Whilst however we maintain that Rome was led to Britain by the impulse of a power of which she was not conscious, and whilst we willingly acknowledge that the conquest of Britain by the Romans was the first of that series of signal providential arrangements, by which, from the dawn of history to the present hour, ‘the Governor among the nations’ has prepared this island for performing that important part in the drama of history, which she now sustains,—the enquiry yet remains, by what motive were the conquerors more immediately impelled to settle in so remote an island? Such toils would not have been endured, such sacrifices would not have been made, victories over tribes so savage would not thus have been gloried in, except the question ‘cui bono?’ could have been satisfactorily answered. ‘I confess,’ says Horsley, 'that when I view some part of the country in the north of England, where the Romans had their military ways and stations, that question naturally arises, which has been often proposed: What could move them to march so far to conquer such a country? It appears wild and desolate enough at present, but must have been more so at that time, from the accounts the Roman historians have given us of it. I shall leave the Caledonian Galgacus, or Tacitus for him, to return the answer—If the enemy was rich, their covetousness moved them; if poor, their ambition. And when they added further desolation to a desolate country, this was their peace.' Ambition was doubtless the leading motive. From the earliest periods of Roman history we find her bent upon conquest. Incessant wars engendered a thirst for victory, and military glory became the ruling passion of the people. The wide grasp of their ambition gave to the features of Roman character harder, but grander lineaments than those which their more polished neighbours of Greece possessed. Flattered, as the lords of the world, by their favourite poets and historians, they gloried in their proud pre-eminence, and thought that they were but fulfilling their destiny in asserting a claim to universal dominion. Candidates for public favour knew well that to fan the popular passion was the readiest way to succeed in their aims. None understood this better than Julius Cæsar; and the later emperors, who possessed not the power to strike an energetic blow, found it necessary to maintain the show at least of conquest and of triumph.
WEALTH OF ANCIENT BRITAIN.
Less worthy inducements were, however, not wanting. There are few evils in the fibres of whose roots the love of money will not be found. Gold was another secret but powerful cause of the hardships which the Romans themselves underwent, and of the countless ills which they mercilessly inflicted upon the miserable islanders. The British chiefs in general appear to have had considerable riches among them. Cæsar, according to Strabo, acquired a large booty in his two descents upon our shore. Prasutagus, the king of the Iceni, died possessed of very great wealth. To a few states in the south, and within a few years after their first subjection, the philosophical Seneca lent more than four hundred and eighty thousand pounds of our money upon good security, and at exorbitant interest.[[12]] Severus got a prodigious mass of riches in this land. Gold is not now an article of mineral wealth in Britain. We are not from this to infer that it was not so when it was first invaded. The precious metal is not met with in veins or strata, but is diffused over the alluvial soil, or mixed with the sand of rivers in grains or lumps. When the commercial value of the glittering dust is discovered, it is speedily picked up, and a country, once rich in it, becomes, in the course of ages, impoverished. The number of massive golden torques and armillæ of the ancient Britons, which even yet are from time to time being brought to light, favours the idea that the metal was, in ancient days, tolerably abundant. Whatever the secret motives, Cæsar came and conquered—
The Roman taught thy stubborn knee to bow,
Though twice a Cæsar could not bend it now.
THE FATE OF ROME.
In passing from the contemplation of the Roman occupation of Britain to our examination of the remains of the chief monument of imperial power which time has left us, the mind will experience a great transition. In the Wall, we have evident traces of the might of Rome, but it is the might of a giant laid prostrate—
. . . . . Her haughty carcass spread,
Still awes in ruins, and commands when dead.
Centuries have elapsed since the vast fabric was upreared, but they have been centuries rife with the fate of empires.