*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 74652 ***


Transcriber’s Notes:

Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_), and text
enclosed by equal signs is in bold (=bold=).

The whole number part of a mixed fraction is separated from the
fractional part with -, for example, 365-1/4.

Additional Transcriber’s Notes are at the end.

       *       *       *       *       *

THE WORLD’S LEADERS

A NEW SERIES OF BIOGRAPHIES

Edited by W. P. TRENT

Each, with portraits. Large 12mo. $1.75 net.

H. W. BOYNTON’S THE WORLD’S LEADING POETS.--Homer, Virgil, Dante,
Shakespeare, Milton, Goethe.

G. B. ROSE’S THE WORLD’S LEADING PAINTERS.--Leonardo da Vinci, Raphael,
Titian, Rubens, Velasquez, Rembrandt.

W. L. BEVAN’S THE WORLD’S LEADING CONQUERORS.--Alexander, Cæsar,
Charles the Great, The Ottoman Conquerors of Europe, Cortes and
Pizarro, Napoleon.

_Other Volumes in Preparation._

HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY

34 West 33d Street NEW YORK

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       *       *       *       *       *

  The World’s Leaders
  Edited by W. P. TRENT




THE WORLD’S LEADING CONQUERORS


  ALEXANDER THE GREAT, CÆSAR, CHARLES
  THE GREAT, THE OTTOMAN SULTANS,
  THE SPANISH CONQUISTADORS, NAPOLEON

  BY
  W. L. BEVAN

  Doctor of Political Science, Munich; Sometime Fellow of Columbia
  University; Professor of History, University of the South

  WITH PORTRAITS

  [Illustration]

  NEW YORK
  HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY
  1913

       *       *       *       *       *

  COPYRIGHT, 1913,
  BY
  HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY

  _Published March, 1913_

  THE QUINN & BODEN CO. PRESS
  RAHWAY, N. J.




PREFACE


The purpose of this volume is to present, in harmony with the popular
character of the series of which it is a part, brief sketches of
some of the most familiarly named men and well-known incidents in
the history of Western Civilization. The plan upon which the work is
constructed assumes that the broad highway of historical narrative
must be followed, however attractive may be the deviations from it
that offer themselves at almost every page. The story told here has
been told often before and very frequently the telling of it has come
from master hands of literature. It is no easy task to reproduce, in
a condensed form, material so often handled under much more generous
limitations of space than are possible in this work. An attempt
has been made, however, to escape from the bald tabular method of
recording historical happenings that is almost certain to make a
continuous reading of text-book history an impossibility. This must
be the apology for many omissions; not only had the temptation to
generalize to be resisted in favor of what might be called a process
of arbitrary selection but many things are passed over in order to
give appropriate emphasis in treating the matters which do actually
appear in a narrative. If the volume had aimed at comprehensiveness,
many more conquests would necessarily have been described and the list
of characters and leaders in large numbers of military campaigns could
of course be almost indefinitely enlarged. One can say in any case
that though such additions will naturally suggest themselves, there
is less doubt as to the claim of the leaders and events selected to
appear with the prominence here assigned to them. If there has been a
guiding principle in the selection, it may be found in the deliberate
choice made of widely different periods of history. What may be called
the group conquest is best illustrated in the case of the Ottoman
Sultans and the Spanish Conquistadors, whereas the personal factor of
the conqueror comes intensively forward in the chapters describing
Alexander, Cæsar, and Napoleon. Although the military aspect of the
history of conquest has not been neglected, the other less visible
elements that ushered in great changes in history have not been
omitted. In the preparation of the volume some attempt has been made
to incorporate methods, points of view, and material that might not
be accessible to those not concerned with the range of literature
to which the ordinary student of history must appeal. It is only
fair, therefore, to express my obligations to the following works.
In the chapters dealing with ancient history, Beloch’s “Griechische
Geschichte,” Delbrück’s “Kriegs Geschichte,” Kaerst’s “Geschichte
des Hellenismus” and Heitland’s “History of the Roman Republic” have
been largely used. In the chapter on Charles the Great, apart from
Hodgkin’s well-known volumes “Italy and Her Invaders,” I have drawn
upon Hartmann’s “Geschichte Italiens,” Ranke’s “Welt Geschichte,”
Hauck’s “Kirchen Geschichte” and Lavisse’s “Histoire de France.” For
the Ottoman conquest Professor Jorga’s two recently published volumes,
“Geschichte des Osmanischen Reiches,” have been found especially useful
because the author is thoroughly acquainted with the authorities both
Slavonic and Turkish not previously accessible to Occidental scholars.
In the chapter on the Spanish Conquest use has been made of Payne’s
“History of the New World,” MacNutt’s “Life of Las Casas,” and in the
narrative portion Garcia’s “Character de la Conquista Española” has
been found especially valuable. In the life of Napoleon, which offers
the most serious difficulties in applying any accepted method of
condensation, the well-known volumes of Fournier and portions of the
“Histoire Générale” of Lavisse and Rambaud have been followed. Much
help has been received from Professor W. P. Trent, the editor of the
series; in the arduous task of revision, I wish to express my special
obligations for time and work ungrudgingly given by my colleague, the
Rev. S. L. Tyson of the University of the South, and I cannot pass over
aid of the same kind received from Mr. Karl Schmidt of the New York
_Churchman_.

W. L. B.

SEWANEE, TENN., _January, 1913_.




CONTENTS


  ALEXANDER THE GREAT                              PAGE

      I INTRODUCTORY                                  3

     II THE CONQUEST OF GREECE                        4

    III THE CONQUEST OF PERSIA                       17

     IV THE INVASION OF INDIA                        34

      V ALEXANDER’S EMPIRE                           48

  CÆSAR

      I CÆSAR’S BEGINNINGS                           65

     II ALLIANCE WITH POMPEIUS AND CRASSUS           75

    III THE CONQUEST OF GAUL                         84

     IV THE BREAK WITH POMPEIUS AND THE SENATE      102

      V CÆSAR SUPREME                               119

  CHARLES THE GREAT

      I INTRODUCTORY                                134

     II CONSOLIDATION OF RULE                       140

    III THE CONQUEST OF THE SAXONS                  144

     IV OTHER MILITARY ACHIEVEMENTS                 150

      V THE RE-ESTABLISHMENT OF THE WESTERN EMPIRE  158

     VI CLOSING YEARS                               166

    VII THE CONSTITUTION OF THE EMPIRE              172

   VIII CAROLINGIAN CULTURE                         180

     IX ECONOMIC CONDITIONS                         189

      X THE CHURCH                                  198

     XI THE EMPIRE WITHOUT AND WITHIN               203

  THE OTTOMANS

      I OSMAN                                       213

     II MURAD I                                     219

    III BAJESID                                     235

     IV MURAD II                                    244

      V MOHAMMED II                                 253

     VI SELIM AND SOULIMAN                          272

    VII THE DECLINE OF THE OTTOMANS                 280

  SPANISH CONQUERORS

      I THE SPANIARD AND THE NEW WORLD              293

     II THE CAREER OF CORTEZ                        322

    III THE INCAS                                   350

     IV PIZARRO                                     357

  NAPOLEON

      I EARLY YEARS                                 371

     II ITALY AND EGYPT                             379

    III THE FALL OF THE DIRECTORY                   388

     IV THE FIRST CONSUL                            393

      V THE INAUGURATION OF THE EMPIRE              407

     VI AT THE ZENITH OF POWER                      418

    VII THE BEGINNING OF THE END                    426

   VIII DEFEAT AND EXILE                            433

     IX THE NAPOLEONIC RÉGIME                       448

  INDEX                                             465




PORTRAITS


  CHARLES THE GREAT   _Frontispiece_

  ALEXANDER THE GREAT             3

  CÆSAR                          65

  MOHAMMED II                   253

  SULEYMAN                      276

  CORTEZ                        322

  PIZARRO                       357

  NAPOLEON                      371

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THE WORLD’S LEADING CONQUERORS

       *       *       *       *       *

ALEXANDER THE GREAT




I INTRODUCTORY


Even in the critical time of the Persian invasion, the Greek peoples
did not act together. The experiences of political individualism were
too strong to be overcome, and the rooted tradition of local autonomy
successfully resisted all attempts at larger plans of unity. It is not
surprising that at a time when Greek thinkers regarded the development
of the city-state as the highest field for human endeavor, Greek
statesmen should have seen in the expansion of their native communities
only a loose federation of subject cities to be exploited financially
or for the purpose of adding increased military and naval strength, and
not to be subjected to any formal centralized control.

[Illustration: ALEXANDER]

As time went on the old solidarity of the Greek city-state was sapped
in the fight of social classes and political parties. Not only were
Athens, Sparta, and Thebes frequently at war with one another but in
each one of these states there were at work factions dominated by
revolutionary aims. Nothing was regarded as fixed except that the
community must be self-sufficing, it mattered little in what way. It
seemed as if the troubled relations of Greek political life might go on
indefinitely after the Persian invasion had been repelled.

No Greek statesman for a hundred and fifty years, say roughly from 500
B.C. to 350 B.C., the most brilliant period of Greek history, regarded
the kingdom of Macedon as anything but a negligible quantity. Macedon
itself was a land that lay on the boundaries of the Hellenic world.
Its people were held to be half Hellenic and half barbarian. Even
to-day scholars are not at one on the question whether the Macedonian
dialect can be reckoned as properly belonging to Greek speech. But
it was this alien power that ended in bringing Greece to a kind of
unity, a unity based on the force of arms. The most remarkable feature
of this achievement lies in the fact that it was accomplished by one
man, Philip of Macedon, who began his victorious career in 359 B.C. by
repressing internal disturbances at home and by dealing effectively
with his warlike neighbors, the Illyrians and the Thracians. The
divisions in Greece gave him the opportunity of intervention there.
He posed as the friend of the oligarchic party in various Greek
communities, and made it his aim to oppose by diplomacy and by war the
most important center of Greek democracy, Athens. The final struggle
between the free states and the Macedonian monarchy took place at the
battle of Chæronea, August, 338 B.C. Philip won a decisive victory,
because he had spent years in training a professional army that proved
irresistible when it faced the best citizen soldiers of Athens,
Thebes, and other smaller towns which, persuaded by the eloquence of
Demosthenes, stood side by side in the defense of liberty. Philip
survived his victory only a short time, dying in 336 B.C. as the master
of Greece and leaving to his son Alexander the heritage of his unique
achievements.




II THE CONQUEST OF GREECE


Alexander’s succession to the throne of Macedon seemed secured by his
father Philip’s sincere personal affection for him. His confidence in
Alexander’s ability, even in his son’s early youth, was manifested
in the assignment to him of the most responsible positions under his
father’s directions. Philip saw to it that his son should be carefully
educated by placing him under the charge of Aristotle. Good reports
must have come of his precocity, because Philip, while he was occupied
in the siege of Byzantium, handed over to Alexander, then only sixteen
years old, the administration of Macedon. Two years later, at the
battle of Chæronea, already mentioned as marking the downfall of Greek
freedom, the youth was placed at the head of the division of the army
which took the offensive at a critical part of the engagement, and
it was through this important command that the questionable honor of
striking the decisive blow in the defeat of the allied forces of free
Greece was ungrudgingly conceded to him.

Philip, unattractive as his character was in so many ways, stained
as he was by savage passions and duplicity, at least performed
conscientiously and effectively a father’s part in preparing his son
for the high position he was to take in the future. But the domestic
situation of the Macedonian royal family was very far from being
modeled on that described in the Odyssey as befitting the heroes and
the leaders of men. Philip was lawless, and his numerous amours brought
him both difficulty and notoriety, for in his irregular relations he
did not scruple to disregard the customary conventions of Greek social
life. On his return from his campaign for the subjugation of Greece,
he became enamored of Cleopatra, a girl belonging to a distinguished
Macedonian family, whose uncle, Attalus, had a high place in the
government. Cleopatra’s position made it impossible for the King to
offer her the place of a royal mistress; accordingly he made her a
legitimate wife. Olympias and her son Alexander left Macedon, the queen
returning to her home in Epirus, and the crown prince withdrawing to
the traditional enemies of the Macedonians, the Illyrians.

Philip, alarmed at the possibility of political combinations dangerous
to his throne, came to an agreement with Alexander by which the latter
was to return to his father’s court at Pella, and Olympias’ brother,
the prince of Epirus, was induced to give up his hostility against
his brother-in-law by a promise that he should have in marriage
Philip’s daughter, another Cleopatra. This alliance took place with
great ceremony in the summer of 336, in the ancient royal town of
Ægæ. Immediately after Philip prepared to set out to war with Persia.
During the marriage festivities, however, he was assassinated by one
of the members of his bodyguard, Pausanias, who in the confusion that
followed almost succeeded in making his escape. Personal motives were
assigned as grounds for this murder. Pausanias, it appears, had been
deeply insulted by Attalus, the uncle of Philip’s young wife Cleopatra,
and failing to get redress from the King, had so revenged on him his
injured honor. It has been asked why, if this were the case, he did not
strike at Attalus rather than Philip. The probability is that Philip’s
murder was inspired by a woman’s indignation.

It was suspected immediately after the event that it was a case of
“cherchez la femme,” and all indications pointed to the outraged
Olympias as the author of the murder. Alexander himself was thought
to have been concerned in his father’s death, for his own rights of
succession were endangered by the influence of Cleopatra over Philip,
an influence no longer merely sentimental, since she had recently given
birth to a son. For this infant she would naturally strive to secure
the Macedonian crown, and Alexander would be left to play the uncertain
rôle of Pretender.

Whatever happened at Ægæ, the fruits of the crime fell into Alexander’s
hands. He had been officially proclaimed his father’s heir. Of Philip’s
sons he was the only one who had been tested on the battlefield, and
he was also the one who had already shown capacity for leading the
state in such crises as were bound to result from his father’s murder.
Philip’s old companions in arms did not hesitate for a moment as to
the proper choice of a ruler. Alexander was immediately recognized as
king, and in the selection special weight was attached to the fact that
his cause was urged by Antipater, one of Philip’s closest friends and
supporters.

In this way the young prince’s road to the succession was made easy;
there were no disturbances, and care was also taken that there should
be no competitors for the crown in the future, for the young son of
Cleopatra was killed. But these grim measures to establish domestic
peace did not stop here. There was another line of Macedonian princes,
descended from the dethroned family of Lynkestes; there were two
members of this house who might, by making awkward claims at unsuitable
times, give much trouble. These two, Heromenes and Arrhabæos, were
both executed, on the ground that they had acted as accomplices
with Pausanias in the conspiracy against Philip. They had a brother
Alexander, whose life was spared only because he was a son-in-law of
Antipater and had hailed Alexander as the new king immediately after
the murder.

By these deeds of violence, Alexander became the acknowledged master
of Macedon, but the prospects outside his own country were anything
but favorable. In Asia, Attalus was at the head of the Greek cities.
As the uncle of Cleopatra he would naturally be a most bitter enemy
of Alexander. The uncertain future in Macedon was not lost on those
Greeks whose liberties Philip had so recently destroyed, and whose
acquiescence in the rule of Macedon was due only to their fear of
the conqueror. Now they were ready to throw off the yoke, needing
no excuse, but only an opportunity of rising, which the advent to
the throne of an untried youth made most hopeful. A revolt broke
out in Ambrakia and the Macedonian governor was driven out. Thebes
was preparing for a similar outbreak, and there were plain signs of
restlessness in Ætolia and in the Peloponnesus.

Athens was the city to which all the opponents of Macedonian rule
looked for sympathy and support. The peace party there, who had gained
adherents among the Athenians because of the moderation shown by
Philip after his decisive victory at Chæronea, now lost ground because
patriotic hopes sprung anew to life at the unexpected death of the man
who had shattered the traditional system of Greek city autonomy.

Every Greek regarded Macedon as an alien and semibarbarous power, and
one can sympathize with their view. Demosthenes was the leader of the
patriotic party in Athens, and all attempts to undermine his popularity
only put the partisans of Macedonia in a worse light in the eyes of
the Athenians. Whenever he was judicially attacked he came out of
the trial in triumph. Besides, the personal ascendancy of Demosthenes
protected the minor politicians who joined him as opponents of the
friends of the Macedonian monarch. Hyperides, who was responsible for a
decree calling every Athenian freeman, slave, and ally under arms for
the defense of the city against Philip after the defeat of the Greeks,
was brought to trial for his action and, despite the eloquence of the
pro-Macedonian orator, Aristogeiton, was acquitted.

The current of popular emotion was even more plainly revealed when
the time came to deliver the oration, at the Attic feast of the
dead, to commemorate the citizens fallen at the battle of Chæronea.
The honor fell to Demosthenes, the one man whose implacable hatred
to the Macedonian dynasty and all its works was known to everyone.
Attempts were made in Athens to reform the terms of military service
by arranging that all citizens should be called out to defend
their country, and at the same time money was spent in putting the
fortifications of the city in a state to resist an army composed of
skilled troops and provided with the siege artillery of the time.

But care had been taken not to invite attack while Athens was yet
unprepared. At the marriage feast of Ægæ appeared an Athenian
deputation bringing a golden wreath to Philip and a copy of a decree,
passed formally by the city, by which it undertook to surrender anyone
in its jurisdiction who should dare to plot against the king. When
the news of the assassination reached Athens, Demosthenes appeared
in the council in festal garb, and solemnly thanked the gods for the
deliverance done at Ægæ. He considered that Athens had nothing to fear
from the silly youth who now was ruling over Macedon.

But Alexander showed that the great orator had not taken his
enemy’s measure. By the rapidity of his actions, he checked all
attempts to revolt. Suddenly appearing at the head of his army
in Thessaly, he received from the Thessalian allied cities the
position of commander-in-chief, as his father had done before him,
and moving rapidly south, he reached Thermopylæ, where he summoned
the Amphiktyons, and meeting no opposition, was declared by them
guardian of the temple at Delphi. Marching farther south to Thebes,
he prevented, by his presence with an overwhelming force, any
anti-Macedonian movement; and when the Athenians sent a delegation to
greet him, he was tactful enough not to ask for further guaranties of
good behavior on the part of the city they represented.

The Hellenic league, which included all the Greek states south of
Thermopylæ and all the islands which had once owned the supremacy
of Athens, met again at Corinth and renewed with Alexander the same
agreement that had previously been made with his father, a treaty of
offensive and defensive alliance, and the chief command by land and
sea was assigned to the new king, as his father’s successor. After
this triumphal and peaceful progress, Alexander returned home, where
his barbarian neighbors were giving trouble by revolts against his
authority.

In order to bring himself in contact with the Greek opposition to
Alexander, Attalus, one of the two commanders of the Macedonian army in
Asia, had entered into relations with Demosthenes, only a short time
after Alexander’s succession. As Cleopatra’s uncle he took a leading
part in engineering a conspiracy intended to supplant Alexander by
Amyntas, the young son of Perdikkas, the elder brother of Philip, who
by the traditional usage of the Macedonian monarchy was entitled to
succeed Philip. The success of Alexander in Greece convinced Attalus of
the futility of his schemes, and he therefore tried to make advances
to the young ruler. But Alexander was not to be placated, and, as a
deviser of conspiracies in his own interest, he showed that he had
nothing to learn from the practised hands of the Macedonian nobles.

It would have been extremely unwise for Alexander to have shown himself
openly an enemy of Attalus, who enjoyed much popularity in the army.
Accordingly he made a show of friendship by graciously accepting the
advances of Attalus, and at the same time he despatched an associate,
Hekatæus, on whom he could rely, with directions to assassinate
him. The treacherous deed was made the easier, because Parmenio,
joint-commander with Attalus in Asia Minor, facilitated the plans of
the assassination, despite the fact that Attalus was married to his
daughter. The tribal interests of a half-barbarous people had full sway
among the Macedonians, so Parmenio, who had throughout his life been
conscientiously loyal to the Macedonian monarchy, did not scruple to
sacrifice his daughter’s husband, when it appeared that his son-in-law
was plotting to supplant the regularly accepted monarch of his people.

Alexander’s difficulties were being quickly dissolved by crime and
bloodshed. The Macedonians had none of the political experiences common
to the free Greek communities, and assassination was regarded both as
an ordinary expedient for removing opponents, and as the logical method
of rounding off a policy that was complicated. With Attalus removed,
Alexander could proceed, without further hesitation, to strengthen his
position at home. Amyntas, the young pretender, was executed, and with
him all of the relatives of Attalus and Cleopatra. In this Borgia-like
program of eliminating possible claimants to the throne, only the
stepbrother of Alexander, a half-witted lad, Amidæus, was spared.
Later Alexander’s mother, Olympias, forced her rival, the queen-widow
Cleopatra, to commit suicide.

With this orgy of crime, the reign of Alexander was ushered in, and one
reads with astonishment to-day the thin and specious apologies which
would excuse the young ruler, the real instigator of these atrocities.
As a matter of fact he early acquired the habit of assassination;
unfortunately he never unlearned it. Whatever may be argued in behalf
of his people, who were uncivilized, nothing can extenuate this early
exercise in crime of the pupil of Aristotle. When we survey his record
of one year we perceive that hatred of his deeds must have been the
test of patriotism and good citizenship among the Greek communities,
who might well see in him the typical tyrant of their political
theories.

Alexander’s violent preparations for a peaceful reign were successful.
During his lifetime the tranquillity of Macedonia was not disturbed.
Greece had been brought by the display of military supremacy to a
position of servitude; all that needed to be done before he took up his
father’s program for the invasion of Asia, was to bring the western
tribes on his northern frontier to reason, and to force home upon them
the realization of the power of Macedon.

In the spring of 335, Alexander left Amphipolis, and by a rapid march
of ten days reached Mount Hæmus in the thick of a population which
had never recognized the supremacy of Macedon. They tried to defend
themselves in their mountain passes, but Alexander soon forced his way
through, and on the top of the highest mountain, celebrated his victory
by setting up a thank offering to Dionysus. He then gave his attention
to various mountain tribes with whom his father had had trouble, who
had never before been subjugated, but who now met a decisive defeat
at his hands. An island on the Danube, where the tribesmen had placed
for security their wives and children and property, proved, however,
impregnable. The young king showed himself from the first a master of
strategy, for although he could not capture the island, he executed
rapid movements along the river, beating the Getæ who were defending
the passages, and when the Triballi had come to terms, he marched up
the Danube, and then, crossing the eastern passes of the Hæmus range,
returned to Pæonia.

Alexander’s absence in the north in this untiring campaign against
barbarian tribes, whose homes and habits were hardly known to the
civilized states of Greece, was taken advantage of by his enemies.
While he was fighting on the Danube, the King of Illyria, Kleitos,
whose people had given trouble to Philip and whose father had fallen
in battle with the Macedonians, rose in revolt. Several tribes
farther north on the Adriatic coast joined with the Illyrians in this
anti-Macedonian movement. Without a moment’s hesitation, Alexander
turned to deal with his new enemies, and in order to do effective work,
penetrated far into the mountainous region of Illyria. The Macedonian
army soon found itself in a hazardous position, surrounded on all
sides by hostile tribes. By skilful strategy, Alexander withdrew his
troops from the danger that threatened them, while they were besieging
Pelion in the face of superior numbers, and when he found that the
Illyrians were following him, he quickly turned on them, administered a
decisive blow, and forced Kleitos to seek a refuge in the territory of
the Taulantines, one of the tribes which had been co-operating with the
Illyrians in their resistance to his army.

In the meantime, the presence of a Macedonian force in Asia Minor had
awakened the Persians to the danger confronting them of an invasion
from Greece. Its full meaning was hardly appreciated, and the new
situation was interpreted as only another example of the type of attack
so frequently made by the Greek communities ever since the time when
the Persian invasion of Greece had been successfully blocked. It had
always been found possible to avoid a serious attack from Greece on
the Persian Empire by playing off one Greek state against another.
This well-tried expedient was now used again. Letters were sent from
the King of Persia to the states of Greece urging them to rise against
Macedon, and offering large sums of money to subsidize the revolt.
Sparta alone responded to the invitation; Athens and the other states,
which had just renewed a formal alliance with Macedon, seemed to
realize the hopelessness of an anti-Macedonian movement, and refused to
accept the offer of Persian money. All that the representatives of the
great king could accomplish in this direction was to leave in the hands
of Demosthenes the sum of three hundred talents, with the understanding
that he could use his own discretion in employing it to the best
advantage in the interests of Persia.

The action of the great Athenian orator in accepting the Persian gold
has been severely criticised and warmly defended. It must be remembered
that to him Alexander appeared only as the destroyer of Greek liberty
and not as the protagonist of Greek culture, a position which can be
understood only as the result of his conquests in the East. There was
no reason why an Athenian patriot should have been willing to destroy
the Persian Empire at the cost of the enslavement of his own city.

The perils and difficulties of the Illyrian campaign were magnified by
the rumors which reached the Greek cities. It was even reported that
Alexander had been slain and his army destroyed. This report was soon
followed by an uprising in Thebes against the Macedonians. The leaders
of the Macedonian faction were murdered and the Macedonian garrison
in the citadel closely besieged. The democratic constitution was
then restored and Theban officials were elected according to the old
constitutional forms. At this juncture, Demosthenes used some of the
Persian treasure to purchase arms, which he sent to Thebes to aid its
citizens in their contest for the restoration of their independence.

While the Thebans were most active, the rest of Greece was not slow in
showing its antipathy to Macedonian control. Athens prepared itself to
do battle for Greek autonomy; the isthmus of Corinth was occupied by
an army raised from among the Arcadian cities, with Mantineia at their
head. And the people of Elis and Ætolia showed that they would be ready
to aid the Thebans.

But before any common plan of resistance could be prepared, Alexander
and his army had passed the frontiers of Bœotia after a remarkably
rapid forced march, undertaken as soon as the news of the defection of
the Thebans had reached him in Illyria. It took him but fourteen days
in all to cover the distance from the scene of operations in Illyria to
the gates of Thebes. He was willing to come to terms with the Thebans,
offering them easy conditions provided they would admit his troops into
the city; but the mass of the inhabitants preferred to cast in their
lot with those who were in favor of resistance.

The exiled citizens of Thebes knew they would receive short shrift
at the hands of the son of the man who had driven them from their
native city. The chances of successful resistance were overestimated,
but Thebes had formerly led a forlorn hope in its contest with the
Spartans; and, as the unexpected had happened before, the Thebans,
who were preparing to withstand the Macedonians can hardly be blamed
for recalling the glorious memories of the battle of Leuktra. But they
were now dealing with a new, vigorous army, not with a Spartan force
spoiled by routine. As no help could be looked for from the outside,
the situation was altogether different. The result proved that the
Thebans of Alexander’s day had inherited indeed the valor, but not the
intelligence, of the generation of Epaminondas and Pelopidas.

The Macedonian garrison still held out in the Kadmeia, the citadel
which lay in the southern part of the city, near the gate of Elektra,
through which passed the road to Athens. Its walls were an integral
part of the fortifications of the city. The object of the Thebans
was therefore to cut off all communication from the Kadmeia by
building about it inclosing lines. This operation Alexander aimed to
prevent, and with Perdikkas at the head of a contingent of Macedonian
mountaineers, he succeeded in breaking through the Theban line of
defense, and finally forced his adversaries back to the walls of the
city. They were closely pursued in this retreat, and, as they entered
the gate in disorder, the Macedonians were able to force their way
into the city at the same time. Another division of the Macedonians
found little difficulty in entering the Kadmeia, and from this point
of vantage they quickly descended into the city. The Thebans made an
attempt to rally in the market place, but the rout was soon general.
After the city was overrun by the Macedonians and their allies, it
was noted that the people of the smaller Bœotian towns signalized
themselves by their acts of cruelty done on the now defenseless
Thebans, from whose tyranny they had suffered in the past. Six thousand
men, it is said, perished in the taking of Thebes, while the Macedonian
loss did not exceed 500. (September, 335 B.C.)

Alexander called together his allies to settle the fate of the
conquered. The decision was a horrible example of rancorous hatred, for
he allowed the smaller cities of Bœotia, smarting, as we have seen,
under the sense of long grievances, to work their will on their once
powerful neighbor. The town was to be razed to the ground, only the
house of Pindar being spared. The sole part of the fortifications of
the town to be retained was the Kadmeia, which remained as a military
post with its Macedonian garrison. The Theban territory was to be
divided among the allies, and all the captive Thebans, men, women, and
children, with but a few exceptions, were to be sold as slaves. Those
Thebans who escaped from the city were to be outlawed, and no Greek
city would be permitted to receive them. The only positive items in
this ruthless decree were the provisions for restoring Orchemenos and
Platæa, places which Thebes had once treated with the severity now
meted out to her.

Such a catastrophe, as the result of a defeat or a siege, had never
before been witnessed in Greece, and the impression produced was
one of unmitigated terror. It was not simply the misfortunes of the
existing Theban community, or the material loss from the annihilation
of property. Thebes had the closest associations with the heroic age of
Greece, its name was interwoven with the stories of gods and heroes.
Kadmus had founded it; within its limits Dionysus and Herakles had
been born. The city which had shattered the power of Sparta was left
desolate, and the plow passed over the ground where it had once stood.
It seemed according to a contemporary as if Zeus had torn the moon from
the heavens.

The impression made throughout Greece by this barbarous deed was
universal; no one dared to think of resistance to Alexander. There was
a general desire among the various cities to place themselves in a
favorable position with the conqueror. The Arcadians condemned to death
those who had advised that aid should be given to the Thebans; in other
places the partisans of Macedonia were received back from exile, and
haste was made to acquaint Alexander of the general desire to meet his
wishes.

The Athenians were celebrating their most solemn religious festival,
the Eleusinian Mysteries, when the taking of Thebes was announced.
There was widespread consternation, because it was assumed that the
next move of Alexander would be made against Athens in order to punish
its citizens for their anti-Macedonian sentiments. The celebration of
the festival was abandoned; the inhabitants of the open country took
refuge within the city walls, in anticipation of the ravaging of their
lands, and the fortifications surrounding the city were fully prepared
for defense. In spite of the plain dangers involved in showing sympathy
for the defeated Thebans, fugitives from that city were received with
an open-handed hospitality, and their needs cared for without stint.
But at the same time an opening for maintaining amicable relations with
the victor was preserved, by sending a formal embassy to Alexander to
congratulate him on his return from Illyria and for his quick victory
over the rebels in Thebes.

The true situation of affairs in Athens was an open secret. Alexander
knew the part played by the Athenians in preparing for the Theban
revolt; he knew, too, that they had been on the point of actively
and openly co-operating with the Thebans, and that the plan had been
frustrated only by the rapidity with which he had moved on the city.
Yet the young ruler showed himself unexpectedly placable in his
treatment of Athens. There is no reason to attribute his attitude
to mere generosity of sentiment in favor of the city because of its
glorious past. There were more practical reasons; the siege of Athens
could hardly be successful except through command of the sea, and any
attempt of this kind would most likely have been frustrated or at least
rendered doubtful by the intervention of the Persian fleet.

Instead of advancing into Attica, Alexander stopped to parley, and
agreed to abstain from hostilities on condition that the Athenians
should promptly expel the Theban fugitives, and also should surrender
to him the men who had been lately responsible for the anti-Macedonian
direction of the government. It is to the credit of the Athenians that
the first condition was without a negative rejected; and as to the
second there were many of the anti-democratic faction who would have
been glad to get rid of their opponents by agreeing to this indirect
demand of the Macedonian king that the government of the city should
be handed over to his partisans. Phokion, one of the distinguished
and revered members of the oligarchic group, was willing to accept
the condition unreservedly; but Demosthenes and Demades, another
popular leader, successfully urged the assembly of the people to vote
against it, and even Phokion agreed to head an embassy to acquaint
Alexander with the decision of the Athenian citizens. The king showed
himself ready to compromise, for the success of his schemes against
Asia depended largely on the good will of Athens and its fleet. It
was finally arranged that the Athenian anti-Macedonian military
leader Charidemos should be banished, a proposal to which it was all
the easier for the Athenians to accede, because he was not a native
Athenian. This officer and several others withdrew to Asia and took
service under Darius.




III THE CONQUEST OF PERSIA


Now that the pacification of Greece was effected by the restoration of
Athens as a member of the Macedonian confederacy, Alexander, without
visiting that city, marched to the isthmus of Corinth to arrange for
the various Greek contingents for his expedition to Asia, and after
receiving from the oracle at Delphi a reply encouraging him to carry
out his grandiose scheme of conquest, he retired to Macedonia to spend
the winter before setting out on his march against the Persian Empire.

Of the details of his proposed invasion nothing is known beyond the
fact that his original scheme must have been considerably modified
as he penetrated farther into Asia. His geographical knowledge of
the interior of the empire could hardly have been sufficient for an
orderly mapping out beforehand of the course he actually took. That was
entirely governed by the extraordinary series of events which marked
the various stages of his expedition. His design was to dethrone
the Persian king and secure possession of the country. To do this
effectively the first step was to conquer Asia Minor, to get under his
control the remoter provinces of Syria and Egypt, and then to advance
on Babylon and Susa. That there was immediate necessity for setting his
army on the march was plain to him, because of the dangerous position
of the Macedonian forces already in Asia Minor. The Persian general,
Memnon, had checkmated Parmenio, who was recalled, and the prospects of
Macedonian success were blighted by the defeat of another Macedonian
general Kallás in the Troad. Before Alexander left his own kingdom,
the authority of the Persian government had been generally restored
throughout the whole of Asia Minor.

In the spring of 334, Alexander marched to the Hellespont with an
army numbering altogether 30,000 infantry and 4500 cavalry. Of these,
12,000 infantry and 1500 cavalry were from Macedon; contingents from
the allies made up the rest. There were besides 160 warships, of
which Athens furnished twenty. Alexander’s chief military adviser
was Parmenio, whom Philip, his father, had declared to be the only
Macedonian general he had discovered in many years. Of the subordinate
officers the most noteworthy were Philotas, who was in command of the
Macedonian cavalry, and Nikanor, who led the álite of the Macedonian
infantry (the so-called Hypaspistæ, or the Bodyguards). During the
absence of the king, the administration of Macedon and of the subject
states was left in the hands of Antipater.

The incompetence of the Persians in aggressive resistance was manifest
from the first. They were far superior to the Greeks at sea, and if
they had made intelligent use of their fleet they could have prevented
Alexander’s army from crossing the Hellespont. Indeed, orders had been
issued the year before to the coast cities that their ships should be
kept in readiness in anticipation of an invasion. But so slipshod was
the administration in the loosely governed provinces of Persia that
their great fleet was unable to put to sea when Alexander reached
the narrow arm of water which divides Europe from Asia. He had no
difficulty in passing; indeed Parmenio was left to superintend this
operation, while the young king visited the cities of the Troad rich
in legendary lore, and made a pilgrimage to the tomb of his reputed
ancestor, Achilles.

The Greeks soon began their march down the coast. The satraps of the
neighboring provinces had in the meantime gathered together all the
troops available in the Propontis and had joined the army of Memnon.
From the statements made in contemporary sources, it is not possible to
gather the numerical strength of the army which now opposed Alexander’s
advance; it is certain, however, that in infantry the Persians were
weaker than the Greeks, while it is probable that they were also
outnumbered in cavalry.

They were certainly aware of their weakness, because Memnon advised
against a stand-up battle, suggesting instead that they should retire
into the interior, wasting the country as they went, and so hinder the
rapidity of the enemy’s march until their own fleet appeared; then the
war could be carried into Greece and Alexander forced to retreat. But
this prudent strategy was not acceptable to the Persian satraps, who
preferred active measures that seemed to offer a chance of preventing
Alexander from getting a firm foothold in Persian territory.

They prepared to offer battle by taking up a position on the river
Granicus, a stream flowing down from the northern slope of Mt. Ida
to the Propontis. It seems as if the Persians, conscious of their
weakness, selected a battlefield where their enemies, with a river in
front of them, would find it a matter of some difficulty to attack.
They may have supposed that Alexander would hesitate to advance under
such unfavorable conditions. The Macedonian army was so disposed
that the heavy-armed infantry held the center while the wings were
formed by the cavalry and the bowmen. Alexander himself was with the
picked Macedonian cavalry on the right wing; next him were arranged
the hypaspists, extending towards the middle. This wing, comprising
cavalry, bowmen, and heavy-armed troops, appears to have crossed the
river first and to have put to flight the Persian cavalry. That the
Persians used horsemen here and not bowmen seems strange. Cavalry were
of little use in preventing an advance up the steep slope from the
stream.

First the Persian horse were put to flight by the right Macedonian
wing, commanded by Alexander, who took an active part in the
hand-to-hand conflict; then the phalanx of Greek mercenaries on the
Persian side, who had stood by hitherto without taking any part in the
engagement, were attacked in front by the Macedonian phalanx and on the
flanks by the cavalry and bowmen and, being thus prevented from making
any real resistance, were hewn down or taken prisoners. The Macedonian
loss was so small, eighty-five horsemen and thirty foot soldiers, that
it would seem that probably the Greek mercenaries, instead of resisting
their own kinsmen, allowed themselves to be taken prisoners. The brunt
of the battle was borne by the Persian horsemen, who fought valorously,
and in the obstinate scrimmage with them Alexander was in considerable
personal danger. Two of the satraps lost their lives on the field.
The Greek prisoners were sent in chains to Macedon, and of the booty
taken, 300 suits of armor were sent to the Parthenon at Athens as
a thank-offering, a visible reminder to the Greeks of the victor’s
progress. (May-June, 334 B.C.)

The fruits of the victory were immediate: several of the principal
cities surrendered, among them Sardis, with its impregnable citadel,
and Ephesus. In both places Alexander was greeted as a deliverer from
Persian tyranny; democratic government was restored, and a beginning
was made for organizing a massacre of the oligarchic faction. This
Alexander prevented, making it clear by his intervention that he did
not wish to alienate the sympathies of the propertied classes in Asia.
Of the other Greek cities in Ionia and Æolis, only one gave serious
trouble, Miletus, which looked to the Persian fleet for aid. It was
occupied besides by a strong garrison of Greek mercenaries. Alexander’s
fleet, however, appeared at Miletus before the Persian fleet, which was
on its way from Cyprus and Phœnicia, reached the scene of action. When
this fleet came up, it tried in vain to entice the Macedonian ships
into an action, and remained idly by while Alexander besieged Miletus
and finally took it by storm.

The sole stronghold still left to Persia in the region was
Halicarnassus to the south. Hither the Persian fleet repaired, and
here, as the place was strongly fortified and well manned with troops,
Memnon planned to establish a base for further operations by sea
against Greece itself. But Alexander declined to take the risk of
meeting the Persian fleet in a naval engagement. Winter was at hand,
and most of the Macedonian ships had been sent home; there was only
a small squadron left, and the king marched south with his army to
besiege Halicarnassus by land.

The problem before him was anything but easy, for Halicarnassus,
besides being strongly fortified, had through the presence of the
Persian fleet free communication with the outside. It could be supplied
with food, although the opportunity of obtaining mercenary troops from
Greece was made difficult through the fear of Macedon. The city walls
were surrounded with wide ditches and these Alexander filled up, in
order to give access to his siege engines. Several breaches were made,
but the first attempt to storm the place failed, and the defenders of
the city erected new fortifications in place of those that had been cut
down. They also made a sortie, trying to destroy the siege engines,
but were repulsed with loss. Memnon saw that the town could no longer
be held, and by night embarked his troops, carrying them to Cos; but
before he left he set fire to the abandoned town. Alexander immediately
entered, showed himself merciful to its citizens, and proceeded
on his march, leaving a division of 3050 men to watch the citadel
of Halicarnassus, which evidently he did not think of sufficient
importance to besiege now that the Persians had only a small number of
troops in the neighborhood, in Salmakis and on the island Arconnesus.

The whole of the province of Caria now ceased to resist, with the
exception of a few places on the coast. A part of the Greek army, under
the orders of Parmenio, were sent into winter quarters in Lydia, while
Alexander advanced through Lycia and Pamphylia, without meeting any
real resistance, and marched by the way of the mountainous country of
Pisidia, among a population never conquered by the Persians, and in
the spring of 333 joined Parmenio at Gordion, the ancient capital of
Phrygia. From here the route of the army was through Cappadocia by
the narrow pass called the Cilician Gate, by which the road from the
interior plateau crosses the Taurus on its way to Tarsus. The garrison
which occupied the pass fled on the approach of the Greek army, Tarsus
itself was abandoned, and the whole province of Cilicia was occupied
without resistance.

In the meantime, however, Memnon had not been inactive, and he was
putting to good use his superiority in naval strength. Several islands
had either been occupied or were making preparations to join the
Persian general, and even in continental Greece the anti-Macedonian
influence was being felt. There was no question that Memnon’s arrival
on the shores of European Greece would be the signal for a general
abandonment of the Macedonian cause. Athens even sent an embassy to
Darius, although the city did not dare to join the Persians openly. In
the midst of these successes, Memnon was taken ill and died. Those who
succeeded him in the command showed none of his capacity. The fleet
was kept in inactivity, and though on land some small successes could
be put to the credit of the Persian arms in Asia Minor, the soldiers
operating there were soon directed to join the main army of Darius
in Syria, now being collected to meet the advancing Greeks. When the
news of Alexander’s victory at the Granicus reached the interior of
the Persian Empire, Darius began to draw together a large army, and
leaving Babylon in January, reached northern Syria in autumn. Alexander
was still in Cilicia, detained in Tarsus by a severe illness, and on
his recovery busied himself with the conquest of some of the coast
cities. But when he heard of the advance of Darius, he marched trough
the narrow pass near the coast which connects Cilicia and Syria, and
commenced the siege of Myriandros, the first Phœnician city on the
road. He evidently reckoned on Darius meeting him in the level places
of northern Persia, where the latter’s cavalry could be used to its
best advantage, but Darius showed a keener strategical instinct than is
usually associated with Persian generalship. While Alexander was taking
the coast road south, Darius’ army made a northerly movement, passing
over a difficult mountain region, and so appeared in the rear of the
Macedonian army on the level plain near Issus. The Persians had a
strong position; on their right was the sea, and on their left a chain
of mountains. On the front they were protected by the deeply worn bed
of the river Pinarus. They had also constructed a line of earthworks.

The preliminary operations of the Persians were conducted with
great intelligence. By them Alexander was cut off from his base and
his position was desperate, unless he could restore his line of
communications by a successful engagement. This was no easy matter, for
the mountain defile, the Assyrian Gate, had to be passed through, a
place where the mountains and the sea are so close that there is room
only for a road. Darius had an excellent position but failed to make
any use of it. Without attempting to interfere he allowed Alexander to
march through the narrow strip of land between the mountains and the
sea and to change from a column formation into regular battle array.

It took the Greek commander the whole night to make the journey from
Myriandros, a place south of the defile, to the level country on the
banks of the Pinarus. As Alexander’s army debouched on the plain, the
cavalry and the light-armed troops sent against them by Darius failed
to arrest their progress. The Persians were outmanœuvered from the
start, for on the plain, which had very narrow limits--a little more
than two miles wide--Darius could make no use of his superior numbers,
nor was there opportunity for bringing to bear to any purpose the
Persian advantage in cavalry. It was possible for Alexander to extend
his own line of battle just as far as the enemy could, and the nature
of the ground protected him against any enveloping manœuver. Thus the
disposable forces, on either side, were equalized, and on account of
the superior training and skill of the Macedonians, there was little
doubt from the first as to the issue of the fight.

On the Greek side the left wing was commanded by Alexander in person,
and it was made up of the Macedonian cavalry, the hypaspists, and
a part of the ordinary infantry. The vigor of their onslaught was
irresistible, and the Asiatics opposed to them gave way after a short
struggle and fled. The whole Persian center was disorganized, even
Darius avoiding capture with difficulty. His chariots, his royal robes,
and his arms fell into the hands of the victorious Greeks. In another
part of the field Parmenio, who was in command of the left wing of
the Greek army, had no easy time in withstanding the charges of the
Asiatic cavalry, and also when the Macedonian phalanx undertook to
storm the heights which were occupied by Greek mercenary troops on the
other side, they were repulsed with considerable loss. Fortunately,
Alexander, after defeating the division opposed to him, was able to use
his infantry to attack the mercenaries on their rear, and they were
forced to withdraw from the field. They retired in good order, but the
Persian cavalry proved inefficient, and were repulsed with great loss.
In their flight they demoralized the reserves which had been placed
by the Persians immediately behind the line of battle. The Persian
army ceased to exist as a military entity and the fugitives were saved
from further pursuit only by the early nightfall of the autumn season.
Darius was able to bring together on the other side of the Syrian
mountains 4000 men, most of whom were Greek mercenaries, and with a
small force he recrossed the Euphrates. The main body of the Greeks,
attached to the army of Darius, made their way to Tripolis in Phœnicia
and from there sailed to Cyprus. (October, 333 B.C.)

After the battle the Persian camp was occupied by the Greeks, and
among the captives were the mother of Darius and his wife, Stateira,
and her children. These members of the royal household were treated
considerately. Their presence with the Greek army was a most
valuable asset, and a few days after his defeat Darius began to open
negotiations for the purpose of having the captives restored to him.
Alexander showed no unfriendly spirit, and received an embassy with
formal proposals of peace from Darius. The conditions were, that all of
the country west of the Euphrates should be ceded and the large sum of
10,000 talents given for the return of the royal captives. In addition
to this, as a pledge of good faith, it was proposed that Alexander
should receive one of the king’s daughters in marriage. The offer was a
proof that Darius realized how deep was his humiliation and how small
the chance of successful resistance to the conqueror.

Liberal as the terms were, it must have been plain to Alexander that
to make peace now was to leave his work half finished, especially as
the first half was the more difficult. In it he had defeated the best
soldiers under the command of Darius, and there was nothing more to
fear from the Persian fleet, its most important units being withdrawn
to protect Syria, nor was a rising in Greece likely to be attempted.
The news of the battle of Issus had made the anti-Macedonian faction
in the Greek cities see the purposelessness of counting on the
co-operation of Persia. At the Isthmian games the representatives of
the Hellenic confederation voted Alexander a golden crown as a defender
of the liberties of Greece.

Alexander answered the proposition of the Persian king in a stern
mood, fully conscious of his strength. His letter to Darius, which
has been preserved, is a document that speaks in no uncertain tone.
“Your ancestors invaded Macedonia and the rest of Greece, and without
provocation inflicted wrongs upon us. I was appointed leader of the
Greeks and crossed over into Asia for the purpose of avenging those
wrongs; for ye were the first aggressors. In the next place ye assisted
the people of Perinthus, who were offenders against my father, and
Ochus sent a force into Thrace, which was part of our empire. Further,
the conspirators who slew my father were suborned by you, as ye
yourselves boasted in your letters. Thou with the help of Bagoas didst
murder Arses (son of Ochus) and seize the throne unjustly and contrary
to the law of the Persians, and then thou didst write improper letters
regarding me to the Greeks, to incite them to war against me, and
didst send to the Lacedæmonians and other of the Greeks, for the same
purpose, sums of money (whereof none of the other cities partook but
only the Lacedæmonians); and these emissaries corrupted my friends
and tried to dissolve the peace which I had brought about in Greece.
Wherefore I marched forth against thee who wert the aggressor in
general. I have overcome in battle first thy generals and satraps, and
now thyself and thine host, and possess thy land through the grace of
the gods. Those who fought on thy side and were not slain but took
refuge with me, are under my protection and are glad to be with me and
will fight with me henceforward. I am lord of all Asia, and therefore
do thou come to me. If thou art afraid of being evilly entreated, send
some of thy friends to receive sufficient guaranties. Thou hast only to
come to me to ask and receive thy mother and children, and whatsoever
else thou mayest desire. And for the future whenever thou sendest, send
to me as to the Great King of Asia, and do not write as to an equal,
but tell me whatever thy need be, as to one who is lord of all that is
thine. Otherwise I shall deal with thee as an offender. But if thou
disputest the kingdom, then wait and fight for it again and do not
flee; for I will march against thee, wherever thou mayest be.”

Darius now set about collecting another army and made no more peace
proposals. He gathered the fragments of the force that had been beaten
at Issus, and to this were added contingents drawn from all the
furthermost parts of his empire still in his hands. The army so formed
was almost exclusively Asiatic, for of Greek mercenaries there were
only the soldiers, a few thousand all told, who had followed him in his
flight. No others could now be secured. Darius’ new plan was to await
the approach of Alexander on the plains of Assyria, where the Persian
cavalry could be used with most effect.

On Alexander’s part there was no haste in turning to the interior.
Instead of following Darius, he remained on the sea coast, while
Parmenio was sent to Damascus with half the Greek army, to seize the
treasure left there by Darius before the battle of Issus. Alexander
with the rest of the army turned south to the conquest of the great
island city of Phœnicia, which unlike its smaller neighbors had refused
to surrender and had declared its neutrality to Alexander. Tyre was the
center of Persian sea power, and so long as it remained independent its
fleet could be used against the Greek king, either on the sea itself or
as an instrument for creating disturbances in continental Greece.

The siege of Tyre involved special difficulties; not only were its
walls high and strong, but it was situated on an island separated
from the mainland by a shallow body of water. As Alexander had no
fleet adequate to conduct aggressive operations from the open sea
against the city, he planned to bring up his siege engines against
the walls from the land side, by building a causeway over the shallow
body of water. The defenders of the town tried repeatedly and with
great bravery to prevent such an approach from being made. Tyre’s own
commercial competitors, Cyprus and the less important Phœnician cities,
including Sidon, placed their navies at Alexander’s disposition, and
with their ships he began to operate from the sea. The situation of the
town was desperate, but its people made a defense as desperate and as
resourceful as their daughter city Carthage in later days against the
Romans.

When the causeway was finally constructed, the walls on this side,
being 150 feet high and enormously thick, were not damaged by the
siege engines. Accordingly Alexander changed his plans quickly; the
engines were mounted in vessels and a breach was effected in one of the
battlements extending along the harbor. While the Macedonians were now
able to penetrate the city, they met with heavy resistance from the
besieged townsmen, and the occupation of Tyre was only effected by the
protection of Alexander’s naval allies, who forced an entrance into the
two harbors, and so drew off a portion of the defenders from the side
where the Greeks were making their attack. The stubborn defense cost
the Tyrians 8000 men, and of the prisoners 3000 were sold as slaves.
On the Macedonian side the loss was small, only amounting to 400 men,
but no mention is made of the losses of the allied fleets. The siege of
Tyre lasted seven months, the city falling in July, 332. The long delay
was worth while, for the successful issue showed how invincible was the
generalship of the Greek leader. By the possession of the city he held
the key to the control of the eastern Mediterranean.

On the way south he met with no resistance except from the strong
citadel at Gaza, which withstood him for two months and was finally
taken by storm. The march to Egypt could now be safely undertaken,
as the whole sea coast from the Hellespont south was in the hands
of the Greeks. Egypt itself had no love for its Persian masters. It
had not long before been autonomous for fifty years, and it had been
brought back under the régime of the Great King under circumstances of
repression that made its inhabitants greet Alexander as a liberator.
The Persian governor, seeing the folly of resistance, gave up the
strong places, and Alexander passed the winter in the country. During
his stay he founded the only good harbor on the coast, the city which
still bears his name. This undertaking was not the boastful action of a
conqueror, solicitous of the praise of posterity; it was a keen-sighted
scheme to divert from the Phœnician towns of Syria the control of the
Mediterranean trade. Within half a century Alexandria had become a
great commercial emporium, the center of Greek science and learning,
and for three hundred years it continued to be the richest and largest
city in the world.

As the members of the old Egyptian monarchy had proclaimed themselves
sons of Ammon, Alexander, in order to regularize his position in the
newly conquered province, made a visit to the temple of Zeus Ammon,
traveling across the desert with a small company of troops. He was
greeted by the priests of the temple as the divinely accredited ruler
of Egypt, but the exact words of the response of the oracle were not
communicated. They were kept as a mystery, but the divine honors
claimed afterwards by Alexander were always connected with this
mysterious attestation of his claim that his father was no earthly
parent, but Zeus himself.

Darius, meanwhile, was in no position to interrupt this series of
successes in Syria and in Egypt. He had no army there prepared to
take the field, but he did try to interfere with the Greek lines
of communication in regions more remote from the present scene of
operations. Antigonus, left in Phrygia as its governor, was attacked
by a force composed of some of the soldiers who had fought on the
Persian side at Issus, as well as of contingents from Cappadocia
and Paphlagonia. But the attempt was unsuccessful. Antigonus showed
remarkable military ability, for with his small force he defeated the
Persians and added to the region under him the country of Lycaonia,
which had never submitted to Persian rule. In the spring of 331
Alexander left Egypt for his march to the interior of the Persian
Empire, and by the middle of the summer he crossed the Euphrates
near Thapsacus, and from there, taking a northerly direction through
Mesopotamia, he passed the Tigris on the 20th of September.

The advance of the Greek army was continuous, little resistance being
offered to its progress. It seemed to be the aim of Darius to do
nothing to prevent Alexander from penetrating into the interior. If
the Greeks were defeated there, they would be cut off from retreat,
and in case the Persians again failed, there would be a chance for
the vanquished to withdraw in security to the mountainous country to
the north. Alexander has been criticised for delaying so long in his
occupation of Syria and Egypt; indeed Parmenio had urged him to accept
the terms offered by Darius after the battle of Issus, a suggestion
which called forth from Alexander the reply “that he would do it if
he were Parmenio.” But the small number of soldiers under his command
showed the strategy he followed to be as cautious as his conduct of the
expedition was daring. If he had gone straight on after the battle of
Issus, he would have been obliged to detach enough men from his main
army to act as a corps of observation in Syria and Egypt, and this
would have left him hardly more than 20,000 men.

In the meantime he had received accessions of numbers, so that when he
came to confront Darius for the second time he had under his command
about 47,000 men. The engagement took place at Gaugamela (October, 331
B.C.), not far from the ruins of Nineveh. Darius had made some attempt
to give an improved armament to his foot soldiers, supplying them
with longer spears and swords so that they might fight the Macedonian
phalanx on more equal terms. Besides this, he had provided chariots
armed with scythes and a small number of elephants, which could be
effectively used only in a level country. But his chief hope lay in his
cavalry, of which he probably had 12,000, while Alexander had but 7000.

The Greeks had had four days’ rest in a fortified camp before they
were drawn up in battle array, and besides this the ground between
them and the Persians had been carefully reconnoitered, in order to
discern if the enemy had constructed concealed pits to confuse the
cavalry charge. There was no way of protecting the flanks of the army,
so Alexander placed a reserve force behind with orders to move towards
the right or the left, according as the expected turning movement from
the Persians might develop. The Greeks moved forward on the 30th of
September, with Alexander leading the Macedonian heavy cavalry and the
bulk of the phalanx. He directed his attack against the enemy’s left
wing, but as he did so he was charged on the flank by the Scythian and
Bactrian horse. He sent against them the reserves previously mentioned,
and himself engaged the Persian infantry, who had lost heart when
they were attacked by the Macedonian cavalry. The manœuvers with the
scythe-bearing chariots did no damage, for the Greeks made way for them
to pass through their ranks, and re-formed again as soon as they had
rattled past. The onslaught of the phalanx proved irresistible; the
Asiatic foot could not withstand its superior armament and discipline.
The Persian center was broken and again Darius had the ignominious
experience of a headlong flight. The Persian cavalry, left to battle
alone, was soon demoralized and could not hold its ground.

Parmenio’s experience with the left wing of the Greeks was different,
for he had difficulty in keeping his position against the Persian
horse. He could not follow Alexander’s advance, and hence there came
to be a great gap between the two positions of the army. In this open
space the Persians precipitated themselves; the Greek lines in battle
array were forced farther apart and their camp occupied. It was a
most dangerous position, but the barbarians, instead of using their
advantage, busied themselves in plundering the Greek camp. Alexander
turned from pursuing the Persian center to help the hard-pressed left
wing, and on his way met the enemy’s cavalry, now on their way back
with the booty of the Macedonian camp. He tried to cut them off from
their main body, but they fought with desperation and succeeded in
breaking through. In the hand-to-hand fights one of Alexander’s closest
friends, Hephæstion, was wounded.

The danger to the left wing was now over, for the Persian commander
Mazæus, on hearing of his king’s flight, had ceased the attack on
Parmenio, who now occupied the Persian camp, while Alexander resumed
the pursuit of the main body, anxious to get Darius into his hands.
He marched with great rapidity, reaching on the day after the battle
Arbela, at which place the supplies and treasures of the flying
Persians were discovered. But the Great King had made good his escape
to Media, where, owing to the mountainous character of the country,
it was useless to pursue him farther. The results of the battle were
impressive materially and emotionally. The Persians had no heart to
continue the war. Their army was destroyed, 10,000 prisoners were in
the hands of their enemy, and the road to their capitals, Babylon and
Susa, lay open. All this had been won by Alexander at a small cost,
only 100 Macedonians having fallen, and the whole loss of the Greek
army did not exceed 500 men.

Alexander marched to Babylon, which was surrendered without resistance
by its inhabitants, who welcomed him as a liberator. Religious
differences had made the citizens regard the Persians as oppressors,
and Alexander won over the Babylonians by acting as the protector of
their national religion. He rebuilt the Babylonian temples and also
showed a placable temper by keeping the Persian Mazæus as satrap of
the province of Babylonia. Without delaying at Babylon longer than was
necessary to conciliate the inhabitants, Alexander passed to Susa. Its
citadel offered no resistance, and with its surrender the town and
its treasury, amounting to 50,000 talents ($60,000,000), became the
property of the conqueror. (December, 331 B.C.)

The next stage of the conquest of the interior of Asia was the
occupation of the country called Persis, the homeland of the Persians.
To reach it a difficult country held by Uxian hillmen had to be passed.
These were proud of their independence, for they had never paid tribute
to the Persians, and they now occupied their mountain defile, prepared
to dispute the passage of the Greeks. They were easily circumvented by
Alexander’s strategy, and brought to reason. Farther on, the access to
Persepolis was strongly defended by the Persians, but Alexander forced
his way through devious mountain roads and took the capital without
trouble. The national treasure, equivalent to 120,000 talents, fell
into his hands.

Up to this point the march of Alexander had been through territories
which the Persians had themselves acquired by conquest, and which had
been long exploited by their satraps. The populations were, therefore,
not inimical to the new conquerors. Indeed, as we have seen in many
cases, the latter were greeted as deliverers from the heavy yoke of the
Persians. On its side, the Macedonian army had been kept under strict
discipline, and the lives and property of the people through whom it
had passed were carefully respected. But Persepolis was really in the
enemy’s country, the cradle of Persian rule, and there was no chance
of reconciling its inhabitants by kind treatment. They were now to
feel the brunt of real warfare. The city was given up to plunder, and
the royal citadel of the Achæmenian kings was burnt down in a drunken
revel. This ruthless act has been condemned, and it does appear to have
been the result of a moment of excess, not planned as part of a policy
of repression, for Alexander ordered the flames quenched, though he
himself had cast the first firebrand that had set the costly cedar work
of the palace in flames.

These various military operations lasted far into the autumn. When
winter came the sorely tried and traveled Greeks took four months’
rest, and from this point begins another stage in the expedition, for
Persis was regarded as sufficiently pacified to allow the bulk of the
army to march into Media. Here Darius was preparing to make a last
stand, but his efforts to collect a new army had the somewhat pitiful
result of bringing to his standard a force of not more than 3000
horsemen and 6000 foot soldiers. As the Greeks approached, he fled
before them, recognizing the hopelessness of resistance. He seemed
minded to take refuge in the extreme limits of what had been his
empire, the province of Bactria. Without striking a blow, Alexander
occupied Ecbatana, the last of the great Persian capitals.

All that now remained was to round off the conquest by capturing the
person of the defeated monarch, and to force the satraps of the eastern
provinces to accept the new régime. This program offered no serious
military problems, but it was bound to consume time and required
patience. Many of the non-Macedonian Greeks were now sent home, after
receiving generous rewards for their service, and Parmenio was left
at Ecbatana, while Alexander with the best of his troops set off to
pursue Darius. Hurrying on by Ragæ, a place a little to the south of
the modern capital of Persia, Alexander found there that the royal
fugitive had already passed through the Caspian Gates into the regions
of Parthia. Bactria was still much farther to the east. The followers
of Darius, with the exception of a few faithful Greek mercenaries,
determined to hand over their unlucky monarch as a prisoner to the
satrap of Bactria, Bessus, a kinsman of his, and to trust to his
initiative to organize a national resistance more effectively than
Darius.

When Alexander, after a stay of several days at Ragæ, heard that his
old antagonist was a prisoner he hurried on, taking rest neither by
night nor by day, and finally came up with the barbarians, who now
preserved no semblance of discipline in their retreat. When Bessus and
the other conspirators saw Alexander approaching, they ordered Darius,
who was probably carried in a litter, to mount a horse and accompany
them. When he refused, they stabbed him and rode off. He was found
dying at a spring near the road, by a Macedonian soldier. By the time
Alexander reached the place the end had come. All that he could do for
his fallen foe was to throw his own cloak over the body and order it to
be sent with befitting honor to the queen mother. The last member of
the Persian monarchy, which had become a world power under Cyrus, was
buried in the royal tombs at Persepolis.




IV THE INVASION OF INDIA


The death of Darius did not delay the activity of Alexander; he was all
the more stirred to pursue Bessus when it was announced that the satrap
of Bactria was claiming to be the successor of Darius and had assumed
the insignia of royalty. But the regions close at hand had to be
pacified, so Parmenio was sent to occupy the country near the southwest
coast of the Caspian Sea. Alexander himself had to retrace his steps to
deal with a rebellious satrap who had previously sent in his submission.

On the march southward, the province of Drangiana was taken without
resistance, but the conqueror’s stay at the capital, Prophthasia, was
marked by a mysterious tragedy. It was reported to Alexander that
Philotas, the son of Parmenio, was plotting against him. An assembly of
the Macedonian army was summoned, and the charges laid formally before
them. Philotas admitted that he had known of a plot to assassinate
Alexander, but had kept it secret. This reserve was treated as treason,
and Philotas was put to death by the soldiers. This semi-judicial act
was followed by the murder at Alexander’s command of his faithful
lieutenant, Parmenio, for which there was no excuse, as he had never
been charged with complicity in the guilty knowledge of his son.
But Alexander probably judged that the execution of Philotas would
inaugurate a blood feud familiar to Macedonian life, and he resolved to
take no chances.

The road to Bactria selected by Alexander led him through modern
Afghanistan and across the Hindu Kush mountains. But first he turned to
the south in order to secure Seistan and the northwestern portion of
Baluchistan, known at that time as Gedrosia. The winter of 330-29 he
spent in the south of Seistan among a friendly people, the Ariaspæ, to
whom, on account of their hospitable reception, he granted autonomy.
Among the Gedrosians, their neighbors, he set up a satrapy, with a
capital at Pasa.

In the spring, the Greek army pushed on to Arachosia, almost directly
south of Bactria, where the king founded another Alexandria, probably
on the site of the modern Candahar. At the foot of the high range of
the Hindu Kush, a complex mass of mountains which divides southern from
central, eastern from western Asia, called Paropanisus, the army passed
the winter, and yet another city, named after their leader, was founded
somewhere to the north of Cabul, Alexandria of the Caucasus. In the
early spring the difficult mountain ranges which protected Bactria were
crossed, the troops suffering much from the cold and from the lack of
food. They were obliged to subsist on raw meat and on herbs instead of
bread. After resting the army, Alexander led them on through an arid
plain to Bactria, the chief city of the satrapy. (329-28 B.C.)

Bessus, the pretender, had tried to hinder the progress of the Greeks
by laying waste the country in front of them, but as soon as they drew
near, his horsemen deserted him and he fled across the Oxus. Alexander
lost no time in following him up. The pursuit carried him through
Sogdiana, where he crossed the Oxus on the rafts, made of inflated
skins, such as are still in use to-day. The river was passed at a point
where it was not a mile wide, at Kilif, and from thence the road was
taken to Maracanda, a town whose old name is now thinly disguised as
Samarcand. Bessus was deserted by his supporters, who thought that they
would be glad to secure peace by his surrender. They abandoned him, and
he was found by a division of the Greek army in a walled village, and
was finally sent in chains to Bactria, after Alexander had charged him
with the murder of Darius, his kinsman and benefactor.

The ardor for annexing the Far Eastern division of the Persian Empire
to his rule spurred Alexander on, now that the rebellion of Bessus had
so unexpectedly failed. He purposed to make, not the Oxus, but the
Tanais his frontier on the northeast. The resistance seemed easily
overcome; the seven strongholds of the Sogdians were occupied, and on
the banks of the Jaxartes, or Tanais, at a point which is the gate of
communication between southwestern Asia and China, the pass over the
Tian-shan mountains, Alexander set the boundary of his conquests in
this direction, by founding a new city called Alexandria the Ultimate,
in later days Khodjend. While he was planning his new town, the country
rose in revolt, for the chieftains of Sogdiana had no mind to lose
their freedom. The small Macedonian garrisons left in the strongholds
a short time before were overpowered, and the city of Maracanda was
being besieged. The news of the revolt had spread far and wide, and
the various Scythian tribes were hurrying to join in driving out the
invaders. Alexander quickly recovered the strongholds, burning five of
them, but at Cyropolis there was stout resistance, and he received a
wound. The inhabitants of all were removed and forcibly transplanted as
citizens of the new Alexandria. (328 B.C.)

It was not possible to go to the rescue of Maracanda because of the
threatening attitude of the Scythian tribes, who were preparing to
descend upon Alexandria, which was only separated from them by the
river Tanais. The danger of being rushed by these barbarous hordes was
imminent. The new city, therefore, was made capable of resistance; in
the short period of twenty days it was surrounded with walls of unburnt
clay. But Alexander determined also to strike terror by aggressive
action. He brought up to the banks of the river engines which threw
stones and darts among the enemy and forced them to retreat from the
stream. Then the Greek army crossed, and the Scythians were soon
routed. The king, with his cavalry, pursued them some distance in their
own territory. The heat was intense and Alexander was made dangerously
ill by drinking the water along the line of march.

On his recovery he had to deal with a difficult revolt in Sogdiana,
again led by Spitamenes, who had figured in the previous uprising
and who this time had succeeded in cutting off a detachment of
Macedonian troops sent in pursuit of him. It is recounted that the
fear of a disaster made such a serious impression on the conqueror
that he covered the distance to Samarcand, over 150 miles, in three
days. Spitamenes did not wait to try conclusions with the Greeks, but
abandoned the siege, drawing off hurriedly in a westward direction,
closely pursued by Alexander.

The Persian leader and his Scythian supporters were driven into the
wastes across the river Sogda, and Alexander, after ravaging the
province of Sogdiana, crossed into western Bactria and passed the
winter at Zariaspa, one of the chief cities of that region.

While residing here, the trial of the pretender Bessus was begun. He
was condemned to mutilation and to die on the cross at Ecbatana. This
type of punishment was alien to Greek feeling and tradition, but it
is not necessary to say that Alexander’s apologists have argued the
necessity of conforming to the habits of Oriental races when they are
to be ruled successfully by outsiders. Alexander himself, as he had
never assimilated the best traditions of Greece, seemed ready enough to
adopt Oriental customs either to heighten his own dignity in Persia or
to impress the Persians that he was the legitimate successor of Darius.

The colloquial axiom, “the longest way round is the shortest way home,”
can be applied to the science of government and politics, and it is
more than probable that the Hellenization of Asia would have had less
of the pinchbeck quality if Alexander had been trained in Sparta rather
than in Macedon. In any case, we know that his abandonment of the
homely traits characteristic of the relations between a Greek commander
and his soldiers made him unpopular, and that, especially, the favor
shown by him to the Persians who sided with him was distasteful to the
Macedonians. His execution of Parmenio savored of oriental despotism,
and during this winter there were open signs of discontent in the camp.
(328-27 B.C.)

The winter quarters were changed to Maracanda on account of the
restlessness among the natives, and in the relaxation from the strict
discipline the soldiers and their leaders spent much of their time
in carousing. On one occasion when Alexander and his companions were
excited with wine, the king was made indignant at some slighting
reference to his military exploits made by his foster-brother Clitus,
who appealed to some verses of Euripides which signify that the army
does the work and the general reaps the glory. Alexander in his drunken
passion hurled a spear at the offender, and Clitus fell dead. The fatal
issue of this drunken quarrel was followed by three days’ passionate
remorse, and Alexander lay in his tent sleepless and refused food. The
fact that he had murdered his intimate friend could not be glossed over
even if the army were willing to exculpate their leader, by giving
Clitus a post-mortem trial, or by their ascribing the act to the
Dioscuri, whose festival was being celebrated at the time.

The excitable temperament of Alexander, unfortunately, cannot always be
ascribed to intemperance in drink. He began to be intoxicated with the
idea that he was a semi-divine being, and he undertook to act the rôle
of an avenging deity, in executing a ruthless sentence of destruction
on a small Greek colony in Sogdiana, where dwelt the descendants of
the people of Branchidæ, who generations before had betrayed to the
Persians the treasures of a temple of Apollo not far from Miletus.
The act had never been forgotten, and now Alexander caused all the
inhabitants of the place to be massacred, and every vestige of it to be
destroyed. An action like this was alien to the spirit of free Greece,
and it marks the king’s progress in Oriental despotism. It is all the
more a witness to his personal degradation that the Milesian men in his
own army, to whom Alexander wished to leave the decision, could not
themselves agree on the fate of the Branchidæ, and hence the initiative
in the massacre was due to the savage sentiments of their leader.

The pacification of Sogdiana took some time, owing to the rugged nature
of the regions in the southern part of the province, but the campaign
is chiefly noteworthy because it resulted in the marriage of Alexander
with Roxane, the daughter of a native chieftain who had gallantly
defended against the Macedonians a mountain fastness called the Sogdian
Rock. It had never been noted in the career of the youthful conqueror
that he was susceptible to the influence of women. Hence this sudden
attachment was as unexpected as it was unpopular in the army. They
disliked to have their king ally himself with an alien, and their lack
of sympathy was accentuated because Alexander chose to marry his bride
after the fashion of her country.

The influence of the Oriental environment was seen also in the
introduction of Persian court ceremonial. The king desired to make the
custom of obeisance to royalty used by the Persians applicable also
to the Greeks. Callisthenes, a nephew of Aristotle, who was attached
to the army as official historiographer of the campaign, earned
Alexander’s resentment because he sturdily refused to adopt the Persian
ceremonial in the king’s presence. He was soon afterwards charged with
being involved in a plot to murder Alexander, which originated because
of the resentment held against the king by the royal pages, when one
of their number, Hermolaus, was flogged and reduced from his position
for a breach of etiquette in a boar hunt at which Alexander was
present. Callisthenes, apparently because he was an intimate friend of
Hermolaus and therefore assumed to be an accomplice in the plot, was
hanged.

Three years had now passed since the death of Darius; Alexander had
done in the interior of Asia a work which no western conqueror has
accomplished since on so large a scale. Even to-day the effective
occupation by Russia of the lands once included in the Persian
Empire falls short of Alexander’s achievement, because Afghanistan,
included in his conquests, is still an autonomous state. It will have
been already noticed that much attention had to be given while the
Macedonian army was in these Far Eastern provinces, to their protection
against the nomad tribes on their frontiers. These operations in
Bactria and Sogdiana were a necessary part of the conquests of Persia,
since these remote provinces acted as a barrier against the savage
tribes of the central Asiatic steppes, who might at any time by joint
action overrun the civilization of the regions south of them. The
special care shown by Alexander in the construction of settlements
in this region is an evidence of his desire to make them centers of
civilizing influence by which the restless herdsmen might be trained to
orderly methods of life. The experiment failed, but it was a brilliant
vision--a vision which might have become a reality if the conqueror had
lived the normal span of years.

The beating down of all opposition in the enormously extensive
empire which the defeat of Darius had laid at his feet had now been
accomplished. If Alexander had been a statesman and nothing else, he
would have stayed his hand, because the consolidation of the territory
he had overrun was a work demanding the time and the talents of the
greatest genius. But Alexander had not the temper of a Roman proconsul,
capable and zealous to solve large political problems. He was young
enough to be influenced by the spirit of adventure, and unlike Cæsar
and Napoleon, had sometimes no deeply laid scheme in his military
exploits.

There was no political or military necessity summoning Alexander
to the conquest of India, but there was the irresistible charm of
novelty exerted by the unknown, the ambition to penetrate into
regions untrodden before by any Greek, and with this feeling of the
conqueror the modern world is able to sympathize. He was lured also by
the legendary stories of the visits to India of the god Dionysus and
the hero Herakles. The mystical, superstitious traits in Alexander’s
character could easily be stimulated, as we have already seen, to
emulation with the divinities of his people, and he was also glad to
afford proof that he could effect a conquest attempted without success
by Cyrus and Semiramis.

The actual military difficulties of the undertaking were not great,
for though the Indians were brave and warlike, and though they had a
well-populated land to draw from, they were not a national unity. As
the Indian states were constantly at war with one another, there would
be an opportunity of securing allies in the peninsula. There was no
difficulty in securing recruits for the expedition, although it is true
a large detachment of the army had well-understood motives for desiring
to be left in Bactria; but some of the best Asiatic warriors from these
regions were enrolled, 30,000 in number, and the levies with which
Alexander now prepared to descend on India were certainly twice as
great as those with which he had left Macedon seven years before. His
army was now a great cosmopolitan community, an organism resembling the
mercenary armies of the Middle Ages, in the times of the Condottieri.
It was self-supporting and self-sufficient in more senses than one, for
it included artisans, engineers, physicians, diviners, literary men,
athletes, secretaries, clerks, musicians, as well as a host of women
and slaves.

Most of the states in northern India at this time were inhabited by
what is often called an Aryan stock, the descendants of a succession
of waves of emigration through the northwestern hills from central
Asia. They had given up their nomadic life and reached the agricultural
stage. The Brahman caste system, with its asceticism, and with its
power of directive guidance in the state, according to the dictates of
a religious sect, already dominated the life of India, and the country
as a whole was made up of small principalities and village communities
with no common bond of union.

Alexander effected his entrance into this new world by marching from
Nicæa (probably to be identified with Cabul) along the Cabul river and
then proceeded through the now well-known Khyber Pass. For the purpose
of securing his communications much time had to be spent in warfare
with the brave inhabitants of the Himalaya Mountains. Many fortresses
were taken, the most remarkable of these exploits being the capture of
the rock of Aormas, which probably lies on the right bank of the Indus,
some sixty miles above the junction of that river with the Cabul. The
two tribes whose resistance gave the most trouble were the Aspasians
and the Assacenes, dwelling in localities which can now be identified
as being parts of Chitral in the Pangkan and Swat valleys.

This hard preliminary campaign lasted all the winter; in the spring
the Indus was crossed and a three days’ march was made eastward to
Taxila, a rich country, whose prince, along with lesser princes, gave
a friendly welcome to the conqueror. But this friendly attitude was
not taken by Porus, the ruler of the region farther south, who sent a
formal defiance to Alexander, and prepared to resist the invaders by
collecting an army of from thirty to forty thousand men. With this he
encamped on the river Hydaspes and prepared to contest its passage.
Alexander transported the boats, which he had constructed for crossing
the Indus, to the Hydaspes, and took up a position on the right bank
of the stream, near Jalalpur, in view of the army of Porus, who had
collected a large number of elephants, a formidable obstacle to the
effective use of the Greek cavalry. (326 B.C.)

In the face of an enemy so placed the transit of the river was
impossible, for the edge of the stream was slimy, making an insecure
footing for the soldiers, and the horses, terrified by the presence
of the elephants, could not be kept in control and would certainly be
lost. Besides, Porus kept a sharp eye on all the fords near his camping
ground. Alexander kept the enemy busy by making various feints as if
he were about to attempt to pass the stream. It was the rainy season,
and the Indian soldiers and elephants were kept in battle array at the
threatened points, exposed for hours to the force of the wind and rain.
Porus began to think that the Greeks were afraid to force the passage,
and these manœuvers were continued until he was off his guard.

Some sixteen miles below the Greek encampment, where the river made
a bend, there was a wooded island which hid the right shore from
observation. Taking advantage of this, and also of the fact that on his
side of the river there was a thick forest, Alexander managed to bring
his boats, which were made of skins, to a place opposite the island,
and at the same time he marched some of his troops down the stream,
leading them by a detour some distance from the bank, in order to
prevent the enemy from detecting his operations. The rest of the Greeks
were left at the original camping ground or were posted along the river
at different points, with directions to cross and aid him at the proper
moment.

The actual crossing of the division under his command was done under
his own eyes. Regiments of heavy-armed men were left on the right
bank in anticipation of a possible rear attack by Abisares, prince of
Cashmir, who, it was known, had promised to assist Porus in resisting
the invading army. The passage was facilitated by the stormy weather
which prevailed during the night. The Indian outposts heard nothing,
and Alexander led the way safely past the island to the opposite shore,
where, though some difficulty was caused by mistaking an islet for the
mainland, the cavalry were disembarked and put in battle array. The
whole number of troops under Alexander’s command were 6000 hypaspists,
4000 light-armed foot, 5000 cavalry, including 1000 Scythian archers.
In the meantime the Indian outposts had ridden away to announce to
Porus what had happened and to prepare him for the news of the Greek
advance. Alexander went swiftly forward, taking with him all the
cavalry, and he soon met and defeated a detachment of 1000 Indian
horsemen and 160 chariots under the command of the son of Porus.

The Indian king himself was advancing with the bulk of his army, and he
drew up his line of battle as soon as he found a piece of sandy ground
suitable for displaying the cavalry and elephants. In front he placed
200 elephants at intervals of 100 feet, and behind them his infantry
to the number of 20,000. In the wings his cavalry were drawn up, about
4000 in all. Alexander placed the pick of his army, the hypaspists,
immediately in front of the elephants. The use of these animals in
battle was still a strange sight to the Greeks, and the Indian fighting
line seemed to them like a city wall with towers. Porus did not think
that his foes would venture to advance through the spaces left between
the elephants. He argued that the horses would be terror-stricken and
the foot would be met by the Indian foot soldiers if they tried to
attack the elephants from the side, and that they would hesitate to
move directly against them for fear of being trodden down by their
onslaught.

Exactly how the Indian infantry were armed is left uncertain. They
probably had not the solidity of the Greek phalanx and were depended
upon only to cover the work of the elephants. Alexander kept his
infantry in reserve until he was able to confuse the line of the enemy
by a cavalry attack. His cavalry he directed to spread out and attack
not only in front but on the flanks as well. This manœuver was executed
with practised precision, and neither the Indian chariots nor their
horse could withstand the furious onslaught of the Greek squadrons,
and soon retired behind the elephants with the Macedonians in close
pursuit. As the elephants wheeled round, passing through the infantry
in order to meet the Macedonians, the quick advance was blocked; the
horses could not be induced to charge. They were obliged to retire;
then Porus, on his side, vigorously attacked both the Macedonian
cavalry and the phalanx.

The fight was now a general one. The Greek authorities paint this stage
of the battle in superlative diction, describing how the elephants
pressed through the thickly packed masses in front of them, rending and
trampling the soldiers and horses as they went, while the engines on
their backs scattered destruction far and wide. But the Macedonians
finally won by striking down the elephants’ drivers and destroying the
turrets they were in, and so wounded the beasts themselves that they
ceased to attack. With the elephants rendered useless, the chance of
victory for the Indians was gone. Their infantry was not sufficiently
disciplined to make any use of the confusion caused in the Greek ranks
by the work of the elephants. Besides, the Macedonian cavalry had in
the first stage of the engagement got so far into the Indian lines,
that they remained not only on the field of battle, but actually were,
as the engagement advanced, behind both the enemy’s infantry and the
elephants as well. When the Indian cavalry tried to take a hand in
the fight and leave the part of the field where the elephants were in
action, the Greek horse, having a superiority in numbers, forced them
back.

The Greek infantry phalanx had been ordered by Alexander to keep its
ground, but when the cavalry fight made it impossible for the Indians
to move forward, the Greek foot soldiers drew away from their first
position, where they were liable to a frontal attack by the elephants,
and driving the elephants back, exposed the enemy to an attack by the
Macedonian horse. Unprotected as the Indians were on both sides, they
could not escape defeat, and at this point of the battle they suffered
severely; most of the elephants and King Porus himself were taken
prisoners.

The Greek historian, Arrian, says that the Macedonian loss was only 310
dead, mostly horsemen; but as other authorities add 700 foot soldiers,
it seems likely that the battle was a stubborn one, for there were
only 11,000 men engaged in Alexander’s army. The fact, too, that the
use of elephants became customary in the wars fought by Alexander’s
successors, some of whom were present at the battle of Hydaspes,
proves that the fight with Porus must have made an impression on his
opponents, and this places it in a different category from the easier
victories over the Persians. Alexander treated his defeated antagonist
with magnanimity and erected his kingdom into a vassal state; but
as safeguards of his loyalty, directed that two garrison cities,
Bucephala and Nicæa, should be established in his domains, one on
either side of the Hydaspes near the site of the battle. A lieutenant,
Crateros, was left to carry out these building plans, while Alexander
turned to the conquest of the neighboring tribes. The only notable
difficulty was the taking of the town of Sangala, the chief citadel of
the free and warlike Cathæans, which had been strongly fortified and
which had to be taken by storm.

The general result was that the Punjab was annexed to Alexander’s
empire and placed in the hands of vassal princes. From this region
the Greek army advanced to the river Hyphasis, reaching it at a point
higher up than its junction with the Sutlej. This was the extreme limit
of Alexander’s march. He would have gladly gone farther, for the whole
of India might well have become a subject state; but the army had
suffered from the discomforts of the rainy season, and they were weary
of campaigning. The horses were worn out, the armor and accoutrements
in bad condition. The temper of the troops, devoted though they were
to their commander, left no doubt that they would mutiny if Alexander
refused to turn back. He told the officers he would go on himself, and
that they could return to Macedonia and let the Macedonians know that
they had abandoned their king in a hostile land.

But appeals and threats alike failed to convince the army that their
view of the situation was unreasonable. The sacrifices were found to be
unfavorable, and persuaded by this intimation of the disfavor of the
gods, the king consented to return. On the bank of the Hyphasis twelve
altars were erected of large size, as lofty as the walls of a city, to
mark the limits of Macedonian conquests, and as a thank-offering to the
gods for their protection through the hazards of long-continued warfare
in strange lands. The army then retired to the Hydaspes.

Alexander was an explorer as well as a conqueror, and his
disappointment at this enforced withdrawal from the prosecution of his
march must have been that of a man who was within reach of the goal and
just failed to attain it. According to the geographical notions of his
day, he was near the certain limit of the world; he knew nothing of the
great Indian peninsula, and of course nothing of the vast extent of
Siberia or the Chinese Empire. He supposed that the Ganges flowed into
an eastern sea which was continuous with the Caspian and which washed
the shores of Scythia and the base of the high mountains he had lately
passed through. On the river Hydaspes, a fleet had already been under
construction; as soon as it was ready he embarked on it a part of his
best troops, while the mass of the army, in two divisions, moved down
the stream. The route followed was along the Hydaspes to its confluence
with the Akesines, then down this stream to the Indus and the Indus
itself to the Delta.

From the military point of view, this concluding stage of the Indian
expedition offers little of special interest. The inhabitants of the
country either submitted to or fled from the Greek army, and various
strongholds were taken by storm. In an assault on one of them, held
by the Malians, who dwelt in the southern Punjab, the king, who had
pressed forward in the midst of the enemy, found himself separated
from the main body of his followers and was dangerously wounded. In
the region the army traversed several colonies were founded; another
Alexandria rose at the point where the Akesines flows into the Indus,
and at Pattala a harbor and navy yard were built. The conquered portion
of India was organized in three satrapies, one of which was under
Porus, who had a free position as a vassal prince, for in his territory
there were no Macedonian garrisons.

But the real subjugation of the country had not been effected by the
spectacular march through it; as soon as the Greeks turned their backs,
an uprising took place. Before the whole army reached Pattala, a part
had been detached with directions to march west to Arachosia, and to
wait in Caramania till it was joined there by the main division. The
fleet was placed under the command of Nearchus, a Cretan, who was
to take it along the coast of the Indian Ocean and finally into the
Persian Gulf. Alexander, at the head of the rest of the army, took the
road through Gedrosia.

The difficulties of the return were considerable. The men under
Alexander suffered terribly in passing a desert country before they
reached, after sixty days’ slow progress, the capital of Gedrosia,
Pura. In the farther stretch to Caramania there was also exhausting
work, but these trials marked the end of the expedition, for Crateros,
who had led the rest of the troops by Arachosia, soon arrived, and news
came of the landing of the fleet after a skilfully managed cruise of
seventy-five days through unknown waters on the coasts of Caramania. A
year had now passed (325 B.C.) since the beginning of the return home
from India. During the course of the winter the army returned to Susa,
thus concluding this remarkable adventure of Far Eastern conquest.




V ALEXANDER’S EMPIRE


It had now been five years, from the summer of 330, since Alexander
had left Ecbatana in pursuit of Darius. His presence was urgently
needed, for the government of the empire was in chaotic state so far
as the central administration was concerned. Fortunately the attempts
at an uprising had generally been feeble, and were easily and loyally
suppressed by the satraps where they did occur. Only one gave trouble,
a revolt in Bactria, initiated first of all by Greek mercenaries and
taken up by the native inhabitants as far as the border of Scythia.
This lasted some time, and peace was not restored until after
Alexander’s death.

But the maladministration of the conquered provinces was more serious
than these uprisings. During Alexander’s absence in the Far East there
had been boundless liberty in the financial plundering of the people.
Peculation was the rule everywhere, and it was common to the Persian
official class, to whom the government of the satrapies had been
intrusted. Trained as these officers had been in maladministration and
corruption, they had no notion of following different standards, simply
because there was a different ruler. While Alexander was in Bactria he
had been forced to deprive several satraps of their governments. It was
time for the strong arm of the king to be felt, and there was no doubt
about his intentions and aims. Many Persian satraps were executed and
their places taken by Macedonian officers. But while Alexander had been
away the infection had spread to European office-holders, both military
and civil. We hear, for example, of the death penalty being inflicted
on Greek commanders of the troops in Media, who had plundered graves
and temples and had signalized their rule over the subject population
by systemic oppression.

Among the guiltiest of this class was the minister of finance,
Harpalus, who treated the state’s money as his private property, had
brought over from Athens a company of gay comrades, and was living the
easy, reckless life of an Oriental satrap. His previous record had been
anything but clean; before the battle of Issus he had been obliged to
return to Greece and had only come back to Asia because he had received
the royal pardon. He knew that there was no chance of finding the king
amenable to excuses or explanations; so with 5000 talents taken from
the treasury, he raised a body of 6000 mercenaries and departed for
the sea coast, hoping to stir up a revolt. The scheme was a pitiable
failure; no satrap held out a hand to him; and finally Harpalus sailed
to Athens, where he had influence and could count on a welcome, because
of the strong anti-Macedonian feeling in the city.

Alexander showed his appreciation of the lesson of Harpalus’ official
career by ordering the governors of the provinces to dismiss all
soldiers they had collected on their own authority. Now that the
period of military expansion was closed, the king devoted himself to
the organization of the empire, following the lines he had worked out
originally, which tended to the amalgamation of the Greek and Persian
elements. This ideal survived the experience of maladministration,
and Alexander held fast to it, despite the opposition of the officers
of his army. He seems to have believed firmly in the possibility of
educating politically the Asiatic peoples so that they could be ruled
without display of despotic power, and he was just as firm in trusting
to the loyalty of the Persian ruling class to carry out this program
of interracial conciliation. In doing so he failed to take account of
the Persian’s deep-rooted dislike of the Greeks, which with Oriental
wiliness his new subjects could conceal, but which was ever present as
an inducement to them to take advantage of the first opportunity that
offered to throw off the yoke imposed upon them by the conquest.

Alexander planned to make his scheme a success by marrying the
daughters of the Persian official class to the Macedonian officers. He
led the way by claiming, as the successor of the Great King, the right
to have more than one legitimate wife, and after his return from India
he added to his royal household a daughter of Darius, Stateira, and a
daughter of Ochus, Parysatis. Alexander’s close friend, Hephæstion,
received another daughter of Darius, and altogether eighty of the high
officers in command of the Macedonian army were married to Persian
women of high degree. The wedding festivities were made a national
affair, and took place at Susa on the same day with great ceremonial,
all the brides receiving from Alexander marriage portions. The
Macedonian private soldiers, who followed the example of their chief on
this occasion, were richly rewarded.

It is said that the officers were as dissatisfied with the matrimonial
schemes of the king as they had been with his plans for further
conquest in India; in any case, it is known that on the king’s death
there was a general movement among them to get rid of their Persian
helpmates. The discontent among the rank and file of Alexander’s
followers with his program of social equality between Greek and Persian
could not be appeased, even when he paid their debts at the time of the
“Union of the Two Races” festival, an act of bounty which cost him
about $5,000,000. The hostility to Persian influence was accentuated by
the introduction of foreign troops into the army. This was naturally a
step required by the necessity of raising a force greater than Greece
could possibly supply. That thinly populated country must have been
already drained to the point of exhaustion by the demands already made
upon it to fill up the losses during the years of constant campaigning.
And as a matter of fact, we know that a year and a half after the
passage of the Hellespont with 35,000 men, Alexander led to battle at
Arbela about 60,000, and in the years during which the expedition was
moving in the Far East, the various additional troops must have equaled
altogether 50,000 men. The substitution of Persian contingents for
Greek soldiers was a matter of plain necessity. They received lower
pay, they cost less to feed, without considering the saving made in the
high cost of transportation of bodies of men from continental Greece to
the interior of Asia.

Orders had therefore been given to draw 30,000 young men from the
conquered provinces and to prepare them for military services according
to Macedonian methods. A further and more radical stage in the
amalgamation policy was reached when Persians were enrolled in the
Macedonian phalanx and Asiatic horsemen in the élite regiment of the
Hetæroi; even in the life guards distinguished Persians were received,
and the command of that force was assigned to a warrior from Bactria,
Hystaspes.

These leveling measures were more than the Macedonian veterans could
endure, and they became openly mutinous when Alexander proposed to
dismiss those who had been longest in the service. The whole army stood
together and told the king that they would serve no longer, and that he
would see how he could do without them, now that he had his Persians
to serve under him. Alexander then set to work to organize purely
Persian regiments on the Macedonian model, a Persian life guard, a
Persian squadron of Hetæroi, and a Persian phalanx. This satisfied the
Macedonians, and they were farther placated by being given precedence
over the various Persian units of the army. Under these conditions,
the veterans were willing to be dismissed, and they received one
talent as a bonus and full pay until they were actually on Macedonian
soil. Moreover, the king agreed to provide for the education of their
children. Ten thousand men on these terms returned to Greece.

A more effective means for bringing together the two races on an equal
footing was the establishment of military colonies throughout the
empire. At an early stage of the expedition this had been adopted as
the readiest way of keeping peace in the conquered territory. Tyre
and Gaza, after the native population had been sold into slavery,
received a new population of Greek origin. We have already noted the
extension of this scheme in the Far Eastern provinces and in India.
Altogether seventy cities are said to have been founded by Alexander.
These colonies, though primarily intended for military purposes, became
centers of industrial communication and of civilization. The case of
the Egyptian Alexandria is so well known that it does not require to
be stressed. Less familiar are the proofs of Alexander’s sagacity as a
founder of flourishing towns in other parts of his empire. Alexandria,
on the Persian Gulf, continued through the whole period of antiquity to
be the greatest emporium of the whole region of Mesopotamia. Alexandria
in Arcia (Herat) and Alexandria in Arachosia (Candahar) are still
to-day important towns in Persia.

Despite his absorption in military interests, Alexander found time
for looking after the economic development of his empire. The Indian
Ocean was opened to commerce by the remarkable voyage of Nearchus which
concluded the Indian expedition. Attempts were made to circumnavigate
the Arabian peninsula, and, though they failed, yet a considerable
portion of the coast was explored. The Caspian Sea was also the scene
of exploring adventures, because it was supposed to be a part of the
vast ocean by which the earth was surrounded. The Tigris was freed
from obstruction and made navigable; the ancient irrigation canals in
Babylonia were restored; and a beginning was made in constructing a
harbor near Babylon.

Equally farsighted was Alexander’s foundation of a unified monetary
system for the empire. Under Persian rule the custom had been for the
satraps to coin silver money, while the coinage of gold was reserved
to the Great King. The result was that each province followed its own
customs and financial chaos prevailed. Alexander reserved the minting
privilege to the general government; even where provincial coining was
permitted, the coins were of the same general type and bore the name of
the king. The only exception to this rule is found in the case of the
autonomous Greek cities on the western coast of Asia. This new monetary
system was based on that of the Athenians; the bimetallic basis, as
it had existed in the Persian Empire, was abandoned and the silver
standard, as used at Athens and Corinth, took its place. The reformed
monetary system of Alexander continued down to Roman times.

The large hoards of precious metals, which fell into Alexander’s hands
during the course of his conquests, not only gave occupation to his
mints, but also freed him from financial anxiety. He had begun the
expedition in a state of insolvency, for he had a debt of 1300 talents
with only seventy in his war chest to cover it. The maintenance of the
army required a monthly expenditure of 200 talents, and to this 100
talents had to be added for the fleet. The provinces in western Asia,
the first fruits of his victories, could not supply a sum so large, and
it was lack of money which caused Alexander to give up his fleet in
the autumn of 334. After the battle of Issus and the conquest of the
rich province of Egypt, there was soon a surplus where there had been a
deficit, and Alexander was able to send considerable sums of money to
Antipater to help him out in his campaign in Greece.

Rich as were the Persian treasures, they were heavily and constantly
drawn upon by the ever-developing military needs of the conqueror.
The whole force under arms, including the very numerous garrisons,
must have equaled 100,000 men. This meant at least an expense of
7000 talents; to this large sum must be added the drains caused
by Alexander’s generosity, by official peculation such as that of
Harpalus, and by the gifts to old soldiers, who were richly rewarded.
The royal household, which was organized on the Persian model, was most
expensive; the royal table alone costing 600 talents. Of course, the
receipts were large, probably from fifteen to twenty thousand talents
annually, but Alexandria’s budget was far from balancing; and at the
time of his death, there were contained in all the treasuries of the
empire only 50,000 talents, about $70,000,000, a small sum when the
size of the empire is taken into account.

In administering his domains, Alexander showed great conservatism; he
made few changes, he allowed each of the countries which acknowledged
the Great King as its overlord to retain its particular institutions.
One important modification he did introduce into the loosely organized
and haphazard Persian system of rule, the division of power. The
Persian satrap was generally the sole governor, having in his hands the
civil, military, and financial administration. Alexander limited him to
matters of internal administration, appointing a financial officer and
a military commander armed with considerable powers. After the return
from India, there was a further innovation made by the appointment of
a Chiliarch, as the supreme director and head of the provinces, with
a place immediately after the monarch himself. This official was a
part of the governmental machinery of the Persian Empire, holding in
it the place of a Grand Vizier. It was given to Alexander’s friend,
Hephæstion, but after his death it was left vacant. The most trusted
servant, the actual head of the administration, was the Chief Secretary
Eumenes from Cardia, a man of first-rate military and civil capacity;
he was unfailingly loyal to his master, and after Alexander’s death,
suffered many vicissitudes because of his devotion to the Macedonian
royal house.

Alexander was not satisfied with the rôle of conqueror; he wished to
give his rule in the East that trait of legitimacy which the popular
Oriental mind required as a stimulus to its loyalty. It was impossible
for him to be King of Persia by the grace of God, for it was the might
of his own hand, not the right of succession, that constituted him the
heir of Darius. This Gordian knot of politics he solved in his own
direct fashion by directing that divine honors should be paid to him
by the subject populations. The custom of apotheosis originated in
Egypt, but it was not alien to Greek thought, according to which no
deep distinction existed between man and divinity. The mythical heroes
of the Greek people, whom all allowed to have once been men, were
everywhere honored with altars and sacrifice. Asclepius and Herakles
sat on Olympus with the greater divinities of a purely spiritual
origin. It had become not unusual in the age preceding Alexander
to accord divine honors to the living. Such had been the case with
Clearchus of Heracleia who had been greeted as the son of Zeus, and
with Dionysius the Younger who had caused himself to be honored at
Syracuse as the son of Apollo. Alexander’s achievements, far greater in
comparison, gave him a right to this distinction during his lifetime;
his divine origin had, besides, been attested by the Erythrian Sibyl
and by the oracle at Branchidæ; with this theological and official
stamp all that remained to be done was to give the accepted belief a
concrete form. The cult of the conqueror became a part of the state
religion in the Greek communities throughout the empire. Whether
Alexander took the initiative in this form of adulation we do not know;
he certainly did not discourage it, and on his return from India he
did not reject the adulatory form of congratulation expressed by many
Greek states, who instead of sending formal deputations, presented
the so-called “theories” usual when the festivals of the gods were
celebrated. Athens at first resisted this form of transcendent
courtesy, but finally, in order to avoid offending Alexander, it was
resolved in the year 324 to enrol the conqueror among the gods of
the city under the designation of Dionysus. So this debasing custom
took root in Greece; the monarch became, by a noxious fiction,
differentiated from the rest of mortals, and the infection spread
from Greece to Rome, and later on became crystallized in Christian
civilization, through the example of the Byzantine court, and under the
form of monarchy by divine right has not yet disappeared.

After the dismissal of the veterans from the army at Opis, Alexander
withdrew from the plains of the Tigris, and according to the custom of
the Persian monarchs spent the summer in the highlands of Media. He
passed the time in relaxation; nautical and athletic festivals were
held, in which celebrities from Greece took part. When the cooler
weather began, there were expeditions to repress the bandit hill-tribes
who dwelt between Ecbatana and Susa, people whom the Persians had never
succeeded in bringing under control. Afterwards, the king returned
to Babylon, where he received deputations from the Greek states and
even from Italy. It was thought that an expedition to the west was
being planned. But the king preferred to give his immediate attention
to Arabia and, by conquering it, to open at last a direct road of
communication between the interior of Persia and Egypt.

By June both the fleet and army were ready to start. A great banquet
was given in honor of Nearchus, the admiral who was to undertake the
adventurous voyage from the Persian Gulf to the Red Sea. The king
withdrew from the feast and spent the rest of the night in a carouse
with a friend, Medius. He rose late in the morning and another night
was spent in excessive drinking. The following day he was attacked with
fever; he could not walk and had to be carried on a couch to the altar,
to make the customary sacrifices. He spent the day discussing the plans
of the expedition with Nearchus. In the evening he had himself conveyed
across the river to a garden villa, hoping for relief from its quiet
isolation. But for six days the fever continued, the king being able
only to attend the sacrificial ceremonial. His condition grew worse,
and he was taken back to the palace; he slept a little, but the fever
did not abate, and when his officers visited him, they saw that he had
lost the power of speech. There was confusion among the soldiers, for
it was rumored that their leader was dead; they clamored to be let into
the palace, and passing by the bodyguard they circled past the bed
of the dying monarch; but he was not able to speak and only signified
by movements of his hands and eyes that he recognized them. Some of
those about him spent the night in the temple of Serapis, awaiting an
indication of the god that he might be transported to the temple as he
lay and be healed by divine help. But they were warned, it is said, by
a voice that he was not to be moved, and on the evening of June 13th he
died, before he had completed his thirty-third year.

During the years of Alexander’s conquests, the history of the Greek
states sinks into insignificance. After the battle of Issus all hope
of defeating Macedon by a combination with Persia was abandoned. The
confederacy sent congratulations, and only Sparta stood aloof. Its
king, Agis, even ventured to declare war, but, after a few small
successes, he was defeated in the battle of Megalopolis, losing his
life in the field. Sparta then sent hostages to Alexander and was
generously treated. Later on he interfered again in the affairs of
Greece by directing the confederation to take back the Greek exiles,
20,000 in number, and so mark his overlordship by an era of good
feeling. Only two states objected, Athens and Ætolia.

The only exciting incident in continental Greece was connected with
the flight of the faithless finance minister, Harpalus, who came to
the coast of Attica with 5000 talents, a body of mercenaries, and
a considerable fleet, hoping to stir up a revolt. But the Athenian
politicians were too cautious to be drawn into an intrigue which would
certainly have proved dangerous. They seized Harpalus and took his
treasure, proposing only to surrender this money to officers expressly
sent by Alexander. Half the money taken disappeared and there was no
official record made of the sum received. Demosthenes was involved
in the scandal, and he emerged from it with a besmirched reputation.
Harpalus escaped and was soon afterwards murdered. Demosthenes was
condemned, imprisoned, and escaped. But Greek feeling was not sensitive
about a case where it was plain that a man had appropriated stolen
money for the good of the state, and Demosthenes was praised as a
patriot.

Alexander’s conquests, both in method and in achievement, were but the
elaboration of the groundwork laid down by Philip his father. The army
that conquered Persia and invaded India was trained in the campaigns of
continental Greece, and without this preliminary training in Europe,
its spectacular successes in Asia would not have been possible. Up to
the time of Philip of Macedon, warfare in Greece had achieved only
negative results. It was not systematized, no extensive imperial rule
had come to the victors through any of the decisive battlefields, for
these military successes were never followed up by a consistent scheme
of conquest. Philip changed all this, and he brought his developed army
and his new political policy into close connection. Demosthenes himself
remarked this contrast, for he said that King Philip fought his wars
not only with a phalanx of heavy-armed men, but with light infantry,
archers, and cavalry.

The old campaigning schedule, which consisted in ravaging the enemy’s
territory for a few months, a set battle in the open country, and
a withdrawal to winter quarters, was no longer observed. If the
Macedonian king did not find his enemy in the field, he besieged his
towns, using siege engines to bring him to terms. Summer and winter
were alike used for operations when the old array of citizen amateur
soldiers had given place to the professional fighters. Alexander’s
victories were won not only on the battlefield, but through the quick
following up of his victories; the enemies’ power of resistance was
annihilated by the rapidity with which a defeated army was pursued and
never allowed a chance to gather itself together again after it was
beaten. These cavalry marches in the rear of a retreating enemy, or the
suddenly delivered attacks on a foe preparing to resist, attacks made
irrespective of mountains and deserts, were as military achievements no
less remarkable than the set battles and the sieges of strongly walled
cities and citadels. Supremely characteristic of Alexander’s strategy
was the pursuit after the battle of Gaugamela, when numbers of horses
fell on the road from exhaustion.

As a general, Alexander did great deeds and did them in an heroic
style. He was a warrior distinguished by personal bravery, filled with
the ardor of combat, eager to be in the thickest of the fight, and
yet the physical passion of the fighter in no way dulled the acute
intelligence of the general, or made him indifferent to the mastery of
details in preparing for battle or in following a victory up after it
had been won. He showed strategical knowledge in approaching the enemy
and knew how to overcome the natural difficulties in his way. So we
see him unhesitatingly marching through narrow defiles and organizing
different classes of troops according to the changing conditions which
confronted him. He showed high capacity in selecting his base, in
looking after his communications, in providing for and provisioning his
men. When all was ready, and not before, these cautious provisions gave
place to the impetuous onslaught in battle and the untiring pursuit
of the defeated enemy. But the duties of generalship, complicated as
they were, were not allowed to interfere with the “joy of fighting.”
Alexander in every fight led his cavalry in person; whenever a breach
was made in a fortification he was in the first rank; whenever a town
was taken he was the first to scale the wall.

He seemed instinctively to have taken in the significance of the
enlarged scale on which warfare under him was conducted. He had
to solve untried problems, due to the vast extent of territory he
traversed, so different in every way from the restricted limits of
continental Greece. The students of strategy have especially admired
his originality in the systematic following up of a victory, an element
in successful warfare not dreamed of by the citizen generals of Greece.
In the Peloponnesian war it never occurred to the Spartans when they
had defeated the Athenians to besiege Athens. But after Issus, a most
decisive victory, Alexander showed the utmost resourcefulness in the
long seven months’ siege of Tyre, and finally took it by storm. The
same mobility of generalship is noted in India, where he did not
hesitate in the face of a division of elephants, an unknown arm in
warfare, to cross a river and deliver a frontal attack.

The army, which never failed to respond to the ever-developing visions
and schemes of its commander, until he had carried it to the eastern
limits of the known world in his career of conquest, was at the very
beginning of Alexander’s career trained for any military project he
might propose. It was composed of seasoned officers and men, who
had proved their mettle and gained their laurels under Philip while
he was bringing his army to the highest pitch of excellence. In the
list of great Greek military leaders, Philip is placed by the side of
Epaminondas, the Theban, the man who revolutionized the Greek art of
warfare by a fine stroke of genius. It had been noted that in the Greek
battles, where the phalanx had become the controlling factor, its right
wing was frequently victorious in both opposing armies. This phenomenon
was simply due to the fact that the Greek heavy-armed soldier carried
a shield on his left arm and naturally tended to move in an oblique
direction towards the right hand. The chief innovations introduced by
Epaminondas were the strengthening of the left wing by increasing its
depth--it was made fifty men deep--and the holding back of the right
wing as the whole phalanx advanced in battle array. With the increased
depth of the phalanx, the front was necessarily shortened, and in order
to prevent flanking operations, Epaminondas made great use of cavalry,
in protecting the flanks of his men from an encircling movement on
the part of the enemy, whose phalanx, since it was not so deep (being
the old shape), would stretch out on both sides beyond the lines of
the Theban line. As a general, Philip accepted these new tactical
principles originated by Epaminondas, and applying them to Macedonian
conditions, made of the Macedonian army a wonderfully effective
military machine.

Macedonia was peopled by peasants and herdsmen, and up to Philip’s time
they were an untrained mass, insufficiently armed, not able to contend
with the armies of the rest of Greece. There was a landed aristocracy
in Macedon, forming a special warrior class, who fought as cavalry.
Using these elements and adding to them Greek mercenaries, King Philip
had created a military force far superior to any that Greece had ever
seen before.

The Greek cavalry moved in loose formation, the horsemen wore armor,
and as arms they had a shield, sword, and spear, the spear being used
rather for throwing than for striking, as is the case with the modern
lance, with the whole momentum of the moving mass, man and horse.
The troops of the Macedonian cavalry, formed of the nobles of the
land, were called the followers of the king, “Hetairoi.” They bore a
shield and a spear for casting or thrusting, and a sword, and were
always given a crucial position in an engagement. As contrasted with
Greek cavalry generally, the Macedonians showed superior training
and discipline; they moved together and behaved in a fight, not as
individual warriors, but as tactical units, and were controlled in
their movements by a single will. Such development of cavalry was
unfamiliar to the Greek republics, which confined themselves to the
technical training of the phalanx.

The Macedonian foot were the special creation of Philip, and were
named by him “the followers on foot.” They fought in the ordinary
phalanx formation, but closer together than was usual, and used long
spears, so that several lines were enabled at once to engage in actual
hand-to-hand fighting. The spear was so constructed as to weight,
thickness, and length that it could reach the opposing line and yet
be firmly grasped. The ordinary spear was somewhat over six feet in
length, but the Macedonian phalanx depended for its success not so much
on man-to-man fighting as on the irresistible impact of the whole. When
it was acting on the defensive, it was virtually impenetrable. Its
disadvantage was in its lack of individual initiative; the soldiers
were machines rather than fighting men. It was heavy in its movements
and could be thrown into disorder more easily than the older Greek
phalanx with its looser formation. The élite corps, the hypaspists,
were more lightly armed than the men in the phalanx, and so moved more
freely. In Alexander’s battles they were the connecting link between
the cavalry and heavy mass of the phalanx, which advanced slowly
forward. As managed by Alexander, these various arms seem to have
worked admirably together, all sharing in the activity of a general
offensive movement. It should be added that Alexander was also indebted
to his father for much of the advance made in the art of besieging. He
constantly used siege engines, and we have noticed how much he depended
on their successful employment at Tyre and Halicarnassus.

Posterity has justly selected the epithet “great” as most fitting
to be coupled with Alexander’s name, and he has this honor for more
than one reason. It is perhaps less contested than in the case of
any other of the world’s leading personalities, Charles the Great
alone excepted, for Charles, like Alexander, introduced a new age of
the world’s history. Great as were the successes of Alexander, they
constitute less of a claim on the personal admiration of posterity than
his knightly qualities as a warrior, and the charm and impetuosity of
youth. His great victories were won between the years of twenty-one and
twenty-five. In the space of thirteen years there are crowded together
events and achievements that would exalt the longest life of the
greatest man.

His sudden and premature death did him a kind of poetic justice,
because his temperament cannot be coupled consistently with the
characteristics of old age or even with the middle period of man’s
life. His body and his brain had been under a tremendous pressure,
which even a strong constitution could not resist. It was this restive
youthfulness that spurred him on to adventures which were purposeless
when looked at from the point of view of the mature statesman, such
as the expedition to India, an uncalculated move not to be understood
except as due to the stimulus of an explorer’s curiosity and the desire
to accomplish a feat unheard of before.

The impulsiveness and emotionalism of Alexander in combination with his
military genius produced results unprecedented in history. His career
is that of a Homeric hero on a larger stage. It is not surprising that
his conquests almost defy criticism and make a personal estimate seem
artificial. He did so much that it apparently makes little difference
what he was, for his actions speak for themselves, and they tell
their tale like a fairy story, without any need of analysis. It is
obviously unfair to look for constructive statesmanship in a career so
short, when almost every month was occupied with military campaigns
either planned or in execution. When his life was ended, Alexander was
still a young man with a fresh and vigorous intelligence, open to new
impressions. It is hazardous to infer (as Grote does) that he would
have spent his life in acts of military aggression or that he would
have sunk to the position of an Oriental despot, little differing from
the Persian kings to whose title he succeeded. It is safer to put aside
these pessimistic historic prognostics of what might have been, and to
recognize that Alexander, provided he kept his mental powers undulled
by drink, would have remained a Greek and not become a Hun or a Vandal.

His enthusiasm for absolutism was, when one considers his age and
how deeply he was involved in military plans and schemes, less of a
reflection on himself than a curse to his followers and successors,
who kept faithful to the personal tradition of their leader and made
the Hellenization of Asia untrue to so much that was best in Greek
political life and thought. It was, as Ranke says, a break in their
whole national history, for the Greeks to have extended over them the
kind of authority which was in no way different from that against which
they had contended in warfare for a century. But it must be remembered
that Alexander had only just begun to rule over Asiatics; he had
receded before his death from pressing his theory of amalgamation to
its logical conclusion, and quick as he was to feel instinctively the
meaning of new conditions, it may be fairly supposed that he would have
come to recognize the value of Aristotle’s profoundly wise advice to
him, that he should behave to the Greeks as a leader or president and
to the barbarians or non-Greeks as a master.

We may put to one side all the ingenious speculations as to what might
have happened if Alexander had reached the ordinary limit of human
life, a line of thought which Livy seems to have originated, when he
tried to foretell for his age what would have happened if Alexander
had taken up the rôle followed later by his relative, Pyrrhus. It is
only necessary to say that, so far as Greek affairs were concerned,
Alexander was the son of his father. His public career began when, as
Philip’s son, he put the finishing touches to Philip’s program for
dominating the free states of Greece. So long as Alexander lived, the
lines of Macedonian supremacy, the outcome of the battle of Chæronea,
remained clear and fixed. The destruction of Thebes was but the
epilogue of Philip’s own career. The sentimental vein in the nature of
Alexander made him patient with the somewhat childish and ineffective
hostility shown him by both Athens and Sparta, venerable names as
protagonists in the secular struggle with the Persians, whose mantle
had now fallen on his broader shoulders.

In Asia his conquests, rather than his half-thought-out plans for
racial amalgamation, were decisive of future political development.
There was an expansion of Hellenic culture throughout the East, marked
by the common use of the Greek language and by a general absorption
of the special traits of Greek social usages and sympathies. The
civilization, so wrought out and transplanted, lost the creativeness
and the spontaneity of the small communities of continental Greece.
The Hellenic spirit lost its potency, if we may so phrase it, and in
the sphere of government especially exhibited disheartening symptoms
of selfishness and greed. Economically, the opening up of Asia meant
enlarged facilities for the commercial exploitation of a vast and
rich territory. It ushered in a period of great industrial fortunes,
it increased opportunities for communication both by land and sea, it
established higher standards of comfort and taste among populations
who had lived a crude, colorless, and isolated existence. On the basis
of Alexander’s conquests a grandiose cosmopolitanism was built up in
Asia which cast down tribal and racial boundaries and made it possible
for masses of plain people to gain a livelihood under tolerable
conditions.

       *       *       *       *       *

CÆSAR




I CÆSAR’S BEGINNINGS


The progress of an imperial power is obscure even when the foundations
of its greatness are associated with some great military leader or
lawgiver, but when one has to give a reason why some one political
community becomes the point of centripetal attraction, and gathers
about it, either by fear or devotion, the support of large masses of
mankind, the efforts of historical analysis are frustrated at almost
every point.

[Illustration: CÆSAR

(Naples, Museum.)]

The rise of the small town community on the Tiber, about whose name
there centered for nearly two thousand years the dread and the
reverence of the progressive nations of the world, is veiled in legend.
Why did not Palestrina, or Cori, or one of the numerous Etruscan
cities to the north, become the germ of a world-wide rule? Of course
the answer of the economist is that just because Rome is situated on
the Tiber, its position gave it possibilities of advancement denied
to the ordinary hill towns of Italy. This explanation may be taken
as sufficient only when one allows that the burghers of Rome set out
to accomplish what they did, not only because they were traders, but
because the imaginative and grandiose factors in commercial enterprise
must have worked in a singularly sensitive and highly organized social
medium.

If the rise of the republic of Rome is difficult to account for, even
more difficult is it to explain why such a community endowed with great
generals, great statesmen, and great patriots, found it impossible so
to modify their republican institutions that the manifest advantages of
a sane and well-balanced democracy might be retained unimpaired, and
might be extended at the same time to conquered races and nations. The
rigidity of Roman republican institutions led to grave and demoralizing
social disorders. The victories of Roman arms abroad were accompanied
by political degradation at home. It must have been felt as a shock
when a local government, admirably devised to promote civic virtues and
secure just administration, was found, just as soon as Rome got the
better of her numerous enemies, to be such a convenient protection for
misrule.

As early as the last twenty-five years of the second century before
Christ, the machinery of Roman government seems to have been recognized
as inadequate to perform its functions. Constitutional methods and
precedents were inadequate to solve the agrarian question, nor was
there in the state, as an organism, sufficient force either to check an
oligarchy of wealth or to impose restrictions on the personal ambitions
of successful military leaders such as Marius and Sulla. Some of the
fundamental principles of the Roman republican system were now treated
as legal fiction. There had been years of civil war, for not only had
Rome been attacked by groups of Italian towns associated with her
for several hundred years, but Roman citizens had been divided among
themselves in a way that would have been unthinkable in the period of
the Punic wars.

One would like to know the personal political convictions of the
opposing leaders, Marius and Sulla. The probability is that neither of
them looked much farther ahead than does a representative of “boss”
rule in America, who would be very much surprised if asked whether he
would like to see the principles of the political ring incorporated
frankly and definitely in the Constitution of the United States. It is
certain that after the death of Sulla, though personal rule had come
to an end, there was no effort made to prevent its re-emergence. The
question was rather--from what quarter it would emerge. The common
opinion was that the popular general, Pompeius, distinguished by his
victories in the East, would come to take the place left vacant by
Sulla’s death. He had none of the antipathetic personal qualities of
the late dictator, therefore he was regarded as a man of principle,
and accordingly, fitted to supply the personal element in Roman
administration which most people seem to have felt was needed.

But all these calculations were soon upset. Pompeius, rapidly elevated
to greatness along a smooth road of easy gradients, trusted to his
friends in Rome to overcome all the political obstacles in his way
there. While he was still acclaimed the great military champion of the
Roman Republic, he soon found himself face to face with a rival--a man
who set himself forward purposefully to revive the popular platform of
the Marian party.

Caius Julius Cæsar, born July 12, 100 B.C., had no natural affiliations
with the popular side of politics represented by Marius. So far as
descent was concerned, he was an aristocrat of the aristocrats,
belonging to an ancient patrician _gens_ which traced back its
legendary origin to a divine being--the goddess Venus. Of the early
years of Cæsar only a little is known; and that little is handed down
in the form of anecdotes the value of which lies in the incidental
light they throw on his travels in the eastern part of the Roman world.
It would be more interesting to know something of Cæsar’s education
than of his capture by pirates off the coast of Asia Minor--an accident
used by his ancient biographers to prove what everybody knows--that
he was a brave man even in the most hazardous circumstances. His
early years could not have been spent carelessly, for he acquired a
remarkably sound education. His literary tastes must have been the
result of long discipline. His manysidedness and intellectual facility
were fully recognized by his contemporaries. Even Cicero, who claimed
to have spent his youth as a model “grind,” tacitly allows that Cæsar’s
intellectual equipment was fully the equal of his own. The years of
study were a necessity as well as a diversion. It was not safe even for
a brilliant young man, while the truculent Sulla was dictator, to show
practical interest in home politics, especially if his sympathies were
with the Marian party.

And Cæsar was from the first a partisan of Marius. He was pledged
to this political faction by family ties as well as by personal
conviction. Marius’s wife was Cæsar’s aunt, and Cæsar himself had made
the alliance with the Marians closer by taking as his wife the daughter
of Cinna, one of the most active of Marius’s supporters. During the
Reign of Terror caused by the proscriptions of Sulla, Cæsar, because of
his relations with the democratic party, had with difficulty escaped
the dictator’s vengeance, and while Sulla continued to control the
Republic Cæsar found it prudent to withdraw into obscurity, from which
he only emerged when the revival of the democratic tradition could be
safely undertaken. Then he took the first opportunity that offered
itself to make a declaration of loyalty to Marius, the old leader of
the democracy. It was at the death of his aunt, Marius’s widow, that he
delivered a funeral address in which he praised Marius’s principles and
achievements. (68 B.C.) This challenge made to the dominant party by
the young politician was a bold stroke. His speech was the sensation of
the hour, and the glowing words which expressed his purpose of working
for the restoration of the Marian democracy won for him the warm
approval of the popular party. Not long after this Cæsar was chosen
to his first elective office, that of Ædile, in 65 B.C., a somewhat
irregular proceeding, for he was two years short of the legal age.
He used his term of service in order to increase his favor with the
democracy, and he showed a keen political scent in discovering ways
and means by which he could keep himself constantly in the foreground
as the champion of popular rights, earning a reputation for lavish
expenditure of money by giving public games, fairs, and gladiatorial
shows. It was not difficult at this time to win the favor of the
Roman democracy. Pompeius, who controlled the army and through his
position as commander-in-chief exerted a preponderating influence on
the government, was on the point of completing the destruction of the
upstart empire of Mithridates and bringing the Asiatic provinces with
firm hand again under the sway of Rome. There stood in Cæsar’s way as
a competitor for political honors only the second-rate personality of
Crassus, the richest man in Rome, who, somehow, despite his belief in
the venality of the populace and his readiness to act upon his belief,
seemed never to have struck the popular imagination powerfully enough
to acquire the momentum of the genuine demagogue.

Cæsar had great advantages through his family connections; his position
as the legitimate heir of Marius made him already a central figure in
the political life of the city, and even Crassus found it advisable
to work for him and with him, by advancing him large sums of money to
cover the lavish expenditure of the three years’ ædileship. Cæsar was
already looking beyond Rome and its purely local interests. That he
had no confidence in the kind of government under which he served is
shown by pretty clear intimations that he was aware of the existence
of a plot, intended to reduce the power of the senatorial oligarchy to
zero. It is certain, too, that Cæsar worked hard to secure a military
command in Egypt, which was not yet a Roman province and, therefore,
could furnish him an admirable vantage ground by its wealth and by
its strategical position for blocking the plans of Pompeius, who was
working through control of the senatorial oligarchy for a revival in
his own hands of personal rule after the Sullan model. This design
of Cæsar was a bold one and conceived with a large vision. Its aim
was to provide a stronghold for the democracy should the central
government, as seemed likely to happen, be manipulated by an irregular
dictatorship. The plan may have been suggested by the career of
Sertorius in Spain, where this successful opponent of the Sullan
régime had so long offered a refuge to all those who were enemies of
the oligarchy that ruled the capital. It was characteristic of Cæsar’s
confident temperament that he was willing, without previous military
training, to undertake a hazardous adventure that meant certainly a
conflict with the seasoned generals of the oligarchy.

A further indication, if any were needed, of the purpose of the new
leader of the democratic party to treat Pompeius as the danger point
on the horizon, was a proposed scheme of an agrarian legislation by
which a board was to be created with extensive military and judicial
power for the purpose of selling all the properties and territories
acquired by the state since the year 88, along with all of the war
booty and confiscated revenues now in the hands of Pompeius. To this
measure was added a clause intended to transform the bill into a
popular manifesto for the colonization of Italy with small landholders,
and therefore constructed on the lines of those earlier agrarian laws
which mark the commencement of the struggle of the Roman democracy with
the capitalistic oligarchy two generations before Cæsar’s time. This
agrarian legislation was defeated by Cicero, who in this case, as often
elsewhere, championed the interests of the moneyed classes. He who was
now Consul and was posing as the Grand Conciliator, praised Pompeius
as the strict constitutional champion, and characterized Cæsar’s
agrarian legislation as revolutionary. In the face of the Consul’s
opposition Cæsar hesitated to press the matter and withdrew his bill.
(64 B.C.) As this is the first legislative act brought forward under
Cæsar’s influence, it is interesting to note that his later political
methods and policies are anticipated in it. His Agrarian Law, when
analyzed, contains two elements. There is the purely personal feature,
more or less cleverly concealed in various clauses of the measure
so constructed as to forward the political interests of its author,
and, secondly, one can detect in Cæsar’s plan for agrarian reform a
keen-sighted appreciation of existing social and economic needs. This
last showed itself in the provision that the surplus population of Rome
should be employed as cultivators of the soil. Cicero’s methods of
defeating the bill by appealing to party prejudice were as essentially
demagogic as were Cæsar’s plans for winning popular support for his
measure. The only difference between them was that Cicero was working
in the interest of a capitalistic oligarchy, while Cæsar directly
aimed at the establishment of personal rule under the protection of an
irresponsible commission with unlimited powers. The campaign against
the dominant party was not, however, allowed to drop because of the
withdrawal of the Agrarian Bill. Cæsar, through one of his lieutenants,
brought impeachment proceedings against the murderer of a democratic
leader who had distinguished himself in the last days of Marius. It was
part of his pin-pricking policy, meant to intimidate the senatorial
faction, and the aim was clear, for the Senate had by a decree relieved
the murderer of responsibility years before. Nothing came of the
impeachment, but it went on record as showing Cæsar’s loyalty to the
democracy. His next proposal was especially gratifying to the admirers
of Marius, because it involved the removal from the children of the
victims of the Sullan proscription the disqualification by which they
were prevented from holding public office.

Soon after this, in the spring of 63, when there was a vacancy in
the office of Pontifex Maximus, the supreme head of the religion of
the city of Rome, Cæsar became a candidate. There were no religious
qualifications necessary; the office had no more relation to personal
belief than that of a prince bishop of the later history of the German
States, when territorial princes added the episcopal to their other
titles. Cæsar was one of the most advanced free-thinkers in Rome. But
he felt no incongruity, and apparently no one else did, in his desire
to figure as the director of the traditional religious usages of the
capital. The position meant so much to Cæsar that, heavily indebted as
he was, he refused to withdraw his name, when a large sum was offered
by an opposing candidate on condition that he would retire from the
contest. The office of Pontifex Maximus carried with it a number of
powers with great political possibilities, because in addition to
controlling the property attached to the college of priests over which
he presided, the Pontifex had important jurisdiction in religious
questions, the determination of religious scruples, and the charge of
the Calendar. All of these matters were intimately connected with the
Roman legislative procedure and also with the judicial system as worked
by the Roman magistrates. Moreover, it was a life position, and one’s
only surprise is that Cæsar’s administration of the office was not
attacked by his enemies. As a matter of fact, his career as an official
religious leader is marked by beneficent reforms in the Calendar and
by a solid contribution to the science of chronology.

There was some difficulty in the election, for it had been placed by
Sulla in the hands of the members of the college. But this measure was
repealed, and when the people became the electors, Cæsar had easily the
majority of the votes over his two conservative opponents. The year 63
had not been, as we have seen, a happy or tranquil one for the men in
power; there had been a constant series of attacks made upon them, and
they had been forced to stand steadily on the defensive.

Before the time for the consular elections the extreme wing of the
popular party appeared to have got out of hand. They selected for
their candidate Catiline, a leading spirit among the criminal and
corrupt order of Roman society, who had contested the election before
and had been defeated. Cæsar had already energetically supported
Catiline, but in the latter’s second attempt to be elected Consul,
it seems clear that Cæsar’s support was at best half-hearted. Cæsar
had come to know the reckless nature of Catiline’s program, with its
appeal for a general canceling of debts and its general attack on all
capitalistic interests. The scheme, however, did win the approval of
the discontented classes, and the occasion for carrying it through
was favorable, because Pompeius, the only man with a military force
adequate to act forcibly on behalf of the senatorial oligarchy, was
absent still in the East. It was understood that Catiline, if he
obtained office, would use it to inaugurate a social revolution;
if he were defeated, it was planned that violent methods should be
used to force a change of government on the oligarchy. An army was
to be collected in Italy, the city was to be set on fire, and in the
confusion the reins of government would be taken by Catiline and his
followers.

The plot was shrewdly defeated by Cicero, who was given by the
Senate unlimited powers, after a state of siege had been proclaimed.
Catiline escaped from the city, taking refuge with his army, which had
been collected near Florence; but several of the other conspirators
were taken prisoners in Rome, and the question of their fate was
brought up before the Senate. Cæsar had by report been implicated in
the conspiracy, but Cicero refused to follow up these suspicions.
Accordingly, in the senatorial debate, Cæsar appeared rather in the
light of a cross bench statesman than as a firm supporter of the
revolutionary leader.

It must be remembered that the Senate had no right to condemn a man
to death or to banishment. A general in the field could inflict the
death sentence without appeal, but no magistrate within the precincts
of the city could do so; there was an appeal from his decision to the
people legally assembled. Cicero wished to get from the Senate an
authoritative opinion, as to whether under their previous decree of
martial law he could exercise in the city the summary rights allowed to
a general in the field. Cæsar spoke after the consular members of the
Senate, all of whom had declared for the administration of the extreme
penalty. He opposed it in a careful and statesmanlike speech, using
his opportunity for putting himself on record as the upholder of the
democratic view of the constitution.

As no verbal report of any other of Cæsar’s speeches has come down to
us, it is interesting to give an extract from Sallust’s version, which
may be taken as an accurate outline, for, owing to Cicero’s personal
interest in the matter, the whole proceedings of the Senate during this
crucial debate were taken down in shorthand. After deprecating the use
of rhetoric as likely to prejudice the judgment, and remarking that
eloquent pictures of the horrors of war and rebellion were alien to
the matter in hand, Cæsar’s words were: “And indeed, for the crimes we
have to deal with, no penalty is in itself too cruel; death at least
cannot be so, for it puts an end to the misery of this life and brings
no torment in another. But the penalty will be looked on as cruel,
simply because it is unconstitutional. It has been over and over again
forbidden by express legislation to scourge or kill a citizen without
trial. You do not propose to scourge these men, presumably because the
law forbids it. Why, then, do you propose to put them to death? Both
penalties are equally illegal. I must remind you also of the precedent
your action will create. Once place such a power as you claim in the
hands of a government and you cannot put a limit on its use; it may be
and will be used against good and bad alike, as it was by the Thirty
at Athens and in our own recollection by Sulla. I do not fear this
now or with Cicero as Consul; but I will not answer for the power of
the sword in the hands of future Consuls. Let us abide by the law and
not seek in a panic to overrule it. My advice is, not indeed that we
let these men go, and thus increase the resources of Catiline, but
that we commit them for life to close custody in the largest Italian
towns, securing them by holding over each town the heaviest possible
penalty in case they should escape. And I further propose that we pass
a decree embodying our opinion that no proposal touching them shall be
made henceforth either in Senate or assembly; and that disregard of
the decree shall be treated by the Senate as high treason against the
state.”

The hint of a reaction was not an oratorical commonplace; it was
suggested by the recent history of Rome itself, and proved most
effective, for even Cicero’s own brother, Quintus, who followed Cæsar,
expressed his agreement with him. Cicero himself, in his reply, took
a rather wavering position, paying special attention to the practical
proposals of Cæsar, which so many modern historians have decided to
be weak and specious. But these have forgotten that, even if Cæsar’s
plans for keeping the prisoners as perpetual ticket-of-leave men in
various Italian communities offered no effective guarantee that they
would not escape, there was no especial reason for fearing their
presence again in Rome after Catiline and his army had been destroyed.
None of the conspirators was a man of first-rate ability, and besides,
the experience of unsuccessful conspiracy has almost as strong an
educational effect as imprisonment. Many Paris communards settled down
as peaceful citizens.

Cicero made an unfortunate experiment at this juncture. The Senate
listened readily to the summary appeals for justice to traitors
made by Cato, but Cicero’s execution of the Catilinarians was stored
up against him in the popular mind, and much of the good he might
have done in his political career was frustrated by his weakness in
identifying himself with the blind passion of the reactionary party.
For the moment, however, Cicero carried the people with him; they lost
their heads, alarmed by the wild tales of conflagration and massacre.
Cæsar’s life was in danger, because he had pleaded for a policy of
moderation, and it must be allowed that the words of his speech did not
represent a pose. The principles he stood for in 63 he adhered to after
the civil wars were over, when a word from him might have initiated a
proscription after the Sullan model.




II ALLIANCE WITH POMPEIUS AND CRASSUS


The year following the suppression of the Catiline conspiracy was one
of uncertainty. Pompeius was returning home after his six years’ stay
in the East. The question was whether he would play the rôle of a new
Sulla. It seems generally to have been expected that he would. There
was no army in Italy strong enough to resist his will; certainly the
force which had overcome Catiline near Fiesole was quite unequal to
such a work. The question was, who were to be his friends and what
policy would he pursue. One of the general’s emissaries appeared in
Rome, and made it clear that Pompeius could not be used as a mere tool
of the senatorial party. Cicero made tactless overtures to secure his
favor, and met with a cold reception.

Cæsar showed more diplomacy, paying the general the compliment of
requesting him to finish the Capitoline temple, one of the chief
shrines of the civic religion of Rome. This duty came within Cæsar’s
province as Pontifex Maximus, and besides as Prætor for this year
he held a position which made his influence useful to the returning
general. Both the scheme for the restoration of the temple and a
measure for recalling Pompeius to the city, which was supported by
Cæsar, were opposed by the Senate, and the discussion led to such
violence that the Senate suspended Cæsar from his functions as
magistrate, and only restored him when he had personally intervened to
quiet the passions of the mob.

Though Cæsar’s year of office was over (61 B.C.), and the time had
come for him to administer Spain as Proprætor, that being the province
assigned him, he delayed his departure. There were many grounds for
this course. Pompeius had been keeping his own counsel as to his
future plans, and required watching. Cæsar had difficulties with his
creditors; he had long been heavily in debt, and his year of office,
with its sensational political activities, must have severely drained
his resources.

But the chief cause which delayed his journey west was the violation,
in the House of the Pontifex Maximus, of the sacred mysteries of the
Bona Dea by a young Quæstor-elect, Clodius, who was suspected of being
the lover of Cæsar’s wife, Pompeia. A scandal involving the head of the
state religion was a serious matter, and Cæsar lived up to the rôle
assigned him by sententiously remarking that Cæsar’s wife ought not
even to be suspected and by seizing this opportunity of divorcing her.
The step satisfied public opinion at the time, but the dignity of the
act is somewhat lessened in the eyes of later critics from the fact
that the Pontifex Maximus himself was, even according to the flexible
standards of Rome, notorious for his moral laxity.

When Clodius’ trial was held, Cæsar diplomatically denied that he had
any certain knowledge of the case. Politics were so much involved in
this trial that proscriptions might have been initiated. Clodius was
a figure in the popular party, and, in the end, by the common method
of bribing the judges, an acquittal was secured. Pompeius, in the
midst of this exciting time, had arrived in Rome, thus giving Cæsar
an opportunity of taking the measure of the over-praised Eastern
conqueror. Before Cæsar left for Spain, mutual advances had taken
place, and he felt sure that Pompeius would not ally himself with the
senatorial party. Cæsar also continued to be on good terms with the
millionaire Crassus, and before leaving Italy he borrowed from him
eighteen hundred talents to satisfy the demands of creditors.

Of the period of Cæsar’s rule in Spain little is known; but his service
there was valuable to him because, while contending with the hardy hill
tribes, who were constantly in arms against the Romans, he received
a training in war that afterwards stood him in good stead. He showed
himself, too, an able and conscientious administrator, regardful of
the condition of the provincials, who had suffered from the loss of
property and from heavy taxation during the unintermitted war that took
place while the government at Rome was destroying the home-rule system
set up by Sertorius. The beneficent character of Cæsar’s administration
showed itself in his friendly relation with the free city of Gades,
where he was called in to reform the local laws and to settle factional
disputes. The prosperity of the town in after years may reasonably
be supposed to have dated from this period. Even Cicero speaks in
glowing language of Cæsar’s supervision. The generous character of his
treatment of the town is seen in its admission twelve years afterwards
to the full Roman franchise. One of the most distinguished of the
citizens of Gades, Balbus, became Cæsar’s confidential agent and
secretary, serving in this capacity for many years without a break.
After his master’s death, Balbus rose to be Prætor and Consul; he was
the first enfranchised foreigner who held these highest offices in Rome.

All the affairs relating to his provincial government were set in order
in the spring of 59 B.C., when Cæsar set out for Rome to be there in
time for the consular elections, which were usually held in summer. He
had two objects in view: one to secure the dignity of a triumph, the
official stamp of a successful military commander; the other to present
himself as a candidate for the consulship. It was impossible for him
while holding a military command to appear within the walls and
formally solicit the votes of his fellow-citizens. He therefore asked
for permission to become a candidate without fulfilling the formal
conditions, and this request the Senate refused to grant. Cæsar solved
the difficulty by sacrificing the triumph; he resigned his command and
entered the city as a private individual.

But now the opposition to him took another form. A determined
aristocrat, M. Calpurnius Bibulus, who, apart from his political
tenets, had a long-standing personal grudge against Cæsar, was put up
by the senatorial party as his colleague for the consulship, and was
elected by the lavish use of money. Cæsar’s next move in this game of
political strategy was a master stroke of astuteness; he formed a close
combination with Pompeius, whom the senatorial party had just irritated
by vetoing all his pet schemes, among them an opportunity of a second
consulship and a plan to reward his soldiers by a distribution of
public lands. As a third member of the alliance Crassus was introduced,
a valuable asset because of the great financial backing he could give.
He saw a chance for promoting his political advancement with two such
colleagues to help him. It was a frank system of give and take; there
were no strong personal ties between any of the three members of the
junta, but they had at least a common opponent, the senatorial party.

An effort was made, though it was unsuccessful, to detach Cicero from
his friendly relations with the aristocratic majority in the Senate;
as he declined the invitation, the new political machine became a
triumvirate, the union of three influential persons to overcome
opposition and to prevent the wheels of public business from being
blocked by the endless methods of obstruction ever ready to be employed
in the complicated system of Roman government, where the checks were
more numerous than the balances. It simply meant that these three men,
and not the reactionary senators, should decide on the distribution of
provinces, on the candidates for offices, and on the command of armies.
From the record of all three, it was clear that the technique of the
constitutional system would not be treated with great reverence, for
all were practical politicians and had definite personal ambitions to
gratify.

As Consul, Cæsar began his year of magistracy with a policy of studied
moderation. He tried to get on with Bibulus by showing him marked
consideration in the way of official precedence, and his first reform
of senatorial practice concerned a subject which might well have been
taken as a non-controversial matter, the publication of the Senate’s
proceedings. Cæsar proposed that a summary of each debate should be
exposed to view in the Forum. It was an intimation to the senators that
they must hold themselves responsible to public opinion.

The next proposal was to make some arrangement by which the veterans of
Pompeius’ army should be supplied with public lands. These lands had
to be acquired by the state from private owners, so the proceeds of
the extensive conquests of Pompeius’ conquests in the East were to be
applied to this purpose. The Senate refused to listen to any agrarian
measure; the very name frightened them. Cato obstructed, trying to talk
the scheme out in the Senate. Cæsar, who had as little respect for
parliamentary procedure as Cromwell, put a stop to this copious oratory
by placing the speaker under arrest. He was soon released, however, in
deference to the pressure of his colleagues.

In the face of the hopeless opposition of the Senate to the Consul’s
legislation, the only course left to pursue was for Cæsar to present
his legislation directly to the popular assembly, without the
authorization of the Senate. This method was extraordinary, but not
absolutely illegal, and it had been employed by reformers since the
time of Tiberius Gracchus. There were, of course, grave objections to
it, for measures could be rushed through without proper discussion, and
it is well known that hasty legislation is often dangerous, even for
those who promote it. A specially drastic feature of the agrarian bill
was the clause which compelled senators and all officers, to be elected
in future, to swear to be faithful to its provisions.

In this way Cæsar hoped to secure his measure from being abrogated
when the year of his magistracy was over. This clause was not,
however, a new expedient, but it was now being used in a new way to
prevent the claim that prerogatives of the Senate had been violated by
passing legislation without consulting its wishes. Pompeius promised
to support the bill by arms if violence were resorted to on the other
side. A Tribune exercised his right to veto on the measure, when it was
introduced in the popular assembly, but this old constitutional check
was contemptuously disregarded. Also, when Bibulus, the conservative
colleague of Cæsar, interfered by formally delaying action in the
measure, he was forcibly removed from the Forum by some of Pompeius’
veterans. Bibulus was equally powerless when he invoked religious
scruples of a technical kind, for Cæsar was Pontifex Maximus as well
as Consul. Bibulus’ interpretations of signs and omens were ruled out
as irregular. Even when the bill was passed by the people, he kept up
opposition in the Senate and tried to induce the senators to declare
the agrarian law null and void. They, however, were not prepared to
join him in such a hazardous undertaking, so in disgust he withdrew for
the rest of his term into private life. His retirement led the people
to remark jokingly that the two Consuls for the year were Julius and
Cæsar, not Cæsar and Bibulus.

The passage of the agrarian democratic measure, as it stood, was
undertaken to fulfil engagements made with Pompeius, whose troops were
especially concerned in this distribution of lands. Equally personal
were the measures passed by the people to regularize the situation of
the territories in the East, where Pompeius, after his conquests, had
acted on his own initiative in making treaties, imposing taxation, and
settling the terms of local administration. The personal relations
between the two triumvirs were now drawn closer by the marriage of
Cæsar’s daughter Julia to Pompeius; she was at this time twenty-two
years old, and as long as she lived she prevented any open rupture
between her husband and her father.

In another legislative enactment Cæsar attested his loyal
interpretation of the triumvirate compact rather than his desire to
forward the public interests of the state. Crassus desired that the
farmers of the taxes in the province of Asia should be relieved from
the contract which they had made with the government. It was a shady
piece of business; even Cicero, who was not apt to be critical where
capitalistic interests were involved, called the scheme of Crassus
shameful. It was defeated in the Senate by the determined efforts of
Cato. The measure was afterwards jammed through the popular assembly in
a form which relieved the taxgatherers of one-third of their financial
burden.

This was really a shrewd move to separate from the senatorial party
the whole mercantile class, who normally acted solidly with them. They
now looked upon the triumvirate combination as favorable to their
interests, and so deprived the Senate of a solid support at a time
when that body needed every element of the population in its unequal
struggle with the triumvirs.

Much more worthy than this act of special legislation was a measure
for dealing with extortion on the part of provincial administrators.
The Roman governors and their subordinates treated the provinces
as legitimate spoil, by which they could balance the large amounts
spent at home in political corruption. This system offered the most
unwholesome example of ring rule. Every man in public life had a good
chance of ruling a province at some time in his career, and there was
no inducement to touch a well-tried system which had proved profitable
to all concerned.

Cæsar’s law was a blanket measure, evidently drawn with great
intelligence and showing the familiarity of an ex-provincial official
with the concrete needs of the situation. It extended the jurisdiction
of existing courts for cases of provincial extortion, in regard to
the definition of the crime, the persons liable, and the penalties
to be imposed. All the methods of extortion were brought within the
scope of this act. The governor and his official staff were held
liable, and the punishment, hitherto chiefly imposed by damages, was
increased to deprivation of the right to bequeath property, and in some
cases expulsion from the Senate and exile were inflicted on offending
officials.

Good as this legislation was, it contained a political element which
prevented it from meeting the whole situation of provincial misrule.
The triumvirate, we have seen, made a distinct bid for the favor of
the mercantile classes when the previous bill was passed relieving
the taxgatherers of Asia from the full extent of their contract. This
new law only concerned the administration of senatorial officials;
it did not put an end to extortion, nor did it stop the avenues of
public corruption, because the financiers, the men who gathered about
the official ruling class, were left to ply their nefarious trade
unmolested.

But Cæsar’s consulship broke the power of the senatorial aristocracy,
which had been on the decline ever since the death of Sulla. By his
alliance with Pompeius and Crassus a continuity of policy was secured,
under which the old republican principle that cessation of office
meant also cessation of power came to an end. The main business at the
close of his year of service as Consul was to arrange that the system
he had started should continue to work smoothly. The two candidates
for the consulship were pledged supporters of the triumvirate. An even
more important tool was the active and unscrupulous Clodius, who had
made himself notorious because of the Bona Dea scandal. He was made a
Tribune, and as such became the local agent in Rome of the triumvirs’
interests. He signalized his entrance into office by abolishing the
small payment still exacted on the state distribution of grain to the
people, and he organized the masses into guilds, each under a district
leader, so that the populace could be controlled and could be worked
together either as a political machine or as a mob, whether to vote or
to do deeds of violence according to the password of their leader.

The Senate, in arranging the assignment of provinces in B.C. 59, had
tried to diminish Cæsar’s influence by giving him for his work as
Proconsul the duty of attending to the internal condition of Italy.
This meant that he would have no military force at his command, and
that he would be expected to devote himself to the supervision of roads
and public works. The senatorial arrangement for rendering their chief
opponent innocuous was simply an invitation to him to treat it as
non-existing. It was proposed to set the Senate’s action aside and to
give Cisalpine Gaul and the adjoining province of Illyria to Cæsar for
a period of five years.

When the new measure was before the popular assembly, the Senate, under
pressure from Pompeius, voted that in addition to Cisalpine Gaul in the
Celtic region on the Italian side of the Alps, the Gallic province,
with an ample army and suitable staff, should be assigned to Cæsar. It
was known that there was restlessness among the Gauls and the Germans,
who were on the borders of the prosperous Roman province in southern
Gaul along the lower Rhone. This was, of course, an opportunity for
real proconsular duty, but probably no one who voted for the assignment
realized the possibilities of the command which now fell into Cæsar’s
hand.

But before setting out for his province (58 B.C.), Cæsar remained near
at hand to supervise Clodius’ arrangements for muzzling the Senate; it
was not safe for the new Proconsul to absent himself from Rome until
affairs there had been brought so under control that there would be no
chance of a senatorial reactionary movement. Clodius first abolished
the use of indefinitely prolonged obstruction, a practice involved in
the religious privilege of “watching the heavens” for evil omens, and a
method of delay normally used to prevent the assemblies of the people
from being held. The next step was to hinder the Censors from making a
combination to remove from the Senate partisans of Cæsar. This purpose
was secured by another law of Clodius that made it impossible for
the Censor to strike from the roll of the Senate anyone, except on a
formal accusation, and no member could be removed even then unless both
Censors acted together.

Cæsar attempted also to conciliate Cicero by offering him a staff
appointment; on this being refused, as it was desirable to deprive
the senatorial party of the oratorical talents which gave Cicero a
hold on the people, Clodius was allowed to bring charges against him
in connection with the execution of the Catilinarian conspirators.
The terms of the new law were perfectly general; it simply outlawed
any person who had or should hereafter put to death a Roman citizen
uncondemned, that is, without due trial and sentence. Cicero took
the hint and fled from Rome. At the same time the uncompromising
senatorial obstructionist Cato was “kicked upstairs” by being given an
appointment as commissioner to supervise the annexation of the island
of Cyprus. Ample time was allowed him, and it was arranged that when
he had finished with Cyprus, he should go to Byzantium and settle some
unimportant disputes in that free city. With Cato kept busy at a long
distance from Rome, and with Cicero out of the way, there was little to
fear with Clodius acting in the rôle of “boss” of Rome.




III THE CONQUEST OF GAUL


Very soon after the flight of the great orator, Cæsar, who had been
watching with his army the proceedings within the city, started for his
province of Gaul. The country which was to be the scene of his labors
as governor, and in which through successive campaigns his reputation
in generalship was to be made, was larger than modern France, for it
extended to the Rhine, the Alps, and the Pyrenees. Only a part of
it was familiar to the Romans, and for this reason one of the most
striking proofs of Cæsar’s skill as a commander is the ability and
certainty with which he penetrated into regions unvisited before and
therefore unfamiliar to him except by the hearsay stories of the casual
traveler. The province had originally been occupied by the Romans in
the struggle with Hannibal, because it secured their land communication
with Spain. In its southern part it was well developed and civilized,
but the limit of Roman rule northward was marked by the valley of the
Rhone, and the famous city of Lyons had not yet been founded, which was
later on the headquarters of Roman power in Gaul.

Much trouble was being experienced from Germanic invaders farther
north, who were crossing the Rhine and were in great numbers occupying
the fertile lands to the east of them. The Gauls themselves had no
cohesive power of resistance; they were constantly quarreling among
themselves, and it seemed only a question of time when the Germans,
uniting with the Gauls, who were certain to become subject to their
rule, would overwhelm the peaceful and civilized inhabitants of the
Roman province. The situation required immediate attention, for the
Ædui who lived between the Loire and the Saône were calling on the
Romans as allies for help and protection against their neighbors,
other Gaulish tribes, who with the aid of the German king, Ariovistus,
were threatening to take their land. Besides, it was reported that the
Helvetic and the German peoples were contemplating a migration on a
large scale, induced to leave south Germany by the prospect of finding
better lands farther west.

The country as a whole was in a state of unrest; the unconquered mass
of the free tribes, extending from the fringe of Roman occupation
in the south to the North Sea, might easily become dangerous to the
countries under Roman occupation on the other side of the Pyrenees and
the Alps. Up to the time of Cæsar’s advent, the government at Rome had
shown singular apathy; a few resolutions had been passed, directing
that the allied tribes should be aided, but no additions were made to
the army in the province. The emotional temperament of the Gauls made
them subject to quick changes in their point of view; unless something
were done quickly, even the allies of Rome would have to be counted on
the other side. It was easy for them to drop their present allegiance,
for they were as a mass a servile population, guided by an aristocracy
of nobles or knights, and by a widely extended and mysterious guild,
the Druids, who each year held a solemn assembly in a sacred place in
the center of the land.

The general difficulties of coping with the situation were great when
Cæsar took command, but the special details of the position as it
confronted him increased the obstacles in the way of prompt action.
There was but one legion beyond the Alps; the other three were far
away in Aquileia at the top of the Adriatic. It was fortunate for him
that he could draw on the reserves of Cisalpine Gaul, the richest part
of Italy, the province which extended over the plains of Lombardy
to Tuscany. This province was filled with a hardy race of yeomen
cultivators, a mixed population, having its origin in the conquered
Celtic tribes and in genuine Roman colonists.

Nowhere else could there be found a better recruiting ground for the
legions, and nowhere also, on account of the general intelligence of
the inhabitants, would the personal qualities of a general find a more
immediate response. The tactfulness of Cæsar had already been put to
the test in the arena of political life; he had learned how to make
friends and to hold them. Apart from the technical gifts of military
art, the personal charm of Cæsar’s character was a great factor in
securing for him an army made up of devoted troops and officers.
They trusted him, and they were held to him as a leader, because he
seems from the first to have been able to establish close relations
of a spontaneous and genuine type with those who were under him. His
army was not a mere fighting machine, but an organism reflecting the
individual driving power and coolness of the man who led it.

The series of campaigns in Gaul begins with Cæsar’s successful blocking
of the migration of the Helvetii. All that is known of the details
of the strategy employed by the Romans is derived from Cæsar’s own
report, which has been frequently criticised as intentionally obscure
and misleading. It must be remembered that the famous commentaries on
the Gallic wars were hurriedly dictated, and were meant to tell the
public what the commander-in-chief wished them to know and nothing
more. For example, many modern authorities are agreed that the numbers
of the migrating Helvetii are very much overestimated by Cæsar and that
the real purpose of their migration was artfully concealed. Napoleon,
who was a past master in falsifying military records, declared
that the campaign against the Helvetii as narrated by Cæsar was
incomprehensible.

The real situation in Gaul prior to the migration seems to have been as
follows. As we have said, Ariovistus, the German king, was in control
of the central part of the country. This overlordship was burdensome
to the Gauls, who paid him a yearly tribute. A prince of the Ædui,
Divitiacus, had turned to the Romans for help, but his request was
rejected, for Ariovistus, during Cæsar’s own consulship, had been
acknowledged as king and formally declared an ally and friend of the
Roman people. There was another party among the Ædui, led by Dumnorix,
the brother of Divitiacus, who favored throwing off the German yoke,
and urged a general uprising of the Gauls, unassisted by the Romans.

Not far away from Æduan territory were the Helvetii, who were
independent of the rule of Ariovistus, and with them the autonomous
party among the Ædui entered into friendly relations in order to secure
them as allies against the Germans. The Helvetii were to be persuaded
by their leaders to migrate to western Gaul, and it was arranged that,
when the whole tribe was slowly passing through the land of the Ædui,
there should be a rising against Ariovistus. The Ædui could count on
the assistance of the Helvetii, because as future occupants of Gallic
territory the immigrants would have no desire to be dependents of the
German king.

This situation and this program were known to Cæsar before he left
Rome, for he was in communication with the pro-Roman party among the
Ædui. It was of course his object to frustrate this plan of driving out
the Germans without the help of Rome, because it was to his interest
that Roman overlordship should take the place of German control. The
request of the Helvetii to be allowed to pass peacefully through Roman
territory came just in time. It gave Cæsar the opportunity of defending
the frontier and strengthening his army.

As soon as the Helvetii were refused a passage through the Roman
province, they started directly for the land of the Ædui, crossing
over the Roman territory, and so they abandoned the fiction of a
migration to the west. In the meantime, by the liberal use of money,
the pro-Roman party among the Ædui had got the upper hand. Accordingly
when the Helvetii, whose rear division had been attacked by Cæsar
as they were crossing the Saône, reached the land of their would-be
allies, they were treated as enemies by the Ædui, who were now calling
on Cæsar for help to resist the invaders. The Helvetii, willing to
return, desired to come to terms with the Roman general, but they
refused to accept the Roman conditions as to hostages. They started
to retrace their steps by following a more northerly course on their
return in order to take advantage of the mountainous country, as a
protection against an attack on the part of the Romans.

Cæsar followed warily; his own troops were indeed strengthened by
Æduan cavalry, but these, on the first engagement, had fled before the
enemy. It was obvious their loyalty could not be depended upon, and
significant, too, that Dumnorix was in command. When an attempt to
surround the Helvetii with two Roman legions failed, Cæsar withdrew
to Bibracte, the Æduan capital, to replenish his army and probably
to prevent the defection of his allies. The Helvetii might now have
returned to their old home unmolested, but they were embittered against
the Romans, who had shown constant hostility to their movements,
whether they advanced or retreated, and they were quite willing to
treat with the patriotic party among the Ædui, who asked them now for
help against the Romans. They turned back therefore, with the purpose
of attacking the Romans as they were marching towards Bibracte.

The actual number of the Helvetii engaged in this operation cannot
have been very great, for their wagon train was in a very short time
collected, formed, and turned into an improvised citadel. Their
movements before, during, and after battle show that the number 368,000
given by Cæsar is enormously exaggerated. Altogether, including allied
forces, Cæsar’s army may be reckoned at 40,000 men. There were six
legions (36,000 men) and allied cavalry to the number of 4000.

When the Helvetii approached, the brunt of the fighting was assigned to
four legions of veterans; the rest, the fresh recruits and the allies,
were placed behind the line of battle and directed to protect the camp.
As the Helvetii attacked the four legions, who were advantageously
stationed on the slope of a hill, they were thrown back; but, as the
legions advanced, these in turn were vigorously attacked on their
flanks. The battle was hotly contested, the Romans taking the offensive
both in the front and on the sides. Slowly the enemy withdrew, and it
was dark before the Roman army took the massed wagons by assault. After
the victory, Cæsar remained on the field of battle for three days. The
Helvetii fled towards the east and a few days later surrendered, most
of them being sent back to their old homes. The Helvetian overthrow was
a useful stroke; it made a decided impression on the Gauls, who were
now able to take the measure of the new commander of the Romans.

The next move was to break the power of Ariovistus. Cæsar represents
the suggestion as coming from various Gallic deputations, who besought
him to help them cast off the German yoke. But it is obvious that the
presence of Ariovistus in Gaul was incompatible with the purpose of
Cæsar to subjugate the entire country. All negotiations with the German
chieftain proved futile; he insisted on keeping the Gallic tribes as
his tributaries, and simply asked to be let alone.

Cæsar took his army to the east and came into contact with the Germans
in the neighborhood of Belfort or in southern Alsace; it is impossible
to determine the locality with precision. Ariovistus collected his
wagons into a fortified camp on an elevation a short distance from the
position of the Romans, using his advantage to break up by cavalry
sorties the Roman line of communication. His plan appears to have been
to force the Romans to withdraw and to attack them on their march. The
German leader took full advantage of the mobility of his troops, and
his cavalry proved too strong for the Gallic horse on the side of the
Romans. All attempts to draw Ariovistus from his camp failed, until
Cæsar divided his army, placing two legions in a fortified position,
where they could more efficiently protect the line of communications.
This smaller camp Ariovistus tried to take by storm, and failed.

When the main Roman army advanced, and began to threaten the wagon
citadel of the Germans, Ariovistus determined to give battle. The
battle itself was won through the superior discipline of the Romans;
once during its progress the left wing was in danger, but it was saved
by the prompt action of the younger Crassus, who was in command of
the cavalry. Cæsar with the right wing carried all before him. As to
the numbers engaged, it was Napoleon’s opinion that the Germans were
not stronger than Cæsar; the probability is that they were weaker.
Ariovistus’ whole army, though with it he controlled a large part of
Gaul, need not have been more than 20,000 men. They were, of course,
a better trained fighting force than anything the Gallic tribes could
create, and it was not difficult, using the divisions among the Gauls,
to establish an effective overlordship with a small, well-disciplined
army.

Apparently the bulk of the German army was destroyed; Ariovistus,
however, succeeded in making his escape beyond the Rhine. The defeat
of the Germans had important consequences; before the opening of the
campaign against Ariovistus, news had come from the north that the
Suevi, an important German tribe, were about to move across the Rhine.
The knowledge of the fate of Ariovistus forced them back again into the
depths of Germany.

During the winter Cæsar crossed the Alps to attend to the
administration of the Cisalpine province, leaving his troops quartered
in Gaul under the command of his trusted lieutenant, Labienus. He
raised two new legions, and when he returned northward it was already
plain that the pacification of the country was far from complete. The
Gauls feared the expansion of Roman power, and there were rumors of an
uprising to be led by the tribes of the Belgæ. Cæsar marched directly
to the danger spot, and taking advantage of tribal jealousies, induced
the Remi, whose territory lay between the Maas, the Oise, and the
Maine, to accept the alliance and protectorate of Rome. (57 B.C.)

This was a wise move, for it was clear from reports on the spot that
the whole Belgic confederacy, representing the most warlike of the
Gallic tribes, were up in arms. The fate of Ariovistus, the year
before, had shown that the only way to resist the extension of Roman
rule in Gaul was by tribal combination. The Belgæ thoroughly realized
their danger, and when Cæsar passed their frontiers, they opposed him
with a large allied army composed of contingents of all the neighboring
peoples.

The great difficulty was to keep such large masses of men together
and to provide them with food. In the time of Marius, the Germanic
invaders, the Cimbri and the Teutones, in order to secure provisions as
they went, had divided into several smaller groups, each one of which
was beaten in detail by the Roman general. Cæsar’s strategy was to be
governed by the same principles; he meant to wear the Belgæ out and
to refuse to give battle until they had lost their unity, until each
dissevered fraction might be drawn into action without support from the
rest. Cæsar having recruited two new legions, in all there were eight.
Besides, there served under him a variegated band of allies, Numidians,
Cretans, men of the Balearic Islands, and Gallic cavalry.

Altogether the Roman fighting host may be reckoned at fifty to sixty
thousand men, with camp followers, perhaps nearly one hundred thousand
in all. To keep such a body in the field for a considerable time meant
a carefully organized system of transportation and economic equipment.
A strongly fortified camp was constructed on the north bank of the
River Aisne, where the soldiers were kept in good discipline. The
remains of extensive fortifications, in the form of ditches eighteen
feet wide and nine or ten feet deep, and a wall with palisades twelve
feet high, were found on the site of Cæsar’s camp by the archæologists
who worked under the direction of Napoleon III.

The camp was in the country of the Remi, who had, as we have
mentioned, become allies of the Romans; it was their town Bibrax
which the Belgæ first attacked, hoping to induce Cæsar to leave his
fortified position to repel them. He remained, however, where he was,
sending sufficient help in the way of defensive artillery to enable the
townsmen to defend themselves and to force the Belgæ to give up the
siege. They then turned to attack the Roman camp. Cæsar drew up his
army, but neither side had any desire to come to close quarters, as in
front of the camp there was a considerable stretch of swampy ground.
The Belgæ then tried to cut off the Roman line of communications, but
this involved crossing the Aisne, and its banks were closely watched by
Cæsar’s men. A few horsemen and war engines were sufficient to deter
them from making the attempt.

If the Belgæ had crossed with their whole army, they could have carried
out their purpose; the Roman communications would have been broken, but
the Romans could have gone ahead, and the Belgæ, outside of their own
land, had no way of maintaining their supplies. The only thing to do
was to surround the Roman camp from all sides and starve it out. Even
with their superior numbers, which Cæsar gives as 306,000, this was a
difficult operation, for the enveloping lines, owing to the country
being traversed by two rivers, would have been large. In any case the
Belgæ recognized that they could not keep the field long, and when
they heard that Cæsar’s allies, the Ædui, were invading their country,
they decided to withdraw, the confederated tribes engaging to help one
another if Cæsar’s army invaded their territory. The retreat of the
Belgæ was so unexpected that at first the Romans took it for a feint
meant to provoke them to leave their camp.

As soon as the news was well authenticated, the cavalry pursued the
retreating barbarians, keeping up a series of irritating attacks. The
Belgic strongholds surrendered soon after; only three tribes, the
Nervii, the Viromandui, and the Atrebates, tried to strike a blow for
Gallic freedom. They fell upon the Romans, while they were arranging to
encamp in a woody country on the Sambre, and caused almost a panic.
The allied troops fled in confusion, but the legionaries held their
ground, getting themselves in line, and as they were far superior in
numbers to the Nervii, they soon got the upper hand of them, although
there was some sharp fighting and for a time two of the legions were
hard pressed. It was part of the Roman general’s strategy not to face a
superior force. This point is apparent in the previous campaigns, but,
as a military writer, Cæsar had no scruples in manipulating his figures
for popular consumption. When the Nervii made peace unconditionally,
they represented themselves, according to Cæsar, as having only 500 men
left out of an original 60,000 capable of bearing arms; a few years
later they appear again in the Commentaries as having a considerable
army. They also sent a contingent of 5000 to Alesia at the close of
the Gallic war. Probably a just estimate of the fighting force of the
Nervii would give them 30,000 men, because the whole population of the
district could hardly have been more than 150,000 souls. They occupied
a territory of four hundred square kilometers, and with the slight
density of population in Gaul, they could not have numbered more than
the figures given above. Even in the Italian peninsula, which was more
thickly settled, there was altogether a population of not more than
three and a half millions and a density of only twenty-five per square
kilometer. The Roman legions who opposed the Nervii in this last fight
numbered at least 40,000 men.

Dwelling east of the Nervii were the Aduatuci, said to be descendants
of the survivors of the former Cimbri and Teutones, whom Marius had
destroyed. They had promised to help the Nervii, but had come too late
for the battle. Now they withdrew to their chief fortress, but when
they saw themselves being enveloped in the complicated and scientific
siege works of the Romans, their hearts failed and they surrendered
before the final assault was made. What they had not been able to do
openly they hoped to accomplish by treachery, for they reserved a part
of their arms, at the time they made their submission, and when the
Romans were off their guard at night, made a sudden attack upon them.
They were defeated with heavy loss, and the next day, in order to
make an example of them, Cæsar sold the whole tribe, men, women, and
children, into slavery, 53,000 souls in all.

After the Belgic campaign was over, Cæsar laid plans for the further
expansion of Roman control in Gaul by sending one of his lieutenants
to Armorica, modern Normandy and Brittany, to secure the submission of
the inhabitants. Moreover, seven legions were placed in winter quarters
along the Loire, ready to use the stream to transport themselves to the
territory of the Veneti, the chief tribe in the west of Gaul. (56 B.C.)

The announcement of Cæsar’s great success made a profound impression
in Rome; new and unknown domains were being annexed, and the people
were granted an unprecedented space of fifteen days for a public
thanksgiving. During the winter the general himself took up the
detailed work of governor of the Cisalpine province, and also made a
tour of Illyria, which had been previously unvisited by him. It was
filled with a hardy and brave population and might well be used for
drawing auxiliary troops for his army.

In Gaul the situation of affairs showed that the people of Armorica
could not be depended upon, though they professed loyalty to the
Romans. Young Crassus, who commanded a garrison encamped at the mouth
of the Loire, when he found his soldiers suffering from lack of
supplies, sent some of his officers to collect provisions from the
neighboring districts supposedly friendly. The Veneti seized these men,
and refused to give them up except in exchange for their own hostages
in the hands of the Romans, and they proceeded to bind themselves
together for common action, showing their desire to repudiate the
sovereignty of Rome. Cæsar’s reply to the challenge was to order the
preparation of a fleet of ships to be put into service the following
summer against the Veneti, whose chief seats were along the sea coast.

It was not possible for Cæsar to direct these operations in person,
for affairs in Rome demanded his presence on the southern side of
the Alps. Clodius had mismanaged the affairs of the democratic party
in Rome, had proved headstrong, had alienated Pompeius, and had
been unable to prevent the return of Cicero from exile. The cause
of the senatorial oligarchy was progressing, and a danger point was
reached when Crassus drew away from Pompeius, of whose popularity
he was jealous, and when Pompeius himself felt that his talents and
his position as conqueror of the East were not being sufficiently
recognized. Cato, too, was returning from Cyprus, and could be relied
upon to give the triumvirs trouble in his rôle of professional
obstructionist.

As there was talk already in Rome of the recalling of Cæsar, a
consultation between the triumvirs was imperatively needed. Lucca in
Tuscany was selected for the place of meeting, which took place in
April, 56. A great crowd of officials, magistrates, and senators were
present to receive orders from the triumvirs or to hear particulars of
the conference. Cæsar by his diplomacy managed to remove the causes of
estrangement between Crassus and Pompeius, and the details of a common
policy were arranged. By the conference at Lucca, through the adroit
manipulation of Cæsar, the old combination that had begun to work
haltingly, owing to the estrangement between Crassus and Pompeius, and
also to their common lack of political acumen, was re-established and
its details settled.

The main thing was to muzzle the Senate; with this done, it would be
safe for Pompeius and Crassus to carry out their plans for securing
an important province each, together with a military command for a
long term of years. The arrangement was that the other two triumvirs
(Cæsar of course returning to finish the subjugation of Gaul) should
be Consuls in 55; and after their year of magistracy was finished,
Pompeius was to have the two provinces in Spain, and Crassus was to
go to the East, where there would be a chance of achieving military
distinction in a war with the Parthians. In the local affairs of Rome
care was taken that Clodius should be kept from continuing his line of
irresponsible action, and Cicero was drawn into the sphere of Cæsar’s
influence by his brother being given a subordinate military command in
Gaul.

Cæsar, when the conference was over, soon returned to the front, to
deal with the Veneti in such an effective way that by their example the
Gallic tribes might be taught the risks of braving the power of Rome.
Divisions of the army were sent to various points of Gaul, where it
seemed likely there might be sympathetic uprisings of the populations
in favor of the national movement, led by the tribes about the Loire.
The Veneti had against them Cæsar himself, and the problem of their
subjugation offered some novel difficulties. Their fortified places
were usually on headlands; sometimes inaccessible from the mainland
except by ship. The country was cut up by many estuaries, and the
Veneti, who were practised sailors, showed great mobility in their
movements. They withdrew from one post to another, easily cutting
themselves off from attack as the Romans, who were not familiar with
the country, advanced to meet them with the hope of forcing a decisive
engagement. Their power could be destroyed only in a naval battle, and
it required both patience and ingenuity on Cæsar’s part before his men
could be trained to meet the enemy in their own waters, or even before
a fleet could be built suitable to overcome the special difficulties of
navigation on the shores of the Bay of Biscay, so unlike the conditions
in the Mediterranean. The fleet of the Veneti was finally destroyed;
their ships were rendered helpless when the men on the Roman fleet cut
their rigging with long poles having at the end sharp hooked knives,
and boarding parties disposed of the warriors on the decks. Many of the
brave tribe were put to death when they submitted, and the rest were
sold as slaves.

In the meantime the operations of the subordinate commanders had been
successful, and conspicuous results had been reached in Aquitaine,
where the younger Crassus had brought all the tribes to accept Roman
sovereignty. Indeed the only failure to be registered this year was
Cæsar’s own expedition in the far northern part of Gaul between the
Somme and the Rhine, the dwelling place of the Morini and the Menapii.
These tribes took refuge in their forests and could not be dislodged,
and even some incidental defeats failed to break their obstinacy.

The new year, as it opened, with news of a German invasion on a large
scale, brought fresh anxieties to the commander. It was told him that
warlike tribes living in and about the Thuringian forest were on the
move towards the west, and that others had even crossed the Rhine,
dispersing the Gallic tribes in their progress. In Gaul there was a
disposition in some quarters to welcome them as deliverers; already
some of the Gallic tribes were in communication with them on a friendly
basis. (55 B.C.)

Cæsar marched to meet the Germans, and in a conference with their
leaders told them they must leave Gallic territory, at the same time
offering to make an arrangement by which they could receive land on
the right bank of the Rhine. They seemed disposed to accept these
terms, but soon hostilities were precipitated because, while the terms
were being discussed, the Germans attacked some of the Gallic cavalry
attached to Cæsar’s army. The Romans moved suddenly, and according to
Cæsar’s own account, butchered in cold blood men, women, and children
to the number of 430,000, a hearsay number of course, but there is no
reason for doubting that there was a massacre. No Roman was killed and
few were wounded. Even in Rome, notoriously insensible to deeds of
blood, this wholesale butchery caused disgust. Cato proposed that Cæsar
should be given up to the barbarians as an act of justice. But the
Senate contented itself with decreeing honors for the victory, although
it was proposed, but not carried, that the operations in Gaul should be
investigated by a commission.

To finish up the moral effect made on the Germans by the massacre of
their kinsmen, Cæsar built a trestle across the Rhine, transported his
army into German territory, and for a short time his soldiers were
employed in laying waste the country contiguous to the river. He had
no intention of penetrating to the interior of the country, and soon
returned to Gaul, after destroying the bridge he had built.

This year’s campaign had been marked by daring adventures; it was to
have a spectacular close in the expedition to Britain, an island known
in a general way to traders from Gaul, but never yet visited by a Roman
official or by a Roman army. Cæsar affected to believe that resistance
to Roman rule in Gaul was being supported from Britain. In any case a
protectorate of the island seemed to offer great material advantages,
for exaggerated reports were in circulation as to its wealth and
fertility. The expedition was only a partial success. A few tribes made
their submission, but the troops had to be hastily withdrawn, because
Cæsar desired to be back on the mainland before the equinoctials set
in, as the fleet had already severely suffered in a storm.

In the winter preparations were made on a large scale for a second
crossing, a large body of transports being prepared and collected at
Portus Itius (perhaps Wissant, near Cape Grinez). The troops in the
meantime were carefully trained in handling newly constructed vessels
specially planned for the waters of the narrow seas. During the winter
the periodic signs of disaffection among the Gauls were again plainly
visible, this time the Treviri were intriguing with the Germans. An
advance in force from Cæsar was needed to put a check to the rising
hopes of the anti-Roman party, whose chief, Indutiomar, was forced to
give hostages for his good behavior. Much discontent was caused by the
necessity of sending contingents to the army; besides, the legions were
a burden on the food supplies of the land. The feeling against foreign
control grew so strong that Cæsar determined to take some of the Gallic
chiefs with him to Britain, to keep them under personal observation.
Dumnorix, the Æduan, tried to secure common action among all and to
induce the other chiefs not to embark. Only Dumnorix, however, withdrew
when the fleet was about to sail. A party was sent back to pursue him.
When he resisted, he was slain.

The second expedition to Britain was on an unprecedented scale. There
were five legions, two cavalry troops, and an armada of 800 vessels to
carry them. The British tribes withdrew from the coast, and there was
some fighting, as the Romans made their way inland to attack various
British strongholds. Some of the tribes submitted, but the Roman
victories were more apparent than real; the camp around the fleet was
attacked, and as the army returned, it was continually harassed by an
active enemy, who dogged each stage of the march, but refused to come
out and fight in the open. The chief result of the invasion was the
collection of reliable information about the people and their customs.
The island was not occupied or formally conquered for nearly a century.
The captives that were taken were brought over to the continent and
sold as slaves. (54 B.C.)

When the expedition returned, the troops were distributed through Gaul
in winter quarters as camps of observation, not more than a hundred
miles from one another; Cæsar’s own headquarters being at Amiens. The
scene of the first disturbance was in the northeast; a Roman garrison
on the march from one camp to another was cut off, and only a few
stragglers were left to tell the tale. Cicero’s brother Quintus, the
commander of another garrison, was attacked, and no message could be
got through the hostile tribes of the Nervii to tell Cæsar of his
desperate straits. Finally news was carried by means of a Gallic slave
whose master, a Nervian refugee, promised him his liberty if he were
successful.

Cæsar, with one legion and with a division of horsemen, arrived just
in time to save the beleaguered garrison. The Gauls were severely
handled when the Romans pushed through their lines to reach Cicero’s
camp. The news of the relief caused dejection among the other Gallic
tribes, who were about to attack isolated Roman garrisons. Labienus
alone had trouble with the Treviri, but managed to ward off the blow,
inflicting upon them in turn a crushing defeat, and slaying their
leader, Indutiomar. The rest of the winter and summer campaign was
spent in various expeditions directed against the Gallic tribes whose
loyalty was suspected. It was designed to make a special example of the
Eburones, who had cut off the Roman legion the preceding year. They
were doomed to destruction, and the neighboring tribes were invited to
come and enjoy the plunder. Some of those who came preferred to attack
the Romans first, and Cicero’s camp again fared badly by a sudden
raid, made by the Sigambri, a German tribe, who had crossed the Rhine,
invited by the prospect of plundering the Gauls. This mistake confused
the whole original scheme, and it resulted in the escape of the leader
of the Eburones, Ambiorix, an implacable foe of Rome.

When the winter of 53-52 came on, Cæsar’s sojourn in the Cisalpine
province was passed during a season of much anxiety. Rome had been
disturbed by factional fights between Clodius and his opponent,
Milo, in which the popular demagogue met his death. There had been a
drawing together of the senatorial party, and Pompeius, who was now
looked upon as the chief bulwark against anarchy, had been intrusted
by the Senate with extraordinary powers, enabling him to call for a
general levy of men of military age throughout Italy. Julia, the wife
of Pompeius, was dead, and with her vanished the one strong personal
link between the two triumvirs, for Crassus had perished in the East
fighting against the Parthians. The news of the troubles in Italy
spread rapidly in Gaul, causing the restless tribes there to believe
that Cæsar would be kept on the southern side of the Alps, and that,
with the commander-in-chief away, there would be no trouble in bringing
about a successful revolt, provided there were common action throughout
the whole country. The essential condition was to unite all the
Gauls against Roman control, and this had already in a large measure
been accomplished by the king of the great tribe of the Arverni,
Vercingetorix, now at the head of a confederation extending over the
whole of the central part of the country. It was difficult to overcome
the particularistic tendencies of the Gauls, but this new chieftain at
least understood the difficulties and made a brave effort to counteract
them. He showed also a sense of the strategical needs of the situation
by advising the Gauls to make use of their superiority in cavalry and
to cut off the Roman communications; another feature of his scheme was
to lay waste the country and force the Roman garrisons to withdraw as
they were gradually starved out.

A necessary part of the program was the fighting of a decisive battle
on a large scale. Vercingetorix had the men at his command, for he had
won over the Ædui, who from the first had aided the Romans in their
conquests. Cæsar’s plan was to take the various tribal strongholds
one by one; he succeeded in the case of Avaricum, the capital of the
Bituriges. He then sent Labienus against Lutetia with four legions,
while he advanced with six to lay siege to the chief city of the
Arverni, Gergovia. Cæsar’s army was not strong enough for the task; the
plan of attack failed, and the Roman legions were saved only by a quick
junction with Labienus.

The whole army was soon withdrawn from central Gaul in order to
protect the Roman province from attack and also to secure for Cæsar
a position where he could establish a fortified camp, from which it
would be difficult to be dislodged, and where he could depend upon a
regular source of supplies. He selected a place on the Saône, where
he could threaten the Æduan territory and be so protected that it
would be dangerous for Vercingetorix to follow him. On the march the
Romans were vigorously attacked by the Gallic cavalry, but, as they had
with them a detachment of German horse, they were beaten off, and the
Romans quickly turned the tables, pursuing the Gallic army and finally
enclosing it in a hill town, Alesia (Alise Ste. Reine).

Preparations were now made for a long siege. It was a complicated
affair, because Cæsar had to provide against attacks both from the
beleaguered army and from the Gauls, who were hastening to aid their
natural champion. The lines of contravallation were sixteen kilometers
long, those of circumvallation twenty; the space between the Roman army
and the town was filled with artificial obstacles, meant to prevent
the successful use of infantry. The force under Cæsar numbered about
70,000 men and included eleven legions. Cæsar reports that there were
80,000 men imprisoned in Alesia, while to the Gallic relief army is
assigned 250,000 infantry and 8000 cavalry. Probably there were not
more than 20,000 men altogether in Alesia, for provisions were scarce.
This is the number that Napoleon I would give to the inclosed army,
and he further remarks that the relief army in its manœuvering and in
its camping operations behaved as if it were equal, not superior in
strength, to its adversaries.

Cæsar had five or six weeks of leisure before the relieving army
appeared. The first part of the decisive engagement was marked by a
cavalry battle, in which Cæsar’s German horse proved superior to the
Gauls. Then a night attack on the inclosing lines was tried and failed.
A daylight struggle afterwards took place along the weakest part of
the Roman fortifications, Vercingetorix and the relief force making
coincident attacks. The Gauls from the outside were driven off by a
skilfully delivered movement on their flank, executed by Labienus,
which forced them to withdraw, and at the same time Vercingetorix
moved back into the city, and soon recognizing his hopeless position,
surrendered. The fall of Alesia marks the completion of the Gallic
wars. The spirit of the Gauls was broken; there were afterwards various
punitive expeditions, but with the collapse of the great rebellion the
country became pacified and accepted its position as a Roman dependency.




IV THE BREAK WITH POMPEIUS AND THE SENATE


Cæsar’s government of Gaul was now drawing to its close. He had added
to the Roman dominions a territory larger than the two original
provinces assigned to him. The question now was, what next? The
precedents on this point were clear enough; they were written large
in the lives of other recent conquerors, Marius and Sulla. But the
senatorial party had no intention of allowing Cæsar to return to Rome
with a free hand; it was to be a struggle between the self-interests
of a narrow oligarchy and a clear-headed effort to attain personal
control of the machinery of the government. On neither side was regard
for legality given much weight. Both Cæsar and the senatorial party
used without scruple illegal means; both at the same time claimed
hypocritically to represent the side of law and order.

As a matter of fact, the old governmental methods of the Republic were
adapted only to the conditions of a city community with a homogeneous
population. There had been a breakdown years before Cæsar’s time, and
the question now was who should benefit from this chaotic situation.
The senators meant to get Cæsar out of Gaul, reduce him to the ranks
of a private individual, and then ruin him by some legal prosecution
in connection with his eight years of provincial rule. The chief
asset of the Senate was Pompeius’ jealousy of Cæsar as a rival of his
military glory; he was soured because he could not get the position
and the influence for which his early record had marked him out.
Pompeius was proconsul of Spain, according to the arrangement made at
the last meeting of the triumvirs. It was only carried out nominally;
he had no intention of losing his control of Rome, a control which
depended on his presence at the center of affairs. Contrary to all
precedent, he governed his province by means of deputies. He was also
in special charge of the corn supply, a position valuable as a means
of propitiating the people with votes. He arranged to have a five-year
extension of his proconsular power in Spain, and his influence on the
Senate is shown by their willingness to allot him 100 talents a year
for the maintenance of his troops. He used his patronage exclusively
to advance his own personal interests, oblivious of the compact with
Cæsar, showing altogether that, while he meant to stand outside the
law, the chicanery of legislation could well be used to block the path
of his rival.

Cæsar, who had not forgotten to retain the favor of the Roman populace
by entertainments and benefactions, and who had all the skill of a
party boss in retaining the allegiance of friends and followers, had
three very strong allies back of him, leaving aside his natural
superiority in capacity and in shrewdness to Pompeius. His conquest of
Gaul, followed as it was by a very judicious treatment of the conquered
tribes, gave him the support of a warlike population ready to act on
his behalf. Moreover, the reduction of the country had unlocked a
store of wealth, which was naturally in his hands; the slaves alone,
collected from the captives, represented as capital a very large sum of
money. Then there were the seasoned legions on whose loyalty he could
depend.

The rival claims of the two leaders reached an acute stage when
Pompeius, now Consul, passed legislation by which an interval of five
years was required between service as a provincial governor and as a
magistrate in Rome. Cæsar’s term of office expired in B.C. 49; he had
received leave to stand for the consulship and had requested to be left
in possession of his provinces till the end of 49. Now in Pompeius’
legislation there was required, unless special permission were given,
personal candidature, and also the Senate was given authority to
relieve provincial governors at any time during the last year of their
service. Cæsar might find himself relieved of his proconsulship before
he had been elected Consul. It would be a dangerous position for him to
confront a rival armed with extraordinary powers, while he was only an
individual citizen. There were further grounds of irritation because
the senatorial party refused to recognize certain administrative acts
of Cæsar, by which he had extended the franchise to various provincial
towns. In arranging the question of provincial succession there was
much delay. Pompeius hesitated to accept the Senate’s drastic measure,
by which Cæsar would be relieved long before he could be elected
Consul. He made a show of conciliation by shortening the interval and
also by promising to resign his own command before the expiration of
his term if the Senate so desired. Cæsar’s agent in Rome, the Tribune
Curio, displayed much ingenuity in obstructing all measures aimed at
his chief, and it was plain from the way the political game was being
played that Cæsar’s minimum, service as Proconsul till the end of
49, and entrance into the consulship on January 1, 48, would be the
watchword of his partisans. In all other respects he showed himself
ready for conciliation and compromise. When two legions were asked for
the Parthian war, they were promptly sent, and no protest was made at
their being kept at Capua, when they were no longer wanted in the East.
Curio, too, was ordered to cease blocking the vote of money to pay
Pompeius’ troops.

But the senatorial party were not ready to make terms; it seemed to
them that with the co-operation of Pompeius they could place Cæsar
in an _impasse_. They miscalculated his personal popularity and his
military strength, and now were all the more confident, because they
were successfully intriguing with Labienus to detach him from his chief.

The weakness of the senatorial clique was its obvious insincerity in
claiming to be the representative of the party of law and order. It was
absurd to object to Cæsar stepping directly from the proconsulship to
the consulship as an irregularity, when Pompeius had held both offices
together; indeed he had been twice Consul within four years, entirely
in contravention of the required legal interval of ten years between
the holding by one individual of the highest magistracy.

Marcellus, one of the Consuls in B.C. 51, a determined opponent of
Cæsar, brought matters to a climax by denouncing Cæsar in the Senate
as a brigand and asking that he should be called a public enemy unless
he gave up his province by a fixed date. These motions were made as a
result of the debate whether a successor to Cæsar should be appointed;
they were carried by an imposing majority. An equal majority rejected
the motion that Pompeius should be required to resign.

Curio, who had as Tribune interposed his veto on the first motion, then
offered a resolution by which both commanders should be required to
resign. This was carried by 322 to 320, but no effect was given to it;
probably it was vetoed by a Pompeian Tribune. Through private channels,
efforts were being made to prevent a break between the two rivals; on
account of Pompeius’ well-known indecision of temper, the senatorial
clique resolved by a bold stroke to prevent further negotiations.
Marcellus, on the 9th of December, using as a pretext the rumor that
Cæsar was on his way to Rome with his army, tried in vain to get the
Senate to declare Cæsar a public enemy and to authorize Pompeius to
take command of the troops in Italy and protect the state. Indignant
at the timidity of the senators, he took matters in his own hands,
virtually declaring war on his own responsibility, for he handed over
the two Italian legions to Pompeius, with the command to march against
Cæsar. Pompeius, though this action of the Consul was unconstitutional,
accepted the commission; at the end of the month he was still confident
that Cæsar would drop his claim to the consulship and that so peace
would be restored.

Cæsar acted cautiously; he sent for additional troops from Gaul and
also despatched a message to the Senate offering to resign all his
provinces and his army, provided Pompeius would do the same. In case of
refusal, he said he would be compelled to take measures for asserting
his own rights and the freedom of the Roman people. Curio was sent with
this ultimatum to Rome; it was only with difficulty that the letter was
read. A motion was passed that at a fixed date Cæsar should give up his
army and that his non-compliance would be treated as an act of war.
There was, of course, the usual obstruction from Marcus Antonius, a
Cæsarian Tribune; the final decree by which martial law was introduced
and the magistrates called upon to see “that the commonwealth took no
harm,” was not passed till the seventh of January. (49 B.C.) Lentulus,
the Consul, in the meantime had advised the obstructing tribunes to
leave the city if they valued their personal safety. It was this verbal
threat which put in Cæsar’s hands the very useful plea that he was
acting as the defender of the freedom of the Roman people.

The military strength of the two parties was, from the senatorial
point of view, altogether on their side; they had, they reasoned, the
whole empire to draw upon for recruits, while Cæsar had only his own
province. The difficulty of the senatorial position was, that their
forces were not together when the war broke out. Of Cæsar’s original
thirteen legions, two were now under Pompeius’ command; besides this,
the latter had in Spain seven legions of well-seasoned troops; in Italy
he had the two legions already mentioned, which originally belonged to
the army of Gaul; and another in a state of creation.

Cæsar’s chance lay in prompt action, in administering a decisive
defeat before Pompeius could get his scattered men together. While
the negotiations were in progress, he had only one legion in northern
Italy; but two had been sent for, and when they were at hand Cæsar
had, with his allies, about 20,000 men, a force considerably superior
to that of Pompeius, who was especially careful not to lead Cæsar’s
old legions against their former commander. With one legion of newly
recruited men he could do nothing; the consequence was that in Italy
there was practically no resistance to Cæsar’s advance. When some of
the newly created cohorts joined him, the senators with their commander
fled to Greece.

The moral effect of the abandonment of Italy and the capital was a
great asset for the Cæsarian party. The critics have condemned Pompeius
because he failed to relieve the senatorial troops inclosed by Cæsar in
the town of Corfinium in the Abruzzi. It was a discouraging blow at the
very commencement of the struggle for the senatorial party to see their
soldiers and one of their chief partisans, Domitius Ahenobarbus, left
to their fate. But Pompeius was in no position to give help; if he had
attempted to give aid, he would have been defeated and captured.

Instead of pursuing Pompeius across the Adriatic to Greece, Cæsar
turned away to the conquest of Spain. Even if transports were lacking,
he might have doubled round the Adriatic coast through Illyria, his
own province. He might soon have got the control of the entire East
before a sufficient force was collected to oppose him. But if he had
done so, in the meantime Italy would have been exposed to an invasion
from Pompeius’ Spanish veterans, for the senatorial commander would
undoubtedly have betaken himself there and acted on the offensive.
By the time Cæsar could reach Antioch, in Syria, Pompeius could have
occupied Rome. Cæsar therefore consistently followed the principle of
striking at the enemy’s force where it was concentrated and prepared
for effective work.

Several of the legions newly formed from Italian recruits were sent to
Sardinia, Sicily, and Africa as crucial points, from which a descent
might be made on Italy; others were left in Italy itself. Of the
veteran legions from Gaul, three were despatched to Marseilles, which
had taken the senatorial side, and six were taken to Spain. There
were seven Pompeian legions in the peninsula under three different
commanders, Afranius and Petreius in the north, Varro in the south.
Varro, the celebrated antiquarian and scholar, was not an enthusiastic
partisan of Pompeius; there seems to be no reason, except his desire
to be neutral, why he should have weakened the Pompeian forces in
the north by keeping his legions in the south. In any case, the five
legions near the Pyrenees, as if conscious of their weakness, remained
on the defensive, although for a time they were opposed only by two
legions of Cæsar’s.

Cæsar’s force was undoubtedly numerically superior, for there was a
considerable contingent of allies, German and Gallic, both horse and
foot. The plan of strategy adopted by the Pompeians was to keep Cæsar
in check until Pompeius’ preparations in the East were completed, that
is, to wait until he could come to Spain to direct the operations there
in person, or could make a diversion by attacking Italy with the troops
raised in the East. No attempt was made by Pompeius’ lieutenants to
stop Cæsar’s passage through the mountain passes of the Pyrenees. This,
in any case, would have been a questionable operation and apt to cause
a division of strength in the opposing army.

The first point of conflict between the two armies was at Ilerda, 150
kilometers south of the Pyrenees and about forty north of the Ebro.
There was a stream in front of the town, crossed by a stone bridge,
and near this stream, on a height south of the town, the Pompeians
placed their camp. They were well supplied with provisions; and they
commanded the access to the bridge. As the stream had a strong current
and was liable to the sudden changes of a mountain torrent it would
be unsafe for Cæsar to make a temporary bridge to keep in contact
two separated portions of an enveloping army. Cæsar could not afford
to leave this strongly encamped force in his rear, for the way would
be open to them to invade both Gaul and Italy. In case of defeat the
Pompeians might make a further stand, with an advantageous position on
the banks of the Ebro.

For some time the Cæsarian army under Fabius remained inactive before
Ilerda. Two bridges had been built across the stream, but one of these
the current had carried away, and at one time two of the legions
were in considerable danger while they were foraging on the southern
bank. When Cæsar took over the command both bridges had gone, and the
Pompeians, by using the stone bridge, could prevent any further bridge
building. Food supplies from the north were cut off, and the Cæsarians
were hard-pressed for provisions, having exhausted all the food in
the neighborhood of their camp. Cæsar managed finally to relieve
this trying situation by building a bridge outside the range of the
operations of the Pompeians, who never dared to get too far away from
their camp. His next move was to try to cut them off from the city,
their base of supplies, but this failed. They were secure where they
were, but they grew alarmed when some of the native population joined
Cæsar’s forces; there was also a prospect of a period of low water in
the river, when Cæsar could use a ford and so completely envelop them.

Under such conditions they resolved to abandon their camp and retire
to the Ebro to make there another stand. The retreat was accomplished
without much difficulty, except from cavalry attacks, which delayed
their progress toward the river, which they would have reached five
miles south of Ilerda. They had covered most of this distance when
Cæsar’s legions suddenly appeared ready for attack. In spite of the
difficulty of crossing the stream at Ilerda, Cæsar’s men with great
valor had braved the dangers of the swift current and had marched
with such rapidity that they caught up with the Pompeians before
sunset. Afranius and Petreius soon found themselves outmanœuvered by
their opponents, the way to the river being closed to them. The only
alternative now was to fight or surrender. After some hesitation,
perhaps due to divided counsels in their own camp, they abandoned the
attempt to reach the Ebro and returned to their original camping ground
at Ilerda. (August, 44 B.C.)

Cæsar, in the meantime, held his hand, though his soldiers earnestly
wished for a pitched battle under such favorable circumstances. It was
a civil war, and Cæsar had no taste for the kind of butchery practised
on the barbarians in Gaul on so many occasions. The Pompeian commanders
soon capitulated; the best force of his opponents had now by Cæsar’s
superior strategy been put out of action, as effectively as if it
had been beaten on the battlefield. Such a victory is practically
unique in military annals. The Roman army at Trasimene and at Cannæ,
the Prussians at Jena, and the French in 1870-71 were annihilated as
military units, but only after hard-fought battles.

Cæsar in this brilliant campaign of forty days deprived his antagonists
of an entire and efficient army without striking a blow. He was all the
time ready to fight, and the absence of a battle was due to the fact
that the commanders on the other side were completely out-generaled.
The operations followed one another with the system of moves on a chess
board. The losing party saw the uselessness of a fight and the victor
had no desire to shed blood needlessly.

Easy terms were imposed upon the vanquished; the only conditions
made being that Afranius and Petreius should dismiss their troops on
the way back to Italy. Varro, in southern Spain, who had none of the
temperament for command, and who was waiting to see which was the
winning side, soon found himself deserted by the provincials; even
Gades, where he had contemplated making a resolute stand, declared for
Cæsar. The most serious feature of the campaign in the West was due to
the obstinate resistance of the people of Marseilles; they held out
for several months and surrendered only when they were exhausted by
pestilence and famine. With this siege ended, Cæsar was free to return
to Italy.

In general, the first stage of the war was in favor of the Cæsarians;
Sicily had been abandoned by Cato, and the only dark spot on the record
was the decisive defeat in Africa of Curio, who had unwisely attacked
the Pompeians near Utica while they were being aided by a Numidian
king. On the way to Rome Cæsar had to handle a case of mutiny in one
of the legions, the ninth. The soldiers complained of the strict
discipline under which they were kept, as no plundering was allowed.
A signal example was made of them, for the whole legion was disbanded
and the men only taken back on condition that they gave up their
ringleaders. Of these one in ten were taken by lot and executed.

During his residence in Rome, in the interval between the first and
second stages of the war, Cæsar was returned as Consul for the coming
year (48), after serving a few days in the extraordinary capacity of
Dictator. Some new legislation was passed, extending the franchise to
provincial populations, and an effort was made to relieve the financial
situation produced by the civil war. Money was scarce, interest was
high, there being, owing to the general uncertainty, a good deal of
hoarding of specie; but nothing was done to encourage the wild rumors
of a revolution after the Catiline model, under which there would be
a general cancellation of debts. Practically the whole administration
of civil affairs was in the conqueror’s hands. Only a few senators
were left, most of them having fled to Pompeius’ camp in Greece, where
their presence was a considerable annoyance to their leader, who found
in them inveterate critics and grumblers, anxious to give advice on
military matters of which they were supremely ignorant.

Cæsar’s undivided authority was useful to him; before he left Italy he
had his consular powers enlarged and the city could be left without
fear, as his own partisans were in control. Cæsar’s Spanish victory
had given him, on land, decided superiority over his opponents. He had
now, in addition to the eleven old legions, seventeen new ones, mostly
composed of Pompeian troops, who had transferred their allegiance as
the fortune of war had changed. Two had been lost in the disaster in
Africa under Curio. About half of his whole strength, twelve legions
and 1000 horse, he collected together at Brundisium, intending to sail
from that port and meet Pompeius’ army in Epirus. The rest of his
forces were scattered about in Italy, Sicily, Gaul, and Spain.

To oppose to the Cæsarian main army, the senatorial party had only
eleven legions; two of them had originally served under Cæsar, the
rest were recruited in the East or were old units filled out by fresh
additional soldiers. Pompeius’ chief hope, after the defeat of his
army in Spain, lay in the possession of a superior sea power. In this
respect he had decidedly the advantage, for besides the Roman fleet
there were the ships of the dependent Eastern states, while Cæsar’s
ships in the Adriatic had been either captured or destroyed. Cæsar had,
it is true, ordered new ones, but he had no seagoing population to draw
from, to secure sailors. Marseilles, it will be remembered, had taken
sides with Pompeius and had only been captured with difficulty.

When Cæsar reached Brundisium, he found there were not enough ships
there to transport his army to the Greek coast. He adopted, however,
the bold plan of using what transports there were, and so, taking
advantage of a favorable wind, carried half his available force, seven
legions and a corps of cavalry, to the other side. The whole operation
took only from twelve to fifteen hours. Pompeius had not brought
his land force to the coast of Epirus, and his fleet, as it was the
winter season, had not counted on Cæsar’s making the passage at that
time. Yet when Cæsar landed, the situation was anything but favorable
for him; Pompeius’ army had reached the principal harbor of Epirus,
Dyrrhachium, and his fleet had destroyed part of the transports and
was keeping vigilant watch to intercept the rest, if they attempted to
leave Brundisium with the legions which remained there. Cæsar was cut
off from his base, but Pompeius dared not attack him, though his army
was numerically superior. The two armies faced one another in inaction,
Pompeius waiting for reinforcements, and Cæsar hoping that there would
be a chance for the rest of his army to join him, although the way
through Illyria was impracticable, the country being mountainous and
the population of uncertain loyalty.

On the other hand, the attempt of the Pompeian fleet to blockade
Brundisium failed. After waiting two months, Marcus Antonius succeeded
in making the passage, at a time when weather conditions made it
impossible for the enemy’s ships to interfere with the landing. With
this accession of strength, four legions and additional cavalry,
Cæsar’s force was now superior to that of his opponent; but Pompeius
was strongly intrenched on the shore, close to a city well supplied
with provisions, and by means of his fleet, in communication with the
rest of the world.

The problem of supplies on Cæsar’s side was a difficult one, since
the neighboring country was nearly exhausted. It was probably this
reason which induced him to divide his force by sending some three and
a half legions into the interior of the country, partly to intercept
a Pompeian relieving army under Scipio, and partly to operate in
Greece itself with a view of winning adherents for his cause. With the
remainder he proceeded to inclose Pompeius’ camp, not so much to force
a capitulation, which seemed hopeless because at any time they wished
the Pompeian fleet could carry the army away, as to produce a moral
effect on the Pompeians, who would be dispirited everywhere, when they
learned that their leader was not acting on the offensive.

The siege operations proved calamitous; Cæsar’s veterans suffered
a severe defeat, and in some places the lines of the inclosing
fortifications were destroyed. The other side, elated by victory, were
now prepared for a decisive battle. This hazard Cæsar declined to take;
instead of this he gave his troops time enough to recover from the
effects of their defeat and then moved off from the coast, taking the
road to Thessaly in order there to join the other detachments of his
army, who were occupied in trying to force Scipio to an engagement.

He was soon followed by Pompeius, and the great pitched battle of the
year took place on the plains of Thessaly. The two sides were far from
being evenly matched; probably Pompeius had 40,000 legionaries and
3000 cavalry, while under Cæsar there were 30,000 legionaries and 2000
horse. When the armies came in sight of one another, there was some
preliminary manœuvering to get the advantage of a favorable position,
but finally Pompeius advanced some distance from his camp on level
ground, and Cæsar, who was about to march away rather than attack under
unfavorable conditions, decided to give battle. Pompeius’ right wing
rested near a brook with precipitous sides. Relying on this to protect
his flanks, he placed the light-armed infantry and the cavalry, under
the command of Labienus, on the left wing with directions to make a
vigorous onslaught on the troops opposed to them. If the enemy gave
way, they were then to attack the legionaries on the sides and rear; in
the meantime, Pompeius’ own legions were ordered not to advance but to
await, where they were, the attack from the other side. It was hoped
that Cæsar’s men would be in confusion before the hand-to-hand conflict
began, as the distance they would have to traverse was greater than was
usual in the battles of this period.

Probably all of Cæsar’s cavalry were disposed in such a way that they
faced the opposing cavalry. In order to compensate for his inferiority
of numbers in this arm, he had trained some of his best legionaries
to fight interspersed with the cavalry, after the practice among the
Germans. The cavalry were separated, too, by a division of 3000 men,
and behind his whole order of battle there was a considerable reserve
force. It was to be supposed that, even without the assistance of this
last support, his seasoned veterans would withstand the enemy for a
long time. This expectation was all the more likely to be realized,
just because of Pompeius’ orders that his own infantry were to be held
back from engagement and should maintain their own ground, while his
cavalry were at work.

The battle opened with the cavalry charge on the Pompeian side. Cæsar’s
German and Gallic horse, as they were instructed, withdrew, and as soon
as the Pompeian horse followed them, the 3000 men placed previously
to support them, attacked the Pompeian cavalry in the flank. This
manœuver was immediately followed by a quick action on the part of
Cæsar’s cavalry. They swerved about, attacked in their turn those who
had just been pressing them, and forced them back in confusion. There
was not time enough for Pompeius now to get together a mass of infantry
to protect his cavalry. The hand-to-hand conflict immediately began,
Cæsar’s whole force of infantry throwing themselves on the opposing
legionaries, who now no longer had the support of their cavalry. The
pressure on the front and sides was too much for the Pompeians; first
the left wing gave way and then the entire army. (August 8, 48 B.C.)

The crucial feature of the whole battle was Cæsar’s skilful disposition
of the 3000 men, placed, as some authorities describe it, in a kind
of ambuscade. It was this that upset the whole plan of Pompeius’
massive cavalry charge. The intelligent manœuvering of the Gallic and
German horse, first giving way, then returning to charge superior
numbers, is an illuminating illustration of the discipline prevailing
in all arms of Cæsar’s force. The close of the battle was followed
by the occupation of the Pompeian camp. The commander himself fled
in deep dejection from Greece, and met his death by an assassin’s
hands, when landing from a boat on the coast of Egypt. As a military
leader he had proved himself in this war unimaginative and sluggish.
He was a master of the technique of warfare, but failed to make use
of his opportunities; he seemed to have worked out his own campaign
in advance, and to have followed the scheme with deliberation, but in
other respects he was resourceless, both when the advantage was his own
and when the enemy made mistakes.

With two very much reduced legions and a few horse, Cæsar pursued
his rival to Egypt, where he was too late to take him alive. But the
factional contests in Egypt as to the royal succession and perhaps,
too, the desire to get his hands on the Egyptian treasury, induced the
conqueror to use this opportunity of asserting Roman sovereignty over
the dependent kingdom. It proved to be a rash step, for the Egyptians
were fanatically attached to their autonomous position, and Cæsar’s
small force was in great danger, not only from the Egyptian army, but
also from the turbulent Alexandrian populace, who tried and almost
succeeded in shutting him up in part of the city, and in preventing
supplies and reinforcements coming to him by sea. At times the Romans
were in great danger; there were furious combats in the city and in
the harbor, and it was not till many months had passed that Cæsar was
master of the situation. It took all the resources of his versatile
genius to hold out until large enough reinforcements came from the East
to bring the Alexandrians into subjection.

The whole winter after the battle of Pharsalus was spent in this way,
and when the war was over in March, there was three months more delay
in Alexandria, owing, it was said, to the fascination exerted over
the conqueror by the famous Egyptian queen, Cleopatra. During the
summer preparations were made for an extensive expedition throughout
the Farther East with a small body of men, the design being to pacify
the Oriental provinces. This proved not very difficult; most of the
problems were solved by diplomacy and only one battle was fought, that
of Zela, in Pontus, with Pharnaces, king of Pontus, who had taken
advantage of the civil war to try to set up an independent rule over a
large part of Asia Minor.

While Cæsar was absent in the East, his cause in the West had been
far from successfully handled by his lieutenants. The Pompeian fleet
had given great trouble on the Italian coast and in the Adriatic Sea.
Affairs in Spain had been hopelessly muddled by a corrupt and tyrannous
governor, who angered the provincials and got into trouble with the
native tribes. In Rome the victory at Pharsalus had been followed
by great activity on the part of the Senate and popular assembly in
heaping additional honors on Cæsar. He was made Dictator with virtually
unlimited powers. The administration, so far as any semblance of
legality was concerned, seemed to have gone to pieces, while Cæsar
was having his troubled experiences in Alexandria. No provision had
been made for filling up the magistracies, and the conduct of affairs
fell into the hands of an irresponsible agitator, Dolabella, Cicero’s
son-in-law, who prepared a social program containing, as its chief
items, canceling of debts and remission of rents. There were serious
riots in the city, the mob becoming so powerful that even the Cæsarian
Senate had to call on Marcus Antonius, Cæsar’s chief local lieutenant,
to suppress the violence by the use of military power.

When Cæsar arrived in Italy from the Orient, there was much to be done
and not much time in which to do it, because all the irreconcilable
partisans of Pompeius, trusting in the help of the Numidian king, Juba,
had gathered in Africa, where, since the defeat of Curio, they met with
no opposition in their control of the country. During Cæsar’s stay in
Rome, there were various measures passed, some to relieve the financial
crisis, others to provide against disturbances of public order, while
political rewards had to be distributed to his followers in the way
of nominations to the Senate, or by the creation of additional places
among the magistracies. On account of the government’s embarrassments,
there was a resort to the policy of forced loans, both from individuals
and from communities. The private property of Pompeius and some of his
adherents was sold at public auction, a questionable proceeding which
gave rise to a good deal of unpleasant jobbery among Cæsar’s friends,
who bought the property in, and then, depending on their influence with
their all-powerful master, tried to evade payment. (47 B.C.)

More serious than these matters of local politics was the sullenness of
Cæsar’s troops, which developed into open mutiny when they were ordered
to make ready for the coming campaign in Africa. They refused to budge
until the promises of money and land made them before the battle of
Pharsalus were strictly carried out. Cæsar dealt successfully with
the situation; he had no cash to give them, but he discharged them,
calling them citizens and not soldiers, and assured them at the same
time that all of their demands, with back interest, would be paid as
soon as he returned from Africa to celebrate his triumph. The veterans
were placed in a dilemma; they could not turn against Cæsar, for their
hope of reward lay in his success. Most of them were taken back as
volunteers for the African campaign. Before leaving Italy, Cæsar again
arranged to become Consul for the year 46, at the same time making
arrangements for the distribution of provincial charges. One assignment
was especially noteworthy: a pardoned Pompeian senator, Junius Brutus,
nephew of Cato, at the time in arms against Cæsar, was appointed to
Cisalpine Gaul.

A year and a half had passed since Pompeius’ defeat at Pharsalus, but
his cause was being energetically upheld in Africa, where his partisans
were making a final stand. It was here that Scipio, Labienus, Cato,
Afranius, and Petreius gathered together with the forces that remained,
ten legions in all, no inconsiderable force in itself; but there
were besides a large contingent of well-trained cavalry and heavy-
and light-armed troops, supplied by Juba, king of Numidia, who was
implacably hostile to Cæsar’s cause, and who meant to use the divisions
of the Romans for the purpose of carving out for himself an independent
kingdom. The only danger point, apart from an attack from Italy, lay
further west, where the two Mauretanian kings, Bocchus and Bogud, acted
together as a check to the power of the Numidians. They were able to
carry out their policy intelligently, because they had the help of a
Roman adventurer, Publius Sittius, suspected of being an accomplice of
Catiline, and for this reason an enemy of the remnant of the senatorial
party in Africa.

Cæsar landed in Africa in December with only a small force, and for a
time he had to maintain himself in an intrenched camp on the coast. His
six legions were made up of raw material, and it was impossible for
him to take the offensive, until his veterans, who had been sent for,
arrived. The situation was saved by Sittius, who made a diversion in
the West, and so drew off Juba to the defense of his own kingdom. Among
the provincials, the Cæsarian cause began to be popular, for they saw
in it a protection against the nationalist schemes of Juba. Moreover,
the Roman aristocratic commanders had treated the population of the
province with scant consideration, so there were many desertions to
Cæsar’s side. Owing to the incompetent strategy of his opponents, who
do not seem to have known how to handle their fleet, communications
with Italy were kept open. It was Cæsar’s purpose, after the veteran
legions arrived, to compel Scipio to give battle. This he refused
to do, until his hands were forced. When Cæsar began the siege of
the important seaport town of Thapsus, Scipio was obliged to come to
the rescue, and a pitched battle was fought early in April, in which
the Pompeian force was completely routed. Cæsar’s troops occupied
the enemy’s camp, and despite the entreaties of their commander, a
wholesale butchery by the legionaries followed the fight.

The campaign was soon completed. Utica, where Cato commanded the
garrison, surrendered, after their leader, seeing the ruin of his
cause, had committed suicide. Scipio perished at sea, Varus and
Labienus succeeded in making their escape to Spain. Even Juba was
ruined by the misfortunes of his allies, for his own subjects rejected
him on his return, and he and Petreius met deaths by suicide. After
setting the affairs of Africa in order, and annexing the kingdom of
Numidia as a province, Cæsar returned to Rome after an absence from the
capital of 180 days. (46 B.C.)




V CÆSAR SUPREME


With his return begins the period of Cæsar’s full autocratic power in
the largest sense of that term; honors extraordinary were heaped upon
him and the whole machinery of government was in his hands. He was
perpetual Tribune, and so might check all legislation which did not
meet his approval. Moreover, he was made sole Censor, which position
included not only the guardianship of manners and morals, but also gave
him authority over the composition of the Senate, and the even more
valuable supervision of contracts and financial affairs. Besides this
there was the dictatorship and the consulship. No opposition could come
from the religious side, for he was Pontifex Maximus and a member of
all the religious colleges.

His position was not so novel as the way he used it. Sulla also had
established personal autocratic rule, and Pompeius, who was looked
to by the conservatives to preserve republican government, had been
completely oblivious of constitutional traditions when they clashed
with his interests. Cæsar did not abdicate as did Sulla, nor did he
hypocritically veil his purposes as Pompeius had done. There was much
ostentatious display in the way of triumphs, festivals, games, and
largesses, to celebrate the conqueror’s victories, nor were deeds of
cruelty absent in the Gallic triumph. Vercingetorix, who had spent
six years in a Roman dungeon, was put to death in accordance with
old-fashioned republican brutality.

Some citizens felt disgust at the extravagant expenditure of the
autocrat, but this kind of discontent was not so deep as the resentment
caused among the upper classes by the introduction of a virtual
monarchy. Their point of view is vividly presented in Cicero’s
correspondence during the closing years of Cæsar’s rule. He suffered
all the more intensely because he had to belie his own principles and
live on friendly terms with the man who had destroyed his ideals and
robbed him of his chances of political distinction. Cæsar advanced
oblivious of criticism, safe in the possession of uncontested powers.
There were many things to do, and there was nothing to which he
hesitated to set his hands. It was not a time to follow the maxim,
“quieta non movere.”

Among the most difficult problems was the allotment of land to the
discharged veterans. The plan followed was not to establish them in new
colonies, but to incorporate them in existing communities. Apparently
private rights were respected, for no serious complaints are recorded.
A much-needed reform was taken in hand when Cæsar, using his power as
Censor, reduced the number of those who received the dole of corn from
320,000 to 150,000 persons. Equally creditable was the extension of
the Roman citizenship to non-Italians, special classes being chosen
for this privilege, such as medical practitioners and teachers. Other
measures were economic, such as the restoration of customs duties,
or had a social aim like the attempt to extend free labor where
slaves were commonly used. Municipal administration received special
attention, rules being made for the maintenance of streets and lanes,
for the control of wheeled traffic, and to prevent public ground from
being occupied by the erectors of stands and platforms.

In general, the exceptional position of the city of Rome was not
preserved; rather, provincial towns were organized after the model of
the imperial metropolis. Probably it was this bold step in reducing
Rome to the level of other towns, a proceeding strictly in harmony with
Cæsar’s consistent and established policy of equal and fair treatment
to the provinces, that led to the idle bit of gossip that he thought of
transferring the capital to the East, to Alexandria or Troy. Criminal
legislation was stiffened by adding to the recognized sentence of
exile forfeiture of property as a penalty. Care was taken that Roman
citizens should not travel abroad for a lengthy period, a provision
probably intended to protect the provincials from the presence of needy
individuals who would make use of official favor for questionable
financial schemes. But perhaps the most striking of all these measures
from the personal point of view was a law restricting the tenure of
provincial governorship. There were to be no more chances open for a
series of campaigns under one leader such as Cæsar had waged in Gaul.

Under this personal government there was little place for a Senate
except as a registering body, and Cæsar did not always allow it to
perform even this humble function. It came to have a make-believe
existence. Decrees were drawn up in its name that had actually never
come before it, and the conqueror’s unpopularity with the Senators was
increased by the introduction of new members, who had no aristocratic
traditions to maintain.

As an example of the versatility of his mind, no better one can be
given than the fact that Cæsar’s work in bringing order out of chaos
was extended to reorganization of the old Roman calendar, under which
the year lasted only 355 days, and attempts were made to make the
solar and civil years coincide by the occasional introduction of an
intercalary month, a process often guided by political or superstitious
motives. Since experienced scientists from Alexandria were called
on as experts, Cæsar’s reformed calendar of 365-1/4 days with an
intercalating day every fourth year was sufficiently accurate to stand
for centuries, and with a slight correction is still in use in the
civilized world.

The machinery of legislation, important and sound as it was, was not
entirely depended upon to reveal the whole policy of the ruler. Cæsar
is said to have explained in his public speeches that his ideal was not
a despotism, but the paternal rule of a father over his children. He
tried to live up to this standard, making a noteworthy display of doing
so by his generous treatment of his adversaries during the period of
the civil war. Some of his most truculent enemies were pardoned by an
act of grace, a treatment which induced Cicero to try his hand again at
the kind of decorative oratory he had displayed in his early panegyric
on Pompeius. Popular as this clemency was, it did not shelter Cæsar
from severe criticism when he renewed his amour with Cleopatra, now
summoned to Rome, it was said on his invitation, and it was supposed
that he was about to marry her, a foreign queen, as the first step to
the attainment, by regular process, of regal power for himself.

Invincible as Cæsar was in war, and conciliatory as he was to those who
had served against him, there was still a body of Pompeian partisans in
Spain, Labienus and Cnæus Pompeius among them, who felt that there was
reason for resistance and a chance of success. Cæsar’s governors in
the peninsula had proved incompetent either to hold the loyalty of the
provincials, or to prevent the mutiny of the troops when the Pompeian
leaders appeared on Spanish ground. All they could do was to clamor
for their leader’s presence. He left Rome hurriedly in December, 46.
This, his last campaign, was conducted with an army inferior in numbers
to that of his opponents. It was an arduous struggle, characterized
by conspicuous barbarity on both sides, for neither depended on Roman
legionaries alone. The Pompeians had native allies and liberated
slaves, and both sides were helped by auxiliary troops from the wild
tribesmen of Mauretania. After winning and taking the town of Cordova,
Cæsar forced the eldest son of Pompeius to fight a pitched battle at
Munda. (March 17, 45 B.C.)

The two armies met here in a life and death struggle, Cnæus Pompeius
appealing to his men to avenge his father, while Cæsar’s veterans,
responding to the battle cry of Venus the Victorious, the patron
goddess of the Cæsarian house and its mythical foundress, made it
plain that the cause for which they fought was also a personal one.
Neither side could look for quarter; Pompeius had already shown his
temper by cruel dealings with the provincials who had opposed him,
and Cæsar’s men were not likely to deal mercifully with those who had
rekindled the flame of civil war and so deprived them of a well-earned
peace. Both in attack and defense each side showed equal bravery and
obstinacy. For some time the issue seemed dubious; Cæsar to rally
his own men had to take sword in hand and engage in the thick of the
struggle. Finally, when the Pompeians made a change of their order to
help the wing of their army which was being hard pressed by the tenth
legion, the movement gave the Cæsarians a chance to put their opponents
in confusion and finally to flight. On the Pompeian side 30,000 are
reported to have been slain; among the dead were Labienus, Cæsar’s
right-hand man in the Gallic campaign, and Cnæus Pompeius himself, who
escaped from the field but was taken and put to death afterward.

Before the return to Italy the affairs of the Spanish provinces
had to be set in order; special favors were distributed to the
loyal communities in the way of franchise or immunities, and this
reconstructive work seems to have been accompanied by financial
exactions. The return to Italy was not made until September, and
for a whole month Cæsar remained outside the walls of Rome. To mark
the victory at Munda there was nothing tangible to do in the way of
increasing the autocratic power of the supreme and all-embracing
magistrate and executive; there were, however, no visible limitations
to the servility of the Senate and Assembly. Fifty days’ thanksgiving,
yearly games commemorative of the victory, special distinctions of
dress, extraordinary honorific titles, a state residence on the
Palatine, built after the model of a temple of the gods; special
statues in holy places connected with communal worship, all these were
voted, and most of them accepted by the conqueror.

After the Spanish war, gold and silver coins were minted, having on
one side the laurel-crowned head of Cæsar, with the inscription Cæsar
Imperator, and on the reverse the figure of conquering Venus, lance
in one hand and on the other a Victory. The conqueror was now treated
as being beyond the ordinary human standard. This recognition of
superhuman qualities is made plainer in an inscription, placed under
a relief of Cæsar (introduced on a metallic map of the world), which
reads, “he is a demigod.” The Oriental idea of deification, opposed
as it was to the whole genius of government in Rome, was now adopted
there. With Julius Cæsar began the custom of deifying the supreme ruler
of Rome, and it is significant that, although he refused a ten-year
consulship, he did not protest against this use of religion for the
purpose of adulation.

Now that the supreme authority was unassailably placed in the hands of
a single individual, who was protected in its exercise from any legal
opposition in Rome, Cæsar showed no hesitation in taking the full
responsibility of his position. The Western provinces had for some
time been practically under his personal control. He was virtually the
founder and the creator of the Roman Empire in the West. The foundation
laid by him lasted for hundreds of years. But as military lord of
the Roman world he had also to deal with the situation of the East.
There especially the extension of the Parthian rule was dreaded, and
also anticipated, for the moral effect of the defeat of Crassus a few
years before had been immense. Cæsar saw that a war in the East could
alone restore the prestige of Rome, and also that it was not safe to
leave the conduct of such a war in other hands. His plan was first to
conquer the Parthians, and through their territory to reach the Caspian
Sea. Afterwards by the way of the Black Sea he meant to march along
the Danube, where there were wild tribes which had to be taught to
respect the power of Rome, and finally to return to Italy by the way
of Germany. Such was the mighty program now developed in the vision of
the conqueror. In its details it bore the marks of the bold imagination
and the political sagacity which characterized his genius, but the
immediate necessity was to bring the Parthian war to an end, and so
restore confidence on the Eastern frontier. After the return from
Spain the transfer of the bulk of the Roman army to the East was being
prepared for.

It was in connection with this purpose that there first arose,
apparently, the idea of conferring on Cæsar the title of king. It
was said that an oracle of the Sibylline Books had declared that
only a king could get the better of the Parthians in war. Such a
designation was especially antagonistic to Roman political principles;
personal rule was tolerated, but not divine right by family descent.
Some preparations had been made for the introduction of this alien
conception by the act of the Senate, according to which the title
“Imperator,” associated directly with the name of Cæsar, should pass
to his legal heir. The road to a succession being now marked out, the
whole question of the title could not long be left undecided. Imperator
was locally understood, but made no claim on subject races. To test
popular feeling, Marcus Antonius offered the Imperator a diadem, the
insignia of royalty. This was refused, but it was noted that the offer
did not call forth the enthusiastic response that was anticipated, nor
was Cæsar’s rejection of the symbol openly deplored. Still, the desire
for some accommodation with the terms of the oracle was not abandoned.
It seemed possible that in Rome Cæsar might bow to public opinion by
employing only the title of Imperator, while in the provinces he could
exercise royal powers and use the royal title. It was supposed that
some arrangement of this sort would be made by a regular decree before
he set out for the Parthian campaign.

Opposition was bound to develop at this point from the convinced
republicans in the Senate; they were strongly represented there, and
Cæsar was responsible for their presence. He had gathered about him
men of both parties, making a special effort by his generosity to win
over some of the most convinced of the senatorial partisans who had
followed Pompeius and had fought the victor to the end of the African
campaign. But even Cæsar’s own appointees and adherents were by no
means reconciled to the program which would openly do away with the
republic; they wished it still to exist as an institution, and they
had no wish to provide for the continuance of personal rule beyond the
terms of Cæsar’s own life.

The party of Pompeius was by no means inactive; they wrote freely as
apologists for their own side, and they did not hesitate in their
intrigues to hold up Cæsar as an ambitious autocrat guilty of cruelty
on the battlefield, and now that peace was restored, using his claims
to mask his aim to establish a tyranny. These views were found among
the Senators. Cæsar either thought he was unassailable or reckoned on
their gratitude as an obstacle which would separate their theory and
their practice. This attitude was only one example of a general want of
alertness that seemed to characterize the conqueror after the close of
the Spanish campaign.

All the old republican antipathies against royalty were called into
life. Cæsar’s statue was now seen on the capitol between the figures
of Rome’s ancient kings. Another statue, that of Lucius Junius Brutus,
the founder of the republic, recalled to men’s minds the quick and
ready method of dealing with kings and tyrants. This old-fashioned
republican doctrine was not lost on a disciple and nephew of Cato,
Marcus Brutus, who had made peace with Cæsar after the battle of
Pharsalus. He claimed to be a descendant of the famous liberator, and
by this very fact had influence in heading any movement against the new
autocratic system. His personal abilities were of a mediocre order; but
he was obstinate and self-consciously vain of his integrity, and could
be paraded as a concrete argument to strengthen the republican cause,
when others might hesitate to take extreme steps.

But the real motive power in the organization of the conspiracy against
Cæsar was found in Caius Cassius, also holding prætorian office like
Brutus. The two had not before been friendly, although both were
partisans of Pompeius. Cassius, with his dark and gloomy temperament
and sarcastic tongue, was not likely to accept the sententious
pomposity of his brother Prætor at that high standard of value exacted
by Brutus from his friends. What drew them together was their common
republican sympathies. Brutus was asked by Cassius what would be his
attitude at the next meeting of the Senate when the question of the
royal title would be discussed. Brutus replied that he would not be
present. Cassius said that Brutus’s position as Prætor imposed upon him
the obligation of attending the meeting. At this Brutus answered that
if he went he would defend the cause of liberty.

Such was the basis of the understanding between the two, and the
agreement for common action was accepted, not only by the remnant of
the old Pompeian party, but by those as well who called themselves the
partisans of Cæsar. Even Caius Trebonius, who had served the cause of
Cæsar in the city and on the battlefield for many years, agreed that
the freedom of the Roman people was to be preferred to the friendship
of an individual. He had once before spoken plainly to Marcus Antonius
of Cæsar’s ingratitude and of the misfortunes of the republic, but
had found no sympathy. Another of Cæsar’s companions in arms, Tullius
Cimber, felt personally injured because the commander had exiled his
brother.

Both sides had grievances. The Pompeians were not to be won by tactful
treatment to accept Cæsar’s schemes, while his own followers often felt
that their allegiance had secured no more favors from him than the open
enmity of his former opponents. All experienced the common pressure of
an exalted and unlimited authority, and were prepared to act together.
The exact details of the conspiracy are obscure; they must have been
arranged between the 15th of February and the 5th of March, on which
date the Senate was to be called together in a building erected by
Pompeius, to decide whether Cæsar was to be allowed to bear outside of
Rome the title of king. The conspirators were at one against accepting
such a proposal.

Cæsar seemed not to realize his danger, since he paid no attention to
the warnings that came to him. His mind was filled with the prospect of
the Eastern war. Everyone realized that another victory would render
all opposition unavailing. The conspirators would have to act before
Cæsar could set out for the new campaign. In the plan to be followed
the leading Senators were all accomplices. The way would be easy,
provided Cæsar’s fellow Consul, Marcus Antonius, who could be relied
upon to defend him, were prevented from coming to the Senate. Trebonius
was to see that Antonius was detained and kept occupied elsewhere,
while another of Cæsar’s friends of long standing, Decimus Brutus,
undertook the necessary persuasion of the dictator should the latter
hesitate to come to the Curia.

Cæsar, as had been arranged, took his seat in the consular chair; the
place next his was vacant, his colleague not being present. There was
no time to be lost, for Marcus Antonius might appear at any moment.
Tullius Cimber, showing much vehemence, drew near to the Consul, making
a plea for the return of his brother from exile. As Cæsar hesitated,
the prearranged signal for the murder was immediately acted upon.
Cimber with both hands tore apart Cæsar’s toga; at the same time Casca
aimed at his neck a blow which glanced and struck the breast. Cæsar
appears to have thought that it was only an act of personal vengeance
from which he could protect himself. He sprang to his feet, snatched
his toga from the hands of Cimber, and threw himself on the arm of
Cassius, at the same time defending himself with the stylus of his
tablet. He was strong and active, and might have got the better of his
two antagonists, but as he turned on Casca he received a wound in the
side, then several others from the conspirators as they closed in upon
him. No one of the Senators, whom he had created, came to his help. All
was over in a moment, for he made no further resistance when he saw
the arm of Marcus Brutus, specially bound to him by personal favors,
raised to strike. He fell at the feet of the statue of Pompeius, his
body pierced by twenty-three wounds. The corpse was brought back to his
dwelling by three slaves in the litter in which he had been carried to
the Senate. All the rest of his retinue of clients and friends had fled.

The assassination, its method of accomplishment, and the men who
planned and carried it out, bound as all of them were by some kind of
obligation to the conqueror, can hardly win sympathy even from those
who hate autocratic rule, and think the man who destroys a democracy
beyond the law. The conspirators had not the personal character of the
traditional tyrannicides of Greece. There is something of a pose in
the whole action. Brutus and his fellows were representing a clique
and cannot be called in any sense the executors of the will of the
people. It would have been more fitting if the old precedent followed
in the legendary expulsion of the former kings of Rome, banishment,
had been adopted here. After all, Cæsar was giving the Roman empire a
better kind of government than the Senatorial oligarchy. The cause of
the conspirators was weak, and the men who carried it out, as events
soon showed, were even weaker than their cause. Only verbally were the
interests of republicanism represented by the murderers of Cæsar. The
Senate and People of Rome existed as they had done of old; but the
elements in each were different. In the people of Cæsar’s days there
was nothing that resembled the ancient community of the plebeians.
Military expansion had long since destroyed the old civil constitution;
the assemblies in the Forum were legal only in name, for they disguised
the irregularities of mob rule, giving opportunities for violence
and corruption on the largest scale. Even the Senate was virtually
a new creation filled with Cæsar’s enemies and certainly incapable
from its membership of preparing a genuine restoration of republican
institutions. It had stood, even before the civil war, at a time when
the oligarchy of wealth and descent had recovered its lost ground
through the patronage of Sulla, for governmental inefficiency.

The one man with genius and creativeness adequate to restore a
practical republican government was Cæsar himself, and to him
republican ideals meant nothing. He was a realistic statesman, who saw
the road to monarchy as the short cut to good government, and took it
unhesitatingly. At no point in Cæsar’s career is there any evidence
that he believed in anything but personal rule. Alike skeptical of
higher appeals and with a contempt for shams, he never wavered at any
stage in his well-planned pursuit of autocratic power. His fight with
the Senatorial oligarchy, who alone blocked his way, was conducted
with the directness of a military campaign. There was little personal
feeling, for he treated men as pawns, whether they were friends or
enemies. When their power to help or to oppose him was gone, they
were of no significance; so, at the close of the civil war, it was
easy to exercise a clemency or a patronage which meant little. There
was a superficial amiability in these acts which indicated a contempt
of individuals rather than spontaneous humanity. His cold, clear-cut
character seemed to work out problems in a bloodless atmosphere alike
free from prejudices and from prepossessions.

Cæsar’s benefactions and his enmities were alike self-centered. The
whole force of a nature extraordinarily versatile and incessantly
active was turned to one end, and the various stages of his political
career are explained by the closing years of his life. It was his
purpose to overthrow the Senatorial aristocrats. The purpose was a most
worthy one, and it is difficult to see how it could have been done
except by extra-legal means, for the Senatorial faction made the laws,
and so held all the cards in their hands. Their motto of government
was “Heads I win, tails you lose”; and the claim of legality with
such a leader as Pompeius, who had no respect for the constitution,
was altogether disingenuous. Cæsar was a shrewder politician than any
member of the Senatorial faction, far more brilliant in conception
and far quicker in action than his rival Pompeius. After clearing the
field of his opponents, he showed less creative capacity than in his
preparatory work.

Of course, the time was short between his murder and the close of the
last campaign in the civil war, but the government he established
was a kind of sham republicanism after the Sullan model, only with
a different center of gravity. He seems to have planned a better
system of administration, and meant that it should be worked in a way
regardful of the public interests of a great empire; but the machinery
was to remain the same, except that the various magistracies were
either to be held by himself or filled by men of his own selection. The
shadow of republicanism was to cover a monarchical rule, and in this
respect the conservatism of Cæsar was epoch-making, for it continued to
influence the whole genius of the Roman imperial system for centuries.

As a general Cæsar was fortunate in having at his command an army which
represented the result of years of technical training acquired in the
almost continuous campaigns of the Romans. He did not have to create
his army; the material for his conquests was ready to hand. He added
nothing new to the art of war as it was already known, but the legion
under him had a commander of great versatility, who understood how to
use it to the best advantage under any given conditions. This genius
in providing for the maintenance of his army repeatedly gave him the
advantage over the enemy in the Gallic wars, for it enabled him to
defer the decisive engagement until all conditions were favorable for
his own side.

Another characteristic of his strategy was his skill in using fortified
camps. He was a born engineer, and the engineering feats of his
campaigns are evidently recounted with great satisfaction in his
“Commentaries.” It is evident that they played a decisive part in
securing success both during the Gallic campaigns and in the civil
war. Indeed, one of the most important contributions of the Romans to
the art of warfare was superior technique in fortifications, and in
protection of camps, aided by which the defensive of a numerically
smaller force could be made to balance the offensive of superior
numbers. The sole method of overcoming such resistance was by starving
out the army placed in a fortified camp. In his campaigns Cæsar showed
remarkable versatility in using the argument of hunger as well as the
argument of the sword, and he was quick to turn from one to the other
as occasion required.

He seems never to have burdened himself with a pedantic following of
rules. Plutarch tells us he had read the accounts of Alexander’s great
victories. So far as his own “Commentaries” are concerned, there is a
studied vagueness, which, as has been mentioned, often leaves important
points in obscurity. He is very sparing of giving personal reflections
on the progress of the war he is describing. It is noteworthy,
therefore, that he once blames Pompeius for repressing the enthusiasm
of his troops, saying that it is the general’s business to encourage
the emotional element in battle.

He is also fond of calling attention to the rôle played by fortune or
chance, and so he has been often blamed for the risks he was willing
to take because he trusted too much to luck, and it is said that he
conducted warfare in the spirit of a gambler. Like Napoleon, he appears
to have believed in his star, but the references to fortune in the
“Commentaries” are probably a literary device intended to impress
a popular audience who, though they had lost belief in the gods of
polytheism, were ready to recognize an incalculable and mysterious
element in human life.

But there was in his strategy more than a spontaneous brilliancy
adequate to rescue him from the difficulties of a position he had not
anticipated. In his campaigns we see evidence enough of caution and
calculation. Especially in the matter of numerical superiority he was
careful not to allow himself any hazards in a decisive engagement.
The battle of Pharsalus is the only one in which it is certain that
he won a victory with an army inferior in numbers to his opponent. In
this case nothing else could have been done, for Pompeius, who was in
control of the sea, would have removed his army from Greece if he had
been outnumbered. There was but one way of forcing a pitched battle
under these circumstances, and it was part of superior strategy to
induce an enemy relying on superior numbers to confront troops superior
in quality. But such chances Cæsar only took when obliged. There was
little of the bravado element in his wars. The situation was outlined
beforehand. The almost mathematical result bears witness to the
presence of that same type of cool reflection which in the political
side of his career makes the founder of the Roman Empire something of
an enigma. It is hard to believe that a man can be just as unfeeling
and unethical in statesmanship as when he is directing the movements of
masses of troops. Cæsar’s genius stands for an abnormal development of
intellectual power disciplined to serve the ambitious purposes of a man
bent on enjoying personal rule, who, to a unique degree, had measured
the capacity of other men and himself.

       *       *       *       *       *

CHARLES THE GREAT




I INTRODUCTORY


Out of the chaos in Western Europe due to the collapse of Roman
provincial rule in the fifth century, there came into being various
Teutonic states. They all bore the mark of the early tribal
organization of the German peoples and took up the work, more or less
successfully, of assimilating the orderly elements and traditions
of Roman polity. In the Italian peninsula the permanence of these
political creations was short-lived, except in the case of the
Lombards, who maintained an enduring rule, largely because they adhered
to a crude policy of isolation and set well-considered limits to their
desire for expansion. In Spain, the Goths, despite the predominance of
the Roman provincial element, succeeded, with the help of the Church,
in attaining a fairly centralized organization for several centuries
until it was swept aside by the irresistible pressure of the Moslem
conquest. To the North, in France, which was first of all the seat of
various Teutonic peoples, the Franks, under the astute leadership of
their tribal monarchs, gradually absorbed all the territory of the old
Roman province of Gallia, adding to it the land to the east which had
been the home of their ancestors before they had crossed into the Roman
province.

Chlodvig, the founder of the Merovingian line of kings, was not a
ruler of the type of Theodoric the Ostrogoth. In contrast with the
Teutonic kingdoms of Italy and Spain, the Merovingian showed a stubborn
conservatism. After Chlodvig’s death there was no man of first-rate
ability during the period of Merovingian rule with the dubious
exception of Dagobert. These were long years of division, lawlessness,
and bloodshed. The Franks kept possession of their conquests, but
the royal line produced a succession of weak and helpless rulers who
showed themselves incapable of casting aside the traditions of tribal
rule. The demand for centralization was recognized and met by the
representatives of the noble family of Heristal who, because they
were landlords over wide estates, became, as mayors of the palace,
_de facto_ possessors of sovereign authority. To them the Frankish
chieftains throughout the land looked for leadership, and did not
look in vain, for their efficient statesmanship soon arrested the
disintegrating tendencies of Merovingian rule, and gave their people
such an amount of cohesive strength that they became the foremost
representatives of Teutonic power in Western Europe. It was the House
of Heristal which saved the Franks from the fate of the Visigoths,
for it was Charles the Hammer who met the Moslem host on the field of
Poictiers and swept them back across the Pyrenees.

Charles’ son, Pippin, carried on the work of his father; he was strong,
courageous, and cautious, a thorough type of the opportunist statesman,
willing so far as he was concerned to control his people under the
title of Mayor of the Palace, while the titular dignity of king was
kept intact in the Merovingian family. The bloodless revolution which
made Pippin a monarch _de jure_ from a ruler _de facto_, was due to
outside pressure, and this pressure came from the See of Rome, which
appealed to him for help as the representative and most powerful
Catholic leader in Western Europe after the Emperors at Constantinople
had alienated the population in Italy by the part they played in the
Iconoclastic controversy.

The Popes of the eighth century, seeing the inability of the Eastern
Empire to protect its Italian possessions, and unwilling to give them
support against the aggressions of the Lombards, were face to face with
a difficult problem. They did not wish to be absorbed in the Lombard
kingdom, and were just as much afraid of seeing any restoration of
power to the hands of the Emperor’s representative, the Exarch of
Ravenna.

Pope Stephen played a bold stroke of genius when he crossed the Alps to
ask the ruler of the Franks to save the religious capital of Western
Christianity from capture at the hands of the Lombard kings. Nor was
his political sagacity yet exhausted, for he persuaded the Mayor of
the Palace to regularize his own position by taking the title of king
under the sanction of the Holy See. This was an ambitious design,
unprecedented in the earlier pages of Papal history. Even Gregory the
Great had no thought of bestowing the royal crown on any Teutonic
tribal chieftain. The action was evidently suggested by the plan
prepared some years before, when, with the coöperation of the Pope, it
was proposed to revive in Italy a native Italian emperor to lead the
people of the Peninsula against the church policy of Constantinople.
This scheme was from the beginning a forlorn hope, and it had turned
out to be a failure. There was not sufficient military strength in
Italy, apart from the Lombards, to back up a revived Emperor of the
West, and it is clear that the Lombards would have made short work of
any such ruler, even if there had not been among the Italians a party
who looked up to the Exarch of Ravenna as the natural head of their
civil government.

The negotiations with Pippin ended successfully. The Pope’s prestige
was enormously increased. Instead of looking forward to becoming the
captive of a Lombard king, he became himself the bestower of royal
dignity on a man who had at his disposal such vast military power that
the passage of his army across the Alps into Lombard territory brought
about the reduction of the Lombard kingdom to a status of dependency on
a Frankish ruler.

Pippin, as a loyal churchman, followed the Pope’s counsel, but he
seems to have done so with distinct reservations. The traditional
Frankish policy had been the complete subordination of the Church
to the State. It is no wonder then that many of the Frankish nobles
disapproved of Pippin’s act, which reduced their monarchy to a gift
from the hands of the Pope. Pippin did all he could during the rest
of his lifetime to keep clear of further Italian complications. He
never crossed the Alps again, and he was very careful not to depress
the Lombard power in Northern Italy and so give Stephen an excuse
for demanding additional territory. As a temporal ruler the Pope’s
authority had been substantially increased by the cession of lands
which he had claimed from him on the basis of the so-called Donation
of Constantine--a fictitious instrument which Stephen appealed to
when there arose the question of the disposition of the territory
once belonging to the Exarchate of Ravenna. According to the legend,
Pope Sylvester, the contemporary of Constantine, when the capital of
the Empire had been removed to Constantinople, had received from the
Emperor extensive donations of Italian territory, both on the Peninsula
and on the adjacent islands, over which he was to rule with the power
of a temporal sovereign. To Pippin, this legendary Donation, because of
its presumed sanction at the hands of a revered Emperor and Pope, was
sacred. He was willing to be an instrument in carrying out the terms of
the sacrosanct compact, but he refused to go farther than this, and for
the rest of his life he maintained an attitude of reserve in according
additional favors to the Holy See.

Pippin’s reign came to an end as calmly as though the line of descent
had been unbroken. Even the evil traditions of the Frankish monarchy
with respect to the inheritance of the crown were not cast aside. Just
as Cromwell and Napoleon felt the weight of custom in their relations
with the members of their families, when they were arranging to
perpetuate the power of their own creation, so Pippin, the diplomat,
the cautious statesman, could do, or at least did nothing to alter
the bad and impracticable tribal custom of division of patrimony.
This practice caused the downfall of the Merovingian line, and had
started the revolution by which the fortunes of the House of Heristal
had been assured. This is only one of many anomalies which followed
the breaking up of the administration of the Roman Empire, and which
testified to the absence of initiative on the part of the Germanic
peoples when they were called upon to solve problems of government, for
which they had had no preparation. Rulers who did not hesitate to show
their individuality in other ways proved fearful of violating tribal
customs on questions of divisions of property and family precedence.

The new line of Frankish rulers had apparently learned nothing from
the vicissitudes of the elder house. At the death of Charles Martel,
the division of the kingdom between his two sons would have certainly
endangered the sovereignty of his family had not the difficulty been
averted by the abdication of Carloman the elder. Yet Pippin, on his
deathbed, had not scrupled to make the same blunder of dividing the
realm between his two sons, Charles and Carloman. Almost immediately
after their father’s death the heirs, apparently mutually suspicious,
separated from each other, and had themselves separately proclaimed
kings by the Frankish nobles, and received anointment at the hands of
the bishops, Charles at Noyon, Carloman at Soissons.

The diplomacy of the dead ruler was revealed in the kind of disposal
he made of his realm. It was an equal division only on paper; for the
arrangement of the shares was such that the elder son was left with
such manifest superior advantages as to territory that the younger
brother could not venture to compete with him. As his share Charles
had the part of his father’s kingdom from which the Frankish hosts
derived their chief military strength, viz.: the lands from the Main to
the English Channel. Besides this, he received the western portion of
Aquitaine, the province whose conquest had cost Pippin a hard struggle
of seven years, and which, therefore, might become a dangerous center
of warlike enterprise if it were placed entirely in the hands of the
younger brother. Carloman had as his share the Suabian lands on both
sides of the upper Rhine, and the entire Mediterranean coast from the
Maritime Alps to the frontier of Spain. In addition to this there came
to him the eastern half of the territory adjacent to such towns as
Clermont, Rodez, Albi, and Toulouse.

In geographical extent there was but little advantage on the part of
the elder brother, but the territory of the younger from a military
point of view was far inferior. Carloman in case of war would have
against him, under the command of Charles, the whole military power
of the Franks. There was no pretense of friendship between the two
new rulers; it seems they had never been friendly. The reason of the
alienation may have been because the birth of Charles preceded the
formal transfer of the Frankish crown to his father. He was, therefore,
the son of a Mayor of the Palace, while Carloman, though younger, was
son of the King of the Franks.

The question of the duration of external harmony between the brothers
was of especial importance in its effect on the situation in the
Italian peninsula. Some of the Frankish nobles had by no means approved
of Pippin’s policy of opposition to the Lombard kings, and had
criticised his willingness to protect the integrity of the dominions of
the Pope, whenever he was appealed to from Rome for aid. The efforts
of the Queen Mother Bertrada were evidently intended to promote a
better feeling between the Franks and the Lombards, for she personally
arranged a marriage between Charles and the daughter of Desiderius, the
Lombard king. The protests of the Pope were unavailing when he urged,
from a decidedly interested point of view, that Charles should marry a
wife from his own people; although he recalled the oaths taken, when
the two Frankish rulers were children, that they would have the same
friends and the same enemies as the Church.

The whole situation, political as well as personal, was suddenly
changed by the death of Carloman in 771, and by domestic difficulties
in Charles’ own household which led to an alienation from his mother
and caused the repudiation of his Lombard wife. Immediately after his
brother’s death Charles was acknowledged as sole king throughout the
Frankish territories, and the alliance with the Lombard party in Italy
was brought to an end. Gerberga, Carloman’s widow, and her sons betook
themselves to the court of Desiderius, which now became a natural
refuge for all who were discontented with the new ruler of the Franks.




II CONSOLIDATION OF RULE


In the meantime, Pope Stephen, the man who had made the Frankish
alliance the cornerstone of papal diplomacy, had died. (772.) He was
succeeded by Hadrian, who proclaimed his purpose to follow the rule of
peacemaker in the complexities of Italian politics, and so to induce
Romans, Franks, and Lombards to live in mutual harmony. Despite his
pacific intentions, he was unable to tolerate the military aggression
of the Lombards on the cities in the Patrimony which had been turned
over to the Pope by Pippin, including Ravenna itself.

Papal protests against this invasion proved useless. Desiderius
threatened to appear with his army before the walls of Rome itself,
and he actually approached as close to the city as Viterbo, having in
his army the young heirs of Carloman, whose claims to their father’s
inheritance he wished to have legitimatized by having them anointed
by the Pope. He was deterred from carrying out his plan, and the Pope
met the daring of the Lombard leader with a formal warning, that the
king and all his host would be placed under the ban of anathema if they
entered the territory of Rome. Desiderius therefore withdrew.

To the Frankish delegates who appeared in Rome to investigate the
condition of affairs between the Pope and Desiderius, Hadrian probably
explained that his difficulties had been occasioned by his refusal to
anoint the pretenders, Carloman’s sons, at Desiderius’ request. There
would not be wanting, also, appeals to Charles to fulfil his solemn
engagements to stand by the Roman See. Desiderius, in his interview
with the envoys, treated them curtly; he was evidently looking forward
to settling the issue with Charles by arms. There was not only the
difference with the Pope, due to Lombard aggression on the papal
cities, but he must have felt aggrieved because Charles had refused to
live with his daughter. There was also the fact that at the court of
the Lombard king, Carloman’s children had been received and were being
used in the rôle of pretenders, as tools in an intrigue against the
ruler of the Franks.

Desiderius had prepared for invasion from the North by fortifying the
pass at Susa, the “débouchement” in northwestern Italy of the road
regularly taken by the Frankish army when they invaded Italy. But
while methods of military defense were being looked to, Desiderius
saw the need of preparing for the coming struggle by consolidating
his rule over his adherents and dependents. The important Duchy of
Benevento was allied with him by the bonds of family relationship. The
Duchy of Spoleto was less important, as it had lost in territory and
in independence during the reign of Desiderius, but means were taken
to conciliate the Church by gifts to important abbeys. Indeed, so
numerous were these alienations of the royal lands to ecclesiastical
foundations, that the king’s policy in annexing cities and territories
in the Patrimony of the Pope had become as much an economic as a
political necessity, for the owners of the alienated land could only in
this way be compensated for their losses. The abbeys were of strategic
importance; many of them, and these the largest, were situated on
the inner lines of communication. The cities and castles were still
surrounded with their Roman walls, and under the Lombard monarchy the
many roads and bridges had been kept in order.

On the other side of the Alps, there was less unanimity as to the
necessity of the Frankish army passing the frontier. Charles’ plan
of intervention was agreed to by the Frankish nobles, though the
opposition against an Italian expedition had always before in Pippin’s
day had a strong backing. But, in order to show a temper amenable
to compromise, Charles offered to continue peaceful relations with
Desiderius, on condition that the sum of 14,000 solidi be given as an
indemnity to the Franks. This offer was refused. A general assembly of
the Frankish host was held at Geneva by Charles, and after dividing it
into two parts, the army passed over into Italy by Mont Cenis and by
the Great St. Bernard. Again Charles stopped to treat with Desiderius,
but to no purpose.

The Lombards withdrew from their strongly fortified position where
the Alpine passes widen out into valleys, and it was rumored that the
Frankish army, aided by Lombard treachery, had found by-paths to avoid
the strongly held Lombard camps and had marched down into the plain
after Charles had stayed some time at Novalese, an abbey richly endowed
by his family, where he took provisions for his march.

In the meantime, Desiderius had fled to Pavia, his capital, preparing
for a long siege. Most of his army was now scattered; a portion of it
retreated, accompanying his son Adalghis, with the widow of Carloman
and her children, to Verona, the strongest of the Lombard citadels.
But the Lombard resistance was most ineffective; the Beneventines
apparently took no part in the wars, while the people of the Spoletan
duchy, deserting their duke, took the oath of allegiance to Hadrian,
and many places in central Italy surrendered to the Pope.

Charles began the siege of Pavia at the end of September, purposing
by the capture of their chief city to end completely the dominion of
the Lombards, and so to finish the work left half done by his father.
Leaving the bulk of his army in front of the walls of Pavia, he took
a division of Frankish troops and entered Verona without opposition.
Adalghis fled to Constantinople. Carloman’s wife and heirs were now in
the hands of the conquerors.

There was no longer fear of opposition from other Lombard towns. The
siege had already lasted six months, but the town was well provided
with food, and was too strong to be taken by assault. Charles now
left the siege with a large escort in order to celebrate the Easter
festival at Rome. He was the first Frankish sovereign who had visited
the city. Pippin, his father, notwithstanding his close alliance with
the Church, had always scrupulously avoided making the pilgrimage
to Rome, probably because he did not desire to pass through Lombard
territories.

Charles was received with the honors ordinarily given to the Exarch of
Ravenna. As he entered St. Peter’s, the choir sang the anthem, “Blessed
is He that Cometh in the Name of the Lord,” and there were many public
demonstrations of friendship between the Pope and the King. But it
is worth noting that Charles asked the Pope’s permission to enter
the city, and great care had to be taken to prevent acts of violence
between the residents of the city and the visitors from the North.
The most important step taken before Charles left the city to return
to Pavia, was the formal transfer to the Pope of a document signed by
Charles and his nobles, authorizing the retention by the Pope of the
existing patrimony of the Holy See, and also engaging that all private
property belonging to it should be restored.

Pavia held out stoutly, though sorely tried by famine and pestilence;
but there was no hope of relief. Finally, Desiderius surrendered
his capital and his person at the beginning of June, 774, and with
this surrender the independent Lombard monarchy ends. Charles, from
this time forth, took the title of King of the Lombards. The Lombard
chieftains crowded into the city to do him homage, and when he crossed
the Alps, he took with him Desiderius and his family, not forgetting
the royal treasury of the Lombards.

Charles had been mindful of his obligations to the Pope, and regarded
himself as bound to carry out the policy of his father. But he plainly
had no thought of turning over any large share of the territory of the
Italian peninsula into the hands of the Roman See. In Rome it seemed
to be expected that the friendly and generous ruler from across the
Alps would make Hadrian master of the whole of middle Italy. But now
that Charles was ruler of the Lombards he showed that in dealing with
the Italian situation he did not intend to be guided by idealistic
politics. Charles also put an interpretation on his title of Patrician
that made it clear he meant to be the predominant factor in the states
under the Pope’s control. He behaved as master in cases affecting the
Pope’s territory when Hadrian’s rights over Ravenna were resisted
by the Archbishop of that city; and he also exercised his sovereign
authority over Spoleto when the Duke rose in revolt against the Franks.




III THE CONQUEST OF THE SAXONS


While Charles’ intervention in Italy may be considered as the logical
outcome of the policy inaugurated by his father, his long struggle with
the pagan Teutonic tribes, spoken of loosely by contemporary historians
as the Saxons, was part of a program of expansion for which he alone
was responsible. Dwelling in a territory extending from the Elbe, on
the East, nearly to the Rhine, on the West, the Saxons in three tribes
formed a primitive confederation occupying the various divisions of
Germany known in modern times as Hanover, Brunswick, Oldenburg, and
Westphalia. Beyond the Elbe there was a fourth section of the Saxon
stock extending over a territory nearly coextensive with the modern
Duchy of Holstein. Though the name suggests a plausible identity,
the Saxon territory of the eighth century had no connection with the
present kingdom of Saxony, which only to a small extent comprises
land that once belonged to these ancient Saxons. Though unlike their
kinsfolk to the West, the Saxons held to their old tribal creed,
they were in no sense savages, for they had long since abandoned a
nomadic life and had become settled tillers of the soil. But probably
the primitive institutions of the Germans described by Tacitus still
existed among them, and, from the point of view of the Franks, they
must have seemed undesirable neighbors, largely because of their
obstinate attitude toward all attempts to convert them to Christianity.
As the missionaries who undertook the task were either Franks
themselves or acted under the patronage and support of Frankish rulers,
the feeling toward the Saxons was anything but friendly, especially
as since the time of the Merovingians on several occasions the Saxons
had recognized the Franks as their overlords, by paying tribute. It is
probable, too, that the Saxons were not very scrupulous in respecting
the frontier of their Western neighbors. There must have been frequent
raids to annoy the Franks, though there is absolutely no proof that the
Saxons ever contemplated invading Frankish territory by expeditions
organized on a large scale. The situation had, however, been serious
enough to call forth active intervention from Charles’s father
Pippin, who, in 753, had advanced as far as the Weser, where, by an
overwhelming display of military strength, he had forced the Saxons to
pay tribute and not to oppose the preaching of Christian missionaries
in their territory.

Five years later, in another expedition, Pippin advanced beyond the
Weser, occupying the Saxon strongholds between that river and the
Lippe, and again securing from the Saxon chiefs promises that the terms
on which peace had been made should be carried out.

The religious conditions of the peace were especially obnoxious to
the Saxons, who were firmly attached to the faith of their fathers.
They had a simple form of nature worship, that displayed itself in a
passionate reverence for trees and mountains, regarded as the concrete
expression of the powers governing the world. The new expedition of
the Franks practically took the form of a crusade; for Charles saw in
the gods of the Saxons only demons inimical to the Christian faith.
Starting from Worms and accompanied by a large number of ecclesiastics,
who were to war against Saxon paganism, the Frankish army, seemingly,
met not resistance, and Charles took and destroyed without difficulty
the Saxon shrines Irminsul and Eresburg. He withdrew, satisfied
now that there was no hindrance in the way of winning the land to
Christianity. The character of the expedition is accurately indicated
in a brief sentence from the life of Sturm: “He [Charles] gave the
servants of the Lord power for teaching and baptizing.”

The Saxons, before the Franks retired beyond the Rhine, renewed
the terms of peace previously concluded with Pippin, gave hostages
for their good behavior, and seemingly made no protest against the
introduction of the Church hierarchical system in their land. But
the war with the Lombards gave the Saxons the opportunity of casting
aside their pledges; they did not desire Frankish ascendancy, and,
still less, Christian missionaries. The real situation on his Eastern
frontier was so patent that as soon as the Italian expedition had
ended with the annihilation of the Lombard kingdom, Charles (775) set
out to war on the Saxons, resolved either to force them to accept
Christianity or to destroy them as a people. His attack was skilfully
and rapidly managed; one of their strong places, Sigiburg, was taken,
and Eresburg, previously captured, was turned into a Frankish citadel.
The Saxons hesitated to strike back until the Franks were withdrawing
across the Weser. Near Brunisberg, where they contested the passage of
the Frankish army, the Saxons were outnumbered and decisively beaten.
Marching with picked troops Charles advanced into the territory of the
Eastphalians, where their leader, Hessi, hastened to take the oath of
fidelity to the Frankish monarch and gave hostages. The same method of
forcing a capitulation was tried successfully with the Saxon tribe, the
Angarians.

But meanwhile, the Westphalians had assaulted the Frankish camp in
their land, and had been able to occupy it partially. They were forced,
however, to withdraw, and while they were retreating they were met by
the division of the Frankish army under Charles, and were defeated; so
they were obliged to accept the same terms as the Eastphalians and the
Angarians. Within a short period the overlordship of the Franks had
come to be recognized by the three leading tribes of the Saxon people.

It only needed the outbreak of fresh disturbances in Italy to show
how imperfect had been the so-called pacification of the Saxons. When
Charles was drawn away beyond the Alps by an attempt to revive the
Lombard kingdom, his absence was immediately taken advantage of by the
Saxons, who rose in revolt against the Franks. Even the fortress at
Sigiburg was hard pressed. An imposing army was gathered by Charles
at Worms in 776, with which he crossed into Saxon territory and
again occupied Eresburg. His authority was soon restored. Bands of
Saxons comprising whole families came to the Frankish camp as humble
petitioners and willingly allowed themselves to be baptized. There were
evidently two parties among the Saxons, one willing to carry out the
conditions of peace, the other ready by any subterfuge to reject them.
The irreconcilable faction finally lost heart and withdrew.

In 777, Charles held in Paderborn his first general assembly; here
appeared Saxons from all parts of the land and solemnly pledged
themselves willingly to give up their freedom and their property if
they denied the Christian faith and broke their oath of allegiance. But
such verbal assurances were not more binding than they had been before.

More expeditions (779 and 780) were necessary, and in 780 specific
steps were taken to intensify the ecclesiastical organization already
felt as a burden by the unwilling converts. The land was divided into
parishes, and provision was made for systematic preaching and for the
administration of baptism.

Along with the expansion of the Church, the secular organization of the
Franks went hand in hand. The country was placed under the supervision
of counts, the leading Saxon chiefs being appointed to the positions.
In one of the capitularies assigned to this time, the slightest
deviation from Christianity is treated as a most serious crime. The
murder of a deacon is punished by death, while an assault on a count
only entails confiscation of property. Similar severity is exercised
against those who are guilty of sacrilege, who break into churches, or
who violate the rule of fasting.

There seemed to be a fear at this time lest the popular Saxon leader,
Witikind, who had failed to appear at the assembly, might organize a
pagan revival, and so head a successful revolt against the Franks.
This fear was realized, for the drastic character of the new religious
legislation only provoked the opposition it was designed to meet.
Witikind soon returned to his people and quickly organized a revolt.
The character of the struggle showed itself in attacks on the Christian
missionaries, and in the destruction of the newly erected churches,
the places selected for bishoprics and abbeys suffering most. This
insurrection was for a time successful, and a Frankish army, through
the divided counsels of those who were leading it, was defeated and
forced to retreat. But the personal appearance of Charles on the field
was enough to turn the tide and was followed by the defeat of the
Saxons and by pacification according to the familiar terms.

The question was what to do with those who had taken up arms. It was
decided to put to death all who had united with the heathen against
the Christians. This merciless penalty was applied in its fullest
rigor. Those who were taken captive in the revolt numbered in all four
thousand; and of these, five hundred were beheaded at Verden, a savage
act of retaliation which disgraces the memory of Charles, and which
even the crudeness of the times cannot excuse. Besides, it did not
accomplish its purpose, for it only embittered those who were related
by kin or by friendship to the massacred Saxons. The revolt against
the Franks hitherto had never been universal, but now the whole people
rose en masse with sudden determination. Yet even with this temper
they were not hardy enough to take the offensive; so, while they were
preparing to resist, Charles, by a quick movement, surprised them, and
divided their army by his unexpected onslaught. But the first battle,
though unfavorable to the Saxons, was not decisive. The second ended
in a complete victory for the Franks, who took many prisoners and much
booty. The backbone of Saxon resistance was now broken, and Charles
with his army marched through the whole territory as far as the Elbe.

In all these Saxon campaigns, three victories stand out above the rest,
dividing the monotonous levels of revolt, conquest, and pacification.
The first, at Brunisberg, opened a way into Saxon territory for the
Frankish army; the second, at Bocholt, brought about the suppression
of a partial insurrectionary movement; the third, on the Hase, settled
the fate of paganism in Germany. But the state of the Saxon country
required constant watching, and we find Charles taking up his station
at Eresburg in 784-85, ready to repress any incipient movement of
revolt.

At Paderborn the Frankish assembly was attended by the Saxons, and
this meeting was signalized by further extreme measures to protect
the Church. The defenders of their independence met with all the more
harshness because they were sturdily loyal to a primitive ancestral
faith. Charles saw in them only worshipers of evil spirits,--men who
are charged in the capitularies with the practice of offering human
sacrifices and with eating human flesh. In his ruthless dealings with
the Saxons, Charles was the champion of a higher civilization fighting
against a lower, but one must at least question the legitimacy of his
policy, specifically because it claimed Christian aims and professed
Christian sanction. But we know it seemed righteous in Charles’ own
eyes, and his satisfaction was increased when he received, after
the long military campaigns were over, the Saxon Witikind, and his
companion in arms, Abbio, as voluntary converts to the Christian faith.
With his baptism (785) Witikind drops into obscurity, and we only hear
that his descendants became known for their loyalty to the new religion.

From 785 to 792 the Saxons did not stir; they sent regularly their
assigned contingents to the army of the Franks, and they took no part
in the Bavarian troubles. However, at the beginning of the expedition
against the Avars in 793, there was a fresh revolt, marked, as the
previous ones had been, by the destruction of churches, the massacre of
priests, and the return of the people to idolatry. From 794 to 799 the
Franks under Charles were busy each year in enforcing Frankish rule in
Saxon lands by a specially thorough military occupation of the country.

Further drastic measures of pacification were required, for whenever
Charles returned West to his own domains, he took with him a large
contingent of the conquered people, men, women, and children. Lands
were given them, and so the natural racial traits of Saxon unity were
destroyed and their fidelity to paganism broken. It is estimated that
a third of the population was removed, and the extent of this enforced
emigration may be judged from the fact that in 804 ten thousand men
were deported from two districts of Saxony and their land given
over to some of Charles’ Slavic allies who had rendered efficient
services to him during these wars against their hereditary enemies.
The Saxons gave up the fight only when their strength was broken, and
when the last adherents of paganism yielded to superior force. Only
then was the country from the Elbe to the Atlantic under the sway of
a single sovereign, and united by the profession of the same faith.
The conquered land was effectively occupied, and the loyalty of the
inhabitants to Charles’ empire was secured by the establishment of
three richly endowed bishoprics, Bremen, Münster, and Paderborn, under
whose supervision the work begun by the Frankish armies was completed.




IV OTHER MILITARY ACHIEVEMENTS


The struggle with the Saxons lasted thirty years in all, and its
completion brings us almost to the end of Charles’ reign. In order to
close our survey of the military operations by which the integrity of
the Carolingian Empire was preserved, or its frontiers enlarged, it is
necessary to take up the narrative of various warlike expeditions and
operations which demanded the ruler’s attention while the Saxons were
making their heroic struggle to cast off the Frankish yoke.

Hardly two years after the destruction of the Lombard monarchy, there
was such unrest in the small Duchy of Friuli, which was ruled over
by Hrodgaud, that a punitive expedition was needed to restore order.
Apparently Hrodgaud was intriguing with other Lombard leaders to
procure the restoration of the exiled son of Desiderius and so to
reëstablish Lombard independence. The project failed. Hrodgaud’s allies
among his own people withdrew support. Adalghis, the “pretender,” did
not leave Constantinople to head the revolt, consequently the Duke of
Friuli was obliged single-handed to meet the avenging Frankish army.
The revolted cities were soon captured; Hrodgaud himself appears to
have lost his life on the battlefield, and after this short campaign,
which took place in the early months of 776, Charles crossed the Alps
in June to take up again the conquest of the Saxon lands.

This Lombard revolt, although it was an incident, and involved only
a small territory, was followed by stringent measures of repression.
Paul the Deacon, the Lombard historian, tells of the treatment of his
brother, who, it seems, took part in this insurrection. “My brother
languishes a captive in your land, broken-hearted, in nakedness and
want. His unhappy wife, with grieving lips, begs for bread from street
to street. Four children must she support in this humiliating manner,
whom she is scarce able to cover even with rags.”

Much more serious than this outbreak among the Lombards was the
disaffection of Tassilo III, Duke of Bavaria, who resented Charles’ aim
to turn a nominal suzerainty into an effective control. United closely
to the Frankish ruler by a common descent from Charles Martel, Tassilo,
whose family, the Agilolfings, had governed Bavaria for two hundred
years, had no mind to sacrifice the autonomy of his people. Even under
Pippin he had showed that he placed a very loose interpretation on
the ties of vassalage which bound him to the Franks. After Charles’
accession he continued his policy of isolation, showing by his failure
to render assistance in the campaign against the Lombards that he
did not recognize any obligation to further the ambitious schemes of
his overlord. During the revolt of Friuli he observed an attitude of
neutrality, an act which, coming from a vassal, could signify only that
the Duke of the Bavarians claimed an independent position. Such a claim
Charles was in no mood to allow. In 780, during one of the intervals in
the progress of the Saxon conquest, Charles, accompanied by his wife
and his sons, Carloman and Louis, spent Christmas at Pavia, the Lombard
capital, and in Easter, 781, visited Rome, where the royal children
received baptism at Pope Hadrian’s hands, and were raised by the
ecclesiastical ceremony of anointment to the royal dignity, Carloman
taking the title of King of Italy, and his brother Louis, that of King
of Aquitaine. During this stay at Rome, the relations of Tassilo to the
King of the Franks were discussed by Charles and the Pope. The result
was that a joint deputation was sent from both Charles and Hadrian
to Bavaria to remind its ruler of his obligations as a vassal of the
Frankish kingdom. Tassilo soon after appeared personally at Worms to
renew the oath previously sworn to Pippin. Hostages were exchanged on
both sides, but the tension continued. We find Tassilo, a few years
later, in 787, sending representatives to Rome in order to secure the
Pope as an intermediary to establish an agreement with Charles and put
an end to the mutual irritation of both parties. The terms offered by
the Bavarians were not regarded as acceptable by the representatives of
Charles, and the Pope himself solemnly appealed to the Duke to fulfil
his promises as a dependent ally and so avoid the evils of war.

After his return from Italy Charles held his court at Worms and
summoned Tassilo before him as the first step in acknowledging the
overlordship of the Frankish monarch. In the eyes of Charles, swift
dealing with a disobedient vassal was all the more necessary, because
Tassilo, by his marriage with the daughter of Desiderius, might easily
make himself the center of a revival of pro-Lombard feeling in Italy.
Three Frankish armies from different quarters invaded Bavaria, and
Tassilo soon found himself forced by this display of superior strength
to give up his dreams of independent power. He formally resigned his
duchy and received it back again from Charles’ hands, at the same time
taking an oath as vassal and giving hostages, among whom was his own
son. But not long after this Tassilo, who complained openly that his
position of dependence was insupportable, was charged by members of his
people with intriguing with the Avars. He was accused of treachery, and
was condemned to death by legal process. But the sentence was reduced
by Charles’ intervention to imprisonment in a monastery. His wife and
children met a like fate, and from this time on Bavaria was treated
as Frankish territory. Like Saxony, it was divided into jurisdictions
under counts and placed under the supreme military control of one
superior official.

The overthrow of Bavaria as a separate power laid the foundation of
a consolidated Germany, North and South, and, as in Middle Germany,
there was the same system of counties and bishoprics. Unity was still
far from being thoroughly realized, but that the germ of national
consciousness was already present is proved by the readiness of the
Bavarians, after the loss of their ruling duke and their autonomy, to
coöperate with the Franks in resisting the attacks of the Avars.

Just at the time that the tension in Bavaria was reaching its acute
stage, the situation in the Lombard Duchy of Benevento, whose Duke
Arichis seemed to be taking his cue from Tassilo, demanded attention.
There were no actual hostilities, for the presence of Charles in the
duchy was enough to bring the turbulent Duke to reason. His position
of vassalage was marked by a payment of an annual tribute of 7000
solidi. The duchy was mildly treated by Charles because it was useful
as a buffer against the provinces of the Eastern Empire, with which his
relations were far from being always friendly. The result was that the
Beneventines played a double rôle, sometimes befriending the Greeks
and rejecting the Frank overlordship, and on other occasions engaging
in hostilities with their Southern neighbors, as allies of the Franks.
There were a number of Frankish expeditions necessary to keep the
Lombards of Benevento and their dukes in mind of their duty as a vassal
state, and once there was a noteworthy failure of Frankish arms in 792,
when the campaign they had begun in the territory of the duchy was
abandoned.

Apart from the campaigns in Saxony, in Italy, and in Bavaria, necessary
to the integrity of the Frankish empire, there were various frontier
wars undertaken, not for the purpose of incorporating fresh territory,
but rather to impress upon contiguous peoples the power and prestige
of Frankish arms. The occupation of Bavaria brought Charles in contact
with the Avars, and his control of Aquitaine gave him as near neighbors
the Moslems of Spain, those enemies with whom his grandfather, Charles
Martel, had tried conclusions on the historic field of Poictiers.

This defeat had been inflicted on the conquerors of Spain at a time
when the Ommayad Caliphate ruled over a united Moslem world. But the
great internal revolution had broken this unity in 750, eighteen years
before the accession of Charles. The last Ommayad Caliph, Merwan, after
the great battle of Mosul, had been obliged to flee from Damascus to
Egypt and had there met his death. Shortly afterward eighty members
of his house were massacred by treachery at a banquet. Only one of
the family escaped, Abderahman, the son of Merwan, who, after many
adventures, reached Morocco, and was there invited to assume the rule
of Moslem Spain, where the jealousies of the Emirs, the lieutenants
of the far-distant Caliph in the East, had produced an era of
misgovernment and faction.

So began in 755 the Caliphate of Cordova, and with it the most
brilliant period of Mohammedan rule in Spain. But Abderahman was
not accepted as supreme head of the Spanish Moslems without active
protest; the Eastern Caliphate of the Abbasides had many supporters
in the peninsula, and it was to Charles that they appealed for aid
in resisting the Ommayad house. Naturally, the internal disputes of
the Spanish Moslems constituted by themselves no ground for Frankish
intervention. But the appeal was reinforced by promises that various
Spanish cities would open their gates if Charles would undertake to
cross the Pyrenees with an adequate army. This offer was made to
Charles by Moslem envoys, who appeared before him at Paderborn, where
he was holding a formal assembly (placitum) of the Frankish host
during the early course of the Saxon war. The prospects of valuable
territorial acquisition prompted the ruler of the Franks to embark
on this hazardous expedition. There is no proof whatsoever it was
undertaken to aid, as a kind of crusade, the feeble kingdom of the
Asturias, where the heirs of the Visigoths were still maintaining the
Christian cause against the Moslems.

In the spring of 778 the Christian army in force, containing
contingents of Lombards and Bavarians, as well as Franks, crossed the
Pyrenees, part of it passing into what afterwards became the Kingdom
of Navarre, while the second division moved along the Mediterranean
coast. Both were to meet at Saragossa, but before the junction was
made Charles laid siege to Pampeluna, which had previously belonged
to the small Christian kingdom of the Asturias. The city was taken,
and at Saragossa hostages were received to guarantee to the Franks the
possession of certain towns between the Ebro and the Pyrenees. With
this inconclusive result the aggressive part of the campaign ended.
Probably Charles hesitated to penetrate further into the country after
hearing that Abderahman had lately defeated an army of Berbers who had
come over to Spain to help the cause of the Abbaside Caliph. It was
now evident that the prospects of the opponents of the Ommayad house
were anything but brilliant, and it must have seemed advisable for the
Frankish army to withdraw from Spanish territory. Summer had already
begun before Charles turned his face homeward, after leveling the walls
of the city of Pampeluna to the ground to prevent its inhabitants from
revolting against him.

It was during this retreat that the famous disaster befell the arms of
Charles, to which literary history has given an importance beyond its
real deserts. On the 15th of August, at Roncesvalles, while the main
army was slowly winding its way among the defiles of the mountains,
the Basques applied to the Franks the guerrilla tactics they had
successfully used against all the invaders of Spain, Roman, Gothic, and
Moslem in turn. They made a sudden attack on the rear guard, and this
division of the Frankish army was utterly cut to pieces. Many of the
closest followers of Charles here met their death, among them Roland,
prefect of the march of Brittany, of whom we know nothing apart from
this brief notice in the contemporary histories, but whose exploits
were celebrated in popular legend, where, under the glamour of poetical
description, he has come to occupy a place as a warrior and hero almost
the equal of Hector.

The defeat remained unavenged, for it was realized that the pursuit
of the Basques in their mountain fastnesses was impossible. This
expedition into Spain not only accomplished little in the way of
permanent conquest, but served to provoke the Moslems to successful
reprisals extending over a series of years in the Southern part of
Gaul. The country was harried by the invaders, and towns as important
as Carcassonne and Narbonne were attacked and the country about them
ravaged. Dissensions among the Moslems themselves brought a respite,
and, aided by insurgents against the authority of the Cordovan
Caliphate, the Frankish officers in Aquitaine later on extended the
sphere of Frankish influence far into the Iberian peninsula. Before the
end of Charles’ reign Navarre and Pampeluna were again occupied, and he
could number Barcelona among the cities of his empire.

After the conquest of Bavaria, the campaign against the Avars, a people
closely allied to the Huns, was brought about by their threatening
attitude on the Eastern frontier, where they showed such constant
hostility to the peoples of German stock that in his military handling
of the problem Charles had the ready coöperation of the Saxons
themselves. After a preliminary campaign in 791, in which the Franks
advanced as far as the confluence of the Danube and the Raab, the
decisive struggle took place in 795, when the Frankish army, under
Pippin, the son of Charles, taking advantage of dissensions among the
Avars, succeeded in forcing the famous armed camp of the Khan called
the Ring, and returned with an immense amount of booty stored there,
the fruits of many successful raids on Christian towns and monasteries.
In 809 the Avars, hard-pressed by the Slavs, were glad to place
themselves under the Emperor, but their number had been so reduced by
warfare that a contemporary historian speaks of their lands as being
deserted, their treasures confiscated, and their nobility wiped out.

Operations against the Slavic tribes were taken up in earnest after the
reduction of the Saxons, though we hear of one marauding expedition
against them as early as 789. In 805 and 806 Slavic territory was
overrun by Frankish armies under the command of the Emperor’s
lieutenants, and two strong outposts were established for purposes of
military observation of their movements. These posts, on the Saale
and on the Elbe, became the nucleus for the development of the German
cities of Halle and Magdeburg.

After describing the wars of Charles, Einhard, his contemporary,
gives a summary of the conqueror’s achievements that deserves to be
repeated: “Such are the wars,” he says, “which this most powerful
king waged during forty-seven years. For as many years as these he
reigned in the different parts of the earth with the greatest wisdom
and the greatest success. So the kingdom of the Franks, which he had
received from Pippin, his father, already vast and powerful, nobly
developed as it was by him, was increased nearly twofold in extent.
Before his day this kingdom included only that part of Gaul which lies
between the Loire and the Rhine, the ocean and the sea of the Balearic
Isles, and that portion of Germany occupied by the Franks (who are
called Eastern) whose country lies between Saxony and the Danube, the
Rhine and the Saale, the river which divides the Thuringians from the
Swabians. Besides this, the Alemanni and the Bavarians acknowledged the
overlordship of the Franks. To these possessions Charles added by his
conquests first Aquitaine and Gascony, all the chain of the Pyrenees,
and all the territories as far as the Elbe. Then all that part of Italy
which extends from the valley of Aosta to lower Calabria, where is the
frontier between the Beneventines and the Greeks, in length more than
a million paces; then Saxony, which is a considerable part of Germany,
as long and twice as broad, it seems, as the portion of this country
inhabited by the Franks; then the two Pannonias; Dacia, situated on the
other bank of the Danube; then Istria, Liburnia, and Dalmatia, with
the exception of the coast cities which it pleased him to leave to the
Emperor, because of the friendship and the alliance by which they were
united. Finally, all the barbarous and savage nations situated between
the Rhine and the Vistula, the ocean and the Danube, much alike in
language, different in manners, and in their method of existence, all
of whom he overcame and rendered tributary.”




V THE RE-ESTABLISHMENT OF THE WESTERN EMPIRE


In order to present a general outline of the wars of Charles, we
have been compelled more than once to pass beyond the crucial and
culminating event of his career, his coronation as Emperor at Rome in
the year 800, thirty-two years after he had become King of the Franks.
All of his conquests are closely related with this elevation to a
dignity revered for its venerable traditions, and yet the conquests
alone were not in themselves sufficient to secure such an elevation.
The acquisition of the imperial title was the result of a revolution,
a change of policy, due as much to the intangible forces that move
society as to the concrete details of the career of the Conqueror.
Master of Italy as he was after the downfall of Lombard powers, this
territorial control simply gave Charles the position once held by
another great German prince, Theodoric the Ostrogoth. But Theodoric
was not an orthodox churchman as Charles was. It was, therefore, the
combination of the orthodox religion, which Charles inherited as the
successor of the first Frankish kings, and his sway over the Italian
peninsula which prepared the way for the great event of Christmas Day,
800, when he took his place in the line of rulers marked by the names
of Augustus, Constantine, and Justinian.

Although close relations subsisted between the Papal territories
in Italy and the Frankish overlord across the Alps, there was,
nevertheless, in Rome a considerable degree of autonomy. Charles had
no thought of exercising the rights of a sovereign on the basis of
the title of Patrician, which he had inherited from his father, and
on which he had acted when it came to a question of putting an end
finally to Lombard autonomy. But it was only at such crises that the
need of intervention was felt, and, as we have seen in the case of Pope
Stephen, it was the policy of the Holy See to make use of the Frankish
King when questions involving the dignity of the Pope could be settled
in no other way. This policy was maintained by Stephen’s successors,
but it was not easy to induce Charles to undertake to handle thorny
problems which involved the position of the Pope in his own city.
There was no Frankish occupation of Rome, foreshadowing the condition
of affairs there when another Emperor of the Franks protected the
Pope from being overthrown by his unwilling subjects through the use
of French bayonets. Rome, like other Italian cities, was often in a
state of turbulence owing to factional divisions among its citizens.
There was already a beginning of that rivalry among Roman families to
secure the Papal throne to one of its members that so often brought
degradation to the Papacy during the course of the Middle Ages.
Upon the death of Pope Hadrian in 795, after a long pontificate of
twenty-three years, Leo III became his successor, but it seems that
the succession was not altogether satisfactory to the kinsmen of the
dead Pope, for they soon proceeded to extreme measures against his
successor, seizing his person and trying to blind him. Leo, completely
terrorized, seems to have lacked supporters in Rome to defend him, and
he sought refuge with the great King at his camp near Paderborn, in
Saxony, which was being used as a center for the operations against the
recalcitrant Saxon tribes. The matter in dispute between the Pope and
his enemies at home turned out to be a complicated one. Charles, in
his capacity as Patrician, listened to the charges and countercharges
brought by one side against the other. It was evident that justice
could not be done at such long range, and, therefore, the King, after
sending Leo home under the protection of Frankish ambassadors, moved
slowly down into Italy in the year 800.

Charles showed no haste to take up the obligation of settling the
differences between the Pope and his discontented subjects. An
expedition into Italy was always costly and troublesome. The situation,
too, on the Eastern frontier needed his attention, because of the
death of Count Gerold and of Erich of Friuli, on whom he depended for
warding off the attacks of the Avars and the Slavs. There were matters
also in the Western part of his dominions which required his personal
supervision. His lieutenants had just won victories over the Bretons
and in the Spanish peninsula. New schemes of expansion had to be
worked out, and provision made for protecting the sea coast. Besides,
he was interested in securing for Eastern Christians dwelling in the
dominions of the Saracens, advantages which they were unable to attain
through the intervention of the rulers at Constantinople. A way had
been opened by the arrival at his court of a monk from Jerusalem, with
presents from the Patriarch and relics from the Holy Places. There are
hints also of his receiving representatives from the Byzantine province
of Sicily, and of direct suggestions from influential quarters in the
East, where the rule of a woman, the Empress Irene, was resented, that
the great Frankish King should assume the imperial title. He turned
his steps towards Rome only when he had made himself familiar with the
special needs of the situation brought about by Leo’s policy. Many of
his intimate advisers, Alcuin, Engelbert, Am of Salzburg, and Paulinus
of Aquileia, had evidently discarded for some time all thought of the
possibility of the Frankish ruler assuming the honors and rights which
the imperial position, to the minds of that age, could alone bestow.
Now everything was changed; the Empire was the one political idea which
was common to the German and to the Italian, and it was kept alive by
the influence of churchmen, to whom the existence of the Empire was the
necessary complement to a Catholic Church. Charles was already acting
with a recognized power fully equivalent to that of an emperor. His
rule was not local like that of other barbarian kings; the title was
needed to complete the political evolution, just as really as it was
necessary for his father, Pippin, to give up the rôle of Mayor of the
Palace and become “de jure” King of the Franks. This point was made
perfectly clear when the general assembly of Charles’ dominions was
held at Mainz in August, 800, and the Italian expedition was announced.

In Ravenna a stay of eight days was made by the invading army, and a
detachment was sent off to pacify the Lombard Duchy of Benevento. Not
far from Rome the King was greeted by the Pope, who then returned to
Rome to prepare for the official reception of the ruler, which took
place, on November 24th, with the customary ceremonies appropriate
to the patrician rank of the visitor. Eight days afterwards, Charles
having previously visited the Basilica of St. Peter’s, explained
publicly and officially the purpose of his coming to the city, viz.:
to investigate the charges against the Pope.

This was an informal and personal process, for, according to the
ecclesiastical canons, no one could officially judge a cause in
which the Pope was concerned. But Charles’ conception of his duties
as Patrician meant no mere perfunctory examination. For three weeks
there was a public hearing, like an extra-judicial examination before
a referee, of the rumors and charges against Leo’s conduct, a chance
being given to each side to ventilate its grievances. It is significant
that the Frankish King was won over to the view of his leading
ecclesiastics, including Alcuin, that the charges against Leo were
without foundation, and were only the product of personal enmity.

The difficulty was to give the decision such a form that, by avoiding a
judicial character, it would not infringe upon the Papal prerogative,
according to which the Bishop of Rome was not responsible to any
earthly tribunal. The bishops themselves explicitly adopted this
position by refusing to pass sentence on the head of the Church. After
this principle had been accepted, the Pope could declare himself
free from guilt. In so doing he was following a precedent set by
his predecessors in like circumstances, Marcellinus, Symmachus, and
Pelagius I.

So he proceeded on December 23d to exculpate himself by formally
declaring his innocence before a great assembly of secular and
ecclesiastical dignitaries, expressly mentioning that the proceeding
was voluntary and not required by the canons of the Church. In this way
the immediate cause of the expedition of the Franks was disposed of,
but Charles remained in Rome in order to provide for things needful in
the administration of his Italian dominions.

On Christmas Day a multitude had gathered together to celebrate the
festival. As the King rose from prayer at the Confession of St. Peter
the Pope placed the imperial diadem upon his head. The congregation,
acting under one inspiration, joined spontaneously in the acclamation,
used in former days in Rome, and still customary at the time at
Constantinople,--“Life and Victory to Charles the Pius Augustus,
crowned by God, the great and peace-bringing Emperor.”

Three times the formula was repeated. After this proclamation the Pope
reverenced the new Emperor, genuflecting, as was the Roman custom, and
probably this act of homage was repeated by all who were present. On
the same day the Emperor’s son, Karl, was anointed King by the Pope,
just as his brothers, Pippin and Louis, had been elevated to the royal
dignity twenty years before. A few days later the Emperor, sitting as
supreme judge, condemned to death the Pope’s accusers, sentences which,
at Leo’s request, were mitigated to deportation.

The biographer of Charles represents the ceremony of the coronation
as a surprise, prepared by the Pope without consulting Charles, and
so done not only without his will, but contrary to his desire. The
Emperor, indeed, is reported to have said that, if he had known of the
Pope’s intention, he would not have visited the Basilica. These words
may be interpreted as an expression of the usual formula of humility,
frequent in ecclesiastical elections on the part of the successful
candidate, or else they may mean that the Emperor objected to the way
in which the dignity was bestowed. It will be noted that the act of
placing the crown on his head preceded the acclamation of the people’s
choice. The details of the ceremonial were copied from the one used at
Constantinople, where it had long been the custom for the Emperor to be
crowned by the Patriarch. But, according to the political theory of the
time, the imperial dignity was not conferred by the receiving of the
diadem, but by the election of the Roman people and army, and by the
formal act of homage done at the time. The Pope, by his presence, added
more solemnity to the occasion, but his intervention added nothing in
the way of legal validity to it.

Charles’ own point of view is shown plainly enough in the fact that
in 813 he proclaimed his son Louis Emperor and crowned him with his
own hands. As he acted here without requesting the coöperation of the
Pope, a purely lay method of conferring the imperial dignity may have
appealed better to his convictions than that followed in his own case.
But there could have been no improvised procedure in the ceremony at
St. Peter’s. Charles could not have been made Emperor against his will,
nor is it possible to harmonize the details of the ceremony with such
an explanation. How could the coronation have been an impulsive act on
the Pope’s part, taken without the Emperor’s knowledge, when the diadem
was in readiness, and the great congregation were prepared to repeat
without confusion the words of acclamation? Such preparations must
have had the consent of the Frankish ruler, for it is most unlikely
that he should not have known of them. His own objections, therefore,
were probably due to certain features of the ceremony actually carried
out, those, namely, by which the Pope took the initiative. A stricter
following of ancient precedent, at a time when no ceremonial change
should have been introduced by which the legitimacy of the succession
could be questioned, would have approved itself to Charles. An emperor
had to be provided for the West, and scrupulosity in following
precedents was desirable, especially in view of the doubt as to whether
the Empress Irene could, as a woman, legally hold supreme power at
Constantinople.

It must be remembered that there had been several attempts made in
the seventh and eighth centuries to revive the connection between
Rome and the imperial dignity. But they had failed because there was
no considerable and acknowledged political force behind them. Now,
under the extensive rule of the Frankish King, the elements required
to give an actual validity to the imperial claim were present in an
overwhelming degree. Charles was in control of most of the territory
once belonging to the empire in Western Europe, and along the Eastern
and Southeastern frontiers he had succeeded in extending its limits--a
task unparalleled by the achievements in these same regions of the
greatest of the Roman Emperors. The Teutonic peoples, who centuries
before had made their first appearance as “fœderati,” in the service
of the Empire, were now component parts of it, and had definitely
entered the sphere of Roman civilization. What Athaulf had deemed to be
impossible, what neither Odoacer, Theodoric, nor the Lombard Kings had
tried or dared to do, Charles had done, now that, advancing from the
title of Patrician, which had been held often by the barbarian rulers,
he claimed for the Germans the full right to the imperial name.

In its ecclesiastical relations the revived Empire differed from the
old. The Pope had become a factor in the political evolution of the
West in a way unknown to the age of Athaulf, Theodoric, or Odoacer.
Gregory the Great had turned to the East as a subject of the Roman
Empire, to ask aid of his legitimate Emperor; the bishops of Rome,
in the eighth century, as equals, turned to the Franks, and of this
alliance the ceremony of Christmas Day, 800, was the logical sequence.

For the Germanic peoples the coronation of Charles did not mean
absorption into a unified system of absolutism, such as prevailed
in the East; but it did mean that the predominant factor in their
future was to be their relation in the logical sense to the Italian
peninsula, and it is just this relationship in its various phases which
was worked out in the Middle Ages, and so it may justly be called the
distinguishing mark of the medieval period.

Charles’ assumption of the imperial title did not imply that he ceased
to regard himself as the head of a Germanic people, nor was there
manifest on his part any intention to shift the existing Teutonic
basis of his rule towards a Latin center. For several months after the
coronation ceremony he remained in Italy, but the Alps were recrossed
in the summer of 801, and during the rest of his life he never again
set foot on Italian soil.

With the Eastern Empire, which might have been stirred to active
hostility by the introduction of a rival claimant to the imperial
throne, relations continued to be good. Embassies passed from one
court to another, and it is reported by a Greek chronicler that
Charles transmitted officially to the Empress Irene a proposal that
the two empires should be united by their marriage. In 803 the Empress
Irene died, after her deposition had been brought about by a palace
revolution by which Nicephorus, the Grand Treasurer, was placed on
the throne. In 806, for a short time, these peaceful relations were
broken by a contention over the possession of Venice, whose commercial
importance was beginning to be recognized. A Byzantine fleet appeared
off the lagunes, but was unable to prevent the coveted islands from
being taken by Pippin, Charles’ representative in Italy, who brought
the contest to a close in 810 by a combined attack on sea and land. In
812, as a compensation for acknowledging Charles as Roman Emperor, the
Adriatic territories, Venetia, Istria, Liburnia, and Dalmatia, were
restored to Byzantine rule.




VI CLOSING YEARS


The period of conquests and warlike expeditions was almost over.
One hears of the ravages of Scandinavian pirates, and of marauding
incursions by Moorish corsairs along the extended coast line of the
Empire. They seem to have remained unpunished, for Charles gave little
attention to the development of a navy. In the years from 808 to 810
there were operations on a large scale against a threatened Danish
invasion of the Northeastern frontier of the Empire. Some actions of
an indecisive character were fought, and the preparation of a fleet
sufficient to meet the Danish flotilla of two hundred ships was taken
in hand. The prospect, however, of more serious complications was
dissolved by a domestic revolution in Denmark, and for the rest of the
Emperor’s life peace prevailed between himself and the Danes. As time
went on, the actual direction of military operations was left to the
Emperor’s two elder sons, Charles and Pippin, who seem, on the whole,
to have harmoniously worked together in carrying out their father’s
plans.

The enforced inactivity of the Emperor brought forward the need of
providing for the future administration of his domains. His eldest son,
another Pippin, of illegitimate birth, was not on the list of those
from whom the future rulers were to be selected. Years before, in 792,
he had been discovered in a plot to dethrone his father, and had been
sent to a monastery.

There were now but three heirs to the empire, Louis, in Aquitaine; a
younger Pippin, in Italy, and Charles, in Germany, all intrusted with
important charges by their father. In 806 a formal document was drawn
up regulating the succession. Charles received the countries from
whence the Franks had originated, Austrasia along with Neustria, and
the East Frankish provinces; the younger brothers were to exercise
independent power over the countries they already were administering.
Besides this, Pippin was to take Bavaria, and Louis the Provençal
districts and the largest parts of Burgundy. Charles directed that
his sons should help one another against their enemies, internal
and external; he also arranged the roads by which Italy should be
approached in case of need, and provisions were made at the same time
for securing independence in the fractions of the Empire. Among these
dispositions, perhaps the most significant were that no “beneficium,”
or assignment of lands, should be made in any of the two divisions,
save to individuals who were residents there, and that no man
expatriated for his crimes should be received by the ruler of another
territory. The inner unity of the three realms and their independence
from one another was the master idea of this whole testamentary
arrangement. These provisions were made by the Emperor after he had
advised with his nobles. They seem to have harmonized with his own
sense of justice, and, strangely enough, the ideals of family life
predominated in cases where, beyond all other considerations, political
acumen should have prevailed. The Emperor relied, so far as the unity
of the Empire was concerned, on the loyalty of his sons to his own
counsels and to one another.

The plan was soon frustrated by death, for within five years of the
date of his division, Pippin and Charles had both died. The Emperor
was old, and the question of succession was a more pressing one than
ever. It was being discussed with equal interest by friends and foes
alike. It must have been also a matter of the profoundest moment to the
creator of the Empire, to make such dispositions as would, at least
from his own point of view, secure its permanence.

At the end of the summer of 813, Charles, following the precedent
of his father and grandfather, drew about him the most important of
his officials, and prepared, with their approval, to provide finally
for the succession. The disposition was comparatively simple, as
only one of the three sons, Louis, who had enjoyed the privilege of
Papal recognition, was still alive. He had succeeded, besides, in
giving a practical demonstration of his capacity by his successful
administration of Aquitaine. Therefore, he seemed entitled to the
largest share of his father’s dominions, the only difficulty being to
determine the claims of Bernard, the legitimate heir of Pippin. It was,
therefore, settled that he should receive Italy, and he was forthwith
recognized as its King.

Only one question was now in doubt as to what extent the prerogatives
of the imperial dignity should be passed over to the principal heir.
This, as it was the creation of the Emperor, seemed to be under his
personal control, so he accordingly prepared to make Louis co-Emperor.

The determination of the Emperor to advance his son to the imperial
dignity, making him co-ruler with himself, appeared to have been
unanticipated by the assembly. They applauded the design and greeted
it as an illustration of divine direction. There was no longer any
doubt that the central power would continue to exist. Louis was crowned
with the diadem by the Emperor himself, and the act was dissociated
from the precedent which had been followed in Charles’ own case, so
eliminating all question of Papal consent. Rome was not consulted, and
Louis was allowed to return home to his own kingdom of Aquitaine. There
could no longer, however, be any question as to his ultimately becoming
the sole supreme ruler in his father’s stead.

Charles may himself, as a political idealist, have believed that in
this transmission he was guaranteeing the permanence of the system
he had built up. But even apart from the unfortunate weakness and
incapacity of his successor, it is doubtful whether personal rule of
this type could have been perpetuated even in the Eastern Empire,
with its crystallized traditions, and where an imperial dynasty, with
recognized prerogatives and absolutism, endured from age to age. Even
in the East there were frequent breaks in the succession.

The long reign was clearly drawing to a close. The Emperor’s physical
powers began to fail, and the malady, which proved a fatal one,
appeared in alarming symptoms. The Emperor knew of his condition, and
had disciplined himself with the common forms of devotion for the
approach of death. After a hunting expedition in the autumn of 813 he
returned to Aix and soon after had an attack of fever. His ordinary
remedies, dieting and the mineral waters of the city, failed to bring
relief, and pleurisy set in. Charles died on the morning of the 28th
of January, 814, after having received the communion from the hands of
his arch-chaplain, Hildebold. His body, after embalmment, was enclosed
in an ancient Roman sarcophagus, still existing in Aix, with ornaments
in relief which depict the Rape of Proserpine. Above the entrance of
the vault containing it was placed this inscription: “Here rests the
body of Charles the Great, mighty and orthodox Emperor, who enlarged
nobly the realm of the Franks, and for forty-six years governed it with
success. He died a septuagenarian, in the year of Our Lord 814, in the
7th indiction on the fifth day before the Kalends of February.”

People told how marvels had foreshadowed the Emperor’s dissolution,
how for three days sun and moon were darkened, how the sky was filled
by bright, unnatural flashes of light, how the roof of the Basilica
at Aix was struck by a thunderbolt, and how the name of the Emperor,
“Karolus Princeps,” engraved on a golden crown, suspended in the nave
of the building, faded from sight.

Later on, it was reported that the body of Charles had not been placed
in a coffin, but that his tomb contained the body of the great ruler
sitting upright on his throne, appearing just as he did in life, vested
in the imperial robes, a diadem on his head, by his side a sword, his
scepter in his hand, reposing with the book of the Gospels on his
knees. Otto III was said to have entered the tomb and found the body
so placed; but this supposed verification of the legend rests on a
mistranslation of the text of an early chronicle.

Folklore soon amplified the career of the great ruler. In the medieval
“Gesta,” Charles appears as the brother of the Pope, the represser of
disloyal vassals, a crusader and pilgrim to the Holy Land, a warrior
of enormous stature, able with one stroke of his sword to cut in two
an armed knight on his charger. In other legends he is presented as a
famous wise man, the founder of the University of Paris.

The Emperor in person did not resemble the glorified image of him
handed down by legend. There was no beard extending to his waist, nor
did he wear the magnificent imperial vestments, heavy with precious
stones; nor are the other attributes of the imperial dignity seen
in his conventional portraits authentic, such, for example, as the
scepter, the globe surmounted by a cross, the baton terminating in a
knob of incised silver.

According to the most credible accounts, the Emperor was tall; as
Einhard puts it, “not more than seven times the length of his foot.”
His neck was short, and he was, to use the expressive but inelegant
epithet of our ancestors, “pot-bellied.” His head was round, with
large, active eyes, a lengthy nose, a large crop of hair, with a
mustache, but no beard. His voice, we are told, seemed rather weak
for such a large frame. Ordinarily, he was dressed after the Frankish
fashion, in a linen shirt and short tunic, to which in winter fur was
added; his legs were encased in leather bands; a blue cloak and a
sword of expensive workmanship completed his out-of-door wardrobe. On
ceremonial occasions he wore a diadem, adorned with precious stones,
and when he was in Rome he conformed to local custom by wearing the
chlamys, a long Roman tunic.

Charles was four times married. After his repudiation of the daughter
of Desiderius, his wives were Hildegarde, Fastrada, and Liutgarda. The
offspring of these various marriages were three sons, Charles, Pippin,
and Louis, the children of Hildegarde; and five daughters, Rothruda,
Bertha, Giselda, Theodrada, and Hiltruda. The girls were carefully
trained in the various arts of domestic economy, and we are told, too,
that in addition to skill in preparing stuffs for wearing apparel, they
showed great interest in collecting for purposes of self-adornment
“gold ornaments and many precious stones.” These unusual maidens proved
such valuable adjuncts to the household that their father refused to
permit them to marry, with the result that three became abbesses, while
two contracted irregular alliances. Rothruda secretly married Count
Rovigo, and Bertha, the poet, Angilbert.

Life at court was anything but austere; even the Emperor himself
could not be accused of being overscrupulous in his morals, for after
the death of Liutgarda, in 800, he contracted several irregular
alliances. Charles was fond of traveling; undoubtedly economic and
political reasons may account for the number of royal residences.
But his favorite seat was at Aix, which attracted him on account
of its mineral springs. Here, in a cluster of buildings, secular
and ecclesiastical, of his own creation, he was able to gratify
his own tastes in amusements, which were swimming and hunting. He
was fond of festivities, and liked to live surrounded by his large
family, who helped him to enjoy the good cheer of his table and
entered sympathetically into the natural atmosphere of a court
which was without stiff convention, and which preserved in its naïve
unconstrainedness the tastes of a great Teutonic tribal chieftain. But,
while the wines, the abundant amount of solid food and numerous dishes
of pastry, were well appreciated, there was serious conversation,
and an opportunity was given to the “littérateurs” of the court to
show their skill in verse or repartee. The Emperor himself reverenced
learning, but his own education was anything but advanced, even for
his own day. His intellectual interests were varied, theological
speculation being especially attractive to him. He was fond of singing,
and he spoke easily, clearly, and with an abundant diction. He knew
Latin, and understood, too, a little Greek. When he was of adult age he
studied rhetoric, logic, and astronomy. He liked to have the ancient
historians read to him when he was at table, but his favorite book
was St. Augustine’s “City of God.” Affable and easily approached, his
guests found him personally interested in their affairs; he had a happy
way of saying the right thing at the right time, but he was fully
conscious that his position as Roman Emperor made him a successor of
the Cæsars, and he never forgot that the religious consecration of the
Church placed him, in a mystic sense, in the sacred line of David and
of Solomon.




VII THE CONSTITUTION OF THE EMPIRE


Though we speak of an empire founded by Charles the Great, the use
of the word should not be allowed to lead us astray into comparisons
or analogies based on merely verbal resemblances. Charles was not an
emperor of the type known to the Roman Empire of the classic Christian
period, nor as a ruler can he be compared with Russian Czars or
Napoleon the First. Neither as king nor as emperor was Charles an
absolute monarch. Both before and after the assumption of the more
exalted title, the association of personal rule with the leadership of
the armed host of the Frankish nation was so close and intimate that
the ruler was not to be separated from the source of his authority. The
house of the Karlings could not claim the kind of sanction given to the
Merovingian princes, who were the hereditary rulers of the Franks.

When the power of the tribal kingship was broken, the Carolingian
house took first the leadership of the armed Frankish host, and then
the title of King; but they did so through, and with the consent of,
the nation of the Franks. The Karlings were not true successors of the
Merovingians. Their royal dignity had quite a different character; it
did not rest on birth and custom, or the traditional reverence which
comes from ancient and long recognized rights of succession. The army
of the Franks gave the directorship over their nation to the father
and grandfather of Charles, but the source of this authority remained
with and through the army. The leader of the Franks, whether called
king or emperor, ruled his own people, and the territory he gained,
by the consent of the army of the Franks. Charles Martel divided his
territories at his death, but he asked the army’s consent, and when
Pippin was crowned by the Pope, the act was again ratified by the army.

In the early years of Charles’ own reign, it was the wish of the Franks
that they should be guided by one ruler, not by two, and in all but
one of the conquests of Charles, the principle that some portion at
least of the annexed nation should ask him to be their overlord was
accepted. Even in the case of the Saxons, where the resistance to the
Franks was universal and unanimous, the purpose of Charles was not a
personal conquest of a people to be governed afterwards as dependents
under an absolute ruler. Rather, as Einhard expresses it, “that united
with the Franks they might along with them be made one people.” This
declaration in itself explains the character of the empire founded by
Charles. The closest analogy to it is to be found in the Ostrogothic
kingdom of Theodoric; the difference being that Theodoric sought for
allies among the independent tribal Germanic kingdoms, while the aim of
Charles meant absorption of these kingdoms under the one ruling race of
the Franks.

This principle is perfectly illustrated in the treatment of the Saxons
after their conquest; the moment they accepted the rule of the Franks
they were admitted on an equality with the Franks into the regular
meetings of the armed host of the Frankish nation, and along with their
conquerors took part in its legislative work. These primitive popular
assemblies had originated as the Merovingian dynasty was drawing to
its close, when it was realized that the people must provide for their
own concerns because of the failure of the ruling house to govern
efficiently or successfully. They were held generally in May at a royal
villa or palace in the Rhine Valley, Aix, Worms, or Mainz. In theory
every Frank was supposed to be present. Actually, only the great lords
and the high ecclesiastics were at hand, and their followers stood for
the people.

Only the most important personages were admitted to the deliberations.
The laymen present were separated from the clergy, but sometimes the
two orders sat together and went over in detail the measures prepared
for them beforehand. Sometimes this process lasted several days.
These informal sessions were visited by the Emperor, who passed among
those present, talking familiarly to them, and asking questions as to
the happenings and needs of the neighborhoods from whence they came.
Outside the building were gathered a crowd of followers and retainers.

The Emperor, after taking the advice of his chief subjects, made his
decisions, and the result was communicated to the people for their
consent. This last act had become apparently a simple matter of form.
The question submitted to the assembly had been prepared long in
advance either by the immediate council at the palace, or by the autumn
assembly, a body organized by Charles himself, which, when the matter
was urgent, decided on questions of peace and war.

While nothing is known of the character of the deliberations of this
smaller body, it is clear that measures, already settled by them, were
brought before the May assembly, and so presented that the decisions
taken earlier could be guessed. There were various names given to this
larger body or general assembly, according to the character of the
business that came before it,--conventus, placitum, synodus,--whether
judicial, legislative, or ecclesiastic. It was a council of war and an
executive cabinet; it was also a court of highest instance, a ministry
of foreign affairs and of public worship.

At the assembly the members, great and small, made their fiscal
contributions to the prince. The same vagueness, indicative of a crude
and undeveloped stage of government, is seen in the legislative acts
of the assembly, which appeared in the shape of what are technically
called “capitularies.” Analyzing them from the modern point of view,
Guizot reckoned that there were of criminal or civil legislation, 273
items; of moral and religious, 172, and that of these, one hundred
dealt with matters of canon law. The only distinction made by Charles
himself in the capitularies was that some were new measures and were
to be added to legislation already accepted, while others were to be
used for the guidance of the higher imperial officials. The first class
was valid only for the duration of the reign of the sovereign under
whom they were passed. The last, for a year, but the additions to laws
already existing had no time limitation.

These capitularies were not intended to supersede national or tribal
custom and law. Each man was judged according to the laws of his own
people, and in 802 the Emperor directed that the unwritten laws of the
peoples under his rule should be collected. The capitularies were,
therefore, supplemental and corrective to the national codes. For
example, one of them, which, by the way, met such strong opposition
that the Emperor was obliged to yield the point, was intended to remove
the abuse of private vengeance.

Local administration was in the hands of the counts, and, as in the
Merovingian period, the administrative unit was the county. Altogether
throughout the whole Empire, there were three hundred counts; the
districts which they administered varied in size, the authority
exercised by them being judicial, military, and financial. Along with
the count and closely associated with him is the bishop. As there was
in the capitularies so much which concerned the sphere of the Church,
the coöperation, in their official publication, of the bishop with the
count was not unnatural. Moreover, in the Empire, in addition to purely
religious duties, the bishop had the function of investigating certain
categories of crime, homicides, incest, etc., and in a general way, he
acted as adviser of the count.

Among the count’s duties was that of defending the Church and, in
trials for ecclesiastical offenses, he had to be present informally as
assessor. The coöperation of the civil and ecclesiastical authorities
strongly appealed to the Emperor, with his ideals of a Christian
commonwealth; but in experience, the association of the bishop and
the count, as local administrators, worked far from smoothly. So a
capitulary of 801 mentions the Emperor’s purpose to find out the
reasons why bishops and abbots, on the one hand, and counts, on the
other, are not able to assist one another.

The problem of defining the limits of the secular and religious spheres
gave rise to constant difficulties, and the situation was further
aggravated by the fact that in many cases the counts seemed inefficient
and venal. They had to be warned not to hang offenders without trial,
to be sober when they were sitting in judgment, not to receive
presents, not to oppress freemen, not to usurp the right which belonged
to the state, not to take the goods of the poor. Once a year the counts
were summoned to the royal palace, and they were required to remain
there long enough to lay before the Emperor a detailed record of their
administration.

A special power of review over the counts was given to the “missi,”--a
class of officials existing under the Merovingian Kings, but with
power extended and regularized by Charles, especially after 802.
The whole Empire was divided into “missatica”--the divisions under
a “missus,” which included several counties. For example, Western
France made three of these divisions with centers at Paris, Rouen, and
Orléans. The “missi,” who were generally a count and a cleric, an abbot
or bishop, made a general visitation of their district for a period
lasting over a year, according to a fixed itinerary. They were expected
to see that the royal authority was respected, by exacting a detailed
oath of fidelity from all the inhabitants, and to take care that no one
occupied the royal domain of forest or appropriated the royal revenue.
They looked after the application of the directions contained in the
capitularies, noted the general condition of law and order, saw that
justice was done, and the rules of military service strictly carried
out.

Much stress was laid on their judicial functions; when they arrived in
a town they set up their court in the public place; the local bishop
and count had to be in attendance, while the “missi” heard complaints
and altered whatever judgments of the local officers seemed contrary to
right and equity.

The “missi,” as we have seen, were selected from the higher clergy and
from the great landlords. Their persons were held to be inviolate and
sacred; all the lower officials of the Empire were ordered to receive
them with respect and give them ready help, and to attack them was a
capital offense.

Theodulf, bishop of Orleans, one of the clergy performing the
functions of a “missus,” has left us an account of an official journey
made by him to the South of France. He took boat on the Rhône with
his companion, Leidrade, the archbishop of Lyons, and their work
of inspection began at Avignon. They held their assizes at Nîmes,
Maguelonne, Cette, Agde, Béziers, Narbonne, Carcassonne, le Razès,
Arles, Marseilles, Aix, Cavaillon. The clergy and people hastened to
take advantage of their presence, but Theodulf tells us they did so
with no worthy motive, for they were prepared to buy their favor,
each according to his means. The rich offered good coin, precious
stones, valuable stuffs, and oriental carpets, arms, horses, ancient
vases “of pure metal unbelievably heavy, on which a skilful graver had
represented the fight of Hercules with the giant Cacus.” The poorer
citizens were ready to give red and white skins of Cordova, excellent
fabrics of linen or wool, chests, and wax.

“Such was the engine of war with which they hoped to make a breach in
the wall of my soul,” the bishop says, intimating that they had learned
the way by past experience. The custom of giving presents to officials
was so firmly established that even the reforming bishop hesitated to
interfere with it. Accordingly, in order not to offend the suitors,
he felt constrained to accept articles of small value, such as eggs,
bread, wine, tender chickens, and birds, “whose body is small but good
to eat.”

Little change was made in the ordinary forms of the Frankish judicial
system by Charles; the count still continued to hold his tribunal as
in Merovingian times, the freedmen of the county were expected to
be present as assessors, but owing to the difficulty of securing an
intelligent tribunal in this haphazard way, Charles instituted a chosen
class of assessors called “scabini,” who were to be taken from the
class of “well-born, prudent, and God-fearing men.” This body was both
the judge and jury, as the count only acted as their presiding officer
and pronounced the sentence formulated by them. From the verdict of
this tribunal there was an appeal either to the King or to the judgment
of God, the favorite form of which at this time was the test by the
cross. In this test, the defendant, holding his arms in the form of a
cross, had to stand upright without changing his position, while the
clergy recited certain prayers. If any movement was made, it was taken
as a sign of guilt.

In the palace the King himself often acted in the capacity of judge in
the first instance, and he also heard appeals either in person or by
proxy through the count of the palace. Considerable care was taken that
the right of appeal should not be used indiscriminately. The palace
officials had important governmental as well as personal functions;
their general collective title was the “palatins.” There was no Mayor
of the Palace, the first place being held by the count, who, as has
just been noted, had judicial duties. The administration of the palace
was also in his hands. The religious services of the household were
directed by the arch-chaplain; then came the chamberlains, treasurers,
seneschals, butlers, constables, and the master of domestic functions.
Counts of the palace are found in the command of armies; one of them
being killed by the side of Roland at Roncesvalles, another in Saxony.
Seneschals had charge of the kitchens, but they are also mentioned
as valiant warriors. Butlers were also diplomatists, and we find a
constable fighting the Slavs on the Elbe.

A real effort at division of labor is to be found solely in what might
be called, with some elasticity of phrase, the Record Office, where
notaries prepared the King’s letters, charters, and acts of immunity.
At their head was an ecclesiastic, the protonotary, or chancellor. He
was a dependent of the arch-chaplain, and did not have charge of the
seal, yet his position was especially confidential, as he kept the
archives.

The King consulted the court officials, who, according to his pleasure,
were gathered about him in an informal way whenever he saw fit to call
them. But, besides this, we are told that Charles had always with him
three of his counselors, chosen among the wisest and most eminent about
him; without their advice he did nothing. To the royal household there
were regularly attached a number of young men, the “discipuli,” sent
there to be educated, and the “comites,” or personal retainers of the
King, a continuation of a custom mentioned by Tacitus.




VIII CAROLINGIAN CULTURE


The Emperor’s solicitude in promoting learning has caused his reign to
be spoken of as the Carolingian Renaissance. But Charles’ intellectual
interests were not those of a fifteenth century humanist. He desired
the revival of letters because he saw in learning a means by which
the Church, which, to his mind, was the organization of the state
Christianized, might overcome pagan survivals, and take the lead in
civilizing the various nationalities in his realm. The clergy and the
monks were ignorant--they could neither preach nor teach. The Emperor
planned a kind of Christian Athens, a new community of scholars, in
which learning was to be the handmaid of religion. After he had assumed
the title of Emperor, he recalled how closely the glory of letters was
associated with the renown of the Roman world, and he desired his own
reign to be signalized by the same elements of culture.

The point of view of this intellectual revival is indicated in the
following letter addressed by Charles to Baugulf, Abbot of Fulda.
“Know,” he says, “that in recent years, since many monasteries were
in the habit of writing us to let us know that their members were
offering prayers for us, we noticed that in most of these writings
the sentiments were good, and the composition bad. For what a pious
devotion within was faithfully inspiring, an untrained tongue was
incapable of explaining outwardly because of the inadequacy of
scholarship. So we commenced to fear that, as the knowledge of style
was weak, the understanding of the Holy Scriptures was less than it
should be; we all know that if verbal errors are dangerous, mistakes
in sense are much worse. For this reason we exhort you not only not to
neglect the study of letters, but to cultivate them with a humility
agreeable to God, in order that you may the more easily or the more
justly fathom the mysteries of the divine writings. As there are in
the sacred books figures, tropes, and other like things, there is no
doubt that in reading them each one attains to the spiritual sense
of them the more quickly, in proportion as he has received before
a complete literary training.... Do not forget to send copies of
this letter to all of those with you who are bishops, and to all the
monasteries, if you wish to enjoy our favors.”

It was not enough to rely on those already set in authority--they
had to be placed under supervision themselves. Charles saw, as he
expressed it, that he had to find men who had the will and the ability
to learn, and the desire to teach others. Such leaders were selected
from all nationalities, Anglo-Saxons, Irishmen, Scots, Lombards, Goths,
Bavarians. The first to be attracted by the King’s inducements of good
pay and an honorable position were the grammarians, Peter of Pisa, and
Paulinus, and Paul the Deacon, the poet and historian. But in influence
all these were second to Alcuin, a native of England. Born in 735, he
entered the School of York when Egbert, one of the disciples of Bede,
was archbishop. Alcuin under his master Albert acquired the kind of
encyclopedic knowledge that is handed down to us in the volumes of
Isidore and Bede, the chief stress being laid on the Holy Scriptures,
helped out by jejune rhetorical exercises, and scraps of physical
science. He had read Latin literature, knew Greek, and was familiar
with the great writers of Christian antiquity. The King was glad to
secure such a prize, and the two became close friends. Alcuin acted as
confidential adviser to the King, and was one of those who arranged for
the coronation in 800.

There is a considerable body of literary work from Alcuin’s pen, but
nothing he wrote shows any originality. He was little more than a
faithful transmitter of the learning he received. He set the seal on
the traditional division of knowledge in its seven stages, or, as it
was technically known, the seven arts: grammar, rhetoric, dialectic,
arithmetic, geometry, music, and astronomy. His literary interests may
be judged from the following dialogue: “What is writing?” said Pippin,
one of the Emperor’s sons. “The guardian of history,” replied Alcuin.
“What is speech?” “The treason of thought.” “What engenders speech?”
“The tongue.” “What is the tongue?” “The flail of the air.” “What is
the air?” “The guardian of life.” “What is life?” “The joy of the
happy, the pain of the wretched, the expectation of death.” “What is
man?” “The slave of death, the guest of a place, a passing traveler.”

These preciosities give one a depressing idea of Alcuin’s ability. Yet
it must be remembered that they were marvels to the obtuse and crudely
trained minds of men whose chief occupation was war and the chase, and
as an intellectual stimulus they were just as effective as are to-day
the eagerly scanned columns of modern journalism.

Alcuin was made royal director of studies; he was schoolmaster of the
palace, and from this circle of the King’s friends originated the
Palatine Academy, the members of which, in order to mark their efforts
at imitating classic culture, adopted fancifully the names of ancient
worthies. So Charles was called David, Alcuin was called Horatius
Flaccus, and Angilbert, Homer. In order to extend their influence
Charles promoted several of the members of the Academy to important
positions in the Church, making them bishops or abbots.

The royal plans for promoting learning are indicated in a capitulary
of March 23, 789. “Let,” he says, “the ministers of God draw about
them not only young people of servile condition, but the sons of
freemen. Let there be reading schools for the children. Let the psalms,
musical notation, singing, arithmetic, and grammar be taught in all
the monasteries and all the bishoprics.” These directions led to the
creation of numerous monastic and episcopal schools, all ordered
“according to the customs of the palace.” Alcuin, in 796, withdrew to
Tours, becoming the abbot of St. Martin’s there, and planned to found a
replica of the Saxon school at York, where he had himself been trained.

The success of the new educational policy owed much to Theodulph, a
Spaniard of Gothic birth, who, in becoming bishop of Orleans about
798, proceeded to see that his clergy were industrious in reading and
preaching. Schools were opened in town and country where children were
educated without payment, though the parents were expected, if they
were able, to make some return proportionate to their means. From a
document written by another Carolingian bishop, it appears that parents
were urged to send their children and allow them to remain at school
until they were really instructed. In such provisions, it is possible
to find a sketch for primary instruction, though it is not known how
successfully or how widely it was developed.

Supplementing these lower schools were others of a higher grade
founded in the more populous centers. In the episcopal and monastic
schools there were accessible collections of books. Charles himself
had a library attached to the palace. The size of some of these
collections may be estimated from the fact that one monastery, St.
Riquier owned two hundred and fifty-six manuscripts. We know, too, that
abbots were accustomed in their election to give presents of books to
their monasteries. In the lists of these donations, which have been
preserved, are to be found chiefly Christian writers, St. Augustine
being an especial favorite; some of the poets of antiquity also find
a place, generally Virgil. The atmosphere of this revival of letters
was predominantly Christian. There are extant, for example, numerous
commentaries on the Gospels of this age, but they are of slight value,
being mere transcriptions of previous authorities.

More successful was the new régime in the mechanical work of preparing
better texts. One of the capitularies directs special care to be given
in selecting copyists equal to their task. Both Alcuin and Theodulph
were engaged in preparing a revised version of the Latin Bible, the
latter scholar, with more discretion, using as his model the text
prepared by the famous prime minister of Theodoric, Cassiodorus, after
he had returned to his monastery in Calabria.

The historical literature of the period also shows the influence of
this religious “Renaissance.” Hagiographical works were popular, but
in general critical ability was wanting in them. But some advance was
made, for although the traditional lines of narrative are preserved,
more biographical details are given and the style is improved. This
type of Carolingian literature can best be studied in Eigil’s life of
Sturm, in the biographies of Gregory of Utrecht, by Liudger, and in
Alcuin’s “Life of Willibrord.” Some of the annals compiled at this time
follow preëxisting models, while others show a distinct improvement,
especially the “Royal Annals,” which were compiled under the influence
of the royal “littérateurs.” The most noteworthy of this type are the
annals of Lorsch, which follow the course of contemporary history down
to the year 829; they have been assigned without sufficient reason
to Einhard, since it is known that works of a similar character, the
“Gesta,” of the bishops of Metz, were composed by Paul the Deacon.

The greatest monument of the literary revival is Einhard’s “Life of
Charles.” Its author, who had studied at Fulda, and become a member of
the court circle sometime between 791 and 796, was a favorite of the
Emperor, and received as a gift several abbeys. Suetonius was taken
as a model by Einhard, but was not slavishly followed. He oftentimes
changes the phrases of his original, and, copyist as he is, he leaves
on the reader the impression of freshness and vigor. Allowing himself
to be guided by his original, he sets down much information which the
ordinary medieval biographer leaves unmentioned.

Many letters of this time have been preserved, among the most
interesting being the correspondence of Alcuin. Poetry was widely read,
and all sorts of subjects were treated in verse. Especial attention
was given to metrical inscriptions intended to be placed over the
doors of churches or private houses, on walls, altars, tombs, and in
books. The acrostic form was extremely popular and applied with great
ingenuity. For the more serious poetic efforts, the most popular models
were the Christian poets, Prudentius and Fortunatus. But pagan authors
were by no means neglected, for Ovid, Virgil, Martial, Horace, Lucan,
and Propertius all found imitators. Attempts were made to revive epic
poetry, some of the writers, as in the case of Hugelbert, by no means
doing discredit to their classical models.

While Latin was the official language, Charles did all he could to
encourage his native Teutonic speech; he made collections of the
folklore poetry of his own people, directed the preparation of a
“Frank” grammar, and tried to introduce the custom of using the
Teutonic names for the months of the year and winds. But throughout the
greater part of Gaul the “Romance” tongue predominated, though educated
people did not care to employ it. Charles’ biographer tells us that
the Emperor spoke it along with Frankish and Latin. At the Council
of Tours, in 813, the bishops decided that the homilies should be
translated into Romance in order to be understood by the congregation.

Warlike songs in the vernacular, celebrating the exploits of the
Franks, are mentioned. The great deeds of the Emperor himself had this
popular recognition, especially the expedition into Spain and the
wars of the Saxons, which excited the popular fancy. That the actual
combatants were accustomed to recount, in verse, both Frankish and
Romance, the events they themselves had witnessed, is known from the
case of Adalbert, a veteran of the wars with the Avars and the Slavs,
whose narrative was taken down by a monk of St. Gall, and transcribed
into Latin.

Carolingian art, like Carolingian literature, was pre-eminently
religious. The revival of art was to a great extent a restoration,
i.e., an attempt to keep already existing church buildings from falling
into ruin. This process of destruction was due to the avarice and
carelessness of the generations immediately preceding the founding of
the Empire. New churches were also constructed, the work of building
being laid on the various communities and superintended by the bishops
and the counts. The Emperor’s minister of public works was Einhard,
to whom have been attributed, without sufficient ground, however,
some of the greatest monuments of the period, the bridges at Mainz,
the palace and church at Aix, and the palace at Ingelheim. Though
the monuments of Carolingian architecture were scattered over a wide
extent of territory, Germany, Gaul, and Lombardy, few have survived.
Wood was used for both basilicas and country churches, especially in
the Northern parts of the Empire, and such buildings were naturally
not durable. Where stone was employed, restoration has so altered the
original construction that few examples of the architecture of this
period can be identified with certainty. The basilica type of church,
usual in Merovingian France, was retained, but more attention was given
to the technique of ancient art. Einhard, we know, read Vitruvius. An
original feature of the Carolingian age was the lantern tower, square
or cylindrical, erected at the transept crossing, and surmounted by a
cupola containing the church bells.

Byzantine architecture was much admired in court circles, and the
desire to imitate the earlier periods of Græco-Roman art led to
a systematic plundering of the ancient buildings in the Italian
peninsula, from which all sorts of architectural fragments, great and
small, were carried across the Alps, to be incorporated, generally
without much sense of proportion or fitness, in the newly constructed
edifices. The most interesting example of this revived Byzantine
architecture is the Emperor’s own chapel at Aix, which still serves
as a nave in the existing church. Workmen from all quarters of the
civilized world were sent for to engage in its construction; marbles,
sculpture, and mosaics were brought from Italy, chiefly from Ravenna.
Eighteen years elapsed before the church was completed, and it was
consecrated with imposing ceremonial by Leo III, on January 1, 805. It
is a copy of the well-known church of St. Vitalis in Ravenna. Around
an octagonal center, which measures fourteen and a half meters, there
are galleries in two stories, to which access is given by turrets
containing winding staircases. The Emperor’s contemporaries were not
conscious of the mistakes in the execution of this copy of a famous
Byzantine model, and the chapel of Aix was spoken of by Einhard as
admirable and of supreme beauty. It was followed by others in the same
style, one of which, at Germain-des-Près, still preserves, despite
restoration, distinct traces of the original design.

The age was remarkable, also, for the extension and building of
monastic foundations. These buildings, as compared with the later
monastic structures, followed a simple plan, with the church edifice
forming the center of the complex. Around the square cloister were
placed the common room, the school, the library, the refectory, and
the dormitory. Near by were the abbot’s home, the guest chamber, and
the infirmary. An idea of the extent of these buildings may be had
from the dimensions of a well-known French abbey, St. Wandrile, where
the refectory and the dormitory measure 208 feet long by 27 feet wide.
As to secular architecture, it is represented solely by the imperial
palaces at Nymwegen, Ingelheim, and Aix.

The palace at Aix, like the church, has for its model a building at
Ravenna, the so-called palace of Theodoric. As all of the dependents
of the court had to be accommodated, the ground floor covered a
considerable space. In the center were the apartments of the imperial
family, the audience chamber, the baths. In a large wing of the
building, connecting it with the chapel, there was room for the school,
the library, the archives. In interior decoration stucco, mosaic
work, and mural painting were used rather than sculpture, in which
art Carolingian workers showed little skill. The Emperor, though he
prohibited the worship of images, expressly directed the use in church
of mural paintings, with subjects taken from the Scriptures. In the
palaces the same art was used to illustrate the secular history of the
Empire.

The Emperor’s deeds were depicted on the walls and explained in
poetical inscriptions. Mosaic was used for floors and wall spaces, and
red and green porphyry were especially sought after for the decorative
designs that often covered the interior of the cupola, as at Aix, where
the Christ is represented on a gold background covered with red stars,
blessing twelve aged men at his feet, and accompanied by two angels.

Work in the precious metals and in ivory was frequent in the churches,
since each had a treasury, and a third of the income, saved from
tithes, was assigned for religious ornaments. In these collections gold
reliquaries with chased work and precious stones were specially valued;
also portable altars and ciboria. The “ivories,” of which interesting
specimens are still preserved, are remarkable for the care displayed in
continuing the traditions of this branch of Christian art, as practised
both in the Eastern Empire and in Italy during earlier centuries.

Books are recorded also in the inventories of the church treasuries,
and the specimens that have survived attest the artistic value of
Carolingian calligraphy. The style of writing, under the influence
of English and Irish models, is clear and free from abbreviations.
Besides the miniatures, these manuscripts exhibit artistically drawn
letters, effectively combined, and characters done in gold and silver
on a purple background. There were a number of schools where the art
of copying was taught, the most celebrated being at Tours, under the
supervision of Alcuin. The national library at Paris has a beautiful
example of this work in a book of the Gospels prepared for Charles in
781, by the monk Godescalk. In Vienna, in the imperial treasury, there
is another Gospel book in similar style, which, legend says, was found
on the knees of the Emperor when his tomb was opened.

In church music, the Emperor continued his father’s policy of
encouraging the Roman use of singing the psalter, as opposed to the
Gallic custom. Masters were brought from Rome for this purpose and
schools established at St. Gall and at Metz. There is still in the
first-named place a Gregorian antiphonary, brought at this time from
Italy, for the purpose of giving musical instruction after the Roman
method.




IX ECONOMIC CONDITIONS


Turning now to questions of economic development, one is impressed by
the small part played by city life in the Empire, and by the industrial
importance of the manor. The landed proprietor depended on his country
seat for his support in the most real sense of the word. We find
Einhard, while residing at the court at Aix, bidding his tenants send
him flour, malt, wine, cheese, and other products, and he orders 360
bricks to be made in the country. Even the workmen, who are engaged
in building work in the town, are to be sent from the “villa.” Small
estates had completely disappeared and agricultural communities were
the exception. The villas were often placed near together, a tendency
which led to the multiplication of country churches, whose existence
up to this time is only infrequently mentioned in legal documents. It
was this evolution from a union of “villas,” or the country seats on
great estates, which led to the creation of the villages. The growth
of large estates may have been due to the impoverishment of the small
landed proprietor, but other important factors in the change were
the wide extent of frontier land and the growing importance of the
monasteries. The monastic estates were of imposing size, as it was the
custom for the small land owners to cede their property to the monastic
communities, sometimes to escape taxation, but also from motives of
ecclesiastical loyalty to those whom they looked up to as models of
Christian virtue, and whose prayers they coveted as efficacious in
healing all spiritual distress.

The importance of these institutions is revealed in the figures given
for St. Wandrile, which had on its rolls 1727 manses, inhabited by a
population numbering 10,000 souls. Luxeuil had 15,000 manses, and
Alcuin, the abbot of St. Martin at Tours, is reported to have had on
his domain no less than 20,000 serfs.

The celebrated Polypticon of Irminion, the abbot of St.
Germain-des-Près, drawn up between 800 and 826, records the
administration of one of these great monastic estates. The acreage
belonging to the abbey was 26,613 hectares, and was spread over seven
existing French departments. The parcels of ground numbered 1646; over
10,000 persons were employed, among them only eight freedmen, the rest
being either serfs or “coloni.”

Of the land, about two-thirds was arable and one-third wooded. The dues
from the tenants were collected in money, cattle, poultry, wine, wheat,
pitch, linen, mustard, woolen stuff, and thread, honey, wax, oil, and
soap, instruments of wood and iron, firewood, torches. The annual
revenue of the abbey was nearly $600,000, a sum which amounted to more
than $20 per household.

But the largest landed proprietor was the King; and food, drink, and
articles of clothing were supplied to the court by the villa system.
The royal capitularies give the exact details as to the industrial
administration of an estate. There were many outbuildings included in
the royal villa, such as kitchens, bakeries, stables, dairies, etc.
Fisheries, too, were encouraged. There were vegetable gardens and
flower gardens, in which seventy-four kinds of plants were cultivated,
among them many of the vegetables in common use at the present time,
and sixteen species of trees, including fig, pear, apple, peach, and
cherry trees. In the villa were found various kinds of artisans,
smiths, workers in precious metals, cobblers, saddlers, carpenters,
turners, rope makers. The women’s apartments were provided with rooms
artificially heated, and in them women wove wool and linen goods, and
also prepared them for use by dyeing, although it must be noted that
the range of coloring matters was limited. The staff was organized into
a kind of industrial hierarchy under special officers, who supervised
the work or kept the accounts. Over all stood the “mayor,” who had the
supervision of as much land in his district as he could visit in a day.

Care was exercised by the Emperor that these dependents should receive
enough to live on; no one was to be reduced to poverty, and provision
was made to protect all from unjust treatment at the hands of their
superiors. The maximum price of staple articles, such as wheat
and wine, was fixed; cornering the market was forbidden, likewise
exportation from a given locality when crops were poor. The bishops and
counts were charged to see that the owners of estates looked after the
indigent, whether slave or free, lest any should die of hunger.

Economically the monasteries were really productive centers. Their
artisans at first supplied only the needs of the monastic community
itself; then, as there was a surplus, the abbots established industrial
centers for wider distribution outside the monastic precincts. The
oldest of such Carolingian factories, so far as we know, was St.
Riquier, which contained special quarters for each trade. Indeed, many
continental cities owe their origin to this industrial movement. The
workingmen were organized in unions, guilds, or confraternities, whose
purpose was primarily charity, resembling mutual aid societies, with
features providing for insurance in case of loss by fire or shipwreck.

As villa manufacture was confined to articles of common need, more
elaborate tastes had to be gratified by importation from places beyond
the limits of the northern countries of Europe. The Emperor gave great
attention to guarding the frontiers, so that foreign commerce could be
carried on in security. The great trade routes followed the rivers.
There was a regularly developed system of markets and fairs held near
the cities and the monasteries, as in the case of St. Denis, near
Paris, where for a space of four weeks goods were exposed for sale by
traders from Spain, Southern France, and Lombardy.

In Germany and in the more remote portions of the Empire, near the
Slavic frontiers, the government established shelters and exchange
offices for the convenience of merchants, and strict care was taken
that arms were not sold to the enemy. Chief among the entrepots of
commerce was the city of Mainz, famous for its cloth manufacture.
Charles planned to make of it the great imperial economic center, and
in pursuance of this program provided for the construction of a wooden
bridge over the Rhine. He proposed also to build a canal to connect the
Danube with the Rhine. But the bridge was destroyed by fire, and the
canal offered too serious difficulties for the engineers of his age to
surmount.

Trade between the Empire and Great Britain and Ireland was encouraged.
There was a lighthouse at Boulogne, and at Quentovia, now Étaples,
a customs-house was established and placed under the supervision of
Gerrold, a shrewd man of affairs, abbot of St. Wandrile. The constant
stream of pilgrims passing from the islands was protected by the
Emperor, and they proved useful in drawing closer the commercial ties
with these remoter portions of the civilized world. Naturally the
Mediterranean commerce was the more important, and the Emperor was
careful to keep up good relations with Eastern princes, both Christian
and Moslem.

Imports consisted of purple stuffs, silk cloaks of various colors,
worked leather, perfumes, unguents, and medicinal plants, spices,
Indian pearls, Egyptian papyrus, and even exotic animals, such as
monkeys and elephants. The cities in Southern France were especially
frequented for trade, many of them having a cosmopolitan population.
The Jews were valued for their business capacity, and also for their
knowledge of languages and medical science. They were not allowed to
own landed property, but no restrictions were placed on their loan
operations, or on their commercial ventures.

A marked improvement is noted in the coinage. After 800 the bust of the
Emperor appears with an indication of the Roman military cloak and the
words “Carolus Imperator”; on the reverse is a temple with a cross and
the inscription “Religio Christiana.”

The financial administration of the government offered few
complications, because the obligations on the state in the way of
expenses were most limited. The chief item in the imperial budget,
which preserved the personal and household character of the Merovingian
period, was for the maintenance of the royal palaces, for the presents
made by the king to churches, to foreign princes, or to the great
officers of the Empire. Direct taxes were of the capitation type,
graded according to the position of the individual taxed. The ordinary
fiscal resources were made up from the income of the King from his
own estates, from tributes paid by vassal nations, from war booty,
obligatory annual gifts, and indirect taxes. The revenue from the royal
estates, which were excellently managed, was considerable, and there
must have been a large sum credited to the account of booty from the
various successful wars.

The “benevolences,” to use a term familiar in the constitutional and
financial history of England, were not fixed, and the records speak
in an indefinite way of the contribution offered by faithful subjects
of the Empire in the annual assemblies. But it is plain that these
so-called gifts included precious stones and valuable fabrics, as well
as gold and silver.

The principal indirect taxes were in the form of personal service,
rather than in money payments. Local taxation meant special work on
roads, bridges, and making dikes. For the great bridge at Mainz, labor
was called for from many localities, because it was an imperial work,
intended for the common benefit of the whole Empire. Transportation
dues are frequently mentioned in the Carolingian laws, as well as
the right of “lodging,” by which the inhabitants of a community were
obliged to lodge and entertain the King and his officials on their
travels, and to receive the representatives of foreign powers and
others, to whom the royal privilege was given. A bishop, for example,
had the right to receive forty loaves a day, three lambs, three
measures of ale, a gallon of milk, three chickens, fifteen eggs, and
four measures of feed for his horses.

The greatest difficulties of the government were not financial, but
military, for the state of warfare was almost continuous, especially
along the Alps, the Pyrenees, and from the Eider to the lower Danube.
The summons for calling together the units of the military forces
was either carried by means of direct envoys or by letters sent to
the counts, bishops, and abbots, and sometimes by the “missi.” These
officials had to see that all those who were liable to service should
be prepared to take their places when the call to arms was given. One
of the “missi” writes: “let all be so prepared that, if the order to
leave comes in the evening, they will leave without delay for Italy on
the morning of the next day, but if it comes in the morning, in the
evening of the same day.”

The following letter, addressed to Fulrad, abbot of Saint Quentin,
gives the full text of one of these summonses: “Know, that we have
fixed this year our meeting place in the country of the Saxons, in
the Eastern part on the River Bota, at a place called Storosfurt. For
this reason we direct you to be at the said place on the 15th of June
accompanied by all your men, well armed and well equipped, so that
you may go under arms, wherever it seems good to us to direct you to
march. We expressly recommend you, in order that you may see that the
rest follow our directions, to proceed to the designated place, without
disturbance, by the shortest road, without taking anything from the
inhabitants but the grass, wood, and water you require. Let the men
of your company march constantly with the chariots and the horsemen,
and let them never leave them until they reach the meeting place, in
order that in the absence of their master they may not be tempted to
do evil.” Late comers were punished by being deprived of rations for
the time they were absent, if the period was short. They who failed to
appear altogether were exposed to pay a heavy fine proportionate to
their fortune. While on the march the troops, as we see by the terms of
Fulrad’s letter, were to receive from the inhabitants of the country
through which they passed fire, water, wood, and lodging, but nothing
else. They brought with them enough provisions to last three months,
and arms and clothing for six months. Each warrior was expected to have
a buckler, a lance or a sword, a bow with ten cords, and twelve arrows.
Those who were better off brought with them a better type of shield,
while the counts and those who served as substitutes for bishops and
abbots, wore a breastplate and a helmet. Some of the soldiers carried
slings, and, apparently, there were mounted divisions in the army. For
certain necessary parts of war-material the counts were personally
responsible, such as three kinds of battle-axe, skins, battering rams,
also for the transportation of these, and for all things required to
keep the various weapons in good condition, and for engineering tools.

It is interesting to note how these warlike preparations were arranged
for. Ownership in land was the basis selected for apportioning the
expense. But as the man who had only a small estate could not bear such
an outlay, inequality of fortune had to be considered, and also the
distance to be traversed to the place of meeting. These points were
all kept in view by the legislation of the Emperor, but there was no
systematic attempt made to meet these difficulties. There were special
provisions intended to govern special cases. In the first place, the
call to arms was rarely made general. This was only done on exceptional
occasions, as in 773, for the Lombard war; in 775, in the war against
the Saxons, and in 792, in that against the Avars. In 807 account
was taken of the distance. The Saxons, for example, only sent one
man out of six against the Spaniards and the Avars; one out of three
was demanded against the Slavs; but in case of conflict with their
neighbors, the Suabi, all Saxon warriors had to take up arms. There was
also an apportionment according to race: the Franks were called upon
to confront the Saxons, the Lombards and Bavarians marched against the
Avars; while, in case of war with the Spanish Arabs, the Aquitanians,
the Southern Goths, the Provençals, and the Burgundians had to make up
the imperial army. In the war against the Slavs, the Emperor called
upon the Eastern Franks, the Saxons, the Alemanni, and the Thuringians.

In 807 the Emperor made the following arrangement as to military
service: Every man who owned three manses had to appear under arms; of
two landowners, each one of whom had two manses, one was to provide the
equipment for the other, and he who could go earliest had to appear
for military duty. Of three landowners, who had but one manse apiece,
one must go, while the other two were to provide the equipment, and so
on, the same arrangement being applied to owners of smaller parcels of
ground. Another year, the duty of serving in the army began with the
owners of four manses. The working of this graduated system of service
was left in the hands of the “missus,” who made his arrangements in
view of the prospective campaign.

It was evidently the Emperor’s purpose to make the burden as light as
possible for the small landholder, and at the same time the obligation
to serve was extended to those who had no landed property. So we find
it declared in 806 that “if there are six landless men who own each as
much as the value of six silver pennies, i.e., a pound and a half of
the metal, one has to serve and be equipped by the other five.” But the
freemen alone were not sufficient to fill up the ranks; for, under the
strict application of this system, no one was obliged to serve who held
land in dependence, or as a “beneficium” from a wealthy landowner, nor
did the obligation rest on those who had surrendered their lands to
the Church, or to a powerful layman, in order to receive it back again
under the conditions of a “beneficium.” This class were not wholly
free, nor were they actually landowners.

The problem of keeping up the war strength without oppressing the small
landowner was solved in the following way: Charles called together,
under the following conditions, those who were his own tenants. “Let
every freeman,” he directed, “who owns absolutely four manses, or who
holds them from another in the relation of a ‘beneficium,’ undertake
to furnish his own equipment and join the army, either with his lord,
if his lord is going there, or with the count.” These distributions
enabled the Emperor to get recruits who otherwise would have escaped
service; the other more remote result was that the “beneficium” system
received legal recognition, and in this way the Emperor himself
coöperated in the disintegrating tendencies by which the feudalized
state finally destroyed the imperial system.

The lot of the small landowner was made hard and unendurable under the
terms of the imperial military regulations, despite the compromises
intended by Charles to protect him. There was every inducement to
the owner of a small holding to give it up. We find, for example, an
imperial order forbidding freemen without permission from the Emperor
to enter the clerical profession, “for we have heard,” he says, “that
certain of them are not so much actuated by devotion as by a desire to
escape service in the army, and other public duties to the sovereign.”
The fact, too, that rules regulating this subject were extremely
complicated, led to all kinds of abuses on the part of those who were
intrusted with their execution. In a report made to the Emperor, we
read that “the poor people claim that, if one of them is not willing
to abandon his property to the bishop or abbot, or count, or ‘master
of a hundred,’ these officials find occasion to have him condemned and
compel him to go to the place where the army is mobilized, so that
being reduced to misery he is forced, whether he wants to or not, to
give up his property or sell it.” It was added that those who had made
this sacrifice were not disturbed.

The recriminations of the poor were directed against clerical and
lay officers without distinction; and we hear of their grievances
against bishops, abbots, and their legal representatives, as well as
against the counts and other laymen. The Emperor’s efforts proved
futile, and he not only could not resist the movement of his age, but
he found himself promoting the evolution he criticised. He actually
gave exemptions under his own seal to a certain number of religious
houses. The counts, on their side, made a practice of giving exemptions
and dispensations from military service. The landlord was allowed a
kind of authority over the tenant in questions in which the holding of
land was not involved. The rule that each landowner must be conducted
to the place of mobilization by the count was broken, and the landed
proprietors were allowed to appear ready for service, at the head of
their tenants and dependents, a distinct anticipation of the later
feudal custom.

The mass of the people did not fail to let their sentiments be known
when the Emperor proceeded to extend the privilege of quartering his
functionaries on private individuals. The imperial officers were
assaulted and their baggage stolen. There was much complaint, too, of
the incessant calls to military service. Many sacrificed, therefore,
their free status, which simply meant to them the constant obligation
to be under arms, and they entered the ecclesiastical profession
or became dependents of those who were more powerful. Carolingian
legislation permitted the freeman to “commend” himself to whomsoever he
would “after the death of his lord,” and so that process began by which
the central authority was robbed of its own subjects, the small, free
landowners. Thus it was that the medieval régime took definite shape
as a governmental hierarchy based on the possession of landed estates,
great and small, worked either by serfs or by tenants, related to their
overlord by various kinds of dependent tenures.




X THE CHURCH


In his relations with the Church, Charles gave a liberal interpretation
to his acknowledged powers of guidance and direction; the kind of
rôle he was willing to undertake shows that he drew no hard and fast
line between the secular and spiritual prerogatives of a monarch.
For example, in the Adoptionist Controversy, he took the initiative
himself in settling a troublesome problem of theological speculation.
According to the Adoptionists, in Christ there are a divine personality
and a human personality, which latter becomes by adoption the Son of
God. This tenet was eagerly embraced in Spain, its two best-known
adherents being Elipandus, Archbishop of Toledo, and Felix, Bishop of
Urgel, the latter a city in the North of Spain under the authority of
the Frankish King, who, therefore, immediately took steps to bring the
subject in dispute before a council, assembled at Regensburg, “under
the orders of the most glorious and orthodox King Charles.” Felix was
convicted of false teaching and sent to Rome to appear before Pope
Hadrian. Though Felix was deprived of his bishopric he continued to be
supported by the Spanish episcopate, who collectively wrote to Charles
for his restoration. At Frankfort, in 794, a council of prelates from
various Frankish sees met and listened to the King, who read the letter
from the Spanish bishops. The council then heard a long technical
speech from their ruler on the questions at issue. The Bishop of Urgel
was again condemned, but the matter was not decided until a few years
later, in 799, when a long discussion, lasting over six days, took
place at Aix between Felix and Alcuin, the conclusion of which was
that Felix allowed that he was overcome in argument, and published a
retraction.

Charles was equally interested in two other religious controversies of
his time, and he made his personal point of view predominant in spite
of the weight of church authority on the other side. At the Council of
Frankfort the bishops had received from Pope Hadrian the acts passed at
the Second General Council of Nicæa dealing with the subject of image
worship, a matter that had been debated with much violence in the East
and in Italy for several generations. At Frankfort it was supposed,
owing to an inability to understand the precise meaning of certain
Greek words, that the Nicene Council had formally ordered the adoration
of images, and its decrees were therefore rejected. The Emperor
undertook the defense of the Western point of view, and in doing so did
not hesitate to differ with Rome itself. He also took up an independent
position on a more vital point. It seems that during Leo III’s
pontificate certain French monks residing in the East were charged
with heresy because they inserted in the so-called Nicene Creed, in
the article dealing with the procession of the Holy Spirit, i.e.,
where it is stated that the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father, the
crucial word “filioque” (and from the Son). The matter was taken up by
Charles, and after this recondite theological point had been studied,
the action of the monks was officially sanctioned by the Council of
Aix-la-Chapelle, in 809, although the Pope refused to approve of any
addition to the historic formula of Christian belief.

In considering the Frankish ruler’s attitude towards the Papacy, it is
well to remember that the later administrative system of the Curia,
which made so clear-cut the antagonism between the secular prince and
the ecclesiastical hierarchy in the medieval times after the age of
Hildebrand, had not yet been developed. Charles reverenced the Papacy;
indeed, the Pope’s counsel and the Pope’s words often played a decisive
part in influencing his motives. He was a convinced believer in the
Pope’s right to teach the faithful, and he saw in him the guardian of
apostolic tradition. It was to this tradition that he appealed when he
condemned the Adoptionists at the Council of Frankfort. The specific
rights of the Papacy, from this point of view, lay in its teaching
function and in its liturgical usages, which were to be taken by the
Christians of Charles’ dominions as the correct norm of their practice.
There was also a full recognition of the prerogatives of the Papacy in
phases of administration and discipline, wherever ancient precedents
could be cited. So we find Charles appealing, in the renewed disputes
between the sees of Arles and Vienne, to the ancient directions of the
Roman bishops governing this question.

But this recognition of the rights of Rome did not prevent Charles from
regarding himself as the director of the Frankish Church. He speaks
openly of himself as “the pilot of the Church in his domains,” and
when writing Leo III he explains his conception of the relation of the
kingdom and the Papacy. “Our task it is, by the help of God, to protect
by our arms outwardly the Holy Church of Christ from assaults of the
heathen and from being wasted by the unbelievers and to establish it
within by recognizing the Catholic faith. Your duty it is to support
as Moses did, with uplifted arms our service in the battlefield, that
the Christian people, being led through your petitions and prepared
by God, may have constantly and everywhere victory over the enemies
of His name.” While Charles assigned to the Pope a religious activity
and nothing more, he regarded his own guardianship over the churches
as extending beyond questions of their material welfare. In 789 in
a message to the bishops he stated that he wished to coöperate with
them, using his power as a ruler, and working through his subordinates
to improve things where improvement was possible. These were the
principles he used in his Church policy. Just as in secular matters he
was not absolute, but followed the laws and customs of the people over
whom he ruled, so in regard to the Church he observed its canonical
system with a reverence for its minute details. But his capitularies,
as we have seen, are filled with ecclesiastical legislation, and in
Church matters the King acted as the supreme authority. Even synods
laid their decrees before him for correction, and to secure his
authoritative sanction. There was little place for a fully developed
Papacy in an ecclesiastical system worked along these lines, and there
are no examples during Charles’ reign of Papal interference in the
administration of the Church in his own domains. The Pope, where and
when he did act, did so in concert with Charles; even in cases of
excommunication there was an understanding with the King; and often the
extreme penalty was inflicted under his initiative. Even the exercise
of discipline in connection with the episcopate was left in Charles’
hands without any protest on the part of the Pope.

These religious activities of Charles seemed natural to his
contemporaries. Alcuin says of him that he was armed with two swords,
the one to smite false teaching in the bosom of the Church, the other
to protect it from the devastations of the heathen. He speaks of
Charles as a parent and teacher, under whose rule the Church is placed;
yet at the same time Alcuin had the highest reverence for the Papacy
and never thought of the possibility of conflict between the Pope and
the Emperor. In Rome itself there was no formal acceptance of this
Frankish conception of an ecclesiastical polity in which the Pope’s
place was that of a fifth wheel to the coach. Roman enthusiasm for the
Emperor, as expressed by the Roman clergy, was limited to encomiums on
him as protector of the Church. He was spoken of as the faithful ruler,
who, by his energy and his benefactions, was doing valiant work for
Rome and for the Papacy.

In matters of internal Church administration, the influence of the
King was often paramount in questions affecting diocesan order. There
was nothing revolutionary here, for the independence of the Church
from the State implied a situation that was never dreamed of at this
period, nor had it really existed since the time of Constantine.
Theoretically, the choice of a bishop belonged rightfully to the clergy
and to the laity of a diocese, but, as a matter of fact, the monarch
controlled episcopal elections. These could not take place until the
royal sanction had been secured, and the official in whose presence
the electoral machinery was set in motion was an appointee of the
King. The official papers recording the election had to be sent to the
palace, and the successful candidate could not be consecrated except
with the King’s approval. Often Charles himself selected the candidate;
besides, if a man were known to be favored by him, he would, on the
strength of this fact, be elected. Where bishops were to be appointed
for sees created in territory newly conquered from the heathen, they
were named by Charles without the form of an election. What is true of
bishops holds also with regard to abbots, who, on account of the great
expansion of monastic life, were of more importance than a diocesan
bishop. Church councils were summoned by Charles; he could preside over
them, and only through his consent were the decrees they passed valid.
Much attention was given to a systematic organization of the hierarchy.
There were twenty-two metropolitical sees in the Empire, and the bishop
was given real and effective charge of the clergy under him. Counties
and parishes, throughout the imperial domains especially, were growing
in number, and were placed in the newly acquired territories under an
assistant bishop.




XI THE EMPIRE WITHOUT AND WITHIN


The diplomacy, as well as the strategy, of the Emperor was worthy of
a far-seeing and cautious ruler. He kept the frontiers of the Empire
assured by fortifications, wherever there was prospect of direct attack
from the Danes or the Slavs, and by such means saw to it that the
tribes bordering on the lines of defense were kept in awe and reduced
to a state of dependence. In other places where the more distant
Avars and the Bulgars might ultimately give trouble, the Emperor
had taken care to come to a friendly arrangement with the Eastern
Empire for mutual protection. This understanding did not, it is true,
prevent friction between the two powers on the Adriatic Sea, where
on several occasions the armies had met to decide their differences
by arms. But on neither side was there any intention of developing
consistent schemes for conquering the territory of the rival emperor.
Disturbances were local and the border population was itself uncertain
in allegiance, and ready to accept the guidance of its interests in
determining the direction of its loyalty. This kind of hesitancy was
not found in Italy, which remained inviolably faithful to Charles’ rule.

The rulers of Constantinople had no time nor inclination to repeat
the experiment of Justinian and Constans during the reign of Charles;
they were weakened by serious difficulties of their own, due to
disputed succession and religious conflict, and to the need of constant
watchfulness against Moslem aggression. It was fortunate for both
empires that the Saracens were not united. This was the most decisive
factor, indeed, of the history of this period. The East was freed from
the type of attack which had kept Leo the Isaurian constantly on the
defensive, and which only his high military talents were able to cope
with, while in the West the inability of the Moslems to act together
made it possible for Charles to expand his territory and to give the
time needed for internal development in the consolidation of his rule.

It was one of the most permanent results of the activity of Charles
as a conqueror that in the Spanish peninsula he strengthened not only
the natural position of the petty and struggling Christian kingdoms,
but by his personality made the ideal of a Christian ruler respected
there, and so assured for the Christians in Spain a future which
could be realized only when they had lived down their particularism
and recognized the value of solidarity. But the wider field of armed
conflict for the peoples included in his realm would have meant little,
if it had not been accompanied by opportunities for real social
progress.

The empire of Charles, though it was the concrete creation of an
ideal government crudely understood and most inadequately worked out,
illustrated the liberty-loving principles of the Germanic peoples who
were gathered in its fold. In this respect, with all its imperfections,
the rule of the great Frankish monarch is more closely allied to the
political principles of modern times than were the more ambitious and
more logical creations of the conquerors who preceded and who followed
him. Unconsciously, it may be, his system of government gave scope for
local diversities and recognized rights of deep-planted traditions
with a generosity which is characteristic not of empires such as those
of Cæsar and Napoleon, but of federal republics of the type of the
United States, and the Federation of the Swiss Cantons. When he aimed
at uniformity he did not lose sight of the fact that he was the ruler
of heterogeneous nationalities, on whose good-will and coöperation the
permanence of the Empire was dependent. The pressure of centralization
was lightly exercised, simply because in the Emperor’s mind the ideas
of Roman rule had to pass through the medium of German tribal tradition.

There was no steam roller set to work to equalize, if not to pulverize,
the component parts of his realm. The divisions were not destroyed,
but were rather combined in a higher political unity. The kingdom
of the West Goths was at least preserved, though it had less of a
definite character than the Lombard kingdom, which the Emperor took
special pains to preserve in its integrity. Even the traditions of the
Ostrogoths were allowed a value in so far as they stood for a strenuous
opposition to the imperial policy of uniformity of administration
and to the economic sacrifice of the local centers to the purposes
of world politics. Lombard influence had overcome both Ostrogothic
and Roman rule; it was irreconcilable, and stood for the stubborn
and conservative standpoint that made the first Germanic invaders
difficult to assimilate in the provinces of the Roman Empire, where by
force of arms they became the ruling class. A similar obstinacy, with
its preservation of the original political type, marked the Lombard
kingdom and duchies which Charles had conquered. A picturesque example
of local initiative was not crowded out by the Frankish overlordship
in Venice; the seafaring community came into being in a favored spot,
on the confines of the two empires, too remote to be crushed from
Constantinople, and protected from the Western ruler by a few leagues
of shallow sea.

The same centrifugal tendencies are seen in Southern Italy; and what is
more important, in Northern and Central Italy, there was no attempt
to stifle the germs of municipal activity which produced, later on,
such marvelous fruitage in the Italian town life of the Middle Ages.
The contrast between the Germanic and Roman elements in the Empire
faded away gradually under the Emperor’s administration, but Roman
civilization could not be eclipsed, while the laws of Justinian
continued to be quoted as a model, and while the Church with its
general use of the Latin language was regarded as the chief adjunct and
support of continuity in imperial rule.

The union of the Empire and the Papacy kept up that tradition of
civilization by which the isolation of Germanic tribal life was swept
aside, and the Germans learned that there were other governmental
principles than custom, and began to see that might was not the only
right. The institutions of the Church did more than preserve the ideal
element for the individual and for society. They stood for continuity
in securing the best achievements of classic culture in government and
in learning, and prevented just that kind of social cataclysm which
marked the progress of Islam, when it attempted to handle mankind in
the mass. Reverence for the Holy Scriptures, however imperfect may
have been the acquaintance with them, had a powerful influence in
maintaining the connection of Church and State, and acted constantly
against the divisive tendencies of racial rule.

The Celts of Western France, the remnant of the people who had once
dominated the whole of Occidental Europe, were brought into the sphere
of general European life, and the same opportunities were given to
the Germanic peoples. Allied with the population of Latin origin,
they extended their sway over a territory which before had never felt
the influence of centralization. The union of the two elements was of
momentous importance, and this achievement stands out as the abiding
result of the Emperor’s conquest. France and Germany made up a whole,
in which the Teutonic element had a superior position, but without
tyrannizing over the peoples of the Romance stock. In Burgundy and
Neustria the elements of Latin blood were strongest, and the contrast
gave a peculiar character to Austrasia.

The most significant factor of the Emperor’s rule was that it offered
a center of unity to the Teutonic tribes, consolidating them, where
the Merovingian kingdoms, which also stood for the old Germanic tribal
traditions, had shown complete incapacity. But under the Carolingian
rule, neither the Alemanni, nor the Bavarians, nor the Saxons, could
claim predominance, for the sovereign’s authority was exercised
apart from all these tribal influences, and yet at the same time the
characteristics of the tribe, local sentiment, and customary law, were
not broken up by the central government. The Teutonic local division,
the “Gau,” was no more interfered with than the Gallic “Civitas.” The
power at the top of all, formed by the armed hosts of the component
parts of the Empire and by the clergy, was expressed in institutions
that kept the body politic together. In the assemblies, all the
different nationalities took part, and acted under the guidance of the
single will of a single ruler, who was kept from the capricious action
of a tyrant by his firm hold on the ideal of a Christian commonwealth.
The principles of the whole imperial system harmonized with popular
governmental traditions, and both in their social and in their
religious aspects answered to the popular conceptions of membership in
a world-wide church.

Charles, in his plans for the succession, looked forward to a ruling
family controlling by descent a singularly heterogeneous collection
of races. It is unthinkable, as an historical principle, that the
traditions and customs of race and tribe could be long suppressed.
Since the time of Germanic invasions they had been the most potent
factor in the evolution of Western Europe; and, though they were kept
in the background by the energy and character of the Emperor, it only
needed a few crises to call them forth into activity. Out of the
interplay of these tribal interests and racial divergencies has grown
modern Europe.

A further weakness in the Carolingian structure was due to the
relation of the secular and the ecclesiastical authority. The grounds
of conflict, even in Charles’ own time, were never far distant. The
Emperor’s diplomacy and personality smoothed the acerbities away, and
his attitude of compromise found ready imitators in such Popes as
Hadrian I and Leo III. There would have been a different outcome if,
on his visits to Rome, he had been faced by a Pope of the temperament
of Nicholas I. The possible independence of the spiritual power the
Emperor did little to prevent by legislation. There was no way of
avoiding such disputes, and the struggles for supremacy between Empire
and Papacy attained their full development in the thirteenth century.

Charles, too, showed no willingness to deal radically with the
customary laws of succession of the Frankish people, and in this sphere
he was far more conservative than the Lombards or the Ostrogoths. The
principle of division among the heirs rather than unity of territory,
meant in itself a great danger. It would have caused trouble to Charles
himself had not his brother been removed by death early in the reign.
Yet the Emperor set a strong precedent for its recognition in his own
disposition of the Empire among his three sons. The position of Louis
was due to an accident, and the old question was bound to emerge again
when the rights of his various children, as his heirs, came to be
considered. Nothing was done to prescribe how the exercise of sole rule
as Emperor was to be carried out when the subordinate rulers of his own
house proved reluctant to obey their head.

The Empire plainly was only secure if its various rulers could consent
to work harmoniously together; a division among them, a break between
the Church and the State, the exaltation of the idea of nationality and
race, were all possibilities which would surely destroy the integrity
of Charles’ imperial construction. The history of the century after his
death shows the weak sides of the Emperor’s benevolent optimism. He
contemplated a great Christian republic directed by a family united in
its members and guided by patriarchal instinct. In working out this
program, Charles was an opportunist as well as an optimist; he took the
component political factors as he found them, and introduced them as
the stones of a mosaic, thinking more of the whole than of the parts,
seemingly oblivious of the disparity of the elements he was introducing
into the fabric. The distinctions of race were certain to become
accentuated the moment the central power showed weakness and proved
itself unable to be an effectual protection against anarchy within or
attacks from the outside.

In its political creativeness the Emperor’s work was framed on a
smaller scale than he contemplated. He proposed an Empire, but he
really founded kingdoms--the historic kingdoms of Western Europe. The
inheritors of his system were the territorial monarchs, who took from
him the conception of a supreme secular power closely united with the
Church. The actual central authority established by Charles soon passed
away, but the peoples included within it, endowed with the energy
proceeding from him, as a source, survived and developed. The ground
prepared by him was the foundation for the national kingdoms with
whose vicissitudes and progress the course of civilization has been
unalterably connected. He has been well named, therefore, the Patriarch
of Europe, the Abraham in whose seed the political world has been
blessed.

The ablest monarchs of Europe, both in the Middle Ages and in modern
times, from Otto III to Napoleon, including Frederic Barbarossa and
Louis XIV, all have felt the power of his personality. Napoleon speaks
of him as his illustrious predecessor. Yet, as a politician, Charles
was inferior to his father, Pippin, whose shrewdness in arranging
momentous political combinations he did not inherit, and on the field
of battle he was not the equal of his grandfather, Charles Martel. He
never won a battle such as Poictiers, and with one or two exceptions
the narrative of his campaigns shows nothing of the skilful and
spectacular generalship of Belisarius.

In his wars no unusual gifts of strategy were required; no great
mastery of tactics was necessary. But he was what one of his
contemporaries declared, “the powerful fighter who smote the Saxons
and humbled the hearts of the Franks and Barbarians, who had been able
to resist the might of the Romans.” His campaigns attest energy and
obstinacy, a clear-sighted ability to see when and where a decisive
blow must be delivered. He never lost his head in a dangerous position,
and so he was able to take in a military problem in its various
aspects, and while resting at one stage of a conflict, he could quietly
prepare to overcome his adversaries in a second move.

His mind was well balanced, it worked logically and with a large
vision, and he aimed at acting in such a way that the innumerable
details of his work as ruler would be explicable and could harmonize
as parts of a well-considered whole. He was general-in-chief, and he
also realized as we have seen, Constantine’s description of himself in
relation to the Church, as “chief bishop for its external affairs.”
As a judge, Charles was the supreme court of appeal, and was in
this capacity remarkable for his severity and unsparing attitude
to the guilty. Though he was not a genius as an administrator, he
showed industry and judgment in using and in improving such organs
of government as were known in his day in Western Europe. As we have
pointed out, his capitularies show him to us as a great landlord,
familiar with agricultural methods, able to measure the economic needs
of a large estate, and to act accordingly, possessing an extraordinary
amount of practical energy and versatility.

There was no limit to his interests, and he brought in a high
conception of duty. Up to the close of his life nothing was too small
to escape his personal supervision; he kept count of the chickens
on his personal estates, dictated his capitularies, and learned the
art of writing, a rare accomplishment, and deemed among the Teutonic
races the special work of a cleric. He presided over assemblies and
councils, ordered the system of chanting in his private chapel, and
hardly a year passed by that he did not visit one of the frontiers of
the Empire. His mental capacity was characterized by something of the
mobility which belonged to the Renaissance period, a trait not seen
among medieval rulers, and perhaps paralleled only in the case of
Frederick II. His talents were not employed towards futile ends; he
economized them, and while he was open to impressions, he kept with
scrupulousness his store of energy under control. He was free from
Napoleon’s defect of fitting all things as parts of a rigid system, and
he knew when to keep his hands from disarranging a firmly established
social order.

It may be that a larger measure of interference from him would have
prevented the growth of feudal privileges which the land system of
Western Europe was already producing. This evolution he did not
oppose; in some cases his own acts furthered it. The court and “missi”
under his direction became, as it were, observers and directors of a
naturally developing type of local administration which the general
ordinances of the Empire did nothing to repress. Feudal customs, still,
of course, in their germ, were pressed into the service of the state,
as for example when the lord was required to appear accompanied by his
dependents at the general military assembly of the King. The Emperor
was quick in reconciling local divergencies, and in discerning some
easily practicable method of making seemingly irreconcilable factors
contribute mutually to his ends. When a governmental order failed,
he was fertile in discerning an immediate remedy, careless whether
the innovation of a reform could be theoretically accommodated to the
administration as it before existed. Wherever the structure he planned
turned out faulty, he went to work with the spirit of an artist who
thinks more of the safety of the whole building than of the harmony of
its parts. His ideal of rule was always before him, yet there was none
of the stage effect of which Napoleon was so fond. He did not try to
impress upon others principles that did not attract his own sympathies.
He believed in what he did and believed the way he was doing it was
consistent with his own ideals of right, personal and social. The
empire was to be a community guided by Christian standards, a visible
embodiment of the City of God, as understood in his day.

The dream was a mighty one, and proved inspiring largely because it was
impersonal. The Emperor stood as the champion, unselfish and devoted,
of progress, so far as his age appreciated that much abused term. It
was, at least, a reality in respect to the conscious effort on his
part to moralize government, and by doing so to contribute to an ideal
solidarity of men and races. Yet the task he had assigned himself was
too great; and his work remained but an unfinished sketch, soon to be
demolished in the troublous and hopeless reigns of his descendants.

       *       *       *       *       *

THE OTTOMANS




I OSMAN


The empire of the Seldjoukian Turks by which the crusading conquests
were destroyed, showed no greater powers of endurance than the
other creations of Moslem rule; it did not escape the tendency to
dismemberment due to the transfer of personal and autocratic control
into the hands of rulers of mediocre ability. By the beginning of the
fourteenth century the effect of disintegration showed itself plainly
and definitely in Western Asia throughout the territory which had
been won from the Emperors of Eastern Rome. One of the results of the
expansion of the Mongol conquests towards the West was to hasten not
only the division among the Seldjouks, but their speedy downfall. Their
Sultans found no safety against the pressure of the Mongols on their
territories, even though they combined with their Christian neighbors,
with whom they had kept up for so long incessant warfare, against a
danger which threatened annihilation to all races and peoples in the
path of the Mongol hordes from the East. The Turks made peace with
the Greeks at Nicæa, and even engaged the help of Frankish mercenary
troops, but these counsels of despair did not save them from becoming
tributaries to the Mongol rulers of Asia.

As early as 1243 the fatal course of the decadence was marked by
constant defeat, and from this time on they were not able to defend
their position. The Sultanate came practically to an end with the death
of Masud II of Iconium, who was murdered by one of his emirs, though
the Mongols continued the office, ruling under the name of Alaed-Din
II, 1297-1307. Of the ten fragments which represented the former
empire of the Seldjouks, one was controlled by Osman, from whose name
the latest and most enduring effort to establish a Moslem world power
takes its origin. Within the restricted bounds of a small emirate,
whose most important point was the ancient city of Dorlæum, now called
Sultan-Oeni, was trained and developed the people who were destined to
make great European conquests lasting down to our own day, to threaten
for many centuries Christian powers at their most vulnerable centers,
and, finally, when their own ability to conquer and devastate had come
to an end, to stir up such constant jealousies among the states which
claimed the succession to their dominions in Europe, that some of the
most disastrous and hardly contested wars in the nineteenth century
have been due to their presence on European soil.

No more than in the case of Mohammed could such far-reaching
consequences have been detected in the obscure beginnings of the
people over whom Osman began to rule as an independent prince. Nearly
a century before, his ancestor Souliman had led a migration from
Khorassan; with tribal adherents numbering 150,000, he took possession
of lands near Erzendjan and Akhlath; then came the invasion of the
Mongols, which brought ruin to these plans of settlement. Souliman,
in his flight from the invaders, was drowned as he was crossing the
Euphrates at a place called to-day Turk-Mesari, the tomb of the Turk.
On his death the nomads who followed his leadership were dispersed;
even his four sons failed to keep together. Two returned to the place
from which they had come, while the other two, Dundar and Ertoghroul,
keeping four hundred families with them, occupied territories near
Erzeroum. But as the proximity of the Mongols held out no prospect of
peaceful possession, the two brothers continued their march westward,
and finally put themselves under the protection of Ala-ed-Din I, Sultan
of the Seldjouks. (1219-1234.)

According to the legendary account, while Ertoghroul was making his
way West, he found himself on the top of a mountain ridge, where,
looking down on the plain, he saw two armies about to engage each
other. He decided to help those who were weaker, and adding his
warriors to those who were giving way, he put the enemy to flight.
At the close of the battle he found that he had brought victory over
a horde of Mongols to the armies of Ala-ed-Din I, who, as a reward
for this unexpected aid, gave the newcomers the mountain regions of
Toumanidj and Ermeni as a dwelling place in summer, and the plain of
Soegud for their winter quarters. Ertoghroul showed his loyalty to his
new sovereign by undertaking successful raids against the outposts of
the Greek Empire of Nicæa in parts adjacent to his own lands. Although
under a Moslem overlord, Ertoghroul and his people still continued
faithful to their ancestral polytheism, but he showed such great
respect for the sacred volume of Mohammed, that it was not surprising
when his son and successor, Osman or Othman (1288-1326), became
converted to the religion of Islam.

This important event was connected with his marriage with the daughter
of a cheikh belonging to the Seldjouks, Edebali, who, according to the
legends of the Ottoman race, mysteriously foretold the future greatness
of his son-in-law, and worked actively for the conversion of all his
people. Up to this time the followers of Osman were nothing more than a
band of nomads of mixed race composed of Turcomans, probably containing
two Mongol elements. This change of religion not only gave them unity,
but enabled them in the critical period of the Mongol conquests to act
as a center around which were gathered all those of the Turkish race
who held to Mohammedan orthodoxy. The first step was the absorption of
the Seldjouks, a process natural enough because of racial affinity, but
as time went on religious professions, not racial relationship, became
so predominant a characteristic in Ottoman rule, that converts of all
nationalities, Greeks, Slavs, Albanians, Roumanians, and Magyars, were
absorbed without prejudice as to racial origin, and from the mere
fact of profession of Mohammedanism were recognized just as fully as
Ottoman Turks as if they had descended from the parent stock.

The social phenomenon of Western Europe, where the cohesive force of
Christianity brought together people of Germanic, Celtic, and Roman
origin, found its counterpart in this new national development of
Mohammedan orthodoxy. It took place, too, just at a time when the old
supporters of Islam, the Arabs, the Persians, and the Berbers had
entered upon a stage of decadence. As a political power Islam was going
to pieces, when new vigor was infused into it by a fresh and warlike
race of barbarians, who, as convinced converts with all the fanaticism
of a recently acquired faith, restored the simpler traditions of
the Koran that had been lost or weakened, wherever the disciples
of Mohammed were brought in contact with civilizing influences or
wherever, in their mutual divisions, they had made terms of alliance
with Christian rulers.

Predatory warfare was the training which gave the Ottoman Turks their
irresistible power as conquerors; they were organized as an army
disciplined and ever ready to strike. No better field for such training
could have been found than the territory of Anatolia when the empire of
the Seldjouks disappeared, and a condition of affairs arose, of which
Northern Spain, at a somewhat earlier period, is a parallel instance of
prevailing anarchy and local turmoil.

Some of the semi-independent fortresses under Greek commanders,
who presided over narrow territories in the same way as the feudal
seigneurs of Western Europe, were reduced by Osman. With these
additions to his domains he had no hesitation in proclaiming himself
an independent prince on the death of Ala-ed-Din. Soon afterward he
conquered all the region near the river Songora, which gave approach
to the sea coast and so offered an opportunity for equipping piratical
expeditions that terrorized the islands and shores of the Greek Empire
and the Latin states of the East. At this time the emirate under Osman
covered the greater part of the ancient provinces of Galatia and
Bithynia.

To this position of mastery must be ascribed the rapid acquisition of
leadership by Osman. The territory he now governed was close to the
important centers of Greek rule. Broussa, Nicæa, and Nicomedia were the
specially selected points of attack in this effort to extend Moslem
power over Northwestern Asia, which still remained in Christian hands.
The prizes were great and the religious merit considerable; there was
enough, then, to attract the most valiant warriors who joined the army
of Osman from other emirates. Even mercenary troops of Greek, Slavic,
and Latin origin served under the Turkish banner.

The plan of conquest showed skilful and cautious strategy. Osman
adopted the policy of overshadowing the great fortresses of the Greek
Empire by placing near them strongholds of his own garrisoned with men
ready to surprise their opponents at the first favorable opportunity.
Broussa soon found itself within the grasp of the Turk. There were
two forts dominating its very gates, one on the east, the other on
the west. An important town near it, Edrenos, was taken when Osman’s
son, Ourkhan, forced the city to capitulate, the inhabitants being
given, in return for 30,000 pieces of gold, the right to retire with
their property. The governor became a convert to Islam--a detail which
is typical of the Turkish conquests. These new supporters found it
to their advantage to change their allegiance. Such cases are often
mentioned in these early years of the expansion of the Ottoman emirate,
and they are indicative of a well-devised policy to sap the foundations
of resistance.

Another even more striking example of the results of a change of
allegiance from Christianity to Mohammedanism is found in the case of
Mikhal-Koeze (Michael with the pointed beard), the Greek governor of
the castle, who, after becoming a prisoner of war, was most kindly
treated by Osman. The bonds of friendship between the two grew so
strong that Mikhal embraced Islamism and signalized himself by his
fidelity as an ally and subordinate officer. He is the ancestor of
the family of Mikhal Oghli (sons of Michael), who in a long line of
descent held the command of the irregular troops in the Turkish army.

The close of Osman’s career had nothing to record in the way of an
exploit equal to the capture of Broussa. In 1326 the conqueror died
and was buried in the city, the possession of which marked the chief
success of his remarkable reign. Here in after generations were
shown the chaplet of rough-ground wood, the enormous drum given him
by Ali-ed-Din, and the great carved double-edged sword wielded by
the founder and champion of the Ottoman Empire. But the rapidity and
importance of Osman’s conquests had not changed the tastes of the
tribal chieftain; all that he left to his heirs were horses, oxen, some
sheep, a spoon, a salt cellar, an embroidered kaftan, and a turban.

Ourkhan, who followed Osman, proved that he had inherited his father’s
capacity for war and statesmanship. His brother was made vizier, with
special charge of the organization of the army, which, in its various
arms, preserved for centuries the marks of a military intelligence
far superior to that shown in the organization of the armies of
medieval Europe. The regular troops were divided into janitschars (foot
soldiers), and spahis (horsemen), while the irregular forces had the
same two divisions under the names of akindji and azabs.

The advance of conquest still went on upon a large scale. Soon
Nicomedia, the ancient capital of Diocletian, surrendered to the
Turks. In a battle at Maldepe the Greek Emperor Andronicus III
suffered a defeat that led to the loss of all the Asiatic possessions
of the Greeks. Nicæa, the second city of the empire, was obliged to
yield to the conqueror, who gave the inhabitants the same terms as
those accorded to the people of Broussa. The moral effect of this
blow was immense, because Nicæa had been the starting point for the
revival of Greek civilization and political rule after the taking of
Constantinople by the Latins. It was also sacred as the seat of two
great ecumenical councils. Now, the church where the Nicene Creed was
proclaimed, became a mosque, and the city, with its name transformed
into the Turkish disguise of Isnik, lost its historical identity.
(1330.)

After the seizure of some small seaports on the Black Sea and the
Propontis, the whole of Bithynia fell into Turkish hands. There were
only the narrow straits between the Osmanlis and Europe; on the Asiatic
side the only places which still belonged to the Greek Empire were
Scutari and Philadelphia. As Ourkhan’s dominions expanded, he followed
his father’s precedent in dividing the land into sandjaks (banners).
Nicæa was intrusted, on account of its importance, to the eldest son,
Souliman, who then, on his own account, resolved to attempt the passage
into Europe. In his adventure he was accompanied only by a handful of
companions; two rafts were constructed of the trunks of trees joined by
thongs of leather, and with these a landing was made at Tzympe, which
was seized without trouble, as the fortifications of the place had
fallen into ruins (1356).

Not long after this event an earthquake shook the walls of Gallipoli
and other neighboring towns, a misfortune which made them all an easy
prey for Souliman’s officers. When the Greek Emperor protested, Ourkhan
answered that his latest conquests were due, not to his arms, but to
the will of God that had been revealed in the earthquake. Gallipoli
was the key to Europe, and it was not given up. Using it as a base,
the Osmanlis commenced to make marauding expeditions into the adjacent
country.




II MURAD I


There followed in succession to Ourkhan, not Souliman, who died in one
of the raids into Thrace, but Murad I, whose mother was a Greek. In
some respects he was a greater leader than his father, Ourkhan; he is
spoken of in the chronicles as eloquent, devoted to justice, and a
strict disciplinarian. At the same time he was beloved by his troops
because of his generosity. Although he had no education, not even the
ability to read and write, he was known as a great builder of mosques,
schools, and hospitals. When he had a document to sign he dipped
four fingers in the ink, and, keeping them as far apart as possible,
impressed them on the paper; the impression so made was worked up
artistically into the imperial Osmanli seal. His success in warfare
was due not only to his own valor, but also to the number of able
commanders who conducted his campaigns under his directions.

The European successes of his elder brother could not be followed up
immediately, because the notable victories of the Osmanlis had excited
the jealousy of the remaining Seldjouk emirs in Asia. Ourkhan had
himself warred with the Prince of Karasi and so been able to add Mysia
with Pergamum to his territories. Now Murad’s reign was opened by a
contest with the emir of Karamania, another Ala-ed-Din, who stirred
up many of the Osmanli dependencies to revolt. The city of Angora was
the center of this insurrection. Murad overcame the rebels, placed a
garrison in Angora, and adopted a policy of gradual absorption in order
to keep the Seldjouk emirates from forming a coalition against him.
One was ceded outright and a large part of another became the marriage
portion of the wife of Bajesid, son of Murad. The situation in Asia,
owing to the restlessness of the remaining emirs, who represented
another branch of the Turkish stock, continued to be a source of
difficulty for many years, and the final and complete conquest of the
whole of Anatolia only took place when the European Empire of the
Osmanlis was an accomplished fact.

The armies of Murad had now occupied Thrace; hence they were brought
into immediate contact with the two strong Slavic nations on the Balkan
peninsula, the Bulgarians and the Servians. These South Slavic peoples,
after centuries of struggle for supremacy with the Eastern Empire, had
been overpowered by the superior wealth, strategy, and civilization of
the rulers of Constantinople in the beginning of the eleventh century.
But the Latin conquest of Constantinople made it easy for them to
regain the ground they had lost. In the course of the struggle between
the Byzantines and the Crusaders, the movements towards independence
among the Servians and Bulgarians were facilitated. After the year 1261
accessions of territory were made by both branches of the Slavic race.
Besides contesting possession of Balkan territory with the Magyars they
warred among themselves for the acquisition of lands in the Maritza
basin and along the rivers Strouma and Vardar.

In this rivalry the Servians secured the greatest prizes in the way
of territorial expansion. By the end of the thirteenth century they
had reached the sea coast, and had occupied the region around the two
lakes Ochrida and Prespa. About the same time the movement to expand
their frontiers at the expense of the Greek Empire again became marked.
Northern Albania was conquered and additional lands were seized in
Macedonia. These successes led to a coalition between the Bulgars and
the Greeks; but this scheme to block the Servians failed. There was a
great battle at Velbouje, at which the Bulgarian army was completely
crushed. The plan of the Servians was to secure the alliance of their
rivals by a marriage between their leader, Stephen Douchan, and the
sister of Tsar Michael, the head of the Bulgars.

Douchan is often called the Charlemagne of Servia, but the title is
only true if measured by an unrealized dream. His reign marks the
limit of Servian ambition; he looked forward to an imperial position
under which the Slavs would become the heirs of the dignities and
domains of the Byzantine Empire, a position they deserved because of
the inability of the Greeks to defend their lands from the advancing
power of the Turk. For a time the dream seemed on the point of
realization, as Douchan’s various campaigns against the Greeks were
successful. The alliance with the Bulgars was maintained unbroken, and
only a very small part of the European possessions of the Emperors at
Constantinople remained intact. Thrace and a strip of Asia Minor was
all that was left; there was every reason to urge Douchan to proclaim
his overlordship in the regular way. Accordingly, on April 16, 1346,
Douchan was solemnly anointed Emperor (Tsar) of Servia and Roumania by
the Servian Patriarch Joannikos, at Uskup.

The next step was the conquest of the imperial city on the Bosphorus.
This could not be effected without a fleet; neither Thessalonika nor
Constantinople could be taken as long as their ports were open. Douchan
turned to the Venetians for help, but they refused to encourage the
formation of a new great power on the Mediterranean. Besides, the
Turks now barred the way, for Gallipoli had been garrisoned. The
Osmanlis, therefore, held the key to the Dardanelles. Undeterred,
however, by these changes, Douchan girded himself for a final attack
on Constantinople, when death overtook him suddenly on the 20th of
December, 1355.

His successor, Ourach, was only nineteen years old, a young man of mild
character, with none of the stern qualities needed to carry out the
warlike plans of his father. His vassal lords had not lived long enough
under a centralized system to understand its advantages even under
a weak ruler. Without the strong personality of Douchan, the empire
and the titular dignity of Tsar were only shadows. Less fortunate
than the tribe of Osman, where the line from father to son maintained
in unbroken succession under strong personal rule the clear-sighted
aims of the founder, the Servians could not resist the forces of
disintegration. Their country was mountainous, and hence the people
were kept apart in small, isolated communities. There was no longer a
vigorous leader to resist the centrifugal tendencies imposed by petty
ambitions and jealousies; and only for ten years after Douchan’s death
did the external form of his empire last. As a barrier against the
Turkish conquerors in Europe the Servians proved utterly ineffective.

With the Slavs eliminated the brunt of resistance naturally fell
upon the Greeks; but they were now only an emaciated remnant of
a great and long enduring empire that had worn out the Arab and
Saracen and had held the Slav at bay. After the fall of the Latin
rule at Constantinople (1261), the city became the capital of the
reconstructed Eastern Empire; but the scale of this restoration was
much reduced from its original grandeur. There were four groups of
imperial territories: the Asiatic possessions that had been controlled
from Nicæa, economically important as trade centers, but not great in
extent; in Europe, the capital and Thrace; some towns to the North,
such as Adrianople, a part of Macedonia, the peninsula of Gallipoli,
Chalcidice, and a part of Thessaly; certain islands in the Ægean,
Rhodes, Lesbos, Samothrace, Imbros, and the Peloponnesus in Greece.

These possessions, the feeble remnants of the realm once ruled by Basil
the Macedonian, were surrounded by lands inhabited by numerous races.
There were the Frankish lands in Greece, the Venetians in the Ægean,
an independent Greek sovereignty in Epirus, Catalans in Thessaly,
Genoese in the Black and Ægean Seas, and the parts immediately adjacent
to Constantinople itself; the Seldjouk sultans at Iconium, and the
autonomous empire of Trebizond. There were also the Slavic peoples
in the Balkan peninsula, not to mention the more distant Christian
kingdoms of Armenia and Georgia.

As a military power the revived Greek Empire was pathetically feeble.
Its last great leader in war was Michael VIII, who had retaken
Constantinople from the Latins, a conquest on a slight scale, since
the Latins were even weaker than their opponents. The measure of Greek
offensive is attested by the inability of any Greek Emperor to retake
the Asiatic provinces from the Turk, to annex the Empire of Trebizond,
to resist the Slavs in the Balkans, or to reoccupy the islands of the
Ægean and drive the Franks from Greece. Even in the interior there was
no effective administration. In every Greek city there were colonies of
Italian merchants, either Genoese or Venetian, who formed independent
communities under their own podestà. The army was filled with foreign
contingents, who were not even mercenary troops, because the Empire
could not afford to hire soldiers. They were auxiliary forces,
organized as complete military units under their own natural chief, and
were a constant menace. When they saw fit, they pillaged the country
and sometimes fought among themselves. They were under no kind of
control from the central or local authorities; within their own camps
on the frontiers, in the provinces, even under the walls of the capital
itself, they obeyed their own commanders and not the Emperor.

One of the most radical changes for the worse in the revived Greek
Empire, a change that marked the contrast with the heroic period of
Byzantine military enterprise, was the lack of a fleet. For his naval
operations the Emperor depended on the Venetians or Genoese, a most
unsatisfactory arrangement, for, owing to the jealousy of these two
commercial states, if one were the ally of Constantinople, the other
was certain to be on the opposite side. In 1296 the Venetians, after
defeating their rivals at sea, laid siege to the Pera and Galata
sections of Constantinople, the seat of the Genoese colony, and in
setting fire to the quarter destroyed many Greek houses. Later on, the
Genoese revenged themselves by massacring the Venetian residents of
Constantinople.

The anarchy was increased when, owing to rival claimants to the throne,
open civil war broke out, as it did frequently in the course of the
fourteenth century. Cantacuzene, an official in the imperial palace,
who became rival Emperor, while Anna of Saxony was regent during the
minority of her son, John V, after the death of his father, Andronicus
III, allied himself with the Servians and with the Seldjouk emir of
Konia. Anna tried to strengthen her side by calling upon Ourkhan, the
Osmanli Sultan. In the war that followed the Turks were authorized
to seize the citizens of the empire, and the rival governments placed
at the disposition of their Mohammedan allies seaports and vessels.
The captives taken were sent to Asia and sold as slaves in the Turkish
emirates.

The various enemies of the Empire used this time of civil strife as
a favorable opportunity for seizing its territory. Stephen Douchan
conquered and annexed most of Macedonia, and, as their part of
the spoil, the Genoese acquired Chios and commenced a blockade of
Constantinople, the defense of which was intrusted to other Italians
under the command of Facciolati. This leader deserted the cause of the
regent Anna, and admitted Cantacuzene into the capital. An arrangement
was now patched up by which Cantacuzene was to be Emperor until John V
reached the age of twenty-five years.

Even now Cantacuzene’s troubles as ruler were not over; his plan to
form an independent navy recruited from his own subjects and his desire
to do away with the commercial monopoly of the Genoese led to a war
of five years, 1348-1352. Cantacuzene’s Venetian allies were defeated
under the walls of Constantinople, with the result that the Greek
Emperor was obliged to make peace under most disadvantageous terms.
Not long after this disaster civil war broke out again. Souliman,
Ourkhan’s son, was a subsidized ally of Cantacuzene, and thousands of
the inhabitants of the Empire were deported by the Turks to be sold as
slaves.

The lessons of these wars were not lost upon the Turkish auxiliaries
who were allowed to play such a conspicuous and decisive rôle by both
sides; they became acquainted with the country in which they had
served, knew its roads, cities, and inhabitants. All this information
was put to good use by them when they crossed the Bosphorus to fight
for their own interests and to dispossess their former employers at
Constantinople.

From the point of view of its economic status the Empire was in no
condition to withstand an invasion. As territory was lost the proceeds
of direct taxation fell off; increases in the customs duties were
opposed and blocked by the Genoese and Venetians; the government lived
from hand to mouth. In 1306 when the Catalan mercenaries had to be
paid, Andronicus II put an end to the wheat monopoly exercised by the
Italians. Another characteristic expedient of this weak government
was the debasement of the coinage. But all the ordinary schemes for
raising money must have failed by the middle of the century, for we
find Anna of Saxony using the treasures of churches to pay for the
war against Cantacuzene. Indeed, her court had reached a condition
of extreme penury in 1347, when, at a coronation it was found that
the imperial jewels had disappeared. The splendid buildings of the
city were fast going to pieces. In Santa Sophia there were large
cracks, which necessitated the erection of two of the existing great
supporting buttresses that have enabled it to survive to our time
the frequent earthquakes that disturb the city. In the absence of a
centralized government the local administration lost all resemblance
to the admirably constructed system of the earlier period of Byzantine
rule when, as contrasted with Western Europe, it still preserved the
efficiency and smoothness of Roman governmental traditions. The local
authorities lived on the country, uncontrolled from Constantinople,
except irregularly and ineffectively.

In reality, under the name of empire, all varieties of local
organizations existed side by side; some places were ruled by petty
tyrants, while others were municipal republics. In the important port
of Thessalonika, Italian precedents were closely followed. Here there
were four classes of citizens, the notables, the clergy, the bourgeois,
and in the lowest class the “populari.” Each class enjoyed complete
autonomy. They were organized in trade corporations, had their own
system of justice, and finally got supreme control of the town, turning
it into a democracy under the presidency of their metropolitan. When
Cantacuzene undertook to bring the rebels to reason, the archbishop,
in pleading the cause of the city-state, declared that his republic
was based on equality and justice, and said that its laws were better
than those of the Republic of Plato.

There was another factor in this state of anarchy, to wit, the
religious dissensions, due to the willingness of some of the clergy
to accept union with the Papacy and to introduce Latin customs, an
attitude dating from the time of the Latin Empire. Apart from these
questions of ecclesiastical policy, there was much discussion of
theological subtilties concerning the existence of a supernatural
illumination in the soul, a controversy which divided the Church and
the imperial court. This trouble was settled by a synod, which decreed
that those espousing the new doctrine should be imprisoned.

In a land so situated and so far fallen from its earlier estate, the
rapid conquests of the Osmanlis appear as due not so much to the valor
and intelligence of the adherents of Islam as to the inability of the
Christians to act or work together. The one security of the Empire was
the comparative weakness of the Turkish sea power. The Ottoman ships
were good enough for piratical expeditions, but there was no Turkish
fleet at all able to cope with the navies of Genoa or Venice.

At the very beginning of Murad’s accession, a consistent plan of
attack was inaugurated, designed to cut off Constantinople from its
“hinterland”; the objective being the trade road between the capital
and Adrianople. Several of the important points on this line were
taken, Murad making his residence temporarily near Demotika. According
to Turkish custom, each spring brought a new expedition and a further
enlargement of the existing boundaries. The siege of Adrianople itself
soon began. (1360.) The Greek chronicles speak of its fall being due to
a betrayal of a secret path used by peasants inside the walls to get
to their fields. But the Turkish annals tell of an engagement between
the garrison and the Osmanli soldiers. In the city Murad took up his
residence, being attracted to it by its importance as a trading place
frequented by Venetians, Genoese, Florentines, and Catalans, as well
as by Turks and Greeks.

Following soon the course of the river Maritza, on which Adrianople
stands, the Turkish invaders moved farther into the land until they
came to Philippopolis, which had been taken by the Bulgars not long
before. But the Slavs showed no greater capacity than the Greeks for
united action, and the town was taken from them without difficulty.
Other places were added, including Berrhœa on the Hæmus, and this whole
section of country for some time made up the northermost borders of
Ottoman dominion in Europe.

In the south the same kind of successes took place; again a trade route
was selected, this time the road to Thessalonika, and a considerable
stretch of the territory through which it passed was annexed. In one
place the sea coast was reached at a point opposite the Island of
Samothrace. Murad returned now to Broussa, interrupting a farther
advance towards Trnova and Sofia, places in the hands of the Servians,
whose power in war he respected and feared more than that of their
allied race, the Bulgars.

The menace caused by the Ottoman conquests was now being appreciated in
Western Europe, where, through the preaching of a crusade by Urban V, a
league was formed between Louis of Anjou, King of Hungary, and several
of the most powerful princes of the Balkan peninsula, both Roumanian
and Slav, for the purpose of driving out the Turks from their newly
acquired European possessions. With an army of 60,000 men the Christian
leaders reached the river Maritza, two days’ journey from Adrianople.
Murad was in Asia, besieging a Greek city on the Propontis, but he
was not needed, since a small detachment of the army of his general,
Lala-Schahin, came in contact with the Christians near Kermianon, and
put them to flight in a panic, in which the two Servian leaders lost
their lives. (1371.)

This victory is set down in the Servian records as a great national
disaster, and deservedly so. It ended their resistance, and it handed
over to the Turks the rest of Thrace, Bulgaria, and a part of Servia.
Significant of the impression made by the conquest was the action of
the people of Ragusa, who signed a treaty of peace, inspired by a
desire to gain commercial advantages from the new Turkish conquests.
They agreed to pay an annual tribute of 500 golden ducats, and thus
they inaugurated a policy imitated by many of their stronger neighbors,
who preferred to make a good bargain with the Ottomans rather than try
the fortunes of war under the auspices of rival Christian states, whose
political aggrandizement, in case a victory were won over the infidel,
was dreaded even more than the expansion of an alien race.

Yet the theory of a united Christendom was maintained despite its
pitiable outcome in the Balkans. Elsewhere there were brilliant feats
of arms, but they were isolated, and being directed by no consistent
plan, proved of no lasting advantage. Peter of Cyprus, a representative
of the Latin dynasty which had held the island since the days of the
earlier Crusades, regarded himself as the guardian of Christian hopes
in the Orient because of his titular dignity of King of Jerusalem. He
took Alexandria in 1365, and helped by Rhodes, Genoa, and contingents
sent by the Pope, he later took Satalieh (Attalia), a place situated in
one of the Seldjouk emirates. Some advantages were gained, too, on the
coast of Syria.

There was little chance of permanent success so long as the princes
and states of the West with their divergent interests, dynastic or
commercial, confronted such a solidly compacted power as that raised
up by Osman. The Turks had a single aim, simple and direct, and they
kept hammering away at their enemies, putting in telling blows at the
right moment and the right place. On the other hand, the Christian
cause suffered both from the leadership of the Papacy, with its rigid
insistence on establishing Western ecclesiastical rule in the East, and
from the sordid self-seeking of the Genoese and Venetians. From both
points of view the conquest of the Greek Empire was generally regarded
as a necessary preliminary for making headway in the restoration of
Christian control over the Holy Land.

The hard case of the Eastern Emperor, whose few remaining possessions
were in the fast-closing grip of the Ottoman Sultan, is sketched
indelibly in the narrative of the Western journey of John V, who, while
the Turks were absorbing the Slavic lands about his empire, visited
Rome to ask the Pope’s aid. In the desperate state of his resources he
had borrowed at Venice, at exorbitant rates of interest, money to pay
the expenses of his trip. On his return empty-handed he was stayed at
Venice by his creditors, and the republic put him in prison. His son,
Andronicus, associated with his father in the Empire, had been left
behind at Constantinople. When the Emperor appealed to him for aid,
the reply came that the treasury was empty. The unfortunate sovereign
appealed with more success to a younger son, Manuel, who mortgaged his
estates and enabled his father to return home.

In May, 1372, the Pope again took the initiative in organizing an
anti-Ottoman league by writing to the Republic of Venice and the
King of Hungary a letter which described the achievements of the
“Saracens” in Thrace, their defeat of the “Servian lords in Greek
lands,” and the prospects of a farther advance of the infidel towards
the Adriatic. Bad news had come from Greece, too, of the possibility
of the Turkish invaders penetrating towards the south. A congress of
the Balkan states was called to meet at Thebes, a place under Frankish
and Roman Catholic rule; and it was a significant fact that no member
of the Eastern Church was asked to be present. A gathering of such a
restricted character could do nothing. There were at Thebes only a few
representatives of the small Latin principalities in Continental Greece
and the islands. Immediately after this gathering the Byzantine clergy
put forth in Constantinople a formal protest against the See of Rome
and appealed for help to the Knights of Rhodes.

Peter of Cyprus had been murdered by his barons in 1369, and the island
had fallen into the hands of the Genoese. In 1374 the small Frankish
kingdom of Armenia, an enclave between the Turkish and Mongol lands in
Asia, had come to an end with the capture of Sis. In 1378 the great
church schism in the West brought about a situation that prevented
the Papacy from taking further thought for what was now left of the
Christian East. Four years later Louis of Hungary died, leaving his
kingdom, a land especially interested in preventing the extension of
Turkish power in Europe, a prey to a civil war induced by the division
he had made of his dominions between his two daughters. There was no
longer even the semblance of a chance that European forces would unite
on a large scale to resist the Turks. The contest was left to the
weak and divided efforts of the small Frankish states in Greece; to
the Bulgars and Servians in the Balkans, who followed only desultory,
haphazard methods, and to the Greeks of the Empire, who were living on
the traditions of a great past.

Meanwhile, the Osmanlis were not disturbed by questions of religious
orthodoxy, and they were also spared the necessity of calling
congresses to decide the next step in their stealthy progress. In 1372,
under the personal supervision of Murad, expeditions were made by
which the whole of Roumelia to the Black Sea was not only made subject
to his rule, but Moslem families were settled in the conquered lands
and a regularly ordered system of local military government provided.
Then came the turn of the few remaining provinces still held by the
Greek Emperor. When Vizya (in Turkish, Wissa), an important city,
fell into Murad’s hands, John, whose bitter necessities had forced
him to pay tribute to the Turk and even to furnish a contingent for
military service, tried to recover his lost city. A punitive expedition
appeared in consequence near Constantinople, and some strong castles
were annexed; but nothing near the sea coast was taken, for the Sultan
had no desire to bring down upon himself the ill will of the Venetians
and other Italians, who would not tolerate any interference in their
control of the important waterways near Constantinople. For the same
reason, though constant additions were being made to Turkish territory
close to Thessalonika, no attempt was made to close in on the city for
fear of complications with the Latin powers, complications which might
excite such an outbreak of the crusading ardor that the Italian navies
might be used.

Considerably more important were the operations of the Sultan’s
lieutenant, Lala-Schahin. There were internal dissensions between the
Bulgars and the Roumanian Layko, a feudatory of the King of Hungary.
Allying himself with Layko, Lala-Schahin succeeded in capturing Sofia,
and for a while even Nisch was occupied. No attempt was as yet made by
the Slavs after their earlier defeat to protect themselves on a large
scale. At this point the method and aim of the pacific penetration
policy of the Sultan, which alternated with carefully devised methods
of military aggression, can be seen in the picturesque story of the
plot entered into by Andronicus, the son of John the Emperor, and
Sandschi, the son of Murad, to take the lives and the crowns of their
respective fathers. The conspiracy was detected and defeated, and
the young Turkish prince died from the effect of having hot vinegar
poured in his eyes. Andronicus, escaping from his prison, after the
common Byzantine penalty of blinding his sight had been, perhaps
intentionally, inflicted with such mildness that he regained it, made
a treaty with the Genoese and with Murad. He agreed to confer special
privileges on the Turks if they would help to secure for him the
imperial crown. For three years the usurpation lasted, and John and
his faithful son Manuel were only restored to their rights by Murad’s
friendly connivance, which was secured by the promise of 3000 ducats a
year. Of less value must have been the additional agreement that the
Byzantine princes would serve in the Sultan’s army.

Andronicus had fled to the Turkish lines and, through the intervention
of Murad, he received later Thessalonika as an appanage. He was
aided by the Genoese, while his father had as allies the Venetians,
a division of interests out of which grew the celebrated naval war,
called that of Chioggia, between the two rival cities of Italy. Murad
preferred to keep quiet while the two Italian naval powers were in
force in his neighborhood, and he devoted himself with much sagacity to
fishing in the troubled waters of the Asiatic emirates, with results
both in war and diplomacy that were eminently satisfactory.

In 1387 after there had been such successes of the Turks to record
as the surrender of Monastir, and Prilep, and Schtip, and even the
temporary seizure of Thessalonika, the Servians undertook, under the
direction of a feudal lord, Lazar, to organize a systematic plan of
resistance. Lazar was first aided by a Bosnian king, Tourtko, who had,
however, ambitious designs on certain lands under the Hungarian crown,
designs that soon robbed his promised co-operation of its influence.
Schischman of Bulgaria was drawn into the league, and in Lazar’s army
there appeared also contingents of Albanians and Roumanians standing
side by side with the Slavs. The crisis was fully appreciated by Murad.
He summoned new troops from Asia, and all the greatest generals took
part in the campaign, in addition to his two sons, Bajesid and Jakab.
The decisive battle was fought on ground that was part of Lazar’s own
domains near Prischtina, on the wide plains called Kossowopolje. Murad
was surrounded by his band of Janitschars; to hold back the enemy the
camels of the Asiatic troops were drawn up in front. The Christians
were confident in their superior number, for they had 200,000 men under
arms ready to begin the attack.

From a contemporary account comes the narrative of the death of the
Sultan. It is there told how ten young men of distinguished birth,
bound by oath to stand by one another, succeeded in forcing their
way to the tent of Murad. One of these, Mulasch Obilitsch, managed
to inflict two fatal wounds on the neck and body of the aged ruler.
But this successful stroke did not end the fight, for Bajesid, who
was renowned for the rapidity and daring of his generalship, drove
his wing of the Ottoman army into the Christian ranks, broke through
them, and put them to flight at the very moment they thought themselves
victorious. It is said that in the panic Lazar lost his life; probably
he was captured and subsequently sacrificed in revenge for the murder
of Murad. (June 15, 1389.)

Both armies withdrew after the battle. Murad’s fate made him a martyr
to the faith, and he is one of the Sahibs or Elect of Islam. Even the
Greeks praise his character as being benevolent towards the conquered,
whom he understood how to win over to his side after he had conquered
them by the irresistible force of his arms. He laid the foundations
of the Moslem state, adapting it shrewdly for rule over conquered
populations. They were accepted as tenants of the new owners of the
soil, paying tithes. The Sultan himself received the Kharadsch or
tribute money. At the same time the subject races retained their faith,
their customs, their church, their courts, and their aristocracy. The
warrior class was made up of native Turks and some renegades. These
became the sole owners of the land and had to take their place in
the regular yearly campaigns. There was, besides, a standing army of
young foot soldiers composed of captives taken in war, the Janitschar
class, who looked up to the Sultan as their father. For administrative
progress there was a corps of officials, whose functions descended
from father to son, composed of “Begs.” At the top of this bureaucracy
was a Beglerbeg for each half of the kingdom, one for Asia and one for
Europe, and a Wesir or Pascha, the equivalent in Turkish of the former
word, which is Arabic. The administrative divisions under the Begs
were called Sandjaks (flags) because these were carried by the Begs as
emblems of their authority.

The battle of Kossovo, in which both opposing armies lost their
leaders, became in Servian folklore and poetry a source of inspiration
of the kind that among Romance peoples gathers about the defeat
of Charles the Great in the Pyrenees and the death of Roland. The
incidents of the heroic theme take up the tragedy of the battle; Slavic
improvisers sing of the death of Lazar, of his father-in-law, the
aged King, and his nine brothers-in-law. Mulasch, the slayer of Murad,
who met his death in the flight, is not passed over, nor the 12,000
infidels who perished. Like Murad, Lazar, the “Servian crown of gold,”
is celebrated as a martyr of his faith, a hero who went voluntarily to
his death. The legend tells how St. Elias, in the form of a falcon,
came from the Holy City of Jerusalem, bringing him a letter from the
Mother of God, in which he was offered the choice of the heavenly
empire or dominion over the earth. Lazar made the choice which gave him
the spiritual kingdom.




III BAJESID


The first act of Bajesid’s accession was the murder of his younger
brother, whom he summoned to his presence and caused to be strangled.
This deed left Bajesid the sole representative of the house of Osman;
there was no rival now for him to fear. He wished to stand alone as
creator of his own statecraft, for he refused to respect any of the
arrangements or conventions made by Murad. His own ideal was foreign to
the loose feudalized system previously established; he desired to clear
away all the dependent dynasties, and to substitute for them officers
of his own, directly controlled by him.

The first important military operation of the new reign was directed
against Mircea, a Roumanian lord, who had seized and occupied
Nicopolis, lately surrendered to Ali-Pascha, Murad’s vizier, by
Schischman, before the battle of Kossovo. All the vassals were called
under arms to follow the Sultan, who crossed the Danube to where Mircea
was awaiting his attack in a position difficult of access on account of
roads and swamps. No details of the fight are given, but Bajesid was
the victor. (October 10, 1394.) Mircea fled to the Carpathians.

As one result of their victory the Turks left Bucharest in the hands
of an Ottoman garrison under the direction of a Roumanian Boyar Vlad,
who was appointed to take the place of Mircea, because of the latter’s
failure to perform the obligations of a faithful vassal, though he had
met with generous treatment from Bajesid after the battle of Kossovo.
He was not present at the battle itself, but rendered himself liable
to punishment by sending armed contingents of his own men to help
the Christian cause. He had been captured and exiled to Broussa; but
he was released on condition of paying a small tribute, and retained
his right of sovereignty over his subjects. More remarkable still,
Bajesid had undertaken not to permit any Turks to establish themselves
in Wallachia, or to found mosques in Mircea’s country. By presuming
on this favorable and exceptional treatment, Mircea again had brought
himself into the status of an exile.

Sigismund of Hungary saw the necessity of helping his unfortunate
neighbor Mircea with the Turks so close at hand. Moreover, the
Hungarian ruler’s relations with Western Europe, through his connection
with the house of Luxembourg, and his inheritance from Prince Louis of
Anjou, placed him in a good position to appeal to the warlike lords
and knights of France to aid him against infidel aggression. He turned
also to the Republic of Venice as a partner in the undertaking, but the
prudent merchants of that commonwealth showed no immediate interest in
the projected crusade.

The movement initiated from Hungary put heart into the Byzantines, who,
because of the change from the mild Murad to the relentless Bajesid,
were now hard pressed in the small corner of territory still left them.
There was moral depression as well, for Manuel II, when made co-Emperor
with his aged father John, had been obliged to accompany the Sultan
in all his campaigns with a contingent. This obligation revealed the
desperate straits of the Greek Empire, especially as the contingent
numbered only a hundred men. One Greek city, Philadelphia, the single
imperial possession in Asia Minor, had been attacked by Bajesid because
the citizens refused to receive a Turkish garrison, though John had
previously agreed to surrender it to Murad. Among the other vassals
who were called to take part in this campaign were Stephen, Prince of
the Servians, and Manuel, the Byzantine Emperor. As a further sign of
dependence on the Sultan’s will, who seemed bent on devising schemes to
humiliate the miserable Greek prince, Manuel had been forced to help
to repair the fortifications of Gallipoli, and also to coöperate with
the Turks in their preparations to send expeditions to Attica and some
of the islands of the Ægean. When John V began to restore some of the
ruined fortifications around the imperial city, Bajesid ordered him to
desist, threatening, if the command were not obeyed, to deprive Manuel
of his sight, for the heir, and co-Emperor, was, as usual, doing duty
as a vassal in one of the Turkish military expeditions.

On the death of John V, in 1391, Manuel was allowed to succeed to the
title, and, officially, good relations were observed between the Sultan
and the ruler of Constantinople. Bajesid, however, had no intention of
permitting Manuel, whom he knew to be a man of ability and decision,
to gain any new ground. The few places contiguous to Constantinople,
over which the Greeks still ruled, were constantly being harassed
by Ottoman aggressions. Manuel was really being besieged in his own
capital. His constant appeals for help were made in vain; the Venetians
found it commercially more advantageous to draw closer to the Osmanlis,
especially since Bajesid, by absorbing various emirates in Asia Minor,
was in control of important trading towns on that coast. A treaty was
concluded between the two powers, and the Venetians went so far as to
deny their help to the Frankish lords of the Ægean, and were preparing
to weaken continental Greece by efforts to gain territory in that
quarter at the expense of the Greek master of the Morea, a son of the
Emperor.

While Sigismund was seeking allies in the West against the Turks, and
Bajesid was elaborating plans for an invasion of the whole country
south of his European holdings, Thessalonika was retaken from the
Greeks. Without much difficulty Turkish troops in a raid westward
penetrated into the Morea, or Peloponnesus, itself, though a wall had
been built by the Venetians across the Isthmus. No permanent settlement
was made, but still the country suffered, for many of the inhabitants
were sold, and, during the course of the expedition, many cities of
Greece experienced, for the first time, the barbarism of a Turkish
invasion. This expedition to the south was like so many others under
the command of the local “Begs,” because Bajesid himself was bent on
completing the conquest of Bulgaria. After a long siege Tirnovo was
taken by assault; its churches were sacked, and it was, in general,
made an example by the ruthless conqueror. Even the dead were left
unburied. Along with a multitude of prisoners, the Bulgarian Patriarch
was taken to Asia. As to Sischman, he is reputed to have died, either
on the battlefield or in captivity; his capital, which had been the
residence of the Bulgar Tsars since 1200, sank to the level of a
small market town, though once it had been famous for its beautiful
buildings, constructed to rival or imitate those of Constantinople.
Bulgaria, already a poor fragment of its original extent after the
first stage of the invasion, now ceased altogether to exist as a Slav
state.

At this disastrous conjuncture for the Christian cause (1394),
Sigismund of Hungary intervened by sending representatives to Bajesid
to ask by what right he had destroyed Bulgaria. As an answer to the
delegation, Bajesid is said to have shown the bows and arrows which
decorated the hall of audience. Long anticipating the warlike aims
of the Hungarian King, Bajesid made ready to complete the siege of
Constantinople, and so to prevent any coöperation between the Greeks
and the Christian power farther north. Sigismund, who, as we have
mentioned, had relied on his influence in the West to get aid adequate
to the undertaking he had in hand, now knew that his embassy which
had visited France had been well received by the King, Charles VI, and
his great nobles, many of whom had agreed to take up arms. As head of
the expedition, John the Fearless, son of the Duke of Burgundy, had
been selected; there were gathered round him many well-known lords as
counselors, and a contingent of 10,000 men, foot and horse. Besides
these, there were contingents of knights from Germany, Luxembourg,
England, Switzerland, and the Low Countries. Even Venice was induced
to supply galleys and money for the cause. The Knights of Rhodes sent
their fleet and their Grand Master with it. The Slavs of Poland and the
Roumanians also joined the crusade. Even Manuel took heart and promised
to keep some of the Turkish army occupied by making an offensive
movement.

In July, 1396, the various contingents from the Occident met the
Hungarian and Roumanian armies at Bada. Mircea, who had had personal
experience with the Turkish military power, advised, with the wisdom
that comes from defeat, a policy of defensive action, that the allies
should wait for Bajesid’s advance into Hungary. But this dilatory
program was not acceptable to the Western knights, who declared that
they were there to fight, not to waste time in the inaction of a camp.
Accordingly the army went down the Danube to Ossovo, and the river was
crossed near the so-called Iron Gates.

After winning some initial successes in a land where only the garrisons
were Turkish, the crusaders, on September 12, reached Nicopolis, a
place well fortified and strongly held by a veteran Ottoman general,
Dogon-beg, who commanded a garrison of seasoned troops. At first the
French knights tried to take the place by storm; but there were not
enough ladders. It was, therefore, resolved to starve it out. The siege
was in progress when Bajesid arrived from Constantinople. When he heard
of the danger of his general he burnt his siege machines and hastened
to Nicopolis. The crusaders would not at first believe that the Sultan
was marching upon them; those who first reported the news in the camp
were treated as spies and had their ears cut off. When it was found to
be true, the Christians massacred the prisoners already taken.

In preparing for the battle there was a fatal diversity of views.
Sigismund wished to put Mircea’s men in the first line, since they
were not regarded as good warlike material; next to this division he
wished to station the Hungarians, and then, as the chief support of the
whole, the knights from the West. But the French would hear nothing of
this plan, which they regarded as equivalent to an insult; the place
in front belonged, they thought, to them by right. A few of the most
experienced counselors of John of Burgundy agreed with Sigismund, but
nothing could be done to persuade the mass of the French warriors to
give way. In the Ottoman army there were no differences of opinion;
the Sultan’s vassals were answerable to his command, and, it is to be
noted, that Stephen, the young Servian despot, with a contingent of
trained warriors, fought for Bajesid against the crusaders. But with
this exception the Sultan’s army, in all reckoned at 110,000, was
composed of Moslem troops. Out of the 110,000 ranged on the other side,
there were about 20,000 crusaders, of whom 16,000 were French. These,
with the bravado that came from the traditions of western chivalry,
undertook to bear the brunt of the fighting. Sigismund again tried to
secure the adoption of his more cautious plan, but without result. The
constable of France, Count d’Eu, gave the signal to advance, and the
French knights moved to the onslaught with cries of “Vive St. Denis,
Vive St. George.” Sigismund’s army, composed of trusty Transylvanians,
Hungarians, and Tschechs, was in the center, and on the right wing
behind the crusaders, while Mircea’s men made up the left. The Turks
were drawn up in three lines; in the first were irregular troops,
“akindji” and “azabs,” and a body of mercenaries; in the second Asiatic
foot soldiers flanked by two squadrons of “spahis”; behind were
stationed what might be called the guard regiments, the Janitschars and
the spahis of the Porte; a short distance away in individual formation
stood the 5000 Servians under Stephen.

In their reckless dash forward the knights carried everything before
them, the irregulars first, and Janitschars afterwards, though these
were protected by a line of inclined pointed stakes. The horsemen
had no difficulty in leaping over these obstacles, and made fearful
execution with their swords on the Turks in the level plain. But,
while the French were driving through their enemies in front like a
flying wedge, the Turks on the two wings were reforming to make an
inclosing movement around the knights. As these could not withdraw,
they continued the charge right into the second line of Bajesid, where
they put “hors de combat” five thousand Turks. But by this time both
men and horses were exhausted, and the ranks were broken. The more
cautious leaders advised Count d’Eu to fall back on the Hungarians for
support, but he gave orders to renew the charge. The third line of the
enemy could not, however, be broken; the Western crusaders were being
overwhelmed by fresh bodies of Ottomans.

The Frenchmen might have been aided easily by their allies behind them,
but at this moment Mircea, with his Wallachians and the Transylvanian
contingent, suddenly deserted the field. This cowardly action threw
the rest of the army into a panic. Soon Sigismund was left with but a
fraction of his army, the men from the Christian lands in the East lent
no aid, nor did they stand their ground. The Hungarian King advanced
to rescue the Western crusaders, but a charge made by the Servians,
who had as yet kept out of the battle, prevented the union of the now
separated portions of the Christian army. The French, though left
alone, performed great feats of arms, fighting, as the chronicles
say, like mad wolves and frothing boars. Gathering together in small
groups of eight or ten, the knights, using their long swords, fortified
themselves behind the heaps of dead and wounded Turks. It was told
how the standard of the Virgin, defended by John de Vienne and his
companions, was six times struck to the ground, only to be proudly
lifted again until the heroic Frenchman himself fell, still clasping in
his arms the tattered standard. Sigismund also fought desperately, but
there was no escape except by retreating northward to the Danube, where
the galleys of Rhodes and Venice took on board what was left of the
great army of the crusaders.

The splendid equipment of the Western knights furnished Bajesid with
immense spoil; but it was a dear victory. From thirty to forty thousand
of his men lay dead on the field, as a witness to the prowess of French
chivalry. Wherever the French fought, the chronicles record that “for
one Christian of those who lay dead on the field, there were thirty
Turks or more, or other men of that faith.” Maddened by his losses,
the Sultan ordered his prisoners to be killed. The massacre went on
all day; 2000 were executed; only those escaped who were likely to be
ransomed for large sums, and a few prisoners whose age was less than
twenty years. It was the soldiers’ greed rather than the Sultan’s
clemency which brought the butchery to an end.

When the news of the defeat was received at Paris, there was universal
mourning. Then an embassy was sent, with rich presents for the
Sultan, to arrange the ransom of the prisoners. The amount settled
upon was 200,000 florins. The Western ambassadors were treated with
great courtesy and magnificent entertainments were provided for their
amusement. In parting from one of the distinguished captives, John the
Fearless, son of the Duke of Burgundy, Bajesid said, “I do not wish to
require from you the oath not to bear arms against me again; if, when
you return home, you still find yourself in the humor for fighting me,
you will find me always ready to meet you on the field of battle, for
I am born for war and conquest.” As presents for Charles VI of France,
in exchange for those that had been sent him, he despatched by the
French envoys various warlike accouterments, among others a drum and
bowstrings, made of human flesh.

The fancifulness of the Turk was also seen by his sending with
those who made the formal announcement of his victory to the Moslem
princes of Asia and Egypt, the Western prisoners all equipped in their
heavy armor to enable the leaders of his own faith to understand the
significance of his success. As a result of the battle of Nicopolis,
Bosnia, Bulgaria, and Roumania accepted Ottoman rule; at the same time
the adjoining lands of the Hungarian King became the field of Turkish
raids.

Constantinople was in a perilous situation, but an attempt to take it
failed (1398). Less fortunate, as has been seen, were the inhabitants
of continental Greece, who saw Argos taken, and the country of the
Peloponnesus ravaged by Bajesid. The troubles of the imperial city were
not relieved by Bajesid’s failure to capture it, for by the instigation
of the Turks, John, the nephew of Manuel, became a claimant for the
crown, and at the head of 10,000 Ottoman troops marched on the city.
The result was that Manuel agreed to take his nephew as associate in
the Empire, a term which now had only a technical significance, for the
imperial dignity meant little more than the rule over Constantinople
itself. Bajesid refused to allow this arrangement unless further
concessions were made, such as the establishment of a fourth mosque
in the city, and the same local autonomy for the Turkish colony as
that enjoyed by the Venetians and Genoese. Manuel refused and appealed
to Western Christendom. France again showed its sympathy by sending
a survivor of the Nicopolis campaign, a knight, Boucicout, who, with
only 1200 men, forced the entrance of the Dardanelles, and afterwards
won a minor success in Asia, though he failed in his attempt to take
Nicodemia. Manuel tried, as his father had done, a personal visit to
the West, and remained nearly two years in France. Bajesid, in the
meantime, was encircling Constantinople with his fleet and armies, when
the situation suddenly changed, owing to the expansion of a new power
in the Orient.

The emirates of those Seldjouks, who had survived absorption by the
Ottomans, had, at the close of the fourteenth century, formed a
defensive alliance against Bajesid, but they were not successful.
The Sultan seized their best provinces, and, when they resorted to
arms, defeated the Seldjoukian emirs on the battlefield. Gradually
the Ottoman dominions were approaching the Euphrates, by which they
were brought near the frontier of the newly-organized Mongol empire,
the creation of the great conqueror Timur. The growth of bad feeling
between the two rival powers was accentuated, when each sovereign began
to receive with favor the rebellious vassals of the other. Timur sent
to the Sultan a threatening letter, which was answered in the temper
in which it was couched. Timur’s reply was to cross the frontier, and
this step was followed up by the capture of the important town of
Sivas. All the inhabitants were massacred, the Christians in it being
burned alive, and the governor of the place, a son of the Sultan, was
strangled. Timur turned from his invasion of the south to attack Angora
with the purpose of drawing the Turks into a trap. He succeeded, for
he had between two and three hundred thousand men, while Bajesid,
to oppose him, had only 120,000. A great battle took place on July
20, 1402, which ended most disastrously for the Turks, because the
Seldjoukians went over to the enemy. Bajesid was captured, and two of
his sons were killed. Much of the land to the west was overrun by the
Mongols, but a permanent organization of the Mongol Empire was made
impossible because of the death of Timur on February 19, 1405. Bajesid
had also died of a broken heart, after his terrible defeat.




IV MURAD II


This change of fortune meant much for the Greek Empire. Manuel took
courage, deprived the Turks of their privileges at Constantinople, and
making use of the divisions among the successors of Bajesid, succeeded
in regaining a part of the territories that had been lost. For some
years the Ottomans, under Mohammed, were engaged in regaining their
position in Asia; in Europe the tables were reversed. The empire of
the Ottomans seemed to be on the point of going through a process of
disintegration similar to that experienced by their predecessors of the
same race, the Seldjouks. When it was defunct its residuary legatee
might well be the Greek Empire.

There were now many Ottoman princes, no longer one sultan. Souliman,
who reigned at Adrianople, sought the protection of Manuel, gave him as
a hostage one of his sisters, married a niece of the Emperor, restored
part of Macedonia and Ionia, and yielded up Thessalonika, the greatest
prize of all. When he was succeeded by his brother Mousa, there was an
outbreak of hostilities; Thessalonika was again lost by the Greeks, but
soon retaken, while a Turkish fleet was resisted by a fleet now manned
by Greek sailors; for Manuel had taken care to provide for a navy, and
was no longer dependent on the commercial cities of Italy. Mohammed
was summoned by Manuel from Asia as an ally against Mousa, and the two
succeeded in defeating him. On his capture he met death at Mohammed’s
hands.

For the next eight years (1413-1421) Mohammed was sole ruler of the
Osmanlis, but internal difficulties hindered aggressive action on his
part, so far as the Christian powers were concerned. His policy was
decidedly philhellenic, Manuel receiving from his hands important
territories on the Black Sea and the Propontis; but his main attention
was directed to the Asiatic provinces, where, in addition to troubles
with the emir of Karamania, there were disturbances, due to religious
agitations in Islam. One of the chief agitators was a converted Jew,
Torlak-Hin-Kemali, a preacher of the revolutionary doctrines of liberty
and equality, who demanded a division of property. This communistic
teaching stirred up the masses of the people, and excited the active
sympathy of the dervish party.

On the death of Mohammed, his son, Murad II, took up the succession.
He was a prince of energy and ability, who devoted himself for thirty
years to the restoration of the Empire. The Greek Emperor Manuel still
carried on his policy of sowing dissension among the Turks, but with
less success than in the preceding period. Mustafa, an uncle of the new
Sultan, became the ally of the Greeks, and Gallipoli, the first place
taken by the Turks in Europe, was besieged. Murad hastened personally
to save the town from capture. His uncle was taken, beaten, and hanged.
Murad undertook then to lay siege to Constantinople, this making the
fourth time that the city had been threatened by Ottoman armies. (June,
1422.)

The besiegers were a motley host; mixed with the soldiers were
dervishes, marabouts (religious teachers), artisans, and peasants, all
drawn together by the hope of sacking the rich capital.

They showed much improvement in the siege-methods employed, for
they used wooden towers, and tried to get into the city through the
aqueduct. The Greek armies were beaten in front of the walls, but
Manuel and his son, John, soon found a way for causing the withdrawal
of Murad’s army, by inviting over from Asia another son of Mohammed,
to whom his brother had intrusted the government of one of the Asiatic
provinces. He was ceremoniously received in the city, and as soon as it
was known in the Turkish camp that he was on his way to the west, Murad
withdrew to Adrianople.

This siege is signalized in the chronicles by a narrative of the
miraculous appearance of the Virgin on the walls of the city, the very
day a general assault had been ordered. The Ottomans, panic-stricken,
it is said, hastened to retreat. Both Christians and Mohammedans
accepted the authenticity of the apparition, which is not surprising,
since, in the ranks of the Sultan’s army, there were large numbers of
men who had been converted to Islam, but who could not throw aside the
religious habits of mind of medieval Christians.

Peace was made on conditions extremely favorable to the Greeks. There
was still a tribute to be paid, but some territory that had been taken
in the campaign was restored. When Manuel died in 1425 he left six
sons, all of whom were in positions of command. One of them, John VIII,
was his successor as Emperor, the others were ruling parts of the
empire at Thessalonika and farther south.

One of the first acts of the new administration was to endeavor to
placate the Turks by restoring some of the towns on the Black Sea. But
the efforts at pacification were of no avail. The Morea was invaded by
one of the Sultan’s generals, Tourakhan-beg, whose progress was not
effectively contested, except by the Albanian colonies. The inhabitants
of these were, however, mercilessly slaughtered, and on the site of the
razed towns the Turks erected pyramids of the heads of their victims.
In the north, too, there was successful fighting on the part of the
Ottomans, both with the Roumanians and the Bulgarians, and even with
the Hungarians, whose King, Sigismund, was defeated near the walls of
Kolunbitz.

In 1430, Murad took charge of the attack on Thessalonika, now in the
possession of the Venetians, who had taken it from the Greek prince
Andronicus. The activity of Venice at this time is in decided contrast
to the cautious policy displayed by the republic in the previous
century. For one thing, the secular contest with Genoa had been
decided in favor of the Adriatic port. Then, too, the objections of
the Venetians to occupy continental possessions had been overcome by
the exigencies of Italian politics, which had forced Venice to play a
larger rôle in advancing her especial interests than ever before. It
seemed for a time as if the Venetians would become the natural heirs
to the territories of the Eastern Empire in the lands of peninsular
Greece, while to the north Hungary had risen to be the main power,
around which the Roumanian and Slavic races gathered as their natural
protector against the Turk. From now on the establishment of the
Ottoman power in Europe would depend on the overthrow of both the
Venetians and the Hungarians. The former, as has just been intimated,
were slowly and diplomatically acquiring Greek principalities in the
south of continental Greece, but were striving, at the same time, not
to bear the brunt of Turkish hostility. They relied partly on the
strong fleet which had been sent to the East, and partly on the care
they had taken to secure the aid of the Hungarians. On the other hand,
the Turks had been developing their navy, and they ventured, as early
as 1428, to attack merchant vessels belonging to the republic.

The fall of Thessalonika precipitated events and caused the Venetians
to recognize that quick action was necessary. The republic entered into
relations with the King of Cyprus and with the dissatisfied vassal
princes of Karamania, who were ever ready to rebel against the Sultan.
Proposals were made to King Sigismund to inaugurate a new crusade, in
which he would have charge of the land forces, while the Venetians,
keeping the mastery of the sea, would prevent new troops from being
sent over from Asia. Unhappily, Sigismund proved apathetic; there were
disturbances in the Albanian lands owned by Venice, and a war with
Genoa kept the Venetians from having a free hand to deal effectively
with the Sultan. Accordingly, a peace was patched up, by the terms
of which Venice paid a tribute to the Turks for some of her Greek
possessions.

Plundering expeditions were now made by the Turks into Hungarian
territory, but before Sigismund could undertake military operations
on his side his death occurred. (December 9, 1437.) The work of
defense was then undertaken by his successor and son-in-law, Albert.
For the first time the Sultan in person led an army in the region of
the Carpathians and the Danube, and, although a coalition was formed,
consisting of Hungarians, Servians, and Wallachians, the Turkish arms
proved, as so often, irresistible. Semendria was taken, and many
thousands of prisoners were carried away from the ravaged countries.
But Belgrade held out, though Albert died there among his troops on
October 27, 1438.

Strong hands were found ready to take up the work of defense. In the
city, which was amply protected by a threefold wall, and by many pieces
of artillery mounted on the ramparts, there was a garrison of German
mercenaries, while in other regions exposed to the invaders, there were
Hungarian forces under the command of Johann Hunyadi, the son of a
Roumanian peasant of Inidora, whose reputation as a national hero was
soon to be made in the victorious leadership of his people against the
Turk.

Hunyadi’s first aggressive act was an invasion into Bosnia, where he
drove out some marauding bands of the Turkish general Isa-beg. A much
more important military exploit was the battle of Szt-Imre, where, in
1442 (March 18), the Turks were forced back into Wallachia. Attempts
made somewhat later to avenge this humiliation had no final success,
for Hunyadi attacked the invading army on its march, winning a victory
conspicuous because many well-known Ottoman generals lost their lives.

Spurred by the prowess of Hunyadi, the Western powers prepared to
support him in driving the Ottomans from Europe. There was additional
ground for hope in the arrangements, lately made, for a union between
the Eastern and Western churches, a scheme naturally regarded as a
good basis for coöperation against the Moslems. A new crusade was
proclaimed, but nothing was accomplished by it, since the Venetians
feared the loss of their possessions in the East, if the Slavic races
were too actively aided, and since the Pope had no inclination to part
with the tithes collected for the crusade, while he had use for them in
protecting his temporal sovereignty as an Italian prince.

The Hungarians, left for these sinister reasons to deal with the Turks
single-handed, displayed no lack of resolution. Hunyadi, with troops
of Roumanians and Hungarians, passed the Danube late in October,
1443. He soon occupied Nisch and defeated several Ottoman armies, but
the campaign had no decisive result, for Hunyadi feared to penetrate
farther into Turkish territory without additional forces, especially
as Murad was now in personal command. This caution was justified, for,
in withdrawing, the Christian army suffered a reverse. The Hungarians
could congratulate themselves that their advance had given great
encouragement wherever the pressure of the Turkish occupation was felt.
Yet there was no sincere effort on the part of the Christian powers to
work together. The Servians made their own terms with the Sultan, and
the Venetian fleet, ostensibly despatched to eastern waters to act with
the Hungarians, was put under the command of Loredano, who had private
instructions to come to terms with the Turks.

The story of a peace concluded on terms most humiliating for Murad,
by which, among other things, the whole of Bulgaria and Servia was
evacuated, is rightly questioned. All that is known is that Wladislaw,
who was now King of Hungary (1440), solemnly protested that he would
undertake a crusade against the Turks, all treaties and truces to
the contrary notwithstanding. The expedition was begun, Hunyadi
coöperating, and Papal legates testifying, by their presence, that a
true crusade was in progress. But, although the army stood for the
cause of the whole of Christendom, in the ranks there were almost none
but Hungarian soldiers. It crossed the Danube, intending to march
straight to Varna, and from there proceed by sea to Constantinople.
But it was far too small for the work it planned to do; even after it
had been joined by Vlad of Wallachia, it only numbered 15,000 men.
Before Varna could be taken, Murad (at the head of an army of 40,000
men) hastened from Asia to arrest the progress of the crusaders. In the
engagement that followed all efforts to break through the Janitschars,
even when attempted under the experienced leadership of Hunyadi, failed
completely, and the Christians suffered a decisive overthrow. Only a
few of the 15,000 escaped, among them Hunyadi and Vlad. Among the dead
were the King of Hungary and a Papal legate. (October, 1444.)

The news of this disaster took some time to reach the West, and by
the time it was known there, information was also received that the
indefatigable Hunyadi was again girding himself up for a second
expedition. This ended with some small advantages in Wallachia. Again,
in 1448, he tried another mode of entrance into the Sultan’s territory,
passing this time among the Albanians, on whose aid he reckoned without
avail, since they were fighting on their own account against the
Turks. The Servians, too, held aloof. The second battle of Kossovo
(October 17, 1448) ended in a defeat for the Hungarians, although the
Turkish losses were very severe. Under the hammering of Hunyadi, the
Janitschars were obliged to give way, but they withdrew in good order
with unbroken ranks.

There was a truce for three years after this battle, much to the
relief of both sides, since Murad had encountered an aggressive
Albanian leader in Scanderbeg, who seemed likely to rival Hunyadi as
an enemy of Ottoman rule. For some time this Albanian champion, whose
name in Albanian is equivalent to Alexander, had been kept as a page
at the Sultan’s court. During the confusion caused by the campaigns
of Hunyadi, the young man had managed to escape, but before doing
so, he had forced the Sultan’s secretary, under menace of death, to
sign an order directing the commander of Croia to give up the place
to Scanderbeg. On reaching his home in the mountains, the Albanian
chieftain put himself at the head of 600 warriors. Entering Croia alone
he presented his written order to the governor, who immediately turned
over the place to him. In the night he brought his men into the town
and the Turkish garrison was massacred.

Everywhere throughout the land the Albanian people rose to cast out
the Turk from their borders. Scanderbeg soon had 11,000 men under him,
and won back all the possessions belonging to his family. Even the
Venetians, who had tried to seize an Albanian town, were glad to come
to terms with him, and to become his financial agents. He was accepted
as chief of all the forces operating against the Ottomans, and a relief
expedition of 40,000 men, under the command of Ali Pascha, the vizier,
was caught in the fastnesses of the Albanian mountains and slowly
exterminated. (1443.) Another Turkish army fared no better than that
under Ali Pascha, and it lost 10,000 men. When Murad himself undertook
to repress the rebellion, bringing with him the overwhelming force of
100,000 men, he took two cities, but left 20,000 of his men dead in
the narrow defiles of Albania. Two years afterwards Murad began the
siege of Croia, trusting to specially powerful artillery to overwhelm
the enemy. But Scanderbeg, by skilful manœuvers, not only held the
Sultan in check, but actually enveloped his army. Murad, seeing his
danger, offered peace, on condition that Scanderbeg would acknowledge
his sovereignty, and pay tribute to him. This was refused, and Murad
abandoned his efforts to arrest the stubborn guerrilla warfare in which
the Albanian chieftain had proved himself a master.

In the Morea, where the Byzantine princes, the sons of Manuel II, were
gaining ground at the expense of one of the Latin feudal lords, the
Florentine Acciajuoli, who had accepted the Sultan as his overlord,
Murad’s army of 60,000 men achieved decisive successes. The wall
across the Isthmus of Corinth was taken by the Ottoman artillery, and
the Peloponnesus was overrun by the invaders. Corinth was seized and
burnt; but Patras, by its stout resistance, held the Sultan in check
until terms were made, by which the invaders withdrew, on condition of
receiving an annual tribute. (1446.)

But the dynastic disputes of Constantinople weakened the Greek power
of resistance as much as did their failure in warfare. On the death of
John VIII, in 1448, the dispute between his sons as to the succession
was settled by Murad, who decided in favor of Constantine, the valiant
defender of Patras. There was, however, no ceremony of coronation;
therefore, strictly speaking, the last Christian Emperor of the
East appears in the long line of the successors of Constantine the
Great,--his namesake,--with a tinge of irregularity in his record. Soon
after this elevation Murad died, February 8, 1451. His virtues are
celebrated by the western chronicler, Brocquière, in the words, “a
mild person, kind and generous in according lordship and money.”




V MOHAMMED II


Mohammed II was only twenty years old when he took up the reins
of government. He was ambitious, was endowed with great physical
endurance, and, from reading the deeds of Julius Cæsar and Alexander,
as they appeared in the folklore tales translated into Arabic,
had conceived a strong desire to transform the tribal and loosely
organized sovereignty of his people into an enduring political power
with a systematic organization. His primary object was the capture of
Constantinople, and to get a free hand for this undertaking, he adopted
a most pacific policy in the first year of his reign. He renewed
the treaties with Genoa and Venice, with the princes of Servia and
Wallachia, and with Hunyadi, Scanderbeg, and the Knights of Rhodes.

[Illustration: MEDAL OF MOHAMMED II.]

He opened hostilities with the Greeks by building, in an
extraordinarily short space of time, a fortification on the narrow
seas, near the imperial city, which enabled him to collect dues from
all the vessels entering the harbor, and served as a point from which
issued armed expeditions that captured nearly all the Greek territory
outside the city walls. Meanwhile, some slight acts of aggression in
the Morea failed to reveal to the West the real purposes of the new
Sultan. Those who had seen him spoke of him as a mild and learned young
man, not at all the kind of ruler who would walk in footsteps different
from his father’s. The Western Emperor, Frederick III, thought it was
sufficient to write the Sultan a letter, warning him not to attack
Constantinople. Those who were nearer understood his temper better,
knowing that, when Constantine sent a delegation to protest against
the erection of the fortification that had lately been built on the
European shore of the Bosphorus, the Greek emissaries had been beheaded.

In the doomed city itself dissensions reigned supreme. Ecclesiastics
had come from Rome to look over the religious situation in
Constantinople with the purpose of reporting the prospects for carrying
out the terms of union, drawn up lately at the Council of Florence.
Their appearance in the city disgusted the common people, who called
their new Emperor a traitor to the Eastern Church, and an irreligious
usurper, who was, after all, they said, not a real emperor, because he
had not been crowned.

The Venetians were busy looking after their own interests on the
Adriatic coast or in continental Greece. They were busy arranging terms
with the Sultan, as to the export of grain from Asia, and were so
pleased with their commercial success in this bargain that they only
resolved to allow artillerymen to be hired among the subjects of Venice
by Constantine, not to aid him officially.

Outside the city the prospects for successful resistance were quite
as bad. When a delegation came from the East to beg their help, they
were referred by the Signoria to the Holy Father, as the head of the
crusading program. Yet they began to suspect something was wrong when
one of their ships, coming out of the Bosphorus, was fired on by the
Turks, and the crew was taken and massacred. There were a few Venetian
merchants’ galleys in the harbor whose crews, at the Emperor’s request,
took part in the work of defending the fortifications. The Genoese,
fearful of the fate of their colony at Pera, sent an armed force of
1000 men to help defend the city.

While keeping up a constant blockade, Mohammed was preparing his plans.
His success, he saw, depended on siege guns, for he fully appreciated
the tremendous revolution in warfare due to the use of gunpowder.
From the many renegades in his camp he had heard of the remarkable
effects produced by bronze cannon in battles and sieges. His adviser in
preparing his siege guns was Urban, probably a Roumanian renegade, who
showed great skill in perfecting the technique of projectiles at this
early stage of their use. To the inventive faculty of this Christian
fugitive in the Osmanli camp, the taking of the great Christian capital
in the Orient was largely due. The weight of the new guns is shown
by the fact that it took sixty oxen to draw the first one, which was
manufactured by the end of February. Fifty similar ones were ordered to
be constructed.

Troops from Asia and Slavic contingents from Europe kept gathering
round the city during the winter and early spring; there was besides
an Ottoman flotilla of 300 vessels. By the beginning of April, 1453,
the Sultan, with his court, came to the encampment of the besieging
army, and took up a position two miles and a half away from the city
walls. To each portion of the fortifications a certain contingent was
assigned, specific directions to proceed with the attack being given,
according to the character of the ground and the defenses.

In the Sultan’s army there were probably as many men under arms as were
usually taken in the Turkish military expeditions, between forty and
sixty thousand, but the number is not given in the sources. The Emperor
Constantine had not more than 7000 men; besides, as we have seen, the
population were ill disposed to him, because of his concessions to
the Latin Church, and more than once the hostile cry was heard within
the walls, “better under the Turks than under the Latins.” One of
Constantine’s chief officials, Lukas Notoras, had already exchanged his
Christian headgear for a Turkish turban.

The Latin element in the town took the chief part in the defense; not
only were one-third of the soldiers from the West, but the galleys in
the harbor, the weapons used, the stores for the siege, all were from
the Occident. Only one of the towers on the city walls was in charge
of a Greek, and the keys of the four chief city gates were kept by the
Venetians. Catalans and Genoese were also given responsible positions;
even in the personal entourage of the Emperor, only a few Greek names
are noted.

When the siege opened, the character of Mohammed’s strategy was soon
plain. He had no intention of making a general assault of the ordinary
type; instead, his cannon were directed against weak spots in the wall,
and the work of destruction began. An unsuccessful attempt, however,
was made to surprise the garrison on the 17th of April, and the Sultan
was greatly disappointed when his fleet came out worsted from a fight
with the imperial ships, which issued from the harbor to protect the
entrance of three or four Genoese vessels that were bringing in stores.

While the walls on the land side were being bombarded, the part of the
city touching the sea was threatened. Urban, imitating the Venetians,
who had transported war galleys across the land to Lake Garda, brought
some of the Turkish ships from Galata-Pera to the Golden Horn. All
attempts to destroy this hostile flotilla failed; by its presence it
divided the Christian forces, and kept the small army of Constantine
from concentrating in any strength at a threatened point. When May
came, the besieged population began to suffer from scarcity of food.
The only hope of relief was to be looked for from Venice; for the other
powers in the West had received Constantine’s appeals with only verbal
promises, or with indifference. Yet even the Venetians proceeded with
great deliberation. The twelve galleys that had been ordered to be
sent to help Constantinople in February were only ready by May 7th,
and the Admiral, Loredano, was given instructions to handle the Turks
unaggressively. He was told not to engage in a battle with them unless
forced to do so.

Slowly the various details of the siege operations were perfected by
the Turks; parts of the moats before the walls were filled up; a bridge
was built from Pera to Constantinople, that gave an admirable basis for
cannonading the city at close quarters. On the 28th the inhabitants
noted such great activity in the Ottoman camp that it was evident the
final attack was close at hand. Mohammed rode from point to point
giving final directions, and word was proclaimed by heralds that every
member of the besieging army should be prepared. The movement in the
Turkish camp began three hours before daybreak. The Christian allies
and the rank and file of the Moslem soldiers were directed to place
ladders at a point in the wall near the Romanos gate that had already
especially suffered from artillery fire. The loss of life among the
assailants, at this point, was very great, but as the élite of the army
did not suffer, the Ottoman leaders were indifferent as to the cost of
getting the ladders near the walls and defenses.

The next step was to bring up the Janitschars, who, under the personal
direction of the Sultan and the two chief generals of his army,
commenced operations near the Romanos and two other gates. Compact
in their firm discipline, and protected by artillery fire, with the
smoke of their guns concealing from the defenders their rapid motion,
they pressed ahead. On the Greek side the Emperor kept out of the
tumultuous fighting, leaving the work of active defense to the Italian
Giustiniano, who made a heroic resistance in the interior defenses
of the city, until, struck in the breast by a bullet, he was carried
away to a ship mortally wounded. After this fatality general confusion
followed; there was no one to take the commander’s place. No words of
command were now heard; the Turks, who had been held back from the
high walls, filled up the space between the outer lines of temporary
palisades and the permanent fortifications that were being dismantled
by the cannonading.

At the place where Giustiniano had been shot some ladders were set up,
and at the same time a small gate, used by the Genoese soldiers to
pass out of the city to protect the outer ring of the defensive works,
was occupied. By this way a considerable number of the Janitschars
penetrated into the interior of the city. But their entrance was not
noticed by the defenders on the walls, who, in the conflict, had no
time to leave their posts. The sailors of the fleet now landed, ready
to take their part of the spoil. The squadrons of Janitschars rode
without resistance through the narrow streets flanked with wooden
houses, searching for the first of the booty. Every corner was searched
for wealthy citizens, who would be likely to pay large ransoms, and for
valuable slaves. Adult men, actually with weapons in their hands, were
killed, and, of course, no Franks were spared, nor any of the imperial
troops. Small children, too, old men, and invalids, who came in the
way of the Ottoman soldiers, were mercilessly slaughtered; they had no
marketable value. Whole groups of citizens were dragged off, and then
a systematic plundering of churches and private houses began; carpets,
stuffs, precious stones and metals, books, whose binding attracted
notice, all were carried off. (May 29, 1453.)

In the sacking of the city the Emperor Constantine perished. When he
saw destruction going on all about him, he is said to have asked, “Is
there no Christian here to cut my head off?” His fate must have come
later, for his body was found on a heap of corpses near the gate that
had first been entered. His head was set the same day on a column of
the Augusteion, a sign to the Greeks that they had no other emperor now
but the Sultan. Then it was placed in a precious casket and despatched
from one Moslem ruler to another as the convincing proof of the prowess
of their Moslem overlord.

Three days had been allowed for the sack; after this period the troops
returned to their camp. Some of the streets were then cleaned, and the
Sultan made his solemn entry into the deserted city to the Church of
St. Sophia, which he transformed into a mosque. The Podestà and a few
of the Italians from Pera, who had not actually been under arms, were
protected by a guarantee from the Sultan’s own hand. But the walls of
the suburb were destroyed, all weapons had to be given up, and a slave
succeeded the Genoese Podestà as the supreme authority in the colony.

Most of the fleet, taking advantage of the confusion during the capture
of the city, succeeded in getting away, taking with them some fugitives
who escaped by disguising themselves in a Turkish garb. The head of
the Venetian colony and the Catalan Consul were beheaded as disturbers
of the peace, and even Lukas Notoras, the chief Greek noble, did not
escape, although he had led the opposition against Constantine. The
Greek clergy, on the other hand, were treated with great clemency;
they had been trained by centuries into habits of servile obedience
to secular rulers, and, therefore, they could be turned into useful
instruments for ruling the subject Christian population.

With shrewd understanding of the religious situation, Mohammed now
appointed as Patriarch in place of the Latin ecclesiastic, who had
escaped from the city, the leader of the clerical opposition, Gennadios
Scholarios. The new Patriarch dined with the new Emperor, and received
rich presents and most courteous attention, befitting his exalted
dignity as a churchman. In place of Santa Sophia, he was given as
his metropolitan church the building known as the Church of the Holy
Apostles. As a new Patriarch, created by favor of the Moslem Emperor,
he kept his rights of jurisdiction over the Emperor’s Christian
subjects.

A Moslem governor was placed in the city to order the administration,
with instructions to induce those who had fled from the town to return,
and to arrange for the colonization of the Moslem newcomers. Only a
small garrison was left; and the Sultan took his road to Adrianople
on 18th of June. While the Moslem ruler and his successors spared
the population, and left to their Greek subjects a kind of spiritual
empire, the conquest of Constantinople proved fatal to the many
treasures of ancient art that had survived the Latin conquest of the
city in 1204. The bronze statues of the Emperors were made into cannon,
the bronze inscriptions on arches and obelisks were coined into money,
and the marble statues of pagan divinities were turned into lime.
Valuable antique columns were sawn to make baths, or were transformed
into cannon balls.

The Basilica, in which the bodies of the Emperors were buried,
became a mosque; the bones were scattered and the sarcophagi turned
to the basest uses. Forty-two other churches became mosques, or were
secularized; one, St. Irenæus, was employed as an arsenal. Some of the
splendid mosaics in Santa Sophia were hidden by whitewash, because of
their Christian symbolism; near the structure was built a minaret, and
Mohammed’s successors added three more. As time went on, new mosques
were constructed; also hospitals, schools, and palaces, the Sultan
being a great builder. The new population was cosmopolitan, for many
Greek, Servian, and Roumanian towns were drawn upon for their several
contingents, as the Turkish conquests continued.

At the time of his great achievement, Mohammed was only twenty-five
years old. He publicly announced that he had reached maturity by
decapitating the Grand Vizier Khalil, the tutor set over him by his
father, who was suspected of treasonable communications with the Greeks
during the siege. He made it plain, also, that there was to be no
repose from war after the taking of the capital, the Servians being
the first to experience his heavy hand. Brankovitch’s fidelity as a
vassal proved no protection to him; for Mohammed wrote claiming his
kingdom. In terror the Servian prince fled to Hungary to secure the aid
of Hunyadi. The war that followed was hotly contested, with the result
that in 1454 the Sultan agreed, on the basis of the large tribute of
30,000 ducats, to recognize Brankovitch.

But this peace was not observed, for the conqueror appeared the next
year and took Novoberda. Hunyadi, against whom bitter foes were working
at the court of the King of Hungary, had only the support of the
Wallachian princely house. When Belgrade was attacked by Mohammed,
in May, 1456, only 3000 Christian soldiers were ready to oppose him.
When the siege really began, however, 200 boats appeared before the
city, containing many thousand men of various nationalities, whom the
Franciscan monk, John of Capistrano, had drawn to the crusading cause
by his protracted and widely extended journeys in Western Europe.
Though over seventy years old, he had displayed remarkable energy, and
he was honored by the defenders of Belgrade as a holy apostle.

On July 15 the two welcome allies took possession of the castle, as
the city had not yet been cut off from the outside. The first stage
of the defense was the defeat of the Turkish flotilla on the Danube;
some vessels were sunk and others were captured, so that entrance into
the town by water was made safe. In the attempt to storm the defenses
made by the Janitschars, who advanced in small divisions, hardly 600
survived; three times Hunyadi, sallying from the castles, forced back
the assailants. Capistrano’s crusaders proved too much for the Sultan’s
trained troops; marching right up to the guns and careless of the
havoc caused by the cannon fire, those who took part in the sortie cut
down the Turks and threw the cannon into the water and ditches. If the
crusaders had not stopped on the way to plunder, they would have broken
through the Sultan’s own bodyguard. As it was the Ottomans were able
to withdraw safely from their camp; but they lost some of their best
captains, among them Aga, who was killed while protecting the Sultan,
who escaped with an arrow wound.

No serious attempt was made to follow up this victory, though Hunyadi
boasted that it was now possible “to take possession of the whole
kingdom of Turkey.” Anarchy prevailed in the motley crowd gathered
in the crusading camps along the river; worse still, owing to the
unhealthful surroundings in the low lands, a plague began, to which the
great Hungarian champion soon fell a victim; not long after Capistrano
also died.

Soon after the death of Hunyadi the long career of the Servian Prince
Brankovitch came to an end, and with it closed the history of Servia
as a vassal state, for his death was followed by long and bloody
quarrels over the succession. Finally, the claim of Brankovitch’s
daughter-in-law, Helena, the widow of his son Lazaras, was
acknowledged. Her accession gave Mohammed an excuse for appearing as
the champion of an Ottoman pretender. The Sultan’s influence over the
Servian nobility was increased by the fact that Helena was favorable
to the Latin Church; she placed Servia under the protection of the
Pope, and married her daughter to the heir of the Bosnian kingdom.
But this foreign help availed nothing. Many of the strong places in
Servia were captured, including the city of Semandria (1459). The
Servian “woiwodes,” who preferred the domination of the Sultan to the
acceptance of the religion of Rome, showed themselves disloyal to
Helena the younger, who was obliged to withdraw, to Hungary first, and
then to Rome, where she died as a nun in 1474.

After the destruction of Servia, and its absorption by the Ottomans,
came the turn of Bosnia, like Servia disturbed by disputes between
vassal princes, which were taken advantage of by Mohammed. King
Stephen’s pro-Roman policy made him unpopular among his nobles;
therefore, when the Turk’s army appeared, there was no great difficulty
in overrunning the country. The King retired in a panic from his
strongly fortified capital, and while in flight was captured and
afterwards executed (1464). Herzegovina, which still remained in
Christian hands, could not resist the successful aggression of the
Turks, and its occupation took place three years after the annexation
of Bosnia. As Bosnia was a vassal state of Hungary, its King, Matthias,
found himself obliged to look to the safety of his territories.
Scanderbeg, who was alarmed at the taking of Herzegovina, and Venice,
as the mistress of all the cities in the Morea, had just begun to
realize the need of common action to protect their interests.

On the part of the Hungarians war was waged on a small scale, but
the Venetians employed a celebrated condottiere, Bertoldo d’Este,
to head an expedition of thirty-two galleys and other ships armed
by many thousand warriors. After some initial successes, the aim of
the expedition failed, because of the death of Bertoldo while he was
besieging the Turkish garrison at Corinth. Hitherto the steady advance
of the Turks towards the south had been furthered by the anarchy
and divisions of the rival races, among which the Albanians and the
Greeks showed the most vitality. In Athens the ducal Florentine line
brought notoriety to its closing days by the romantic record of its
last duchess, the wife of Nerio II, who, when left a widow with the
guardianship of her young son, fell in love with Contarini, a Venetian
officer in Naples. She promised to marry him if he would get rid of his
wife. The condition was accepted, and the young officer, by marrying
the duchess, became master of Athens. Those who had acknowledged the
old duke as their overlord, resented the introduction of Venetian rule,
and appealed to Mohammed to interfere. He bestowed the duchy on a
member of the reigning Florentine house, Franco, who caused his aunt,
the scandal-making duchess, to be imprisoned and afterwards murdered.
The commission of this crime produced discontent, and the Sultan gave
orders to one of his captains to take possession of Athens.

Mohammed himself took personal charge of the expedition of 1458,
which was conducted with great cruelty. The Albanians were especially
singled out for savage reprisals. When Tarsos fell, the Albanian
soldiers taken captive were horribly tortured, and at the capitulation
of Corinth the leader of the Albanian contingent was sawn asunder. A
short respite was at first granted to the Greek princes, members of
the house of Paleologi, who were closely allied with the last Emperor
of Constantinople, but they were finally dispossessed, and by the year
1460 nothing of Greece was left in the hands of the Christian powers
except four Venetian strongholds. But these were not to be spared
longer.

In 1463 the Morea was ravaged by the Turkish army, and five hundred
Venetian soldiers met death by being sawn apart. In 1467 the
island of Eubœa was attacked by both Ottoman fleet and land forces
simultaneously. Great preparation was made for the defense of the
Venetian citadel, but the plans were spoiled by the incapacity of the
commander of the Venetian fleet to defend the approach to the island
from the sea. The besieged garrison showed great heroism, and even
when they discovered that their leaders were preparing to betray them,
they stoutly held out and inflicted severe losses on the Ottomans. For
reasons which are inexplicable, the Venetian fleet made no attempt to
break down the bridge which connected the island with the continent;
the occupation of this passageway finally enabled the Janitschars to
enter the city. Its heroic defender, Paolo Erizzo, met the fate of
being sawn asunder, because, as a chronicle states, the Turks had
promised to save his head but not his thighs.

This heavy blow to Venice stirred the republic to a series of energetic
reprisals. With her allies, the Neapolitans and the Knights of Rhodes,
and aided by the Pope, she carried the war into Asia Minor. The town of
Smyrna was occupied by the Venetian fleet, and the Seldjouk emirates,
always ready to rebel against the Ottomans, were encouraged to revolt.
When Lepanto was successfully protected by the Venetian fleet, it was
felt that Mohammed had at last encountered a power that was ready
to contest the imperial ambitions of Ottoman rule. But that there
was no sufficient ground for over-confidence appeared when a Turkish
general, Omar-beg, invaded Friuli, and began to ravage territories
in the immediate neighborhood of Venice. A Venetian general fell
fighting the Turks on the banks of the Isonzo, and the citizens of the
republic could see with their own eyes the work of the Turks, as they
burnt the villages that lie between the Isonzo and the Taghliamento.
Scutari, however, withstood two Turkish sieges, though Mohammed himself
took part in the operations. Finally, in 1479, Venice, deserted by
her allies, was willing to arrange terms of peace. These involved
the cession of Lemnos and certain possessions in Albania; but more
significant of her humiliation was the payment of a war indemnity of
100,000 ducats, and the agreement to give an annual tribute of 110,000,
in return for which sacrifices certain commercial advantages were
conceded by the Turks.

Interpreting the treaty in its strictest sense, Mohammed, after
arranging a peace with Venice, occupied the Ionian Islands, and soon
afterwards showed his contempt for the military powers of Western
Europe by sending a fleet of 150 ships to Otranto in Apulia, a province
of the kingdom of Naples. The town, entirely unprepared for such a
raid, was taken in 1480; the garrison and the archbishop were put to
death, and the neighboring country was organized as a Turkish province
with its capital at Otranto, where a garrison of 5000 Turkish soldiers
was left behind.

The alarm created by this feat of arms was instantaneous. The Italian
cities united and soon expelled the Turks from the peninsula, rivaling
their enemies in Asiatic deeds of cruelty. Mohammed could not prosecute
the conquest of Italy, because his attention was necessarily divided
by the troubled state of Turkish rule in Asia, where the Seldjouk
principalities still claimed an autonomy which, on crucial matters,
made them independent of the Sultan.

In the north of Anatolia, which was directly in the hands of the
Ottomans, there still remained the Empire of Trebizond, governed by
a Greek prince, David Comnenus. Part of his dominions, Sinope and
Paphlagonia, were conquered in 1461, and then the last Emperor of
Trebizond turned for help to his Turkoman ally, Hassan, ruler of
Armenia and part of Persia. Mohammed struck at his foes rapidly.
Marching on Erzeroum, he forced Hassan to sue for peace, and so the
Greek Emperor was left to meet the Turks unaided. The city of Trebizond
was effectively encircled by land and sea, and David was soon brought
to surrender, and afterwards, with many members of his household,
was put to death. Equally implacable was Mohammed to the Seldjoukian
emirates. At the death of Ibrahim, the Prince of Karamania, the Sultan
intervened, while seven claimants were disputing over the succession,
and after several campaigns annexed the emirate. Hassan’s time soon
came. Feeling the insecurity of his rule, he asked help of Rhodes and
Venice, especially requesting to be furnished with artillery, by the
aid of which so many of the Ottoman victories were won. Two hundred
Italian gunners were sent in answer to his call. In 1472 he took the
Ottoman town of Tokat, and sacked it. This act caused Mohammed to take
up the war against him in person. The two armies met on July 26, 1473,
at Outlouk-Bali, near Terdjan, where a decisive victory was won by the
Sultan. All the prisoners taken were massacred. The Turkomans had no
desire to contest further the predominance of Ottoman rule, which was
now extended without question over both Karamania and Anatolia.

It must not be supposed, however, that Mohammed was always successful.
Albania held out against him under the heroic leader Scanderbeg, whose
earlier exploits have been already chronicled. His success against
the Ottomans continued without a break. Even when a nephew proved
disloyal and brought an army of 40,000 Turks into the land, he rose up
and smote the invaders after the manner of his earlier years (1461).
For a time afterward peace prevailed; then, during the Venetian war,
he stood as an ally of the republic. His old antagonist Mohammed had
another opportunity of testing the valor of the Albanian chieftain at a
decisive defeat of the Turkish army under the walls of Croia in 1465.
Two years later Scanderbeg died at the age of sixty-seven, and his
death was followed by civil strife.

The rounding off of the Ottoman Empire, a process by which the vassal
states were absorbed, put an end to the internal movements against
centralized rule, and enabled the Sultan to work out his policy of
systematic aggression in the regions to the north. After the year 1470
Turkish armies ravaged Southern Hungary, Croatia, Carinthia, Styria,
and Carniola; Belgrade, on account of its strong defensive position,
was respected. In 1479 the Turks made an expedition in force into
Transylvania, where, in the neighborhood of Hermannstadt, they burnt
200 villages. When they were on the point of withdrawing with their
booty they were attacked on the Cornfields (Kenyermezo, October
13), and suffered severe losses. Not more successful were the acts
of aggression on Hungarian territory in the following year; but the
Hungarian King, Matthias, was satisfied with repulsing his enemies; he
had no desire to prosecute the war against the Turks on a large scale,
for he had none of the ambition or enthusiasm of his famous father,
Hunyadi.

In the Greek islands the activity of the Turkish fleet produced
positive and permanent results; Lesbos was taken in 1462, and to the
list of Turkish successes in these years were soon added Lemnos,
Imbros, Samothrace. Much more valiant defenders of their island were
the Knights of Rhodes, whom the Sultan was especially desirous of
punishing for the part they had taken in the already mentioned Venetian
expedition against Asia Minor. In 1480 a large Ottoman fleet of about
one hundred ships appeared in sight of the island, and a bombardment
was begun, but the fortifications proved too strong for the Turkish
guns to make any impression, though the siege lasted from early in May
till the end of August, in which time, despite the assaults made on the
citadel, only one tower was taken. The Grand Master, Pierre d’Aubusson,
and his brother, had prepared most intelligently for the crisis by
collecting from all provinces of the Order money, which they used in
providing weapons, especially cannon. They had been furnished also by
the Pope, just before the siege began, with a large store of food and
provisions. Finally, after a heroic defense of eighty-nine days, two
Neapolitan ships forced their way into the harbor and broke up the
blockade.

In the Wallachian lands the Ottomans met a redoubtable warrior, who,
in the annals of the Roumanian people, takes such a high place as a
champion against the Turks that the record of his deeds gives him a
rank alongside Hunyadi and Scanderbeg. Vlad, the Prince of Wallachia,
1456-1462, called by the Hungarians the Devil, and with equal
significance spoken of by the Turks as the Impaler, had a reputation
for violence even among his own people. He repressed the internal
troubles of his vassals with an iron hand; for after Mircea’s death
the country had gone through the same period of divisions and intrigues
that is found with such frequency in all the Balkan lands, making them,
as we have seen, an easy prey for the Ottoman.

It is told how Vlad brought Wallachia to a peaceful state by the
execution of 20,000 men, and how, afterwards, in the same drastic
style, he resolved to put an end to the annual tribute of 500 children
demanded by his overlord the Sultan. Looking for allies in carrying on
the resistance to Mohammed, he helped Stephen IV to secure the throne
of Moldavia, and married a relative of Matthias, King of Hungary.
Mohammed resolved to nip in the bud the independent movements of his
dangerous vassal, and sent a renegade Greek official, Catabolinus,
with a corps of 2000 Turks to depose Vlad and to replace him by his
brother, Radu. Vlad, having surprised this small force, impaled all the
prisoners he took; to the pasha who led them was accorded the honor
of being impaled on the longest stake. After this outrage the Sultan
sent three ambassadors to reinforce his demands; but, when the Moslem
delegates refused to remove their turbans in his presence, Vlad ordered
their headgear to be nailed to their heads.

This picturesque barbarity appealed to the imagination of the Turkish
ruler, who, as an artist in cruelty, conceded that Vlad belonged to a
class above him. When the Turkish sovereign made a punitive expedition
to Bucharest, he found the approach to the town, half a mile long,
lined with stakes, on which were rotting the bodies of 2000 dead Turks.
“How,” Mohammed said, “can we despoil of his estates a man who is not
afraid to defend it by such means as these?” Vlad hung on the invading
army, always inflicting losses, without showing himself long enough
to be attacked in a formal battle. Using his familiarity with the
Turkish language, he penetrated with some companions into the midst
of the Turkish camp, and would have succeeded in murdering Mohammed
himself, had not a mistake been made in selecting the tent. Instead of
the Sultan one of the pashas was killed. Though there are conflicting
accounts as to the details of Vlad’s versatility in defense, we know
that Mohammed gave up his plan of aggression against Wallachia and
returned to his capital, Adrianople.

Vlad’s career was cut short by the enmity of his neighbor the Moldavian
King, Stephen, who, afraid of his influence, drove him from his throne,
although he had relied on Vlad to promote his own interests when the
Moldavian succession was in dispute. This was, of course, a gross
error in statesmanship, for the only possibility of resisting Turkish
aggression in these extreme Eastern lands of Europe depended on the
close coöperation of Moldavia and Wallachia. If Wallachia were once
occupied by the Turks, Moldavia’s invasion was certain to be the next
step. After Vlad’s expulsion, he took refuge at the court of Matthias
of Hungary.

His successor, Radu, was entirely devoted to Turkish interests; and
soon after this change of rule in Wallachia, Stephen of Moldavia
was able to seize the seaport town of Kilia, whose inhabitants were
not unwilling to accept an overlord of better reputation than Radu,
whose close relations with the Sultan had made him an object of
contempt (1465). In the hostilities that followed between Matthias of
Hungary and Stephen of Moldavia, the Hungarian King, who had taken up
Vlad’s cause, was beaten at the battle of Baia. Stephen then invaded
Transylvania, captured Peter Aron, the pretender to the throne of
Moldavia, and put him to death. Peace was restored with the Hungarians
on terms that were advantageous to Stephen, who received two fortresses.

Not long after this Hungarian incident, which, like so many others,
weakened the power of resistance to Turkish arms, Stephen invaded
Wallachia with the intention of dethroning the Sultan’s favorite, Radu.
The Moldavian prince prepared for war against the Turks by entering
into negotiations with the Venetians, who, as we have seen, were
indefatigable in organizing a general league against Mohammed. An
ambassador, who had been sent by the republic to secure the coöperation
of the Persian King, Louzoun Hassan, visited Stephen, and proposed him
as leader in organizing a holy league against the Ottomans, “in order,”
as he said, “that we may not be left alone to keep up the struggle
against them.” But before the Venetian envoy had passed beyond the
Balkan lands, Mohammed’s army, in great force, was already swarming
over Moldavia. To meet them Stephen had only some 50,000 men, mostly
of his own nation. With these and a few Hungarians he won a brilliant
victory over 120,000 Turks at Rakova in 1475, where he killed 20,000
men, took 100 standards, and many prisoners, including four pashas.
Pursuing the defeated army, he massacred a large part of them. A church
was built to celebrate the battle, and a solemn fast was initiated,
followed by the impaling of many Turkish prisoners. This success of
Stephen was celebrated as a unique feat of arms in Western Europe, and
deservedly so, for the trained troops of Mohammed had been hewn down by
a peasantry armed only with pikes, scythes, and axes.

Stephen asked help from the Pope and from Venice to carry on the
struggle; but he got no aid, for the Venetians were worn out with the
long war against their Eastern foes, and the Pope explained that all
money for defense had been turned over to Matthias of Hungary, the
overlord of the Moldavian King. Matthias, however, proposed to spend
the money at home, as he dreaded the inevitable increase of Stephen’s
power if he were to inflict another decisive defeat on a Turkish army.
When the Turks appeared again, the help of the peasant population could
not be secured because they were simultaneously alarmed at the news of
a Tartar invasion, said to have been timed to coincide with the passage
of the Danube by the Turks.

The Moldavian nobles, however, and their men-at-arms, made an heroic
stand against Mohammed’s army; their cannon did such execution that
the Janitschars threw themselves on the ground to escape the rain of
projectiles. The Sultan was forced to lead his men in person to save
the day. So stout was the stand the Christians made that the combat
lasted far into the night. When most of his nobles had been slaughtered
Stephen withdrew from this battle, which was fought at Razboieni, July
24, 1476. After he had been pursued to the forest country in the north
of Moldavia, he was finally forced to withdraw to the inaccessible
mountain regions. Here, with characteristic enterprise, he gathered
together a second army, and the Turks, who already were exhausted by
the strenuous campaign in a country ill provided with food, and ravaged
as they were by disease, were easily driven back across the Danube.
After this success Wallachia was invaded the same year by the Moldavian
Boyars, who were joined by the Transylvanians under their new leader,
Bathory. The pro-Turkish prince of the country was dethroned, and
Vlad, the mighty hammerer of the Turks, now again an ally of Stephen,
was replaced by the latter on the throne; but the veteran leader did
not long survive his restoration. He died in December, 1477, near
Bucharest, in a fight with the Turks, who attacked him as soon as
Stephen had withdrawn to Moldavia. He was buried in a monastery founded
by him at Snagov, but no inscription marked the resting place of the
Christian champion.

Mohammed’s own reign was closed on the 3d of May, 1481, in Anatolia.
For some time, owing to his excessive weight, campaigning had been
difficult and painful for him. In the latter years of his life he was
often so incapacitated by gout that he was compelled to give up more
than one important warlike expedition, and it was to this disease that
his death was due. During his reign the Turkish Empire acquired much
new territory; Anatolia was occupied as far as the northern reaches of
the Euphrates, and in Europe the Balkan peninsula was made subject to
his arms as far as the Danube. Many successful expeditions were also
made far beyond these limits, both on the east and on the west. But
two great obstacles to Turkish advance he failed to overcome: Rhodes
and Belgrade, the latter stronghold commanding the Danube, while the
former was the key to the Ægean.




VI SELIM AND SOULIMAN


In the line of succession were two sons, Bajesid and Djem. Bajesid
managed, by rapid marching, to reach Scutari before his brother, and
was proclaimed Sultan. Djem, who had occupied Broussa, proposed a
division of the empire, but Bajesid refused, and defeated Djem in a
decisive battle, fought at Yeni-Chchir (1481). The defeated brother
took refuge first in Egypt, with the Sultan of the Mamelouks, and
afterwards appeared as a suppliant at Rhodes, where the Grand Master,
fearing to keep so valuable a hostage, sent him to France, where he
remained for several years in captivity. Djem finally ended his life as
a victim of the Borgia Pope, Alexander VI, who is charged with having
murdered him to secure the favor of Bajesid. So long as Djem lived,
Bajesid was wary of stirring up the enmity of Occidental Christendom;
he feared the effect on the stability of his throne by the return of a
pretender, backed up by Christian armies. He even refused to answer the
appeal for aid sent him by the last King of Granada, only venturing to
show ineffective sympathy by sending a fleet to cruise off the Spanish
coast.

Charles VIII of France, encouraged by his successful expedition into
Italy, planned a new general crusade against the Turk, and secured
promises of coöperation from various Western powers. He kept in touch
with the Christian population of the Ottoman Empire, and even looked
forward to taking the imperial throne of Constantinople by purchasing
title deeds to it from the Paleologi family.

After Djem’s death, which was soon followed by that of Charles, the
Sultan had a free hand. From 1492 to 1495 he warred with partial
success against the Hungarians; then came the turn of Venice, whose
Italian dominions again saw a Turkish army. In the Morea, also, the
republic lost some of the few cities it still possessed. There Nauplia
held out, but Modon, Navarino, and Coron passed into the possession of
the Turks. Under Papal leadership, an anti-Ottoman league was formed,
and the Christian fleet proved its prowess by destroying two Turkish
flotillas and by ravaging the shores of Asia Minor.

Internal troubles in Asia Minor, defeats in Hungary, and a long,
troublesome war with the Sultan of Egypt brought the warlike
enterprises of Bajesid to an end. The Sultan’s sons through their
dissensions darkened the close of his reign; all three rebelled. Of
the three, the most successful in opposing his father’s power was
Selim, who won the Janitschars over to his side, and through their
interference was able to enter Constantinople in triumph, and there
enforce his own conditions. Bajesid first offered large sums if Selim
would withdraw to the Asiatic province, of which he was governor;
finally he consented to accept him as heir and co-regent on the throne;
but Selim had secured the influence of the troops, and they demanded
the Sultan’s immediate abdication. Bajesid was obliged to accede to
their request, and only asked that he might be allowed to withdraw to
die at Demotica, the place where he was born. The third day after his
abdication he died. Because of its suddenness, his death, as was so
often the case in those days, was said to be due to poison.

Selim’s path after his accession was anything but smooth; the troops
were not amenable to discipline, and there were a host of brothers and
nephews, who were in no mood to accept him as their lord. Besides his
own son, Souliman, there were ten princes who stood near the throne.
All were taken and murdered. Though Selim affected to explain their
executions as due to reasons of state, his acts were severely judged
by his contemporaries. The Turks called him “The Inflexible,” while
in the West he was entitled “The Savage.” Foscolo, the Venetian,
described him as the cruelest of men, “a man who dreams only of
conquests and wars.” He was a well-educated man who favored the pursuit
of literature, and it was said that the only individual who was ever
able to induce him to revoke a death sentence was the grand mufti,
Ali Djemali. His viziers felt the implacable nature of their master;
seven of them were executed, for whenever the soldiers were restless
the vizier was made a victim of the Sultan’s discontent. According to
an old report one of them only agreed to accept the dangerous office
after Selim had beaten him with his own hands. Intractable at home,
Selim, so far as Europe was concerned, proved a pacific prince, his
name being recorded only in connection with one expedition against the
Christians. His Christian vassals, too, were left undisturbed; all
that he exacted from them was the payment of a regular tribute. To the
Moslem dissenters in Persia of the Shiite sect, he showed himself an
implacable persecutor, all the more because his animosity was excited
by the encouragement given to his rebellious brother Ahmed and his
three sons by Ismail, the master of Persia. Ismail also negotiated
an alliance with the Sultan of Egypt against the Osmanlis. Selim
began in his own provinces by organizing a systematic massacre of the
schismatics. Then followed a holy war against the Shah, in 1513, in
which Selim led an army of 140,000 warriors; and after three campaigns,
in one of which a great pitched battle was fought at Tchaldiran
(August 24, 1514), he extended the domains of the Ottoman far to the
east, bringing to submission Georgia and Kurdistan, and overrunning
Mesopotamia and the parts of Syria that were controlled by the Moslem
lord of Egypt.

By the expansion of his empire in this direction he soon came into
conflict with the Sultan of the Mamelouks. Aleppo was taken, and,
when Selim entered the city, he was hailed in the great mosque as the
guardian of the two holy cities of Mecca and Medina, a title which
gave the Ottoman Sultan almost the rank of the Khalif of the faithful.
Damascus also fell into his hands, and so rapid were the successes of
the Ottomans, that early in the year 1517 Selim found himself within
sight of Cairo. The Mamelouks made an heroic resistance; protected
by their coats of mail they charged into the center of the Turkish
position, killing the vizier and ten generals. But here, as so often,
the superiority of the Turks in artillery decided the day, and Cairo
was taken after a prolonged and desperate struggle. Selim proclaimed
an amnesty in favor of the Mamelouks; 500 of them, trusting in the
conqueror’s promises, surrendered and were decapitated, and 50,000 of
the citizens of Cairo were massacred. Touman, who led the Egyptian
forces, was finally taken and hanged.

Egypt was allowed to retain its ancient organization, with its
irregular force, the Mamelouks, and its twenty-four Begs as military
commanderies; but the direction of the government was placed in the
hands of the Ottoman Pasha. With the possession of Egypt Selim became
lord of Yemen, its dependency, and so exercised actual control over
the holy places of the Moslem faith. At Cairo he had found a sheik,
an obscure and neglected personage, called Elmo-stansir-bi-illah, who
was reputed to be in the direct line of descent from the second branch
of the Abbasides Khalifs. Selim kept him in confinement until, on the
promise of securing his liberty, and for a small money payment and a
pension, he agreed to transfer to the Turkish ruler all his claims to
the Khalifate.

Selim’s victories made a great impression. Venice, whose commercial
interests were affected, sent ambassadors to Cairo to arrange for
paying the tribute that was due to the Sultan of Egypt for the island
of Cyprus. Hungary asked to have the truce prolonged between the two
powers, and the Shah of Persia sent gifts and congratulations. Selim
died on September 22, 1520, while he was preparing for an expedition
against the island of Rhodes. He was succeeded by his only son,
Souliman, a ruler whose long reign, from 1520 to 1566, makes him a
contemporary of the great European leaders of the sixteenth century,
a fact which Paul Veronese recognized when he placed him in his
celebrated painting, “The Marriage at Cana,” along with the chief
sovereigns of the day.

As the lines of expansion in the East and in Africa had been closed by
the remarkable achievements of Selim, Souliman’s hands were free to
take up the traditional line of aggressive progress of Turkish power.
Hungary was attacked on the ground that the payment of tribute was
refused. In 1521, after two important battles, Belgrade was besieged
by the Sultan; the fate of the city was decided by the defection of
its Servian and Bulgarian allies. Twenty assaults were made, and there
were only 400 able-bodied men in the garrison, when a mutiny among the
inhabitants forced the town to capitulate on August 29, 1521.

The conquest of Rhodes, the center of Christian resistance in the East,
was now not long delayed. A large navy of 200 vessels appeared off the
island with a summons to the grand master, Villiers de l’lsle Adam, to
surrender. Souliman had collected an army of 100,000 men to undertake
the siege, but the defenders were not terrified. Every assault made
on the great bastions of the citadel caused enormous losses among the
Turks; but their prolonged artillery fire and the new supplies of
men, drawn constantly from Asia, showed the mere handful of defenders
that their struggle could have only one outcome. In December, 1522,
the island capitulated on terms that were favorable to the heroic
defenders; even the Sultan appreciated the tragedy, for he is recorded
to have said to his favorite Ibrahim, that he was loath to force this
Christian commander, in his old age, to leave his house and his goods.

[Illustration: SULEYMAN THE MAGNIFICENT

(In Youth.)]

The next field of Souliman’s military enterprise was Persia, where
the Shah, by the defection of an Ottoman official, had recovered some
of the territory taken by Selim. Souliman, appearing with a large
force, received the submission of many of the Shah’s vassals, and,
after a long march to the East, during which his cannon had to be
abandoned, entered the ancient capital of the Khalifate, Bagdad, in
1535. But several other campaigns were required to establish definite
possession of the country. Finally, after many victories, peace was
signed at Amasia, on the 29th of May, 1555, a step which implied that
the Sunnite Turks acknowledged the legitimacy of a Shiite monarchy.
In the mountains of Armenia and Kurdistan the extension of Ottoman
power encountered serious obstacles. Native chieftains and princes
followed their own caprices and their own interests in changing their
allegiance to Shah or Sultan. There was constant guerrilla warfare,
without any notable advantage to Turkish arms. In the southern regions
at the confluence of the Tigris and the Euphrates, the Ottoman power
was firmly established; Turkish vessels were to be seen now in the Red
Sea and the Persian Gulf. Aden was occupied and the control of Yemen
made effective. But the chief effort of Souliman was directed against
the King of Hungary and the Emperor Charles V. A curious and novel
development of European diplomacy was seen, when Francis I, the French
King, appealed to the Sultan in his difficulties, after his defeat
at the hands of Charles in Italy. Souliman sent a gracious message
assuring the imprisoned monarch of his support, and spoke of his own
throne as the refuge of the world; “night and day,” he added, “our
horse is saddled and our sword girded.” In 1526 the Sultan marched
from his capital to give battle to Charles, the “hated head of the
infidels,” with an army of 100,000 men and 300 cannon. There was a
great battle with the Hungarian troops at Mohacs (August 28, 1526).
After a hot engagement of two hours, the Christians left on the field
20,000 foot and 400 horse, and of the prisoners 400 were put to death.

A few days after the battle Buda surrendered to the Turks, and the
Hungarian kingdom was harried by the Turkish irregular forces.
Everywhere they went, their path was marked by massacre. Ten thousand
captives were taken, and the result of the campaign was almost the
disappearance of Hungary as an independent Christian kingdom, because,
after the taking of Buda, Souliman called to him the Hungarian nobles
and settled who should be their king. The kingdom was now rent by
factions, some of the nobles siding with the Sultan’s candidate, John
Zapolya, while others accepted Ferdinand, the brother of Charles V.
When Zapolya appeared at Constantinople, because of the failure of his
faction to support his claims, the Sultan, after securing from him a
formal engagement as vassal, undertook to place him on the Hungarian
throne. The promise was more than made good. In October, 1529, the
Turks appeared before the walls of Vienna with 250,000 men and 300
cannon. To defend the city there were only 16,000 men and 70 pieces
of artillery. But the defense was conducted with such spirit and
intelligence that the Turkish army was compelled to withdraw. When
winter approached, the extent of the ravages of the Turkish arms was
marked by attacks on Regensburg and Brunn. Later on, another expedition
was made into Styria, where the country suffered terrible devastations.

Under the stress of these alarms the powers of Western Europe,
irrespective of religious differences, banded together to resist the
enemy. Even Francis I was concerned at the rapidity of the success
of his ally, the Sultan, and sent an ambassador to Constantinople to
entreat Souliman to hold his hand. Finally, owing to the difficulties
with Persia, the Sultan agreed to sign a treaty of peace with Hungary
in 1533, by which Ferdinand was allowed to hold the land already
occupied by him. But the war with Charles V, and with his ally, Venice,
still went on, chiefly a contest at sea between the Turkish admiral,
Kheir-ed-Din, and his Venetian antagonist, Andrew Doria, without
decisive results, except the capture of many of the Venetian islands
in the Ægean. In 1541 steps were taken, when dissensions arose again
in Hungary between the heirs of Zapolya and Ferdinand, to make the
conquest of part of the country effective. A Turkish pasha-lik was
formed, with Buda as its capital, and for 147 years Buda remained an
Ottoman city. Further conquests were made of Van, or Stuhlweissenburg,
the city where the Hungarian kings were consecrated, and Vychegrad,
where the royal crown of Hungary was kept. Owing to the valor of the
people there were repeated efforts on the part of the Hungarians to
renew resistance to the Ottoman domination. A treaty was made in 1567,
when the aged Sultan, worn out by constant warfare, was willing to
concede to the Emperor Ferdinand an arrangement for the payment of an
annual tribute. Although peace was formally declared, disturbances on
the frontier still continued, and the seas were not free from acts of
piracy.

As Spain had not been included in the treaty of 1562, a Spanish
flotilla of twenty-two ships was destroyed near the island of Djerba,
which had previously been seized by Spain. Not long afterwards a
Turkish armada of 191 vessels sailed against the island of Malta, with
the purpose of bringing to the home of the Knights Hospitalers the ruin
that had already been inflicted at Rhodes on their brethren. For four
months the siege lasted, costing the assailants nearly 20,000 men.
Dragut, the Turkish commander, was slain, and finally, on September
11, 1565, the undertaking was abandoned as hopeless, and the Turkish
armament withdrew.

Souliman’s days were brought to an end in the midst of the siege of a
Hungarian town, Sziget, one of the many events of the frontier warfare
carried on without intermission, irrespective of the treaty between the
heads of the two states. His death was carefully concealed from his men
for fear of discouraging them in their assaults on the citadel of the
town, which was being heroically defended by Zriny. Three days after
the Sultan’s death, on the 8th of September, 1566, only the central
tower of the fort was left in the hands of the Hungarian champion. He
loaded up his cannon to the muzzle, and in the smoke of the cannonade
rushed into the thick of the Turkish lines and perished. He had taken
care to arrange for the blowing up of the powder magazine at the time
he made his sortie. The great tower fell in ruins, burying in the
débris 3000 Turks. Souliman, in his life of seventy-one years, had
personally led sixteen campaigns against the Christians; despite gout
and physical weakness he would not hand over to a lieutenant the work
of wiping out on the battlefield the stigma inflicted on Turkish arms
by the failure at Malta.




VII THE DECLINE OF THE OTTOMANS


In the expansion of their empire the main characteristic of the
Ottomans had been fidelity to their tribal origin in Asia and to their
religion; they showed little elasticity in modifying their system of
government to new conditions, but they did recognize the necessity of
progress. After their conversion to Mohammedanism their supreme guide
was the “cheriat,” under which term is signified the religious law
of orthodox Moslems in the threefold division of Koran, Sunna, and
the Sentences. In addition to this, there were the various official
interpretations from the Sultan’s hand in the application of the law
called the Kanoun. So much importance had this aspect of the Sultan’s
functions that Souliman is remembered under his title of El Kanouni,
that is, as a Turkish Justinian, rather than as a great military leader.

As head of the Empire, the Sultan’s various titles are significant of
the progressive stages of Ottoman development from a tribe to a great
world power. The sovereign was still called Khan, as the head of a
Turkish nomadic horde. When the Turks were converted to Islam, there
was first added the title emir, an Arabic word, Chief of Believers;
then came the name sultan, king; after the conquest of Constantinople,
the Persian term padishah, king of kings, came into use. As we have
seen, the conquest of Syria, of Egypt, and Arabia, made the Sultan
defender of the holy cities and khalif.

After the conquest of the capital of the Cæsars, the influence of
Byzantine traditions introduced a rigid system of court ceremonial;
the days of patriarchal simplicity were closed; the person of the
Sultan was raised in dignity. The change is clearly indicated in an
edict by Mohammed: “It is not my will that anyone should eat with my
imperial majesty; our ancestors were wont to eat with their ministers,
but I have abolished it.” The influence of the Byzantine bureaucratic
hierarchy can be traced in the method of Ottoman administration; even
in small details the permanence of the Roman imperial tradition is
noteworthy. The sovereign’s documents were, like those of his Greek
predecessors, written in gold, purple, and azure. His letters of
victory are but a continuation of the “litterae laureatae,” while
the bakkchich given to the Janitschars is but a reminiscence of the
Imperial donation.

But actual assimilation between the Turks and their subject peoples
was prevented by difference of religion. Racial differences made no
distinction between Greeks, Albanians, Slavs, and Roumanians; they were
all orthodox Christians, while the same people, if they became converts
to Islam, were turned into Ottomans. The two types of religious
allegiance were mutually irreconcilable. The peculiarity of Ottoman
absolutism is to be found in the exclusion from governmental offices
both of the free Moslem and the free Christian subjects of the Empire.
The administration from top to bottom was in the hands of slaves, and
these slaves were largely recruited from the children of Christian
families of the subject races, who were constantly exposed to a
detestable and unnatural form of oppression. The conquered populations
were ruled despotically by men of Christian birth, who, during their
initiation into slavery, had become Moslems. The famous Admiral Dragut
was the son of a Christian of Asia Minor. Many of the famous generals
were taken from Christian Albanian, Bosnian, and Dalmatian families. Of
forty-eight grand viziers, only twelve were of Moslem birth.

Many Christians also became renegades, since an easy road to fortune
was opened to them in this way. The hardy, adventurous, and less
scrupulous elements of the conquered races accepted the religion of
their conquerors; even a Paleologus, one of the last descendants
of the imperial line, became a Moslem. There were conversions on a
large scale, accomplished without special pressure among the landed
proprietors, who were warriors by tradition, and who refused to endure
the restrictions placed upon them by their religious profession.

The absolutism of the Sultan allowed no rival in any of the religious
dignitaries of Islam. Even the Cheikh-ul-Islam had no authority over
the Sultan; though the supreme ecclesiastical dignitary, he was only
an authoritative expert in the law, the head of the body of oulemas,
whose opinions could, if necessary, be passed over. At the same time
the Cheikh-ul-Islam’s advice carried weight, and we sometimes hear
of ambassadors being protected from the rage of the Sultan by his
intervention. Legally, the Sultan was altogether above the law, or,
rather, outside of it; he had the right to execute his brothers and
children “if the peace of the world required it.”

While women in the household of the Padishah played no conspicuous
rôle, there were exceptions to the rule. Under the institution of the
harem the Sultan’s wives were slaves, and frequently domestic discords
that had an influence on the destiny of the Empire were the result
of harem intrigues. Often the sons of the Sultan were children of
different parents. It was remarked in the time of Souliman that one of
his wives, Roxelane, perhaps a Russian, acquired great ascendency over
him. The Venetian ambassador reported that Souliman, contrary to the
custom of his ancestors, had taken her for his legitimate wife. She
became practically an empress, and was responsible for the Sultan’s
policy on several occasions. The war with Persia and the undermining of
the power of the grand vizier were due to her.

As to the army, it kept the basis marked out for it by Ala-ed-Din. The
élite body of the Janitschars still formed the chief protection of the
Sultan’s power. From the regular tribute of blood only Constantinople,
Athens, Rhodes, a few other islands, and the Mainotes, the Laconian
mountaineers, were exempted. Every five years the officers of the
Sultan passed through the villages where children of the peasants
were collected, and each fifth one was taken. Oftentimes Christian
families were glad to pay the exaction even before the tax collectors
appeared. Many of the members of the corps preserved traces of their
early faith, and so drank wine without scruple. The solidarity of the
body was maintained by exceptional privileges; their pay was large;
they had a special share of the booty, or regular donatives, and the
assurance of a pension for old age. The Janitschars were forbidden
to marry or to engage in any trade. They could be punished only by
their own officers, and even the grand vizier had no jurisdiction
over them. In the time of Souliman they numbered 12,000, and as their
numbers increased their turbulence grew. Selim attempted to meet this
difficulty by incorporating in their body 7000 of the palace servants,
and by dividing the command.

In the government of the subject peoples no uniformity was observed.
The inhabitants of mountain regions, the Albanians, the Montenegrins,
the Mainotes, the dwellers on Mt. Libanus, were protected from
tyrannical actions. Where the country was level, there were no bounds
to the barbarity of Turkish governmental methods. The vassal states,
such as Transylvania, Moldavia, Georgia, were still ruled by native
princes. But under Ottoman rule, in spite of the constant wars and the
attendant anarchic conditions, there was worked out a crude kind of
unity throughout the Empire. At least, with an Ottoman overlord, there
prevailed a condition of internal peace between the various portions of
the Empire, that gave stability to commercial relations and rendered
communication easy between distant parts. Religious persecution in
the sense in which it had existed in the Byzantine Empire, and in the
Eastern domains of the Italian municipalities, was now unknown. At
Rhodes the Greeks preferred the new régime to the rule of the Knights
Hospitalers, who, as Latins, had showed no sympathy with the Orthodox
Church. In Crete and Greece the Turks were more popular as masters than
the Venetians; and the Servians, Hungarians, and Roumanians preferred
Moslem control to that of Catholic Austria.

Economically, the substitution of Turkish for Byzantine rule was a
benefit to the Greek industrial population, who were better protected
against foreign competition than they had ever been. Customs duties
were arranged by an ad valorem scale, under which the Italian merchants
were taxed four and a half times as much as the native Christians,
although these, in turn, paid more than the Moslem traders who were
favored by the Ottoman government. The Greek parts of the Empire
entered upon an era of prosperity such as had not been seen since
before the Latin conquest of Constantinople. For example, a large
colony of Greeks established themselves at Ancona, where, in 1549, they
transacted business to the annual value of 500,000 ducats. Moreover,
the persecution of the Moors and Jews of Spain brought much capital
into Ottoman territory; soon there were numbered 30,000 Spanish Jews at
Constantinople, and 15,000 to 20,000 at Salonica. On this commercial
basis the national renascence of the Greek peoples was founded. The
landed proprietors of their own race mostly became Moslems, while their
scholars and literary men found a refuge in the Occident; but the
traders made and kept a place for themselves. Hence there was created a
new center in which the old ideals of an independent Greek nationality
could grow.

The Slav peoples were much worse off than the Greek population, because
over their provinces were scattered Turkish garrisons, and through them
passed the roads used by the Sultan for the interminable expeditions
into Hungary. They retained fewer traces of autonomous existence,
and their clergy were more ignorant than the Greek. The higher
ecclesiastical positions were never bestowed on Slavs, and their landed
gentry mostly became Moslem. The Roumanians, who were more remotely
situated, preserved, under the form of vassalage, a complete national
organization. They paid a moderate tribute, and were obliged to furnish
military contingents, but there were no Turks in their territory, and
no mosques were built among them. Wallachia and Moldavia, in the time
of Souliman, made more than one attempt to throw off Turkish rule, but
both principalities were compelled to submit before the middle of the
sixteenth century.

The Turkish conquest of North Africa begins, strictly speaking, with
the resistance of the Moslem Berber tribes and princes to the extension
of Spanish influence over the African Mediterranean coast towns. This
was a primary object of Charles V, who was bent on following up, by
his control of sea power, the expulsion of the Moors from Spain. After
many vicissitudes, Kheir-ed-Din, who had a powerful rival supported by
the Spaniards, became King of Algiers. He turned to ask help from the
Sultan of Constantinople, Selim, and he offered, in return, to become
his vassal and to incorporate his small kingdom as an integral part of
the Ottoman Empire.

Selim sent to Kheir-ed-Din 2000 Janitschars, well realizing the
importance of using Algiers to block the progress of Charles V in his
North African ambitions. Four thousand men were also recruited in
Anatolia to defend the Moslem cause. It was a critical time, when the
Viceroy of Sicily (1519), at the head of an armada of forty ships,
appeared off Algiers. The Spaniards were beaten off, and many of the
ships were lost in a storm. An even greater success for Moslem arms
was the conquest, ten years later, of the citadel of Peñon, which
commanded the harbor of the city that had for long been in the hands
of the Spaniards. The island on which it stood was, by instructions
from Kheir-ed-Din, joined to the mainland, and so an impregnably
fortified harbor was constructed, which turned Algiers into the lasting
home of those Barbary pirates that were for so long the plague of the
Mediterranean commerce.

In 1535, Tunis was captured by Charles V in person, that monarch’s
great expedition of 400 ships and 30,000 men having proved too strong
for Kheir-ed-Din, who had hurried to save the place with only 9000
men. At Algiers, the Emperor’s next objective, Kheir-ed-Din could not
take part personally in the work of defense, since he was not kept in
command of the Turkish fleet. The government of Algiers was turned
over to Hassan Aka, no idle leader. The Christian Emperor’s armada was
calculated to inspire terror; when it gathered at Spezzia, in August,
1541, it numbered 65 galleys and 451 transports, ready to embark the
29,000 troops, German, Italian, and Spanish, and the members of the
Knights of Malta. In addition to the Emperor, who was in command, there
were a large number of high officers of the various arms, and members
of the nobility from Charles V’s wide domains.

To oppose this brilliant host, Hassan had only 800 Turks, 5000 Moors,
some Moriscos from Spain, and a few renegades from the Island of
Majorca. There were rumors of treachery on the part of Hassan, but when
the actual attack was made, nothing was left undone by him to keep up
an effective resistance. He was helped by a severe storm, which caused
much damage to the fleet; many ships were driven ashore, where the
crews were attacked and the cargoes seized. An attempt to attack one of
the forts by which the city was defended failed; the imperial troops
got near the walls, but no farther; even the heroism of the Knights
of Malta failed to save the day. The Spanish admiral, Doria, insisted
that the expedition should reimbark, as his ships could not hold their
anchorage. No other attempt on such a scale was made to arrest the
progress of the Turkish vassal powers in North Africa. Tripoli was
conquered in 1556, and there was incessant warfare with the Sherif of
Fez, and also with the Spaniards, who still continued to hold Oran.

After the death of Hassan, the Turkish Beglerbeg at Algiers was
Euldj-Ali, the son of a Calabrian fisherman. He had given up his faith
and become one of the most dreaded Corsairs in the Mediterranean.
He promoted the revolt of the Spanish Moriscos, afterwards winning
a great success at Tunis, where, in 1573, Don John of Austria had
brought 27,000 men to defend the Spanish citadel in the harbor. Euldj
gathered an overwhelming force, took Goletta, and massacred the Spanish
garrison. By this decisive victory Tunis became the seat of a Turkish
pashalik. His next step was to make the throne of Morocco dependent on
the Sultan.

The government of these African provinces was strictly centralized;
over the whole was a Beglerbeg, who transmitted to his subordinates
the directions which he received from Stamboul. The military strength
of the provinces was remarkable, notwithstanding the unimportant part
played by the regular Turkish soldiers. In their place there were
regiments of renegades, Kabyles, and mercenaries of many nationalities.
The navy was made up of corsairs, organized in a kind of guild, whose
members made a life business of hazardous expeditions on the sea for
the purpose of plundering vessels or harrying coast towns. No effort
was made to interfere with the local customs of the tribes in the
interior. All that was asked by the Beglerbeg was free passage for
military expeditions and the payment of a large tribute.

Turkish rule was maintained with a very small display of military
power. The whole country was controlled by little more than 15,000 men,
most of them in a small number of garrison towns. Scattered through the
country were small divisions of soldiers, whose chief business was the
collection of the tribute. For the purposes of local government there
were artificial tribes made up of natives, placed under the authority
of a sheik or religious personage. The government of Algiers gave these
groups certain landed concessions, and they paid some small dues to
the sheik. They were expected to support soldiers or travelers when
these appeared in their territory. They lived in tents or huts along
a highway and the principal group was called a konak. In addition
there were the real tribes, of warlike temper, that had once been
independent; they paid no tax on their land or herds, but they had the
function of collecting the tribute from inferior tribes called raias.
This recognized position was enough to secure their loyalty.

The Algerian corsairs became famous for their ravages in the narrow
seas, for their ships were models for speed and lightness, and their
crews worked under the strictest discipline. Each vessel carried
soldiers, cannon, and artillerymen. The merchant vessels they seized
were brought back to Algiers, where the passengers, crews, and cargoes
were sold at auction. These undertakings proved most profitable to
the captains, “Reis,” who built themselves a quarter of the town,
where they lived in houses resembling fortresses, since their captives
were kept in these buildings (bagni) until they could be sold. So was
formed a Barbary aristocracy, which ended by winning its independence
from Turkish rule. Among the corsairs were many renegades, especially
Italians.

Algiers developed from a small town to a city of 100,000 souls. Many
of the captives gave up Christianity and won their freedom. With
such elements it is not surprising that the hold of the Turks on the
inhabitants became weakened, until finally, not long after Greece won
its freedom, Algiers was conquered by the French in the reign of Louis
Philippe.

After the death of Souliman the Ottoman Sultanate underwent an eclipse.
The succession of strong rulers was broken, and the empire was largely
under the direction of the women of the harem and slaves. Of the eight
successors of Souliman, one only can be called a military leader; many
were mere children when they were called to the throne. Even Murad IV
(1623-40), the most active of all, took the title of Sultan when he
was twelve years old, and his career ended when he was twenty-eight.
But even under such unfavorable conditions the progress of Turkish
conquests was not arrested.

Of the western powers, the chief rival of the Ottoman Empire, during
the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, was Venice. At the cost of
a yearly tribute of 236,000 ducats, she enjoyed great commercial
privileges, was mistress of possessions in the Levant and on the
Dalmatian coast, and blocked the way to complete Ottoman domination.
Though Rhodes had been taken from the Knights, as we have seen, the
large islands of Cyprus and Crete were still in the hands of the
republic of the Adriatic, and her possessions in the Ægean Sea were a
constant source of annoyance to the Turkish lords of the Morea. Piracy
flourished in these ports, which became centers of retaliation for the
excesses of the Barbary corsairs.

Aggressive measures were taken by Selim, Souliman’s successor, who,
after long years of peace between the two powers, summoned Venice, in
1570, to surrender the Island of Cyprus. One hundred and seventy-one
Ottoman galleys supported the demand. Venice had tried to get the
Christian powers to coöperate against the Turks, even calling on the
Persians and the Arab tribes of Yemen to aid her in the defense of the
island. But the arms of the Turkish generals soon prevailed. The chief
fortress of the island, Famagusta, capitulated in 1571; and with its
fall the Turks began the occupation of the island, which only ended
after the war between Turkey and Russia in 1878.

During the progress of the siege an anti-Turkish league had been
completed, composed of Venice and the Papacy, Spain, the Knights of
Malta, and many Italian states. The result was the despatch of a large
fleet under the command of Don John of Austria, at this time a youth
of only twenty-two years. The objective of the armada was Patras,
because, in the Gulf of Lepanto, close at hand, all of the squadrons
of the Turkish navy were assembled. In all, the allies had 208 ships
of war, the Ottomans slightly more, but the weakness of the Turks was
due to the lack of soldiers to defend their fleet. There were but
2500 Janitschars on their galleys, the rest were troops raised from
continental Greece, 22,000 in all, who were either new recruits or
were not trained for naval warfare. Among the Turkish captains were
present many older men who desired to avoid conflict with the Christian
armada. Of a different temper were Hassan Pasha, the son of the famous
Kheir-ed-Din, and Ali-Muezzin-Zade, the new captain pasha of the whole
fleet.

The Christian fleet was in an admirable state of preparation for the
fight. It was composed entirely of armed vessels directed by skilful
rowers; besides the 203 galleys there were six galiasses, great
floating citadels carrying heavy artillery and 500 soldiers. Don
John had also armed the Venetian vessels with contingents of Spanish
infantry. On the side of the Christians there was the additional
advantage of superior equipment in armor and weapons for the individual
warrior. The soldiers wore helmets and breastplates, and were armed
with arquebuses, while the Turks used lances and arrows. There were
also superior numbers on the side of the allies, the fighting men
numbering between 28,000 and 29,000.

The two fleets took up the same position and adopted the same tactics.
In the center on each side were collected the largest ships under the
command of the respective chief admirals. Some initial successes were
won by the Ottomans over the division made up of the Venetian vessels,
but in the center, after desperate fighting, the men under Don John,
owing to their superior weapons, got the better of their enemies, and
the captain pasha was killed. The Algerian vessels showed much tactical
superiority to the Christian right wing, under the command of John
Andrew Doria; but, although they inflicted much damage, they could not
save the day for the Ottomans. The victory cost the Christians dear,
for they lost 12 galleys and 7500 men. But the defeat of the Turks was
overwhelming; 15 galleys were sunk, 177 were captured, and many pashas
and governors of provinces lost their lives; 12,000 to 15,000 of the
galley slaves on the Turkish vessels, Christian captives, were set free.

Such was the remarkable victory of October 7, 1571, remarkable not only
for the heroism displayed, and the sensation caused by the success of
the Christians, who had for so long been incapable of resisting Ottoman
aggression, but also because of the small practical results produced.
The Christian armada returned to Corfu, and from there made for the
coast of Italy, where it disbanded. On the side of the vanquished,
Euldj-Ali, gathering together eighty-seven ships as a nucleus for a
new Ottoman fleet, sailed into the harbor of Constantinople, and was
welcomed as a conqueror by the Sultan and the grand vizier, Sokoli. New
honors were heaped upon him, not altogether undeserved, for during the
winter a new fleet, larger and better armed than the one destroyed, was
made ready for sea.

The recuperative energy of the Ottoman Empire was not lost on the
Venetians, and their agent at Constantinople, Antonio Barbaro, saw that
there was more than an empty boast in the words of the Vizier, who
said to him, “There is a great difference between your loss and ours.
By taking from you the Kingdom of Cyprus we have cut off your arm; by
defeating our fleet you have only shaved our beard. A beard grows out
thicker for being shaven.” This argument appealed to the republic, and
in 1573 peace was made. The conditions were the cession of Cyprus,
the payment of a heavy war indemnity by Venice, and a regulation of
the frontier in Albania and Dalmatia, that secured to the Turks their
ancient possessions there. The Venetians also were required to increase
the annual tribute exacted for the Island of Zante, which was still in
their hands.

Three generations after the taking of Cyprus the long-coveted island
of Crete, or Candia, was annexed to the Ottoman Empire. Hostilities
began between Venice and Sultan Ibrahim I, because of the seizure by
the Knights of Malta of a Turkish vessel carrying high officials of the
court to Egypt. The Maltese ships were received in the friendly harbors
of Crete, where they took refuge. In April, 1645, a great fleet of 302
ships, and a large army of over 100,000 men, commanded by a Dalmatian,
Pasha Joseph Markovitch, set sail for Crete. In June, one of the two
chief fortresses of the island, Canea, was invested. After two months’
siege it surrendered. In 1648 began the first siege of Candia, but this
stronghold proved as hard to capture as Rhodes. During the course of
twenty-one years it was the objective of repeated attacks on the part
of the Turks, and only fell into their hands in 1669.

As has been seen, the Ottoman Empire began to decay from the top. The
Sultan finally became the mere figurehead of palace intrigues, and the
effect of the rottenness in the supreme head of a centralized military
despotism was widespread. Taxation became extravagantly burdensome;
the royal domains were alienated, the coinage was debased, offices
were sold to the highest bidder, and this general venality caused the
disappearance of the military fiefs from which the armies of the empire
had been recruited.

The Janitschars lost their characteristic qualities as warriors when
the custom of recruiting them from the Christian population was
abandoned. They finally degenerated into a mere rabble of turbulent
blackguards, composed of the worst elements of all nationalities,
Christian and Moslem, who disappeared from the ranks during a war,
or fled from the battlefield and lived normally by blackmail or
by illicit trading. The abandonment of this living tithe was due
probably to the jealousy of the Moslem families, who objected to the
monopolizing by men of Christian birth of the lucrative privileges
attached to an élite corps. The last time the tithe was collected
was in 1676, when 3000 youths were brought in as recruits. With the
abolition of the Janitschars dates the rise of the bands of brigands
among both the Slavic and Hellenic populations. The able-bodied members
of the conquered races found in this sphere of activity a chance for
developing their capacities in guerrilla warfare; with the training
and traditions so acquired they were able in later years to act as
the leaders in the national movements which, during the course of the
nineteenth century, ended in the dismemberment of the Ottoman provinces
in Europe.

       *       *       *       *       *

SPANISH CONQUERORS




I THE SPANIARD AND THE NEW WORLD


In the century which followed the discovery of America, not only was
the lead in initiative taken by Spain never lost, but she practically
had no competitors in the conquest and colonization of the New World.
If the lines of medieval enterprise had been followed in the opening
up of new territories for economic development, it should have fallen
either to Venice or to Genoa to undertake the work of exploration
and exploitation of these unknown regions. But times had changed,
and the Italian republics had changed with them. Under the stress of
the Turkish conquests, which had led to the organization of a great
military and naval power in the East, Venice could follow nothing but
a policy of self-protection that admitted neither of expansion nor of
adventure. Internal changes in the Italian peninsula, indicated by
the overlordship of Milan, had reduced the power of Genoa, which had
already been weakened by her long contest with Venice for the naval
mastery of the Mediterranean.

The rise of Spain was phenomenal; nothing exactly resembling it had
been seen before, except in the case of those great tribal or national
invasions that so often altered the face of Europe. For centuries,
like Italy before the advent of Italian unity, Spain was only a
geographical expression. Only fourteen years before Columbus’ first
voyage, the marriage of Ferdinand of Aragon and Isabella of Castile had
consolidated the royal power on the Iberian peninsula and made these
two Spanish monarchs lords of the whole land south of the Pyrenees,
except in the kingdoms of Granada in the south, of Portugal in the
west, and of Navarre in the north. A steady policy of aggression and
conquest soon brought about the disappearance of the small kingdom of
Granada. Between 1486 and 1489 Loja, Malaga, and Baza had been taken;
Granada alone held out a few years more. Ferdinand, a most astute
monarch of the type of Louis XI of France and Henry VII of England, had
already crushed the Portuguese faction in Castile, who had favored the
alliance of their queen with the King of Portugal. His ideals were for
an absolute monarchy, which, by the elimination of feudal traditions
and by the accumulation of wealth, might become the predominant power
in western Europe.

There was no reason for Spain to become a colonizing power in the
modern sense, since the peninsula was a sparsely populated country,
large tracts of land having been opened up for occupation by the
Christian conquests of Moorish territory. In preceding centuries,
when the Christian princes began to win back, piece by piece, the
lands belonging to the Moslems, a conciliatory policy had been adopted
towards the conquered race; the Moors had kept their personal liberties
and had been encouraged to group themselves in autonomous communities
in the suburbs of Christian cities. Even when Granada was taken,
favorable terms were given to its inhabitants, although in the end the
promises were broken. They were conceded liberty of person, trade,
education, and worship, the protection of Mohammedan law, administered
by Mohammedan judges, and the benefit of mixed tribunals. But here and
elsewhere Ferdinand’s methods were a consistent application of the
principles of an autocrat, and, when the New World fell as a prize to
the Spanish conquerors, the usages of expansion by conquest at home
in the Iberian peninsula were mercilessly applied. When Malaga was
taken, the captive inhabitants were sold as slaves; one-third of the
proceeds of the sale was taken for the redemption of Christian captives
in Africa; another was given to those who had served in the army of
occupation either as mercenaries or as officials, and the remaining
portion was paid into the royal treasury. As to the land, it was laid
out for a colony. The large tracts opened to colonization were offered
on easy conditions to the Christian inhabitants of Spain.

It was not land hunger, therefore, which prompted the Spanish monarchs
to accept Columbus’ scheme of a westward route to the rich empires of
the Orient. Profit-bringing trade by which stores of specie could be
accumulated attracted the founders of Spanish absolutism. The project
itself was not viewed with skepticism; its scientific basis was cogent;
there were besides widely circulated stories of land existing in the
West. But the one practical difficulty in the way of fitting out the
proposed expedition was the war with the Moors of Granada, by which the
Spanish treasury had been exhausted. After the city fell in January,
1492, several months were spent in haggling over terms. Columbus
had made up his mind that if the voyage were sucessful he should be
adequately rewarded for his trouble. Apart from conditions as to
offices and the administration of the newly acquired possessions, it
was agreed that he was to receive one clear tenth of all merchandise,
whether gold, silver, pearls, spices, or whatsoever else was gained
or gotten for the crown in his new jurisdiction. Moreover, there was
a further clause inserted that in case Columbus should choose to
contribute to the equipment of vessels employed in the new trade to
the extent of one-eighth, he was to be at liberty to do so, thereby
entitling himself to one-eighth part of the profits.

The prospects of a great trading adventure seemed altogether alluring.
It must be remembered that the discoverer carried with him a letter
from the Catholic monarchs to the Grand Khan of Tartary; and that
it was this opening up of a direct trade route, with enormous
possibilities for commercial profit, that inspired the Spanish conquest
of America. Even after the configuration of the new continent had
been made out by later voyagers, the fascination of establishing
a connection with the Orient remained a strong inducement. Then
as it faded away as an immediate possibility, the opportunity of
securing large hoards of the precious metals stimulated discovery and
exploration. The lust of territorial conquest remained associated with
the lust of gold. The Spanish adventurer had no ideal aims; he was
not attracted by the American continent because it offered a new home
or because it presented a chance for trying political experiments.
There was the same single-mindedness in the conquistador ideal as is
seen to-day in the trust magnate who is searching for oil wells. The
sordid aims called forth by the success of Columbus’ expedition were
not developed by the contest with the natives occupying the lands whose
possession was coveted.

When the Spanish conquerors arrived in those unknown islands of
the western sea the American continent was held by a number of the
Turanian races which had one time peopled most of the Old World. Only
a few relics of their predominance are seen in the Europe of to-day
in the Basques, the Finns, and the Esthonians. Long before historical
times the process of uniting Asia and Europe with America had begun.
Probably thousands of years before the rise of Caucasian civilization
along the Nile and the Euphrates, Turanian hordes found their way
across the Behring Straits. Little capacity for attaining the arts of
civilized life was shown by the American Turanians; there were, it is
true, differences in social organization, but the general level of
civilization was not far above the savage type, even in the Valley of
Mexico or in Quito and Cuzco in South America.

Those who took part in the overthrow of the Aztec and Inca governments
magnified their own achievements by describing themselves as the
conquerors of great civilized empires. Such fictions were natural in
men who desired to exalt the difficulties of a suddenly achieved fame,
and the exaggeration was the more easily believed because of their
seizure of large stores of those precious metals by which, in the Old
World, progress in civilization was measured. From the point of view
both of the home government and of those who took part in the first
cycle of voyages, there was not much encouragement of profit to be
derived in the islands and shores of the mainland touched by Columbus
and by those who worked under his leadership and inspiration from
1492-1517--that is, during the first twenty-five years of Spanish
conquest.

In the first voyage of Columbus much of the coast of Hayti was explored
because of the stories told as to the existence of gold on the
island. In the second expedition, made the following year, Dominica,
Guadeloupe, Puerto Rico, Jamaica were discovered. The foundation of the
first Spanish city on the island of Hayti was laid; then the explorer
passed along the north coast of Cuba, which especially interested him
because he took it to be the mainland of Cathay and Cipango not far
from Malacca. In 1498, after discovering Trinidad, he reached the
South American continent at the mouth of the Orinoco River, which was
identified by him as one of the streams of the terrestrial paradise.
Then followed complaints of administrative abuses which led to
Columbus’ return to the Spanish peninsula as a prisoner.

There was a fourth voyage in 1502 which extended as far as Honduras.
After showing a piece of gold to the natives Columbus inquired of them
by signs where the metal could be found. They pointed to the east,
and after some further communications Columbus was convinced that the
land of Cathay lay in that direction. He spent many weeks afterward in
tacking along the shore against adverse winds and currents. Finally he
landed at a place called by the natives Veragua, where the signs of
civilized life, indicated by the village communities and the numbers
of temples and sepulchers constructed of stone and lime, and suitably
decorated, and, above all, the abundance of gold demonstrated to him
that he had reached the golden Chersonese of the East. This was the
land, he was sure, that had furnished King Solomon with his famous
treasures. He set out from Veragua certain of discovering after a few
leagues’ journey the straits of Malacca. After that, to reach the mouth
of the Ganges would only be a matter of a few days. When he found the
peninsula larger than he expected, he turned back to Veragua, meaning
to found a permanent settlement there; but the warlike natives forced
him to take refuge on his ships. Disheartened, the explorer withdrew
to Hayti, from whence he returned to Spain, where he died on May 20,
1506.

There was a curious vein of mysticism in Columbus’ character, which
comes out in a quotation made by him in his later years, from the
famous medieval Apocalyptic, Joachim of Calabria. “The Rabbi Joachim,”
he writes, “says that out of Spain shall come he who shall rebuild the
House of Mount Zion.” His discovery, the explorer explained, would
bring about the recovery of the Holy City and of the Sepulcher of
Christ by means of the gold which would be found in the Indies. When he
returned the first time from Hayti to Spain, he wrote that those whom
he left behind would easily collect a ton of gold while he was absent,
and that, therefore, in less than three years the capture of the Holy
Sepulcher and the conquest of Jerusalem could be undertaken. Later on,
he provided that the accumulated income of his property, which was to
be invested in shares of the Bank of St. George in Genoa paying six
per cent., should to the extent of one-half go to aid the expenses of
recovering the holy places in Palestine.

The constant quest for gold that stimulated the voyages of the great
explorer had, therefore, its basis in this extraordinary and fanatical
revival of the spirit which had once inspired the Crusades. It was
almost a mania with Columbus, whose letters contain eulogies on gold:
“Who hath this, hath all that can be desired in the world; gold can
even bring souls into Paradise.” Though the metal could not be found
in great quantities, he discovered nevertheless a way by which the
New World might be made to yield the gold which was wanted. It was
Columbus who started in America the traffic in human beings. The day
after he arrived in the West Indies, he talked of the prospect of
using the Indians for slave traffic, and he promised to send to Europe
a whole shipful of these idolaters. He kept his promise also, for
in 1495 he sent five hundred Indian captives to be sold at Seville.
The next year three hundred more arrived at Cadiz. It has been not
unnaturally supposed that the harsh treatment received later on by the
explorer at the hands of the governor of Hayti had a close connection
with Columbus’ persistent policy of recruiting slave gangs from the
natives of the islands he had visited. It is certain that Isabella
was so outraged by the constant stream of West Indian slaves which
had its source in Columbus’ discoveries that she frequently directed
their repatriation. It is significant also that Bobadilla, the man who
sent Columbus back to Spain in irons, is spoken of by Las Casas as an
upright and humane person.

This willingness to allow the inauguration of a trade in slaves in
lieu of the export from the New World of the precious metal which was
so persistently sought for may be also explained by the strangeness
and uncouthness of the inhabitants of the West Indian islands. Apart
from the Mexicans and Peruvians, the greatest extent of the New World
was inhabited by peoples who had not yet got beyond the hunting stages
of culture. They used, of course, articulate speech, they had the
knowledge of fire, and employed a few rude instruments of stone and
wood, but they were essentially savages, and up to this time man in an
actually savage stage was not known to Europeans--even to travelers.
Marco Polo, indeed, had told of the existence in the East of races who
devoured human flesh, but he was not believed. It was the voyage of
Columbus that revealed the practice to be a literal fact and gave it
such impressive emphasis that the Indian name Carib or Caribbee, in
the modified form of cannibal, came to be used to designate the savage
who feeds on human flesh. The smaller islands of the Antilles were all
occupied by branches of this parent stock, the Carib, all of whom were
distinguished by savage ferocity. The name was given them by a rival
race, the Arawaks, who under various designations lived in the four
larger islands, Cuba, Jamaica, Hayti, and Puerto Rico. Both peoples had
come from the opposite coast of South America, probably drifting to the
islands by the help of the equatorial current. On the mainland there
was constant warfare between the two, with distinct advantages on the
side of the Carib.

When Columbus reached the Antilles, the Arawaks in Cuba and in Hayti
were in process of extermination at the hands of the Caribs. The
work of subjugation commenced by the savage Carib was taken up by
the Spaniard; in a few years the Arawaks of the larger islands were
absolutely destroyed. The vigorous race in the smaller islands was
never dominated by the Spanish conquerors; even when Spanish domination
in the islands gave place to English and French rule, the Carib kept
up the contest for more than a century. But the long years of warfare
caused their numbers to dwindle away. As late as 1773 a military
expedition was ordered to be sent to the island of St. Vincent to
exterminate the Carib population, who refused to be reduced. But in
place of drastic measures it was resolved to deport them. They were
finally removed to the mainland of Honduras, where from this original
small group the increase has been so remarkable that to-day their
settlements extend from Belize to Cape Gracias a Dios.

Hayti, the island where the first city of European foundation in the
New World was established, may be taken as illustrating the point where
the island population had reached the most advanced standard of life.
It is true that in part of the island the Caribs had effected a landing
and were driving the less warlike Arawaks before them. But Hayti, when
the Spanish conquest began, was already an agricultural country. It
had no dense forests; there was an absence of larger game; the climate
was mild and equable, and there were broad open tracts of country well
adapted to cultivation. When the island was discovered, the population
was estimated to be above a million; a few years later, in 1508, when
under the cruel methods of the Spanish conquest the inhabitants must
have been very considerably reduced, there were still 60,000 males
left. The island was probably therefore more densely populated than
any part of the mainland. The natural food resources in the shape of
fish and small game could hardly support such a number. The growing of
maize was not unknown, but the evidence goes to prove that the natives
lived largely on the product of enormous manioc plantations. The root
of this plant was reduced to a pulp, the juice was pressed out, and
after being exposed to heat, the residue took the form of a meal that
could be turned into bread cakes. The preparation of a crop of manioc
was not difficult. The great savannah lands of the island, which were
covered with prairie grass, were burnt over; the soil was thrown up
with a pointed stick, hardened by fire, a few cuttings of the stem were
planted in, some slight weeding was done, and after twelve months,
without additional labor, there was ready a heavy crop of roots that
could be immediately converted into bread. According to Las Casas’
estimate the labor of twenty women working six hours a day for a month
was sufficient to provide bread enough to last three hundred persons
for two years. The ease with which the crop was grown is shown by the
naïve offer of a native chieftain to his Spanish masters to substitute
for the tribute of gold which his people had no way of providing, an
enormous field ready planted, which was to extend across the island
from Isabella in the north to Santo Domingo in the south. The bulk of
the natives including the males did not work at this primitive method
of tillage, nor did they share in the breadmaking, but apparently
their freedom from this kind of labor did not encourage other types of
industry. The only metal worked was gold, though the island contained
both copper and tin. For cutting they used stone implements, and for
fishing bone hooks. Owing to the mild climate little clothing was
necessary. The cotton plant was not artificially cultivated, both
cloths and hammocks being made out of the wild cotton. Little attention
was paid to housebuilding, though there were some large joint family
houses. There was no stone architecture, and even fortification in its
simplest form was not known.

For the purposes of warfare the island was divided into five
districts, each of which contributed several thousand warriors under
an independent chief, whose office was devolved upon him by hereditary
descent. The warlike equipment was inadequate, not equal to that used
by the aggressive Caribs, who had the training which comes from the
hunting of large game. The Arawaks were therefore completely at the
mercy of their savage assailants, unless they fought the Caribs with
overwhelming numbers on their side. When the Spaniards began the
conquest of the island the mild natives had, therefore, no chance of
withstanding even small numbers of Europeans.

As a further test of the stage of culture reached by these, the most
advanced of the islanders, we may take their religion, which proves
their affinity to the lowest peoples known. They practised a simple
form of fetichism combined with ancestor worship. There was a class of
wizards, both men and women, who were supposed to control the spirit
world. The multitude of spirits were embodied in the form of idols,
sometimes in human shape, made of various materials. There were also
idols consisting of the wooden figures of dead chiefs set up over
their places of burial. The most famous of this type of idol were the
images of the two first ancestors of mankind that were kept in the
cave from which they had emerged after the deluge. As worship to these
divinities, rude hymns were recited and manioc bread was used as a
sacrificial offering and afterwards distributed among the worshippers.

The backward condition of the islanders did not discourage the projects
of colonization which were inaugurated immediately on Columbus’ return
from his first voyage. In 1493 the new flotilla showed the expansion of
the hopes based on the discoverer’s success of the year before; there
were now seventeen ships carrying 1200 men: miners, artisans, farmers,
noblemen, all bent on the work of colonization. Twelve priests were
included in the party. The exploration of the interior of the island
was taken in hand by one of Columbus’ lieutenants, whose object was to
discover gold and to commence the systematic working of the mines.

It was nearly a year before the Admiral returned to Hayti. In the
meantime affairs in the nascent colony were in anything but a happy
condition. The colonists, dissatisfied probably because fortunes
were not coming quickly enough, were sending to the home government
petitions and complaints condemning Columbus’ administration. A royal
commissioner was soon sent out, whose personal inspection of the
island resulted in a most unfavorable report being despatched to the
Spanish sovereigns. Internal dissensions continued, due to quarrels
over questions of jurisdiction, but these difficulties were less
serious than the miseries occasioned by the oppression of the natives.
Though Las Casas describes them as “the most humble, patient, loving,
peaceful, and docile people, without contentions or tumults; neither
fractious nor quarrelsome, without hatred or desire for revenge, more
than any other people of the world,” the advent among them of colonists
and adventurers bent on introducing the advanced economic system of
Europe changed everything. A tribute was laid upon the whole population
of the island which required that each Indian above fourteen years of
age was to pay a little bell filled with gold every three months. In
all other provinces the natives were to pay an “arroba” of cotton.

It was soon found that these taxes could not be collected. Accordingly,
in 1496, a change was made; instead of gold and cotton, labor was
substituted. The Indians near the plantations were obliged to prepare
and work them. Such was the origin of the “repartimiento” system which,
applied to a population unused to regular toil, and administered by
harsh and unprincipled masters, transformed the larger Antilles into
virtual prison houses. The natives who resisted were treated as guilty
of rebellion and were sent to Spain to be sold as slaves. Oftentimes,
in order to escape this servitude, whole villages and even tribes would
take refuge in the forests. Regular raids were organized against those
who tried to evade the tribute; those who were captured were sent to
Spain. In 1498 the vessels of Columbus, fleet took home a consignment
of six hundred, one-third of whom were given to the masters of the
ships to cover the freight charges.

There were scruples on the part of the home government against
sanctioning such an arrangement, and on more than one occasion, in
applying his policy of “pacific penetration,” Columbus acted without
waiting for royal sanction. After the two years’ insurrection of
Roldon, the chief justice, had been brought to an end by mutual
agreement, Columbus, in order to institute an era of good feeling,
made a generous distribution of slaves and lands among Roldon’s
supporters. Each man was to receive a certain number of hillocks for
the purpose of manioc culture. The operation of tillage was placed in
the hands of an Indian chieftain whose people were obliged to dwell
on the land they cultivated. Those of the former rebels who chose to
return home received from one to three slaves apiece. Fifteen took
advantage of this last offer; but they soon found themselves confronted
by a royal proclamation which directed that all holders of slaves given
them by Columbus should return them to Hayti under pain of death. An
unfortunate exception was, however, made in the case of Indians who had
been taken as rebels.

Further indications of the attempt of the home government to curb the
economic exploitation of the island introduced by Columbus are seen in
the instructions given to Nicolas de Ovando, who succeeded Bobadilla as
royal governor in April, 1502. He was directed to convert the Indians,
not to maltreat them, nor to reduce them to slavery; to require them
to work the gold mines, but to pay for their work; to refuse to allow
Jews or Moors to have access to the island; to accept blacks as slaves.
The idle and the dissolute were to be returned to Spain, and all mining
concessions made by the previous governor were to be revoked. Ovando’s
rule was to extend over all of the West Indies, with his residence on
Hispaniola (Hayti).

The expedition conveying the new chief was of imposing size; there
were thirty ships and 2500 persons. On board was the famous Las Casas,
afterwards the apostle and champion of the Indians, who came now to
make his fortune in the New World like so many other adventurers. The
attraction of the reported mines of gold was irresistible, and it can
be imagined how great was the joy of the Spaniards when the first news
they heard in the colony was the report of the finding of a huge nugget
of gold thirty-five pounds in weight. This treasure was dug up by an
Indian girl not far from the settlement of San Domingo.

Equally reassuring as a foundation for the prosperity of the colony was
a second piece of news which recounted how, in a part of the island,
there had been an uprising of the natives which had been successfully
punished, and in which the victors had reaped the reward of turning
the captured rebels into slaves. It was well known that the feeling
in the home country was becoming distinctly unfavorable to a colonial
polity practised so ruthlessly on the natives. The Spanish sovereigns
had declared themselves to be the protectors of the Indians, and had
ordered them both to be treated mildly by the civil authorities and
to be prepared for Christianity by the representatives of the Church.
They were to be civilized, and taught the Spanish language and habits
of industry. No arms should be sold to them, nor strong drink; there
was to be cultivation of the soil, but it was not to be done under
duress. The Indian lands could be bought or sold, and the natives were
to be encouraged to adopt autonomous municipal institutions under the
direction of the priests. They were also to have the right of appearing
in court to act as witnesses or to institute suits. As to the mines,
they were permitted to work in them, but were not to be forced. Even
tribal customs were allowed to be continued, where they were not
contrary to the ethical obligations of a higher type of civilization.

It was an almost idyllic scheme for assuming the white man’s burden,
but it remained a paper reformation; as the testimony of Las Casas
shows. For some time before his ordination this untiring advocate of
the rights of the natives lived in Hispaniola the life of the ordinary
Spanish colonist. He acquired slaves; worked them in the mines, and
devoted himself with such assiduity to the control of the estates
previously acquired in the colony by his father that he declares they
turned in to him a yearly income of 100,000 castellanes, an enormous
sum, considering the purchasing power of money at the beginning of the
sixteenth century.

The gold fever caused terrible havoc among the colonists; they were
not used to manual labor, they knew nothing of the methods of mining,
they were poorly supplied with tools for the work. Often they rushed
to the mines without taking with them an adequate supply of food.
The tropical climate soon brought on a strange disease, probably
pernicious malaria. Under its ravages, in a short period, 2500 of
Ovando’s men met their deaths not long after they came to the colony.
The conditions of life were hard, even food being scarce in the
neighborhood of the mines, and, when the royal tax of one-fifth was
deducted from the small proceeds after the expenses were paid, the
colonist’s share was barely sufficient to cover his living expenses.
The few who were contented with agricultural pursuits were really
better off in every way, but in the mania for gold discovery no thought
was given to the magnificent resources of the soil.

Las Casas notes that the worst effects of this colonial policy began in
the year 1504, when Queen Isabella’s death became known. Ovando’s short
and easy methods with the natives are described with great vividness
by Las Casas, who took part in the warfare against one of the native
chieftains. It was, of course, a conflict in which the weaker race
could play their part only through ruse and stratagem, for, as Las
Casas says, “all their wars are little more than games with little
sticks such as children play in our countries.” Nor were the natives
well qualified even for this sort of hostilities, since they were “most
humble, most patient, most peaceful and calm, without strife or tumult;
not wrangling nor querulous, as free from hate and desire for revenge
as any in the world.” Even Columbus, in the hearing of Las Casas, bore
witness to their humane qualities. He said that he met with such gentle
and agreeable reception and such help and guidance when the ship in
which he sailed was lost there, that in his own country and from his
own father better treatment would not have been possible.

The escape of the natives to the mountains and their efforts to
retaliate started, according to Las Casas, the war of extermination.
When the governor Ovando arrived in the part of the island which
was ruled over by a woman chieftain, Anacaona, more than 300 chiefs
were brought together and assured of the pacific intentions of the
Europeans. “He lured the principal ones by fraud into a straw house,
and, setting fire to it, he burnt them alive; all the others,
together with numberless people, were put to the sword and lance; and
to do honor to the lady Anacaona, they hanged her.” Death by fire,
administered with the most exquisitely devised tortures, was the fate
of the Indian chieftains. “I once saw,” he continues, “that they had
four or five of the chief lords stretched on the gridiron to burn them,
and I think also there were two or three pairs of gridirons where they
were burning others.” The fugitives were hunted down by boar-hounds who
were taught and trained to tear an Indian to pieces as soon as they saw
him.

Although Cuba had been discovered by Columbus, no attempt was made to
occupy the island until 1511, when his son Diego, acting under the
powers conferred upon him by the home government, selected Velasquez,
one of the oldest and most respected colonists in Hispaniola, to
take charge of the enterprise. With only three hundred men he easily
occupied the island. Like the Indians of Hispaniola they were not able
to organize any effective resistance. There was a repetition of the
atrocities by which Hispaniola had been pacified. By 1521 the miserable
natives were so brought under control that they were turned into the
unwilling and inefficient instruments of the colonial policy of their
new masters.

Las Casas was present at the close of this expedition, and he speaks
of frequent burnings and hangings of the inhabitants. Many committed
suicide to escape the enforced working in the mines. The following item
in his indictment deserves to be reproduced: “There was,” he says, “an
officer of the king in this island to whose share 300 Indians fell,
and by the end of three months he had, through labor in the mines,
caused the deaths of 270; so that he had only 30 left, which was the
tenth part. The authorities afterwards gave him as many again, and
again he killed them; and they continued to give and he to kill.... In
three or four months, I being present, more than 7000 children died of
hunger, their fathers and mothers having been taken to the mines.” The
concentration of the conquerors on economic success may be gathered
from the experience of Las Casas himself, who, though he had done all
in his power to restrain the commission of cruel deeds, wherever he was
present, did not hesitate to take advantage, priest though he was, of
the “repartimiento” system, under which he received a valuable piece of
land and a number of Indians to work it, in recognition of the services
he had rendered in conciliating the natives.

Columbus, it must be remembered, received an authorization to deport
from Spain criminals under sentence of either partial or perpetual
banishment. Other delinquents had had their sentences remitted provided
they agreed to go to the Indies. The result among such a motley crowd,
released from the ordinary pressure of social obligations, was a laxity
and dissoluteness such as was seen in the nineteenth century among
frontier communities. Even Columbus spoke with no admiration of the
colonists. “I know,” he said, “that numbers of men have gone to the
Indies who did not deserve water from God or man.”

Despite the fact that the exploration and subjugation of the larger
Antilles went on with feverish energy, Puerto Rico and Jamaica both
being taken in 1509, the profits of the colonial system were most
disappointing. The expeditions were costly, there was no economy in
organization; at home and abroad, there were a host of officials who
had to receive salaries. The gold mines were poor in quality. The
native population, by war and disease, had been so much diminished
that labor became scarce. The smaller islands were then drawn upon to
keep up the supply of labor in Hispaniola, and as the death-rate still
continued excessively high, the place of the natives was filled by
negroes imported from the Portuguese colonies in Africa. Some negroes
were taken to Hispaniola as early as 1505. In 1517 the African slave
traffic was authorized by Charles V.

A more intelligent side of the colonial system was seen in the aim
of the government to acclimatize in America European plants, trees,
and domestic animals. From the time of the second voyage of Columbus
there had been detailed government orders, according to which each
ship that carried colonists should also be provided with specimens of
such seeds as might be useful. Though there were very few domesticated
animals in America, it was soon found that the European varieties would
flourish there. Las Casas often speaks of the astonishment caused
among the natives by their first sight of the horse. This animal soon
became an economic necessity, and in many places herds of wild horses
in unoccupied regions proved how fast the original stock multiplied
in the newly discovered countries. Cattle also soon became one of the
chief articles of internal trade between the colonies, and hides were
one of the staple goods carried on the fleets engaged in West Indian
trade. Sheep and European poultry also were introduced with great
success. As to plants, the vine was not encouraged because the mother
country produced more wine than was needed for home consumption, and
it was an article that could be transported easily to the colonists.
The introduction of the sugar-cane was a social benefaction, for it
set the settlers free from the burden of gold mining under unfavorable
conditions. The sugar industry was developed rapidly after the
introduction of negro labor.

With the prevailing ideas of state control of industry, colonial
autonomy was out of the question. The need of a central body with
supreme powers was suggested from the first by the dissensions caused
by the conflict of jurisdiction between the various officials, whose
spheres of action were not carefully distinguished. In 1509 the king
decided to establish at Hispaniola a supreme tribunal which could hear
appeals from the decisions of the governor. From this body grew the
committee called the Real Audiencia, or royal court of claims, which,
after 1521, governed most of the West Indies. The function of this
body was to look after the welfare of the natives, to watch over the
executive acts of the governor and other functionaries, and to put a
stop to abuses. An appeal from the committee lay to the Council of the
Indies in Spain. This body was given final jurisdiction in all civil,
military, ecclesiastical, and commercial affairs. With the consent of
the king it named the viceroys, the presidents of the Audiencia, and
the governors, and it had full control of the higher ecclesiastical
patronage.

There was also the Indian Chamber of Commerce, the so-called Casa de
Contratacion, which was intrusted with the supervision of the West
Indian trade. This body saw to the provision of ships, received all
goods, and had jurisdiction of all commercial questions between the
colonies and the home country. Through the “Casa” passed all the
enormous mineral wealth that came from the opening up of the mines on
the continent of America. In 1515, owing to the representations made
in Spain by Las Casas of the grievances of the native population,
Cardinal Ximenes sent three friars of the order of St. Jerome with
full authority to act on behalf of the Indians. Las Casas was
appointed protector. When the commission was under discussion, he
asked specifically for unconditional liberty for the natives and for
the suppression of the serf system in all its forms and provisions,
in order to enable the European proprietors to work their estates
profitably. These humanitarian efforts had little effect in arresting
the prevailing methods of exploitation. When the pearl coast near
Trinidad in the northeastern region of South America attracted
settlers, there was a fresh demand for enforced labor of a new type,
and the native tribes were raided in order to secure supplies of pearl
divers. Although through the voyages of explorers various widely
separated points on the mainland had been touched, no place had been
effectively occupied by settlement. Wherever efforts were made,
the native population, the Caribs, were found to have such warlike
qualities that no successful foothold could be secured. The climate
also proved fatal to Europeans. After Balboa made his celebrated
passage across the Isthmus, an expedition of 15 ships and 2000 men came
to occupy the land, but 600 of these died in a few months.

No point yet visited by European adventurers had offered examples of
native civilization higher than the primitive standards attained by
the Carib and the Arawak. But in the interior, in the thick forests
of Central America, were scattered about the relics of an ancient
culture. In a triangular space including some of northern Yucatan,
Mitla in Oaxaca, and Copan in Honduras, there are the remains of sixty
communities distinguished by temples, tombs, statues, bas reliefs,
fragments of buildings, and deserted palaces. These are relics of a
race who at the discovery of America had lost their supremacy for many
generations. According to some reckonings, at least as early as the
twelfth century these celebrated dead cities were founded.

The difficulty of historical research in reconstructing the records of
these aboriginal peoples is due partly to poor methods of transmission
and also to the fact that so many of the original documents were
lost at the time of the Spanish conquest and before. Chronological
reckonings were kept for the purpose of marking the days on which
tributes and sacrifices were due. To this were added the figures of
chieftains, the notices of tribal conquests, and such events as floods,
famines, and eclipses. All of this miscellaneous popular lore was
embodied in paintings, executed by a large class of artists, some of
whom were women, on paper or fiber rolls or on prepared skins. For
this picture-writing skins, oblong in shape and of great length, were
employed. Along with these “pinturas” there was handed down an oral
method of interpretation. Our knowledge of Mexican history has to be
derived from the surviving examples of these picture rolls and from the
traditional explanations which were taken down in writing at the time
of the entrance of the Spaniards into the country.

The tradition existing in Mexico at this period told how the primitive
stock inhabiting the land were giants, many of whom had perished by
flood, fire, and earthquake. Then came a body of men who wished to
reach the sun, and for this purpose they reared a tower. The sun,
angered at the presumption of the earth-dwellers in aspiring to
share with the gods the dwellings in the heavens, summoned all of
the supernatural powers; the building was destroyed; and the guilty
mortals were scattered over the earth. A mythical legislator then
appears in Central America who teaches the people, the offspring of
the giants, the arts of civilized life. The basis of this folklore
may not unreasonably be ascribed to the finding of the bones of large
extinct animals and, on the site of the Central American ruined
cities, of mammoth statues of human beings. The residuum of truth
seems to be that the Mexicans of the Conquest were correct in their
common tradition that their ancestors had come from the north, and
that the country had been gradually occupied by successive swarms of
invaders who came south while they were still dependent on hunting
game for their food and were finally reduced to settled forms of life
by the cultivation of maize. The various tribes who took part in this
migration are called by the Mexican word “Nahuatlaca,” used to denote
those communities who were dependent on agriculture and followed a
nahua or rule of life dictated by a custom administered by hereditary
chiefs. At the beginning of the sixteenth century the Nahuatlaca had
reached the present limits of Costa Rica. That there were aboriginal
inhabitants is inferred from the mention of the Otomi, the Huaxtecs,
the Totonacs, and the Ulmecs, who at the time of the Conquest occupied
districts not overrun by the Nahuatlacan immigration.

In the first stage of the southward movement the Toltecs take the
lead; it is stated that, being expelled from their own country, they
came from the region of the north by both land and sea. Their chief
center in their new land was Tollan, a pueblo which stands on a
tributary of the Moctezuma River, a stream which falls into the Gulf
of Mexico. This place seems to have been once a center of trade, for
the Toltecs had the reputation of being clever craftsmen. In addition
to knowledge of preparing skins and of manufacturing clothing and
articles of domestic use, they must have become familiar with various
metals and with the employment of stone for building. Colored stones
and crystals were used in their decorative work; from the coasts were
brought the colored shells with which they covered their buildings, and
the feathers which were woven into their tapestry. Besides this, they
had a reputation for the knowledge of medicinal plants. The ruins of
Tollan are extensive; as described by those who saw some of the still
extant buildings at the time of the Conquest, they must have been most
impressive. Sahogun mentions especially the Chalchiauhapan (On the blue
water) because it was built between the two forks of the river. There
were richly decorated apartments, four being more magnificent than the
rest. One was called the House of Gold, another the House of Green
Jade and Turquoise; a third room was covered with colored sea-shells
arranged as mosaics, the interstices being filled with silver; the
last room was decorated in red stones, combined with colored shells.
There were besides four rooms adorned with tapestry made of the plumage
of different colored birds. As with Selinus, a famous Greek city in
Sicily, the downfall of Tollan must have been sudden, for there was an
unfinished building seen in the ruins with remarkable pillars in the
form of rattlesnakes, and also a mound in process of construction to be
used as a foundation of a building of unusually large size. This fate
seems to have overtaken it some centuries before the Spanish conquest,
and was probably due to an insurrection among the subordinate pueblos.

The name Toltec came to be used as a synonym for a builder in stone or
a worker of metals, and it was due to the influence of this race that
the other branches of the Nahuatlaca stock made their progress in the
civilizing arts. Not only do they stand out among other peoples of the
New World as prominent in the pursuit of useful arts and in artistic
achievement, but they deserve a place of honor because the deity they
worshipped, Suetzalcohuatl, was not propiatiated by sacrifices of
blood, but by offerings of maize, perfumes, and flowers. Probably many
of them migrated to the regions of Central America, where they were
able to preserve their own traditions. Here can be seen better than
in the neighborhood of their ancient capital the specimens of their
artistic skill. Some of the Toltecs of the dispersion took refuge at
Cholula, which at the time of the Conquest was the chief seat of Toltec
arts and religion, and also the center of the slave trade. Not far off
is the town of Tlaxcallan.

The dissolution of the Toltec control was followed by a long period
marked by successive waves of migration. Some of these nomadic tribes
who described themselves as Chichimecs of the sun (Teo Chichimecs)
established themselves in the strong places of the mountains, and took
possession of Tlaxcallan, making it their center. In time this pueblo
and its neighbors became of great importance, emigrants spreading from
it over parts of Yucatan and Central America. Even at the time of the
Spanish conquest the territory which Tlaxcallan dominated, although it
was only forty miles in its greatest length and considerably narrower
in breadth, mustered 50,000 warriors.

The spread of the Nahuatlaca race by their various emigrating swarms
brought them over all parts of the Mexican plateau, and also to the
coast both of the Atlantic and Pacific, but the center of their rule
lay in the narrow Valley of Mexico, probably once the crater of an
immense volcano surrounded by a girdle of mountains. There were fifty
pueblos in the valley placed on or near the four lakes which, by
changes in the distribution of land and water, had taken the place of
the one large body of water that had once filled the extinct crater.
Before the coming of the Nahuatlaca the district was occupied by the
Otomis, whose language is still spoken in the neighborhood of Mexico
City.

When the migration took place, Tezcuco, situated on the northeastern
shore of the lake, became a dominant pueblo, and was at the head
of a considerable confederacy. On the western side of the lake was
another group of pueblos known as the Tecpanecs, who were rivals of
Tezcuco. Here there settled about the year 1200 a vagrant tribe of the
Chichimecs; the new arrivals were named by the Tecpanecs crane people
or Aztecs, probably from their habit of wading in the marshy shores of
the lake while engaged in fishing. The newcomers proved industrious,
and in the course of time reclaimed the marshy island, building on the
land two towns, the villages of Tenochtitlan (place of a prickly pear)
and Tlatelolco (place of a hill). According to Aztec folklore, when
they took possession of the island, they found on it a prickly pear
tree growing on a rock and on this rock they saw an eagle devouring a
snake. This fable is still recalled in the present arms of the republic
of Mexico.

The two Aztec pueblos on the lake remained distinct communities until
1473, a fact which suggests their being built on separate islands,
according to the traditional account. By help of the Aztecs, who were
skilled in the art of war, the Tecpanec confederacy made great advances
in dominating the valley. There was a little contest with Tezcuco when
the confederates demanded from its people the usual tribute of cotton
cloth; Tezcuco was taken and handed over to the Aztecs as a reward for
their valuable services. The growing importance of the island pueblos
soon, however, aroused the jealousy of the Tecpanecs and they resolved
to suppress the two island communities by transferring the inhabitants
to the shores of the lake. In the war which followed, though many of
the people of the islands were at first reluctant to try conclusions
with their powerful neighbors, the counsels of their warlike leader,
Ischohuatl, prevailed. Azcapozalco, the center of the Tecpanec
confederacy was captured, and with this conquest, which took place in
or about the year 1428, Tenochtitlan or Mexico became the dominant
power in the valley.

The island pueblos showed a statesmanlike policy in dealing with
their neighbors; Tezcuco was restored to something like an autonomous
position, and in the group of pueblos in the valley, of which the
island communities were now the head, an equitable distribution of the
tribute formerly collected by the Tecpanecs was made. Tezcuco also,
and Tlacopan, a Tecpanec pueblo, were given a specific district over
which to preside, and were allowed to pursue untrammeled their own
line of conquest. To secure the dominant power of Mexico, causeways
were built in three directions to the shore, and with other works
constructed on two of the lakes, by which the straits between the
lakes of Tezcuco and Xochimilco were bridged, a strong fortified place
came into existence which was practically impregnable. The warlike and
aggressive traditions of Ischohuatl were so well maintained throughout
the ninety-two years between the formation of the confederacy and the
advent of the Spanish invaders that large tracts of country outside of
the valley were turned into tributary regions.

A considerable portion of this work of expansion was done by
Ischohuatl’s successor, his nephew Montezuma the First, who ruled over
Tenochtitlan for twenty-eight years (1436-1464). During his reign the
limits of Mexican rule were extended nearly to those formed by the
Spaniards, the area of conquest being decided largely by commercial
reasons. Wherever in the Pacific district there were honey, cacao,
tangerines, precious stones, copal gums, cinnabar, and gold, that
region was marked out for absorption. These Pacific regions extended
800 miles in length and, because of the value of their products, were
the most important of all the Mexican dominion. On the side of the
Gulf of Mexico the eastern part of the present state of Vera Cruz
was rendered tributary; from this district the most prized object of
exportation was the quetzalli feathers used for standards and for
warriors’ plumes. There was trade from Mexico with the Caribs on the
Gulf, for Columbus met, in 1502, a Carib vessel having a cargo of
cotton cloaks, tunics, skirts, Mexican swords, stone knives, bronze
hatchets and bells, pans for smelting bronze, and cacao. From the time
of Montezuma I to the reign of the second of the name, the sovereignty
was held by three brothers in succession. During this period there was
a revolt of the sister community of Tlatelolco, the suppression of
which brought to an end the long existing equality in the confederation
headed by this pueblo. Apart from this the boundaries of the tributary
area do not seem to have been enlarged.

Altogether there are found in the roll of tributary pueblos 358 names
when Montezuma II was dominant chief (1502-1520). These were small
industrial settlements in all of which a particular kind of tribute was
prepared; some sent cotton cloths, others raw cotton, others timber
for fuel or building; from others came weapons, deerskins, tobacco.
The tributes were generally paid annually in prescribed quantities.
Under this system the great bulk of the population, the Nahuatlacan
peasantry, were condemned to a life of severest toil of all kinds
done in behalf of the warrior and priestly classes. The warriors,
too, every twenty days, had to take the field, partly as a military
exercise, partly also to provide the human sacrifices that, according
to their old elaborate Mexican ritual, had to be offered to the
gods. The priests took charge of the prisoners, prepared them for the
sacrifices, divided the flesh of the victims, and arranged their skulls
in the precincts of the temple, this being the method of keeping a
regular toll of the offerings. There were more commonplace tasks of the
priestly order, the Teopixqui, that must have filled up the intervals
between the frequent great sacrificial festivals. In each teopan, or
temple dedicated to a divinity, the sacred fire was kept ever burning;
besides, there was the regular offering of incense, four times a day,
at sunrise, noon, sunset, and midnight. To keep up this sequence of
devotion and also the prescribed immolations, at stated intervals the
heavens were scrutinized with official vigilance day and night. At
midnight all those attached to the teopan were aroused for the solemn
offering of blood that took place in a penitential chamber, each
worshiper supplying his share of blood by tearing his own body with a
strap of aloe thorns.

In their religious system the Aztecs, like the other members of the
Nahua stock, had reached, in a technical sense, a highly differentiated
standard. They had long left behind that stage of the lowest savage
life where there is no recognition even of spirits, those substantial
and active beings who are made responsible for the changes in the
material world that the savage cannot otherwise explain. When the
spirit is supposed to be composed, not of flesh and blood, but of some
ethereal matter the era of civilization begins. According to savage
belief the spirits are made in the image of a man, consisting of flesh
and blood like man, and also requiring, like him, nourishment of food
and drink. This principle took the widest extension in the Nahuatlacan
worship; with the development of tribal life and the organization of
confederacies there went hand in hand the regular provision of meat
and drink offerings organized on a very large scale to secure the
benevolence of the divinities. Various familiar forms of fetich worship
were employed. Probably before the fashioning of idols by the hand
of man natural objects such as plants, trees, mountains, and animals
were worshipped; for example, in Mexico there was a national annual
sacrifice to the mountains. In the frequent human sacrifices the victim
was slain with a stone knife, on a stone slab, while the neck and
limbs were kept in place by a collar and fetters made of stone. From
the maize plant developed some of the most important deities in the
Mexican religion. There was a long midsummer festival of eight days
devoted to this vegetable, one of the prime necessities of life, at
which one victim, a slave girl, was offered to the spirit dwelling in
the maize. At the end of the eighteenth century the idol before which
the sacrificial ceremony was performed was discovered in one of the
squares in Mexico, recalling the procession in which it was carried,
bound round with skulls, dead snakes, maize leaves, and ears. The toad,
as the offspring of water and the symbol of the water spirit, was an
object of veneration. The rabbit, as an animal considered totally
devoid of sense, was worshipped as a drink god, to whom offerings were
made that the worshipper might escape the deleterious effects of an
over indulgence in pulque. Like other people in the primitive stage of
culture the Mexicans venerated rivers and lakes as manifestations of
will.

The common practice of worship of the dead prevailed also in Mexico,
where its existence is attested by the preservation of the skull,
or by the blocks of stone surmounted by enormous human heads which
invariably denote the distinguished dead, because the gods are always
represented with all their limbs. There was also a large heavenly
hierarchy, gods of the atmosphere and stellar powers, some being
associated with particular mountains, but the most important of all
was Tezcatlipoca the giver and sustainer of life, the symbol of the
wind, the bestower of life and death. Next to him came the sun god,
Huitzilopochtli. He being a living person was, as appeared from the
natural phenomena seen in the succession of the seasons and the change
from day to night, especially in need of food. His vitality frequently
shows signs of failing. It is therefore especially incumbent upon
man to help him in this struggle for existence. So necessary was the
maintenance of this principle of religious faith that the sun always
received a share of the human victims offered to the other divinities.
But all sorts of vegetable and animal life were offered to this needy
divinity, who seemed to the Mexicans to show such constant signs of an
impaired vitality. In the pictures of the Aztecs the rays of the sun,
significantly represented as long crimson tongues licking up blood,
constantly appear. The order of society was so regulated as to keep
the sun in full vigorous condition; hence the never ending slaughter
of human victims supplied by incessant warfare with neighboring
tribes to provide the food supply for the sun. If there had been
large animals in Mexico, these ghastly immolations of human victims
might not have stained the progress of the Aztec people, for it is an
established principle that the search for food is closely related to
the development of religion among primitive races.

As the people of Nahuatlaca stock advanced economically and
politically, they applied the results of their experience to their
primitive tribal religion. Along with the system of tributes which
maintained the dominant pueblo, there were expeditions made for
securing the tribute to the sun god, called in the language of
religious imagery “the plucking of flowers.” As the service of the god
was connected with military expeditions, Huitzilopochtli was the Aztec
god of war, the tutelar divinity of the warrior class. Twice a year in
Mexico there were special rites in the building called the Abode of
the Eagles, where the warriors assembled to send a messenger to their
patron. In the principal court of the building there was a colossal
symbol of the sun, in the shape of a solar wheel sending forth rays of
gold. Before it was a great stone at the top of forty steps, called the
cap of the eagles; the middle of the altar was hollowed out to receive
the victim’s blood, and here the poor captive was brought dressed in
the colors of the sun. He carried a staff, a shield, and a bundle of
coloring matter, the purpose of which seems to have been to enable the
sun to decorate his face. Just before the immolation the victim was
addressed in the following words: “Sir, we pray you go to our god, the
sun, and greet him on our behalf; tell him that his sons and warriors
and chiefs, those who remain here, pray for him to remember them and
to favor them from that place where he is, and to receive this small
offering which we send him. Give him this staff to help him on his
journey and this shield for his defense, and all the rest you have in
this bundle.” Those who fell on the field of battle were believed, as a
reward, to be transported into the house of the sun, where they became
his servants and shared in his constant banquets.

With the eclecticism common to all religions and that specially marks
its primitive type, an ancient god of the Toltecs, Quetzalcohuatl, also
a solar deity, was adopted as a member of the Aztec divine hierarchy.
According to tradition, this divine being left his abode in heaven for
the purpose of showing beneficence to mankind. From him man learnt the
arts of life, and while he was on earth the age of gold prevailed.
Unlike the other deities, his character was mild and kindly, for he
was described as being averse to war and sacrifice. Constantly crossed
in his purposes by wizards, he floated away on a raft. There was a
general belief that he would return and restore the reign of peace, an
anticipation which was popular among the tribes who felt the burden of
the Aztec domination. Each year, with an inconsistency not foreign to
higher forms of religion, human sacrifices were offered under the guise
of messengers sent to inform the benign Quetzalcohuatl of the need of a
speedy deliverance.

As might have been expected, exaggerated estimates are given by the
early authorities of the number of human beings slaughtered in the
course of the year; but, in any case, it must have been great, for in
the small and poor region of Tlaxcallan from one pueblo 405 captives
were sacrificed at the chief feast of the local deity. Naturally, in
the dominant pueblo the proportions of the human victims offered to the
gods must have far exceeded these limits.

Closely connected with the Aztec religion was the development of an
ingenious, if imperfect method of reckoning time. It was apparently
evolved independently, for in the Old World there was nothing like
it. The basis of time reckoning was the period of twenty days, and
each day of this division had a proper sign or name. The periodic
expeditions against neighboring hostile tribes were controlled by this
division, as were also the holding of markets and the arrangement of
tributes. There were eighteen of these divisions, which regulated the
various festivals of the religious year. For secular purposes the
360 day year was corrected by adding to it a period of five days, a
fractional part of the twenty-day period. On these supplementary five
days all public ceremonies ceased. The chronological system consisted
of a combination of great cycles, each of fifty-two years’ duration.
And each great cycle was divided into four smaller cycles of thirteen
years.

The economic and political basis of Aztec life was the pueblo, or
tribal community, in which frequently each clan of the tribe had a
localized quarter, each provided with the temple of the particular
deity recognized by the clan as its protector. Through the wars
of conquest with weaker pueblos there had grown up a rudimentary
feudalism, according to which the distinguished warriors were
established in the subject pueblos as proprietors of the best lands
in them. The possession of these lands could descend to the sons or
might be alienated for the benefit of a distinguished chieftain. The
food supply of the country so controlled was regular, hence there was
no need of a nomadic life. Wealth was increasing, and the population
growing. Habits of industry were encouraged, with the result that the
principle of the division of labor to a certain extent existed. Some
forms of craftsmanship, too, were cultivated, specialized in particular
communities; for example, Cholula was famous for its potters, while
the art of the goldsmith was practised at Azcapozalco. Clothing was
manufactured, the houses and buildings were decorated internally,
and there was an elaborate cuisine. Montezuma’s meal is described as
consisting of thirty sorts of stews. He used chafing-dishes to keep
them warm, and he also drank chocolate and ate fruit as a second course.

There was a system of customary law administered by qualified
officials, and, for controlling the conduct of the people, there
existed an extremely elaborate rule of life which implied discipline
and the recognition of social duties and family obligations. The
Aztecs had standards of value, but no coined money and no standards of
measurement, nor anything like an alphabet or even a syllabary. In the
“pinturas,” however, there were a few purely phonetic symbols.

The darker side of Aztec rule is seen in the enforced human labor
exacted to supply the tributes in kind, and in the revolting system
of organized cannibalism, the outgrowth of their elaborate ritual.
Some of the neighboring tribes successfully resisted both these types
of oppression, while those who were too weak to do so depended on the
mysteriously predicted deliverance from their yoke. In any case, the
way for a rapid conquest had been well prepared.




II THE CAREER OF CORTEZ


In 1517 the governor of Cuba, Diego Velasquez, began to send some of
his subordinates to explore the coast of Yucatan. One of them brought
back ornaments and vessels of gold and also information as to the
extent and importance of the great native power in the interior of the
land. An expedition was then put in charge of Hernando Cortez, who for
eight years had been an adventurer in the New World. The new leader was
a native of Medellin in Estremadura, where he had been born in 1485.
He had received a good education, graduating as bachelor of laws, but,
after leading an irregular life at home, he had sailed for the West
Indies, where he had spent eight years, first in Hispaniola, then in
Cuba. Like other adventurers, he had taken part in Indian warfare and
had been a planter. Powerful interests worked against his appointment;
accordingly, when he left Cuba he was informed that Velasquez intended
to supersede him in the command. His fleet carried 110 sailors, 553
Spanish soldiers, 200 Indians, some artillery, and a valuable asset
for the conquest, sixteen horses.

[Illustration: HERNAN CORTES.

From a Drawing Taken from Life]

On the 12th of March, Cortez’ squadron arrived at Potonchan, having
previously stopped at Cozumel to pick up Geronimo de Aguilar, who had
taken part in an earlier and unsuccessful expedition to the coast of
the continent. He had become a member of a native pueblo, had married
an Indian, and was especially useful because of his knowledge of the
Indian tongue. At Potonchan the inhabitants brought out provisions
in boats, but were not disposed to receive the newcomers in their
village; indeed, they asked them to accept the food,--bread, fruit, and
birds,--and take themselves off. Cortez arranged an ambush near the
pueblo and, according to the agreement, two hundred men under Alvarado
and Avila rushed upon the settlement when the natives came out a second
time to bring provisions. In the meantime the Spaniards on the ships
disembarked under the fire of their artillery. There was some sharp
fighting, and by the time the pueblo was taken most of the inhabitants
had fled to the highlands nearby. The dead were not counted, but there
were many wounded and a few captives. Perhaps the actual fighting men
on the native side in this first engagement were not more than four
or five thousand. Plenty of food was found in the place, but no gold.
There was soon another battle, in which eight hundred or a thousand
Indians were killed. Apparently they fell into a panic when they
confronted cavalry for the first time; “they thought the man and beast
were one thing.”

Twenty-two days the expedition now halted, as the pueblo was well
supplied with provisions, and the enemy was active outside. Finally
the Indians, who were exposed to the prevailing bad weather and were
without food, sued for peace, making a rich present to Cortez. But this
was nothing, Diaz del Castillo naïvely says, in comparison with the
twenty women, who were distributed as booty to the Spanish captains;
one in particular was a prize--the celebrated Doña Marina, who spoke
the language of the Aztecs, and also, because she had been a slave
on the coast, knew the languages of Yucatan and Tabasco. As Aguilar
understood Tabasco there was made possible, through Marina, direct
communication with the people of the country. “It was a great beginning
for our conquest,” says the worthy Diaz.

When Cortez received the natives’ peace offering, he was careful to
inquire where they had acquired the gold and jewels. They replied by
directing him to the setting sun, and mentioned the words Culchua and
Mexico. This was a sufficient indication, and on the 18th of April,
Cortez left Potonchan and in three days arrived at San Juan de Ulua.
Here the emissaries of Montezuma, who from the accounts he had received
through his messengers, was convinced that the Europeans were none
other than the famous divine being Quetzalcohuatl and his companions
returning by sea after a visit to the sun, greeted Cortez with
extraordinary honors.

There was abundance of food,--chicken, maize, bread, and
cherries,--drinks of very good cocoa, and, more welcome still,
many pieces of gold, some well worked, and a large quantity of the
feathered drapery and jewels. Cortez represented himself as the
friendly ambassador of Charles V, sent on a special mission of peaceful
curiosity. His chief interest was concentrated on the gold, however,
for he particularly inquired of the Aztec Teuhtlilli who spoke for
Montezuma whether his master had gold. When he answered in the
affirmative, Cortez bluntly said, “Send me some of it.” In return for
the generous welcome given them the Spaniards amused themselves, in the
days following their disembarkation at San Juan, by showing the natives
their arms and bloodhounds and explaining how they meant to use them in
their passage through the country.

The news of the manners of the mysterious strangers threw Montezuma
into a panic; he was more convinced than ever when he heard of the
rapacity and cruelty of the Spaniards that Cortez was nothing less than
Quetzalcohuatl, the description given being admirably suited to one
of the principal divinities of the Aztec theology. To the king’s mind
the sole remedy lay in incantations; he summoned therefore the most
experienced experts to devise powerful enchantments to keep the whites
from approaching the Aztec capital. The charms were inefficacious. At
his wits’ end, the Aztec overlord sent peaceful directions to all his
dependents.

After the disembarkation at San Juan de Ulua the adventurers did not
pass their time in idle dreams; they found abundance of occupation
in collecting gold and precious stones, giving the natives in return
objects of small value. Fresh embassies presented themselves to Cortez,
not only with the usual presents, but giving useful information. Among
them was a representative of Ixtlilxochitl, the lord of Texcoco, who
spoke of the tyranny of Montezuma, who had killed his brother. He
welcomed the Spaniards as allies who would help him to avenge the
murder. Cortez saw in this an opportunity to encourage dissension among
the natives, by taking advantage of which he could make himself master
of both factions, and so control the country. He desired to found a
settlement at the place at which they had first touched land. There was
a division among his followers on this point; some of them regarding
his purpose of making himself the captain general of the new colony as
an act of disloyalty to Velasquez, the governor of Cuba. He met the
situation by putting the most obstinate of his opponents in chains, and
finally all the members of the expedition were won over by the generous
promises he made, although there was complaint at his proposal to take
for himself one-fifth of all the gold that might be gathered from the
natives.

The colony Cortez succeeded in establishing received the name of Vera
Cruz, because they had reached the spot on Holy Saturday; the words
Villa Rica were added to mark the fertility of the surrounding country.
Visits were made to neighboring pueblos with profitable results.
At Cempoala twenty of the leading men, accompanied by their chief,
presented themselves; there were the usual valuable offerings, and
Cortez took care to promise his aid in defending and helping his new
acquaintances. The chief complained of the oppression of Montezuma,
explaining that his people had only lately been conquered and had
been deprived of much treasure. They were obliged to carry out his
orders, he said, because the Aztec was the lord of great cities, lands,
vassals, and armies of warriors. Before leaving the pueblo, Cortez
spoke of his philanthropic mission as the representative of the Emperor
Charles V, promising that after he had returned to his fleet he would
see that their grievances were remedied.

The impression made by the benevolent stranger was so great that
at Cempoala 400 natives were offered by the chief of the pueblo as
pack-carriers--men of great endurance, the chronicler says, who could
carry fifty pounds weight five leagues. This was a great relief to the
Spaniards, who had hitherto been obliged to transport the valuables
they collected from the villages through which they passed on their
own shoulders in small sacks. Other pueblos were treated to the same
successful diplomacy.

The more Cortez heard of the country, the more he was convinced that
the real objective of the expedition must be Montezuma and his capital.
The presents received by the adventurers and the tales they heard
showed that their journey must, if their hopes were to be realized,
have its termination in Mexico. When the second installment of presents
came from the Aztec capital, the astute commander remarked to some
of his men nearby, in admiration of the valuable articles so freely
placed in his hands, that the Aztec overlord must be great and rich.
“If God wills,” he said, “some day we shall have to go and see him.”
This pious aspiration fell on no unwilling ears, and the opportune
moment came sooner than even the most sanguine adventurer could have
hoped, for Cortez soon succeeded in forming an alliance with thirty
pueblos, contiguous to his own settlement, all of them ready to follow
him as their leader in an expedition which was to free them from the
burdensome yoke of Aztec despotism. The fighting force now available
must have been considerable, for we know that one pueblo, Quiahuistlan,
half a league distant from Vera Cruz, offered to supply 5000 men.

In the meantime, a ship had arrived from Cuba with seventy Europeans
and nine horses. The expedition had now been three months in Mexico,
and the demand to push on to Montezuma’s city was general. Cortez
sent home an account of his experiences, in which he drew up a formal
accusation against the Cuban governor, Velasquez, fortifying his own
claims by a rich present in excess of the value of the royal fifth, the
statutory portion. “It is the first we have sent,” the commander said
to his comrades in excusing and explaining a generosity that had to
be collected from their hoards. This act of loyalty was an additional
stimulus to the adventurers, who saw in their march to the interior an
easy method of recuperating their losses. When the commissioners were
about to leave for Spain, some of Cortez’ men proposed to accompany
them. Cortez arrested them immediately. Two were put to death; one, a
pilot, was deprived of his feet, and the common seamen received each
two hundred lashes. Father Diaz would have been punished, too, had not
Cortez respected his habit. One of the victims who was executed was
Pedro Excudero, who had made charges against Cortez in Cuba before the
expedition sailed.

To prevent the recurrence of such attempts at desertion and also to add
to his men the crews of the vessels, Cortez resolved to destroy the
fleet in the harbor, with the exception of one small boat which was
to carry the commissioners back to Spain. The proposal was arranged
not to come from the commander himself, because, if he had taken the
initiative, he might have been obliged to pay off the seamen out of his
own pocket. So, as Herrera, one of the adventurers, says, “if anyone
asked him to pay the money, he could retort that the advice was ours,
and that we were all involved in settling up the accounts.”

Cortez knew that he would meet with no mercy at Velasquez’ hands;
his only chance, therefore, was to remain in Mexico, and that the
destruction of the fleet rendered certain. The daring plan was carried
out secretly at night by the master of one of the ships, an intimate
friend of the commander. The crews had been removed beforehand, and the
explanation made by Cortez’ envoy in Spain, Montejo, was that the ships
were old and on the point of foundering before they were scuttled.
This plausible statement was not more convincing than the rest of the
envoy’s argument, and the Royal Senate of the Indies condemned Cortez’
conduct as “contrary to righteousness and justice.” He had acted also
contrary to the commands of the governor of Cuba, who, in the meantime,
as the case was being discussed by the home authorities, asked that
capital sentence be passed. Cortez’ view finally prevailed because of
the fortunate outcome of his march, and in 1522 Velasquez was directed
not to send to New Spain any people or armed forces.

After scuttling the ships Cortez returned to Cempoala to arrange for
the expedition. The chieftains of the pueblo advised that the route by
the way of Tlaxcala should be taken because the people of that place
were their friends and mortal enemies of the Aztecs. A start was made
on the 16th of August with 400 Spaniards, 15 horses, and 5 pieces of
artillery. In all the chronicles of the expedition there is a discreet
reserve as to the number of Indian allies. It seems to have been a
fixed policy to obscure this point. But the native contingent must have
been very large, for at each pueblo where the expedition sojourned one
hears of the acquisition of native warriors; at Ixtacamaxtitlan, a
small place, the chief gave 300 soldiers.

On reaching Tecoac in Tlaxcala the invaders found that the attitude
of the people was distinctly hostile; in a preliminary skirmish
thirty warriors preferred to die rather than yield. The inhabitants
of the pueblo were then cut to pieces, as they refused to retire or
surrender. This was on the last day of August; the next day there was
a hot battle, in which the Spaniards seem to have been saved by their
native allies from destruction. Diaz del Castillo says that Cortez
thanked them profusely, and adds that the Spaniards were panic-stricken
by the wild shouts of their opponents. There was soon after another
battle, where the escape of the Spaniards was due to the existence of
dissensions in the Indian camp; the people of the pueblo refused to
stand by one another. Much damage was done in the second ranks of their
warriors by the fire of the artillery, but fifty of the Spaniards
were wounded, and one was killed, together with all the horses. Cortez
estimated his enemies at 149,000, plainly an impossible figure.

Marauding expeditions were made against the defenseless pueblos, whose
fighting men were with the Tlaxcalan army. Women and children were put
to the edge of the sword without mercy, and the dwellings were burnt to
the ground. Fifty emissaries appeared on the 7th of September to ask
for peace, bringing with them presents of food and plumage ornaments.
Some were suspected of treachery, and all fifty, by Cortez’ orders,
had their hands cut off. The same day the Spanish camp was attacked by
10,000 men, warriors of the greatest valor, but even this danger was
repelled because the plan was known beforehand. The situation of the
Spaniards was almost desperate, for they had lost a hundred and fifty
of their number, and the survivors were worn out by anxiety and by
the constant physical fatigue. There was depression in the camp, some
proposing return to Vera Cruz, where the natives were friendly and
where help could be had from Cuba. But the commander’s spirit did not
falter. He sent three of his leading captives to Tlaxcala to ask for a
peaceful passage through their country to Mexico. After deliberation
the proposal was granted, although there was opposition, especially on
the part of the young chief Xicotencatl, who declared that in another
night attack he could take the camp and slay all the Spaniards. The
peace party carried the day, and Cortez entered the pueblo on the 23d
of September, receiving a royal welcome from the inhabitants, who gave
him valuable assistance and an enduring loyalty.

After a month’s stay Cortez set out again with 5000 of these new
allies, “men much experienced in warfare,” as he himself allows. In
the neighborhood of Cholula he sent the inhabitants word, on receiving
their envoys, that they must become vassals of the Spanish crown,
saying if no reply were received within three days, he would attack
and destroy them. This menace had its effect, and great hospitality
was shown to the Spaniards and their allies. The streets and roofs
were crowded with people as the army entered the town, and they were
lodged in several large halls. The drain on the stores of the natives
was so great that on the third day they brought only water, rushes, and
wood. The scantiness of these offerings was to Cortez a demonstration
that the townspeople were disaffected and were plotting against their
guests. He issued an order therefore that all the chief men of the
place should assemble in the court of the temple of Quetzalcohuatl.
Suspecting no harm, they obeyed. To strike terror into the natives,
Cortez planned to murder the principal men and the priests; but there
were a great many other warriors of the pueblo in the inclosure so
crowded together they could not move. At the entrance were stationed
the Spaniards, who, at a given signal, rushed on the unarmed mass.
Some were mowed down; some burnt themselves alive, while others cast
themselves down from the temple pyramid, the raised platform on which
the altar was placed. In two hours, according to Cortez, 3000 met their
death. The massacre was continued in the streets for five hours; none
were spared until the pueblo was deserted. The carnage continued the
next day, gladly shared in by the Tlaxcalans, who had come in to take
their part of the pillage. It was the commander’s intention to demolish
the place altogether, and the cruel work took two days more.

A fresh start was made on November 1st. The pueblos subsequently
visited by the expedition were terrorized by the massacre at Cholula,
and there was no stint of offerings. Cortez, too, being now in a
better temper because of the jewels, gold, and precious stones so
easily collected, did not forget to explain that he had come to save
the new vassals of the Spanish Crown from robbery and oppression. In
each pueblo he won the inhabitants over by his dexterous diplomacy and
pleasing manners, and they readily became his allies. No opposition
was encountered during the rest of the journey to Mexico. Meanwhile
the news of the massacre at Cholula had completely unnerved Montezuma;
“he humbled himself like a reed”; there was no thought of resistance.
He sent one of his chief men to impersonate him, as he was afraid to
meet Cortez himself. The deceit was soon discovered by the Indian
allies, and the substitute for royalty returned in confusion, leaving
rich presents behind. Montezuma consulted his magical experts again,
but the auspices and enchantments were no more favorable than before.
He now saw only death for all his people and for himself; with a fixed
fatalism he was convinced there was no escape. Tradition told him that
the people from the land of the rising sun were invincible.

It was the eighth day of November when the Spaniards reached the
capital of the Aztecs. The army must have been imposing in its size,
and perhaps Montezuma’s religious scruples may have been reinforced by
others of a different character when he saw the number of his enemies
and revolted subjects who followed Cortez. Father Sahagun, a most
reliable authority, who visited Mexico in 1529, says that “hardly had
the rear guard moved from Ixtapalapan when the vanguard was already
entering Mexico.” The welcome was in harmony with the respect caused by
the size of the expedition and by the superstitious fears of the Aztec
overlord. A thousand of the principal men came out to greet Cortez
a half-league from the town. A quarter of a league from the palace
Montezuma presented himself with ceremonious pomp, accompanied by the
lords of the greater pueblos. He was supported by Cacomer, king of
Texcoco, and Cuitlahuatzin, king of Ixtapalapan, each holding him by an
arm on either side. All three were dressed alike, except that Montezuma
was shod. When Cortez dismounted to embrace him the two accompanying
lords forcibly prevented him from touching their master. Flowers were
offered according to the Aztec custom; likewise gold and precious
stones.

After reassuring the Aztec ruler of his amicable intentions, Cortez
went with his suite to lodgings assigned in the treasury of one of the
temples, a residence selected because of their character as divine
beings. Montezuma spoke to Cortez of the prophecy of the return of
Quetzalcohuatl, expressed his willingness to become the vassal of the
great lord of the land of the rising sun; and repelled the charges made
against him by the people of Tlaxcala and Cempoala. He made, too, a
special point of denying the stories of having houses with golden walls
and of being served with gold furnishings and vessels. “The houses,”
he said, “which you see are stone and chalk and earth; it is true
that I have some things of gold left me by my ancestors; all that I
have do you take whenever you want it.” The offer was made effective
immediately. Cortez had received already many different jewels, much
gold and silver and feathers, and five or six thousand pieces of cotton
goods, very rich and in divers manners woven and worked. After the
interview rich presents of gold were made to the commander, as well as
to the captains and to each of the soldiers.

The Spaniards kept watchful guard in spite of the sumptuous welcome;
the soldiers were restless and desired to sack the town. Their attitude
did not escape the attention of the natives, who began to suspect their
motives in remaining in the city. Food commenced to give out, and the
horses suffered and also the dogs. In a short time the men did not
scruple to sack some of the dwellings near Montezuma’s palace; they
showed also little respect for the native women, many of whom had shut
themselves up in terror at threatened maltreatment.

It was a well-known and settled policy on the part of the Spaniards in
their conquests in the Antilles to seize the native chiefs in order to
reduce the members of the tribe to submission. This is made clear in a
letter from several Dominican friars, written home as early as 1516,
when the practice is noticed. In mentioning it, they explain that the
Indians are a people who love their lords much and are very loyal to
them. This strategy was now employed with complete success by Cortez.
He determined to force Montezuma to take up his residence in the
Spanish quarters by use of fair words, then to threaten him immediately
with death if he tried to escape from captivity. As an excuse for
putting this daring program into execution, Cortez, who entered the
palace accompanied by his captains, after the usual friendly welcome,
charged Montezuma with responsibility for the death of two Spaniards
at Nautlan. Cuauhpopoca, the local chief, it seems, had caused them to
be executed because of their offenses and excesses. Some time passed
in discussing the charge which the Aztec monarch, of course, denied.
Cortez’ comrades wished to hasten proceedings by killing the Aztec at
once. Finally Montezuma, completely terrorized, agreed to accompany
Cortez, and also followed his direction that he should tell his people
that the step was taken voluntarily at the advice of his priests.

The chief of Nautlan, his son, and fifteen of the principal men of the
pueblo were summoned to the capital by Montezuma. Cortez ordered them
to be burnt; at the same time directions were given that all the arms
in the city should be collected. Fifteen cartloads in all were to be
burnt with the prisoners. Before the execution they confessed that they
had acted by order of Montezuma. Cortez put his prisoner in chains, and
this outrage was allowed to pass unavenged, for the Aztec lords feared
that their ruler would be slain. The timorous monarch told his subjects
that what he was enduring in the Spanish quarters had divine sanction.
Having the king in his possession, Cortez made detailed inquiry as to
the location of gold and silver mines. Much gold was collected, and,
whenever there was resistance to the orders from the capital, the
chiefs who refused to give up their possessions were treated as rebels
to their overlord, and either killed on the spot or imprisoned after
being summoned to the capital by orders issued through Montezuma.

Cortez was delighted at the willing compliance of the king in playing
the rôle of a puppet in his hands, and he wondered because “great lord
as he was, that being a prisoner as he was, he was so much obeyed.”
On his own initiative, Montezuma addressed his chieftains, telling
them that the Spaniards were sent by Quetzalcohuatl, and begging them
to be obedient to Cortez in every respect, urging them to accept
their position of vassalage to Spain. This was the signal for another
great collecting expedition among the Aztec feudatories, the chief
contributor being Montezuma himself. The chronicler’s powers of
description are exhausted in enumerating the wealth that poured into
the hands of the eager adventurers. There was no scruple in taking what
was left after the regular tribute of vassalage had been paid.

The commander, however, was very unwilling to proceed to the
distribution, and when he could resist his soldiers’ demands no
longer, it was found that the greater part of the three and a half
million dollars’ worth of metal had been retained by the leader and
the captains. He met their complaints by telling them that they all
would be very prosperous and rich, because they would be the masters
of rich cities and mines. As a more practical argument, he went among
the soldiers giving them secretly gold ornaments, and making individual
promises of reward.

Meanwhile the rapacity of the adventurers and their open display of
their wealth did not bring so much odium upon them as their forcible
efforts to convert the natives. A Christian chapel was placed in the
chief temple, an action which seems to have contributed to destroy the
illusion among the people that there existed some relation between
the newcomers and their god Quetzalcohuatl. The undisguised enmity
soon came to a head in plans for a revolt that included a general
massacre of the Europeans. When information of the plot was conveyed
to Montezuma, who seemed worried at the fate of his strange guests and
advised their leaving the city, Cortez spoke of the destruction of his
ships and told the king that, when ships were prepared, the latter must
go with them to see their emperor. Workmen were sent to Villa Rica to
prepare the vessels, but it was probably with no serious intent beyond
the purpose of deceiving the prisoners.

This was the state of affairs after five months’ residence in Mexico,
when news came that Spanish ships were off the coast, 16 vessels,
large and small, 1400 soldiers, 80 horses, and 20 pieces of artillery.
When the envoys landed, they summoned the captain of Vera Cruz to
accept as superior officer Narvaez, who had been sent by Velasquez
to take possession of the country. The four Spanish envoys were
hurried off as prisoners under an escort of natives who, by forced
marches night and day, reached Mexico in four days. Cortez, with
characteristic diplomacy, excused the rude behavior of his lieutenant.
Indeed, adequate reparation was made, not only by smooth speeches,
of which Cortez was past-master, but by the more telling arguments
of gold strips and ornaments. They, in turn, told all they knew of
the expedition of Narvaez, and regained the coast, won over by the
munificence and the amicable manners of the commander.

No time was lost in heading off Narvaez’ expedition from entrance into
the interior. Cortez took most of his men and probably a large force of
the native allies sufficient to block Narvaez’ march to the capital.
Only 130 Spaniards were left in Mexico under the command of Alvarado.
While Narvaez was sojourning at Cempoala despoiling the neighborhood of
the few valuables that remained there after Cortez’ march, one of the
ecclesiastics from Cortez’ army was sent to visit the rival camp. He
showed much dexterity in winning over important men-at-arms, especially
those of the artillery, by a judicious distribution of gifts, though
outwardly he made loud profession of devotion to Narvaez. The work of
this skilled emissary was made the easier because Narvaez kept all the
spoil he collected for himself; the contrast was not left unnoticed by
the men whom the commander had won.

When the work of undermining Narvaez’ men had been completed, the
Friar Olmedo found it easy to break off negotiations and return to
his own camp. There was now little difficulty in settling the affairs
between the two captains without bloodshed; Narvaez’ men were ready
to abandon him. Cortez, as he explains in a letter to Charles V,
after drawing near to Cempoala with his army, entered Narvaez’ camp
with a few followers by night and, before he was observed, took his
rival prisoner. There was only a little fighting; two were killed by
artillery fire in preventing those who wished to rescue Narvaez from
entering a tower where he had his quarters. This strategy seemed to
Cortez the best way “to avoid a scandal,” but less satisfactory to his
men was the division of booty found in the camp. Cortez gave it all
to Narvaez’ men. “They were many and we were few,” Diaz del Castillo
regretfully explains; “Cortez feared that they might kill him and his
small band of men-at-arms.”

With the advent of this new army of marauders in the country there
appeared a plague of smallpox, a disease hitherto unknown. It made
frightful ravages, and its effects were compared by the Indians to
those of leprosy. No mention is made of the epidemic by Cortez; he was
too alarmed at the news which came from Mexico to heed the sufferings
of the native population, who were dying like cattle. While he had
been so successful on the coast, his garrison in the capital had
been attacked; their quarters had been partly burned and undermined,
and Cortez was afraid that all the treasure would be lost, his men
massacred, and the city sacrificed. No word had come from Montezuma; it
seemed that the worst must have happened.

The difficult situation in which Alvarado was placed was due to his own
brutality. Before Cortez had left the city, he had given permission
that the festival of the god Toxcatl should be celebrated with the
accustomed ceremonies. Alvarado added as further conditions that they
should bear no arms nor offer human sacrifices. This festal occasion
lent itself readily to a repetition of the butchery of Cholula, and
some authorities go so far as to think that Cortez had given secret
commands for the massacre before he set off for the coast. While the
chiefs, warriors, and other leading men, more than 1000 in number,
were solemnly dancing in honor of their god in the court of the
temple, unarmed and covered with gold ornaments and jewels and singing
as they moved about, half the men of the Spanish garrison entered
and ranged themselves around the wall, after closing the entrances
to the courtyard. The Indians, thinking they had come in as curious
spectators, made no break in the ordinary ritual; suddenly the dancers
and the spectators were set upon, and the patio of the temple was soon
filled with dismembered heads, arms, and legs. The court was soon
nothing but a human shambles. Some tried to escape by climbing over the
side walls or by rushing up the temple steps; others feigned to be
dead; only a few saved themselves.

The massacre lasted an hour, and, carefully planned as it must have
been, no hitch occurred during its progress. The people outside finally
got news of what was happening and, picking up their weapons, they made
savage attacks on the Spaniards, forcing them back to their quarters.
Alvarado himself was wounded on the head. Finding refuge, the Spaniards
barricaded themselves as well as they could, and the Indians turned to
bury their dead, an operation which took many days on account of the
elaborate ceremonial required by the dignity of those who had perished.
After the funeral ceremonies, the Mexicans returned impetuously to the
attack on the Spanish quarters.

It would have gone hard with Cortez’ men if Montezuma had not
interfered in their behalf. Speaking from the roof of the building
where he was kept a prisoner, he gave orders to the Aztec warriors
to stop the fight. Cortez had heard of the massacre from both sides,
as Montezuma had sent to him envoys to complain of Alvarado’s wanton
slaughter in the temple. He promised to do justice when he arrived,
and also spoke, as a proof of his peaceful temper, of the small force
he was bringing back with him. As a matter of fact, when he re-entered
the city there were over 1000 Europeans and many allies with him; in
Tlaxcala alone he enlisted the services of 2000 men. No opposition was
made to this formidable force taking up their old quarters.

It was strange that Cortez, who was usually quick to punish any
contravention of his orders, took no account of the massacre. He omits
mentioning it in his letters to Charles V, and it is not surprising
that Friar Sahagun reports that Cortez approved of the crime and told
Alvarado he had done well. In the disturbed conditions in the city no
market was held, and the Spaniards were no longer provided with food.
Montezuma excused the omission because of his imprisonment. Threatening
words were spoken by Cortez, and from this time his prisoner ceased to
exert any influence to prevent the revolt against the invaders.

A messenger sent out to Vera Cruz returned to his comrades with the
news a half hour later that the whole city was up in arms. Even a group
of 200 Spaniards could make no headway through the streets. The Indians
faced the artillery in close array, and as fast as they were mowed
down, the gaps were filled up by others. They fought with a desperation
which caused wonderment even from men in Cortez’ army who had served
against the Turks. Constructions of wood were made to protect the
Spaniards from the showers of stones that poured down on them from
the housetops, while they tried to clear the streets covered with
barricades. But they could make no progress, and finally they withdrew
to their quarters, pursued by the Aztecs, who entered the palace in the
face of the desperate resistance of the Europeans. They threatened to
leave no Spaniard alive, yet they begged as suppliants for their lord
Montezuma to be given back to them.

Though there are conflicting details given of the Aztec attack on the
Spanish quarters, there is not much doubt but that Montezuma had been
killed on the morning of the 27th of August, the day the wooden engines
were first used. The monarch was no longer of any use now that he had
refused to keep the revolt in check. There are different accounts of
the murder, but there seems a fairly general agreement that Montezuma
was stabbed to death.

As there was no longer any hope of defending their quarters
successfully, Cortez tried to save himself and his men by a ruse. The
dead body of the Aztec ruler was taken up on the roof, covered with a
large shield so that the fact that it was a corpse could not be seen
clearly. Then one of the feudatories, the lord of Tlaclolco, addressed
the crowd and bade them, as if speaking in the presence of his master,
to give up the attack on the Spaniards, because, if they persisted, he
was afraid he would be killed. Little impression was made; injurious
words were spoken against the vacillating and effeminate ruler,
supposedly still alive before them. There was a volley of arrows, and
some say the body was struck by a stone. This is the basis of a story
circulated purposely by Cortez and others that the monarch had died
from the wounds received on the roof, where he had gone voluntarily to
speak to his people. It was a dangerous thing for Cortez to confess to
the murder, for Montezuma, be it remembered, had accepted the position
of a vassal of the Spanish crown. When the Aztecs showed no sign of
taking a peaceful attitude, Cortez himself tried the plan of addressing
them from the roof, but his diplomacy was of no avail. The only
conditions offered were withdrawal from Aztec territory; as long as he
stayed in the city, the Aztecs said, they would keep up the fight.

Further essays at street combats showed this to be no idle threat;
forty-six Spaniards were killed and persistent attempts were made to
pull down the walls of their quarters, while missiles of all kinds were
directed on the defenders day and night. In order to bring some relief
to this perilous position, Cortez sent one of the prisoners to announce
the death of Montezuma, and offered to give up the body, knowing that
the burial ceremonies would keep his enemies occupied for several
days. But the animosity of the people was not to be diverted from
their prey. Cortez was afraid that the one causeway, that to Tlacopan,
would be destroyed and the sole means of escape cut off. His men were
discouraged; indeed, those who had belonged to Narvaez’ expedition were
in a state of mutiny.

One of the Aztec priests and other leading men previously held as
prisoners were sent to ask permission for the Spaniards to leave on
condition that all the gold should be given up. Timbers were prepared
to place across the ditches near the causeway, and a plan of escape
was mapped out for the Europeans and their allies. The treasure was
carefully guarded by the allies, but before the night appointed for the
retreat all the Aztec prisoners were put to death. The soldiers also
found a large quantity of gold which they divided among themselves.
The exit from the city began just before midnight; there was a severe
thunderstorm which kept the Europeans from being observed until they
got past the first ditch; here they were seen by a native woman who was
drawing water there. She gave the alarm, and before the second ditch
was reached the Mexican warriors had gathered to annihilate their
enemies. There was immediately a panic, and those who were carrying the
gold were forced into the ditch. Diaz remarks laconically, “The gold
killed them and they died rich.”

The only Europeans saved were those who carried small amounts of gold.
On the mass of Indian allies drowning in the ditch the Spaniards threw
their loads; using this living embankment a few of them made their
way to safety. Everyone looked out for himself, and when Cortez was
reproached for deserting his men, he replied that it was a miracle
that anyone had crossed the causeway alive. It was some time before
Alvarado, with the miserable surviving rear-guard of seven soldiers,
all in a sad plight, reached the main body of the army at Tlacopan.
(August, 1520.)

As long as they were in Aztec territory, there was little chance of
escaping annihilation, for the disconsolate army after their night
journey were set upon by the warriors of the neighboring pueblos. Their
Tlaxcalan allies guided them along devious trails until they reached
Totoltepec, where the fugitives found some temporary security in a
temple, which they were glad to use as a fortress. Fortunately they
were not actually pursued by the main body of the Aztec fighting men,
who remained behind to collect the gold and jewels cast aside by the
Spaniards, and to spoil the dead. Besides, a number of Spaniards had
either by choice or by necessity remained in the city. According to one
authority not all of Cortez’ soldiers were acquainted with the plan
for the night journey; others preferred not to desert their treasures.
It is computed that 270 Europeans kept up the fight in the city and
then surrendered. During the rest of the retreat there were some sharp
skirmishes, and because of their fatigue and discouragement the army’s
power of resistance was soon exhausted. Thanks to their native allies,
however, they were brought finally to a place of safety in the friendly
pueblo of Tlaxcala. The losses had been terrible, nearly 1000 men had
perished, besides 4000 of the Tlaxcalans and other natives. At Tlaxcala
there was much mourning for the great calamity which had robbed the
place of its best warriors, but there was no hesitation in offering
Cortez their continued support in resuming the war against the Aztecs.

Cortez was careful to give instructions to his men to treat the
inhabitants with consideration and not to rob them of their property.
These orders did not cause so much dissatisfaction to the survivors as
Cortez’ high-handed procedure in appropriating for himself whatever he
could find of the gold that had been saved in the panic of the retreat.
Many of the Spaniards spoke of returning to the coast to sail back to
Cuba. Cortez’ iron will now stood him in good stead; he quieted his own
men, and arranged to start immediately a campaign against Mexico by the
help of the Tlaxcalans, promising as the price of their aid a part of
all the conquests he made and various privileges and exemptions from
tribute.

This offer proved an attractive one not only to the Tlaxcalans but
to other natives who saw a further chance of securing their freedom
from their Mexican overlords. Over 100,000 men were collected, either
by promises or by methods of terrorism; any pueblo that resisted
was sacked and the inhabitants massacred. Tepeacac, the center of
resistance, was taken; its men were put to death, and the women and
children set apart as slaves. As time went on, various individual
adventurers appeared off the coast, and by degrees the losses in
Europeans, in artillery, and in horses were made up. This good fortune
caused so much satisfaction to the veterans of Cortez’ army and their
commander that he resolved to undertake the seemingly hopeless task of
besieging Mexico itself. Additional re-enforcements and the necessary
war supplies were brought from Hispaniola, and in order to attack the
Aztec capital in its most vulnerable point brigantines were prepared on
the lake, since it was realized that it was impossible to force now an
entrance over the causeways.

By the end of December all was ready. The Europeans numbered not quite
700 men, while the native contingent is placed by some at 150,000. From
Tlaxcala, 10,000 were asked for, but many more volunteered. As the army
proceeded, they found no great difficulty in occupying the places on
their route. Some, like Texcoco, had been partially deserted by the
inhabitants, who had the forethought to remove their goods. In disgust
the Spaniards burnt the town and its palace where all the ancient
records in picture scrolls of the Aztec kingdom were preserved. The
ravages of the smallpox weakened the Aztec resistance, and among those
who died was the implacable enemy of the Spaniards, Cuitlahuac, the
brother of Montezuma, who had been chosen as his successor. His death
at the end of November was a loss hard to repair. Even Diaz speaks of
him as “a valiant man and very prudent.”

As their next chieftain they selected Cuauhtemoc, a cousin of
Montezuma, a young man who, during the period of the Spanish occupation
of Mexico, had distinguished himself by his active opposition to it.
He had taken a leading rôle in the revolt that had brought about the
evacuation of the capital, and he now set forward upon the work of
defense with great intelligence. Orders were sent to the dependent
pueblos to unite in repelling the European invasion, and the tribute
was remitted. Care was taken to collect treasures and arms, and
Mexico itself was placed in a state of defense by the construction of
intrenchments and ditches. Cuauhtemoc’s plan of campaign consisted in
concentrating all the available forces in the capital, yet offensive
tactics were skilfully applied. His hand was seen when the Spaniards
occupied Iztapalapa; here the inhabitants deserted the pueblo, and
while their enemies were peacefully enjoying the spoil and resting in
their quarters, the sluices were opened, and had not the natives of
Texcoco warned Cortez in time all would have been drowned.

Desultory warfare continued for a time on the shores of the lake,
Cortez’ policy being to exact vengeance for the hostility of the lake
pueblos during the retreat. Many were razed to the ground and burnt.
But strenuous operations did not begin until the brigantines were
finished. For their construction Cortez was indebted to the skill and
industry of the people of Tlaxcala, who at their own expense cut the
wood, and transported it over mountainous defiles by bad roads to their
own pueblo, where it was cut into shape for the vessels. Thence the
pieces were carried eighteen leagues overland to Texcoco on the lake,
where, fastened together, they were transformed into ships ready for
navigation.

Futile attempts were made by the Aztecs to set fire to this navy, for
they recognized the danger of an attack from the water, but there was
no thought of surrender. Untiringly, night and day, they prepared for
the siege, making new weapons to meet the attacks of cavalry, and
constructing barricades in the streets. The Spaniards also had to do
much preliminary work to enable the fleet to get into deep water; 8000
Indians were constantly employed in digging a channel from the shore
sufficient to accommodate the draught of the brigantines.

All was ready on the 28th of April, 1521. The brigantines were manned
with European troops and artillerymen; but as usual the mass of the
army was made of native auxiliaries, probably underestimated by Cortez
at 80,000 men. Altogether the Spanish nucleus numbered about 1100, half
of them lately come to join the veterans. Efforts were made to arrange
terms of peace, but the Aztecs refused to listen to Cortez’ complaints
of bad treatment and disloyal conduct on the part of his late hosts.

At every point of the advance to the city, Cortez encountered stubborn
enmity. There was fighting both on the lake and on the shore, that
showed the temper of the people. The brigantines were surrounded by
a flotilla of canoes as they proceeded on their way; but it was an
unequal combat because the frail canoes of the Aztecs were exposed to
the gunfire of the ships. Under the protection of the brigantines a
landing was effected on the causeway. Step by step, the defenders were
forced back towards the town; as long as they fought on the causeway
they were exposed to the raking volleys of the guns on the brigantines.

It was a long, tedious process to take the many barricades of the city,
and even when the principal street was reached the determined onslaught
of the Aztecs forced the Spaniards back to the causeway bridges. No
real ground was gained in these first skirmishes, although there was a
concerted plan between Cortez and his lieutenants that they should make
for the center of the city at the same time. While the siege was being
resisted with such desperation, the straits of the Aztecs induced the
neighboring pueblos to send out large contingents of men to break the
power that had so long kept them in bondage. Cortez notices especially
the support given him from Texcoco both in men and in provisions; they
kept on the lake 1000 canoes going and coming with supplies, and 32,000
warriors.

In order to starve the city out, the water supply had been cut off
before the siege began, and it was hoped that by guarding the causeways
no food could be brought in. Much skill was shown by the Aztecs in
overcoming these difficulties; they sent out many canoes by night, a
flotilla of specially large canoes filled with warriors who did not
hesitate to grapple with the brigantines. One they captured, and they
inflicted heavy losses on the equipment of others. The resourcefulness
of the defenders was worthy of the skilled campaigners of Europe; but
the problem of the food supply could not be solved by deeds of heroism,
and famine was more destructive than the weapons of their enemies. They
faced not only the actual distress from scarcity of supplies but also
the desertion of the city itself by large numbers of warriors who could
not be fed within the walls.

The methods of warfare on both sides were worthy of the combatants.
Whenever the Spaniards or their allies were taken prisoners, they were
treated as victims for sacrifice and offered up in the various temples
of the gods with ordinary ceremonial rites. The Spaniards, whenever
they entered the streets, burnt and destroyed everything within reach,
temples and houses. The rage of the Aztecs at the destruction of all
they held dear showed itself in their furious attacks on their enemies
as they drew back at nightfall to their camp outside.

There was no thought of coming to terms, although the losses were heavy
and the besieging force under Cortez alone was more than 100,000 men,
and his flotilla of canoes was 3000. The chief aim of the Spanish
ruler was to take the market-place, and plans for a general assault
were arranged, now that the blockade of the city was strictly kept.
From this center it was hoped all the streets could be cleared. The
large number of allies who each time the town was assaulted swarmed
over the roofs of the houses and made light of all other obstructions,
seemed to promise a speedy termination of the struggle. But before,
in the general attack the inclosure of the town was reached, the
Aztecs in canoes and on the various land approaches, which had now
been partially destroyed, made an unexpected sally. There was a call
to arms sounded from the apex of one of the principal temples, the
ritual drum being beaten whose tones could be heard at a distance of
two or three leagues. Instantly, as the Indians came rushing upon them,
the Spaniards were thrown in a panic, and made a precipitate retreat.
Cortez was himself in danger and would have been killed, had not his
enemies made strenuous efforts to take him alive in order that he might
be kept for a sacrificial offering. None of the other captains fared
better; Alvarado’s men narrowly escaped destruction.

Many European prisoners were made, and from their camp the Spaniards
could watch their comrades being offered up to the sanguinary deities
of the Aztec religion. They were pierced with stone knives and their
palpitating hearts were drawn out as they lay recumbent on the stone
altars that capped the temple pyramids. At the same time the men in the
camp had to listen to the threats of their foes who, close at hand,
promised them the same fate as their comrades. There was no inclination
at this point on the part of Cortez and his men to resume the fight;
orders were given to restrict operations to the defense of the camp.
But the temper of the native allies was not affected by the defeat. The
Tlaxcalans especially took the lead in harassing their enemies, while
the Spaniards kept to their quarters. They also suggested a plan by
which the remaining supplies of food and drink might be cut off.

This gradual process of attrition had its natural effect on the powers
of resistance of the Aztecs. Cuauhtemoc was forced to cover up the
losses in his army by disguising the women in the city as warriors.
Standing on the flat roofs of the houses they were easily taken to be
male warriors, and at closer quarters the Spaniards found them to be
as brave as the men. Cortez, indeed, tried to induce his opponents to
see how desperate their case was. His offers of peace were rejected;
when envoys were sent it was always a signal for renewed attacks on the
three Spanish camps.

After consultation with his captains Cuauhtemoc resolved to die
fighting with his people rather than let them become the slaves of
the Spaniards. The chief food of the inhabitants now was the green
vegetation growing on the lake shallows, and they drank the saline
water from the same source because fresh water was no longer to be had.
Numerous must have been the victims of hunger and thirst and pestilence
in the Aztec quarters, and great were the losses in the continued
combats with an enemy far stronger, whose own losses were being made
up by uninterrupted accessions of strength, while there was the whole
countryside open from which supplies kept pouring in. It is significant
that the success of the Aztecs in blocking the general assault of their
capital made no impression outside. So far as we know, no attempts were
made to break the Spanish investing lines, nor, on the other hand, did
the failure to take the town in any way stop the movement to throw off
the Aztec yoke which was plainly the prime motive on the part of the
natives in helping the Europeans to take Mexico.

The siege had now lasted forty-five days; it was time, therefore, to
make a radical change in the primitive methods of attack hitherto
followed by Cortez, methods that recall the Homeric accounts of the
siege of Troy. Each day there was hot fighting in the streets or on
the lake where the Aztec canoes gathered about the brigantines. At
nightfall there was a general return to the camp. The new plan was to
destroy all the houses in the portion of the streets where the daily
fighting took place. As the horsemen charged, the space was cleared
and the work of destruction began. On the exposed part by the lake
the brigantines and the canoes of the allies were able to do much
effective damage. The scale of the operations is indicated in one of
Cortez’ letters, where he speaks of using in this kind of fighting
150,000 warriors. Under these conditions, where each day ground for
the next stage of occupation of the town was secured, the great
market-place was taken.

Finally the Aztecs were confined to an eighth part of their capital;
there was no bread to be had; nothing but fetid water to drink; and a
diminishing supply of defensive weapons. Cortez himself reports that
the Aztecs stood on the housetops, covering themselves with their
cloaks but without weapons. The streets and the houses were filled with
dead bodies. On the 13th of August the signal for the final attack was
given. Crowded together, without arrows or even stones and sticks to
defend themselves, the Aztecs were mowed down by the Spanish gunfire.
It was a disappointment to Cortez to have to use such extreme measures;
largely, it appears from his own words, because there would be no spoil
to be taken. Most of the houses had been destroyed, and the people
threw their wealth into the lake before they perished.

The sufferings of the besieged made an impression even on the hardened
feelings of the Spanish commander. The last fights in the city and on
the lake took place amid scenes of horror; everywhere were dead bodies;
on the lake they were heaped up around the combatants, and could be
seen floating about as the canoes kept up the unequal conflict with the
Spanish brigantines. Diaz reports that all the houses were filled with
dead Indians; there was nothing green to be found; the inhabitants had
even eaten the bark off the trees.

The end came when the cannon, at Cortez’ signal, began to fire on the
mass of unarmed Mexicans, too weak to move, stretched out one upon the
other, dying heroically, still even in their extremity, as Cortez says,
“never asking for peace.” As the artillery seemed slow in carrying on
the work of destruction, the brigantines with the European soldiers and
the allies were brought up and ordered to fall upon the remnant of the
Aztec warriors, who were either slain on the spot or cast into the
water from their last place of refuge.

Cuauhtemoc fled from the city in a large war-canoe, and the Spaniards
gave chase. When overtaken he first prepared to sell his life dearly,
but seeing his wife and other women in the boat, rather than expose
them to risk he gave himself up and was conducted to Cortez, who spoke
in a friendly way and praised his valiant defense of his capital,
promising at the same time that he should be allowed to rule his people
as he had done before. The capture of the Aztec chieftain took place on
the 13th of August, 1521, the day that Mexico fell into the hands of
the Spaniards.

The losses of the Aztecs in the final battle are set down as 40,000;
many chose to die by throwing themselves and their wives and children
into the lake rather than surrender. At the close of the siege there
followed scenes of pillage of the usual type, with no pretense at
discipline. The actual treasure seized was small, and to increase the
disappointment, no trace could be found of the lost gold and silver
which had been abandoned during “the mournful night” of the previous
year. The supposed explanation was that it had been carefully hidden.
Accordingly, Cuauhtemoc and others of high rank with him who, like
himself, were captives, were tortured by fire. But no revelations were
made, and the amount of gold distributed to the soldiers was small,
only five pesos to a horseman and less to a foot-soldier. The native
allies were paid off even more cheaply; they departed for home taking
with them promises of future land grants.

Cortez’ plans for reconstructing the city were put into operation
immediately after the end of the siege. All the temples and great
houses that survived during the street fights were removed. In order
to make the conversion of the people to Christianity easier, the
records of their past were obliterated. In a few years all traces of
the complex Aztec society, with its divisions into nobles and priests
and warriors, were lost. But at least the native population in Mexico
did not meet the fate of those in the isles of the Antilles: the stock
was a hardier one and the systematic working of the mines did not
begin until twenty-five years after the conquest, when, owing to the
propaganda of Las Casas, protective measures were enforced. Cortez
introduced European grains and took care to repair the losses in the
food supply produced by the devastation of the conquest.

Incapable of reconciling himself to the humdrum life of peaceful rule
after his years of adventure, the commander could not endure to see his
lieutenants penetrating into the unknown regions of the south, while
he stayed behind receiving their reports of immeasurable treasure. In
October, 1524, he set out for Honduras with a few Europeans and a large
number of Indian allies. Among his companions were Cuauhtemoc, the
dethroned Aztec overlord, and many of his nobles and chieftains. The
march was through difficult country filled with dense woods, mountains,
and morasses. The expedition suffered from the heat, and had to endure
lack of water and food as well as perils from enteric fever. Cuauhtemoc
and the Aztec lord of Tlacopan were charged with plotting against their
new masters and were, therefore, put to death. Nothing was accomplished
in this expedition, and after twenty months Cortez returned to Mexico.
Soon after he was recalled to Spain to answer various charges due to
his maladministration and to his uncontrolled dictatorship. He was
treated with great honor and named captain-general of New Spain, but
care was taken that he should no longer be intrusted with the duty of
civil administration in the new province. He returned to Mexico in 1530
and again tried his fortune as a discoverer, this time undertaking,
either personally or by lieutenants, expeditions to the northwest. Two
fleets equipped by him were destroyed; a third was led by him into the
unpromising region about the Gulf of California. In 1540, he again
left Mexico to secure an indemnity from Charles V for his unsuccessful
ventures. He followed the Emperor to the siege of Algiers in 1541, but
was not able to secure attention to his demands. The rest of his life
was passed in preparing petitions to a monarch whose treasury was being
drained by other more immediate claims. He did not return to Mexico,
and died on December 2, 1547, at the age of sixty-three years.




III THE INCAS


It is the custom to associate, when the spheres of Spanish conquest
are in question, the Aztecs of Mexico and the Incas of Peru. The
parallel is only roughly accurate, for, although the Incas had made
a great record in material advancement by the time they came into
contact with the Spaniards, the level reached by them was considerably
lower than that attained by their neighbors to the north. Their method
of reckoning was far more primitive; they used picture painting for
ornament; there was no commerce, no division of labor, no standard of
value. On the other hand there was no such cannibalism as that found
consecrated to the religious usages of the Nahuatlaca.

Among the Incas there was a vast peasant class who had been brought
into subjection by the conquering race who entered Peru from the
south. Apparently the first home of these invaders was the high land
of Bolivia, in a small canton, Cuzco, situated on the natural highway
that leads from the Bolivian highlands to the upper tributaries of the
Amazon. The origins of Inca history can hardly go back further than
three hundred years before the Spanish conquest. When the Spaniards
came, consistent traditions were still preserved of the origin of the
dominant tribe that told how, when Cuzco was first settled by them, it
was already occupied by aboriginal inhabitants whose district was taken
possession of by Manco Ccapac, the founder of the Inca rule. From the
time of the first occupation eleven sovereign chiefs had borne sway
over them for a period which may be justly estimated as three hundred
years.

There were no chronological records, but there was curiously unique
evidence in the shape of the mummified bodies of the eleven
chieftains, who were given the same attention as lords and landowners
that they enjoyed when alive. Their estates, herds of llamas, serfs
were still treated as belonging to them; food and drink were daily
placed before them; new clothing was prepared, and they were carried
out for daily exercise in richly ornamented litters.

The rise of Inca domination had not been without serious opposition;
there was a powerful coalition formed against them when their
aggression became a menace to the neighboring tribes. The Inca
chieftains were killed, and the situation was saved only by the
appointment of a new leader, Huiracocha, who saw that more was to be
won by conciliation than by aggression. This chieftain was one of the
four to whom the consolidation of the Inca dominions was due. Under
a later Inca chieftain Pachacutic (1435-1471), “the changer of the
world,” the pueblo of Cuzco dominated the whole of central Peru, and a
district 300 miles in length towards the northwest. To the southeast it
had a sphere of influence over a district of about equal extent, which
was converted into definite subjection by Pachacutic and his allies.

The next stage of conquest was towards the north, where no special
obstacles were encountered. The population was sparse, and in a low
condition. Here an Inca colony was founded, which, with its capital
at Quito, still survives under the form of the republic of Ecuador.
From this vantage ground in their northern colony the Incas seem to
have been brought into direct connection with the sea coast, for,
owing to the long overland journey between Cuzco and their northern
possessions, the water route was easier, and owing to the penetration
of the land by the gulf of Guayaquil would easily suggest itself to
those who as residents of the interior were not familiar before with
journeyings by water. The advance into the coast valleys met with stout
resistance on the part of a powerful confederacy which had Chimu as
its center. The place was of strategical value to the Incas because it
commanded important roads leading from the coast plain to the sierras,
and was also accessible to the newly acquired northern colony and its
hereditary domains.

Because of the successive steps by which the power of the Incas was
so rapidly extended, the name of Pachacutic was associated with the
whole of the administration of the Inca state as a lawgiver, architect,
engineer, economist, and chief priest. His successor Tupac-Yuparqui
followed in his father’s steps by enlarging the state’s borders both
on the south and north. Resistance was cruelly repressed, as one sees
from the narrative of his war on the coast valley of Huarco, where
the Inca’s warriors, brought together for three years in a permanent
camp, wore out the natives by constant harryings, until they agreed to
capitulate on the condition of being incorporated with the Inca nation.
Tupac had no scruples in violating the compact by a general massacre of
the vanquished. Even at the conquest immense heaps of bones were still
pointed out, as relics of the methods by which Inca rule had been built
up.

In 1493, Tupac died at Cuzco and was succeeded by his son Huaina
Capac under whom the era of expansion came to an end; he occupied
himself with temple building, with road construction, and with making
punitive expeditions on the savage tribes who dwelt on the outskirts
of his empire. Afterwards, in 1525, he fell a victim to an epidemic.
There was a civil war due to a rebellion in the northern colony under
Tupac-atahuallpa who assumed the government because of the incapacity
of Huascar, the new chieftain at Cuzco. The revolt was successful; the
warriors from the northern colony steadily advanced until they forced
Huascar to leave Cuzco and finally to surrender himself and his family
into the hands of the rival chieftain, after which he was taken to
Lazamara, the fortified station midway between the northern colony and
the original dominion.

The extent of the territory conquered by the Incas, as well as the
rapidity with which the conquest was made, gives their annals a unique
position in the history of tribal life at a comparatively low state of
culture. As soon as they passed beyond the confines of middle Peru,
their expansion as a conquering power met with no setback. The peoples
who were threatened by their advance did not form a coalition against
them, and when new areas were once conquered, new peoples were at once
added, who supplied them with additional warriors. The structure of
the empire was so simple, so loosely knit that it collapsed as soon as
it was confronted by the serious internal difficulties that grew out
of the disputed succession. The Spaniards came at an opportune moment
and received without trouble the large landed inheritance of the Inca
overlord, whose domains covered the territory now occupied by Ecuador,
Peru, Bolivia, and Chili.

In estimating the standard of civilization attained by the Incas their
theology, which is certainly of an advanced type, is naturally taken
into account. The worship of the sun was one of the strongest bonds
that kept together their widely separated lands. In each pueblo there
was an estate of the sun god that was worked exactly as if it belonged
to a chieftain. This economic network of temple estates was primarily
intended to provide the sun with such constant supplies of food
that the god’s beneficent activity on the earth and to man could be
sustained. The processes of tillage and the craft of weaving were all
brought in this way in close relation to the religion of the dominant
people. Portions of the finest woven stuffs, along with the offerings
of the ground, were burned in sacrifice at each pueblo; the rest was
carried on the backs of llamas belonging to the estates of the sun for
the great festivals celebrated annually at Cuzco, where these beasts
of burden and all they carried were sacrificed in honor of the god. An
essential part of the ritual of sacrifice was the offering of human
victims. These were not war captives as in Mexico; they were taken from
the women serfs, attached to the estates of the sun, the weavers of the
llama wool, who were called “the selected ones.” This name was given
to them because from each family in the pueblo there was collected a
regular tribute of girls, distinguished by their beauty and vigor, who
were trained to become members of the communities dedicated to the
sun’s service. After an education of eight years most of them were
distributed among the various temples of the gods, the sun receiving
the larger share, while some were given to the Ccapac Inca himself or
to his officials.

These offerings of human victims took place at the prescribed
sacrifices during the religious year, and also at extraordinary
crises--for example, when the Inca chieftain was attacked by disease,
when the country was endangered by wars, or when earthquakes and
eclipses occurred. To symbolize the sun, images in the figure of a
man were carved with an attire resembling that of the Inca chieftain,
decorated with a headdress of darts, to resemble the solar rays.

As in Mexico the warrior class in Peru had a special ritual of sun
worship not shared by outsiders. In this case the idol represented an
infant molded of solid gold, with golden embroidery, shod with golden
sandals, and with a headdress copied from that worn by the chiefs.
For the purpose of popular worship, as these esoteric rites were not
accessible to the common people, great sun dials covered with leaf
of gold were set up, where they were exposed to the rays of the sun,
and on them simple liquid offerings were made, that were visibly
appropriated by the god through the processes of evaporation.

A great center of pilgrimage was the throne of the sun at Titicaca
where, in the innermost shrine, there was a sacred rock the summit of
which glittered with gold leaf. In the neighborhood of Cuzco and on
the road to the rock of pilgrimage there were stations of sacrifice,
where burnt-offerings of llamas, cocoa, and maize were made in order
to inaugurate the new sun’s progress from his ancient birthplace in
the south. Sunrise was the time selected for these offerings; a white
llama, bearing fuel, maize, and cocoa leaves, was previously led up
to the mountain top, fire was kindled, and the victim was slain and
consumed in the flames. By the time the sun was about to rise above the
horizon, the burning pile was in full blaze. As the sun rose, the Incas
chanted the prayer for the protection of their god: “O Creator, Sun,
and Thunder, be forever young! Multiply the people, let them ever be in
peace.”

In the Peruvian religious system much attention was given to the
service of dead chieftains by a class of special attendants organized
like those who served the gods. There was, therefore, throughout the
whole Inca domains, a large class of ecclesiastics well endowed with
lands and serfs; at Cuzco at the time of the conquest most of the
inhabitants of the pueblo were assigned to the service of some mummy.
There was no hope for the living unless they could keep the good will
of the dead; in all the affairs of life they had a part, food was
set before the dead body at feasts and liquid refreshment was forced
between the mummy’s lips.

Huascar, the rival of Atahuallpa for the chieftainship of the Incas,
lost the support of the warrior class because he was reported to have
said that all the dead ought to be buried and their property taken
from them. He did not wish to rule over mummies, from less sentimental
reasons than those once expressed on a celebrated occasion by the
spirit of Achilles. There had undoubtedly originated in Peru a movement
against the economic monopoly connected with the temple worship. An
effort had been made to meet this difficulty on the part of the Inca
chieftains, who apparently, in view of the multiplication of festivals
and sacrifices, had adopted the policy of diminishing the worship of
the minor divinities and of concentrating the sacrificial offerings as
far as they could on the Creator, Sun, Thunder, Earth, and Moon.

Under Inca rule the simple tribal administration was retained
throughout the group of districts which were added in rapid succession
to the seat of the race at Cuzco. Each Inca pueblo had its local chief
or curaca, to whom were assigned a certain number of llamas and those
portions of the land that were worked for him by the peasantry, who
did all the agricultural labor. Distributions of the same character
were made in each pueblo for the use of the head chieftain who dwelt
at Cuzco, the so-called Ccapac Inca, and for the service of the tribal
chieftains. The products of these reservations were taken to Cuzco and
deposited there in store-houses from whence the llama hair was given to
the women of the chief pueblo and woven by them into cloth. The food
and the cloth so prepared were either kept as stores for military
expeditions or used for sacrificial purposes.

As the territory of the empire was enlarged, this original system was
applied to it. In each central district there was the same arrangement
of buildings secular and religious, the Inca-tampu and the Ccoricancha,
to which the produce of the lands belonging to the overlord and the sun
was brought at regular intervals. These stations are found generally
throughout the Inca domains, except in the coast-valleys. Between them
were minor stations where two messengers were kept to carry orders
from one stage to the other. Where there were natural difficulties to
be overcome, in the long line of communication between the capitals
Quito and Cuzco, a distance of 1500 miles in extent, causeways were
built, and over streams and torrents enduring bridges were stretched,
made of timber laid in strong ropes of twisted grass. There was a
second road along the coast of the same length, but here, where the
country was sandy, nothing was to be found save direction marks to
indicate the correct track to be followed. In Cuzco there are still
standing massive, finely-executed foundation walls which attest the
skill of Inca builders. The temple of the sun can still be traced in
the edifices of the European occupation. On an elevation commanding
the road which led to middle Peru, the coast-valleys, and the northern
colony there stands an impressive mass of cyclopean masonry, the
fortress of Sacsahuaman, which represents the great terraced fortress
begun by the founder of the Inca dominion and apparently not yet
finished at the time of the conquest.

Though the Incas preserved a systematic administration that worked
with mechanical accuracy over the area of their empire, it was at best
a despotism, and their chieftains were nothing better than crude and
brutal tyrants. The mental capacity of the race seems to have been
below that of the people of Mexico, and their culture was certainly
lower, as is seen in the absence of artistic advance on their part
along with their inability to invent picture-writing, to work out the
divisions of time, or to elaborate a system of numbers, although
they were acquainted with denary arithmetic, and regularly observed the
solstices. As warriors, they seem to have been drilled efficiently but
mechanically; they were unable to foresee changes or adapt themselves
to them when they came. They were vanquished by the Europeans more
easily than the Aztecs had been, and their downfall was brought about
by the assistance rendered the Spaniards by hosts of native allies.




IV PIZARRO


The discovery of the Pacific Ocean and the foundation of the city of
Panama on the narrow peninsula, led to the undertaking of voyages of
exploration farther south, and this in turn to the entrance into Inca
territory. In one of these enterprises progress was made as far as
the Gulf of Guayaquil. The unanimous report was that the country for
hundreds of miles was in a state of nature, unoccupied, unhealthful,
covered with swamps, forests, and lofty mountains; but the voyagers had
also heard that farther on to the south there was an empire, Bisu by
name, civilized and notorious for its great wealth.

[Illustration: FRANCISCO PIZARRO

(From the original painting in the palace of the Viceroys at Lima.)]

Francis Pizarro had been associated with Balboa up to the time of
that leader’s assassination; afterwards he planned to act on his own
account, and his planning ended in the organization of an expedition
to acquire this empire of the south. The natural son of a Spanish
noble, Pizarro, who was born about 1471 at Truxillo, had had no such
advantages of education as those enjoyed by Cortez; he lacked also that
conqueror’s impetuosity and chivalrous traits. Of the bad sides of the
earlier conquistador he had more than a double portion; he was cold,
calculating, and inflexible, shrinking from no cruelty and without a
trace of the emotionalism which made Cortez so popular among his men.

Before giving a concrete shape to his scheme of conquest, he formed a
commercial arrangement with Almagro an adventurer, and Luque a priest
and schoolmaster of Panama, for the purpose of getting a financial
backing. The first essay made in 1524 ended without tangible results.
The coast of Peru was seen, and the adventurers were long enough on
shore at Tumbez to see a surprisingly large number of gold and silver
ornaments. They were not sufficiently strong to carry them off, but
they had seen enough to pay for the hardships of their three years’
trip south and back. Pizarro then betook himself to Spain to get
further support, and before he returned to Panama he had made personal
arrangements with the government with respect to the basis on which he
would carry out his plan of conquest. Some jealousy arose because of
Pizarro’s manifest intention to assume the place of senior partner; the
proposed expedition was saved only by the diplomacy of Luque, who again
drew together his two comrades.

Finally, in 1532, Pizarro sailed away from Panama with three ships
carrying in all 120 men and 36 horses. According to the plan accepted,
Almagro was to follow with reinforcements, while Don Luque remained
in Panama to prevent outside interference with the combination. News
had come, as we have mentioned, to the ears of Huaina Ccapac of the
landing of white men at Tumbez in 1525. Between this date and the year
of Pizarro’s second trip had intervened the period of civil war between
the rival claimants, with the captivity of the legitimate son, Huascar,
in the spring of 1532. By April, after a two months’ trip down the
coast, Pizarro arrived off the pueblo of Tumbez. He found it abandoned
and dismantled. Spending some time exploring the neighborhood, he
founded the town of San Miguel, and was put in possession of the facts
that gave him his opportunity for advance into the interior. Huascar,
desiring to get the coöperation of the Spaniards in maintaining his
hold on the country, sent messengers to Pizarro with such encouraging
words that the plan of conquest could already be outlined. Pizarro knew
how, by making use of the divisions of the natives, Cortez had taken
Mexico; his own opportunity had come sooner than he had expected. “If
the land had not been divided,” said Pedro Pizarro, “we should have
been able neither to enter nor conquer it.” On September 24, 1532,
only about 200 Europeans, all told, set out; but the number of natives
in Pizarro’s army was considerable. All the partisans of Huascar in
the neighborhood were expected to join the Spaniards, because before
setting out Pizarro had announced his intention of supporting Huascar,
the “natural lord of the country.”

The Spaniards had, however, not made much progress towards the pueblo
of Caxamalca when word came from Atahuallpa, the other claimant,
that he desired the friendship of Pizarro; to reinforce his friendly
sentiments a present accompanied the message. Pizarro spoke, in reply,
of his desire for the Inca chieftain to be his friend and brother, and
explained that his chief purpose in coming was to teach the principles
of the Christian religion. Shortly after this official description of
his mission had been given Pizarro moved forward; no opposition was
offered, although in one place a large river had to be crossed where
resistance would have been easy.

In order to obtain information about Atahuallpa efforts were made,
without success, to get some account of his intentions. An Indian chief
was tortured; his information was that the Inca was preparing to make
war, in three places, on the Christians; later on it was reported that
Atahuallpa was near Caxamalca with over 50,000 warriors. Perplexed,
Pizarro employed a native notable to go to Atahuallpa as a friendly
envoy to make clear to him that the Spaniards were coming as allies.
As Pizarro’s men began to fear that they would be exposed to attack on
the last stage of the journey, they were comforted by their commander’s
assurance that they were really nothing more than peaceful missionaries
of God and representatives of their king to ignorant heathen to whom
they wished no harm.

The fears of the adventurers were set at rest by discovering from the
natives they passed on their march up the sierras, that Atahuallpa was
not preparing to meet them in anything but a peaceful fashion. In the
difficult region through which they were being led, their advance
could have been checked by a slight display of force. But the friendly
attitude of the Inca chieftain was proved on several occasions by the
appearance of messengers with food; Pizarro promised, on his side, that
he would help to put down any remaining disaffection. On the part of
the inhabitants there was no reason to suspect that the orders given by
their superiors to serve and obey the newcomers were not reasonable.
The general impression among the natives was that the Europeans were
children of their god, the sun. Naturally this belief tended to give
them a sacred character. Up to the present, indeed, there had been
no conflicts with the natives except at Tumbez and at Puna, where
the opposition was confined to a few hundred Indians. On the arrival
in Caxamalca, Pizarro still kept up the ruse of being an ingenuous
tourist; he sent personally to Atahuallpa to beg for an interview,
insisting on his willingness to help him, and promising, if enemies
were pointed out, he would send his men to reduce them.

Pizarro had now no difficulty in applying the scheme of conquest so
successfully illustrated by Cortez in Mexico, but common enough to
the conquistadors everywhere. By getting possession of the chief, the
Spaniards made sure of the people; like Montezuma in Mexico, Atahuallpa
in Peru was adored as a god. To put the capture of the Inca into
execution was not difficult. He was invited to be present at a feast
given by Pizarro. Under cover of this hospitable act his person could
be seized. The risk came from the fact that he had about him 30,000
men. The night before the plot was to be carried out the Spanish camp
gave itself up to religious exercises, the captain Pizarro taking the
lead in encouraging his men to face the coming danger. Much comfort
was derived from the assurances of the ecclesiastics who accompanied
the expedition that God was on their side and would aid them to put
his enemies to confusion. Careful arrangements had been made that the
Spanish men-at-arms should be held in readiness in their quarters,
prepared to sally into the square of the town at a moment’s notice. The
artillerymen were bidden to train their guns on the Inca camp, and
fire on it when the command was given. Pizarro took with him twenty
men to aid in the seizure of Atahuallpa. In the great square where the
Spaniards were lodged no one was to leave quarters until the artillery
fire began. Much help was expected from the horsemen in causing a
panic among the Indians, and they were told to put little bells on the
harness.

The square of the pueblo that Pizarro selected to carry out his plan
seemed expressly constructed for the deed. Triangular in shape, there
were but two means of egress from it--two doors which gave access to
the streets of the town. When the time appointed came, as the Inca
chief delayed, Pizarro sent word to him to be expeditious, as the meal
was being delayed until he arrived. Atahuallpa, taking an escort of
6000, who were unarmed except for small cudgels and slings, came into
the square. Here there was every appearance of festivity; some of
the men were dancing and singing; some carried plates and crowns of
gold and silver. In a litter, made of gold and silver, Atahuallpa was
borne along through the files of his escort, who parted ranks when he
appeared, all keeping absolute silence. He then listened to a harangue
from a Spanish friar inviting him to obey the Pope and receive the
faith of Christ, and also to become the friend and tributary of the
King of Spain. Otherwise he was threatened with the fate of an enemy;
the Spaniards told him they would abolish all idols, “so that you may
leave the lying religion of your many and false gods.”

Atahuallpa, in his answer, objected to taking the proffered position
of tributary, but wished to be a friend of the King of Spain; he also
declined to receive his kingdom at the hands of the Pope, as the friar
had told him the King of Spain had done. On theological points he
showed himself a skilled disputant, contrasting the Christian God, who
had died, with the sun and moon, who had never died. He also inquired
of the friar how he knew that the God of the Christians had created the
world. The pious friar gave him his Breviary, explaining that he had
learnt of the Creator from that book. Atahuallpa looked at it, opened
its pages, first thanked him, then threw it on the ground, saying
it told him nothing of the kind. Indignantly the friar picked up the
Breviary and rushed to Pizarro, crying out, “The Gospels are on the
ground. Vengeance! Christians, at them! they do not wish our friendship
nor our law! Kill these dogs who despise God’s law. Go on, and I
absolve you.”

At this instant the guns were fired, the trumpets sounded, and the
infantry and cavalry came forth from their shelters. The sight of the
armed warriors on their horses and the noise of the guns threw the
Indians into a panic. In the rush to get out of the square, part of
the wall surrounding it, was broken down. The Indians fell on top of
one another, closely pursued by the horsemen, who trampled them down
without mercy. Those who held their ground inside the inclosure were
dealt with by the foot soldiers, and most of them were killed. There
was no resistance, for the natives were practically unarmed. Atahuallpa
was, as had been agreed, taken alive, many of his nobles giving up
their lives to protect his person from attack. As the members of his
bodyguard fell, their places were taken with desperate heroism by
others of the group.

The massacre was likened by one of the chroniclers to the killing of
sheep. The victims numbered more than 10,000, and only 200 escaped.
Not a Spaniard perished nor even was wounded except Pizarro, who had
a flesh wound in the hand, inflicted accidentally by one of his own
men. Pizarro’s act in hewing down this crowd of Peruvians, unarmed and
panic-stricken, recalls the worst features of the Mexican conquest,
the massacre of Cholula and the attack made by Alvarado on the Mexican
chiefs while they were celebrating a religious festival.

The next day was spent in sacking the palace of Atahuallpa, whose rich
stores of gold and silver were discovered. Next came the question of
the disposition of the captives, 8000 or more. It was actually proposed
that the warriors should be killed or have their hands cut off, but
Pizarro, who had not been trained in vain to the economic principles of
conquest, decided that all should be reduced to slavery. The reduction
of Atahuallpa to the status of a prisoner had the desired effect. The
subordinate chiefs made their peace. This was a welcome escape from
further hostilities, but Pizarro was more interested in arranging
terms for the ransom which Atahuallpa was willing to give to receive
his liberty. The gold and silver kept coming in; sometimes in one day
70,000 pesos were received.

Pizarro not being satisfied with the industry of the natives in
getting treasure, Spanish emissaries were sent to Cuzco. Under their
experienced hands the supplies increased; in one day 200 loads of gold
and 25 of silver were brought into Caxamalca. Much of the precious
metal was made up of strips taken from the walls of the temples, which
were tapestried in this way. Some ornaments are mentioned; such as a
fountain made entirely of gold and a golden footstool weighing 18,000
pesos. All was melted down except a few objects of small weight, kept
and sent to the King of Spain as curiosities.

Despite the paying of this enormous ransom, there was no question of
keeping faith with their captive. He was only in the way now that
Pizarro had the enormous ransom. His death would remove a dangerous
rallying point, and by it his people would be thrown into such
confusion that they would submit the more easily to the yoke that was
being prepared for them. Like the chief of the Aztecs, Cuauhtemoc,
Atahuallpa was charged with disloyalty to the Spanish crown, of which
he was assumed to be a dependent. As the zealous representative of his
King, Pizarro passed sentence of death on his prisoner, commanding that
it be executed by burning. All protests from the victim were unheeded,
even when he assured his conquerors that through him they could keep
the Indians on terms of good will. “If,” he said, “they wished gold and
silver, he was ready to hand over twice the amount they had already
received.” As they did not believe he could keep any such engagement,
they refused to defer the day of execution. When the pile was ready,
Atahuallpa, on finding that if he became a Christian, he would not be
burnt, went through the form of conversion. Pizarro ordered that he
should be bound to a stake on the square of the pueblo and strangled.
(August 29, 1533.)

One of Atahuallpa’s brothers was then proclaimed chief by the
Spaniards, and with this “roi fainéant” in tow Pizarro set out on
the two months’ march to the capital, Cuzco. Before he came to the
neighborhood of the leading pueblo, Inca warriors disputed with some
obstinacy his further progress; but the presence of their chieftain
with Pizarro prevented anything like a serious rising of the people.
Disgusted with this most untoward event, Pizarro blamed an Inca
general, who had been made a prisoner at Xauxa, for the resistance
made on the march. This was enough to prove his guilt; the prisoner
was condemned to death and burnt alive a short distance from Cuzco.
Even this flagrant outrage failed to move the Incas to any organized
effort to stay the European advance; instead of moving aggressively,
Manco, the brother of Huascar, came voluntarily to Pizarro asking his
protection, hoping by his aid to become the chieftain of the Incas.
This alliance made it easy for the Spaniards, posing as the supporters
of the regular line, to get within the walls of Cuzco without
opposition, on November 15, 1533. The great massive pueblo with the
fortress and temple of the sun, and with its extensive population, was
a rich prize. Everything in the way of gold was quickly removed, and
the humble followers of the modest commercial undertaking so recently
organized at Panama found themselves in the possession of wealth.
But the great drawback was the high price of provisions by which the
adventurers lost some of the treasure that had fallen to their share.
Under such conditions of forced hospitality Pizarro arranged for the
elevation of Manco as Ccapac-Inca or overlord. At the same time Cuzco
received the gift of municipal government, March 24, 1534. Pizarro,
not forgetful of his own services, took the title of governor, and
everything was speedily changed. Cuzco now had a bishop, a cathedral
was built, monasteries and convents arose as if by magic, and all the
famous temples were transformed into churches.

Things were moving expeditiously and smoothly in Pizarro’s favor,
until he learnt of the arrival at a place not far from Quito of an
officer of Cortez, Pedro de Alvarado, the governor of Guatemala, with
an expedition of 500 Europeans and more than 2000 Indian allies.
This interference seemed likely to cause trouble, until Alvarado
was persuaded to sell his army and everything in it to Pizarro. The
sum handed over to avoid a competitive conquest, which would have
meant loss of life and, more important still, from the point of view
of these experts in exploitation of subject races, loss of time,
was considerable. Alvarado withdrew with something like $2,000,000;
gauged by the standards of butchery, rapacity, and knavery in the West
Indies and in Mexico, this was a splendid bargain. But, as Alvarado
had only set his foot on Peruvian soil, he had not yet begun to
reckon imperially; he was certainly far removed still from Pizarro’s
poetic fancy in finance. Now that there was no longer a chance for
such awkward interruptions, Pizarro set about the foundation of a new
capital for Peru. Cuzco, being far distant from the seacoast, was
manifestly unsuitable, and accordingly Lima was founded on the 6th
of January, 1535, to be the center of this new colonial possession.
Preparations were already under way for a regular administration with
Pizarro at the head, after the model of the rule established by Cortez
in Mexico.

The royal fifth of the treasure taken was so large that it removed all
obstacles at Madrid. Detailed confirmation was given to the general
concessions made to Pizarro, and their territorial extent was amplified
by adding seventy leagues of land to the south. Almagro received a
concession extending from the southern limit of Pizarro’s province 200
leagues. To the northern territory was given the name New Castile, to
the southern, New Toledo; but the Indian names, Peru and Chili, were
too strongly imbedded in native usage to be forced out of existence.

When Almagro was sent by Pizarro to Cuzco with orders to use it as a
starting-point for the southern territory that had been assigned to
him, the lieutenant took the opportunity of claiming that the Inca
capital was situated south of Pizarro’s concession, and, therefore,
was a part of his own land. This difficulty being patched up on June
12, 1535, Almagro set out for the conquest of Chili, while Pizarro
began the establishment of a new seacoast town, Trujillo, and pushed
forward the building of Lima.

The native population was dealt with after the “repartimiento” plan.
Under the burden of their new oppressors, the Indians, who had for
so long submitted to the cruder tyranny of the Inca chiefs, rose in
revolt. Manco, a scion of the old house, placed himself at the head of
the anti-Spanish movement, and the first success of the natives was
the capture of the citadel of Cuzco, February, 1536. In the meantime
the Spaniards who lived in isolated plantations had been massacred.
Both the new towns, Lima and Trujillo, were invested. After a time
the citadel of Cuzco was retaken from the natives, but Juan, one
of Pizarro’s brothers, met his death in the fighting. As a relief
expedition Pizarro sent to Cuzco more than 400 men, of whom 200 were
cavalry, but they never succeeded in crossing the Sierra. Aid was then
asked from the neighboring colonies of Panama, Guatemala, and Mexico.
With the help of abundant reinforcements, Cuzco was retaken, and the
obstinacy of the Spaniards in holding their ground for six months
discouraged the Indians from further efforts to cut off the old capital.

When Almagro discovered the unattractive character of his newly
assigned province, where the population was hostile and the land
largely a desert, he returned along the western declivities of the
Andes to reassert his claims on Cuzco. Arriving there in April, 1537,
he made a successful night attack on the place, and took Pizarro’s
brother, Fernando, prisoner. Near Cuzco Alvarado was stationed with 500
men at Xanca, and here a battle took place on July 12, 1537, in which
Alvarado was beaten and taken prisoner. Almagro then set out for Lima.
He and Pizarro, after a meeting at Mala on November 13, 1537, agreed to
submit the question of the limits of their provinces to arbitration,
arranging in the meantime that Almagro should hold Cuzco and Ferdinand
Pizarro should have Caxamalca. But this arrangement was not carried
out. Ferdinand soon after organized an expedition to recapture Cuzco,
and another battle was fought with Almagro in April, which resulted
in the latter being taken prisoner. After being given the semblance
of a trial, he was put to death on July 8, 1538, by Fernando. Francis
Pizarro, who denied complicity in Almagro’s death, treated the latter’s
son kindly, but he did not forget to reward his own brothers, after he
had made his triumphal entrance into Cuzco, with large landed estates.
To Gonzalo he gave the district of Lake Titicaca, which included the
mines of Potosi.

The assassination of Almagro stirred up indignation among his friends,
who determined, that when the official explanations were presented in
Spain by Pizarro’s emissaries, their side should be given a hearing.
In the mother country, the authorities refused to distinguish between
the claims of the two factions. What was plain was that dissensions
in the colony could only damage Spanish control, and might lead to a
restoration of Indian rule there. Accordingly a royal commissioner was
sent out with ample powers.

Before the new official arrived, Pizarro showed his characteristic
industry in expanding the sphere of Spanish influence. Groups of
adventurers were sent out in different directions, and plans were made
which ended in the foundation of Santiago in Chili. One of Pizarro’s
brothers was sent off with an army of 340 Europeans and 4000 Indians
to conquer the country east of the Andes. Led by the usual stories
of the existence of gold and precious stones in far-distant regions,
the Spaniards in this expedition, overcoming the most extraordinary
natural difficulties in their march, succeeded in reaching one of the
tributaries of the Amazon. A boat was then built by means of which
one of the members of the party, Orellana, with a few companions,
made the long trip to the ocean, and finally succeeded in reaching
a Spanish colony on one of the islands of the Antilles. This was a
unique achievement, for the vessel in which he sailed was constructed
of green timber, there was no compass, no pilot was to be had, and
provisions had to be collected from the natives along the bank of the
river, who sometimes received the strangers with no friendly welcome.
Orellana, in relating his achievements, demonstrated the creative power
of his imagination as well as his heroism. He told of seeing nations
so rich that the roofs of their temples were covered with plates of
gold, and also related how he had passed through a republic controlled
by women, who by the force of their arms had acquired the rule over
a considerable tract of country. From these fictions of Orellana
originated the belief in the existence of a region called El Dorado,
and the conviction that somewhere in the center of South America there
existed a community of Amazons.

In 1545 the silver mines of Potosi were discovered, an event which
played an enormous rôle in the colonization of the country, because
its wealth realized the most sanguine hopes of the adventurers.
Upper Peru--or as it is now called, Bolivia--became the greatest
silver mining country in the known world. Meanwhile the success of
Pizarro’s administration stirred up among Almagro’s friends increasing
bitterness, for they saw no chance of receiving a share of the good
fortune which was being showered upon the governor, his brothers, and
his favorites. Almagro’s son, who was in Lima, made that town the
central point of the faction that was bent on Pizarro’s ruin. The
governor, though aware of the existence of these intrigues, affected
to treat them with disdain. He relied on the possession of absolute
power as the complete protection against any plot. This foolhardy
attitude was taken advantage of by the conspirators, who, without much
difficulty, penetrated into his house and put him to death June 26,
1541. Even Pizarro’s own followers, the men who had shared with him the
dangers of the conquest and the spoils of victory, raised no hand to
avenge his murder. His Borgia-like character had alienated all, except
his immediate relatives whom, as has been said, he had elevated to high
positions.

When the governor from Spain, Vaca de Castro, reached the country,
he proceeded to inflict strict justice on the conspirators. After an
armed conflict near Cuzco, between the partisans of Almagro and the
upholders of the authority of the home government, most of those
who were guilty of the murder of Pizarro fell into the governor’s
hands, who promptly executed them as rebels (1542). But the country
was not destined to enjoy tranquillity long. Gonzalo Pizarro, the
brother of the “conquistador,” acquired by force the possession of the
colony, and succeeded in extending his rule over Peru and its various
dependencies. He even sent north a fleet which captured Panama and
so got command of the western ocean. But the usurper’s rule did not
last long, for, when he was disowned by the home government, he found
himself unable to maintain his authority over the colonists. Like his
more famous brother, Gonzalo died the death of a malefactor, and the
vast possessions acquired on the west coast of South America by the
adventurers of the earlier period of Spanish conquest came under the
systematic and regular control of the Spanish bureaucratic machinery.

By the middle of the sixteenth century the spectacular features of
the conquest of Spanish America vanished away. Large and unexplored
territories were indeed added to the monarchy of Spain, but as the
lands so annexed were populated by Indian tribes in no higher state
of culture than those found in the lesser Antilles, the methods of
conquest were but a repetition of those employed by the adventurers
of an earlier period. On the whole it may be said that the treatment
of the natives improved, especially in those districts where there
was no mining or where gold could be discovered near the surface.
Long after the complete administrative organization of the conquered
lands in Mexico, of Central America, of the northern portions of South
America, and of the Pacific slope of that continent, the colonies
on the Atlantic side, even if they were founded earlier, were less
attractive to the colonist. The Jesuits first appeared in Paraguay in
1586, though Uruguay was opened up for settlement some time before.
The town of Buenos Ayres was established in 1538 amid surroundings
which gave little hope to colonial settlement. The original group of
3000 Europeans who entered the new Province of La Plata were almost
exterminated by disease and by the fatiguing and incessant warfare
with the savage races about them.

From the point of view of the old mercantile system of political
economy, Spain’s colonial policy was advantageous to the home
government. It is usual to expose the failure of the government of
Madrid to manage its vast empire under any other ideals than those
of absolutism, but when one considers the size and novelty of the
experiment that Spain was making in these Western lands, and when one
estimates broadly the stage of civilization so soon reached in a large
number of new communities, it must be allowed that to the government
of the peninsula is to be ascribed the credit of accomplishing a task
practically unparalleled in modern history. The work was not thoroughly
done; there were grave and deplorable defects. Yet without accepting at
all the truth of the dictum that whatever is, is right, it can be said
that no colonial possessions of other powers during the same century
offered the same problems as those confronted by Spain, and nowhere in
North America was the progress of extensive occupation and intensive
civilization so definitely marked.

The Spanish colonial empire has had the misfortune of being exposed to
much the same sort of depreciation as the Byzantine Empire; in both
cases investigation has diminished the weight of conventional hostile
criticism. Doctrinaire theories of government, and unfounded social
contrasts, are apt to produce false standards. It is easy to detect
faults in Spain’s management of her colonies, but it is not easy to
reconstruct for her a policy that might have produced on Spanish
soil the sturdy independence of the New England town meeting, or the
collective wisdom of the founders of the American Constitution.

       *       *       *       *       *

NAPOLEON




I EARLY YEARS


Corsica, during a large part of the eighteenth century, had drawn upon
itself the attention of Europe, on account of its heroic struggle
for independence. Its champion was Pasquale Paoli, whose character
and patriotism provoked the same sort of enthusiastic attention from
his contemporaries that centered upon Garibaldi 100 years later. The
cause of the islanders against the city of Genoa, which exercised the
right of overlordship over them, was so successfully defended that
had not the kingdom of France interfered as the ally of Genoa, the
establishment of an independent Corsican republic would have been
assured. But unfortunately the Genoese surrendered the sovereignty of
the island to France. The French occupied the harbors, the Corsicans
were defeated in a pitched battle, and Paoli retired as a fugitive
to England. All further resistance was abandoned, and the island was
annexed to France.

[Illustration: NAPOLEON I.

(From the portrait by P. Delaroche.)]

In the Corsican deputation sent to Paris to arrange terms with the
conquerors was Carlo Bonaparte, a member of a noble Tuscan family,
whose ancestors had established themselves in Ajaccio 200 years before.
Some time before this visit to Paris his wife, Maria Letitia, had given
birth to a son, Napoleon. There has recently been a question raised
whether the traditionally accepted date, August 15, 1769, is correct,
and some French investigators are in favor of antedating it by one
year. There were eight surviving children, five of them boys, out of
a family of thirteen. Napoleon describes himself as an unruly child
despite the iron discipline exercised in the home by his mother. “I
was,” he says, “self-willed and obstinate, nothing awed me; nothing
disconcerted me. I was quarrelsome, exasperating; I feared no one, I
gave a blow here and a scratch there. Everyone was afraid of me. My
brother Joseph was the one with whom I had most to do. He was beaten
about and scolded; I complained that he did not get over it soon
enough.”

The father, a lawyer by profession, was engaged in unending litigation
in his own behalf, which required frequent trips to Paris, where he was
well known on account of his efforts to recover an estate, deeded by
some relative to the Jesuit order, and also as a representative deputy
of the Corsican nobility. On one of these trips the head of the house
died in 1785; seven years before that date he had been successful in
getting a scholarship for Napoleon at the military school of Brienne,
where the young soldier had just completed his course and received his
commission as lieutenant at the time of his father’s death. At school
Napoleon had made little reputation as a scholar; he stated himself
later on that it was the general opinion that he “was fit for nothing
except geometry.” He was unsociable, with an imperious temperament
that parted everyone from him. One of his schoolfellows writes of his
characteristics as follows: “Gloomy and even savage, almost always
self-absorbed, one would have supposed that he had just come from
some forest, and unmindful, until then, of the notice of his fellows,
experienced for the first time the sensations of surprise and distrust;
he detested games and all manner of boyish amusements. One part of the
garden was allotted to him and there he studied and brooded, and woe to
him who ventured to disturb him. One evening the boys were setting off
fireworks and a small powder-chest exploded. In their fright the troop
scattered in all directions, and some of them took refuge in Napoleon’s
domain, whereat he rushed upon the fugitives in a passion and attacked
them with a spade.”

He had wished to enter the navy after his studies were finished,
but there was some delay until, as his family were in straitened
circumstances, he decided to enter the artillery, where the
applications for admission were fewer. So he passed from Brienne to
Paris, where he again seems to have made no very favorable impression,
except on the mathematical instructor at the military school, Monge,
whose report on Bonaparte at the time he was leaving school reads as
follows: “Reserved and studious, he prefers study to amusement of any
kind, and takes pleasure in reading the works of good authors; while
diligent in his study of abstract science, he cares little for any
other; he has a thorough knowledge of mathematics and geography. He is
taciturn, preferring solitude, capricious, haughty, and inordinately
self-centered. While a man of few words, he is vigorous in his replies,
ready and incisive in retort; he has great self-esteem, is ambitious
with aspirations that stop at nothing. He is a young man worthy of
patronage.”

The new officer, who was assigned to duty at Valence, found garrison
life very tedious; promotion was slow, there were no drills, camp
life, nor manœuvers; he spent, he says, a good deal of his time
reading novels, planned even to write one, and took some part in the
local life of the town, making friends among the society of petty
officials, lawyers, and other persons of middle-class station. He did
some solid reading also, making himself acquainted with Rousseau, Adam
Smith, and Raynal, the last having so much influence over him, that he
acknowledged himself as Raynal’s disciple in his views as to the need
of social reform in France, which, among other things, implied the
abolition of class privileges and the purification of administration.
His literary attempts were various; he was prompted to make them
because his pay of 100 livres a month, though adequate for himself, was
not sufficient to help out his relatives in Corsica, where his mother
and the rest of the family were in a position of financial difficulty.

During the early years of the revolutionary movement in France,
Napoleon spent a large part of the time in Corsica, where the
nationalist party hoped to take advantage of the civil disturbances of
their new rulers, and reclaim their independence. For a time he made
their cause his own, and developed a scheme for driving the French
from the island. But conditions soon changed after Paoli returned
to Corsica. Napoleon, who hoped for high military command among his
own people, failed to secure the support of the old leader, who
suspected the young officer, on account of the radical sympathies he
manifested for the revolutionary party in France. Paoli believed in
a constitutional monarchy, and refused to side with the Convention
which had put Louis XVI to death. Most of the Corsicans followed their
conservative statesman, and in May, 1793, Napoleon and the whole
Bonaparte family were declared outlaws.

After an unsuccessful attempt to take Ajaccio from the Paolists
Napoleon, with the rest of his family, abandoned the island and
withdrew to Toulon. His scheme of self-advancement at home had failed;
he had now only France to look to as the field of his ambition. It was
fortunate for him that during this period his irregular connection
with the French army, in which he still held the rank of officer, was
tolerated. He had made himself marked by his openly declared sympathies
with the anti-monarchical party, and for this reason, his independent
action in visiting Corsica and remaining there as long as he liked was
passed over without criticism from his superiors in Paris; indeed,
his captain’s commission was dated February 6, 1792, a time when he
was devoting his attention altogether to Corsican affairs, in his own
interest.

His arrival in France coincided with the establishment of the Reign of
Terror, and the government at Paris had on their hands an insurrection
in the southern part of the country which sided with the Girondins,
many of whose leaders had been put to death by the Jacobins. Napoleon
resumed his military service at Nice, and immediately took part in
repressing the Girondin insurrection. He also expressed his full
agreement with the Jacobins in a dialogue entitled the _Souper de
Beaucaire_, a pamphlet intended to win adherents to the cause of the
Terrorists at Paris. His apology called public attention to him,--the
dialogue was printed at the expense of the state, and its author
was soon on friendly terms with the younger Robespierre, one of the
commissioners of the Convention in southern France.

In various towns, Marseilles included, the insurrectionists were
losing their foothold. The last important place left to them was
Toulon, where they were being actively supported by English and
Spanish allies. It was necessary to win the place, for preparations
were being made on a large scale by both England and Austria to use
Toulon as a starting-point to invade southern France. Napoleon was
given the command of a battalion of artillery, and it was his scheme
for arranging the batteries around the town that led to the taking of
the city by the French. His services were recognized by promotion to a
brigadier generalship, a fitting reward, for it was his strategy which
had compelled the allied troops of Spain and England to evacuate the
one place on French territory which they occupied.

The younger Robespierre spoke of him in a report to the Committee
of Public Safety as a man of transcendent merit. Bonaparte was
intimate with the commissioner, and that he impressed those who knew
him as an ardent sympathizer with the Terrorists is borne out by a
statement contained in Mlle. Robespierre’s memoranda: “Bonaparte was
a republican, I should say that he was a republican of the Mountain,
at least he made that impression upon me from his manner of regarding
things at the time I was in Nice [1794]. Later his victories turned
his head and made him aspire to rule over his fellow-citizens, but,
while he was but a general of artillery in the army of Italy, he was
a believer in thorough-going liberty and equality.” Yet the fanatical
side of the Robespierre government, with its policy of ruthless
massacre, evidently did not win his sympathy, for there is good
ground for believing that, after the capture of Toulon, he was one
of those who counseled moderation towards the vanquished and opposed
the wholesale execution of the rebels. What attracted him to the
Robespierre régime was its directness and its energy, and there is
no doubt that he had a much higher opinion of the personal capacity
of Robespierre than is held by a later school of historians of the
French Revolution, who see in him a somewhat commonplace and decorative
tool of the obscurer members of the Committee of Public Safety. In a
conversation with Marmont, after Robespierre’s downfall, he said, “If
Robespierre had remained in power, he would have been able to strike
out another way for himself, he would have systematized the laws and
made them permanent; we should have attained this result without shocks
and convulsions because it would have proceeded from the exercise of
power. We are now trying to reach this goal through a revolution, and
this revolution will give birth to a monarchy.”

As a friend and counselor of Robespierre’s younger brother, who had
already become interested in Napoleon’s scheme for an invasion of
Italy, the prospects of his securing an independent military command
were most encouraging, especially as he had just been so flatteringly
recommended by the younger Robespierre to the Committee of Public
Safety. But all chances of such advancement were lost with the downfall
and execution of the revolutionary dictator in July, 1794.

Napoleon was involved in the general ruin of the Robespierre party;
he lost his commission as general and spent a month as a prisoner in
a military fortress. He fortunately had friends who interceded for
him, among them Salicetti, the Corsican, a member of the Convention,
by whose efforts the charge of disloyalty to the Republic was shown to
be baseless and the prisoner was released, reinstated, and given the
important mission of restoring French sovereignty in Corsica, which had
lately declared itself a constitutional monarchy under the protection
of England. The expedition failed on account of the weakness of the
French fleet. For some time after this misadventure Napoleon remained
without a command; the government at Paris was not inclined to forward
the interests of a former partisan of Robespierre.

There were besides a number of young officers quite capable of filling
important army commands, and all that Napoleon could secure was an
assignment in the west under Hoche, who was engaged in repressing the
insurrection in La Vendée. He had no taste for such work, nor did he
desire to serve in a subordinate capacity. Taking advantage of the
weakness of the administration, he delayed his departure from Paris,
although he had received peremptory orders to leave for his command.
He hoped by the influence of friends such as Barras, whom he had known
at Toulon, and who was now a man of weight in the counsels of the
party predominant in the Convention, to secure the acceptance from the
ministry of war of his plan for the invasion of Italy. He was not only
disappointed in this hope, but he found himself again stricken from the
list of French generals because of his refusal to proceed to the post
already assigned him.

There was no encouragement to be got out of the prevailing political
tendencies, which were showing a marked antagonism to the radical
revolutionary party, with whose program Napoleon had been allied from
the first. A restoration of the monarchy seemed not improbable, for the
common people of Paris were showing signs of restlessness under the
régime of the Terrorist factions. The members of the Convention, after
providing for a stable government with an executive power vested in
a Directory of five members, were fearful of the consequences of the
proposed changes they had themselves provided, and they proceeded to
pass a measure by which the newly elected legislative body, the Council
of Five Hundred, should be composed, to the extent of two-thirds of
its membership, of those who had served in the Convention. This action
caused an open revolt. Forty-four out of the forty-eight sections,
into which Paris was divided, were in arms against the continuance of
the tyranny of the Convention. On one side stood the National Guard
of the city; on the other there were only 8000 regular troops willing
to obey the mandate of the government. Barras happened to be one of
the commissioners of the Convention appointed to preserve order. He
was then chosen commander-in-chief of the army, and, acting with the
reluctant consent of the other members of the Committee, he selected
his friend Napoleon as second in command, with full power to act in
defense of the Convention.

No time could be lost, and everything depended on getting artillery
into the city to the Tuileries. Here the guns were stationed, before
the National Guard commenced to advance on the 5th of October. No
one knows who fired the first shot, but the engagement that followed
soon ended in a complete disaster for the insurgents, who were driven
from position to position by the volleys of grapeshot which swept the
streets in the vicinity of the Seine. In recognition of his services
rendered at such a crisis, Napoleon was almost immediately advanced to
the post of commander-in-chief of the Army of the Interior, the way
being made easy for him by Barras’ appointment as one of the Directors
in the new government. Napoleon’s analysis of the situation, made the
day after this fight in the streets of Paris, was characteristically
clear-headed. “Fortune is on my side,” he writes to his brother Joseph,
and from this sudden change in his prospects may be dated that belief
in his star signalized by his favorite motto, “Au destin,” which became
the axiom of his career, as well as its explanation and justification.

Barras’ services did not end here; he realized the young general’s
capacity, seeing in him a man whom it would be useful to have bound to
him by personal obligations, and he suggested, and it is said, even
arranged Napoleon’s marriage with Mme. de Beauharnais, a well known
member of Parisian society, the widow of a nobleman who had fallen
a victim of the Terror, and herself a native of Martinique. She had
fascinated the soldier by her charm of manner and was now prepared,
despite the objections of her friends, to give him the social position
that Barras insisted was necessary for his further promotion. This
advice of Barras was not necessarily disinterested, for there were,
it seems, reasons of a different nature, which may have prompted him
to relieve himself, by making use of Napoleon, of further personal
responsibilities he had incurred towards the lady in question. The
marriage had an immediate influence in advancing the fortunes of the
bridegroom, for two days before it was solemnized (March 4, 1796),
Napoleon attained the long-coveted position of commander-in-chief of
the Army of Italy; and on the 11th of the same month, he set out for
his new post.




II ITALY AND EGYPT


Of the great Continental Powers which had formed a coalition against
the revolutionary government of France, Austria and Russia were
actively inimical, and there was no prospect of coming to terms with
them, unless all the conquered territories recently acquired by France
were sacrificed. The idea of natural boundaries had become by this time
a dogma of political faith, and even the Directory, confronted as it
was by a demoralized administration, by bad business conditions, and
by an inflated currency, had no thought of making peace. Armies were
operating along the eastern frontiers; and as soon as Napoleon reached
Nice, he prepared, along the lines he had so frequently urged, to take
the offensive against the vulnerable Austrian provinces of northern
Italy.

The force he took over now numbered 38,000 men, out of a nominal
six divisions of 60,282. They were poorly equipped, insufficiently
nourished, and had not received their pay. The manifesto issued to
them, according to Napoleon’s report of it at St. Helena, held out
an immediate change of fortune. It is a document characteristic in
contents and form of the new era of glory and conquest on which France
was now to embark under Napoleon’s leadership. “Soldiers,” he said,
“you are ill-fed and almost naked; the government owes you much; it
can give you nothing. Your patience, the courage which you exhibit
in the midst of these mountains, are worthy of admiration; but they
bring you no atom of glory; not a ray is reflected upon you. I will
conduct you into the most fertile places of the world. Rich provinces,
great cities, will be in your power; there you will find honor, glory,
and wealth. Soldiers of Italy, will you be lacking in courage or
perseverance?”

These promises were made good in the remarkable campaign that followed,
in which Napoleon’s soldiers found their material wants amply satisfied
and their ambitious wishes for a career of glory more than answered
in the brilliant victories of their general. Napoleon’s plan of
operations was guided by the principles he had outlined two years
before to the Robespierre régime. “In the management of war, as in the
siege of a city,” he said, “the method should be to direct the fire
upon a single point. The breach once made, equilibrium is destroyed,
all further effort is useless, and the place is taken. Attacks should
not be scattered, but united. An army should be divided for the sake
of subsistence and concentrated for combat. Unity of command is
indispensable to success. Time is everything.”

The last mentioned condition was fully vindicated, for before the end
of April the French had beaten in a succession of quickly delivered
attacks and effective battles, the Austrian army occupying Piedmont and
also their Piedmontese allies. With the retreat of the Austrians from
his kingdom, King Victor Amadeus made peace, and Napoleon hurried on
to deal finally with the Austrians on their own territory in Lombardy.
With the winning of the battle of Lodi on the 10th of May, Lombardy was
soon evacuated by the enemy, and Napoleon entered the capital of the
province, Milan, on the 16th of May. The commander of the victorious
army paid little attention to the policy outlined at Paris for his
conduct in Italy; he negotiated independently of the Directory and
oftentimes contrary to their expressed wishes. When they proposed to
divide his command by sharing it with General Kellermann, he wrote,
“Each person has his own way of making war. General Kellermann has had
more experience and will do it better than I; but both together will
do it badly.” By this plain statement, the Directors were brought to
terms; they were unwilling to let Napoleon resign his command, for the
campaign was giving the government the prestige it badly needed, and
what was equally valuable in their eyes was Napoleon’s novel method of
conducting warfare without making any demands on the central treasury.

In the meantime there were further successes to be recorded against
the Austrians. Wherever they made a stand they were defeated; a large
number of their men were blocked up in the great citadel at Mantua,
and, for months, armies in succession were sent down from the Tyrol to
relieve that city. The ability of Napoleon was tested in many hard-won
fights against superior numbers; he was often in critical situations,
especially at the battle of Arcola where, for three days (November
17-20, 1796), the stubbornness of the Austrians held the French in
check. During one of the critical incidents of the fight, Napoleon had
personally to rally his men, and, when they were thrown into confusion
by the Austrian fire, he was in danger of capture and was saved only by
the presence of mind of his aide, Marmont, and of his own brother Louis.

Further attempts on the part of Austria to preserve its Italian
possessions proved unavailing. After a decisive engagement fought
at Rivoli early in the year 1797, the Austrian garrison at Mantua
capitulated, and with the fall of this fortress, Austrian rule in Italy
was brought to an end. Later on Napoleon followed up these successes by
moving towards Vienna with a force of 34,000 men. He was ably seconded
by his subordinate generals, among whom was Moreau, with the result
that the remaining Austrian forces, gathered to defend their capital,
were defeated, and by the preliminaries of peace signed at Leoben,
Austria lost her Italian possessions, was deprived of her predominant
influence in the peninsula, and agreed to the cession of Belgium. As
a compensation she was to receive the possessions of Venice on the
mainland, on both sides of the Adriatic.

These manipulations of territory, so far as Italy was concerned, were
directed entirely in accordance with the personal will of Napoleon,
who had already acted on his own initiative in his dealings with the
petty Italian states. During the course of the campaign he had forced
Tuscany and Naples to accept French sovereignty in the peninsula
practically on his own terms, he had deprived the Pope of a large
part of his territory and, after the terms of the treaty were signed,
but before they were publicly announced, he had sought a quarrel with
Venice, in order to put an end to the republic and so to find an excuse
for annexing part of her territory to France. In this way he could hand
over to Austria the fragments that had been secretly assigned to that
power at Leoben. The brilliancy of these military operations, by which
the whole face of the traditional situation in Italy was altered in the
short space of one year, set Napoleon in such a secure position that
his critics and detractors hesitated to call in question his autocratic
acts, though Mallet du Pan tells us that the praise showered by the
Directory on the young conqueror was recognized as insincere, adding,
“There were voices in favor of sending the young hero to the Place de
la Révolution to have a score of bullets lodged in his pate.”

Napoleon himself, contrasting his success with the inefficiency of
the Austrians, describes his victories in the following passage: “My
military successes have been great; but then consider the servants of
the Emperor! His soldiers are good and brave, though heavy and inactive
compared with mine; but what generals! a Beaulieu, who had not the
slightest knowledge of localities in Italy; Wormser, deaf and eternally
slow; or Alvinzy, who was altogether incompetent. They have been
accused of being bribed by me; these are nothing but falsehoods, for I
never had such a thing in view. But I can prove that no one of these
three generals had a single staff on which several of the superior
officers were not devoted to me and in my pay. Hence I was apprised not
only of their plans but of their designs, and I interfered with them,
while they were still under deliberation.”

With the states wrested from the Pope, there were taken from the Duke
of Modena and from Austria territories sufficient to found a republic
entitled the Cisalpine, and with this, there was a new rearrangement
of the territories on the west coast by which the ancient republic of
Genoa ceased to exist and reappeared with the Napoleonic brand as
the Ligurian Republic. Both of these creations were after the French
model, but the general of the army drew up the constitutions, chose the
officials, and exercised the irresponsible powers of a dictator. The
final terms of the treaty with Austria were not settled till October,
1797, but nothing was gained by the shrewd diplomatic fencings of the
Viennese representatives. Napoleon, in a theatrical scene, at which he
passionately broke in pieces a valuable porcelain vase in the presence
of Coblentzl, the Austrian envoy, threatened to smash the Austrian
monarchy if the parleyings were too long continued. The liberation of
Italy appealed to the patriotic sentiment of the Italians, until the
political realism of their conqueror manifested itself by enforcing on
them contributions of money, art treasures, valuable manuscripts, all
of which were sifted and collected by the experts Napoleon carried with
his army. Even mathematical instruments and natural history collections
did not escape his vigilance.

In the imposition of these exactions, the Papacy fared no better
than the secular princes. While the dukes of Parma and Modena paid
12,000,000 francs and 20 pictures, the Pope was mulcted to the extent
of 21,000,000 francs, 15,000,000 in cash, the rest to be made up by the
surrender of 100 pictures, 500 manuscripts, and the bust of the patriot
Brutus. This original method of making war pay for itself pleased
the Directory. Great fêtes were prepared for the conqueror, when he
appeared in Paris, to celebrate his victories. The official orator of
the occasion was Talleyrand, who selected as the chief points of his
eulogy Napoleon’s modesty, his taste for the poems of Ossian, and his
fondness for mathematics.

But to the clear intelligence of Napoleon, forms of adulation, real
or insincere, meant little. He was making rapid progress towards the
goal of personal rule. The government already suspected his loyalty to
them, but they were weak and without moral influence. Besides, they
were under obligations, even more binding than those based or the money
contributions which flowed in from Italy, for when the reactionary
party was about to get the upper hand, both among the Legislative Body
and among the Directors themselves, it was Napoleon’s agent, Augereau,
who had coöperated actively with the radical element and made its
continued predominance in the control of national affairs possible.

There was no intention to diminish the weight of the military element
as the predominant partner. By the premature death of Hoche, Napoleon
was left without a rival, and he did not hesitate to speak of the
Directory as a makeshift government. The immediate question was to
prevent an outbreak between the victorious general and his superiors,
by which a return to the monarchy might be made easy. France was
still at war with Great Britain; therefore, when Napoleon proposed to
attack the vulnerable point of British influence in Egypt, with the
ultimate purpose of advancing from there on the British domains in
India, the plan was eagerly accepted by the Directors, despite the
obviously utopian character of the proposal. Napoleon spoke in his best
sententious style of the East as the only place where real glory could
be acquired. The Directors were willing that he should absent himself
from France, glad to purchase freedom from his control by assigning him
a new important command over the best troops in France.

It is not probable that Napoleon was at all in earnest in planning
an expedition to India; he appreciated the weakness of the home
government, and from Egypt it would not be difficult to return,
whenever he was needed, in the rôle of the sole savior of the country.
The scale of preparation for this unique military adventure was most
imposing; there was an air of mystery about it; people talked of its
destination being Constantinople or India. Ships, to the number of
500, were gathered at Toulon, manned by 10,000 sailors and fitted to
transport 35,000 veteran troops, taken mostly from the army of Italy.
All of Napoleon’s best generals were to be with him, Berthier, Murat,
Lannes, Davout, Marmont, Duroc, and the two popular commanders from
the army of the Rhine, Kléber and Desaix. Great care was given to the
material and scientific side of the expedition. Scholars and scientific
experts were to accompany it, either for the purpose of antiquarian
research in Egypt, or to develop the unused powers of the soil of the
fertile Nile valley. There was plenty of money, for Berthier was sent
to Rome to exact additional contributions from churches and convents.
He called himself the treasurer of the Egyptian expedition and promised
to fill his treasure chests.

The great fleet set sail on the 19th of May, 1798; only when the ships
were at sea did the troops know what was to be their destination.
The first point reached was Malta, where the famous Knights, so long
the residuary legatees of the great crusading tradition, surrendered
without resistance and received a French garrison. By good fortune the
French armada escaped the vigilance of the English fleet which was
cruising in the Mediterranean; and the army was landed at Alexandria on
June 30th.

At this time Turkey had only the nominal sovereignty in Egypt, the
real power being in the hands of a military caste, the Mamelouks, who
exercised an oppressive rule over the cultivators of the soil, and
the Arab chieftains, who represented the ancient conquerors of the
country. Napoleon proclaimed himself as a liberator, promising to
respect the customs and religion of the land, and offering his help in
the development of its natural resources. After the easy capture of
Alexandria there was a long, weary march across the desert to Cairo,
during which the troops so suffered from intense heat, fatigue, and
lack of food that there was discontent among both officers and men.

The final stand of the Mamelouks was made near Cairo within sight of
the Pyramids, where they tried to rush the French squares with their
cavalry. But the French artillery with its murderous fire decimated the
advancing squadrons before they could come in contact with the French
troops, with the result that on the French side the loss was only about
thirty men, while the Mamelouks reckoned theirs by the thousand. Many
of them, too, were drowned in the Nile. The French soldiers bent their
bayonets and fished the bodies out in order to get the gold pieces in
the belts of the dead warriors. Napoleon grimly reported that “the army
was becoming reconciled to Egypt.” In the midst of these brilliant
achievements, the victory of Nelson at Aboukir on the 1st of August
came like a bolt from the blue, for the French admiral’s fleet was
virtually annihilated, and by this disaster the French army was cut off
from its base and, as it were, imprisoned in the land it had conquered.
Yet Nelson could not follow up his victory; he had no frigates and,
therefore, could not enter the harbor of Alexandria to destroy the
provisions and the transport ships which were collected there.

One of the results of the naval battle was an uprising at Cairo, which
was ruthlessly repressed, 5000 of the insurgents losing their lives.
After an expedition had been sent into upper Egypt as far as the
cataracts of Syene, the country was reduced to some kind of order, but
there were further difficulties to deal with from another quarter, for,
under the instigation of England, the Turks were preparing to retake
Egypt, and two armies were now on the way with this object. One of
them was to proceed through Asia Minor and Syria; to meet the enemy
Napoleon, with the bulk of his army, advanced through Syria, conquering
towns as he proceeded with his usual unbroken fortune. The march was
signalized by spectacular deeds of personal prowess on the part of his
subordinate generals. But he also shocked his admirers by the horrible
massacre of 3000 prisoners at Jaffa. The excuse for this deed of
bloodshed was that the victims had been previously released on parole
and had broken it by taking part in the defense of Jaffa. The first
failure in this unexampled course of success came at St. John d’Acre,
an important seaport which was obstinately defended by its Turkish
garrison, aided by an English commodore, Sidney Smith. After two
unsuccessful assaults had been made by the French, with heavy losses,
Napoleon withdrew in unconcealed disgust at his failure. He never
forgot Sidney Smith, and spoke of him always as the man who had spoiled
his luck; “that idiot [bicoque] was the only thing,” he said, “that
prevented me from entering India and striking a deathblow at England.”

After the raising of the siege hope of further progress through Syria
was abandoned, and the army, suffering from illness and discontent, had
a miserable march back to Egypt, their route being marked by dead and
dying. Napoleon showed great constancy in this disastrous experience,
exposing himself to the ravages of the plague and restoring the
confidence of his men by his coolness. On reaching Egypt the French
found that a Turkish army of 18,000 men had disembarked at Alexandria;
these, however, were soon disposed of at the second battle of Aboukir,
fought almost a year after the first (July 25, 1799). The Turkish
soldiers who refused, or were not able, to reembark on their transports
were thrown into the sea.

While the expedition was marked by such deeds of barbarism, it had
a more justifiable side because of the civilized and progressive
administration given to Egypt by its French conquerors. Intelligent
efforts were made to conciliate the Mussulman population; justice,
finance, and administration were reformed; even a beginning was made in
establishing something resembling representative government. Works of
public utility were encouraged, some planned on a large scale, such as
the building of a canal at Suez, a project only realized many decades
afterwards. Remarkable also were the scientific results attained
through the foundation of an Egyptian Institute consisting of French
specialists in archeology, architecture, and art. Among its members
were men who devoted themselves to promoting an industrial reformation,
while others accomplished hygienic improvements for the cities. Indeed,
the most durable result of this extraordinary scheme of Oriental
conquest was the primacy of culture it gave to France in Egypt, a
primacy she has continued to maintain even in the face of the military
occupation of the country by England.




III THE FALL OF THE DIRECTORY


During the long absence of Napoleon from France, the incapacity
of the government of the Directory at home and abroad had been
continually manifested; there were internal disorders due to royalist
insurrections, which seemed for a time most threatening in the
southwest, in the Garonne valley, while at Paris the radicals, who
represented what was left of the Terrorist element, were restless
under a system which they charged with disloyalty to the revolutionary
tradition. There was, besides, no harmony between the legislative and
executive organs of government; the Directors were not respected, some
being manifestly incompetent, others, like Barras, mere intriguers.

With this weakness at home there had been displayed towards other
European powers a consistent policy of provocation and aggression. To
all of its weaker neighbors, France, in the hands of the Directory,
played the rôle of an absolute dictator; all of them were to be forced,
willing or unwilling, to organize themselves on the model of the French
Republic. Napoleon had set the fashion in Italy; this example was
followed through French influence and by French aggression. When the
Swiss cantons rose to defend their ancient rights, they met with no
more consideration than the absolute monarch, King Charles Emmanuel IV
of Piedmont, whose Italian dominions were annexed to France, or the
clerical oligarchy of Rome, who had to see themselves despoiled of
their temporal power, when the Roman Republic was proclaimed from the
Forum by General Berthier.

A new European coalition was brought into existence to resist the
general movement of French expansion and to restore the Bourbon
monarchy by invading French territory. Much was hoped from the
accession of Russia, which along with Austria, engaged to put in the
field the largest masses of men. At the opening of the campaign the
French met discouraging defeats; Italy was soon lost through the
inability of the French generals to withstand the united Russians and
Austrians. In Switzerland, Masséna, by brilliant strategy kept the
coalition armies in check; while by the superior initiative of a much
smaller French force, a British army, operating in Holland, was obliged
to sign an ignominious treaty and to evacuate Dutch territory.

With some of these vicissitudes of the Directorial government, Napoleon
became acquainted at a dinner, at which he and Sidney Smith met to
discuss matters relative to the exchange of prisoners and where the
commander of the French army in Egypt received the public papers and
letters intended for him which had been seized by English warships.
Napoleon saw the necessity of leaving Egypt, where he was cooped up
by an English fleet, and also he must have realized that the chance
of a permanent French occupation was infinitesimal. With a few of his
generals he left the country suddenly on the 22d of August, 1799,
and, avoiding by skilful navigation the danger of being captured by
the British warships, disembarked on French soil at Fréjus on October
16th. All parties greeted his return; his trip to Paris was a triumph;
the _Moniteur_ reported that the crowd on the roads was so great that
vehicular traffic was completely blocked. All the places through
which he passed from Fréjus as far as Paris were illuminated. Even
the Directory disguised their real feelings and gave the hero of the
Egyptian campaign a cordial welcome back. Bonaparte won much favor by
a discreet modesty of demeanor, ingratiating himself with the generals
who were defending France against the coalition, while he represented
the Egyptian campaign as an affair undertaken simply for scientific
purposes. His popularity was as unrestrained as it was real. The press
was filled with stories about him; he dressed as an ordinary citizen
rather than as a soldier, wearing a semi-civilian costume at social
functions.

But under this ingenuous pose much political intriguing was being
set in motion. Napoleon, who was described by one of his brothers
as “just as much a manipulator as a general,” was planning with
Director Siéyès, now recognized as the chief political expert, to
be called in to prepare a new constitution. Napoleon cared nothing
for constitutions, but he was glad to have Siéyès’s influence in
overturning the Directory. Siéyès, on his side, recognized the civic
virtues of his friend, General Bonaparte, but at the same time
anticipated that the result of all this scheming would be to establish
him in a position where he would exercise sole autocratic rule.

As to whether the opportunity was favorable, there was a difficulty.
France was no longer directly menaced by the coalition since the
splendid campaign of Masséna in Switzerland; besides, the royalist
insurrections had been suppressed, and the extremists muzzled. The
middle classes, to whom the wealth of the nation now belonged, felt
secure. At this time the Prussian Minister at Paris wrote that
confidence was being restored throughout the country, and that
even religious dissensions had become less acute. Some of the most
questionable and unpopular legislation, passed against the fortunes and
persons of citizens who were suspected by the Directory, was on the
point of being withdrawn by the legislative body. The debate on these
measures was to conclude on the 17th Brumaire.

There was a difference between the two bodies of the legislature on the
question of the change of the constitution. The more popular chamber
distrusted Siéyès and passed upon him an indirect vote of censure of
a severe character, by threatening with death anyone who proposed to
alter the existing form of government. Apparently Napoleon’s share in
Siéyès’s scheme was not suspected, for the Five Hundred named as their
speaker Lucien Bonaparte, who had taken an oath to stab to death anyone
aiming to make himself dictator. The complicity of various generals
being assured by Bonaparte, Siéyès, who could count on the inactivity
or sympathy of his fellow-Directors, proceeded to set the machinery in
motion by which the government was to be overthrown. When the Ancients
met, they listened to a vague harangue by one of Siéyès’s adherents,
who spoke of a conspiracy, by which the country was threatened, the
intimation being conveyed that it was instigated by some foreign power.
To escape from impending danger a resolution was offered that both
houses should meet outside Paris on the 19th of Brumaire at St. Cloud,
and that the command of the troops in Paris should be turned over to
Bonaparte.

As soon as this was done, there was a great display of military
activity. The city was placed in a state of siege, and care was
taken that the minority of the Directors should be kept as virtual
prisoners in the Luxembourg. The opponents of the change in the Five
Hundred had time enough to prepare for resistance, and they did
not propose to annul the existing constitution on the basis of a
rumor. Napoleon appeared first before the Ancients, where he made an
incoherent speech, and showed himself unable to name the conspirators
he charged with disloyalty against the country. When he was ushered
into the Hall where the Five Hundred were in session, the whole body
had just sworn allegiance to the Directorial Constitution. Walking
between four grenadiers, his diminutive figure added no gravity to the
scene; he was pale, disturbed, and undecided. The members refused to
listen to him, and cried “outlaw” or “down with the traitor.” It is
alleged that in the tumult daggers were drawn, and that Napoleon was
in personal danger, as his adversaries closed round him. But all that
happened, according to the most reliable witnesses, was that Napoleon
and his escort were jostled and finally ejected from the hall. One
grenadier, it is known, had the sleeve of his coat torn. Lucien, who
rose to defend his brother, was hissed, and finally gave up his place
as presiding officer. Another conspirator, when he refused to pass
a motion depriving Napoleon of his command, was replaced by Lucien
Bonaparte, who, on his part, collapsed from the nervous strain when
he was bidden to put the motion declaring Napoleon an outlaw. He was
allowed to go out and find his brother, so that the whole matter might
be peaceably settled without extreme measures being taken.

In the meantime the leading conspirator, Napoleon, was suffering
from a nervous crisis. When he was outside the hall, he appeared to
observers as if he were walking in his sleep; upon trying to address
his troops from horseback, he fell to the ground. Lucien just then
came on the scene and conveyed him to a room in the palace, where
Siéyès said to him: “They wish to put you outside the law; we’ll
put them outside the hall.” The story of the display of daggers was
now concocted, and Napoleon’s troops were told of the danger their
commander had been in. Lucien directed the soldiers to go into the hall
and clear out the legislature. This order was executed by two companies
of armed grenadiers, who, despite the protests of the deputies, pushed
them good-humoredly out of the building, taking some of the members who
resisted, in their arms.

The Ancients set forward their part of the revolution by voting the
suppression of the Directory, by appointing an executive commission
of three members, and by demanding the adjournment of the whole
legislative body. But to give the transaction a specious form of
legality, Lucien called some of the members of the Five Hundred
together, and they, under his direction, proceeded to behave as if
they were a majority. An executive consular commission was appointed,
composed of Siéyès, Ducas, and Bonaparte, to be called the Consuls
of the French Republic. During the adjournment of the legislature,
the powers of that body were to be exercised by a commission composed
of twenty-five members of each branch. These two commissions were
to decide on the measures initiated by the Consuls in matters of
administration and finance and also on the changes in the constitution
required to free it from its imperfections. This proposal was accepted
by the Ancients, and the three Consuls swore to be faithful to the
republic, one and undivided, to liberty, to equality, and to the
representative system.

The news of the suppression of the Directorial régime caused suspense,
but little excitement. People were puzzled rather than alarmed; there
had been so many transformations since 1789 that one more seemed
hardly irregular. Besides, the Directory had often violated their own
constitution; hence the illegality in their suppression was regarded
as nothing strange. The Paris workmen stayed quietly in their quarters;
there was no Jacobin Club to champion the cause of the radicals or to
act as a center of protest. Financial circles were reassured, when
government securities rose; there was a difference of seven francs
between the quotations on the 17th Brumaire and 24th of the same month.

The royalists were happy, for they were naïve enough to believe that
Napoleon would play the rôle of General Monk in a Bourbon restoration.
On the whole, at Paris and in the country, the masses of the people
were apathetic; some clubs here and there protested and called upon the
citizens to arm themselves in defense of the dead government, while
some departmental officials were dismissed, because they questioned the
legality of the changes at Paris. But nowhere was there anything like
an uprising in behalf of the Directory, which too forcibly recalled the
terrible years of revolutionary experience.




IV THE FIRST CONSUL


The provisional consuls remained in control from November 11 to
December 24, 1799. Napoleon presided at the first meeting because
his name began with “B,” it having been arranged that the consular
power should be exercised in alphabetical order. The Consuls seemed
to have no more authority than the Directors they had superseded.
Governmental policy was still anonymous. Napoleon never appeared in
public life except with his two colleagues, and his influence was
exerted altogether in military affairs, in which he exercised the
functions that Carnot had held under the Committee of Public Safety.
He dressed as a civilian, not as a general. Moreover, the Consuls
showed themselves most conciliatory; they published no magniloquent
program and behaved as if the lawlessness which had ushered in their
rule was something foreign to their own desires. No one talked of a
military dictatorship; there was, indeed, a studied moderation in the
new government. It is true a few Jacobins were placed under police
supervision, but some of the members of the revolutionary convention
were used as agents to reassure the good republicans throughout the
country. Among the deputies who had been expelled on the famous 19th
Brumaire, several made their peace with the government, while the
irreconcilables carefully avoided any overt acts in opposing it. The
republican tradition was maintained by manifestoes against superstition
and the émigrés. An era of good feeling was now ushered in most
auspiciously.

Napoleon seemed to be content with the rôle of a Washington, but
the moment he saw there was no fear of resistance he took steps to
secure the adoption of a constitution fitted to make him the master
of France. The machinery for this purpose was near at hand in the two
legislative commissions mentioned above. Siéyès was working hard on
a model constitution which was to be a marvelous harmony of various
democratic principles. According to this scheme the people were to draw
up a list of candidates, while an elector chose from the list those who
should carry on the administration. The government was placed in the
hands of a Council of State, there were additional bodies to act as
representatives or as checks to keep the proper balance and to repress
personal ambition and demagoguery. There was, besides this, a scheme to
revive the Directory with the names of its constituent parts changed.

Bonaparte, who saw no chance for personal rule in either of these
proposals, organized a small sub-committee to which he presented
a scheme of his own, that never really went before either of the
committees in a regular session, but was signed individually by the
members under pressure from him. It was carefully planned, but the
project that had such an irregular origin was nothing more than a
sham constitution. It contained no declaration of rights and had no
reference to liberty of the press. But the most shrewdly planned
scheme for centralizing the power in the hands of one man was revealed
in the so-called electoral provisions, by which the citizens of each
district prepared, by voting for one-tenth of their number, a communal
list from which all officials were to be selected. This system was
carried through several gradations, until a national list was reached,
from which all the higher popular representatives were to be chosen.
The right of nomination from these various lists was conferred, in
vague and ambiguous language, upon the First Consul. After the lists
were once drawn up no further change could be made in these provisions.

Bonaparte transferred to himself the right of appointing all the
local officials, the members of municipal and departmental councils,
and so by a stroke of his pen deprived France of all trace of
local government. His plan brought into existence an intensified
centralization such as the country had not known, even under the
ancient monarchy. All laws had to be proposed by the executive
government; among the various representative bodies, the Senate,
Council of State, Tribunate, and Legislative bodies, power was so
divided that no single one had an effective initiative.

All the real power was placed by the constitution under the control of
the First Consul. According to Article 41, the First Consul promulgated
the laws; he nominated and recalled at will the members of the Council
of State, ministers, ambassadors and chief foreign agents, the officers
of the army and navy, the members of the local administration, and the
legal solicitors of the government. He named all the civil and communal
judges of the Court of Appeal. As to the second and third Consuls, they
had only a consultative share in the executive power; to the Senate was
given the function of selecting the three Consuls, but the constitution
itself designated those who were to be invested with the authority for
the first period of ten years. They were Bonaparte, Cambacérès, and Le
Brun.

The constitution was presented to the people for a “plébiscite;” that
is each citizen was to inscribe opposite his name on a register “yes”
or “no.” But this was not done everywhere on the same day; in fact,
it lasted several weeks, and so there was time to put pressure on
different localities, and also an arrangement was made by which the
new government was installed before the plébiscite was completed. Most
Frenchmen wanted peace at home and abroad, and as the government was
adopting a general policy of reconciliation, they were glad to give it
their support, all the more because they had no real constitutional
traditions and were sick of emotionalism and rhetoric. The result of
the voting was 3,011,007 ayes and only 1562 noes. Among those on the
affirmative side were a number of sturdy Jacobins.

In his administration, Bonaparte relied chiefly on the Council of
State; he was in close relations with them, because all laws had to
be drawn up in this body. He often presided at their meetings and
in his remarks to them explained his ideas and his program. He did
not hesitate to treat their projects as actual laws, although the
constitution provided for a submission to other representative bodies.

One of the first acts of the new régime was the passing of severe press
laws. Thirteen papers were allowed in Paris, but they were threatened
with suppression if they published articles contrary to the respect
due to the social compact, the sovereignty of the people, and the
glory of the armies; or if they published attacks on the government
or on nations friendly or allied with the Republic, even if the
articles in question were taken from the foreign press. This enactment
of 27 Nivose, year VIII, may be justly said to have inaugurated the
Napoleonic despotism.

Another law presented and accepted was a measure which destroyed all
communal and local rights, and turned over the whole administration
in town and country to prefects and sub-prefects, appointed by, and
responsible to, the central government. Mayors, acting mayors, and town
and county councilmen were all appointed by either the First Consul or
his appointees, the prefects.

The body known as the Tribunate, which discussed the laws and gave
its opinion upon them, and the Legislative Chamber, which voted upon
them without discussion, adopted this measure, the first with a strong
minority against it, who voiced, by vigorous speeches, their protests
against the suppression of all liberty. But the press was muzzled,
and there was general satisfaction because of the admirable selection
made by Napoleon for the subordinate officials. The new administration
was simple and effective, and had not yet shown the possibilities of
tyranny it contained.

As to the First Consul, though he took up his residence in the
Tuileries, there was no consular court; republican etiquette was
observed, and the title of citizen was still retained. When the news
of Washington’s death reached Paris, mourning was ordered in the name
of the principles of liberty and equality. But the new tendencies
were shown in the favor extended by the First Consul to men of strong
monarchical sympathies. Napoleon, however, was soon occupied with more
momentous questions than the discovery of fresh means to paralyze
republican institutions in France.

After the withdrawal of Russia from the anti-French coalition,--a step
which was due to the victories of Masséna,--Austria, England, and
some of the lesser states of Italy and Germany, kept up the conflict.
Bonaparte had no desire to see the war terminated, but he so far bowed
to public sentiment as to write letters to the King of England and
to Francis II, the Emperor, suggesting a cessation of hostilities.
England refused to make peace except on the condition that the Bourbons
should be restored, and Austria declined to take any action without the
consent of her ally. The publication of the correspondence appealed to
French patriotism, and the answer of the nation was a vote of 200,000
conscripts to carry on the war.

For the purpose of invading France, Austria had two armies in the
field, each of 120,000 men. The French forces under Moreau and Masséna
were told off to keep the Austrians in check in Germany and along the
Italian Riviera; Bonaparte himself planned with a third army to drive
them out of Italy, in a second campaign which was to be the replica of
his first in Italy. Both Moreau and Masséna showed great capacity in
carrying out the strategical plans assigned to them. Bonaparte gathered
together an army of 60,000 and suddenly crossed the St. Bernard pass
by a march in which the French engineers showed remarkable skill in
overcoming the natural difficulties of the way. The commander-in-chief
made the passage on the back of a mule, as many tourists still do, led
by a peasant-guide of the neighborhood. On the top, the soldiers were
hospitably received at the famous monastery. The chief problem was to
get the artillery over, and this was done by dismounting the guns and
fastening them within hollowed-out trunks of trees. They were then
dragged along the precipitous path by relays of 100 men.

While the Austrian general, Melas, was looking for the French along the
Riviera road, Bonaparte was making his entrance into Milan, where the
stupid excesses of recent Austrian rule had made the population forget
the more intelligent or subtle tyranny of the French conqueror. Instead
of rescuing Masséna, who was suffering the extremities of a siege at
Genoa, he preferred to leave him to his fate and to risk deciding the
campaign by a pitched battle with an enemy much stronger in numbers
than himself. These hazards were plainly seen in the engagement that
followed at Marengo on June 14, 1800. Three times the French were
forced to withdraw, and Melas was sending off couriers to announce
his victory, when Desaix, who had been sent, the day before, to Novi
to prevent a turning movement on the part of the Austrians, heard the
cannonading and came to the aid of his leader. A fresh charge was made,
and the ground that had been lost was regained. The first to fall was
Desaix, the man who had saved the day. The effect of the victory was
instantaneous, for the day afterward, Melas signed an armistice, by
which warfare was to be stopped for five months, in which time the
Austrians were to evacuate the whole of Italy as far as the Mincio.

When the war was resumed later, French successes continued, until
finally the whole of the Italian peninsula was brought once more under
French control. After Marengo, the decisive battle of the campaign,
which brought Austria to sue for peace, was Moreau’s victory at
Hohenlinden, the 2d of December, 1800, on which occasion the Austrians
lost in killed and wounded 20,000 men. The victory brought forth from
Bonaparte the public acknowledgment, made before the legislative body,
that Hohenlinden was one of the finest achievements in history, and
he also wrote to Moreau saying that he, Bonaparte himself, had been
outdone. He afterwards criticised Moreau, and ascribed his victory to
mere chance, saying that his opponent, the archduke, had shown greater
strategical ability than the commander of the French army.

As the result of these various operations, came the peace of Lunéville,
February, 1801, which marked the complete humiliation of Austria.
In its main lines it followed the stipulations of Campo Formio, but
it added the demand that the Dutch and Swiss republics should be
recognized as states under French protection. Moreover, the Pope was
allowed to retain some of his territory, and the King of Naples also
benefited by Napoleon’s moderation towards monarchical governments.

England, now left alone as the sole enemy of France, had been enabled,
by her control of the sea, to make a clean sweep of the French
colonies. She acquired Malta, and forced the French to abandon Egypt.
But English supremacy at sea was resented on the Continent, a league
of neutrals was formed, and the Russian government showed distinct
signs of drawing towards France, after the refusal of England to
restore Malta to its ancient owners, the Knights of St. John. Portugal
was detached from England, and Spain was brought into such friendly
relations that she ceded to France the territory of Louisiana, which
had been in her possession since 1763.

England’s isolation was unpopular at home because the enormous
accumulation of war debts was dreaded, and the threats of Napoleon
to invade the country were taken seriously, after he had established
an armed camp at Boulogne. William Pitt, the soul of resistance to
France, had left the government on account of differences over the
Irish question. His successor, Addington, was not averse to coming
to an agreement. After the signing of certain preliminaries in London
the terms of peace, as the result of a five months’ discussion between
Lord Cornwallis and Joseph Bonaparte at Amiens, took the form of a
treaty named from that place on March 25, 1802, between France, Spain,
and the Dutch republic on one side, and England on the other. Most of
the colonial conquests made by England were restored to their owners.
Egypt was returned to Turkey, and England agreed to return Malta to the
Knights of St. John and at the same time undertook not to interfere in
the internal affairs of Holland, Germany, Switzerland, and the Italian
republics.

Bonaparte became the hero of peace as he had been already of war.
His popularity, due to his splendid achievements on the battlefield,
was now enhanced by the victories of French diplomacy. His rule was
firmly established; a new era of harmony and happiness seemed to
be opening up under his auspices. His unconstitutional methods of
government were forgotten in the brilliancy of his successes. But
there were many things that showed his anti-republican animus, and
his mania for autocratic rule. Before he set out for the Austrian
campaign three Paris papers were suppressed, and censorship for the
theaters was reintroduced. His taking command of the army was a step
not contemplated by the constitution of which he was the author. While
he was absent, it is true that the executive power was placed in the
hands of Cambacérès, who proved so efficient that Bonaparte hurried
back to Paris, immediately after Marengo, in order to resume the reins
of government.

The members of the Tribunate showed their feelings by eulogizing
the heroism of Desaix and relegating the First Consul to a second
place. But Bonaparte’s return from Italy called forth a great wave of
enthusiasm throughout the masses of the nation, that showed him he
could go far in repressing the opposition of the republican party,
which was strongly intrenched in the Tribunate. On December 24, 1800,
the life of the chief executive had been endangered by a plot, and
while Bonaparte was driving to the opera there was an explosion by
which four people were killed and sixty wounded near his carriage.

Though it was clear that the authors of the outrage were royalist
sympathizers, Bonaparte insisted that the Jacobins were its
instigators, and took this opportunity of diminishing the ranks of
the opposition by an edict of the Council of State, executed without
the sanction of the Tribunate and Legislative Body, that deported 130
republicans to distant colonial possessions. Towards other less known
opponents harsh measures were used, some of them being executed on
charges of conspiracy, trumped up by the police. Even the wives and
widows of former revolutionary leaders were imprisoned without trial,
and fifty-two citizens notorious for their democratic sentiments were
forbidden to reside in Paris or its neighborhood.

In certain parts of the country royalist brigands were at work,
wreaking vengeance on individuals who had taken an active part in the
revolution or pillaging the houses of those who had bought confiscated
property. Taking advantage of the demand for increased security against
such outrages, Bonaparte created special tribunals, in which the
judges were partly army officers, authorized to deal with all crimes
of a nature calculated to disturb the government. With such elastic
provisions, it was easy to turn the machinery of these courts against
obnoxious republicans. There was no appeal against the decision made by
this body except on the ground of jurisdiction. In this way a sort of
revolutionary tribunal was erected, which Bonaparte could use for the
purpose of wreaking his own personal vengeance.

Opposition in the so-called representative bodies was crippled by
various clever devices. For example, after the return from Italy, when
the period had come for the retirement by lot of a fixed number of
representatives in the Tribunate and the Legislative Body, the Senate,
which was loyal because filled by nomination of the second and third
Consuls, intervened and designated those of the representative chambers
who should continue to hold office. In this way 320 men, who had made
themselves obnoxious by their criticism or by their opposition, were
got rid of. Yet even after this purification all independence was not
destroyed. It was necessary to employ devious methods to secure for
Bonaparte, after the peace of Amiens, his appointment as Consul for
life. When the matter was proposed by Cambacérès, so often used as
the First Consul’s agent rather than as his colleague, the Tribunate
intimated that the recompenses for the First Consul’s services should
be purely honorary. Even the Senate contented itself with re-electing
Bonaparte for another term as First Consul in advance of the expiration
of his first term of office.

Upon this Bonaparte wrote to the Senate that he preferred to appeal
to the people to know if he should impose upon himself the sacrifice
of prolonging his magistracy. Using the more pliable Council of
State, Cambacérès extracted from them an edict for a plébiscite to
be submitted to the people, who were asked whether the First Consul
should be named for life and whether he should be allowed to designate
his successor. After these illegal preliminaries, for there was no
formal authority for the plébiscite from the representative bodies, the
single question of the consulate for life was voted upon on August 2,
1802, with the result that there were 3,568,885 affirmative votes and
8374 negative. The increase in affirmative votes of 500,000 over the
plébiscite of two years before, shows how many royalists had rallied to
the consular system, in response to the favor shown them by the amnesty
lately given to émigrés and to manifest their appreciation of the
Concordat by which the First Consul had made his peace with the Church.

It is significant that on the registers almost none of the names of
members of the Constituent Assembly or of the Convention appear. The
men of 1789 had accepted the Consulate two years before, but they now
abstained from voting. Of the negative votes most came from the army.
At Ajaccio, Bonaparte’s native city, out of 300 men of the garrison
there were 66 noes. Among others, Lafayette voted against the project,
stating in a letter to Bonaparte that the 19th Brumaire had saved
France, that the dictatorship had healed its ills, but that he did not
wish to accept, as the final result of the revolution, an “arbitrary
government.”

The next step was to secure the right of appointing a successor.
Bonaparte had shown at first an apparent reluctance to accept the
suggestion, when it was made as a proposition to be submitted to the
people. Now, when it was made a part of a measure entitled “Organic
changes in the Constitution of the year VIII” (i.e., 1800), it was
passed without any real debate by the Council of State and accepted
by the Senate without discussion. At the same time it was arranged
that nominations to the Senate were to be made from a list prepared by
the First Consul; this practically meant, as the Senate’s membership
was still far short of its full quota, that the right assigned to it
of accepting or rejecting the successor of the First Consul was only
nominal. This situation of dependence made the Senate a useful body to
Bonaparte; accordingly its constitutional powers were increased, it
being given among other new prerogatives the right of dissolving the
Tribunate and the Legislative Body. The Senate’s omnipotence simply
concealed the figure of the First Consul, who set his puppets there in
motion.

So reconstructed, the whole machine worked marvelously. The Council
of State, after showing signs of independence, was made a purely
decorative body, its real power being handed over to a private council
named by the First Consul. The Tribunate was to be reduced to fifty
members after a short interval. All relics of direct popular election
disappeared, and to the functions of the First Consul were added the
rights of ratifying treaties and remitting judicial sentences.

As a sop to public opinion, the number of electors, who chose the lists
of candidates from which were selected the officials in the local and
central government, was increased, largely by doing away with the
property qualification, a curious feature of the early more radical
republican constitutions. There were, it is true, elections, electors,
and elected candidates, but all were under the direct or indirect
control of the arch manipulator, the First Consul, who crowned the
whole system.

From this period begins the departure from the external signs of
republican simplicity. The First Consul was no longer Citizen
Bonaparte, but Napoleon Bonaparte; the anniversary of his birth was
celebrated by a ministerial decree. Like a sovereign the new ruler
had his civil list, and in his residence, the Tuileries, he began to
display the ostentatious character of court life. Military dress was
abandoned, and it began to be the fashion again to wear one’s hair
in a cue and to use powder, although the First Consul still appeared
with his own hair dressed in the revolutionary manner. Josephine took
much interest in reorganizing her household after the model of the old
régime; in the exercise of her taste she was allowed to go far, but it
was remarked that women had no political influence in the new court.

Judged by contemporary opinion, one of the plainest steps taken by
Bonaparte towards a monarchy was the inauguration of the Legion of
Honor, having at its head the First Consul, assisted by a great
council, subordinate to which there were 1500 posts, each with 27
officers of various degrees, and 350 legionaries. This institution,
which was endowed by national funds, was composed of members
distinguished by their services to the Republic either as soldiers or
as civilians. They pledged themselves among other things to oppose any
enterprise tending to re-establish the feudal system, or proposing to
reproduce the titles and the characteristics by which feudalism was
marked, and to do everything in their power to maintain liberty and
equality.

But these republican sentiments did not protect the measure from
criticism. It was opposed both in the Council of State and in the
Tribunate, where there was only a majority of sixteen in its favor when
it was finally passed. Even the Legislative Body made difficulties,
as is seen in their recorded vote of 170 for and 110 against. But it
was not only from such shadows of representative government as were
still permitted to linger on, that opposition came to Bonaparte’s
personal rule. Moreau, the hero of the Hohenlinden campaign, was known
to have sturdy republican sentiments. Moreover, there was Bernadotte,
the commander of the eastern army, who was openly discontented and was
supposed by many to have instigated a plot against the First Consul at
Rennes. There were, indeed, a series of military plots at this time,
but the knowledge of their existence was suppressed by the government,
whose object it was to impress on public opinion at home and abroad the
popularity of the consular system.

The Legislative Body and the Tribunate busied themselves with
subordinate affairs such as laws governing the practice of medicine
and the organization of a notary public system. In the Senate the
hand of the First Consul was seen in the liberal financial provisions
for certain senators, who were allowed a suitable house and 25,000
francs annual income. Of course the selection of the beneficiaries of
these favors was left to the First Consul. There was no reluctance in
voting money and troops for the defense of the state, for by this time
Bonaparte’s personal policy and the national interests were closely
identified.

This feeling of loyalty was all the more intensified when, after war
broke out again with England, the British government took a hand in
encouraging the schemes of various royalist groups. Among these were
some irreconcilable survivors of the Vendéan insurrection, led by
Cadoudal, who planned to remove Bonaparte by assassination, after which
it was assumed that a Bourbon restoration would follow as a matter of
course. Pichegru, an old revolutionary general, was an accomplice, and
the conspirators made an effort to secure the coöperation of Moreau,
but failed. Learning through his spies of this invitation, and glad of
a plea to rid himself of a rival, Bonaparte had Moreau arrested, though
he knew his innocence, and instigated a bitter press campaign against
him. Police agents encouraged the plot, hoping that some of the Bourbon
princes, certain of its success, might cross from England to France, in
expectation of Bonaparte’s death.

In this atmosphere of plots, Bonaparte seems to have lost his head,
and to have descended to the weapons of revenge handed down among the
clansmen of his native island when they settled their domestic feuds.
One member of the Bourbon house was from this point of view as good
as any other, when it was a question of proving the capacity of the
government to deal with its monarchical enemies. The nearest victim
was selected for a stroke worthy of Cæsar Borgia--the Duke d’Enghien,
a distant relative of the direct heirs of the old monarchy, who had
been living quietly for two years at Ettenheim in Baden. A detachment
of dragoons was sent across the frontier, into the territory of a small
state, at peace with France, and arrested the young prince, March 15,
1804. The papers that were found showed clearly that the Duke was not
involved in the plot in any way, but in spite of this evidence of
non-culpability, he was tried by a commission made up of colonels of
the regiments of the Paris garrison.

The prisoner was shot six days after his arrest, the sentence being
executed at the château of Vincennes. Though freed from any complicity
in the Pichegru plot, the Duke d’Enghien had tried to enter the
service of England against France; he had also fought against the
French Republic as an émigré, so whatever may be said in criticism of
the abject subservience of the officers who acted as judges in the
court-martial, it must be remembered that the law of the revolutionary
period, by which the death penalty was inflicted upon any Frenchman
engaged in open warfare against his country, had never been abrogated.
Probably it was to this justification of his act that Napoleon referred
when he refused to listen to Josephine’s entreaties in behalf of the
Bourbon prince. “I am,” he said, “a man of the State. I am the French
Revolution, and I shall uphold it.” These words were spoken in a moment
of typical exaltation. After many years had passed he commented in the
following way on his action: “The deserved death of the Duc d’Enghien
hurt Napoleon in public opinion, and was of no use to him politically.”
There soon followed a report of Pichegru’s suicide in his prison, a way
of accounting for his death which, after the execution of the Bourbon
Duke, it was hard to accept as satisfactory. Many believed that he was
assassinated at Bonaparte’s command because the publicity of an open
trial was dreaded.




V THE INAUGURATION OF THE EMPIRE


From the excitement caused by these conspiracies came the movement
which led to the inauguration of the empire. Petitions were drawn up
asking that the consulate should be made hereditary in the Bonaparte
family; there was considerable reluctance in using explicitly the
word “empire,” and there was much wavering and intrigue before a
member of the Tribunate, Curie, offered a resolution on the 23rd of
April, 1804, according to the terms of which Napoleon Bonaparte, the
then First Consul, should be declared Emperor of the French, and the
imperial dignity should remain hereditary in his family. Carnot was
the only member who argued against the change, but his plea in behalf
of a régime of liberty found no supporters, though he pointed out in
frank language that the movement in favor of hereditary monarchy was
fictitious, because freedom of the press no longer existed. The Senate
acted quickly on the motion from the one popular body that now was in
session, for the Legislative Body was adjourned. A decree establishing
the imperial constitution was passed on May 18, 1804. The measure was
to be submitted to popular approval, but from the date of its passage
Bonaparte received the title of Emperor of the French, and the empire
actually came into existence. The international situation played a
considerable part in forcing the abandonment of the few remaining
vestiges of a republican system. Bonaparte had no desire to maintain
for any length of time the pose of an apostle of peace, which for the
sake of popularity he had assumed, while the negotiations at Amiens
were in progress. England, too, had no wish to fulfil the engagements
of that treaty, by which her power would be diminished. She was
interested in keeping both Malta and Alexandria, and her promise of
non-intervention on the Continent was very liberally interpreted by her
government.

In the light of Bonaparte’s own policy a strict interpretation of
engagements would have been indeed a counsel of perfection, for his
plans for the expansion of France were not modeled on the traditions of
the eighteenth-century system of balance of power. He had schemes for
controlling the Mississippi valley, and he also elaborated a revival
of French colonial policy in which the possession of San Domingo was
the chief factor. When the revolted slaves of that island made it
impossible for the French troops to keep French administration intact,
Bonaparte gave up the enterprise, and sold Louisiana to the United
States for 80,000,000 francs. French agents and officers were sent to
the east of the Mediterranean and to India, with instructions obviously
intended to work for the downfall of British power and influence.
Only a month after the treaty of Amiens was signed, General Decaen,
notorious for his Anglophobia, was despatched to India, with secret
instructions to get into touch with the Indian princes who were hostile
to England’s rule, with the object of forming an alliance among them.
Moreover, the official government paper, the _Moniteur_, took no pains
to disguise the intention of the First Consul to organize, on the first
opportunity, a second expedition for the conquest of Egypt.

On the continent of Europe, too, French aggression proceeded without
any disguise. Holland had virtually become a French dependency; and
it was now endowed with a consular régime. In Italy, Victor Emmanuel,
the King of Sardinia, was deposed, and his territories were annexed to
France. Not contented with being president of the Cisalpine Republic,
Bonaparte treated the rest of the peninsula as a subject territory
and sent garrisons to the south to important points in the Kingdom of
Naples. Just as plain was his attitude towards Switzerland, where he
made use of the internal dissensions in the cantons to increase French
influence. He told the Swiss delegates, when he had selected himself
to act as mediator in their disputes, that Europe recognized Italy,
Holland, and Switzerland as being under French control. “I will never
tolerate,” he added, “any other influence in Switzerland but mine, if
it is to cost me 100,000 men.”

As to Germany, the rôle of protector and disposer of the smaller German
states was ostentatiously assumed. Russia, which had been given by the
treaty of Lunéville conjoint power with France in the rearrangement of
the petty German principalities, was treated with small consideration.
The work was done by Bonaparte, and its drastic character can be
measured by the statistics of the changes carried out under French
direction. In the eighteenth century there were from eighteen to
nineteen hundred autonomous sovereignties in Germany; only thirty-nine
survived in Bonaparte’s “New Model,” among them being six free cities
and one ecclesiastical domain. By these changes Prussia profited
considerably, but even more so Bavaria, because of its well-known
friendship for France.

Under the cover of the Peace of Amiens, Bonaparte had become dictator
of a large part of Europe. Accordingly, when Lord Whitworth, the
English ambassador, protested in the name of the existing treaties,
Bonaparte replied, “I suppose you refer to Piedmont and Switzerland;
they are trifles; this could have been foreseen during the
negotiations.” The German publicist, Gentz, summarized the situation,
without exaggerating it. “France,” he said, “has no longer any
frontiers, since all that surrounds it is in fact, if not yet in name,
its property and domain, or will become so at the first opportunity.”

On its side, England was far from scrupulous in observing the terms of
the Amiens convention, and showed notorious unfriendliness to France
in encouraging the various royalist plots against Bonaparte’s life.
Besides, the terms of the treaty were not carried out as regards the
evacuation of Malta or as to the conditions made for restoring to the
French certain towns in India. What was especially irritating to the
British government and people was Bonaparte’s plan to develop French
industry by adopting a protective system. He not only refused to sign
any treaty of commerce with England, but took active measures to close
the ports of France and of the states dependent on her to the products
of English industry. A violent press campaign was inaugurated in London
against the policy of the Consulate, couched in unsparing language
against Bonaparte’s character and ambitions. He, on his side, took up
a truculent attitude, saying in so many words that England’s effort to
secure new allies would force him to conquer Europe and to revive the
Empire of the West.

In the spring of 1803, the final rupture came with a message from
George III that the security of England was menaced by France. The
outbreak of hostilities was marked by the seizure on England’s side,
without any declaration of war, of 1200 French and Dutch merchant
ships. Bonaparte replied to this act of piracy by another in kind,
though a more original violation of international justice; he arrested
all the subjects of England who were to be found on French territory,
and prohibited the purchase of any article of British manufacture. The
next step was to prepare for an invasion of England from the Channel
ports and for the military occupation of Hanover, an appanage of the
British crown. On the Continent, Pitt formed an alliance against the
aggressions of France, known as the Third Coalition. Austria, Prussia,
Sweden, and Naples prepared to act together, the chief military
contingents being supplied by Austria with three armies amounting in
all to 130,000 men, and by Russia, which promised four armies.

As England controlled the sea power, Bonaparte’s preparations to invade
it were futile, though 2343 transports were collected, and for many
months an army of 120,000 were kept in training for the passage over
the Channel. But there was no adequate protecting fleet, and the French
officers showed no ability in using the vessels under their command.
The entrance to the Channel was guarded by English ships; all the
French ports were blockaded, and Villeneuve, the French admiral, in
an engagement off Trafalgar, was decisively beaten by Nelson, with a
loss of twenty men-of-war, out of a combined French and Spanish fleet
of thirty-five. Villeneuve was made the scapegoat for the failure of
the plan to invade England, but the scheme was a chimerical one from
the start, viewed in the light of the experiences of French armies in
San Domingo and in Egypt, where they were cut off from their base.
Many critics are, therefore, willing to believe that Napoleon was not
sorry to have been relieved by the loss of his fleet from undertaking a
spectacular but most hazardous adventure.

Before the battle of Trafalgar, October 20, 1805, while Napoleon
was at Boulogne, he dictated a plan evidently the result of long
consideration, containing the most exact details for the march of
his army to the Danube. In the meantime, the Austrians had invaded
Bavaria, had taken possession of Ulm, and were awaiting the French in
the defiles of the Black Forest. With wonderful speed, precision, and
secrecy enveloping operations were carried out, by which Mack, the
Austrian general, who supposed the French army was near Strassburg,
when it had already cut his communications far to the east of his
forces, was surrounded and forced to capitulate. In this short campaign
of three weeks, 100,000 Austrians had been dispersed by remarkable
strategical movements, extending over a stretch of country several
hundred miles wide. Not an error had been committed, not a combination
had failed. The soldiers truly said, “The Emperor has beaten the enemy
by our legs.”

Now that the Austrians were destroyed as a military entity, the
Russian armies in Austria remained to be attacked. By a series of
forced marches Vienna was reached by the middle of November without
any general engagement. The plan of the Austrian and Russian generals
was to cut off Napoleon, when he advanced farther into the heart of
the empire, in much the same way as he had treated Mack. They had the
advantage in numbers, for the French army now was only 68,000, while
the allies had 90,000. The co-operation of Prussia was expected by the
allies, if the Russians could win a victory, and with this additional
strength it was hoped that the whole French army would ultimately be
forced to capitulate.

But Napoleon moved from Vienna with great rapidity and brought on a
decisive engagement at Austerlitz. Everything was done to increase the
confidence of the allies. They knew that the French were reduced, by
the detaching of thousands of men, needed to occupy Vienna and to keep
in check various divisions of the Austrian forces. In some skirmishes
the Austro-Russians were allowed to win small advantages, to put them
off their guard, and to induce them to offer battle on unfavorable
terms. Their two wings were adroitly separated from the center by
the French troops giving way at an opportune moment. Napoleon took
advantage of this weakness of the enemy’s center, while his commanders
were preventing the detached portion of the enemy’s forces from
returning to the main body, to drive the Russians, opposite him, on
the frozen surfaces of various ponds in the battlefield. He then used
his artillery to break the surface of the ice and so drowned several
thousand of the enemy.

This brilliant engagement, fought on December 2, 1805, cost the allies
15,000 men in killed and wounded, 20,000 prisoners, 45 standards, and
140 cannon. Napoleon, delighted that the allies had walked into the
trap prepared for them, commended in the order of the day following the
battle, the conduct of his men. “I am contented with you,” he said.
“You have, on the great day of Austerlitz, justified what I expected
from your valor. When I lead you back to France, my people will see
you again with joy. It will only be necessary for you to say ‘I was at
the battle of Austerlitz’ for the reply to be made, ‘There is a brave
man.’” The Emperor might well be satisfied, for the renewal of warfare
had not been popular in France, where the defeat at Trafalgar had
caused depression and anxiety. Now all was forgotten in the glorious
victory which again placed the Austrian Empire at the mercy of the
conqueror.

As the Austrians had been equally unlucky in defending their Italian
territories, the Treaty of Pressburg, December 20, 1805, showed how
greatly the traditional balance of power was altered, giving place
to Napoleon’s scheme for dominating the whole of Europe. Austria
lost the territories of Venice, Istria except Trieste, Dalmatia; she
recognized Napoleon as King of Italy and was forced to surrender
valuable possessions to the German princes who were allies of the
French. There was also a titular diminution of power, because Francis
II now surrendered the title of Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire,
which gave him a theoretical sovereignty over the German states, and
accepted the territorial title of hereditary Emperor of Austria. To
these extreme measures of humiliation Napoleon obstinately adhered,
though his foreign minister, Talleyrand, wisely preached moderation to
him, urging with unique diplomatic vision that if Austria were to be
deprived of so much territory in the west, there should be compensation
made for her losses by handing over to her Turkish provinces in the
lower valley of the Danube. France, he pointed out, would profit by
this act of generosity, for Austria would give up looking to England
for support, and, as a power in the East, would be certain to excite
the jealousy of Russia, because Russia had always looked to inherit the
Ottoman domains. But Napoleon’s plans would tolerate no scheme by which
any European state would be helped to preserve more than a fictitious
independent existence.

After Austerlitz the Confederation of the Rhine was created, a league
of sixteen dependent German princes, of which the French Emperor was
the head. Bavaria and Wurtemburg were especially favored, receiving the
title of kingdoms, while their royal houses were drawn close into the
orbit of French influence by marriages with members of the Bonaparte
and Beauharnais families. Italy being now absorbed, Napoleon’s sisters
were rewarded with Italian principalities, while his brother Joseph
took the place of one of the Bourbons on the throne of Naples. Only
the Pope was left as an independent sovereign in the much reduced
temporal dominions of the Church. Holland, in accordance with the fully
developed imperial system, became a kingdom, in place of a republic,
with Louis, the Emperor’s brother, as its sovereign. Only one member
of the family proved recalcitrant to Napoleon’s plans, and, therefore,
was not rewarded in this division of the spoils of conquest. This was
Lucien, who had saved the day on the 19th Brumaire and had made it
possible for his brother to climb into absolute power. He refused to
divorce his wife and marry a princess, and, therefore, he shared none
of the favors that were being distributed. Napoleon’s mother, Letitia
Bonaparte, who took Lucien’s side in this quarrel, was never declared
a princess, and had to be satisfied with the honorary title of Madame
Mère. Napoleon had conferred upon himself officially the title of Great
(1806). His birthday was kept as a national and imperial holiday on
which was celebrated a quasi-religious feast of apotheosis, modeled
after the precedents of the Roman Empire.

Although Austerlitz called forth a new distribution of the map of
Europe, and elevated, as if by a miracle, the members of the house of
Bonaparte, it did not give peace to France. Russia had not shared in
the Treaty of Pressburg, and even the English government, which, after
the death of Pitt, was headed by the liberal pro-French statesman
Fox, could make no satisfactory peace terms with the Emperor of the
French. Prussia, whose neutrality was suspected, was treated with
little consideration and no frankness by Napoleon’s government. It is
true that he handed Hanover to it, but he made no secret of the fact
that he would withdraw his gift provided that, if he restored Hanover
to England, that power would consent to make peace. There was an
active war party in Prussia who were anxious to try conclusions with
the French army, because they relied on the traditions of the perfect
military machine established by Frederick the Great. They boasted of
their ability to destroy Napoleon’s army which had only conquered
Austrians and Russians. Alexander of Russia was also anxious to renew
the conflict, and England poured out its treasures to the extent of
6,000,000 pounds.

The result was the Fourth Coalition against France, made up of England,
Prussia, Russia, and Sweden. Hostilities began with an inflated
ultimatum from the King of Prussia, ordering Napoleon to evacuate
Germany and to give up the Confederation of the Rhine. The declaration
of war on the part of Prussia was most ill-timed, for the Austrians had
not yet recovered from the defeat of Austerlitz, and the Russians were
not prepared to act the part of effective allies at the beginning of
the campaign. To this carelessness in selecting the time for commencing
hostilities was added over-confidence in the military superiority of
the Prussian army. As a machine, it presented the outward semblance
of the creation of Frederick the Great; but there was an absence
of intelligent direction. The soldiers were badly treated under a
régime of poor diet and strict discipline, while the officers were a
privileged class, who remained in active service long after they had
passed the prime of life. This artificial system collapsed like a pack
of cards; as Heine said, “Napoleon breathed on Prussia and Prussia
ceased to exist.”

In preparing for this new campaign, Napoleon repeated the strategy of
the Austerlitz campaign. He disguised, by feigned hostile movements and
by ostentatiously remaining in Paris, his intention of striking one
of his rapid, certain strokes at the enemy’s weakest spot. Led into a
false self-confidence, the Prussians took the offensive with 150,000
men. By means of quick concentration, Napoleon’s army was brought up to
a strength of 175,000. With this force, instead of coming into contact
with the Prussians on the northwest, as had been expected, he turned
their army on the southeast and threatened their communications with
Berlin. The victory was won by two skilfully conducted pitched battles,
at Jena and also at Auerstadt (the 14th of October, 1806), where
Davout, with an army much inferior to that opposed to him, specially
distinguished himself. The Prussian armies were reduced to a mass of
fugitives; there were 20,000 killed and wounded and 18,000 prisoners,
but the victory cost the French 12,000 men, for the Prussians had
fought bravely, though their generalship was poor.

There was later a spectacular entrance into Berlin by the victorious
army, arranged after the manner of a Roman triumph, with the Prussian
regiment of the guards disarmed and following their conquerors.
Napoleon interpreted his victory as giving him a chance to show his
power of wreaking a personal vengeance on those who had so rashly
questioned his power. “I will render this court nobility so small,” he
said, “that they will be obliged to beg their bread.” He acted in the
spirit of these words, and outraged public sentiment by carrying off,
as part of the booty of Berlin, the sword of Frederick the Great. Over
the conquered country was extended a network of officials, intrusted
with the duty of collecting large money contributions. No community
was allowed to escape the imposition, and all were made to feel their
responsibility for the war. There was also a rearrangement of German
territories, under which Jerome, the Emperor’s youngest and least
competent brother, was provided with a throne under the title of King
of Westphalia.

After the defeat of Prussia, the Russians, who had been slowly
drawing together great masses of men, kept up an obstinate struggle
against Napoleon’s generals, and little progress was made by the
French. Marbot describes the campaign in all its hardships; the
weather, he says, was terribly cold, but the troops seem to have
suffered even more in their marches from the thaws which rendered
the bad roads impassable. While the French army was encamped for the
winter, Benningsen, the Russian general, tried, early in February,
to force his way between the two divisions of the French army under
Ney and Bernadotte. The plan failed because Bernadotte was not taken
by surprise; his defense was a brilliant one, and gave Napoleon an
opportunity for attempting a turning movement on Benningsen’s army.
This purpose could not be carried out because the despatch announcing
it to the French subordinate commanders fell into the hands of the
Russians, who got away in time. In the pursuit, the Russians turned on
the French, and the result was a “soldiers’ battle,” fought at Eylau,
February 8, 1807, in which for a time the Emperor’s position was most
critical, for his army was half encircled and suffered terribly from
the enemy’s artillery fire. The day was finally saved by a remarkable
cavalry charge, led by Murat, who passed through three Russian lines
and broke up their attack. But despite this terrible massacre of men
at Eylau,--10,000 French and 30,000 Russians,--no final result was
attained by it. Neither side could claim to be victorious; it was
something, however, to prove that Napoleon was not invincible, and,
as Eylau was not a Russian defeat, the Russians interpreted it as a
victory. The two powers, Prussia and Russia, agreed not to make a
permanent treaty with France until the banks of the Rhine were accepted
as her frontiers.

During the spring each side remained inactive, for both were in need
of reinforcements. Benningsen with 100,000 men took the offensive,
but after some preliminary hard fighting, placed himself, still on
the offensive, in an unfavorable position near Friedland. He had
brought his army into a narrow ravine with the river Alle behind him,
so that in case of a check he had only the bridges to depend upon for
withdrawing his men. These bridges were cut in a turning movement, made
by Ney, while Lannes, with 26,000 French against 82,000 Russians, kept
Benningsen from leaving his position, during a space of thirteen hours.
By the evening the Russian army had but 25,000 men under arms and was
hopelessly demoralized.

After this defeat the Fourth Coalition was at an end. The Peace of
Tilsit was drawn up as the result of a personal interview between
Alexander of Russia and Napoleon on a raft anchored in the river
Niemen. After several private meetings Napoleon succeeded in attracting
to himself the enthusiastic sympathy of his obstinate opponent. There
was outlined a common plan of action by which both sides were to
benefit, Russia was to gain territory in Finland, at the expense of
Sweden, and in the East, at the expense of Turkey. Even more important
was the winning over of Alexander to agree to Napoleon’s continental
blockade against England, by which all English goods were to be kept
out of continental ports.

But even by making this volteface in Russian policy, Alexander
could secure no favorable terms for his late ally, Prussia. That
power was denuded of territory to the east which it had originally
acquired in the partition of Poland; for of this was constructed one
of Napoleon’s new creations, the grand duchy of Warsaw, of which the
elector of Saxony, approved by Napoleon for his pro-French policy,
became sovereign with the title of King. On the west, all lands beyond
the Elbe were taken, to be added to the new kingdom of Westphalia.
Frederick of Prussia had besides to accede to the anti-British economic
measures of Napoleon, to pay a war indemnity of $20,000,000, and to be
humbly grateful for the return of four provinces in the northeast that
had been detached from Prussia after the battle of Jena.




VI AT THE ZENITH OF POWER


After Tilsit it was plain that Napoleon was no longer a French monarch;
his schemes of conquest were now not made in the interest of France,
for France, like the other powers of central Europe, was to be only
a province of a vast territorial empire, managed for the personal
profit of a single individual, who bestowed and took away power and
territory, according to his caprice. England still stood in his way
after his diplomatic success at Tilsit, but no armies were left to
oppose him. It seemed, therefore, a comparatively easy matter to master
England by cutting her off from the sources of her wealth. No power
or state was allowed to be neutral, for those who declared themselves
so were proscribed along with England (decree of Milan, 1807). A hard
fate awaited any refractory nation, for nationalism now lived only
on sufferance. To suspend the economic life of millions of people,
to transform habits of industry peculiar to sea-going populations
was to Napoleon’s mind no greater task than to annihilate armies
and partition kingdoms. From Tilsit dates the effort to attain the
impossible, and with it begins, in a succession of rapid changes, the
decline of the imperial system, the strain being greater than any
such artificial construction could bear. Externally the establishment
of peace consolidated Napoleon’s power and influence at home; the last
campaigns had been a severe drain, but the diplomatic success of Tilsit
compensated for the losses in the battlefield.

Napoleon’s familiar method of using a period of peace for extending his
power at every weak point of contact was now resumed. Portugal, as a
state closely connected with England, was to be detached from British
influence by force of arms. Nor was any consideration to be paid to
Spain, loyal though she had been to France, her ally. A loyalty which
had cost her dear already became more fatal still when Napoleon began
to plan for a cession of Spanish territory and the substitution of a
member of his own house for the Bourbons. In the north, Denmark was to
be required to renounce her position of neutrality and to hand over her
valuable fleet of twenty ships to coöperate with the French. It was in
anticipation of this step, that an English fleet, outdoing the lawless
code of their adversaries, bombarded, in July, 1807, Copenhagen, the
capital of a state with which it was at peace, and seized the Danish
ships in the harbor.

This was the act which drove Alexander into closer relations with
Napoleon, who adroitly used the opportunity for arranging a formal
alliance, by which common action against the English in the East, as
well as the West, might be secured. His plans in their full scope
are given in the following letter addressed to the Czar of Russia
in February, 1808: “An army of 80,000 men, Russian and French,
perhaps a few Austrians, which will advance on Asia by the road of
Constantinople, will not have to reach the Euphrates, to make England
tremble and bring her to our feet on the continent. I am ready on the
spot in Dalmatia, your Majesty is on the Danube. A month after we have
agreed to act, the army can be on the Bosphorus. The news of it will be
heard in India, and England will give in. I do not refuse to accept any
of the preliminary stipulations necessary to attain an end so great.
But the mutual interest of our two states should be well combined and
balanced. All can be signed and decided before the 15th of March. On
May 1, our troops can be in Asia, and at the same time your Majesty’s
troops in Stockholm. Then the English, threatened in India, chased
out of the Levant, will be broken under the weight of the events by
which the atmosphere will be charged. Your Majesty and myself would
prefer the enjoyment of peace and to pass our life in the midst of our
vast empires, busied in vitalizing them and making them happy by the
methods and benefits of our government. The enemies of the world will
not have it so. We must be greater in spite of ourselves. It is the
part of wisdom and policy to do what fate ordains and to go where the
irresistible march of events is leading us.... In these few lines I
am expressing to your Majesty my whole mind. The work of Tilsit will
regulate the destinies of the world. Perhaps so far as your Majesty and
I are concerned, a little pusillanimity would have us prefer a certain
actual good to a better and more perfect condition. But since, after
all, England does not wish it, let us recognize that the time for great
events and for great changes has come.”

This vision Alexander desired to transform into hard realities without
delay; the first step was to divide the dominions of Turkey. The
question arose as to what disposition should be made of Constantinople
and the Dardanelles. But while the Russians were arguing as to the
proposed increase of territory in the Orient, Napoleon, without
consulting his correspondent at St. Petersburg, was manipulating the
situation in the West by the virtual annexation of Spain to France. The
haggling with Russia was dropped, and Napoleon hastened to embark in
the adventure which was ultimately to lead to his downfall.

Disgust with Godoy, the court favorite, had brought about a
revolutionary movement in Spain, which aimed to substitute for
the reigning monarch, Charles IV, his son Ferdinand. These family
difficulties were laid before Napoleon, who traveled to Bayonne, post
haste from Paris, to act as arbitrator. With a duplicity worthy of a
profound student of Machiavelli, he caused to be placed in his hands an
abdication, signed by both the royal father and his son; the impartial
arbiter handed over the crown to a third party, his brother Joseph,
King of Naples. So, by a juggle that a sporting gamester might have
envied, a Bonaparte came to reside in the royal palace of Madrid, and
if kingships went by personal capacity, and not by descent, it must be
said that, mediocre as was Napoleon’s elder brother, he was far better
fitted for governing Spain than either the feeble Charles IV or his
scoundrelly son and heir, Ferdinand.

Alexander heard of these transactions from the pen of his assiduous
correspondent, but he cared for none of these things; his mind was
filled with the spoliation of Sweden and Finland as a preliminary step
to realize his dream of Oriental conquest. It was arranged that the two
emperors should meet at Erfurt to settle the terms of their proposed
dual domination of the world; only by a personal interview could the
question as to the possession of Constantinople be decided. In the
meantime there were elaborate plans for the sailing of fleets to Egypt,
and around the Cape of Good Hope, to overawe the English.

Events in Spain put an awkward stop to this program. The population
of the country had never been awakened by the French Revolution; they
hated foreign interference, and, when their Bourbon king was dethroned,
they rose _en masse_ in revolt, with the spirit of the Vendée. News
soon came to Paris of the defeat of a French army in which 18,000 men
surrendered. This defeat, the capitulation of Baylem, was soon followed
by a disaster to the army corps which was operating in Portugal against
a combined Portuguese and English force. The effect of the Spanish
resistance was enormous; in all parts of central Europe it revived the
hope of successful revolt against the domination of the French system.
It stirred Prussia and Austria to renewed efforts; there was great
activity of secret societies in Prussia, directed against the French
occupation, and Austria was busy in reorganizing its military forces
for a fresh struggle.

Napoleon realized the critical situation; antedating his letter to
Alexander, to give the impression that it was written before the bad
news from Spain had reached him, he announced his purpose to withdraw
the French troops from Prussia, and promised to give up the Danubian
principalities, without compensation, provided Russia would be willing
to see that the Germans were kept quiet, and would influence Austria to
abandon her warlike preparations. Alexander showed much complacency,
even going so far as to express his sympathy for the eclipse of the
French arms in Spain.

Nothing was spared at Erfurt, where the two emperors met, to impress
upon the world the security and the extent of Napoleon’s rule. It was
the fête of a cosmopolitan society, where men of distinction in all
spheres of life were brought together at the bidding of the Emperor of
the French. Goethe was present, also Talleyrand, who left on record
his impression of the atmosphere of adulation that prevailed. The two
central figures, Alexander and Napoleon, showed marked cordiality to
each other. Alexander spoke of his friend as not only the greatest
but the best of men. Yet there were visible rifts in the friendship;
Alexander refused to show hostility to Austria, an attitude which was
secretly encouraged by Talleyrand, who had begun to fear the result of
Napoleon’s grandiose schemes, and wished to make friends before fortune
turned. Napoleon proved obdurate, when Alexander urged upon him a more
generous treatment of Prussia.

In the formal treaty, the result of the meeting, there was incorporated
a proposition of peace with England on the basis of the _status
quo_--i.e., Finland and the Danubian principalities for Russia and the
deposition of the Bourbons in Spain. Alexander would go no further as
regards Austria than the prospect of armed coöperation, if Austria went
to war against France. Among the subjects proposed was the marriage of
Napoleon with a Russian princess. He had been considering for some time
a divorce from Josephine, a plan now resolved upon after the birth of
an illegitimate son had convinced him that there was the possibility of
a direct heir. Alexander, encouraged by Talleyrand’s advice, refused
to make a frank engagement to forward this scheme, saying that to
his mother alone belonged the disposition of his sisters’ marriage
arrangements.

After the meeting at Erfurt, Napoleon hastened to Spain, where,
fighting several successful battles, he restored his brother to his
capital at Madrid, and forced an English army under Moore to retreat
towards the sea coast. This was in January, 1809. Then Napoleon was
obliged to withdraw from Spain because of the threatening attitude of
Austria, now firmly resolved on opening hostilities with France. There
were also evidences brought him of a plot in Paris, the responsibility
for which rested on Talleyrand and Fouché, both long in service
under him. It was arranged between them that in case of a reverse or
a successful attempt on Napoleon’s life, they were to take charge
of the government, giving it a figurehead in the person of Murat,
Napoleon’s brother-in-law. Long before he was expected, Napoleon
appeared suddenly in Paris, having ridden from the north of Spain in
six days. For a while Talleyrand was in disgrace, but acts of personal
revenge were forgotten in the preparation for crushing Austria. It was
a most distasteful task, for he feared to break up his friendship with
Alexander, the necessary result of dismembering the Austrian Empire.
He therefore tried to secure the intervention of Russia, but Alexander
refused to act at all vigorously.

Hostilities broke out in April, 1809. There was no longer a question
of purely dynastic interests in this armed protest of Austria against
the Napoleonic system; the army of 310,000 men represented a general
patriotic movement of self-defense that had penetrated all classes of
society in the Hapsburg dominions. It stood ready to resist the power
that was crushing out racial and territorial distinctions; it spoke
for a nation in arms conscious of its national right to exist. At home
the French Emperor had to deal now with a population that was weary
of warfare and satiated with military glory. To meet, on Austrian
territory, this massive attack of the Fifth Coalition, which was made
up of England, Spain, and Austria, there was no longer the material at
hand that had secured for the conqueror the brilliant achievements at
Austerlitz and Marengo. His latest army consisted of new recruits and
old soldiers from France and of levies from dependent states.

Napoleon thoroughly appreciated the dangers of his position, as his
correspondence with his agent at the Russian court shows. He was most
urgent in inviting Alexander to play the part of an effective ally by
sending troops to Hungary and Galicia, a movement which would have
taken Austria between two fires. There were no longer vague promises
of reward held out, but specific engagements were offered as an
inducement for the Czar to act. “The three crowns of Austria could be
separated. When these last-mentioned states have been thus divided, we
can diminish the number of our troops, substitute for these general
enlistments of troops, which are tending to call even the women under
arms, a small number of regular troops and so change to the system of
small armies, as introduced by the late King of Prussia (Frederick
II). Our barracks can become poor-houses and the conscripts can stick
to their tillage. Even if it is wished after the conquest to guarantee
the integrity of the monarchy, I will agree to it provided there is a
complete disarmament.”

Alexander showed a lack of interest in these proposals; on the other
hand, he let the Austrian government know that he hoped they would
be successful, promising at the same time that his alliance with the
French would be interpreted so formally, that the Austrians would
have nothing to fear from Russian armies. Yet in spite of these
diplomatic discouragements Napoleon lost none of his technical skill
in the campaign that followed. In five days (April 19-23, 1809) with
an army of 120,000 men, though the main Austrian army consisted of
175,000, he took 40,000 prisoners and 100 pieces of artillery. He
divided the enemy’s forces into separate divisions, both of which were
defeated, and so he opened up the road to Vienna. But the close of
the campaign was obstinately contested by the Austrian commander, the
Archduke Charles. In the neighborhood of the Austrian capital there
were desperate engagements at Aspern and Essling (May 21-22). For a
time Napoleon’s lieutenants, Masséna and Lannes, were hard pressed
near the island of Lobau in the Danube. The French advance was checked
thirteen times; Essling was taken and retaken, and, according to
general opinion, the primary result of this serious contest was only a
repetition of Eylau.

Reinforcements were summoned from all sides; Lobau was transformed
into a strong citadel with impregnable redoubts to insure the passage
of the river. In July, Napoleon had under him 150,000 men and 450
cannon. On the 5th and 6th of the month a decisive battle was fought
at Wagram, according to a carefully planned program. The Austrians
were first of all outnumbered; the whole French army was so dispersed
and concentrated over a distance of not more than four miles that it
could be directly under the Emperor’s eyes. On the other hand, the
Austrians were scattered, had no reserves at hand, and orders had to
be given in writing. Successful as was Napoleon’s strategy, which
contained his favorite expedient of breaking the enemy’s center by an
overwhelmingly strong concentrated attack on the weakest point, it was
plain to him that there was no longer in his army the cohesive action
that had made the earlier victories so complete. The battle cost from
20,000 to 25,000 men on each side. “These are no longer the soldiers
of Austerlitz,” he explained; and he showed his lack of confidence by
giving up bayonet charges and trusting to artillery fire to break up
his opponents’ lines.

The Austrian archduke withdrew from the field in good order, but
Napoleon had no desire to pursue and force another engagement in the
interior of the country. He trusted to the general influence abroad of
the success at Wagram, and was glad to sign a treaty of peace at Vienna
on the 14th of October, 1809, by which Austria was denuded of large
sections of territory, that were taken to reward the fidelity of the
Bavarians and Poles to their French allies. Under this reorganization
Austria occupied a territory smaller than that of pre-revolutionary
France. She was required to reduce her army to 150,000 men and to
pay an indemnity of $17,000,000. Russia’s share of the spoil was
measured by her apathetic position as an ally. There was an addition
of territory containing a population of 400,000, but this was a small
gain that by no means outweighed the favor shown to the Poles by the
annexation of western Galicia to the grand duchy of Warsaw. Annexed to
the French Empire were Fiume, Trieste, Croatia, Carniola, and a part of
Carinthia, so that Napoleon’s eastern dominions extended practically
without a break in their eastern border from the mouth of the Cattaro
to Dantzic. Austria seemed to have become as much a satellite of
Napoleon’s empire as Holland or Italy.




VII THE BEGINNING OF THE END


During the course of the contest with Austria, the war in the Iberian
peninsula went on in a prolonged series of obstinate campaigns
between Napoleon’s marshals and an allied force composed of English,
Portuguese, and Spanish contingents. Even after the victory of Wagram
the Spaniards held on in the face of several disasters; and helped
by the English fleet they managed to retain a foothold in Cadiz. The
temper of the population was judged to be so hostile that the French
army of occupation was raised to the enormous number of 270,000 and
the whole country was placed under martial law. The King, Napoleon’s
brother Joseph, was only the nominal executive; he aptly called himself
the porter of the Madrid hospitals. As the country was harassed with
guerrilla warfare, and as the Cortes refused to recognize Joseph as
their sovereign, Napoleon threatened to annex the whole kingdom to
France.

In Portugal, a French army under Masséna failed to win a decisive
victory. It was met by an Anglo-Portuguese force under Wellington, who
so strongly intrenched himself at Torres Vedras that Masséna finally
withdrew, followed by the English. In his retreat the French general
was unable to change his fortune, and the effort to occupy Portugal
failed. Masséna was then superseded in his command. Later on the French
cause was much injured by the mutual jealousies of the commanders of
the various army corps, who, if they had zealously coöperated, might,
with the superior forces at their command, have driven Wellington back
to the sea coast. By the year 1812, the French armies were stale,
and although there were 230,000 French soldiers in the peninsula,
Wellington was allowed to invade Spain with an army of only 60,000 men.

Napoleon was indignant at the mismanagement of his subordinates,
and sent Jourdon to take charge of the military operations. The new
commander not only found the various generals under him unwilling to
act together, but also had to deal with a situation in which the troops
were demoralized by habits of pillage. Their pay was in arrears, field
artillery was scarce, the large siege guns had fallen into the hands of
the English, there were no wagon trains and no supply service. Napoleon
himself could not from a distance undertake any intelligent supervision
of the Spanish situation, since he was obliged to depend on indirect
information, and when he interfered his commands were rarely carried
out with common sense or good will. His own hands were not free when
the Spanish affairs became most critical, for the alliance with Russia,
on which so much hope was placed, proved only temporary. On both sides
there were grievances; Napoleon was indignant at the apathetic attitude
of his ally during the Wagram campaign, and he felt irritated also
at the hesitation and delay of the Czar in arranging a marriage for
him with a Russian archduchess, after the divorce from Josephine. A
distinct Austrian trend was given to French policy when Napoleon found
the Austrian Emperor willing to sacrifice his daughter, for the purpose
of perpetuating the Napoleonic dynasty. Intimation was given in plain
terms that in the questions relating to the Balkan peninsula, Russia’s
scheme of aggression would be no more encouraged nor supported.

In Alexander’s domains the continental blockade against England was
unpopular and disastrous. With English vessels barred from Russian
ports there was no more an outlet for the raw materials of the country.
Many of the landlords were in a bankrupt condition; reprisals were made
by increasing the tariff on French goods. In a military sense the only
benefit accruing to Russia from the French alliance was the conquest of
Finland. No good came from French help either in the war with Persia
or in that with Turkey. On the other side, the constant extension
of French territory and influence placed a sinister but natural
interpretation on Napoleon’s promises to share with the Russians the
dominion of all European and Asiatic lands as far East as India.

The last step in annexation illustrated the character of Napoleon’s
present temper. Hamburg and Lübeck were incorporated with the French
Empire and along with them the duchy of Oldenburg, whose duke was
closely allied to the Russian royal house. The Czar protested formally,
but without moving the Emperor of the French either to recede or to
give adequate compensation for annexing these German territories.

But the severest blow to Russia came from the favors shown the Poles,
to reward their valorous coöperation in the Wagram campaign. The Czar,
who feared the restoration of the kingdom of Poland, attempted to
secure from Napoleon the promise that that kingdom should never be
reëstablished. Napoleon’s reply was that he would only pledge himself
not to give any assistance to any revolt tending to restore the kingdom
of Poland. The Czar’s anxiety was misplaced, for the provinces of his
empire that he feared might be taken, were in no sense Polish socially,
though they had formed a part of the ancient kingdom of Poland. There
was no likelihood of a popular movement in favor of the Poles, nor
would the population have endured a pro-Polish rearrangement of their
territory against the Russians, with whom they, as members of the
Orthodox Church, were closely in sympathy. There was also a pro-Russian
party among the Poles which Alexander encouraged, by proposing a scheme
to establish an enlarged autonomous Poland with a constitution under
Russian protection. In 1811, Russian troops were massed together, to
invade the grand duchy of Warsaw, and so to encourage the Russian
partisans to carry through Alexander’s scheme.

In the spring of 1811, Napoleon, who had at first made light of the
intimations of the hostile purposes of the Czar, that kept coming to
him from Polish sources, realized that there was a substance behind
these reports and began to collect forces from all parts of his empire
to protect the grand duchy. Napoleon told the Russian representatives
of his gigantic preparations, and at the same time declared that he
wished for peace; he asked also whether Alexander thought he was ready
to sacrifice 200,000 Frenchmen to re-establish Poland.

But the final rupture arose over Napoleon’s economic policy. Alexander
refused to give up the right of trading with neutrals. “I am ready,”
he said, “to withdraw to Siberia rather than accept for Russia the
situation now occupied by Austria and Prussia.” When the Russian
ultimatum was handed in, its conditions were the settlement of
Alexander’s grievances with Sweden, the evacuation of Prussia, and
the right of commerce with neutrals as preliminary to the question
of tariffs and indemnity for the seizure of Oldenburg. Napoleon’s
unwilling allies, Prussia and Austria, smarting as they were from past
defeats at his hands, were not to be depended upon. On the other hand,
Russia’s hands were made free by subsidies from England, by a treaty
of peace with Turkey, and by the valuable aid of Sweden, whose crown
prince was now Bernadotte, a kinsman of Napoleon and one of his ablest
marshals.

In May, 1812, the French Emperor appeared in Dresden, ready to
undertake the invasion of Russia; he was the personal ruler of 130
French departments, and under him, in the relation of vassals, were
seven kingdoms and thirty princes. In Poland, he was greeted with great
enthusiasm, but the actual contingents supplied to his army from Polish
sources did not amount to more than 70,000 men. Much of the Grand Army
with which Russia was now invaded, 678,000 in all (among the items
being 480,000 foot, 100,000 horse, and 80,000 artillerymen), were
composed, to the proportion of nearly half, of foreign contingents.
Besides the force taken with him to Russia, he had at his command,
under arms, 150,000 soldiers in France, 50,000 in Italy, 300,000 in
Spain. The plan of campaign was to penetrate into the interior of
the Russian Empire, leaving ample forces to guard communications and
protect the flanks, as the French advanced. On the Russian side the
forces were much less numerous, and there actually faced the 400,000
French who crossed the Niemen the last of June, only 147,000 Russians.

Napoleon’s plan depended for success on quick action. He hoped to
attack and overcome the two chief Russian armies, before they had
effected a junction. But the country was not like the plains of central
Europe; it was marshy and broken by forests. His commanders, especially
his brother Jerome, whose position at the head of an army corps was
an absurd concession to the clan spirit of the Bonaparte family,
showed dilatoriness in executing important strategical movements. The
troops also suffered in their discipline from the constant marauding
expeditions. Desertions were numerous, many lagged behind, and there
were epidemics in the invading army owing to the extreme heat. From
these various causes the divisions lost a large percentage of their
effective strength, so that by the middle of July the invaders were
faced by a reduction in the original number of their army of 150,000
men. Napoleon won no decisive victory, for after every engagement the
enemy contrived to get away, drawing the invading forces farther into
the interior of the country.

At Smolensk and Borodino there were battles that recalled the Eylau
campaign, the losses were heavy on both sides without producing any
change in the position of the opposing armies. On September 7, a
murderous battle took place at Borodino near Moscow; the victory for
the French might have been complete, if Napoleon had not at a critical
time refused to let his guard charge, saying that he did not want to
destroy it, 800 leagues away from France. The loss on both sides was
frightful; of the French 30,000 were “hors de combat,” while the
Russians counted their losses at 60,000. Among the killed on the French
side were three generals of division, nine brigadier generals, and ten
colonels. The Russians lost their heroic commander Bagration.

The road was now opened to Moscow, but there was no rejoicing among
the victors, for on the field of battle lay 30,000 dead and 60,000
wounded. On the 14th, Napoleon entered the city, the ancient capital
of Russia. Most of the inhabitants had fled, leaving only the lower
classes and the occupants of the prisons, whom the governor of the city
had released, when he heard of the victory of the French. While the
army was halted in expectation that Alexander would sue for peace, a
fire, started by Russian incendiaries, soon consumed most of the city,
the houses of which were constructed entirely of wood. Fifteen thousand
of the Russian wounded, who had been brought on in ambulances, were
burnt to death. After the fire had spent its course Napoleon took up
his abode in the Kremlin, which was only saved by the efforts of the
Imperial Guard. He still hoped that terms of peace might be arranged,
but Alexander continued inflexible.

Napoleon for a time contemplated spending the winter in Russia, since
he recognized the practical difficulties of the retreat and the loss
of prestige due to his withdrawal. Finally he decided to return by the
southern provinces. The start west began on the 19th of November, 1812,
with a force of 100,000 men; the way south was made impracticable by
the obstinate resistance of the Russian general Kutusoff, with his army
of only 50,000 men. Therefore the route over which they had come had
to be taken for the return. The rearguard was constantly harassed by
the enemy, and early in November there was a battle at Viazma, in which
the French lost from 15,000 to 18,000 men. Snow began to fall, food was
scarce, the troops were badly prepared to endure the wintry weather;
out of 100,000 men there were soon only 40,000 left able to bear arms,
and at Smolensk on the 12th of November only 34,000 were left.

No French army corps actually surrendered, but they suffered terrible
losses, some of them losing half their effective strength. The Russians
who followed the retreat were also reduced from 60,000 to 30,000.
At the Berezina, where three Russian armies were joined to dispute
the passage, the French with unheard-of bravery rescued themselves
from capture by forces three times as numerous, and inflicted on the
Russians a loss of 14,000 men. When the remnants of the army reached
Lithuania, Napoleon left them there in order to make a rapid return to
Paris and to counteract by his presence in his capital the bad effect
of the news of the defeat in Russia. New armies had to be raised, for
it was practically certain that a large part of Germany would soon be
in revolt. Though temporarily strengthened by the various contingents
left to protect the communications eastward, the final stage of the
retreat from Russia, which was conducted by Murat, bore witness to
the frightful straits and demoralization of the French. The sick and
wounded were abandoned; there were no provisions for carrying the
artillery or the pontoons; even the army treasure and the secret
archives had to be left behind. Before the end of the journey west Ney,
who commanded the rearguard, had with him no more than 500 or 600 men,
and when the Old Guard entered Königsberg, it was reduced to 1500 men,
of whom only 500 were fit to bear arms.

The extent of the Russian disaster may be measured by a few statistics;
533,000 soldiers crossed the actual frontier into Russia in the
summer of 1812; 18,000 of the main army returned in the December
following; about 130,000 men had been made prisoners in Russia,
55,000 had deserted at the opening of the campaign, and there were
55,000 survivors of the various corps that had been stationed as
reserves along the line outside of the Russian territory. Altogether
250,000 must be reckoned as having perished during the course of the
march to Moscow and the retreat from that city. The disaster meant
that Napoleon’s schemes of European domination were checked and his
military resources much diminished. It was no longer a question of new
conquests, but of turning to face the nations who had suffered so long
from French despotic rule.




VIII DEFEAT AND EXILE


From every quarter came the word that, with the Grand Army destroyed,
the French Cæsar must now yield; his system, it was said, had expired
on the plains of Russia. The hostile spirit of a subject population
was seen as the straggling French passed through Prussia; soldiers who
dropped out of the ranks were disarmed by the peasants, insulted and
badly handled. The Prussians and Austrians made separate arrangements
with the Russians, by which hostilities, so far as each were concerned,
were to be suspended. Most of Prussia was abandoned; there were only
40,000 French left to oppose a revolted Germany. Even Murat, Napoleon’s
brother-in-law, abandoned the failing cause and retired suddenly to
Naples, to make from there arrangements on his own account with the
Austrian Prime Minister Metternich.

The activity of Napoleon in such a desperate situation was marvelous.
As to money, he collected nearly $100,000,000 by using his own private
treasury and selling large amounts of communal estates. Every available
man was placed under arms, including the National Guard and even by
anticipation the conscripts of 1814--there were already 140,000 of
the conscripts of 1813 under training--the sailors in the seaports
were enrolled as soldiers; and many regiments were taken from Spain.
Altogether there was collected and sent in detachments to Germany an
army of 500,000 men, mostly made up of youths less than twenty years
of age. In order to give them discipline and stability, veterans were
incorporated in the new regiments.

Napoleon was not so alert as he had been; he was suffering from an
internal disease, and sometimes for weeks he was incapable of effort.
There were frequent attacks also of drowsiness, all indicative
of exhaustion of his powers. He was more intolerant than ever of
criticism, refused to take advice, was suspicious of his counselors,
and contemptuous of the ability of his commanders, an attitude somewhat
justified by the fact that many of his best marshals were now replaced
by men of second-rate ability, while others, who were fitted to
command, were unwilling from jealousy to work together. Marbot declared
that, “if the Emperor had wished to punish all those who were lacking
in zeal, he would have been obliged to dispense with the services of
nearly all his marshals.”

The service of supplies for the army was most defective. In the
beginning of the year 1813, by the carelessness of the administrative
work in this department, the Prussians got possession of over
$6,000,000 worth of supplies, intended for the French armies. The
consequence was that the soldiers depended on pillage; even the
officers lived on what they could get from the country. Worse than
all was the inability of the Emperor himself to gauge the changed
conditions produced by his defeat. He still behaved as if he were
invincible, and refused to make terms with Prussia or to conciliate
Austria by well-timed territorial concessions. To the end he would not
believe that his father-in-law, the Emperor of Austria, would take up
arms against him. If, at this time, he had accepted a smaller, compact
France, confined to its natural limits, he might have avoided the
disasters of 1813 and 1814, and yet ruled over a territory larger than
that ever held by Louis XIV.

In the new coalition Prussia was most anxious to restore her prestige;
the uprising against the French was a national movement common to all
classes of the population. Finally, even the timorous King was induced
to side with the Russians and to issue an appeal to his people. There
were 150,000 Prussians under arms, and in order to receive the help of
other German states, proclamations were issued under Russian auspices,
making generous promises of national independence and personal liberty.
So were transplanted to German soil the watchwords of the French
Revolution. Austria made many open professions of fidelity to the
alliance with France, but Metternich was actively intriguing with the
smaller German courts. He even tried to detach Jerome of Westphalia and
Murat of Naples from the French, and he did all in his power to urge
Frederick William, the Prussian king, to take up arms in behalf of the
independence of Europe.

In the military operations of 1813, while the French were opposed only
by the allied forces of Prussia and Russia, the advantage continued
on the side of the French Emperor; by the autumn, however, Austria
and many of the German vassal states had joined the coalition and the
defeat of Napoleon was the certain outcome. As a result of a series
of battles around Dresden, the cause of the allies was in a critical
position; both sides had lost heavily but Napoleon was much chagrined
that there had been no signal positive advantage from the constant
butchery of his men. He was weak in cavalry, and so could not follow
up his successes; the terrible loss of horses in Russia had not been
made up. But at any rate he was steadily getting back the territory
in Germany he had previously held. On the other side, the Russian and
Prussian generals were blaming one another for their failures, and so
making the continuance of the coalition problematical.

At this point Metternich intervened after an armistice had been signed
at Pressnitz early in July, 1813. He agreed to support the coalition,
unless the French consented to give up Holland, Switzerland, Spain,
the Confederation of the Rhine, Poland, and the larger part of Italy.
Napoleon was indignant when Metternich laid down these terms during a
personal interview at Dresden. “You want war,” he said; “well, you will
get it. I will meet you at Vienna. How many allies have you got, four,
five, six, twenty? The more you have the less disturbed I am. What do
you want me to do? Disgrace myself? Never. I can die, but I shall never
give up an inch of territory. Your sovereigns who are born on a throne
can let themselves be beaten twenty times, and always return to their
capital. I cannot do it, because I am an upstart soldier. You are not
a soldier, and you do not know what takes place in a soldier’s soul.
I grew up on battlefields, and a man such as I am cares little for the
lives of a million men.”

When a congress met at Prague to arrange the terms of peace, they
proved far more favorable to France than those first proposed, for
she was granted her natural frontiers and Italy in addition. It was
nothing short of madness on Napoleon’s part to refuse such concessions;
only a portion of them had even been dreamed of as possibilities under
the Bourbon monarchs at the height of their ambition. Even from his
own point of view, he might have trusted to the certainty of future
jealousies between the central European powers and Russia, by which his
place as the arbiter of Europe could be regained. Metternich, indeed,
was as insincere in his profession on behalf of peace as Napoleon
himself, because the congress closed before a special messenger with
the French counter proposals reached Vienna. War was resumed on August
11th.

The situation was now as follows: the French were about to be
surrounded by three great armies; 130,000 Austrians, 240,000 Russians,
and a mixed host, composed of various contingents from all the allies
great and small, under the former French marshal, Bernadotte, numbering
180,000 men. Moreover, there were 200,000 combined English and Spanish
soldiers ready to cross the Pyrenees. Altogether 1,000,000 men were
ranged in arms against the French Emperor. The plan as developed by
Bernadotte, now King of Sweden, was to wear Napoleon out. A decisive
battle would be avoided, but his lieutenants would be destroyed in
detail. Moreau, the victor of Hohenlinden, was brought from the United
States, where he had been living in exile, to assume the command of the
allies.

To oppose the vast allied forces, Napoleon had altogether no more
than 550,000 men, of whom 330,000 were in Germany. At Dresden, at the
end of August, an attack on the place was successfully resisted, and
Moreau, the generalissimo of the allies, lost his life. But Napoleon’s
scattered marshals fared badly, and the French army suffered heavy
losses just at a time when no man could be spared. The enveloping
plan was successfully carried out. Napoleon, at Leipzig, realized
his hopeless position, for he tried there to arrange an armistice.
With his 155,000 men he had against him 330,000 of the coalition. The
situation was rendered worse because the German troops serving with the
French deserted and joined the enemy; some, like the Saxons, during the
very course of the terrible battle which raged for three days around
Leipzig (October, 1813). At the end, 15 French generals and 25,000 men
were made prisoners, and 350 cannon were taken; 13,000 of the French
were massacred in the houses of Leipzig. The losses on both sides were
frightful, for 130,000 was the sum total of the killed and wounded,
50,000 of whom were French.

In the retreat which followed, the demoralization was so great that
only 40,000 men reached the Rhine, yet nearly 200,000 men were left,
by Napoleon’s orders, in various German fortresses, most of them, too,
experienced troops who were unable to take further part in the war when
their country was invaded in the next year’s campaign. Some attempt
was made to arrange terms of peace now that everywhere the Napoleonic
system had fallen to pieces. The French armies were driven out of
Holland. In Italy alone Eugène Beauharnais was manfully and loyally
supporting the Emperor’s cause, but he had only 30,000 men.

The people of France had no heart for more warfare, and the allies
let it be known that they were fighting Napoleon and not France. But
still the great mass of the people had no wish for a change of dynasty;
the war was unpopular, but not its author. As soon as it became known
that the cause of the allies meant a restoration of the Bourbons,
and that France would be invaded, in order to displace Napoleon, the
answer of the country, exhausted though it was and drained of its male
population, was spontaneous and unmistakable. From the autumn of 1813,
to March, 1814, France placed in the field under Napoleon’s orders,
350,000 men. This is a marvelous record, not to mention the tremendous
financial drain caused by the equipment of a fresh army.

The new recruits were not trained, well armed, or sufficiently
clothed; there was not time to prepare them for warfare, for the allies
crossed the frontiers of France in midwinter (1813). There was no
resistance to their progress until Napoleon with an army of 122,000
began to conduct his last extended campaign in the neighborhood of
Châlons. By reason of a success gained near Rotheise the allies hoped
soon to be in Paris. This over-confidence exposed them to a series of
defeats, inflicted upon several of their generals in succession, by
Napoleon, in a remarkable exposition of his strategy that recalled the
early days of his career in Italy. By the end of February the principal
army of the allies retired near Troyes, afraid, though numbering
150,000 men, to face a stand-up fight with Napoleon, who had only
70,000 men. Public confidence was restored in France, especially among
the country people, indignant at the brutal treatment they received at
the hands of the foreign soldiers. There was now stirred up a spirit
of national resistance, which recalled the early days of the French
Revolution. The peasantry arose, and inflicted severe losses on the
marauding troops. Attempts were made in the spring to arrange terms
of peace, but on neither side was there a sincere belief that the war
could be brought to an end by mutual concessions. The Congress of
Châtillon lasted from the 4th of February to the 19th of March; it was
only a concession to public opinion, for the allies really wished for a
Bourbon restoration, while Napoleon, depending on his marriage with the
daughter of Francis I of Austria, felt certain that he could ultimately
detach the Austrians from the coalition. At one time the allied armies
were so discouraged, after fighting ten battles on French soil, that
they contemplated a retreat eastward.

Confidence was restored to them, not by their military successes, but
by the capture of some private despatches from various officials to the
French Emperor, which spoke in no uncertain terms of the discontent of
the people of Paris and of the general depression throughout a country
that was no longer able to bear the material exhaustion caused by the
war. So encouraged, the allies marched to Paris; Napoleon anticipated
this step, and had ordered the government to withdraw towards the
Loire, feeling sure that in time he could drive his foes from French
territory. Yet he realized to the full the bad effect of the seizure of
his capital.

In approaching the city the allies had only to deal with the marshals,
not with the master hand of the Emperor, who first heard of their march
westward three days after it had begun. The end soon came; there was a
murderous engagement near the city, after which the arrangements for an
armistice were made with Joseph Bonaparte, acting for the regent, the
Empress Marie Louise. When Napoleon heard the news of the capitulation,
he indignantly prepared to annul the action of his brother, and to
call the people to arms for a hand-to-hand struggle in the streets of
Paris with the foreign soldiery. In a few days, owing to the shrewd
persuasions of Talleyrand, who induced Alexander of Russia to accept
no alternative government for the country but a Bourbon restoration,
Napoleon found himself forced to abdicate.

This step was not taken until after long hesitations, for even to the
last he believed in the possibility of continuing hostilities. The
troops were still enthusiastically loyal, and eagerly listened to his
appeal to them to march upon Paris. But his marshals insisted that he
must abdicate. This he finally did in a conditional form, reserving
the rights of Napoleon II, and the regency of Marie Louise. This form,
owing to the refusal of the Czar to accept it, was finally altered
until it read as follows: “The allied powers having proclaimed that
the Emperor Napoleon was the sole obstacle to the restoration of peace
in Europe, the Emperor Napoleon, loyal to his oaths, declares that he
renounces in behalf of himself and his heirs the thrones of France and
Italy, because there is no personal sacrifice, even to the extent of
his life, that he is not ready to make in the interest of France.”...

For several days after abdicating, Napoleon remained in Fontainebleau
practically deserted by his old comrades in arms, who were anxious
to make peace with the new government, now that Louis XVIII had been
proclaimed king. On the night of the 12th of April he tried to poison
himself, but the attempt failed, for the toxic drug, which he had
always carried on his person since the retreat from Moscow, had lost
its power. He soon recovered, however, from his depression, and on the
20th of April, 1814, signed the treaty of Fontainebleau, by which he
was given the sovereignty of the island of Elba, and retained the title
of Emperor.

The story of the Spanish campaign, which had a potent influence in
causing Napoleon’s ruin, is marked by many brilliant feats of arms
on the part of the French, but the country could no longer be held.
Finally, by the successful advance of Wellington, the Spanish war
became merged in the general defense of French territory, when France
was invaded by the coalition in 1814. On Spanish soil the final
disaster came at the battle of Vitoria, June 21, 1813, where the
French lost 7000 men, 180 pieces of artillery, and nearly all their
baggage trains. One of the great mistakes of the Peninsular War was
Soult’s refusal to give battle to Wellington in 1812, when all the
advantages in numbers were on his side. Later on, though he was in a
far inferior position, he proved a most obstinate opponent, contesting
Wellington’s march north at every step with an army inferior to that
under his opponent. He gave way slowly, and while Napoleon was fighting
the allies in his last campaign before his abdication, Soult had
been forced to withdraw from Bayonne, and then from Toulouse, which
Wellington entered on the 12th of April, 1814.

It is generally held by critics that the war in Spain was a most
serious mistake from start to finish, and was the chief cause of
Napoleon’s ruin. Whatever share in the failure of the imperial policy
in the Peninsula may be assigned to the mediocre capacity of Joseph and
to the confused strategy of the French armies due to the jealousies of
the marshals, a large part of the responsibility falls to the account
of Napoleon himself. He left his work half done in the Peninsula, where
he underrated the difficulties of conquest. He reckoned that it would
cost him but 12,000 men! As a matter of fact, it kept a large number
of his best troops occupied at a time when they were most needed. It
was sheer folly to undertake the Russian campaign while Spain was still
far from being pacified. It was also culpably bad tactics to allow
Wellington to destroy the prestige of French soldiers and generals,
and it was close to madness, in 1813, not to withdraw altogether from
Spain, when every man was needed in France to defend its frontiers from
the coalition. On the other hand, while Spain’s resistance to French
arms was a glorious record of patriotism, modern Spain has paid very
dear for its glory. All the elements of reaction were interested in
the downfall of the Napoleonic régime, and in no other country, not
even Italy, did the restoration of the Bourbon dynasty produce such
deplorable maladministration and civil disorder.

The dramatic farewell of the Emperor to his troops at Fontainebleau
makes a picturesque “mise-en-scène” for the close of a tragedy; it is
unfortunate that the spectacular instincts of his genius induced him
to accept the ridiculous rôle of sovereign of the island of Elba. It
would have been more dignified for him to have refused the offer of the
allies, and to have exchanged the rôle of a “roi fainéant” for that of
a private individual. Nothing illustrates the parvenu traits of his
character more than his desire to preserve the shadow of the royal
dignity, even if he had to accept bounty from the hands of a Bourbon
king to maintain it.

The allies fully realized the danger of his proximity in Elba, and
unofficially there were various plans discussed with a view to rid
themselves of their dangerous neighbor. Talleyrand was plotting to have
him imprisoned, while the English urged deportation to an inaccessible
island. Napoleon, who was an admirable actor, accommodated himself to
his Lilliputian kingdom and to his mimic court, and adopted the pose
of a modern Timoleon. “I wish to live henceforth,” he said, “like a
justice of the peace. The Emperor is dead, I am no longer anything. I
think of nothing outside of my small island. I exist no longer for the
world. Nothing now interests me but my family, my cottage, my cows, and
my mules.” His demands were not so modest as his words appear, for he
spent nearly 2,000,000 francs at Elba in eight months.

He complained bitterly at being separated from his son and his wife,
both of whom Francis kept in Vienna. There was no intention that they
should be allowed to rejoin the Emperor; indeed, Marie Louise, who
was of a very passive disposition, was content not to see her husband
again, especially after Metternich had supplied her with an admirer,
General Neippberg. It might have been wiser, certainly it would have
been more humane, if the allies had adopted a less stringent policy
of isolation. Whatever one may think of the sincerity of Napoleon’s
sentiments, he struck a true note, when he wrote the words “my son has
been taken from me, as were formerly the children of the vanquished, to
adorn the triumph of their conqueror. One cannot find in modern times
an example of such barbarity.” He was not entirely dejected, for he
was visited by his mother and his youngest sister, and though the king
of Rome was withheld from him, an irregular heir was brought to Elba
by the Countess Walinska, whom Napoleon had met some years before in
Poland.

There were financial embarrassments, which made impossible the idyllic
life the exiled monarch had mapped out for himself; the income
stipulated by the treaty of Fontainebleau was not paid. But there
were more weighty reasons for the flight from Elba, which occurred
early in 1815 (February 26). For some time Napoleon had been in secret
communication with Murat, probably with a view to restoring the kingdom
of Italy, through coöperation from Naples. This scheme promised more
difficulties than a return to France, where the Bourbon restoration
was not popular, and where the army and its generals were far from
being satisfied with their new situation, under a king who favored
the lifelong supporters of his cause. Plans had been concocted during
the winter to dethrone Louis XVIII, in which both the Bonapartist
sympathizers and some of the old revolutionary leaders had acted
together. On hearing of this, Napoleon considered that the moment
was opportune for his reappearance on French soil. With 1100 of his
veterans who had acted as his guard at Elba, he reached southern France
in safety. As the prevailing sentiment in this region was royalist, he
made his way with his small band through the Alps to Grenoble, marching
sometimes as much as thirty miles a day. By the peasants of the country
he was welcomed everywhere with enthusiasm. From Paris orders were sent
to treat him as an outlaw.

The critical time came at Grenoble, when Napoleon’s dramatic qualities
helped him to secure the allegiance of his old troops. He marched
impressively at the head of his veterans to within gunshot distance
of a regiment drawn up in his way. “Soldiers,” he said, “look well at
me. If there is among you one soldier who wishes to kill his Emperor
he can do it. I come to offer myself for you to shoot.” The effect was
instantaneous, and the answer to his appeal was the old familiar cry,
“Long live the Emperor.”

The enthusiasm increased as he proceeded farther north. Nothing
could arrest it or prevent the defection of the troops, not even the
appeals for loyalty to the Bourbon king, addressed to their men by the
marshals, who strove to outdo one another in their official abuse of
the enterprise. Soult spoke of Napoleon as an adventurer; others called
him a public enemy or a mad brigand, while Ney undertook to bring him
to Paris in an iron cage. The army cared nothing for these criticisms
or warnings; even Ney himself joined the movement and turned over his
troops to the “man from Elba.” By the 20th of March Napoleon was in
Paris at the Tuileries; his marvelous progress was a restoration, not
based on diplomacy, but made possible by the enthusiastic loyalty of
the population, and the rank and file of the army. Not a gun had been
fired. At Grenoble it had been the soldiers who had refused to obey
their officers’ command, when told to shoot. Afterwards there was no
officer found willing to repeat the command.

The question of establishing a new government was solved by
inaugurating a liberal constitutional rule. Napoleon seemed once again
to remember that he was the creation of the Revolution. As an evidence
of his sincerity to the tradition of the Republic, he selected as
his chief adviser, Benjamin Constant, the old Jacobin leader, whose
independence a few years before Napoleon had so much resented when
Constant had led the opposition in the Tribunate. All these things
were now forgotten. “Public discussions, free elections, responsible
ministers, liberty of the press; I want all this. I am a man of the
people! If the people want liberty, I am bound to give it.” Under the
new government, which was accepted by a small vote, owing to the number
of those who stayed away from the polls, the elections returned a
majority of liberals and republicans, who were not in sympathy with the
restored empire. Many preferred to have a regency with Napoleon’s son
or the Duke of Orléans. But the real hopelessness of the situation came
from the implacable attitude of the allies. At the Congress of Vienna,
where the great powers were rearranging the map of Europe amidst much
jealousy and intrigue, they at least agreed on one subject: the refusal
to allow Napoleon to rule France. That devoted country was put under an
interdict. The four powers agreed to fight the French Emperor with a
coalition army of more than 1,000,000 men. To oppose this immense force
Davout, acting under Napoleon’s directions, had in a few weeks got
together for the purpose of national defense 500,000 men to be ready by
the end of June. Elaborate plans were made to protect the frontiers,
and Napoleon proposed to take the offensive without waiting for the
allies to invade the country.

The nearest allied army was in Belgium, composed of 100,000 English
and Dutch under Wellington, and 150,000 Prussians under Blücher.
Napoleon set out to oppose these forces with 180,000 men, intending to
get between the English and the Prussians and beat them separately,
trusting to the well-known rapidity of his movements to keep them
from joining. Strategically the plan was a brilliant one, but it was
not capably executed. Ney, at Quatre Bras, did not win a complete
victory over the English because the engagement was begun too late. At
Ligny, Napoleon attacked Blücher, who fought obstinately, though he
lost 20,000 men, and was not completely crushed as had been planned.
Instead of withdrawing in confusion, as had been expected, Blücher
set out to join Wellington’s troops. Grouchy, who was sent in pursuit
of the Prussians, did not know of this operation and was under the
impression that he was carrying out properly his instructions to
pursue the Prussians alone, whereas the greater part of the Prussian
army had already come in touch with Wellington, and Grouchy failed,
therefore, to bring his men back in time to Waterloo where they were
needed. Wellington was strongly intrenched and all attempts to take his
position failed. The battle, begun at 11 A.M. on June 18, 1815, was not
decided until five o’clock, when Blücher effected his junction with
the English forces. It was a most desperate engagement, for Napoleon
realized what depended on it. The losses were 32,000 French and 22,000
of the allies.

A second act of abdication was now imposed upon Napoleon, who accepted
it, resigning in favor of his son. He even offered to serve as a simple
general to prevent the allies from capturing Paris. This was not an
absolutely chimerical proposal, for there was an enormous mass of men
gathered by Davout, ready to fight even after the defeat of Waterloo.
But the elected representatives would not hear of continuing the
struggle. Napoleon lingered for several days near Paris, at Malmaison,
and it was only when he was advised by the temporary government
that they could not be responsible for his personal safety, that he
traveled towards the west, where his friends were arranging that he
should be taken on an American vessel to the United States. The sea
coast was watched by British cruisers, so the defeated conqueror
decided to surrender himself to the British, intending to claim their
hospitality and protection as a guest, not as a prisoner. Apparently,
Napoleon rejected the plan to cross the Atlantic “incognito,” for
the more spectacular one of throwing himself on the mercy of his
most bitter antagonists, because he counted on finding a protection
under the constitutional régime of Great Britain, and especially
on the ability of the liberal opposition to prevent him from being
treated with exceptional harshness. He realized, too, that it would
be most dangerous for him to fall into the hands of any of the allied
Continental Powers, who might have had him condemned to death by a
court-martial or immured in close confinement. It is known that the
British premier, Castlereagh, hoped that Napoleon would fall into the
hands of Louis XVIII and be treated as a rebel. Therefore, when the
vessel which carried him reached the English coast, there was some
hesitation as to the treatment he would receive.

Finally, at the end of July, the problem was solved by arranging to
send the prisoner to the Island of St. Helena, because, on account of
its isolation, there would be little chance of escape. The climate was
healthy, close confinement would not be necessary, and Napoleon was
permitted to take a suite of servants and friends with him. During his
residence at Elba, the plan of a removal of the Emperor to St. Helena
had been discussed by the Powers at the Congress of Vienna; perhaps
the knowledge of this fact may have contributed largely to induce the
flight from Elba and the short-lived attempt to restore the empire.

Acting under international agreement, England became responsible for
the guardianship of Napoleon, who was called the prisoner of the
Powers. In October, 1815, began the captivity at St. Helena. It was
naturally a trying experience to a man who had lately played so great a
rôle in the world, and Napoleon did not have the temperament to endure
so conspicuous a change in fortune. He instantly began a campaign to
secure his release from captivity. Reckoning on the action of public
opinion in England working in his behalf, he left nothing undone to
exaggerate the onerous conditions under which he lived as an exile. On
its side, the British government, which was being administered by men
who represented a selfish oligarchy, and who had to their credit a long
record of inefficiency, corruption, and attacks on popular rights, was
not likely to show especial consideration to a fallen antagonist at St.
Helena. A regular system of persecution, inane and petty, was invented,
and in applying it the governor of the island, Sir Hudson Lowe, a man
of morose temper, whose character is admirably indicated by his name,
showed himself a master.

There were various plans for aiding an escape, many of them originating
in the United States. Even an attack on St. Helena was discussed by
Napoleon’s followers, some of whom were on the American continent as
participants in the Brazilian war of independence against Portugal.
But Napoleon refused to consider any such methods of relief. “I could
not be in America six months,” he said, “without being attacked by
the murderers, whom the royalist committees, that returned to France
in the train of the Count d’Artois, have hired against me. In America
I see nothing but murder and oblivion, so I prefer to stay on at St.
Helena.” He saw truly that, in a life of freedom on the other side of
the Atlantic, there would be little chance of posing as the victim of
misfortune and maltreatment, and it was on the maintenance of this
pose that he built his hope of relief from captivity, perhaps even
of a return to his old place as ruler of France, for he counted on
the expulsion of the Bourbons and a reaction of popular feeling in
his behalf. A change of ministry in England also he looked forward to
as the opening of an avenue of escape to Europe. He refused to take
exercise because, in his walks, according to regulations, he had to
be accompanied by an English officer; therefore, he blamed his bad
health on the British government. Care was taken by publications in
London to detail at length the sufferings of the captive. Incessant
complaints were made of the trying climate of the island, the aim being
to represent the banishment to St. Helena as nothing but a plan to get
rid of Napoleon by the toxic effects of a tropical atmosphere. Indeed,
the bad climate of St. Helena has become an inseparable part of the
Napoleonic legend, yet we know that Napoleon said to members of his own
suite, that if he had to live an exile, St. Helena was, after all, the
best spot.

As the years passed, nothing was changed, for the Whigs in England were
not strong enough to get any measures though Parliament favorable to
Napoleon, and in 1818 the five Great Powers issued a signed statement
that they approved of the strict treatment of the prisoner by the
British government, and resolved that all correspondence with Napoleon,
such as sending money or other communications, which was not submitted
to the inspection of the governor, must be regarded as an attack on the
public safety and punished accordingly.

Under the régime of no exercise imposed upon himself by Napoleon, his
health became impaired; his manner of life accentuated the symptoms
of a disease, cancer of the stomach, which had appeared long before
the period of his exile. It was an inherited malady, for his father
had died of it, also his eldest sister. Some relief was secured by his
adopting a more active life in 1819; but with the beginning of the year
1821, the progress of the disease was rapid; exercise was no longer
possible, and even occasional dictation was found to be an exhausting
task. In April the condition of the prisoner was evidently hopeless,
and after he was assured on this point by a surgeon of the British
army, Napoleon dictated his testament to Montholon, one of his faithful
companions. After his death, which took place on May 5, 1821, the body
of the great captain was buried not far from Longwood, his residence.
Nearly a generation elapsed before it was carried to its present
resting place beneath the dome of the Invalides at Paris.




IX THE NAPOLEONIC REGIME


During the captivity at St. Helena much attention was given by Napoleon
to the dictation of his memoirs. These, however, cover only a short
portion of his career and are confessedly apologetic in character. They
are shrewdly constructed, often with a gross disregard of accuracy, in
order to influence public opinion in his favor. In his conversations
also he made good use of his interlocutors, to build up that legend of
Napoleonic infallibility and good faith that soon found a receptive
atmosphere in the prevalent romanticism of European society. He was
convinced to the end of his life that Bourbon rule in France could not
last, and he looked forward to a time when his son would be restored.
In summing up his own career, he claimed that his dictatorship was
a necessity. “Should I be accused of having loved war too much, the
historian will demonstrate that I was never the aggressor. Should I be
censured for desiring universal empire for myself, he will show that
that was the product of circumstances, and how my enemies drove me to
it, step by step.”

In many passages in the same strain Napoleon curiously manifests his
adhesion to the principles and phrases of the idealogues, on whom as
a ruler he heaped so much scorn. It may be doubted whether the base
metal of his rhetoric would have become current, if the Powers who
participated in the Congress of Vienna had not introduced as their
maxims of political morality the inflated and transparently insincere
professions of the Holy Alliance. Indeed, from the beginning to the end
of the Napoleonic period, the point of view that the coalitions against
him were fighting in behalf of nationalism and liberty is little short
of absurd. At almost any time France under Napoleon might have arranged
an alliance with England by offering her the bait of commercial
concessions; and even more unsubstantial than the Napoleonic legend
is its antithesis, that the Tory oligarchy of England were spending
hundreds of millions of pounds of their good money for the benefit of
the peoples and states on the Continent.

Napoleon’s inferiority cannot be discovered in his lack of morality as
a ruler, if morality be determined according to the standards of the
allied Powers; his chief opponents were trained and acted according to
the principles adopted in the partition of Poland. His lack of scruples
carried him farther, simply because of the immeasurable distance
between his own genius and the commonplace characteristics of any of
his antagonists. He built up his personal rule on his military skill
by consistent and well-directed effort. France was made the instrument
of his ambition; it was in his interest, not in the interest of the
country he ruled, that Germany, Italy, and Spain were made dependent
states. France would have been more solidly established, if, in spite
of all military success abroad, her ruler had been satisfied with her
natural frontiers.

Under Napoleon the divorce of national from personal aims is seen
in the changed character of the French army; there was no longer a
general levy as in the time of the Revolution, for in 1800-1804,
service was regulated by lot and by permission to provide substitutes.
Middle-class families as a rule took advantage of this permission, and
there were plenty of opportunities, because old soldiers were anxious
to re-engage for the service. War had become a profession. The mass of
the troops were made up of children of the people, while the officers
were mostly scions of well-to-do families. As time went on, owing to
the exhausting character of the wars, one year’s conscription was not
enough. Sometimes there was an anticipated enrollment of the conscripts
of the two following years. Then came the turn of the National Guard,
made up of men from forty to sixty years, and of those from twenty to
twenty-six who had been relieved from regular army service, because of
their poor physique or because their families were dependent on their
work; these, too, were placed on the active list.

Altogether 3,153,000 French soldiers were called upon for military duty
from 1800 to 1815. The losses from wounds and disease, apart from the
fatalities on the battlefield, were enormous. In all, the victims of
these wars are reckoned at 1,750,000 men. Oftentimes, those who desired
to escape military duty had to buy themselves off as many as three
times, and yet, even after spending $4000, they were obliged to take
part in the campaigns of 1813 and 1814. Finally, owing to the scarcity
of officers, requisition by force was resorted to. Lists were made of
special families in Paris and the departments, whose children between
the ages of sixteen and eighteen were constrained to prepare themselves
for service at the military school at St. Cyr.

In the complicated system of the Napoleonic army, a place had to be
made for the various national elements and groups, who served in it.
But the characteristic feature was the Imperial Guard. In itself it was
a replica on a small scale of the whole force, because the various arms
of the service all found a place within it. It grew out of the consular
guard, first numbering 7000 men, then increased to 50,000, until it
was finally brought to 92,000 in 1813. The Guard was always with the
Emperor in a campaign, it fought under his eye, and was ordinarily
kept in reserve for a critical point of the battle. The section of
the Guard which was closest to the Emperor, was the mounted scouts or
“guides,” who wore a green uniform, the imperial color, and were first
commanded by his son-in-law, Eugène, and then by another member of the
Beauharnais house, Lefebre-Desnouettes. Napoleon described them as a
body of brave men who had always seen the enemies’ cavalry flee before
them. A part of this division was a corp of Mamelouks, recruited in the
Eastern campaign, from the Coptic and Syrian volunteers, a picturesque
body of men that still continued to wear Oriental dress, though later
on many Frenchmen were added to their number.

In the infantry divisions of the army little change was made; there
were grenadier regiments composed of the tallest and best proportioned
soldiers, and companies of slight, undersized men intended for the
kind of work done in the present Italian army by the bersaglieri.
Experiments with dismounted dragoons proved a failure. Napoleon’s
special work was the reorganization of the cavalry, an arm of the
service which had almost altogether disappeared at the time of the
Revolution, because large numbers of the cavalry officers went into
exile on account of their monarchical sympathies. The most conspicuous
branch of the cavalry was the hussars, who gained a reputation for
dare-devil bravery, and whose charges with drawn sabers were the
dramatic feature of an engagement. They were led by generals of the
type of Murat, Marbot, and Ségur.

As to the French artillery and engineers, their already high reputation
among European armies was fully maintained. In many of Napoleon’s
hardest contested battles, such as Eylau, Friedland, and Wagram,
the cannonading of the French played a decisive part. In the later
campaigns troops of the allied states came to be a more important
element, and they gave the army a cosmopolitan character. There were
German, Swiss, Italian, Spanish, Polish auxiliaries; even Albanians,
Greeks, and Tartars were represented in the enormous masses of men
drawn about the Emperor, in his final efforts to subjugate the European
continent.

The weapons used by the army showed no technical advance on those
employed in the last half of the eighteenth century. The guns were
flint-locks of the model of 1777, and the cannon were of the type
employed in 1765, most of them pieces of 12 and 6 with mortars that had
a carrying power of between 800 and 1900 feet.

Owing to the years of incessant warfare, the administration of the army
was the chief care of the government. It was under the supervision of
the Emperor himself, who was untiring in attending even to the most
minute details. He made frequent inspections, kept in personal touch
with his soldiers, and looked out for their comfort. In preparing for
a campaign he knew with accuracy all matters relating to the equipment
of his troops, the actual resources of the arsenals, and the amount
of military stores. But the army in the field was expected to provide
its own rations. “I made eight campaigns under the empire,” De Brack
said, “and always at the front; I never saw during this whole time a
single army commissary. I never touched a single ration from the army
stores. The soldiers depended on requisitions from the inhabitants or
on pillage.”

It was the Emperor’s maxim that war must support war. When in Spain he
wrote to Dijeon, the administrative director of war in Paris: “Send
back the reserves of cattle; I don’t want any foodstuffs, I have an
abundance of everything. What I need are caissons, military transports,
hats, and shoes; I have never seen a cavalry in which the troops had
as much to eat.” The requisitions that had been found so profitable in
the Italian campaign were continued without any regard for their effect
on the conquered country. Enormous stores of money were accumulated
in this way. After the treaty of Tilsit the treasury of the army was
credited with about $70,000,000, and Napoleon reckoned that he could
continue to make war for five years without increasing French taxation
or asking for a fresh loan.

As companions in arms Napoleon had under him a large number of able
generals, formed just as he had been, in the wars of the Revolution.
When the empire was constituted many became marshals. These were
selected from all classes of society: Davout, MacDonald, Marmont,
Grouchy, Clarke, from the old nobility; Monery, Bernadotte, Soult,
Mortier, Gouvion, Suchet, Brun-Junot, from the middle classes; Jourdan,
Masséna, Augereau, Murat, Bessières, Ney, Lannes, Victor, Oudinot,
Lecourbe, Sebastian, Driant were all children of the people. It was
the policy of the Emperor to have young men in command of his troops;
by 1813 there were forty-one cavalry generals alone, who, though
less than fifty years old, were on the retired list. The life of an
officer was so strenuous that there was little chance of resisting
for long the tremendous demands made on the constitution by the long
marches and frequent battles. Advancement was speedy and the rewards
were munificent; many of the marshals received princely titles with
pay suitable to their rank. For example, Berthier’s annual income was
over $250,000. Masséna, Davout, and Ney were almost as well provided
for. After the battle of Eylau each guest at the Emperor’s table found
under his plate a 1000-franc bill. But these personal rewards were not
at all confined to those in high command. The Emperor was careful to
retain the devoted loyalty of his men by words and acts of personal
note, which by their spontaneity kept the army from being turned into
a mere mechanical organism. He went among the men, rewarding those
who had distinguished themselves on the field of battle, and showing
consideration to the wounded and the weary. The weak spot in the
army was the practice of pillage. The soldiers were forced to it and
regarded it as their right. Their exactions, too, were imitated on
a large scale by the commanders and marshals. Masséna made millions
by selling trade permits during the blockade against England. Soult
despoiled Spain of works of art and exacted large contributions from
rich monasteries.

In his economic policy, Napoleon followed the principles of the Bourbon
princes; he was a thorough-going disciple of the mercantilist school.
It was his purpose to ruin England; hence the severest enactments were
promulgated against colonial products and cotton, both prime articles
of English trade. Vessels touching English ports were excluded; not
only were high duties imposed on coffee, sugar, and cocoa, but cotton
fabrics were entirely prohibited. In 1806, when the English government
declared all the French ports from Brest to the mouth of the Elbe
closed, and subjected neutral vessels to search, Napoleon issued
the decree of Berlin by which the British Isles were declared to be
blockaded. All commerce with England was prohibited and no ship which
touched the English shores was admitted to a French port. Then came
from London the so-called Orders in Council by which neutral ships were
required to go to London, Malta, and other places subject to England,
to have their cargoes examined and to get permits to trade which had
to be paid for at high rates. The next stage in this economic war was
Napoleon’s decree of Milan, 1807 (December 7), which declared that
every ship which had been visited by English officials or had touched
at an English port should lose its nationality and be regarded as a
lawful prize.

These drastic measures were never rigidly applied, for there grew up
a system of exemption by special permits excepting certain articles.
Smuggling, practised on a large scale, acted also as an ameliorating
factor; indeed, after 1810 colonial products were admitted into France,
though at a high rate of duty, but the war against cotton continued.
Everywhere it was found, it was seized, and confiscated or burnt.
The result of this system for France was worse than for England, for
by her mastery of the sea the latter power was able to maintain both
her industries and her credit, while France had to pay more for raw
products and, the export of her goods being hampered, the price in
the home market was artificially lowered. In 1802, foreign commerce
reached a sum total of 790,000,000 francs, of which exports accounted
for 325,000,000; ten years later the figures were 640,000,000 and
383,000,000, respectively.

In finance the Napoleonic régime showed no disposition to make
innovations; only in details was the fiscal system altered. There
was no regular budget in the modern sense of the term; the accounts
for each year were kept open, and in order to make the yearly
balance, the resources of other years were drawn upon. Apart from
these financial irregularities, which, in the absence of any real
legislative representative system, were not criticised or counted, the
administration of the finances of the empire was carefully directed.
The officials were required to do their work well; there was no red
tape, and full value was received for every franc expended. Napoleon
was vigilant in defending the interests of the treasury, and he treated
it as his own patrimony.

In no phase do his gifts as a ruler shine more conspicuously than in
his refusal to increase the public debt to any considerable extent. At
the fall of the Directory there were 46,000,000 francs of Rentes in
French government bonds; his government added only 17,000,000 to this
amount. He did not trust to credit to carry on his wars, the bankruptcy
of the Revolution being too fresh in the minds of French bondholders.
We have noticed before how he expected the extraordinary expenses of
warfare to be supplied. His forethought in raising contributions,
hard as it was for the conquered countries, was a blessing to French
investors.

This care for a sound financial position sustained confidence in
the Napoleonic régime, even when its master was engaged in the most
hazardous military adventures. In the autumn of 1799 government five
per cents. were quoted at seven francs. In 1800 the lowest quotation
was 17.37, the highest 44. Each year the rise continued until it
attained its extreme limit in May, 1808, when it marked 88.15 francs.
Then there was a gradual fall. In March, 1814, the quotation was 45
francs, a year later it had risen to 81.65. Napoleon gave as much and
as watchful attention to the maintenance of public credit as he did to
the details of army administration. At the beginning of the Consulate
he proceeded to restore public confidence by abolishing forced loans
and by introducing specie payments. His only questionable financial
operation was the employment of the money allotted to the sinking fund,
to sustain artificially, at critical periods, the price of government
securities, in order to deceive public opinion as to the importance of
French defeats.

One of the first steps taken by Napoleon on his attainment of the
supreme executive power was to make peace with the Church. Under the
anti-religious legislation of the Revolution, in which most of the
clergy and bishops had been declared outlaws, the social order had
added to its other ills religious chaos. After the battle of Marengo
in 1800, Napoleon, in an address to the clergy of Milan, laid down
the following principles for his church policy: “No society can exist
without morality, and there can be no good morality without religion.
Religion alone gives the state a firm and stable support. A society
without religion is like a vessel without a compass; France, taught by
her misfortunes, has finally opened her eyes; she has recognized that
the Catholic religion is, as it were, an anchor, that alone can keep
her steady, in her time of stress.”

He had no purpose, however, to allow the Church to secure for itself an
organization, that might appeal to the people, apart from or contrary
to the government. His ideal was an ecclesiastical machine which could
be controlled exactly as if it were a government department. Under
such assumptions a concordat was arranged with the Papacy, whose power
Napoleon respected. He ordered his agent at Rome, who conducted the
negotiations, to treat the Pope as if he had 200,000 men. For some time
the discussion dragged, because Pius VII refused to accept certain
reforms which seemed to threaten the independence of the hierarchy.
Finally, the terms were arranged under which the First Consul gained
his two chief points: the introduction of an entirely new episcopate
with a reduction of dioceses and the recognition of the alienation of
church property during the Revolution.

Among the most important features of this instrument was the
declaration that the Catholic religion should be freely exercised in
France, but that it was to conform itself to such police regulations
as the government should judge necessary for public tranquillity.
The new bishops were to be presented by the state and instituted by
the Pope. Parish priests were to be appointed by the bishops, but
the appointment could be vetoed by the state, and the payment of the
bishops and priests was undertaken by the government. A number of the
former constitutional bishops, who had been in schism with Rome, were
appointed in the new hierarchy which now numbered sixty members. The
introduction of the clause mentioned above relating to the police
powers of the state was used as a ground for a whole series of “organic
articles” by which the French Church was bound hand and foot to the
Napoleonic system; they were but a revival of the Gallican principles
adopted by Louis XIV to help him to become the supreme administrator
of the Church in France. Rome naturally protested, for these articles
interfered with the autocratic system of the Curia. Acts of the Holy
See and decrees of councils were not legalized in France unless they
were verified by the government. Bishops could not consult together
without a license from the government, or retire from their dioceses
temporarily, without a permit. In many other details episcopal
jurisdiction and church autonomy were interfered with. But all protests
were in vain, and Pius VII conformed reluctantly to the will of the
master of Western Europe, hoping that the slow-going diplomacy of his
Secretary of State, Consalvi, would secure future concessions.

The first friction between the Emperor and the Pope occurred over the
introduction of religious orders. None were authorized except certain
orders for women, engaged in charitable or relief work. On December
2, 1804, after much hesitation, the Pope agreed to come to Paris to
participate in the imperial coronation. He was treated with respect,
but during the ceremony, when he was about to place the crown on
Napoleon’s head, the Emperor with a show of displeasure took it out of
his hands and crowned himself. On one ground or another Pius was kept
in France for several months, as Napoleon was glad to have the head of
the Church placed in a subordinate position before the world as a kind
of Grand Almoner to the Emperor of the French.

New difficulties arose over the Pope’s refusal to annul the marriage of
Jerome Bonaparte with Miss Patterson, an American, who had been married
to Napoleon’s youngest brother in Baltimore in 1803 by the Roman
Catholic bishop of that city. There were fresh grounds of alienation
when, in 1806, Napoleon wrote to the Pope, who wished to be neutral,
to close his ports to English vessels and to expel from his court
English, Russians, and Swedes. “You are,” he said, “the sovereign of
Rome, but I am the Emperor; my enemies should be yours.” As the Pope
still proclaimed his neutrality, Napoleon seized the Papal States, and
finally occupied Rome in February, 1808. For fourteen months the Pope
was kept a virtual prisoner in the Quirinal under a guard of honor;
he was not allowed to communicate with the cardinals, twenty-four of
whom had been, by Napoleon’s orders, deported. Finally, in May, 1809,
a decree was issued by which the States of the Church were annexed to
the French Empire. Rome was proclaimed a free imperial city, the Pope
being allowed to keep only his palace and his estates with an income of
2,000,000 francs.

Napoleon spoke of himself as revoking the Donation of Constantine; his
intention was to make of Paris the religious head of the world with
himself the director of its religion as well as of its secular affairs.
Pius VII’s reply was a bull of excommunication against the Emperor,
who, however, was not mentioned by name in the document. It only spoke
in general terms of those who were guilty of deeds of violence in the
States of the Church. Napoleon affected to pay little attention to the
Papal protest, but he acted promptly, first by appealing to the old
principle of the Gallican Church, that denied the right of the Pope to
excommunicate a sovereign of a state. Then he had the person of the
Pope seized by the commander of the Roman gendarmerie. No resistance
was offered, and Pius was conducted as a prisoner, in a closed carriage
with drawn shades, to Savona on the western Riviera near Genoa. Here
he was kept carefully guarded, but he refused all terms of settlement
that insisted on his surrender of the temporal power. No one was
allowed to see him except in the presence of his guards. When Napoleon
desired canonical institution for some newly appointed bishops, the
Pope refused, on the ground that he was deprived of the advice of his
cardinals. The situation was embarrassing, for there were, in August,
1809, twenty-seven vacant sees in France. Efforts were made to find
a solution by calling a council at Paris; but the ecclesiastics, on
assembling there, declared that the Pope’s consent was necessary.
Napoleon then ordered the bishops to take charge of their dioceses
without institution from the Pope. But a brief came from Savona to
Cardinal Maury, the archbishop designate of Paris, enjoining him from
administering his diocese without the Pope’s consent. The Emperor now
treated the prisoner of Savona with even more rigor, put in prison the
clergy whom he suspected of bringing the Papal brief, and deprived Pius
of all means of corresponding with the outside world.

At this time the divorce of Napoleon from Josephine took place.
The difficulties of the civil law were got over easily, although
the Emperor had to violate the provisions of his own code, and the
ecclesiastical committee of the diocese of Paris showed itself equally
obliging, by recognizing the two imperial claims, that there had been
an absence of consent to his religious marriage of 1804, and that there
were defects of form in the ceremony itself. When the marriage with
the Austrian archduchess was celebrated on April 2, 1810, thirteen of
the twenty-six cardinals present in Paris refused to be present at
the religious ceremony. This behavior excited Napoleon to an act of
personal revenge, by which the recalcitrant princes of the Church were
deprived of the insignia of their office, were placed under police
supervision, and had to forego their allowance.

In 1811, a council was held in Paris to decide on the question as
to the rights of the Pope in the matter of institution. Some of the
bishops showed independence, urging the Emperor to restore Pius
to liberty. There was a general agreement that Papal consent was
necessary. In the meantime the Pope had been cajoled or bullied into
accepting a clause, to be added to the Concordat, that canonical
institution should be given within a fixed period, and if it were not
given, it might be granted by the metropolitan or oldest bishop of
the province. Just before the invasion of Russia the aged Pope was
brought incognito from Savona to Fontainebleau. During the trip, though
he was seriously ill, no consideration was shown him, and for many
months after his arrival he was confined to his bed. Only cardinals and
prelates who were partisans of Napoleon were allowed to see him. The
defeat in Russia brought about a radical change; Napoleon now saw the
advantage of arranging some terms of peace, because the harsh treatment
of the venerable head of the greatest Christian communion was being
used against his persecutor, both at home and abroad. Negotiations were
resumed, and under personal pressure from Napoleon, Pius, on condition
that the domains of the Holy See were restored to him, made large
concessions. He gave Napoleon the right to fill all the bishoprics of
France and Italy, except those in the vicinity of Rome, and he allowed
metropolitan institution. Afterwards, on consulting with his advisers,
the Pope published a retraction of his consent, by which the provisions
he had made were annulled. No attention was paid by the Emperor to
this change of attitude except that he ordered the imprisonment of the
Cardinal de Pietro, who he thought had persuaded Pius to change his
mind.

In 1814, before the last campaign on French territory, Napoleon
gave the Pope permission to leave Fontainebleau, and shortly before
the final defeat he restored the Papal States. There were no
further relations between the two, the restored Pope and dethroned
Emperor, except that Pius VII, after the Hundred Days and Waterloo,
magnanimously offered the Bonaparte family an asylum in Rome, and later
on made representations to the English government with a view to
reduce the severity of Napoleon’s captivity at St. Helena.

It is customary to ascribe to Napoleon creative originality as a
lawgiver. This is a part of the Napoleonic legend that has been upset
by the industrious investigations of the partisans of the French
Revolution, working under a famous professor at the Sorbonne. In
many ways these scholars have rescued from obscurity the positive
achievements of the Revolutionary statesmen, and it is now certain that
the various codes of Napoleon carry out the principles of procedure and
justice foreshadowed in the preliminary work done by the Constituent
Assembly and the Convention. Napoleon’s own temperament is seen in the
influence he brought to bear upon his lawyers to provide for rapidity
in procedure and in execution of judgment, and in the increase of
tribunals in which business men played an important rôle.

In education the Emperor’s influence was not so beneficial. He had
little sympathy with any type of training that was not practical,
and he had no sympathy at all with professorial free speech. Indeed,
he expected the teaching profession to take its model from the Grand
Army. There was to be little chance for personal development, each man
marched in an appropriate rank under orders from a superior. The result
of the iron-clad educational régime is acknowledged to have been most
unsatisfactory, and it has been one of the most brilliant and most
arduous achievements of the Third Republic to abolish the Napoleonic
ideals of university teaching, and to substitute for them a system
which encourages local and personal freedom. The change has already
justified itself, for France is now close to Germany as the home of
erudition in many fields of research in which Germany for years justly
claimed an uncontested primacy.

The supreme position of Napoleon as a military commander has often
led his admirers to affirm that he was infallible in his strategy. He
encouraged this tendency at St. Helena, for, when he was composing
his Memoirs, he invariably shifted the responsibility for errors in
his battles to the shoulders of his lieutenants. He was an expert
in manipulating figures, and he had such a good memory that he could
always compose a most plausible lie. For years people supposed that
the Russian expedition failed because of the extreme cold, and that
the defeat at Waterloo might have been turned into a victory if
the Emperor’s orders had been strictly carried out by Grouchy and
if Ney had advanced more rapidly, as he was bidden to do by his
commander-in-chief. These are misrepresentations--are the efforts of
a man who wished to manipulate history for his own benefit. When,
however, he was not dictating as an exile, Napoleon often enough
expressed the truth about himself spontaneously. He allowed, for
example, that he had been repeatedly defeated, and on more than one
occasion he conceded to his marshals the possession of military talent
superior to his own. One year after the Russian disaster he owned that
the invasion had been ruined by blunders of his own. He was just as
sweeping, too, in condemning various critical phases of his policy.
He condemned the attack upon Spain not only as a wholesale blunder,
but as a series of blunders in detail, and he characterized the
invasion of Russia, while the Spanish War was unfinished, as a hopeless
undertaking. Once, speaking to Talleyrand, he said, “I have made so
many mistakes in my life that I am not ashamed of them.” It was a
characteristic trait of his outlook on his own career that he imagined
himself carried on as the instrument of deeds and acts which he could
not justify. “I am not,” he once exclaimed, “a man, but a thing.”

Napoleon’s lack of appreciation of moral standards both in public and
in private life is notorious, but he was no hypocrite. The one pleasing
side of his character was his devotion to his family. Here the clear
light of his intellect could not reach. It is true he made grotesque
mistakes in putting his brothers into positions for which they were
manifestly unfitted, but this sign of weakness shows that, after all,
Napoleon was not entirely selfish. He seems to have had little actual
patriotism. He was not a Frenchman either by descent or by sympathy,
and what he accomplished was done at the expense of the French people.
He understood some of their characteristics, but his own point of view
was so practical that there were whole fields of achievement signalized
in the records of French genius that he never appreciated. On lower
planes of action, however, his driving power was immense, and the very
terror he created by the success of his concentrated individualism
prepared the way for that progressive acknowledgment of public justice
and social righteousness which characterized the civilization of
the nineteenth century. In spite of all his limitations, it seems
impossible to point to a more marvelous career in the annals of
humanity.




INDEX


  A

  Addington, 400

  Ajaccio, 402

  Alcuin, 181-183

  Alexander of Russia, forms alliance with Napoleon, 417;
    covets Finland and Sweden, 421;
    sympathizes with French defeat in Spain, 422;
    confers with Napoleon at Erfurt, 422;
    takes aggressive attitude toward the French, 429

  Alexander the Great, his descent, 7;
    succeeds to the throne of Macedon, 5;
    educated under Aristotle, 5;
    his precociousness, 5;
    master of Macedon, 7;
    checks uprisings, 8, 9;
    declared guardian of the temple, 9;
    renews Hellenic league, 9;
    begins his reign with crime, 9-10;
    leaves Amphipolis, 11;
    offers thanks to Dionysus, 11;
    marches up the Danube, 11;
    his rumored assassination, 13;
    razes Thebes, 14-15;
    his placability toward Athens, 16-17;
    plans to dethrone Persia’s king, 18;
    crosses the Hellespont, 18;
    defeats Persians, 20;
    marches against Halicarnassus, 21;
    concludes peace with the Persians, 25;
    is voted a crown, 25;
    his reply to Darius, 25-26;
    calls himself “Great King of Asia,” 26;
    lays siege to Tyre, 27-28;
    founds Alexandria, 28;
    invades Syria and Egypt, 28-29;
    again defeats Persians, 31;
    proceeds to Babylon, 31;
    razes Persepolis, 32;
    takes Drangiana, 35;
    executes Philotas and Parmenio, 36;
    captures Bessus, 36;
    founds new Alexandria, 36;
    routs the Scythians, 37;
    executes Bessus, 37;
    spears Clitus, 38;
    massacres Sogdianians, 38-39;
    marries Roxane, 39;
    hangs Hermolaus, 40;
    motives for conquest of India, 40-41;
    begins Indian campaign, 42;
    fords the Hydaspes, 42;
    defeats Indian army, 46;
    forced to cease Eastern conquests, 46;
    takes up organization of his empire, 49;
    endeavors to amalgamate Greeks and Persians, 49-53;
    looks after economic development, 52;
    tries to legitimatize his rule in the East, 54-56;
    his death, 57;
    nature of his achievements, 58-59, 64;
    his temperament, 38;
    his lack of statesmanship, 40;
    as an explorer, 46;
    as a general, 11, 59-63

  Alexander’s Conquest of Greece, 4-17

  Alexander’s Conquest of Persia, 17-34

  Alexander’s Empire, 48-64

  Alexander’s Invasion of India, 34-48

  Alexandria, 28, 36, 52

  Almagro, 366, 367

  Alvarado, 336, 337, 340, 362, 365

  Amiens, 402, 409

  Ancients, The, 390, 391, 392

  Andronicus, 232

  Antonius, Marcus, 125

  Ariovistus, prepares to resist Cæsar, 89-90;
    suffers defeat, 90

  Aristotle, Alexander’s tutor, 5

  Assembly, The Constituent, 402

  Atahuallpa, 359-362, 364

  Athens, opposed to Macedonian rule, 7;
    aroused over Thebans’ defeat, 16;
    double-faced toward Alexander, 16;
    sends embassy to Darius, 22

  Attalus, 9, 10

  Austerlitz, Napoleon’s victory at, 412

  Austrians, 380 _et seq._

  Aztecs, 317-322, 338, 343, 344, 345, 346, 347


  B

  Babylon surrenders to Alexander, 31

  Bagration, 431

  Bajesid, son of Murad, murders his brother, 235;
    his first military exploit, 235;
    his repressive measures, 236-238;
    prepares to complete siege of Constantinople, 238;
    proceeds against Hungarians and Roumanians, 239;
    massacres Christians, 242;
    fails before Constantinople, 243;
    defeated by Mongolo, 244;
    his death, 244

  Bajesid, son of Bajesid, proclaimed Sultan, 272;
    defeats Djem, 272;
    wars on Hungary, Morea, and Venice, 273;
    abdicates the throne, 273

  Balboa, 310, 357

  Barras, 377, 378, 388

  Belgæ, The, rise against Romans, 91;
    retreat from Cæsar, 92

  Bernadotte, 405, 429, 436

  Bertoldo, 262

  Bessus, as successor to Darius, 35;
    his stand against the Greeks, 36;
    his execution by Alexander, 37

  Bibulus, 80

  Blücher, 444, 445

  Bolivia, 369

  Bonaparte, Carlo, 371;
    Joseph, arranges armistice at Paris, 439;
    Lucien, 390, 391, 392, 414;
    Napoleon (see Napoleon)

  Borodino, 430

  Brankovitch, 260, 261

  Brutus, his opposition to Cæsarism, 121;
    his share in the conspiracy, 129


  C

  Cadiz, 426

  Cæsar, Julius, youth and education, 67;
    political leanings, 68;
    first public office, 68;
    family connections, 69;
    contests Pompeius’ leadership, 69-70;
    his Agrarian Law, 70;
    as a free-thinker, 71;
    elected Pontifex Maximus, 72;
    supports Catiline, 72;
    opposes death penalty, 73-74;
    seeks alliance with Pompeius, 75-76;
    divorces his wife, 76;
    tries Clodius, 76;
    rules Spain, 77;
    returns to Rome, 78;
    forms alliance with Crassus and Pompeius, 78;
    elected magistrate, 79;
    arrests Cato, 79;
    submits his agrarian measures to the populace, 79;
    his anti-extortion law, 82;
    starts for Gaul, 85;
    defeats the Helvetii, 89;
    defeats Ariovistus, 90;
    crosses the Alps, 90;
    defeats the Belgæ, 94;
    returns to Rome to strengthen triumvirate, 95;
    defeats the Veneti, 96;
    “butchers” the Germans, 97;
    goes to Britain, 98-99;
    defeats Vercingetorix, 102;
    ends Gallic campaign, 102;
    breaks with Pompeius and the Senate, 102;
    outgenerals Pompeius in Spain, 107-108;
    returns to Italy, 111;
    serves as Dictator, 111;
    his second victory over Pompeius, 112-115;
    asserts Roman sovereignty over Egypt, 116;
    is made Dictator by Cæsarian Senate, 117;
    suppresses mutiny among troops, 117-118;
    defeats Scipio in Africa, 119;
    returns triumphantly to Rome, 119;
    beginning autocratic régime, 120;
    his problems and plans, 120-121;
    humbles the Senate, 121;
    reforms the Roman Calender, 122;
    his benevolent paternalism, 122;
    his relations with Cleopatra, 116, 122;
    defeats and executes Cnæus Pompeius, 123;
    turns to Spanish provinces, 124;
    is deified as founder of the Roman Empire, 124;
    plans Eastern campaign, 125;
    is offered a diadem, 125;
    his autocratic ambitions, 126;
    conspired against, 128;
    assassinated, 128-129;
    his sham republicanism, 131;
    his generalship, 86, 131-133;
    his manipulation of military figures, 93

  Cæsar’s Alliance with Pompeius and Crassus, 75-84

  Cæsar’s Beginnings, 65-75

  Cæsar’s Break with Pompeius and the Senate, 102-119

  Cæsar’s Conquest of Gaul, 84-102

  Cæsar’s Supremacy, 119-133

  Cambacérès, 400, 402

  Capac, 352

  Capiastro, 261

  Carloman, 139

  Carolingian Culture, Charles the Great as promoter of, 180;
    Alcuin’s share in, 181-183;
    its literary movement, 184-185;
    its other phases, 186-188

  Catiline, plans social revolution, 72

  Cato, obstructs parliamentary proceedings, 79;
    defeats Crassus’s plan, 81;
    commits suicide, 119

  Charles IV, 420

  Charles VIII, 272

  Charles, Archduke, 424, 425

  Charles the Great, acknowledged sole Frankish King, 139;
    offers peace to Desiderius, 142;
    besieges Pavia, 142;
    honored as Exarch of Ravenna, 143;
    as Patrician, 144, 159, 160;
    his policy with the Saxons, 145;
    his view of the Saxon gods, 146;
    attacks Saxon tribes, 146-147;
    occupies Eresburg, 147;
    his first general assembly, 147;
    strengthens ecclesiastical organization, 147-148;
    his retaliation at Verden, 148;
    his Saxon campaign, 149;
    his drastic measures of pacification, 150;
    his warlike expeditions, 151-158;
    his coronation as Emperor of Rome, 158-165;
    provides for his succession, 167-169;
    his death, 169-170;
    his dress and physical features, 171;
    his marriages and progeny, 171;
    his education and intellectual interests, 172;
    as king and emperor, 172-179;
    as promoter of Carolingian Culture, 180, 185;
    as general, 195-196;
    his relations with the Church, 198-212

  Châtillon, congress of, 438

  Chlodvig, 134

  Church, The, under Charles the Great, 199-212

  Cicero, on Cæsar’s education, 67;
    defeats Cæsar’s agrarian legislation, 70;
    frustrates social revolution, 72-73;
    makes overtures to Pompeius, 75;
    on Cæsar’s administration of Spain, 77;
    refuses to leave aristocratic party, 78;
    opposes Crassus’ legislative measures, 81

  Clitus, 38

  Clodius, 76

  Cleopatra, 5, 116, 122

  Coalitions, Anti-Napoleonic, 388-389, 390, 397-398, 410, 414, 423

  Colonial System, The, 308-309

  Columbus, sordid motives for his voyages, 295-296;
    results of his voyages, 297;
    starts American slave-trade, 298;
    deports Spanish criminals to the Indies, 308;
    dies in Spain, 298;
    his opinion of the Haytians, 306

  Committee of Public Safety, The, 375-376

  Constant, Benjamin, 444

  Constantine, 253, 254, 255, 258

  Consul, Napoleon as, 392;
    the provisional, 393-394;
    the First, 395, 397;
    of State, 394, 396, 401, 404

  Cornwallis, Lord, 400

  Corsica, its heroic struggle for independence, 371

  Cortez, his birth and education, 322;
    his expeditions and conquests, 323-326;
    founds Vera Cruz, 325;
    yearns for Montezuma’s capital, 326;
    punishes disloyalty, 327;
    starts for Aztec capital, 327, 330;
    at the home of Montezuma, 331-334;
    his extreme cruelty, 330 _et seq._;
    imprisons Spanish envoys, 334-335;
    condemns Narvaez and his men, 335;
    wars on Vera Cruz Indians, 338;
    executes Montezuma, 338;
    his perilous escape from the Aztecs, 339;
    plans Mexican siege, 341;
    progress of the expedition, 341-348;
    takes Mexico, 348;
    plans a new city, 348;
    goes to Honduras, 349;
    returns to Mexico, 349;
    his last years, 349-350

  Cromwell, 137

  Cuba, its discovery and occupation, 307;
    barbarities practised on its inhabitants, 307-308

  Curio, Cæsar’s agent at Rome, 104-105

  Cuzco, taken by the Spaniards, 366


  D

  Dagobert, 135

  Darius, resists Alexander in Syria, 22;
    outgeneraled by Alexander, 24;
    recrosses the Euphrates, 24;
    his humiliation, 25;
    gathers another army, 26-27, 29;
    again defeated by Alexander, 31;
    escapes to Media, 31;
    tries to make another stand, 33;
    his assassination, 34

  Dauchan, 221

  Davout, 444, 445

  Demosthenes, leads patriotic Athenians, 7;
    delivers commemoration speech, 8;
    thanks gods for deliverance at Ægæ, 8;
    his relations with Attalus, 9;
    is given means to bribe Greek states, 12;
    aids Thebes’ struggle for restoring independence, 13;
    involved in Harpalus’ scandal, 57

  Desaix, 398, 400

  Desiderius, King of the Lombards, offers his daughter’s hand to
      Charles the Great, 139;
    before the walls of Rome, 140;
    prepares against Northern invasion, 141;
    flees to Pavia, 142;
    surrenders to Charles the Great, 143

  Dionysus, Alexander’s thank offering to, 11

  Directory, The, 379, 380, 382, 383, 384, 388, 389, 390, 392, 393,
      394, 455


  E

  Eastern Emperor, The, 230

  Economic conditions in Charles the Great’s empire, 189-198

  Egypt, invaded by Alexander the Great, 28-29

  Empire, Alexander’s, 48-64;
    Charles’, 172-179;
    Napoleon’s, 407-418;
    Ottoman, 285-292

  Erfurt, 422

  Euphrates, The, Alexander crosses, 29

  Eylau, 416, 425


  F

  Ferdinand, 294, 420

  Five Hundred, The Council of, 377

  Fontainebleau, Napoleon’s farewell at, 441

  Fouché, 423

  Franks, The, 135, 136

  Frederick III, 253

  Frederick the Great, 414, 418

  Free States, The, the final struggle of, 4


  G

  Gaul, Cæsar’s conquest of, 84-102;
    nature of the country, 85

  Giustiniano, 257

  Goethe, 422

  Gold Fever, The, in Hayti, 305-306

  Granada, end of, 294, 295

  Greek Empire, feebleness of the revived, 223-224

  Greek invasion of Persia, averted, 12

  Greek and Persian elements, amalgamation of,
      attempted by Alexander, 49-50

  Greek people, influenced by Persian invasion, 3-4

  Gregory the Great, 136


  H

  Halicarnassus, taken by Alexander, 21

  Harpalus, seeks to stir up revolt, 49;
    his fate in Athens, 57

  Hayti, first European settlement in New World, 300;
    civilization of its natives, 300-302;
    its European colonization, 303;
    its economic exploitation, 303-304;
    discovery of gold in, 304

  Heine, on Napoleon’s power, 415

  Hellenic Confederation, votes Alexander a crown, 25

  Helvetii, defeated by Cæsar, 89

  Hermolaus, hanged by Alexander, 40

  Hundred, The Five, 390, 391, 392

  Hunyadi, 249, 250, 251


  I

  Illyrian campaign, The, 13

  Incas, The, their state of civilization, 350-351;
    rise of their domination, 351-352;
    extent of their conquests, 353;
    their theological ideas, 353-355;
    their government, 355-356;
    as warriors, 357;
    capture and execution of their leader, 364

  India, invasion of, 35-38, 40-41, 42, 46


  J

  Jacobins, The, 401

  Jena, 415

  Jerome of Westphalia, 435

  John the Fearless, 239

  Joseph, King of Naples, 421, 426

  Josephine, 422

  Jourdon, 427


  K

  Kutusoff, 431


  L

  Lafayette, opposes “arbitrary government,” 403

  Lala Schahin, 232

  Lannes, 417, 425

  Las Casas, 299, 303-304, 306-308, 310, 349

  Legion of Honor, Napoleon’s, 404

  Leipzig, 437

  Letitia, Maria, 371, 414

  Louis XIV, 434

  Louis XVIII, proclaimed King of France, 439;
    plans for the dethronement of, 442


  M

  Macedon, Kingdom of, 3, 7

  Macedonia, 10

  Macedonians, 10

  Manuel II, 236, 237, 239, 243, 244, 245, 247

  Marbot, on the Prussian campaign, 416;
    on Napoleon’s marshals, 434

  Marcellus, wants Cæsar declared enemy of the people, 106

  Marseilles, 375

  Masséna, 425, 426-427

  Memnon, 21-22

  Memoirs, Napoleon’s, 448-449

  Metternich, 433, 435, 436

  Mexico, its great antiquity, 311;
    its early history, 311-322;
    taken by Cortez, 341-348;
    plans for the reconstruction of, 348

  Mohammed II, his ambitions, 253;
    prepares to besiege Constantinople, 254-255;
    his strategy, 256-257;
    sacks Constantinople, 258;
    inaugurates Mohammedan rule, 259;
    attacks Belgrade, 260-261;
    conquers Servia and Bosnia, 262;
    takes Athens, 263;
    ravages Morea, 263;
    humiliates Venice, 264;
    enters Italy, 265;
    defeated at Croia, 266;
    his aggressive policy, 266;
    his fleet in the Greek islands, 267;
    abandons aggression on Wallachia, 269;
    defeated by Stephen of Moldavia, 270-271;
    end of his reign, 271;
    extent of his conquests, 271-272

  “Moniteur,” The, 408

  Montezuma II, 316, 324, 325, 326, 331, 332, 333, 336, 337, 338

  Morea, ravaged by Turks, 263

  Moreau, 405, 436

  Moscow, Napoleon’s retreat from, 431-432

  Murad I, his personal qualities, 220;
    his measures and conquests, 220-234;
    his assassination, 234

  Murad II, succeeds Mohammed, 246;
    besieges Constantinople, 246;
    invades Morea, 247;
    leads army in person, 248;
    defeats Hunyadi, 250;
    attempts to repress Albanian rebellion, 252;
    his success in the Morea, 252;
    his death, 252

  Murat, 417, 423, 432, 433, 435, 442


  N

  Napoleon, his birth and ancestry, 371;
    his childhood and education, 372-373;
    his early revolutionary sympathies, 373-374;
    arrives in France, 374;
    shows Jacobin leanings, 374;
    made brigadier-general, 375;
    attracted by Robespierres’s régime, 375;
    commended by Committee of Public Safety, 376;
    involved in ruin of Robespierre’s party, 376;
    stricken from list of French generals, 377;
    appointed second commander of Convention, 377;
    made commander-in-chief of the army, 378;
    prepares to attack Austrian provinces, 379;
    his plan of operations, 380;
    defeats Austrians and their allies, 380-381;
    asserts French sovereignty over Naples and Tuscany, 382;
    accounts for Austrians’ defeat, 382;
    eulogized by Talleyrand, 383;
    calls Directory a makeshift, 384;
    his Egyptian Campaign, 384-389;
    his share in Siéyès’ scheme, 390;
    receives command of Paris troops, 391;
    ejected from Hall of Five Hundred, 391;
    appointed Consul, 392;
    seeks rôle of a Washington, 394;
    would be master of France, 394;
    projects sham constitution, 394-396;
    his administrative activities, 396-397;
    wars on coalition, 397-400;
    hastens to resume reins of government, 400;
    escapes a plot, 401;
    erects revolutionary tribunal, 401;
    re-elected First Consul, 402;
    reconstructs the provisional government, 402-404;
    departs from Republicanism, 404;
    seeks revenge, 405-407;
    inaugurates the Empire, 407;
    becomes Emperor of France, 407;
    plans to extend his dominions, 408-409;
    renews hostilities with England, 410;
    forces Austrians to capitulate, 411;
    defeats allies at Austerlitz, 412;
    forms Confederation of the Rhine, 413;
    his birthday made a national holiday, 414;
    prepares for new campaign, 415;
    enters Berlin, 415-416;
    defeats Prussians, 416;
    held in check at Eylau, 417;
    breaks up Fourth Coalition, 417;
    forms alliance with Alexander of Russia, 417;
    plans invasion of British Asia, 419-420;
    annexes Spain, 420;
    embarks on Asiatic campaign, 420;
    gets abdication from Ferdinand and Charles IV, 420;
    makes his brother king of Spain, 421;
    modifies plan of aggressive campaign, 422;
    confers with Alexander at Erfurt, 422;
    hastens back to Spain to restore Joseph to the throne, 423;
    urges Alexander to help against Fifth Coalition, 424;
    enters on new Austrian campaign, 424;
    wins dubious victory at Wagram, 425;
    threatens to annex Iberian kingdom, 426;
    provoked by bad turn of affairs, 427;
    intrigues with the Czar of Russia, 428-429;
    invades Russia, 429-430;
    fights inconclusive battles at Smolensk and Borodino, 430;
    enters Moscow, 431;
    retreats westward, 431-432;
    tries to rehabilitate his broken army, 433;
    grows sick and suspicious, 432-434;
    beaten at Leipzig, 437;
    forced to abdicate, 439;
    tries to commit suicide, 440;
    takes farewell of his troops, 441;
    exiled at Elba, 442;
    plans to regain control, 442;
    returns to Paris, 443;
    appeals to his veteran troops, 443;
    makes liberal professions, 444;
    prepares for new war with allies, 444;
    attacks Blücher, 445;
    defeated at Waterloo, 445;
    again forced to abdicate, 445;
    confined at St. Helena, 446;
    dies of cancer, 448;
    his “Memoirs,” 448-449;
    his ambitions and genius, 449-453;
    his military blunders, 440-441;
    his economic, financial, and religious policies, 454-460;
    as a lawgiver, 461;
    as a general, 463;
    his moral standards, 463

  Napoleonic Régime, The, 448-463

  Narvaez, 334, 335

  Ney, 417


  O

  Osman, begins rule as independent prince, 214;
    converted to Islamism, 215;
    reason for his leadership, 217;
    his plan of conquest, 217;
    his death, 218

  Ottomans, The, their chief characteristics, 280;
    their changed traditions, 280-281;
    their religious absolutism, 281-282;
    position of their women, 282;
    their army, 283;
    their rule over subject peoples, 283-287;
    economic effects of their rule, 284-285;
    beginnings of their conquests, 285-287;
    their rule over African provinces, 287;
    their Algerian corsairs, 288;
    eclipse of their power, 288-289;
    their conflict with the Christian Armada, 289-291;
    decline of their empire, 292

  Ourach, 222

  Ourkhan, 218-219


  P

  Pachacutic, 352

  Paoli, Pasquale, 371, 373, 374

  Parmenio, executed by Alexander, 35

  Persians, The, awakened to danger of Greek invasion, 12;
    their incompetence in aggressive warfare, 18-19

  Persian invasion, influence of, on Greek people, 3-4

  Peter of Cyprus, 229, 230

  Peru, the Incas of, 350-370

  Philip of Macedon, beginning of his historic career, 4;
    his lawless and amorous nature, 5;
    performs duty toward Alexander, 5;
    understanding entered into with Alexander, 5;
    death of, as master of Greece, 4;
    his assassination, 6;
    as destroyer of Greek liberties, 7

  Philotas, executed by Alexander, 35

  Pippin the Hunchback, 167

  Pippin, his characteristics, 135;
    his policy, 136;
    end of his reign, 137;
    his march on the Saxons, 145;
    his diplomacy, 138, 161

  Pitt, William, 400

  Pizarro, his birth, education, and characteristics, 357-358;
    plans to acquire Bisu, 357-359;
    starts for Caxamalca, 359;
    sets trap for Atahuallpa, 360-361;
    massacres Peruvians and captures their chief, 362;
    reduces captives to slavery, 363;
    receives enormous ransom from Peruvians, 363;
    executes Atahuallpa, 364;
    his pact with Alvarado, 365;
    plans new Peruvian capital, 365;
    takes Cuzco, 366;
    his administration, 368;
    his assassination, 368

  Pompeius the Great, Cæsar anxious to measure strength with, 69-70;
    returns from Eastern campaign, 75;
    forms triumvirate with Cæsar and Crassus, 78;
    marries Cæsar’s daughter, 80;
    breaks with Cæsar, 102;
    is outgeneraled by Cæsar in Spain, 107-110;
    his final defeat and assassination, 115

  Pompeius, Cnæus, seeks to avenge father’s murder, 122;
    his defeat, capture, and execution, 123

  Pope Hadrian, 160

  Pope Leo III, 160

  Pope Stephen, 136, 140, 159

  Pope Sylvester, 137

  Porus, King, defeated and taken by Alexander, 46

  Pressburg, 412-413, 414


  R

  Republic of Plato, The, 227

  Reign of Terror, The, 374

  Rhine, Confederation of the, 413

  Robespierre, Napoleon on good terms with, 374;
    commends Napoleon, 375

  Russia invaded by Napoleon, 429-432


  S

  Scanderbeg, 251, 252, 260, 261, 266, 267

  Scipio, Cæsar would force to give battle, 119;
    defeated by Cæsar, 119;
    perishes at sea, 119

  Scythians, routed by Alexander, 37

  Selim, opposes his father’s authority, 273;
    forces father to abdicate, 273;
    murders claimants of throne, 273;
    organizes massacre of Schismatics, 274;
    subjugates Egypt, 275;
    his death, 275

  Siéyès, Director, 390, 392, 394

  Sigismund of Hungary, 236-240, 241-248

  Slave Trade, American, started by Columbus, 298-299

  Smolensk, 430

  Sogdinians, massacred by Alexander, 38-39

  Souliman, succeeds his father, 275;
    his aggressions, 276-278;
    end of his reign, 279-280

  “Souper de Beaucaire,” Napoleon’s, 374

  Spain, its phenomenal rise, 293-295;
    its motive in encouraging Columbus, 295;
    recalls Cortez, 349;
    advantages of its colonial policy, 369-370;
    mistreated by Napoleon, 419;
    annexed by the French, 420;
    revolutionary movement in, 420;
    revolts against French domination, 421

  Stephen of Moldavia, defeats Mohammed II, 269-271

  Sulla, 72

  Syria, invaded by Alexander, 28

  St. Helena, Napoleon at, 446-448


  T

  Talleyrand, eulogizes Napoleon, 383;
    at Erfurt, 422;
    his alleged plot, 423;
    helps to make Napoleon abdicate, 439;
    suggests Napoleon’s imprisonment at Elba, 441

  Terrorists, The, 374

  Thebes, aided by Demosthenes, 13;
    taken by Macedonians, 14;
    razed by Alexander, 15;
    its association with Greek heroic age, 15;
    the consternation caused by its fate, 15-16

  Theodoric, the Ostrogoth, 134, 159

  Tilsit, 417, 418-419

  Timur, 244

  Toltecs, The, 312-314

  Toulon, 375, 377

  Trafalgar, 411

  Treaty of, Amiens, 409;
    Lunéville, 399;
    Pressburg, 412-414;
    Tilsit, 417

  Tribunate, The, 396, 400, 401, 402, 403, 404, 405, 407, 444

  Tupac, 352

  Turanians, in the New World, 290;
    their civilization, 296

  Tyre, siege of, 27


  V

  Vaca de Castro, 368

  Velasquez, 327, 328, 334

  Venice, defeated by Mohammed II, 264;
    chief rival of Ottoman empire, 289-290

  Vera Cruz, founded by Cortez, 325, 338, 339

  Vercingetorix, executed by Cæsar, 120

  Viazma, 431

  Vienna, Congress of, 444, 449

  Vlad, 267-268, 269-271


  W

  Wagram, 425

  Washington, George, Napoleon in the rôle of a, 394;
    mourned in Paris, 397

  Wallachia, 269

  Waterloo, 445

  Wellington, at Torres Vedras, 426;
    invades Spain, 427;
    heads Dutch and English armies, 445;
    defeats the French at Waterloo, 445

  West Indian Islands, The, their inhabitants, 299-300

  Witikind, organizes revolt against Charles the Great, 148;
    accepts Christianity, 149

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=The History of England= By A. F. POLLARD.

=The Opening Up of Africa= By H. H. JOHNSTON.

=The Civilization of China= By H. A. GILES.

=History of Our Time (1885-1911)= By G. P. GOOCH.

=The Colonial Period= By CHAS. M. ANDREWS.

=Reconstruction & Union (1865-1912)= By L. P. HAWORTH.

=The Civil War= By F. L. PAXSON.

=The Dawn of History= By J. L. MYRES.

=Peoples and Problems of India= By T. W. HOLDERNESS.

=Canada= By A. G. BRADLEY.

=The French Revolution= By HILAIRE BELLOC.

=A Short History of War & Peace= By G. H. PERRIS.

=The Irish Nationality= By ALICE S. GREEN.

=The Papacy & Modern Times= By W. BARRY.

=Medieval Europe= By H. W. C. DAVIS.

=Warfare in Britain= By HILAIRE BELLOC.

=Modern Geography= By MARIAN I. NEWBIGIN.

=Polar Exploration= By W. S. BRUCE.

=Master Mariners= By JOHN R. SPEARS.

  HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY
  34 WEST 33RD ST. NEW YORK

       *       *       *       *       *

THE HOME BOOK OF VERSE

_American and English_ (1580-1912)

  Compiled by BURTON E. STEVENSON. Collects the best short poetry of
  the English language--not only the poetry everybody says is good, but
  also the verses that everybody reads. (3742 pages; India paper, 1
  vol., 8vo, complete author, title and first line indices, $7.50 net;
  carriage 40 cents extra.)

The most comprehensive and representative collection of American and
English poetry ever published, including 3,120 unabridged poems from
some 1,100 authors.

It brings together in one volume the best short poetry of the English
language from the time of Spencer, with especial attention to American
verse.

The copyright deadline has been passed, and some three hundred recent
authors are included, very few of whom appear in any other general
anthology, such as Lionel Johnson, Noyes, Housman, Mrs. Meynell, Yeats,
Dobson, Lang, Watson, Wilde, Francis Thompson, Gilder, Le Gallienne,
Van Dyke, Woodberry, Riley, etc., etc.

The poems as arranged by subject, and the classification is unusually
close and searching. Some of the most comprehensive sections are:
Children’s rhymes (300 pages); love poems (800 pages); nature poetry
(400 pages); humorous verse (500 pages); patriotic and historical poems
(600 pages); reflective and descriptive poetry (400 pages). No other
collection contains so many popular favorites and fugitive verses.

DELIGHTFUL POCKET ANTHOLOGIES

The following books are uniform, with full gilt flexible covers and
pictured cover linings. 16mo. Each, cloth, $1.50; leather, $2.50.

THE GARLAND OF CHILDHOOD

A little book for all lovers of children. Compiled by Percy Withers.

THE VISTA OF ENGLISH VERSE

Compiled by Henry S. Pancoast. From Spencer to Kipling.

LETTERS THAT LIVE

Compiled by Laura E. Lockwood and Amy R. Kelly. Some 150 letters.

POEMS FOR TRAVELLERS

(About “The Continent.”)

Compiled by Miss Mary R. J. DuBois.

THE OPEN ROAD

A little book for wayfarers. Compiled by E. V. Lucas.

THE FRIENDLY TOWN

A little book for the urbane, compiled by E. V. Lucas.

THE POETIC OLD-WORLD

Compiled by Miss L. H. Humphrey. Covers Europe, including Spain,
Belgium and the British Isles.

THE POETIC NEW-WORLD

Compiled by Miss Humphrey.

  HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY
  34 WEST 33RD STREET NEW YORK

       *       *       *       *       *

American Public Problems Series

Edited by RALPH CURTIS RINGWALT

Chinese Immigration

By MARY ROBERTS COOLIDGE, Formerly Associate Professor of Sociology in
Stanford University. 531 pp. $1.75 net; by mail, $1.90. (_Just issued._)

Presents the most comprehensive record of the Chinaman in the United
States that has yet been attempted.

  “Scholarly. Covers every important phase, economic, social, and
  political, of the Chinese question in America down to the San
  Francisco fire in 1906.”--_New York Sun._

  “Statesmanlike. Of intense interest.”--_Hartford Courant._

  “A remarkably thorough historical study. Timely and useful. Enhanced
  by the abundant array of documentary facts and evidence.”--_Chicago
  Record-Herald._

Immigration: And Its Effects Upon the United States

By PRESCOTT F. HALL, A.B., LL.B., Secretary of the Immigration
Restriction League. 393 pp. $1.50 net; by mail, $1.65.

  “Should prove interesting to everyone. Very readable, forceful and
  convincing. Mr. Hall considers every possible phase of this great
  question and does it in a masterly way that shows not only that he
  thoroughly understands it, but that he is deeply interested in it and
  has studied everything bearing upon it.”--_Boston Transcript._

  “A readable work containing a vast amount of valuable information.
  Especially to be commended is the discussion of the racial effects.
  As a trustworthy general guide it should prove a god-send.”--_New
  York Evening Post._

The Election of Senators

By Professor GEORGE H. HAYNES, Author of “Representation in State
Legislatures.” 300 pp. $1.50 net; by mail, $1.65.

Shows the historical reasons for the present method, and its effect
on the Senate and Senators, and on state and local government, with a
detailed review of the arguments for and against direct election.

  “A timely book.... Prof. Haynes is qualified for a historical and
  analytical treatise on the subject of the Senate.”--_New York Evening
  Sun._

  HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY
  34 WEST 33D STREET NEW YORK

       *       *       *       *       *

BERGSON’S CREATIVE EVOLUTION

_Translated from the French by Dr. Arthur Mitchell_

8th printing, $2.50 net, by mail $2.67.

“Bergson’s resources in the way of erudition are remarkable, and in
the way of expression they are simply phenomenal.... If anything can
make hard things easy to follow it is a style like Bergson’s. It
is a miracle and he a real magician. Open Bergson and new horizons
open on every page you read. It tells of reality itself instead of
reiterating what dusty-minded professors have written about what other
previous professors have thought. Nothing in Bergson is shopworn or at
second-hand.”--_William James._

“A distinctive and trenchant piece of dialectic.... Than its entrance
upon the field as a well-armed and militant philosophy there have been
not many more memorable occurences in the history of ideas.”--_Nation._

“To bring out in an adequate manner the effect which Bergson’s
philosophy has on those who are attracted by it let us try to imagine
what it would have been like to have lived when Kant produced his
‘Critique of Pure Reason.’”--_Hibbert Journal._

“_Creative Evolution_ is destined, I believe, to mark an epoch in the
history of modern thought. The work has its root in modern physical
science, but it blooms and bears fruit in the spirit to a degree
quite unprecedented.... Bergson is a new star in the intellectual
firmament of our day. He is a philosopher upon whom the spirits of both
literature and science have descended. In his great work he touches the
materialism of science to finer issues. Probably no other writer of our
time has possessed in the same measure the three gifts, the literary,
the scientific, and the philosophical. Bergson is a kind of chastened
and spiritualized Herbert Spencer.”--_John Burroughs in the Atlantic
Monthly._

  HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY
  PUBLISHERS NEW YORK

       *       *       *       *       *

NEW BOOKS PRIMARILY FOR WOMEN

A MONTESSORI MOTHER. _By Dorothy Canfield Fisher_

A thoroughly competent author who has been most closely associated with
Dr. Montessori tells just what American mothers want to know about this
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plain description of the apparatus, definite directions for its use,
suggestive hints as to American substitutes and additions, etc., etc.
(_Helpfully illustrated._ $1.25 _net_, _by mail_ $1.35.)

MAKING A BUSINESS WOMAN. _By Anne Shannon Monroe_

A young woman whose business assets are good sense, good health, and
the ability to use a typewriter goes to Chicago to earn her living.
This story depicts her experiences vividly and truthfully, tho the
characters are fictitious. ($1.30 _net_, _by mail_ $1.40.)

WHY WOMEN ARE SO. _By Mary R. Coolidge_

Explains and traces the development of the woman of 1800 into the woman
of to-day. ($1.50 _net_, _by mail_ $1.62.)

THE SQUIRREL-CAGE. _By Dorothy Canfield_

A novel recounting the struggle of an American wife and mother to call
her soul her own.

  “One has no hesitation in classing ‘The Squirrel-Cage’ with the best
  American fiction of this or any other season.”--CHICAGO RECORD-HERALD.

(_3rd printing._ $1.35 _net_, _by mail_ $1.45.)

HEREDITY IN RELATION TO EUGENICS. _By C. B. Davenport_

  “One of the foremost authorities ... tells just what scientific
  investigation has established and how far it is possible to control
  what the ancients accepted as inevitable.”--N. Y. TIMES REVIEW.

(_With diagrams. 3rd printing._ $2.00 _net_, _by mail_ $2.16.)

THE GLEAM. _By Helen R. Albee_

A frank spiritual autobiography. ($1.35 _net_, _by mail_ $1.45.)

  HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY
  34 WEST 33D STREET NEW YORK

       *       *       *       *       *

Transcriber’s Notes:

Illustrations have been moved to paragraph breaks near where they are
mentioned, except for the frontispiece.

Punctuation has been made consistent.

Variations in spelling and hyphenation were retained as they appear in
the original publication, except that obvious typographical errors have
been corrected.



*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 74652 ***