Such, then, are the traditions of the Greeks with respect to this monarch. The stories told by Ctesias of a king, to whom he gives the same name, and repeated from him by later writers, are probably not intended to have any reference to Asshur-bani-pal, the son of Esar-haddon, but rather refer to his successor, the last king. Even Ctesias could scarcely have ventured to depict to his countrymen the great Asshur-bani-pal, the vanquisher of Tirhakah, the subduer of the tribes beyond the Taurus, the powerful and warlike monarch whose friendship was courted by the rich and prosperous Gyges, king of Lydia, as a mere voluptuary, who never put his foot outside the palace gates, but dwelt in the seraglio, doing woman’s work, and often dressed as a woman. The character of Asshur-bani-pal stands really in the strongest contrast to the description—be it a portrait, or be it a mere sketch from fancy—which Ctesias gives of his Sardanapalus. Asshur-bani-pal, was beyond a doubt one of Assyria’s greatest kings. He subdued Egypt and Susiana; he held quiet possession of the kingdom of Babylon; he carried his arms deep into Armenia; he led his troops across the Taurus, and subdued the barbarous tribes of Asia Minor. When he was not engaged in important wars, he chiefly occupied himself in the chase of the lion, and in the construction and ornamentation of temples and palaces. His glory was well known to the Greeks. He was no doubt one of the “two kings called Sardanapalus,” celebrated by Hellanicus; he must have been “the warlike Sardanapalus” of Cailisthenes; Herodotus spoke of his great wealth; and Aristophanes used his name as a by-word for magnificence. In his reign the Assyrian dominions reached their greatest extent, Assyrian art culminated, and the empire seemed likely to extend itself over the whole of the East. It was then, indeed, that Assyria most completely answered the description of the Prophet—“The Assyrian was a cedar in Lebanon, with fair branches, and with a shadowing shroud, and of high stature; and his top was among the thick boughs. The waters made him great; the deep set him up on high with her rivers running about his plants, and sent out her little rivers unto all the trees of the field. Therefore his height was exalted above all the trees of the field, and his boughs were multiplied, and his branches became long, because of the multitude of waters, when he shot forth. All the fowls of the heaven made their nests in his boughs, and under his branches did all the beasts of the field bring forth their young, and under his shadow dwelt all great nations. Thus was he fair in his greatness, in the length of his branches for his root was by great waters. The cedars in the garden of God could not hide him; the fir-trees were not like his boughs; and the chestnut-trees were not like his branches; nor any tree in the garden of God was like unto him in his beauty.”

In one respect, however, Assyria, it is to be feared, had made but little advance beyond the spirit of a comparatively barbarous time. The “lion” still “tore in pieces for his whelps, and strangled for his lionesses, and filled his holes with prey, and his dens with ravin.” Advancing civilization, more abundant literature, improved art, had not softened the tempers of the Assyrians, nor rendered them more tender and compassionate in their treatment of captured enemies. Sennacherib and Esar-haddon show, indeed, in this respect, some superiority to former kings. They frequently spared their prisoners, even when rebels, and seem seldom to have had recourse to extreme punishments. But Asshur-bani-pal reverted to the antique system of executions, mutilations, and tortures. We see on his bas-reliefs the unresisting enemy thrust through with the spear, the tongue torn from the mouth of the captive accused of blasphemy, the rebel king beheaded on the field of battle, and the prisoner brought to execution with the head of a friend or brother hung round his neck. We see the scourgcrs preceding the king as his regular attendants, with their whips passed through their girdles; we behold the operation of flaying performed either upon living or dead men; we observe those who are about to be executed first struck on the face by the executioner’s fist. Altogether we seem to have evidence, not of mere severity, which may sometimes be a necessary or even a merciful policy, but of a barbarous cruelty, such as could not fail to harden and brutalize alike those who witnessed and those who inflicted it. Nineveh, it is plain, still deserved the epithet of “a bloody city,” or “a city of bloods.” Asshur-bani-pal was harsh, vindictive, unsparing, careless of human suffering—nay, glorying in his shame, he not merely practised cruelties, but handed the record of them down to posterity by representing them in all their horrors upon his palace walls.

It has been generally supposed that Asshur-bani-pal died about B.C. 648 or 647, in which case he would have continued to the end of his life a prosperous and mighty king. But recent discoveries render it probable that his reign was extended to a much greater length—that, in fact, he is to be identified with the Cinneladanus of Ptolemy’s Canon, who held the throne of Babylon from B.C. 647 to 626. If this be so, we must place in the later years of the reign of Asshur-bani-pal the commencement of Assyria’s decline—the change whereby she passed from the assailer to the assailed, from the undisputed primacy of Western Asia to a doubtful and precarious position.

This change was owing, in the first instance, to the rise upon her borders of an important military power in the centralized monarchy, established, about B.C. 640, in the neighboring territory of Media.

The Medes had, it is probable, been for some time growing in strength, owing to the recent arrival in their country of fresh immigrants from the far East. Discarding the old system of separate government and village autonomy, they had joined together and placed themselves under a single monarch; and about the year B.C. 634, when Asshur-bani-pal had been king for thirty-four years, they felt themselves sufficiently strong to undertake an expedition against Nineveh. Their first attack, however, failed utterly. Phraortes, or whoever may have been the real leader of the invading army, was completely defeated by the Assyrians; his forces were cut to pieces, and he himself was among the slain. Still, the very fact that the Medes could now take the offensive and attack Assyria was novel and alarming; it showed a new condition of things in these parts, and foreboded no good to the power which was evidently on the decline and in danger of losing its preponderance. An enterprising warrior would doubtless have followed up the defeat of the invader by attacking him in his own country before he could recover from the severe blow dealt him; but the aged Assyrian monarch appears to have been content with repelling his foe, and made no effort to retaliate. Cgaxares, the successor of the slain Median king, effected at his leisure such arrangements as he thought necessary before repeating his predecessor’s attempt. When they were completed—perhaps in B.C. 632—he led his troops into Assyria, defeated the Assyrian forces in the field, and, following up his advantage, appeared before Nineveh and closely invested the town. Nineveh would perhaps have fallen in this year; but suddenly and unexpectedly a strange event recalled the Median monarch to his own country, where a danger threatened him previously unknown in Western Asia.

When at the present day we take a general survey of the world’s past history, we see that, by a species of fatality—by a law, that is, whose workings we cannot trace—there issue from time to time out of the frozen bosons of the North vast hordes of uncouth savages—brave, hungry, countless—who swarm into the fairer southern regions determinedly, irresistibly; like locusts winging their flight into a green land. How such multitudes come to be propagated in countries where life is with difficulty sustained, we do not know; why the impulse suddenly seizes them to quit their old haunts and move steadily in a given direction, we cannot say: but we see that the phenomenon is one of constant recurrence, and we therefore now scarcely regard it as being curious or strange at all. In Asia. Cimmerians, Scythians, Parthians, Mongols, Turks; in Europe, Gauls, Goths, Huns, Avars, Vandals, Burgundians, Lombards, Bulgarians, have successively illustrated the law, and made us familiar with its operation. But there was a time in history before the law had come into force; and its very existence must have been then unsuspected. Even since it began to operate, it has so often undergone prolonged suspension, that the wisest may be excused if, under such circumstances, they cease to bear it in mind, and are as much startled when a fresh illustration of it occurs, as if the like had never happened before. Probably there is seldom an occasion of its coming into play which does not take men more or less by surprise, and rivet their attention by its seeming strangeness and real unexpectedness.

If Western Asia had ever, in the remote ages before the Assyrian monarchy was established, been subject to invasions of this character—which is not improbable—at any rate so long a period had elapsed since the latest of them, that in the reigns of Asshur-pani-pal and Cyaxares they were wholly forgotten and the South reposed in happy unconsciousness of a danger which might at any time have burst upon it, had the Providence which governs the world so willed. The Asiatic steppes had long teemed with a nomadic population, of a war-like temper, and but slightly attached to its homes, which ignorance of its own strength and of the weakness and wealth of its neighbors had alone prevented from troubling the great empires of the South. Geographic difficulties had at once prolonged the period of Ignorance, and acted as obstructions, if ever the idea arose of pushing exploring parties into the southern regions; the Caucasus, the Caspian, the sandy deserts of Khiva and Kharesm, and the great central Asiatic mountain-chains, forming barriers which naturally restrained the northern hordes from progressing in this direction. But a time had now arrived when these causes were no longer to operate; the line of demarcation which had so long separated North and South was to be crossed; the flood-gates were to be opened, and the stream of northern emigration was to pour itself in a resistless torrent over the fair and fertile regions from which it had hitherto been barred out. Perhaps population had increased beyond all former precedent; perhaps a spirit of enterprise had arisen; possibly some slight accident—the exploration of a hunter hard pressed for food, the chattering tongue of a merchant, the invitation of a traitor—may have dispelled the ignorance of earlier times, and brought to the knowledge of the hardy North the fact that beyond the mountains and the seas, which they had always regarded as the extreme limit of the world, there lay a rich prey inviting the coming of the spoiler.

The condition of the northern barbarians, less than two hundred years after this time, has been graphically portrayed by two of the most observant of the Greeks, who themselves visited the Steppe country to learn the character and customs of the people. Where civilization is unknown, changes are so slow and slight, that we may reasonably regard the descriptions of Herodotus and Hippocrates, though drawn in the fifth century before our era, as applying, in all their main points, to the same race two hundred years earlier. These writers describe the Scythians as a people coarse and gross in their habits, with large fleshy bodies, loose joints, soft swollen bellies, and scanty hair. They never washed themselves; their nearest approach to ablution was a vapor-bath, or the application of a paste to their bodies which left them glossy on its removal. They lived either in wagons, or in felt tents of a simple and rude construction; and subsisted on mare’s milk and cheese, to which the boiled flesh of horses and cattle was added, as a rare delicacy, occasionally. In war their customs were very barbarous. The Scythian who slew an enemy in battle immediately proceeded to drink his blood. He then cut off the head, which he exhibited to his king in order to obtain his share of the spoil; after which he stripped the scalp from the skull and hung it on his bridle-rein as a trophy. Sometimes he flayed his dead enemy’s right arm and hand, and used the skin as a covering for his quiver. The upper portion of the skull he commonly made into a drinking-cup. The greater part of each day he spent on horseback, in attendance on the huge herds of cattle which he pastured. His favorite weapon was the bow, which he used as he rode, shooting his arrows with great precision. He generally carried, besides his bow and arrows, a short spear or javelin, and sometimes bore also a short sword or a battleaxe. [PLATE CXLVI., Fig. 3.]

The nation of the Scythians comprised within it a number of distinct tribes. At the head of all was a royal tribe, corresponding to the “Golden Horde” of the Mongols, which was braver and more numerous than any other, and regarded all the remaining tribes in the light of slaves. To this belonged the families of the kings, who ruled by hereditary right, and seem to have exercised a very considerable authority. We often hear of several kings as bearing rule at the same time; but there is generally some indication of disparity, from which we gather that—in times of danger at any rate—the supreme power was really always lodged in the hands of a single man.

The religion of the Scythians was remarkable, and partook of the barbarity which characterized most of their customs. They worshipped the Sun and Moon, Fire, Air, Earth, Water, and a god whom Herodotus calls Hercules. But their principal religious observance was the worship of the naked sword. The country was parcelled out into districts, and in every district was a huge pile of brushwood, serving as a temple to the neighborhood, at the top of which was planted an antique sword or scimitar. On a stated day in each year solemn sacrifices, human and animal, were offered at these shrines; and the warm blood of the victims was carried up from below and poured upon the weapon. The human victims—prisoners taken in war—were hewn to pieces at the foot of the mound, and their limbs wildly tossed on high by the votaries, who then retired, leaving the bloody fragments where they chanced to fall. The Scythians seem to have had no priest caste; but they believed in divination; and the diviners formed a distinct class which possessed important powers. They were sent for whenever the king was ill, to declare the cause of his illness, which they usually attributed to the fact that an individual, whom they named, had sworn falsely by the Royal Hearth. Those accused in this way, if found guilty by several bodies of diviners, were beheaded for the offence, and their original accusers received their property. It must have been important to keep on good terms with persons who wielded such a power as this.

Such were the most striking customs of the Scythian people, or at any rate of the Scythians of Herodotus, who were the dominant race over a large portion of the Steppe country. Coarse and repulsive in their appearance, fierce in their tempers, savage in their habits, not individually very brave, but powerful by their numbers, and by a mode of warfare which was difficult to meet, and in which long use had given them great expertness, they were an enemy who might well strike alarm even into a nation so strong and warlike as the Medes. Pouring through the passes of the Caucasus—whence coming or what intending none knew—horde after horde of Scythians blackened the rich plains of the South. On they came, as before observed, like a flight of locusts, countless, irresistible—swarming into Iberia and Upper Media—finding the land before them a garden, and leaving it behind them a howling wilderness. Neither age nor sex would be spared. The inhabitants of the open country and of the villages, if they did not make their escape to high mountain tops or other strongholds, would be ruthlessly massacred by the invaders, or at best, forced to become their slaves. The crops would be consumed, the herds swept off or destroyed, the villages and homesteads burnt, the whole country made a scene of desolation. Their ravages would resemble those of the Huns when they poured into Italy, or of the Bulgarians when they overran the fairest provinces of the Byzantine Empire. In most instances the strongly fortified towns would resist them, unless they had patience to sit down before their walls and by a prolonged blockade to starve them into submission. Sometimes, before things reached this point, they might consent to receive a tribute and to retire. At other times, convinced that by perseverance they would reap a rich reward, they may have remained till the besieged city fell, when there must have ensued an indescribable scene of havoc, rapine, and bloodshed. According to the broad expression of Herodotus, the Scythians were masters of the whole of Western Asia from the Caucasus to the borders of Egypt for the space of twenty-eight years. This statement is doubtless an exaggeration; but still it would seem to be certain that the great invasion of which he speaks was not confined to Media, but extended to the adjacent countries of Armenia and Assyria, whence it spread to Syria and Palestine. The hordes probably swarmed down from Media through the Zagros passes into the richest portion of Assyria, the flat country between the mountains and the Tigris. Many of the old cities, rich with the accumulated stores of ages, were besieged, and perhaps taken, and their palaces wantonly burnt, by the barbarous invaders. The tide then swept on. Wandering from district to district, plundering everywhere, settling nowhere, the clouds of horse passed over Mesopotamia, the force of the invasion becoming weaker as it spread itself, until in Syria it reached its term through the policy of the Egyptian king, Psammetichus. This monarch, who was engaged in the siege of Ashdod, no sooner heard of the approach of a great Scythian host, which threatened to overrun Egypt, and had advanced as far as Ascalon, than he sent ambassadors to their leader and prevailed on him by rich gifts to abstain from his enterprise. From this time the power of the invaders seems to have declined. Their strength could not but suffer by the long series of battles, sieges, and skirmishes in which they were engaged year after year against enemies in nowise contemptible; it would likewise deteriorate through their excesses; and it may even have received some injury from intestine quarrels. After awhile, the nations whom they had overrun, whose armies they had defeated, and whose cities they had given to the flames, began to recover themselves. Cyaxares, it is probable, commenced an aggressive war against such of the invaders as had remained within the limits of his dominions, and soon drove them beyond his borders. Other kings may have followed his example. In a little while long, probably, before the twenty-eight years of Herodotus had expired—the Scythian power was completely broken. Many bands may have returned across the Caucasus into the Steppe country. Others submitted, and took service under the native rulers of Asia. Great numbers were slain and except in a province of Armenia which henceforward became known as Sacasene, and perhaps in one Syrian town, which we find called Scythopolis, the invaders left no trace of their brief but terrible inroad.

If we have been right in supposing that the Scythian attack fell with as much severity on the Assyrians as on any other Asiatic people, we can scarcely be in error if we ascribe to this cause the rapid and sudden decline of the empire at this period. The country had been ravaged and depopulated, the provinces had been plundered, many of the great towns had been taken and sacked, the palaces of the old kings had been burnt, and all the gold and silver that was not hid away had been carried off. Assyria, when the Scythians quitted her, was but the shadow of her former self. Weak and exhausted, she seemed to invite a permanent conqueror. If her limits had not much shrunk, if the provinces still acknowledged her authority, it was from habit rather than from fear, or because they too had suffered greatly from the northern barbarians. We find Babylon subject to Assyria to the very last; and we seem to see that Judaea passed from the rule of the Assyrians under that of the Babylonians, without any interval of independence or any need of re-conquest. But if these two powers at the south-eastern and the south-western extremities of the empire continued faithful, the less distant nations could scarcely have thrown off the yoke.

Asshur-bani-pal, then, on the withdrawal of the barbarians, had still an empire to rule, and he may be supposed to have commenced some attempts at re-organizing and re-invigorating the governmental system to which the domination of the Scythe must have given a rude shock. But he had not time to effect much. In B.C. 626 he died, after a reign of forty-two years, and was succeeded by his son, Asshur-emid-ilin, whom the Greeks called Saracus. Of this prince we possess but few native records; and, unless it should be thought that the picture which Ctesias gave of the character and conduct of his last Assyrian king deserves to be regarded as authentic history, and to be attached to this monarch, we must confess to an almost equal dearth of classical notices of his life and actions. Scarcely anything has come down to us from his time but a few legends on bricks, from which it appears that he was the builder of the south-east edifice at Nimrud, a construction presenting some remarkable but no very interesting features. The classical notices, apart from the tales which Ctesias originated, are limited to a few sentences in Abydenus, and a word or two in Polyhistor. Thus nearly the same obscurity which enfolds the earlier portion of the history gathers about the monarch in whose person the empire terminated; and instead of the ample details which have crowded upon us now for many consecutive reigns, we shall be reduced to a meagre outline, partly resting upon conjecture, in our portraiture of this last king.

Saracus, as the monarch may be termed after Abydenus, ascended the throne at a most difficult and dangerous crisis in his country’s history. Assyria was exhausted; and perhaps half depopulated by the Scythic ravages. The bands which united the provinces to the sovereign state, though not broken, had been weakened, and rebellion threatened to break out in various quarters. Ruin had overtaken many of the provincial towns; and it would require a vast outlay to restore their public buildings. But the treasury was wellnigh empty, and did not allow the new monarch to adopt in his buildings the grand and magnificent style of former kings. Still Saracus attempted something. At Calah he began the construction of a building which apparently was intended for a palace, but which contrasts most painfully with the palatial erections of former kings. The waning glory of the monarchy was made patent both to the nation and to strangers by an edifice where coarse slabs of common limestone, unsculptured and uninscribed, replaced the alabaster bas-reliefs of former times; and where a simple plaster above the slabs was the substitute for the richly-patterned enamelled bricks of Sargon, Sennacherib, and Asshur-bani-pal. A set of small chambers, of which no one exceeded forty-five feet in length and twenty-five feet in its greatest breadth, sufficed for the last Assyrian king, whose shrunken Court could no longer have filled the vast halls of his ancestors. The Nimrud palace of Saracus seems to have covered less than one-half of the space occupied by any former palace upon the mound; it had no grand facade, no magnificent gateway; the rooms, curiously misshapen, as if taste had declined with power and wealth, were mostly small and inconvenient, running in suites which opened into one another without any approaches from courts or passages, roughly paved with limestone flags, and composed of sun-dried bricks faced with limestone and plaster. That Saracus should have been reduced even to contemplate residing in this poor and mean dwelling is the strongest possible proof of Assyria’s decline and decay at a period preceding the great war which led to her destruction.

It is possible that this edifice may not have been completed at the time of Saracus’s death, and in that case we may suppose that its extreme rudeness would have received certain embellishments had he lived to finish the structure. While it was being erected, he must have resided elsewhere. Apparently, he held his court at Nineveh during this period; and was certainly there that he made his last arrangements for defence, and his final stand against the enemy, who took advantage of his weak condition to press forward the conquest of the empire.

The Medes, in their strong upland country, abounding in rocky hills, and running up in places into mountain-chains, had probably suffered much less from the ravages of the Scyths than the Assyrians in their comparatively defenceless plains. Of all the nations exposed to the scourge of the invasion they were evidently the first to recover themselves, partly from the local causes here noticed, partly perhaps from their inherent vigor and strength. If Herodotus’s date for the original inroad of the Scythians is correct, not many years can have elapsed before the tide of war turned, and the Medes began to make head against their assailants, recovering possession of most parts of their country, and expelling or overpowering the hordes at whose insolent domination they had chafed from the first hour of the invasion. It was probably as early as B.C. 627, five years after the Scyths crossed the Caucasus, according to Herodotus, that Cyaxares, having sufficiently re-established his power in Media, began once more to aspire after foreign conquests. Casting his eyes around upon the neighboring countries, he became aware of the exhaustion of Assyria, and perceived that she was not likely to offer an effectual resistance to a sudden and vigorous attack. He therefore collected a large army and invaded Assyria from the east, while it would seem that the Susianians, with whom he had perhaps made an alliance, attacked her from the south.

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.

The art of Assyria has every appearance of thorough and entire nationality; but it is impossible to feel sure that her manufactures were in the same sense absolutely her own. The practice of borrowing skilled workmen from the conquered states would introduce into Nineveh and the other royal cities the fabrics of every region which acknowledged the Assyrian sway; and plunder, tribute, and commerce would unite to enrich them with the choicest products of all civilized countries. Still, judging by the analogy of modern times, it seems most reasonable to suppose that the bulk of the manufactured goods consumed in the country would be of home growth. Hence we may fairly assume that the vases, jars, bronzes, glass bottles, carved ornaments in ivory and mother-of-pearl, engraved gems, bells, dishes, earrings, arms, working implements, etc., which have been found at Nimrud, Khorsabad, and Koyunjik, are mainly the handiwork of the Assyrians. It has been conjectured that the rich garments represented as worn by the kings and others were the product of Babylon, always famous for its tissues; but even this is uncertain; and they are perhaps as likely to have been of home manufacture. At any rate the bulk of the ornaments, utensils, etc’., may be regarded as native products. They are almost invariably of elegant form, and indicate a considerable knowledge of metallurgy and other arts as well as a refined taste. Among them are some which anticipate inventions believed till lately to have been modern. Transparent glass (which, however, was known also in ancient Egypt) is one of these; but the most remarkable of all is the lens discovered at Nimrud, of the use of which as a magnifying agent there is abundant proof. If it be borne in mind, in addition to all this, that the buildings of the Assyrians show them to have been well acquainted with the principle of the arch, that they constructed tunnels, aqueducts, and drains, that they knew the use of the pulley, the lever, and the roller, that they understood the arts of inlaying, enamelling, and overlaying with metals, and that they cut gems with the greatest skill and finish, it will be apparent that their civilization equalled that of almost any ancient country, and that it did not fall immeasurably behind the boasted achievements of the moderns. With much that was barbaric still attaching to them, with a rude and inartificial government, savage passions, a debasing religion, and a general tendency to materialism, they were, towards the close of their empire, in all the ordinary arts and appliances of life, very nearly on a par with ourselves; and thus their history furnishes a warning—which the records of nations constantly repeat—that the greatest material prosperity may co-exist with the decline—and herald the downfall—of a kingdom.