“As to the relations which have been handed down of events prior to the founding of the city, or to the circumstances that gave occasion to its being founded, and which bear the semblance rather of poetic fictions than of authentic records of history—these, I have no intention either to maintain or refute. Antiquity is always indulged with the privilege of rendering the origin of cities more venerable, by intermixing divine with human agency; and if any nation may claim the privilege of being allowed to consider its original as sacred, and to attribute it to the operations of the gods, surely the Roman people, who rank so high in military fame, may well expect, that, while they choose to represent Mars as their own parent, and that of their founder, the other nations of the world may acquiesce in this, with the same deference with which they acknowledge their sovereignty. But what degree of attention or credit may be given to these and such like matters I shall not consider as very material.”
Particular attention should be called to the remarks of Livy, just quoted; which seem clearly enough to show that he was by no means so credulous regarding the traditions of early Rome as his manner of relating these traditions might lead one to suppose. It is probable that the judgment of later generations usually goes astray when attempting to estimate the exact level of credulity of any anterior generation. Doubtless the Romans as a class gave far more credence to the hero tales than we are disposed to give them now. We shall have abundant evidence that even in the golden period of the empire superstitions as to miracles and the like were not altogether repudiated, even by such writers as Tacitus; but, on the other hand, we may well believe that writers of such capacity as Livy allowed a desire for artistic presentation of a theme to conceal a scepticism which he would not otherwise have hesitated to avow. Be that as it may, posterity has all along clung to the myths of early Rome, and we of to-day cannot ignore them, whatever estimate we put upon their authenticity. It is through the pages of Dionysius and Livy, chiefly, that these fascinating tales have been preserved to us.
Coming down the centuries we find no great name until we reach the period when Rome, having firmly established her power in Italy, began to look out beyond the bounds of the peninsula and dream of foreign conquests. This great culminating epoch of Roman history found a great transcriber in Polybius. His work was avowedly written to describe and explain the events by which Rome “in the short period of fifty-three years,” conquered the world. Polybius was himself a Greek, born in Megalopolis. He was a practical statesman, and the personal friend of Aratus, the leader of the Achæan League. We have noted in a previous volume that Polybius was one of the thousand Greeks sent as hostages to Rome. He spent the greater part of the remainder of his life in Italy; became the personal friend of Scipio the Younger, and was present with that leader when Carthage was finally destroyed. Belonging thus to the later epoch of Grecian history, when the spirit of the age was philosophical rather than artistic, Polybius wrote such a work as might be expected of a man of genius of his time. His point of view is utterly different from that of his great predecessor Herodotus, though not altogether dissimilar to that of Thucydides. He himself tells us over and over—in fact he never tires of repeating—that his intention is to instruct rather than to entertain; to teach the causes of Rome’s success; to point the moral of her victories. Being a man of affairs, he not unnaturally holds that only men of affairs are competent to become reliable historians. He points out that there are two ways of gaining knowledge: “one derived from reading books, and the other from interrogating men;” he inveighs with some asperity against those historians, taking Timæus as a type, who confine themselves to the former method.