To meet this double danger. Saracus, the Assyrian king, determined on dividing his forces: and, while he entrusted a portion of them to a general, Nabopolassar, who had orders to proceed to Babylon and engage the enemy advancing from the sea, he himself with the remainder made ready to receive the Medes. In idea this was probably a judicious disposition of the troops at his disposal; it was politic to prevent a junction of the two assailing powers, and, as the greater danger was that which threatened from the Medes, it was well for the king to reserve himself with the bulk of his forces to meet this enemy. But the most prudent arrangements may be disconcerted by the treachery of those who are entrusted with their execution; and so it was in the present instance. The faithless Nabopolassar saw in his sovereign’s difficulty his own opportunity and, instead of marching against Assyria’s enemies, as his duty required him, he secretly negotiated an arrangement with Cyaxares, agreed to become his ally against the Assyrians, and obtained the Median king’s daughter as a bride for Nebuchadnezzar, his eldest son. Cyaxares and Nabopolassar then joined their efforts against Nineveh; and Saracus, unable to resist them, took counsel of his despair, and, after all means of resistance were exhausted, burned himself in his palace. It is uncertain whether we possess any further historical details of the siege. The narrative of Ctesias may embody a certain number of the facts, as it certainly represented with truth the strange yet not incredible termination. But on the other hand, we cannot feel sure, with regard to any statement made solely by that writer, that it has any other source than his imagination. Hence the description of the last siege of Nineveh, as given by Diodorus on the authority of Ctesias, seems undeserving of a place in history, though the attention of the curious may properly be directed to it.

The empire of the Assyrians thus fell, not so much from any inherent weakness, or from the effect of gradual decay, as by an unfortunate combination of circumstances—the occurrence of a terrible inroad of northern barbarians just at the time when a warlike nation, long settled on the borders of Assyria, and within a short distance of her capital, was increasing, partly by natural and regular causes, partly by accidental and abnormal ones, in greatness and strength. It will be proper, in treating of the history of Media, to trace out, as far as our materials allow, these various causes, and to examine the mode and extent of their operation. But such an inquiry is not suited for this place, since, if fully made, it would lead us too far away from our present subject, which is the history of Assyria; while, if made partially, it would be unsatisfactory. It is therefore deferred to another place. The sketch here attempted of Assyrian history will now be brought to a close by a few observations on the general nature of the monarchy, or its extent in the most flourishing period, and on the character of its civilization.

The independent kingdom of Assyria covered a space of at least a thousand years; but the empire can, at the utmost, be considered to have lasted a period short of seven centuries, from B.C. 1300 to B.C. 625 or 624—the date of the conquest of Cyaxares. In reality, the period of extensive domination seems to have commenced with Asshur-ris-ilim, about B.C. 1150, so that the duration of the true empire did not much exceed five centuries. The limits of the dominion varied considerably within this period, the empire expanding or contracting according to the circumstances of the time and the personal character of the prince by whom the throne was occupied. The extreme extent appears not to have been reached until almost immediately before the last rapid decline set in, the widest dominion belonging to the time of Asshur-bani-pal, the conqueror of Egypt, of Susiana, and of the Armenians. In the middle part of this prince’s reign Assyria was paramount over the portion of Western Asia included between the Mediterranean and the Halys on the one hand, the Caspian Sea and the great Persian desert on the other. Southwards the boundary was formed by Arabia and the Persian Gulf; northwards it seems at no time to have advanced to the Euxine or to the Caucasus, but to have been formed by a fluctuating line, which did not in the most flourishing period extend so far as the northern frontier of Armenia. Besides her Asiatic dominions, Assyria possessed also at this time a portion of Africa, her authority being acknowledged by Egypt as far as the latitude of Thebes. The countries included within the limits thus indicated, and subject during the period in question to Assyrian influence, were chiefly the following: Susiana, Chaldaea, Babylonia, Media, Matiene or the Zagros range, Mesopotamia; parts of Armenia, Cappadocia, and Cilicia; Syria, Phoenicia, Palestine. Idummaea, a portion of Arabia, and almost the whole of Egypt. The island of Cyprus was also, it is probable, a dependency. On the other hand, Persia Proper, Bactria, and Sogdiana, even Hyrcania, were beyond the eastern limit of the Assyrian sway, which towards the north did not on this side reach further than about the neighborhood of Kasvin, and towards the south was confined within the barrier of Zagros. Similarly on the west, Phrygia, Lydia, Lycia, even Pamphylia, were independent, the Assyrian arms having never, so far as appears, penetrated westward beyond Cilicia or crossed the river Halys.

The nature of the dominion established by the great Mesopotamian monarchy over the countries included within the limits above indicated, will perhaps be best understood if we compare it with the empire of Solomon. Solomon reigned over all the kingdoms from the river (Euphrates) unto the land of the Philistines and unto the border of Egypt: they brought presents and served Solomon all the days of his life. The first and most striking feature of the earliest empires is that they are a mere congeries of kingdoms: the countries over which the dominant state acquires an influence, not only retain their distinct individuality, as is the case in some modern empires, but remain in all respects such as they were before, with the simple addition of certain obligations contracted towards the paramount authority. They keep their old laws, their old religion, their line of kings, their law of succession, their whole internal organization and machinery; they only acknowledge an external suzerainty which binds them to the performance of certain duties towards the Head of the Empire. These duties, as understood in the earliest times, may be summed up in the two words “homage” and “tribute;” the subject kings “serve” and “bring presents.” They are bound to acts of submission; must attend the court of their suzerain when summoned, unless they have a reasonable excuse; must there salute him as a superior, and otherwise acknowledge his rank; above all, they must pay him regularly the fixed tribute which has been imposed upon them at the time of their submission or subjection, the unauthorized withholding of which is open and avowed rebellion. Finally, they must allow his troops free passage through their dominions, and must oppose any attempt at invasion by way of their country on the part of his enemies. Such are the earliest and most essential obligations on the part of the subject states in an empire of the primitive type like that of Assyria; and these obligations, with the corresponding one on the part of the dominant power of the protection of its dependants against foreign foes, appear to have constituted the sole links which joined together in one the heterogeneous materials of which that empire consisted.

It is evident that a government of the character here described contains within it elements of constant disunion and disorder. Under favorable circumstances, with an active and energetic prince upon the throne, there is an appearance of strength, and a realization of much magnificence and grandeur. The subject monarchs pay annually their due share of “the regulated tribute of the empire;” and the better to secure the favor of their common sovereign, add to it presents, consisting of the choicest productions of their respective kingdoms. The material resources of the different countries are placed at the disposal of the dominant power; and skilled workmen are readily lent for the service of the court, who adorn or build the temples and the royal residences, and transplant the luxuries and refinements of their several states to the imperial capital. But no sooner does any untoward event occur, as a disastrous expedition, a foreign attack, a domestic conspiracy, or even an untimely and unexpected death of the reigning prince, than the inherent weakness of this sort of government at once displays itself—the whole fabric of the empire falls asunder—each kingdom re-asserts its independence—tribute ceases to be paid—and the mistress of a hundred states suddenly finds herself thrust back into her primitive condition, stripped of the dominion which has been her strength, and thrown entirely upon her own resources. Then the whole task of reconstruction has to be commenced anew—one by one the rebel countries are overrun, and the rebel monarchs chastised—tribute is re-imposed, submission enforced, and in fifteen or twenty years the empire has perhaps recovered itself. Progress is of course slow and uncertain, where the empire has continually to be built up again from its foundations, and where at any time a day may undo the work which it has taken centuries to accomplish.

To discourage and check the chronic disease of rebellion, re-course is had to severe remedies, which diminish the danger to the central power, at the cost of extreme misery and often almost entire ruin to the subject kingdoms. Not only are the lands wasted, the flocks and herds carried off, the towns pillaged and burnt, or in some cases razed to the ground, the rebel king deposed and his crown transferred to another, the people punished by the execution of hundreds or thousands as well as by an augmentation of the tribute money; but sometimes wholesale deportation of the inhabitants is practised, tens or hundreds of thousands being carried away captive by the conquerors, and either employed in servile labor at the capital or settled as colonists in a distant province. With this practice the history of the Jews, in which it forms so prominent a feature, has made us familiar. It seems to have been known to the Assyrians from very early times, and to have become by degrees a sort of settled principle in their government. In the most flourishing period of their dominion—the reigns of Sargon, Sennacherib, and Esar-haddon—it prevailed most widely, and was carried to the greatest extent. Chaldaeans were transported into Armenia, Jews and Israelites into Assyria and Media, Arabians, Babylonians, Susianians, and Persians into Palestine—the most distant portions of the empire changed inhabitants, and no sooner did a people become troublesome from its patriotism and love of independence, than it was weakened by dispersion, and its spirit subdued by a severance of all its local associations. Thus rebellion was in some measure kept down, and the position of the central or sovereign state was rendered so far more secure; but this comparative security was gained by a great sacrifice of strength, and when foreign invasion came, the subject kingdoms, weakened at once and alienated by the treatment which they had received, were found to have neither the will nor the power to give any effectual aid to their enslaver.

Such, in its broad and general outlines, was the empire of the Assyrians. It embodied the earliest, simplest, and most crude conception which the human mind forms of a widely extended dominion. It was a “kingdom-empire,” like the empires of Solomon, of Nebuchadnezzar, of Chedor-laomer, and probably of Cyaxares, and it the best specimen of its class, being the largest, the longest in duration, and the best known of all such governments that has existed. It exhibits in a marked way both the strength and weakness of this class of monarchies—their strength in the extraordinary magnificence, grandeur, wealth, and refinement of the capital; their weakness in the impoverishment, the exhaustion, and the consequent disaffection of the subject states. Ever falling to pieces, it was perpetually reconstructed by the genius and prowess of a long succession of warrior princes, seconded by the skill and bravery of the people. Fortunate in possessing for a longtime no very powerful neighbor, it found little difficulty in extending itself throughout regions divided and subdivided among hundreds of petty chiefs incapable of union, and singly quite unable to contend with the forces of a large and populous country. Frequently endangered by revolts, yet always triumphing over them, it maintained itself for five centuries gradually advancing its influence, and was only overthrown after a fierce struggle by a new kingdom formed upon its borders, which, taking advantage of a time of exhaustion, and leagued with the most powerful of the subject states, was enabled to accomplish the destruction of the long-dominant people.

In the curt and dry records of the Assyrian monarchs, while the broad outlines of the government are well marked, it is difficult to distinguish those nicer shades of system and treatment which no doubt existed, and in which the empire of the Assyrians differed probably from others of the same type. One or two such points, however, may perhaps be made out. In the first place, though religious uniformity is certainly not the law of the empire, yet a religious character appears in many of the wars, and attempts at any rate seem to be made to diffuse everywhere a knowledge and recognition of the gods of Assyria. Nothing is more universal than the practice of setting up in the subject countries the laws of Asshur or “altars to the Great Gods.” In some instances not only altars but temples are erected, and priests are left to superintend the worship and secure its being properly conducted. The history of Judaea is, however, enough to show that the continuance of the national worship was at least tolerated, though some formal acknowledgment of the presiding deities of Assyria on the part of the subject nations may not improbably have been required in most cases.

Secondly, there is an indication that in certain countries immediately bordering on Assyria endeavors were made from time to time to centralize and consolidate the empire, by substituting, on fit occasions, for the native chiefs, Assyrian officers as governors. The persons appointed are of two classes—“collectors” and “treasurers.” Their special business is, of course, as their names imply, to gather in the tribute due to the Great King, and secure its safe transmission to the capital; but they seem to have been, at least in some instances, entrusted with the civil government of their respective districts. It does not appear that this system was ever extended very far, Lebanon on the west, and Mount Zagros on the east, may be regarded as the extreme limits of the centralized Assyria. Armenia, Media, Babylonia, Susiana, most of Phoenicia, Palestine, Philistia, retained to the last their native monarchs; and thus Assyria, despite the feature here noticed, kept upon the whole her character of a “kingdom-empire.”

The civilization of the Assyrians is a large subject, on which former chapters of this work have, it is hoped, thrown some light, and upon which only a very few remarks will be here offered by way of recapitulation. Deriving originally letters and the elements of learning from Babylonia, the Assyrians appear to have been content with the knowledge thus obtained, and neither in literature nor in science to have progressed much beyond their instructors. The heavy incubus of a dead language lay upon all those who desired to devote themselves to scientific pursuits; and, owing to this, knowledge tended to become the exclusive possession of a learned or perhaps a priest class, which did not aim at progress, but was satisfied to hand on the traditions of former ages. To understand the genius of the Assyrian people we must look to their art and their manufactures. These are in the main probably of native growth; and from them we may best gather an impression of the national character. They show us a patient, laborious, pains-taking people, with more appreciation of the useful than the ornamental, and of the actual than the ideal. Architecture, the only one of the fine arts which is essentially useful, forms their chief glory; sculpture, and still more painting, are subsidiary to it. Again, it is the most useful edifice—the palace or house—whereon attention is concentrated—the temple and the tomb, the interest attaching to which is ideal and spiritual, are secondary, and appear (so far as they appear at all) simply as appendages of the palace. In the sculpture it is the actual the historically true—which the artist strives to represent. Unless in the case of a few mythic figures connected with the religion of the country, there is nothing in the Assyrian bas-reliefs which is not imitated from nature. The imitation is always laborious, and often most accurate and exact. The laws of representation, as we understand them, are sometimes departed from, but it is always to impress the spectator with ideas in accordance with truth. Thus the colossal bulls and lions have five legs, but in order that they may be seen from every point of view with four; the ladders are placed edgewise against the walls of besieged towns, but it is to show that they are ladders, and not mere poles; walls of cities are made disproportionately small, but it is done, like Raphael’s boat, to bring them within the picture, which would otherwise be a less complete representation of the actual fact. The careful finish, the minute detail, the elaboration of every hair in a beard, and every stitch in the embroidery of a dress, reminds us of the Dutch school of painting, and illustrates strongly the spirit of faithfulness and honesty which pervades the sculptures, and gives them so great a portion of their value. In conception, in grace, in freedom and correctness of outline, they fall undoubtedly far behind the inimitable productions of the Greeks; but they have a grandeur and a dignity, a boldness, a strength, and an appearance of life, which render them even intrinsically valuable as works of art, and, considering the time at which they were produced, must excite our surprise and admiration. Art, so far as we know, had existed previously only in the stiff and lifeless conventionalism of the Egyptians. It belonged to Assyria to confine the conventional to religion, and to apply art to the vivid representation of the highest scenes of human life. War in all its forms—the-march, the battle, the pursuit, the siege of towns, the passage of rivers and marshes, the submission and treatment of captives, and the “mimic war” of hunting the chase of the lion, the stag, the antelope, the wild bull, and the wild ass, are the chief subjects treated by the Assyrian sculptors; and in these the conventional is discarded; fresh scenes, new groupings, bold and strange attitudes perpetually appear, and in the animal representations especially there is a continual advance, the latest being the most spirited, the most varied, and the most true to nature, though perhaps lacking somewhat of the majesty and grandeur of the earlier. With no attempt to idealize or go beyond nature, there is a growing power of depicting things as they are—an increased grace and delicacy of execution, showing that Assyrian art was progressive, not stationary, and giving a promise of still higher excellence, had circumstances permitted its development.