sulted him he answered,—'Yet I was once your emperor.'"
We must not pass over, though we can merely refer to, an episode in the 'History' of Tacitus, that in which he treats of the revolt of the Germans. The destruction of three emperors, the disturbances in Judæa, the devastation of Italy, had severely strained the sinews of the empire. But its imminent danger at this period lay not south of the Alps, but on the borders of the Rhine and the Danube. The main interest of this episode consists not in sieges and battles, in the fidelity or faithlessness of States or individuals, in the lawless conduct of the armies, or the feeble and fluctuating measures of their generals. These were features common to every district visited by the civil, or more properly the imperial, wars of 69 and 70 A.D. The revolt of Germany was an insurrection against Roman rule itself, not against any one of the four competitors for the purple. It was a widely spread, for a while an ably organised movement, and at more than one period it had the appearance of a successful one. It reveals to us how deeply that rule had been affected by the extravagance and cruelty of such Cæsars as Caligula or Nero: to what extent by their indulgence they had demoralised the armies and degraded the majesty of the empire. Yet it also shows how strong and effective was its organisation: how unable to cope with it were the most valiant and disciplined of the rebels. Had the coalition of Germans and Gauls been sound and sincere, had the authors and leaders of it added to their enthusiasm the steady and sagacious temper of the warriors and statesmen who had made Rome the mistress of the world, it is difficult to see how the
