs (or "Liberals," as they began to be called), and now from the Tories (or "Conservatives"), whichever had a majority in the House of Commons. In this way Parliament, especially the House of Commons, came more and more to rule the country; and the old idea of George III., that the personal will of the King should rule, was very largely given up.

The long reign of Queen Victoria saw a constant succession of new inventions, which increased man's mastery over nature.

By Victoria's time, artificial gaslights had taken the place of the old whale-oil lamps, with which formerly the streets of London were dimly lighted. Gaslight was also generally used in shops, and in the better class of houses. It was not until her reign was two-thirds over that electric lighting came into use.

In 1814 George Stephenson, the son of a poor English miner, constructed a locomotive engine, which people called "Puffing Billy," on account of the noise which it made. Little by little the locomotive was improved, until Stephenson's "Rocket" could run at the rate of thirty-five miles an hour. The first railway for passengers was opened in 1829. The year after Victoria became Queen, a railway was opened clear through from London to Liverpool, and it became possible to cover, in ten hours, a distance which had taken sixty hours by the fastest stage coach. The steamboat had already been invented, by Fulton in America (1807), and by Bell in Scotland (1812); and in 1838 vessels under steam power began to cross the Atlantic Ocean. The influence of these inventions, in changing all the conditions of life, was only second in importance to the introduction of machinery in manufacturing.

"Puffing Billy"

Formerly, the person who received a letter paid the postage, which varied with the distance. A letter from London to Scotland could cost more than a shilling (twenty-five cents) and poor people often could not afford to receive letters. In 1839, however, gummed postage stamps were introduced, with which the sender paid the postage; and in 1840 the rate was made one penny (two cents) for letters throughout Great Britain and Ireland. Since then cheap postage has spread all over the world, until in 1908 the rate was made two cents even to America. This cheapening of postage brought people closer together, and also aided the spread of information, through the circulation of cheap newspapers and magazines.

Of even greater importance was the introduction of the electric telegraph, at the beginning of Victoria's reign. An American, Samuel Morse, invented an electric telegraph in 1835; but, before he could patent his invention in Great Britain, two Englishman had worked out an invention of their own and patented it. Within a short time the whole country was covered with telegraph wires, and messages could be flashed in a moment's time from one end of it to another. In 1858, an electric cable was first laid, connecting Great Britain and America; but this soon broke, and it was not until 1866 that it became possible to send messages regularly between the Old World and the New. The telegraphs became the property of the government, in Great Britain, and are managed as a part of the Post Office. When the telephone was introduced, after 1880, this also passed largely into the hands of the government.

When Victoria had been Queen nine years, a great famine came upon Ireland, which caused the loss of thousands of lives, and led several million persons to emigrate from Ireland to the United States.

The famine was due to a failure of the potato crop, which furnished the chief food of the Irish people. After a cold and late spring, it began to rain. In some places, the sun was scarcely seen from the end of May till next spring. Here and there brown spots began to appear on the leaves of the potato plants. They grew black and spread, and soon whole fields were blighted. At night, a field might appear green and flourishing, and the next morning all be blight and decay. The food upon which the people depended to carry them through the winter rotted in the ground. The whole land was soon face to face with starvation.

For some years an "Anti-Corn-Law League" had been working in England to secure the repeal of the "Corn Laws," which laid heavy tariff duties on imported grain. They held great public meetings, they printed pamphlets, and they published bitter rhymes, like this:

"Avenge the plunder'd poor, Oh Lord!

But not with fire, but not with sword,—

Not as at 'Peterloo' they died,

Beneath the hoofs of coward pride.

Avenge our rags, our chains, our sighs,

The famine in our children's eyes!

But not with sword—no, not with fire!

.   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .    .   .   .   .   .

Let them in outraged mercy trust,

And find  that mercy they deny!"

Sir Robert Peel, who was now Prime Minister at the head of the Tory party, believed in free trade in everything except grain. As to grain, he believed that every country must raise its own food, or it could be starved out in war time. But now, the famine in Ireland showed him the necessity of free trade in grain also.

Sir Robert Peel

So, Peel carried through Parliament a measure repealing the Corn Laws (1846). Many of his followers deserted him on this measure, for cheaper grain meant less profits to the landlord class; but the Whigs aided him. This law made England a free-trade country; and it has remained such from that day to this. Soon after this, the Whigs and Protectionist Tories overthrew Peel's government, and he never regained power.

Since the overthrow of Napoleon, in 1815, Great Britain had fought several small wars in Asia and in Africa, but had not been at war with any European power. From 1854 to 1856, however, she fought Russia, in the "Crimean War," so called because it was fought mainly in the Crimea peninsula, in the Black Sea.

The cause of this war was the claims of Russia over Turkey, and the fears of England and France that, if they did not aid Turkey, Russia would become too powerful. The Czar of Russia was in the habit of speaking of Turkey as "the Sick Man" of Europe. By this, he meant that the government of Turkey was so weak that it must soon fall to pieces, and he believed that the great powers should plan beforehand what was to be done when this should happen. The other countries thought this was only a scheme of Russia to get possession of Constantinople, which would give it an outlet from the Black Sea into the Mediterranean. This would be especially bad for England, for it would threaten the security of her possessions in India. So, when Russia claimed the right to interfere in Turkey, to protect the Christians there (who were "Greek Christians," like the Russians), England and France encouraged the Sultan to resist. And when war broke out between Russia and Turkey, they sent their armies and fleets to the Sultan's assistance.

The Russians strongly fortified Sebastopol in the Crimea, and the English and French attacked it. The siege lasted for nearly a year, amid cholera, famine, and the winter weather. The Czar said that "Generals January and February" would be his strongest allies, and so it proved. The British army suffered terribly, and there was a great outcry at home because of mistakes made by the government.

For the first time women nurses were sent out to the army, and an English gentlewoman, named Florence Nightingale, won undying fame by the heroism and self-sacrifice which she showed in caring for the sick and wounded.

The most famous deed of all this war was the charge of the Light Brigade, about which Tennyson wrote one of his best known poems. Through the blunder of some officer, six hundred and seventy-three British horsemen were ordered to charge the whole Russian line.

"Cannon to right of them,

Cannon to left of them,

Cannon in front of them

Volley'd and thunder'd;

Storm'd at with shot and shell,

Boldly they rode and well,

Into the jaws of Death,

Into the mouth of Hell

Rode the six hundred."

More than two-thirds of that heroic band were killed, wounded, or made prisoners. "It is magnificent," said a French general, "but it is not war."

In the end, Sebastopol fell, and Russia was obliged to make peace. Many people thought that the whole war was a mistake, and that all the war accomplished could have been gained by peaceful means.

The year which followed the end of the Crimean War saw a great rebellion against British rule in India. It is known as the Indian "Mutiny," because it was confined almost entirely to the native soldiers, or Sepoys, who made up more than nine-tenths of the British army there. It was largely due to uneasiness among the native peoples at the introduction of railroads, and European ways, and to interference with native religious customs. Its immediate cause was a rumor that some new cartridges which were given the troops were greased with beef-fat and hog-lard. The Hindoos regarded beef-cattle as sacred, and the Mohammedans hated everything which came from the hog; so both Hindoos and Mohammedans joined in the revolt.

It was in May, 1857, that the Sepoys first mutinied. They slew their officers, and proclaimed an aged Prince, Emperor of India. In one place, the officers, warned by telegraph, ordered a review of their troops at daybreak. When the columns were in front of the cannon—behind which stood white gunners with port-fire lighted—the command was suddenly given, "Pile arms!" and the Sepoys dared not disobey. They were disarmed, and the mutiny was prevented from spreading to that province.

Sepoys

Other places were not so fortunate. At Cawnpore, the British were obliged to surrender, after standing siege for some time, and men, women, and children were put to death. At Lucknow, the garrison, together with 450 women and children, held out for three months, amid the greatest hardships. A relieving expedition fought its way to them, but it was not strong enough to bring back the besieged through the hostile country. A second expedition was long in coming. But one day a Scotch girl, in the camp, suddenly startled up from her sick bed, crying:

"The Campbells are coming! Don't you hear the bagpipes?"

At first they thought that her mind was wandering. But she was right. It was  a body of Scotch Highlanders, of the clan of the Campbells, marching to their relief, with the bagpipes playing at the head of the column. This time the force was strong enough to bring the garrison away.

After some further fighting, the rebellion was put down, and the rebels were severely punished. Ever since the Mutiny, a larger proportion of British troops has been kept in India, so that a danger might not again arise. Also, the Mutiny showed the necessity of making a change in the government of India. The old East India Company was dissolved, and the British government itself took over the rule. In many ways, some consideration was shown to the wishes and prejudices of the Indian peoples, and in 1877 the Queen was proclaimed Empress of India. On the whole, British rule had been a great blessing to India; but it is very natural that the educated natives should seek, as they are now doing, to have a larger share in the government of their own land.

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Gladstone and Disraeli

The best known statesman of the reign of Queen Victoria was William E. Gladstone. He was for sixty-two years a member of the House of Commons, and was four times Prime Minister. He was the greatest political speaker of the latter half of that century, and his name is connected with some of the most important laws of that time.

Mr. Gladstone was born at Liverpool, in 1809, the same year that Abraham Lincoln was born. His parents were of Scottish descent, and his father was a successful merchant. When he was eleven years old, he was sent to the great school for boys at Eton, which many noblemen's sons attended. At that time there was much flogging in English schools, and much fighting among the boys; Englishmen defended both as good things, because they said that they made the boys sturdy and self-reliant. From Eton, Gladstone went to Oxford University, where he ranked very high in Greek and Latin, and also in mathematics. In after years he never forgot his interest in learning, and amid his active political life he carried on much reading and study.

Eton College

Gladstone was always very much interested in religion, and for a time he wanted to become a clergyman of the Church of England. Instead, he followed the wishes of his father, and entered political life. He became a member of the House of Commons in 1833, the year after the great Reform Bill was passed. He owed his first seat to the favor of a great nobleman, who controlled one of the "rotten boroughs" which had not yet been reformed.

For many years Gladstone acted with the aristocratic party, and was described as "the rising hope of the stern, unbending Tories." But he was a member of Sir Robert Peel's Cabinet when it repealed the Corn Laws, in 1846; and when the Tory party was split into two, on that question, he followed Peel against the Protectionists. Thirteen years later, he joined the Whig (or Liberal) party, and, after he came to be its leader, he gradually became more and more radical, until finally a number of his followers deserted him and joined the Conservative party. Late in his life Mr. Gladstone summed up the changes in his political principles in these words:

"I was brought up to distrust and dislike liberty; I learned to believe in it. That is the key to all my changes."

When the Civil War broke out in America, in 1861, the upper classes of Great Britain sympathized with the South. The Southern planters were great landlords, like the English nobles and gentry, and had the same aristocratic ideas; moreover, Englishmen admired the dashing courage which the South showed in fighting the richer and more populous North. They disliked the North, because of the tariff which it put on English goods, and because the war prevented England's getting the cotton it needed to run its factories; besides, Englishmen did not believe that the North was sincere in opposing slavery. Gladstone shared these feelings, in part, and in 1862 he said:

"We may have our own opinions about slavery; we may be for or against the South. But there is no doubt that Jefferson Davis and other leaders of the South have made an army;  they are making, it appears, a navy;  and they have made what is more than either, they have made a nation."

Long afterwards Mr. Gladstone admitted that it was a great mistake for him to make such a speech. The Northern States were already very angry with Great Britain for its favor to the South, and this speech made people think that the British government intended to recognize Southern independence. Matters became worse when Great Britain permitted Southern cruisers, like the Alabama, to set out from British ports and destroy the shipping and commerce of the North. At times, there was real danger of war between the United States and England.

In the end it was Mr. Gladstone who removed the last disagreement between the two countries, growing out of this war. In 1871 his government agreed that the "Alabama  claims" should be submitted for decision to arbitrators, chosen chiefly by the rulers of Italy, Switzerland, and Brazil. The arbitrators decided that Great Britain was wrong, and that she should pay to the United States the sum of $15,000,000 for the damages done by the Southern cruisers. Many Englishmen protested against this decision, but it was one of Gladstone's strong points that he never hesitated to confess it when he knew that he was in the wrong, and to do what he could to make matters right.

William Ewart Gladstone

For more than twenty years, Mr. Gladstone's chief opponent in politics was Benjamin Disraeli, whom Queen Victoria made Earl of Beaconsfield. Disraeli was the son of Jewish parents, but was himself a Christian. He was a writer of well-known novels, as well as a statesman. When he first entered Parliament he was a radical in politics, but later became a Tory. He was one of the leaders of those who deserted Peel on the question of the repeal of the Corn Laws, and was very bitter in his attacks on that statesman. He said that Peel had "caught the Whigs bathing, and had walked off with their clothes"—meaning that he had stolen his ideas from the Whigs. Disraeli was a very brilliant speaker, and in many ways was an able statesman; and, since men of ability were scarce on the Tory side after Peel's downfall, it was not long before Disraeli became their most important member. Under his leadership, the Tories became more liberal, and less opposed to needed reforms; he also gave more prominence to foreign and colonial questions than the Whigs.

For a number of years, the Whigs had been trying to pass a new measure of Parliamentary reform, which should take away more of the rotten boroughs, and give the right of voting to more people.

"You cannot fight against the future," said Gladstone to the Tories, who were opposing this step. "Time is on our side."

But the Whig reform measure was defeated, by votes of the Tories and of Whigs who sided with them against their own leaders.

Then the Tories, or Conservatives, came into power, with Mr. Disraeli as their leader in the House of Commons; and they proceeded, in 1867, to pass a measure ever so much more radical than the one proposed by the Liberals. It more than doubled the number of voters, by giving the vote to the workingmen in the towns. Those liberals who had aided the Tories in turning Mr. Gladstone out of office protested in vain against this Conservative bill. Even the Tory leader, in the House of Lords, had his doubts about the measure: "It is a leap in the dark," he said.

But, under Disraeli's urging, the Tories took the leap. One result of this step was that, after a time, the working people became less opposed to the Tories, and that party regained a great deal of power it had lost in 1832.

But the first effect of this Reform Act, in the elections held in 1868, was to give the Liberal party a majority of the House of Commons. For the first time Mr. Gladstone became Prime Minister, at the age of sixty years; and during the five years that he now held that office, he passed reform after reform.

One of the first matters that he dealt with was the Church question in Ireland. Nine-tenths of the people there were Catholics; nevertheless, the people were long taxed to support the Protestant Episcopal established Church. In many parishes there were no worshipers in the fine buildings of the established Church, while the poor tumble-down Catholic chapels, near by, were crowded and overflowing. Against bitter opposition, Gladstone passed a law by which the Protestant Church in Ireland was disestablished—that is, it ceased to be supported by the state, and was put on much the same footing as the Catholic Church there. The measure was very gratifying to the oppressed people in Ireland.

"Thank God," said an Irishman, when the measure became a law, "the bridge is at last broken down that has so long separated the English and Irish peoples."

Ireland still had many injustices to complain of, but one of the oldest of them was now done away with. And again and again, in after years, as will be shown in the next chapter, Mr. Gladstone tried to remove further injustices, and to improve Ireland's sad condition.

In England, also, he carried out many reforms. When the right of voting was given to the workingmen, in 1867, one of the Whigs who had opposed that measure said: "Now we must educate our masters."

Gladstone fully agreed that more provision should be made for educating the people, and in 1870 he passed a law for establishing new elementary schools in places which needed them, and supporting them by local taxes. Other laws have since increased the number and importance of these schools, but England is still far behind the United States in its free public school system.

View of the House of Commons

Mr. Gladstone passed many other laws for doing away with injustices and abuses. One of these was a reform by which officers in the army were no longer obliged to purchase their offices from those who went before them, thus making it easier for a poor man to secure promotion. Another was a law by which voting in elections was made secret, by ballot, instead of being done openly as before; thus poor men could vote for whom they pleased, without fear of their employer, landlord, or anybody. He also opened the Universities of Oxford and Cambridge to Dissenters, Catholics, and Jews, who formerly were prevented, by religious tests, from being graduated there.

These reforms followed one another so rapidly that they quite took the breath away from many people. As a result, Gladstone's government began to lose its hold on the country. Disraeli, the leader of the Conservatives, jokingly described the Liberal ministers, in Parliament, as "a row of extinct volcanoes," and of Mr. Gladstone he said:

"You have now had four years of it. You have despoiled churches. You have examined into everybody's affairs. You have criticized every profession and vexed every trade. No one is certain of his property, and nobody knows what duties he may have to perform tomorrow. I believe that the people of this country have had enough of the policy of confiscation."

And so it seemed, for when the elections were held in 1874 the Liberals were defeated, and Disraeli and the Conservatives came into office.

Gladstone was now sixty-five years old, and he decided to retire from the leadership of his party, while continuing to sit in the House of Commons. As it proved, events were too strong for him. Disraeli and his party showed such favor to the Turkish Empire, where Christians were being greatly abused, that Mr. Gladstone attacked their policy; and when Disraeli (now Earl of Beaconsfield) was forced to resign his position as Prime Minister, Mr. Gladstone was for a second time (1880-1885) called to that office. And, during this term as Prime Minister, he became so much interested in attempting to settle the questions relating to Ireland that he continued to lead the Liberal party even after his second fall from office. So, for twenty years after 1874, he was one of the most important persons in British politics, and was Prime Minister—not merely for a second time—but for a third and a fourth time also. It was in this period especially that he came to be known all the world over as England's "Grand Old Man."

But, as the measures with which he was now concerned dealt mainly with Ireland, it will be well to consider them separately, in another chapter.

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England and Ireland

In order to understand the disturbing questions about Ireland, which filled the latter part of Victoria's reign, we must look at the whole history of Ireland's connection with England.

The inhabitants of Ireland were Celts, like the early Britons, and until the twelfth century were independent of the rulers of their sister island. They became Christians before England did, and in literature and art they reached a high stage of civilization. But in industry and in government they lagged behind, largely because they remained organized by clans and tribes, and were ruled over by a number of petty Kings.

An Irish Cabin

Henry II. was the first King of England to make himself "Lord of Ireland"; but, for long after this time, all that this title meant was the possession of a small district about Dublin, called "the Pale," and a very loose lordship over the Celtic chiefs and Kings who ruled the rest of the island. It was not until the time of the Tudors that the English "Lord of Ireland" became its King, ruling over the whole land, and forcing the English language and English customs upon it.

At the time of the Reformation, the English, after much hesitation, became Protestant, but the Irish remained Catholic. The hatred which was born of religious differences was thus added to that which was felt by a conquered race for the race which had conquered it. To these hatreds were later added those caused by robbing the Irish of much of their lands, and by great economic and political injustice.

When an Irish chieftain rebelled, or was accused of treason, the English government confiscated the land of his whole tribe, regardless of the rights of those who were not concerned in his guilt. The confiscated lands were then given out to English and Scottish colonists, who settled on them; or else they were granted to favorites of the crown, who drew the rents from the lands without living in Ireland. This policy began under Mary Tudor; it was continued under Elizabeth and James I.; and it was completed under Cromwell. Two-thirds of the fertile land of Ireland thus came to be owned by foreigners, who at the same time were usually Protestants.

The great mass of the Irish people became "tenant farmers," under these "absentee" landlords. They lived in miserable hovels, paid high rents, and were liable to be turned out of their farms at a moment's notice. The English statesman, Disraeli, once said that the Irish peasants were "the worst housed, worst fed, and worst clothed in Europe." For this condition of affairs, the rulers of England were chiefly responsible.

In addition to other injustices, the English Parliament passed laws, in the seventeenth century, which crushed Irish industry and commerce. Ireland was excluded from the benefits of the Navigation Acts, which built up England's commerce; and also the Irish were forbidden to send their cattle, sheep, and fresh meats, their butter and cheese to England for fear that they would injure the trade of the English landowners. Ireland, for a time, made great progress in wool-raising—for which her green pastures well fitted her—and also in manufacturing woolen goods. But, in the year 1699, the English Parliament checked these also; for it passed an act forbidding the export of Irish wool and wooden goods to any country except England, and there the import duties were made so heavy as practically to shut them out.

We must add to all this that the Irish Parliament, which sat at Dublin, was made up entirely of Protestants, who were usually of English or Scottish descent. For a long time it had little real power, and was almost completely under the control of the government of England. Also, the Irish Catholics, who made up seven-tenths of the population, had no vote, and (until 1720) were not even permitted to worship according to their own faith.

Is it any wonder, then, that the Irish came to cherish a bitter hatred for England, and that, in spite of all that England has since done to right Ireland's wrongs, that feeling is still strong and active?

The American Revolution gave the Irish their first opportunity for bettering their condition. While Great Britain was busied with her revolted colonies, and at war with France, the Irish raised a strong force and demanded that the Parliament at Dublin should be given full rights to legislate, and that the laws against Irish trade should be repealed. This was granted; and, also, a little later Catholics were given the right to vote.

But Irish manufacturers and trade were too thoroughly crushed to rise again for many years; and the legislative independence which was won as a result of the American Revolution was soon lost as a result of the French Revolution. The landing of French forces in Ireland, and the rising of the Irish rebellion in 1798, taught England the danger of an independent Irish Parliament. So an Act of Union was passed, by which (in 1801), Ireland lost its Parliament, and instead was given representatives in the Parliament of Great Britain, sitting at Westminster.

How Catholics, in 1829, through O'Connell's agitation, gained the right to sit in this Parliament, has already been told. We have also seen how great famine came upon Ireland in 1846, through a failure of the potato crop; and how, in spite of the repeal of the Corn Laws, this led several millions of people to emigrate, most of them coming to the United States. And in telling the story of Mr. Gladstone, we have also seen how he was led, in 1868, to disestablish the Protestant Episcopal Church in Ireland, and thus remove the worst of the religious grievances which still remained.

This, however, was only the beginning of what Mr. Gladstone did, or attempted to do, for Ireland. In 1870, he got Parliament to pass his first Irish Land Act, which was intended to better the condition of the Irish tenants. But the Act did not go far enough, and the landlords were able to rob the tenants of some of the expected benefits.

Then there was organized in Ireland a great Land League, with an Irish member of Parliament—Charles Stewart Parnell—at its head. This body demanded the "three F's"—fixity of tenure, or the right of the tenant to keep his land as long as he paid the rent for it; free sale, or the right to sell his interest in the land to whomever the tenant wanted; and fair rent, which would prevent the landlord from raising the rent whenever the tenant made improvements, or the landlord found somebody who would offer more money. Landlords and tenants who violated these principle were "boycotted," as it was called, from the name of Captain Boycott, the first victim. The Irish people would have nothing to do with a boycotted person, would not buy from him or sell to him, would not work for him or with him, would not even stay in a church which he entered. More violent punishments were used at times, and the just cause of Ireland was stained by the burning of barns and houses, the injuring of cattle, and occasional murders. Great Britain answered such crimes by suspending the right to trial by juries freely selected, and by other harsh acts. Then the Irish members in Parliament, in order to draw attention to Ireland's grievances, began a policy of "obstruction"—that is, opposing anything and everything which came up in Parliament, until Ireland's ill should be remedied.

Charles Stewart Parnell

All this had such effect that, in 1881, Mr. Gladstone was able to pass a second Irish Land Act, which practically granted the "three F's." But the troubles still continued, and even the arrest and sending to jail of Mr. Parnell and other Irish leaders did not help matters.

Finally it was seen that the Irish land question would never be settled until the Irish peasant became the owner of the land which he tilled. Accordingly, a new policy was adopted. In 1885, Parliament passed a law which set aside a sum of money, which should be loaned to the Irish peasants to assist them in buying their lands. By later laws, especially one which was passed in 1903, this sum was very greatly increased. The result is that more than one fourth of the land which formerly was rented now belongs to the occupants, who are replaying to the government, little by little, the money which they borrowed to purchase it. Thus the Irish land question is now in a fair way to be satisfactorily settled.

But, meanwhile, a much more troublesome question had arisen, which still remains unsolved. This is the question of "Home Rule" for Ireland, or the setting up again of a Parliament at Dublin, with full power over Irish affairs. Under the skilful leadership of Mr. Parnell, the Irish Party in Parliament became strong and united. It was seen that something must be done—either grant Home Rule, at least in part, or else pass very severe laws to put down the disorder and disturbance.

A Street in Dublin

Mr. Gladstone believed, as he said, that "it is liberty alone which fits men for liberty." He favored giving Ireland a central council of its own to carry on the government, but to withhold for a time the grant of a Parliament. A majority of his Cabinet, however, opposed this plan because it went too far, and it was not introduced in Parliament.

The next year (1886), Mr. Gladstone declared that he had become converted entirely to the cause of Home Rule. A portion of the Liberal party thereupon deserted him, and formed a Liberal Unionist party which acted with the Conservatives. Mr. Gladstone now tried, with the assistance of the Irish Party and of the Liberals who remained faithful to him, to pass a bill giving Ireland a Parliament of its own. The measure was defeated in the House of Commons, however, and for a time Gladstone ceased to be Prime Minister. When his party was again victorious at the elections, and he became Prime Minister for the fourth time, in 1892, he made a second attempt to pass a Home Rule bill. This time he was successful in the House of Commons, but the bill was defeated in the House of Lords.

Mr. Parnell, meanwhile, had become a party to a divorce scandal, and this divided and greatly weakened the Irish party. His death shortly afterward did not have the effect of healing these divisions. Mr. Gladstone retired from political life in 1894, after sixty-one years of service in Parliament; and in 1898 he died, at the age of eighty-nine. This also weakened the cause of Ireland.

But the demand for Home Rule still continues. The Irish party, which is now once more reunited, declares that no government for Ireland will be satisfactory to them which does not include a Parliament able to make laws for Ireland, and also ministers for Ireland who shall be responsible to their own Parliament. The English liberals now favor a policy of "Home Rule by installments," or giving to Ireland, little by little, the right to manage it's own affairs. Time alone can tell whether the movement will continue until Ireland, like Canada, has a Parliament of its own; or whether, when the land question is fully settled, and further improvements have been made in local government, Ireland, like Scotland, will be proud to send her representatives to the central Parliament for the whole British Empire, and leave to it the right of making laws for Ireland which it now possesses.

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The British Empire Under Edward VII.

On January 22, 1901, the news was flashed all over the world that the long reign of Queen Victoria had come to an end. She had reigned for nearly sixty-four years, and died at the age of eighty-one. She had been a loving wife and mother, and a good Queen. Her reign was glorious, not because of wars and conquests, be because of the progress of good which it brought, and the uplifting of the people.

Queen Victoria, in Old Age

In her last years a cruel was was fought between the British and the "Boers," or inhabitants of the Dutch republics in South Africa. Great Britain was successful in the end, and the Boer republics were annexed to the British Empire; but the British suffered many defeats before this was accomplished, and the gallant fight which the Boers made aroused great sympathy. The Queen was much distressed by this war, and her last words were:

"Oh, that peace may come!"

Queen Victoria was succeeded on the throne by her eldest son, Edward VII., who had long been known as the Prince of Wales. He was sixty years of age, and was well prepared to continue the wise rule of his mother. He had four grown children, and the eldest of these—George Frederick, now the Prince of Wales—in turn has four sons, so that it is not likely that this line of English Kings will die out.

Edward VII

The British Empire, as Edward VII. received it from his mother, is one of the greatest that the world has ever seen. It includes lands all over the globe, and if it is wisely ruled—as it seems likely that it will be—it will continue to be held together, and prove a great source of good to the world.

But the problem is how to unite the widely scattered lands, by giving them a voice in the central government of the Empire.

The greatest of the possessions of Great Britain, and the most important, perhaps, after the mother country itself, is Canada. This was taken from the French in 1763, and settlement in it has since spread to the Pacific Ocean. It is a rich and fertile land, in spite of its cold climate; and its people are mainly of British blood and speech. Its different provinces have their own legislatures; and since 1867 Canada as a whole had had a federal government somewhat like that of the United States. In nearly everything the Canadians govern themselves, though the Governor-General is sent out to them from Great Britain by the home government. In the Boer War the Canadians proved their loyalty by sending soldiers to aid the mother country.

Australia is the second in importance of the British colonies. The coasts of this island-continent were explored by Captain Cook, an officer in the British navy, in 1770; and the first settlement was made there by the British in 1788. Gold was discovered in Australia in 1851, and great fortunes were made by lucky miners; but a more important source of wealth was found in the raising of sheep. Five colonies were established on the mainland, and another in the near-by island of Tasmania, each with its own legislature and governor; and in 1901 all five were united together into a federal government, under the name of the Commonwealth of Australia. This, too, is a self-governing colony, made up of men mainly of British blood and speech; and it, also, proved its loyalty and affection for the mother country by the aid which it sent at the time of the Boer war.

The two great islands of New Zealand, which together are twice as large as all England, are more than a thousand miles distant from Australia, and thus are not included in that commonwealth. They make up a separate self-governing colony, which is very progressive and prosperous.

Cape Colony, in South Africa, was conquered from Holland in 1806, while that country was aiding Napoleon in his wars against Great Britain. Gold, and also diamond mines, were discovered here, and the white settlements have greatly increased, though the natives (negroes) are still twice as numerous as the whites. The conquest of the Boer republics strengthened British rule in South Africa, and the fairness with which the conquered Boers were treated reconciled them to that rule. Here, too, a movement was successful, in 1909, in uniting all the different British colonies into a federal state, called United South Africa. One of the ablest and broadest-minded of the statesmen who brought this about was the Boer leader, General Botha. "I want the King and the British people to realize," he said, "that the trust reposed in us has been worthily taken up, and I hope that they will have cause of pride in the young South African nation."

Egypt, in Northern Africa, is not properly a part of the British Empire, for it has its own ruler (called the Khedive). But since 1881 British soldiers have guarded the country, and British officers have aided the Egyptian rulers. This "British occupation" has been of very great advantage to the country, for taxes have become less, justice has become more certain, order has been kept, and great public works have been built, so that the condition of the people has greatly improved. Especially noteworthy is a series of enormous dams, which pen up the waste waters of the river Nile, while it is in flood, and gradually let them out later, so that the desert lands become rich fields of cotton, sugar-cane and rice. Another great thing which they have done is the building of a railroad southward, which will meet one which is being built northward from Cape Colony. When this is completed it will be possible to go by rail for five thousand miles—through Egyptian desert and tropical jungle, where lions, elephants, and rhinoceroses abound—from Cairo in Egypt to the Cape of Good Hope. It is likely that the British will stay in Egypt for many years, and so that land may almost be counted as one of the countries over which they rule.

Then there is the great Empire of India, won for Great Britain by the East India Company, and now ruled by the British government. This is half as large as the whole of the United States, and has four times as many people as our country. Unlike most other British possessions, India had an old and very highly developed civilization when Europeans first went there. There was no room for new settlements, so the British still continue very few in that land. As a result, India has not been given the right of self-government, as have other lands named. But, even in India, some share in the government is now promised to the people.

Map of British Empire

These are the chief lands which make up the British Empire, outside the mother country herself: Canada; Australia and the neighboring islands of New Zealand; South Africa; and India. Besides these there are many islands, and small possessions on the continents of South America, Africa, and Asia, which cannot be shown on the accompanying map. War and commerce, the explorer's lonely courage, and the colonist's hardy enterprise, have all contributed to its up-building.

"Time, and the ocean, and some fostering star,

In high cabal have made us what we are,

Who stretch one hand to Huron's bearded pines,

And one on Kashmir's snowy shoulder lay,

And round the streaming of whose raiment shines

The iris of the Australasian spray,

For waters have connived at our designs,

And winds have plotted with us—and behold,

Kingdom on kingdom, sway on oversway,

Dominion fold in fold!"

What is it that binds together this vast empire? Is it the power of Great Britain's army and navy?

India and Egypt are partly held by military force, but this is not so of those great lands which are inhabited by men of the same blood and speech as the British themselves. It is affection that keeps them true to their imperial mother, and the knowledge that membership in that Empire makes them all safer and more prosperous. A poet has described Great Britain as a lion, and the self-governing colonies as its full grown cubs, ready to come at the lion's call to its assistance:

"The Lion stands by his shore alone

And sends, to the bounds of Earth and Sea,

First low notes of the thunder to be,

Then East and West, through the vastness grim,

The Whelps of the Lion answer him."

But what does this growth of England, and the spread of its power through the British Empire, mean for the rest of the world? Does it mean war, and conquest, and tyranny, and oppression?

No, it means peace, and good order, and above all the spread of free institutions.

Great Britain has given the world improved machinery, and cheap goods of many sorts. Her merchants and sailors, more than those of any other nation, have helped to knit the whole world together into one society. The food upon our tables, the clothes which we wear, and the furnishings of our houses are brought together from all over the world largely by their enterprise. She has made the English language the most widely spoken tongue in the world, and has given to those who speak it a priceless literature. In the days following the Reformation in religion, England was the chief champion of Protestantism, when it seemed that the Protestant religion was about to perish. In more modern times, Great Britain has been foremost in putting down slavery everywhere, and in movements of bettering the world's conditions.

Most of all, we owe to Great Britain the spread throughout civilized lands of such rights as trial by jury, free speech, and constitutional government. It was the English people who first discovered and established these rights, and it was from England, and English-speaking peoples, that the rest of the world received these priceless gifts.

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