their forces into the internal parts of the kingdom; others submitted to Cæsar: till at length Cassibelaunus himself, weakened by so many desertions, resolved upon making what terms he was able, while he yet had power to keep the field. The conditions offered by Cæsar, and accepted by him, were, that he should send to the continent double the number of hostages at first demanded, and that he should acknowledge subjection to the Romans.

The Romans were pleased with the name of this new and remote conquest, and the senate decreed a supplication of twenty days, in consequence of their general's success. Having, therefore, in this manner rather discovered than subdued the southern parts of the island, Cæsar returned into Gaul with his forces, and left the Britons to enjoy their customs, religion, and laws. But the inhabitants, thus relieved from the terror of his arms, neglected the performance of their stipulations; and only two of their states sent over hostages according to the treaty. Cæsar, it is likely, was not much displeased at the omission, as it furnished him with a pretext of visiting the island once more, and completing a conquest which he had only begun.

Accordingly, the ensuing spring he set sail for Britain with eight hundred ships; and, arriving at the place of his former descent, he landed without opposition. The islanders, being apprised of his invasion, had assembled an army, and marched down to the sea-side to oppose him; but, seeing the number of his forces, and the whole sea, as it were, covered with his shipping, they were struck with consternation, and retired to their places of security. The Romans, however, pursued them to their retreats, until at last common danger induced these poor barbarians to forget their former dissensions, and to unite their whole strength for the mutual defence of their liberty and possessions. Cassibelaunus was chosen to conduct the common cause; and for some time he harassed the Romans in their march, and revived the desponding hopes of his countrymen. But no opposition that undisciplined strength could make was able to repress the vigour and intrepidity of Cæsar. He discomfited the Britons in every action; he advanced into the country, passed the Thames in the face of the enemy, took and burned the capital city of Cassibelaunus, established his ally Mandubratius as sovereign of the Trinobantes; and, having obliged the inhabitants to make new submissions, he again returned with his army into Gaul, having made himself rather the nominal than the real possessor of the island.

Whatever the stipulated tribute might have been, it is more than probable, as there was no authority left to exact it, that it was but indifferently paid. Upon the accession of Augustus, that emperor had formed a design of visiting Britain, but was diverted from it by an unexpected revolt of the Pannonians. Some years after, he resumed his design; but, being met in his way by the British ambassadors, who promised the accustomed tribute, and made the usual submissions, he desisted from his intention. The year following, finding them remiss in their supplies, and untrue to their former professions, he once more prepared for the invasion of the country; but a well-timed embassy again averted his indignation, and the submissions he received seemed to satisfy his resentment: upon his death-bed he appeared sensible of the overgrown extent of the Roman empire, and recommended it to his successors never to enlarge their territories.

Tiberius followed the maxims of Augustus, and, wisely judging the empire already too extensive, made no attempt upon Britain. Some Roman soldiers having been wrecked on the British coast, the inhabitants not only assisted them with the greatest humanity, but sent them in safety back to their general. In consequence of these friendly dispositions, a constant intercourse of good offices subsisted between the two nations; the principal British nobility resorted to Rome, and many received their education there.

From that time the Britons began to improve in all the arts which contribute to the advancement of human nature. The first art which a savage people is generally taught by politer neighbours, is that of war. The Britons thenceforward, though not wholly addicted to the Roman method of fighting, nevertheless adopted several of their improvements, as well in their arms as in their arrangement in the field. Their ferocity to strangers, for which they had been always remarkable, was mitigated; and they began to permit an

intercourse of commerce, even in the internal parts of the country. They still, however, continued to live as herdsmen and hunters; a manifest proof that the country was yet but thinly inhabited. A nation of hunters can never be populous, as their subsistence is necessarily diffused over a large tract of country, while the husbandman converts every part of nature to human use, and flourishes most by the vicinity of those whom he is to support.

The wild extravagances of Caligula, by which he threatened Britain with an invasion, served rather to expose him to ridicule, than the island to danger. The Britons, therefore, for almost a century, enjoyed their liberty unmolested, till at length the Romans, in the reign of Claudius, began to think seriously of reducing them under their dominion. The expedition for this purpose was conducted in the beginning by Plautius and other commanders, with that success which usually attended the Roman arms.

Claudius himself, finding affairs sufficiently prepared for his reception, [A. D. 43.] made a journey thither, and received the submission of such states as, living by commerce, were willing to purchase tranquillity at the expense of freedom. It is true, that many of the inland provinces preferred their native simplicity to imported elegance, and, rather than bow their necks to the Roman yoke, offered their bosoms to the sword. But the southern coast, with all the adjacent inland country, was seized by the conquerors, who secured the possession by fortifying camps, building fortresses, and planting colonies. The other parts of the country either thought themselves in no danger, or continued patient spectators of the approaching devastation.

Caractacus was the first who seemed willing, by a vigorous effort, to rescue his country, and repel its insulting and rapacious conquerors. The venality and corruption of the Roman prætors and officers, who were appointed to levy the contributions in Britain, served to excite the indignation of the natives, and give spirit to his attempts. This rude soldier, though with inferior forces, continued, for about the space of nine years, to oppose and harass the Romans; so that at length Östorius Scapula was sent over to command their armies. He was more successful than his predecessors. He advanced the Roman conquest over Britain, pierced the country of the Silures, a warlike nation along the banks of the Severn, and at length came up with Caractacus, [A. D. 51.] who had taken possession of a very advantageous post upon an inaccessible mountain, washed by a deep and rapid stream. The unfortunate British general, when he saw the enemy approaching, drew up his army, composed of different tribes, and, going from rank to rank, exhorted them to strike the last blow for liberty, safety, and life. To these exhortations his soldiers replied with shouts of determined valour. But what could undisciplined bravery avail against the attack of an army skilled in all the arts of war, and inspired by a long train of conquests? The Britons were, after an obstinate resistance, totally routed; and a few days after Caractacus himself was delivered up to the conquerors by Cartismandua, queen of the Brigantes, with whom he had taken refuge. The capture of this general was received with such joy at Rome, that Claudius commanded that he should be brought from Britain, in order to be exhibited as a spectacle to the Roman people. Accordingly, on the day appointed for that purpose, the emperor, ascending his throne, ordered the captives, and Caractacus among the number, to be brought into his presence. The vassals of the British king, with the spoils taken in war, were first brought forward; these were followed by his family, who, with abject lamentations, were seen to implore for mercy. Last of all came Caractacus, with an undaunted air and a dignified aspect. He appeared no way dejected at the amazing concourse of spectators that were gathered upon this occasion, but, casting his eyes on the splendours that surrounded him, "Alas!” cried he, "how is it possible that a people possessed of such magnificence at home, could envy me an humble cottage in Britain?" When brought into the emperor's presence, he is said to have addressed him in the following manner: “Had my moderation been equal to my birth and fortune, I had arrived in this city not as a captive but as a friend. But my present misfortunes redound as much to your honour as to my disgrace; and the obstinacy of my opposition serves to increase the splendour of your victory. Had I surrendered myself in the beginning of the

contest, neither my disgrace nor your glory would have attracted the attention of the word, and my fate would have been buried in general oblivion I am now at your mercy; but, if my life he spared, I shall remain an eternal monument of your clemency and moderation." The emperor was affected with the British hero's misfortunes, and won by his address. He ordered him to be unchained upon the spot, with the rest of the captives; and the first use they made of their liberty was to go and prostrate themselves before the empress Agrippina, who, as some suppose, had been an intercessor for their freedom.

Notwithstanding these misfortunes, the Britons were not subdued, and this island was regarded by the ambitious Romans as a field in which military honour might still be acquired. The Britons made one expiring effort to recover their liberty in the time of Nero, [A.D. 60.] taking advantage of the absence of Paulinus, the Roman general, who was employed in subduing the Isle of Anglesey. That small island, separated from Britain by a narrow channel, still continued the chief seat of the Druidical superstition, and constantly afforded a retreat to their defeated forces. It was thought necessary therefore to subdue that place, in order to extirpate a religion that disdained submission to foreign laws or leaders; and Paulinus, the greatest general of his age, undertook the task. The Britons endeavoured to obstruct his landing on that last retreat of their superstitions and liberties, both by the force of their arms and the terrors of their religion. The priests and islanders were drawn up in order of battle upon the shore, to oppose his landing. The women, dressed like Furies, with dishevelled hair, and torches in their hands, poured forth the most terrible execrations. Such a sight at first confounded the Romans, and fixed them motionless on the spot; so that they received the first assault without opposition. But Paulinus, exhorting his troops to despise the menaces of an absurd superstition, impelled them to the attack, drove the Britons off the field, burned the Druids in the same fires they had prepared for their captive enemies, and destroyed all their consecrated groves and altars.

In the mean time, the Britons, taking advantage of his absence, resolved, by a general insurrection, to free themselves from that state of abject servi tude to which they were reduced by the Romans. They had many motives to aggravate their resentment: the greatness of their taxes, which were levied with unremitting severity; the cruel insolence of their conquerors, who reproached that very poverty which they had caused; but particularly the cruel treatment of Boadicea, queen of the Iceni, drove them at last into open rebellion. Prasatagus, king of the Iceni, at his death, had bequeathed onehalf of his dominions to the Romans, and the other to his daughters; thus hoping, by the sacrifice of a part, to secure the rest in his family; but it had a different effect; for the Roman procurator immediately took possession of the whole; and when Boadicea, the widow of the deceased, attempted to remonstrate, he ordered her to be scourged like a slave, and violated the chastity of her daughters. These outrages were sufficient to produce a revolt through the whole island. The Iceni being the most deeply interested in the quarrel, were the first to take arms; all the other states soon followed the example: and Boadicea, a woman of great beauty and masculine spirit, was appointed to head the common forces, which amounted to two hundred and thirty thousand fighting men. These, exasperated by their wrongs, attacked several of the Roman settlements and colonies with success. Paulinus hastened to relieve London, which was already a flourishing colony; but found on his arrival that it would be requisite, for the general safety, to abandon that place to the merciless fury of the enemy. London was therefore soon reduced to ashes; such of the inhabitants as remained in it were massacred; and the Romans, with all other strangers, to the number of seventy thousand, were cruelly put to the sword. Flushed with these successes, the Britons no longer sought to avoid the enemy, but boldly came to the place where Paulinus awaited their arrival, posted in a very advantageous manner with a body of ten thousand men. The battle was obstinate and bloody. Boadicea herself appeared in a chariot with her two daughters, and harangued her army with masculine firmness; but the irregular and undiscipfined bravery of her troops was unable to resist

the cool intrepidity of the Romans. They were routed with great slaughter; eighty thousand perished in the field, and an infinite number were made prisoners; while Boadicea herself, fearing to fall into the hands of the enraged victor, put an end to her life by poison. Nero soon after recalled Paulinus from a government, where, by suffering and inflicting so many severities, he was judged improper to compose the angry and alarmed minds of the natives. After an interval, Cerealis received the command from Vespasian, and, by his bravery, propagated the terror of the Roman arms. Julius Frontinus succeeded Cerealis, both in authority and reputation. The general who finally established the dominion of the Romans in this island, was Julius Agricola, who governed it during the reigns of Vespasian, Titus, and Domitian, and distinguished himself as well by his courage as humanity.

Agricola, who is considered as one of the greatest characters in history, formed a regular plan for subduing and civilizing the island, and thus rendering the acquisition useful to the conquerors. As the northern part of the country was least tractable, he carried his victorious arms thither, and defeated the undisciplined enemy in every encounter. He pierced into the formerly inaccessible forests and mountains of Caledonia; he drove onward all those fierce and intractable spirits who preferred famine to slavery, and who, rather than submit, chose to remain in perpetual hostility. Nor was it without opposition that he thus made his way into a country rude and impervious by nature. He was opposed by Galgacus at the head of a numerous army, whom he defeated in a decisive action, in which considerable numbers were slain. [A. D. 84.] Being thus successful, he did not think proper to pursue the enemy into their retreats; but, embarking a body of troops on board his fleet, he ordered the commander to surround the whole coast of Britain, which had not been discovered to be an island till the preceding year. This armament, pursuant to his orders, steered to the northward, and there subdued the Orkneys; then making the tour of the whole island, it arrived in the port of Sandwich, without having met with the least disaster.

During these military enterprises, Agricola was ever attentive to the arts of peace. He attempted to humanize the fierceness of those who acknowledged his power, by introducing the Roman laws, habits, manners, and learning. He taught them to desire and raise all the conveniences of life, instructed them in the arts of agriculture, and, in order to protect them in their peaceable possessions, he drew a rampart, and fixed a train of garrisons between them and their northern neighbours; thus cutting off the ruder and more barren parts of the island, and securing the Roman province from the invasion of a fierce and necessitous enemy. In this manner the Britons, being almost totally subdued, now began to throw off all hopes of recovering their former liberty; and, having often experienced the superiority of the Romans, consented to submit, and were contented with safety. From that time the Romans seemed more desirous of securing what they possessed than of making new conquests; and were employed rather in repressing than punishing their restless northern invaders.

For several years after the time of Agricola, a profound peace seems to have prevailed in Britain; and little mention is made of the affairs of the island by any historian. The only incidents which occur, are some seditions among the Roman legions quartered there, and some usurpations of the imperial dignity by the Roman governors. The natives remained totally subdued and dispirited: the arts of luxury had been introduced among them, and seemed to afford a wretched compensation for their former independence. All the men who had a passion for liberty were long since destroyed; the flower of their youth were draughted out of the island to serve in foreign wars; and those who remained, were bred up in servitude and submission. Such, therefore, were very unlikely to give any disturbance to their governors; and, in fact, instead of considering their yoke as a burden, they were taught to regard it as their ornament and protection. Indeed, nothing was likely to shake the power of Rome in the island, but the dissensions and distresses of the Romans themselves; and that dreadful period at last arrived.

Rome, that had for many ages given laws to nations, and diffused slavery and oppression over the known world, at length began to sink under her own

magnificence. Mankind, as if by a general consent, rose up to vindicate their natural freedom; almost every nation asserting that independence of which they had been long so unjustly deprived. It was in these turbulent times that the emperors found themselves obliged to recruit their legions from the troops that were placed to defend the frontier provinces. When the heart of the empire was contended for, it was not much considered in what manner the extremities were to be defended. In this manner the more distant parts of the empire were frequently left without a guard; and the weakness of the government there frequently excited fresh insurrections among the natives. These, with a thousand other calamities, daily grew greater; and, as the enemies of the Roman people increased, their own dissensions among each other seemed to increase in the same proportion.

During these struggles, the British youth were frequently drawn away into Gaul, to give ineffectual succour to the various contenders for the empire, who, failing in every attempt, only left the name of tyrants behind them. In the mean time, as the Roman forces decreased in Britain, the Picts and Scots continued still more boldly to infest the northern parts; and crossing the friths, which the Romans could not guard, in little wicker boats covered with leather, filled the country, wherever they came, with slaughter and consternation When repulsed by superior numbers, as was at first always the case, they retired with the spoil, and watched for the next opportunity of invasion, when the Romans were drawn into the remoter parts of the island.

These enterprises were often repeated, and as often repressed, but still with diminishing vigour on the side of the defendants. The southern natives being accustomed to have recourse to Rome, as well for protection as for laws, made supplications to the emperors, and had one legion sent over for their defence. This relief was, in the beginning, attended with the desired effect; the barbarous invaders were driven back to their native deserts and mountains. They returned, however, when the Roman forces were withdrawn; and although they were again repulsed by the assistance of a legion once more sent from Rome, yet they too well perceived the weakness of the enemy, and their own superior force.

At length, in the reign of Valentinian the Younger, the empire of Rome began to tremble for its capital; and its rulers, being fatigued with distant expeditions, informed the wretched Britons, whom their own arts had enfeebled, that they were now no longer to expect foreign protection. They accordingly drew away from the island all the Romans, and many of the Britons, who were fit for military services. Thus, taking their last leave of the island, they left the natives to the choice of their own government and kings. They gave them the best instructions the calamitous times would permit, for exercising their arms, and repairing their ramparts. They helped the natives to erect anew a wall of stone, built by the emperor Severus across the island, which they had not at that time artisans skilful enough among themselves to repair. Having thus prepared for their departure in a friendly manner, the Romans left the island, never more to return, after having been masters of it during the course of near four centuries.

It may be doubted whether the arts which the Romans planted among the islanders were not rather prejudicial than serviceable to them, as they only contributed to invite the invader, without furnishing the means of defence. If we consider the many public ways and villas of pleasure that were then among them, the many schools instituted for the instruction of youth, the numberless coins, statues, tessellated pavements, and other curiosities, that were common at that time, we have no doubt that the Britons made a very considerable progress in the arts of peace, although they declined in those of But, perhaps, an attempt at once to introduce these advantages will ever be ineffectual. The arts of peace and refinement must rise by slow degrees in every country; and can never be propagated with the same rapidity by which new governments may be introduced. It will take, perhaps, a course of some centuries before a barbarous people can entirely adopt the manners of their conquerors; so that all the pains bestowed by the Romans in educating the Britons, only served to render them a more desirable object of invasion, and dressed them up as victims for succeeding slaughter.

war.