Domitian | Page 9

such dexterity, that he could, in two shots,
plant them, like a pair of horns, in each. He would sometimes direct his
arrows against the hand of a boy standing at a distance, and expanded
as a mark, with such precision, that they all passed between the boy's
fingers, without hurting him.
XX. In the beginning of his reign, he gave up the study of the liberal
sciences, though he took care to restore, at a vast expense, the libraries
which had been burnt down; collecting manuscripts from all parts, and
sending scribes to Alexandria [839], either to copy or correct them. Yet
he never gave himself the trouble of reading history or poetry, or of
employing his pen even for his private purposes. He perused nothing

but the Commentaries and Acts of Tiberius Caesar. His letters,
speeches, and edicts, were all drawn up for him by others; though he
could converse with elegance, and sometimes expressed himself in
memorable sentiments. "I could wish," said he once, "that I was but as
handsome as Metius fancies himself to be." And of the head of some
one whose hair was partly reddish, and partly grey, he said, "that it was
snow sprinkled with mead."
XXI. "The lot of princes," he remarked, "was very miserable, for no
one believed them when they discovered a conspiracy, until they were
murdered." When he had leisure, he amused himself with dice, even on
days that were not festivals, and in the morning. He went to the bath
early, and made a plentiful dinner, insomuch that he seldom ate more at
supper than a Matian apple [840], to which he added a (497) draught of
wine, out of a small flask. He gave frequent and splendid
entertainments, but they were soon over, for he never prolonged them
after sun-set, and indulged in no revel after. For, till bed-time, he did
nothing else but walk by himself in private.
XXII. He was insatiable in his lusts, calling frequent commerce with
women, as if it was a sort of exercise, klinopalaen, bed-wrestling; and it
was reported that he plucked the hair from his concubines, and swam
about in company with the lowest prostitutes. His brother's daughter
[841] was offered him in marriage when she was a virgin; but being at
that time enamoured of Domitia, he obstinately refused her. Yet not
long afterwards, when she was given to another, he was ready enough
to debauch her, and that even while Titus was living. But after she had
lost both her father and her husband, he loved her most passionately,
and without disguise; insomuch that he was the occasion of her death,
by obliging her to procure a miscarriage when she was with child by
him.
XXIII. The people shewed little concern at his death, but the soldiers
were roused by it to great indignation, and immediately endeavoured to
have him ranked among the gods. They were also ready to revenge his
loss, if there had been any to take the lead. However, they soon after
effected it, by resolutely demanding the punishment of all those who

had been concerned in his assassination. On the other hand, the senate
was so overjoyed, that they met in all haste, and in a full assembly
reviled his memory in the most bitter terms; ordering ladders to be
brought in, and his shields and images to be pulled down before their
eyes, and dashed in pieces upon the floor of the senate-house passing at
the same time a decree to obliterate his titles every where, and abolish
all memory of him. A few months before he was slain, a raven on the
Capitol uttered these words: "All will be well." Some person gave the
following interpretation of this prodigy:
(498) Nuper Tarpeio quae sedit culmine cornix. "Est bene," non potuit
dicere; dixit, "Erit."
Late croaked a raven from Tarpeia's height, "All is not yet, but shall be,
right."
They say likewise that Domitian dreamed that a golden hump grew out
of the back of his neck, which he considered as a certain sign of happy
days for the empire after him. Such an auspicious change indeed
shortly afterwards took place, through the justice and moderation of the
succeeding emperors.
* * * * * *
If we view Domitian in the different lights in which he is represented,
during his lifetime and after his decease, his character and conduct
discover a greater diversity than is commonly observed in the objects
of historical detail. But as posthumous character is always the most just,
its decisive verdict affords the surest criterion by which this variegated
emperor must be estimated by impartial posterity. According to this
rule, it is beyond a doubt that his vices were more predominant than his
virtues: and when we follow him into