Chapter II: Section I: Taking of the City

The city of Rome had sustained little diminution in her architectural splendour, when the setting sun shed his parting beams, as if with prophetic significance, upon the gilded roof of the venerable capitol, on the evening of the 24th of August, A.D. 410. The temple of Jupiter, though shorn of some of the dazzling ornaments with which the emperor Domitian had adorned its portals and pediments, still remained an imposing monument of the ancient paganism of the Imperial City. Other costly temples and public buildings, clustered around that seat of Roman pride and greatness, and met and charmed the eye of the citizen, as he ascended the slope of the Capitoline Hill. With a lordly air, these noble structures threw their long shadows over the spacious forum, where, of old, the sons of the republic had been accustomed to gather in crowds around the rostrum, to listen to the speeches of their orators; and where still the degenerate Roman was reminded of the deeds of his fathers, by the monuments of patriotism and victory which were strewn around him. On that evening, might be seen many a citizen and foreigner passing to and fro, along its stately colonnades, or reclining at his ease upon the marble seats; and in whatever direction he went, on leaving that far-famed spot, he passed through squares and streets which were adorned with temples, palaces, and baths, such as could have been erected in no city but one that had enriched itself with the spoils of the whole world. In short, Rome had undergone but little alteration since the eastern emperor Constantius, fifty years before, on visiting the city of his fathers, had been overwhelmed with astonishment at its surpassing magnificence. An historian of that period,[1] describing the visit in that inflated style which is so characteristic of the age, observes; "As Constantius viewed the seven-hilled city, with its valleys and suburban districts, every object around him seemed to shine with transcendent splendour:--the temple of Tarpeian Jove exceeding everything he had beheld, as much as a Divine production could exceed the works of man; the spacious baths spreading around like provinces; the Amphitheatre with its solid walls of Tiburtine marble, and so lofty, that the eye is fatigued in looking upward to its summit; the Pantheon with its vast circular space, arched over by a magnificent dome; and its lofty pediments rising one above another, and crowned with statues of Roman heroes; the Forum and Temple of Peace; the Theatre of Pompey; the Musical Hall; the Stadia, and other imposing objects in the Eternal City. But when he came to the Forum of Trajan--the most astonishing structure under the face of heaven, and, as I conceive, wonderful in the estimation of the deities themselves--he was struck with astonishment, while considering its gigantic buildings, which are not to be described in language, or again to be equalled by mortal skill. Discarding the idea of erecting another forum like that, he thought that he might rear an equestrian statue, which should resemble the colossal horse of Trajan; but this design he also abandoned, upon hearing it remarked by the prince, Hormisdas, 'If you would succeed in having a similar horse, you must first provide a similar stable,'" Such was the grandeur of ancient Rome; and it was probably with feelings of admiration like those of the emperor and his historian, that many a citizen returned from the baths and the forums to his own dwelling on the eventful evening in question. Gradually the sounds of business, and the murmur of voices in the streets died away: and as the stars shone forth in the face of heaven, the mighty city slept in silence. But it was a silence soon to be disturbed.

At the midnight hour, a blast of trumpets like the roar of thunder reverberated from hill to hill, and woke up myriads of the inhabitants from their deep slumbers--it was the signal that Alaric the Goth, with his mighty army, had entered Rome.

Two years before the barbarian general had besieged the city. Swayed by what he conceived a supernatural impulse, he led his victorious troops down the passes of the Apennines, upon the rich plains of Italy. A pious monk, it is said, met the warrior on his way, and exhorted him to refrain from his expedition; but he replied, "I am urged on in spite of myself, by an irresistible impulse which is continually saving to me, 'March to Rome, and desolate the city.'"[2] Thus, prompted by his ambition, he fulfilled his destiny, and wreaked a fearful amount of vengeance on the heads of the Romans, for the wrongs which they had inflicted upon others. Twice did he blockade the gates of Rome, and subdue the proud masters of the world. During the first siege, the terrors of famine and pestilence reduced the senate to submission, and the conqueror agreed to raise the siege, only upon the condition of his being paid a very large ransom. Negotiations for peace with the emperor Honorius, who was then at Ravenna, having failed, Alaric returned to Rome, and again pitched his camp before the walls. The remembrance of their calamities, during the former siege, constrained the people once more to yield; when the Gothic warrior insisted upon their renouncing allegiance to Honorius, and imposed upon them a new emperor in the person of Attalus, the prefect of the city. But it was not long before the latter forfeited the confidence of his master, and Alaric immediately proceeded publicly to strip him of the imperial purple. The Goth, after this circumstance, renewed his negotiations with the court of Ravenna; but being insulted by the heralds, and attacked by the troops of Honorius, he turned his army a third time towards the gates of Rome.[3]

Historians inform us, that it was by an act of treachery, that Alaric was now admitted into the city; but no satisfactory information can be obtained respecting the particulars of the important transaction. The Gothic trumpet, however, at the Salarian gate, the march of the enemy along the great highway, and the flames issuing from the palace of Sallust--which was fired by the troops, as soon as they entered within the walls--proclaimed that Rome, the Queen of Cities, after the lapse of nearly eight hundred years from her invasion by the Gauls, was once more in the hands of a barbarian foe. Although the Romans had been aware of the vicinity of Alaric, yet, lulled into a state of false security, they did not anticipate any assault, and the senators were quietly slumbering in their beds when the enemy entered the city. Fearful were the scenes enacted; and well might Jerome apply to it the lines of Virgil, in reference to the sack of Troy:

"What tongue can tell the slaughter of that night?
What eyes can weep the sorrow and affright?
An ancient and imperial city falls--
The streets are fill'd with frequent funerals;
Houses and holy temples float in blood,
And hostile nations made a common flood;
All parts resound with tumults, plaints, and fears,
Ana grisly death in sundry shapes appears."

The cruel and licentious soldiery made a dreadful slaughter of the Roman people, and violated many a matron and virgin. The horrors of the invasion were further heightened by the excesses which were practised by forty thousand slaves, who now broke loose from the authority of their masters, and retaliated, on them and their families, the wrongs which themselves and their predecessors had endured through ages of oppression. But it is acknowledged by all writers, that Alaric--who was himself an Arian--showed some considerable regard for the Christians of the city, and spared the churches where they met for worship. Indeed he appointed the edifices, which had been dedicated to the apostles Peter and Paul, as places of refuge for the terrified Christian inhabitants, and gave strict orders that those who fled there for sanctuary, should be protected from injury. Instances illustrative of the forbearance of the soldiers, and of their respect not only for the persons of the Christians but for the consecrated vessels which they employed in their worship, are afforded us by the historians of those times. Orosius gives us a graphic description of a long train of Christians, carrying on their heads the communion-plate of gold and silver, and singing their sacred hymns, who were escorted in safety, by the Gothic soldiers, through the streets of the ravaged city, to the church of St. Peter. He speaks also of many of the barbarians, and the pagan Romans, uniting in these songs, and joining in the solemn procession; and represents the latter as saving themselves from vengeance, by taking shelter beneath the wing of the Christian faith.

But, notwithstanding this abatement of the horrors connected with the taking of Rome, enough is recorded on the page of authentic history to convey a fearful idea of that memorable event. Numbers were slain, the houses of the wealthy were pillaged, their most costly treasures were unsparingly seized, many of the most beautiful works of art were destroyed; and if only a few of the buildings of Rome were reduced to ashes, they were all, no doubt, stripped of whatever was valuable, and capable of being removed in the heavy wagons which followed in the rear of the Gothic army. Multitudes of the people of rank were sold for slaves, or driven into exile. "Who would believe," exclaims Jerome, "that Rome, built up with the spoils of the whole world, and the very cradle of nations, should be turned into a sepulchre; that the shores of Egypt, Africa, and the east, should be crowded with the handmaids of the imperial city; that every day nobles of both sexes, who had lived in affluence, should come as beggars to the sanctuaries of Bethlehem."[4]

But it is not the intention of the author to write a history of the invasion of Rome by Alaric: he has selected that event, simply as a starting-point in his introduction to a review of the state of society in the middle ages. That invasion forms the first grand epoch in the fall of Rome, which thenceforth became the prey of barbarian violence, till, at length, no traces of its greatness remained, and the eternal city itself became a field of ruins. And as it was the fall of Rome which prepared the way for the social phenomena of the mediæval period, it was natural, before entering upon an enumeration of those times, to glance at the event which appears so conspicuously among the causes which effected them.

It will be proper, before we proceed further, briefly to notice the previous state of Roman civilisation, as this will in some measure explain the remarkable fact of so great an empire having been overrun by barbarians, and will also illustrate the character of that form of society which was succeeded by the social changes of the middle ages.

[1] Ammianus Marcellinus, lib. xvi. c. 10.

[2] Socrates, Hist., lib. vii. c. 10.

[3] Gibbon's Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, chap. xxxi.

[4] Hieron., Pref. in Ezekiel.