The Historians' History of the World 05 [The Roman Republic]

Thus runs the legend of the first great event in Roman history—an event so important that the echo reached even to Greece. “The capture of Rome by the Gauls,” says George Cornewall Lewis,f “is the first event in Roman history which, so far as we know, attracted the notice of the contemporary Greeks. Plutarch says that Heraclides of Pontus spoke of a report from the far West, which described an Hellenic city called Rome, situated somewhere near the great sea, as having been taken by an army from the distant land of the Hyperboræans.”

Ihneg is very incredulous of most of the legends, even suggesting that the legend of the geese had an ætiological origin and was merely invented to explain a religious ceremony in which a dog was impaled and a goose decorated with gold, instead of being actually the origin of that annual ceremony. Lewis, however, finds the older story amply substantiated.[34] Among the chief sceptics are Mommsen,h Schwegler,i and Paisj the most radical of all. Niebuhr’se story of the whole event is worth quoting, beginning with his comments on the story that Aruns of Clusium brought in the Gauls.a

NIEBUHR ON THE CONDUCT OF THE ROMANS

Though history rejects the incident as demonstrably false, it is well suited to the legend; and every legend which was current among the people long before the rise of literature among them, is itself a living memorial of ancient times,—even though its contents may not be so,—and deserves a place in a history of Rome written with a due love for the subject.

The determination to sacrifice the old men certainly cannot be called inconceivable in a people of antiquity. This however is inconceivable, that they should have been so far influenced by the example of the patricians, as to await their doom like devoted victims. Could they be sure that a wished-for death would speedily release them? that wanton cruelty would not protract it by torture? that they should not be driven along as slaves, without regard to their strength, at the mere caprice of the barbarians? They might have defended the walls and the gates, might have maintained a resistance with all sorts of missiles in the interior of the city, might have made many of their enemies share their fate; had the quarters that held out been set fire to, the victor would have been deprived of his spoil. But in fact Livy is the only writer who speaks of this torpid resignation. Others related that, while all the rest of the people quitted their homes, eighty priests and aged patricians of the highest rank sat down in the Forum on their curule thrones in festal robes awaiting death. That such a resolution should have been freely taken by men of the same class, who deemed it intolerable to outlive the republic and the worship of the gods, is by no means improbable; least of all if, after resolving to face death, they solemnly devoted themselves by the hands of the chief pontiff for the republic and for the destruction of her foes. On the other hand it is utterly inconceivable that the chief part of the women and children should not have retired from the city, where every kind of insult and outrage inevitably awaited them, when it was yet possible for them to be saved by flight. It is said that a great number pressed forward at the last moment and gained admittance into the Capitol and the citadel; as if, had this been feasible, they would not all have forced their way in; as if that small place could have held more than the men requisite to defend it, with provisions for them. Finally, the story that the Romans in their despair did not close the gates of the city, and that nothing but the fear of some stratagem withheld the conquerors from marching in, sounds very incredible. On this point, however, we do not want any internal reasons; since the authentic account in Diodorus states that the Gauls, on finding the walls entirely deserted, burst open the gates.

It would be extremely unjust to impute what has here been said about Livy’s narrative to a design of detracting from his merits. Such criticisms cannot impair his imperishable fame. As soon as we cease to call for what it was Livy’s least care to supply, nothing remains to disturb the pleasure which his description must yield to every unprejudiced mind. If there be one so distempered as to forego that pleasure, because his account has been proved to be historically untenable, we may pity, but we must not indulge its perverseness.

A writer who adopts a dry and neglected report in preference to a well-known and masterly narrative, must justify himself, and show that it is not from the love of paradox, that he has discarded the more beautiful story. [Niebuhr reminds his readers of his previously expressed admiration for Livy with renewed assurances of his entire sincerity. He then concludes thus eloquently]: And in his own peculiar excellencies, in that richness and that warmth of colouring which many centuries after were the characteristics of the Venetian painters born under the same sky, Livy never shone more brilliantly than in this very description; a more vivid one is not to be found in any Latin or Greek historian.e