Wilful unfairness can never be attributed to Livy: he was prejudiced, but he was not party-spirited. He loved his country and his countrymen, and could scarcely persuade himself of the possibility of their doing wrong. He could scarcely believe anything derogatory to the national glory. When (to take a striking example,) in the case of the treaty with Porsena, there were two opposite stories, he was led by this partiality to ignore the well-authenticated fact of the capture of Rome, and to adopt that account which was most creditable to his countrymen.[972] Whenever Rome was false to treaties, unmerciful in victory, or unsuccessful in arms, he is always anxious to find excuses. His predilections are evidently aristocratic; and although he states the facts fairly, he wishes his reader to sympathize with the patricians. The plebeians of the days in which he lived were not the fair representatives of that enterprising class in the early ages of the republic, who were as well born as the patricians, although of different blood; the strength and sinews of the state in its exhausting wars—dependent only upon them from stern necessity, because they were ground down to the dust by poverty, and debt, and oppression, but independently maintaining themselves by their own industry, gradually acquiring wealth, rising to the position of a middle class, winning their way perseveringly, step by step, to political privileges. The lower orders of Rome, in the time of Livy—for the term plebeian, in its original sense, was no longer applicable—were debased and degraded; they cared not for liberty or political power, or self-government; their bosoms throbbed not with sympathy for the old plebeians, who retired to Mount Sacer, and shed their blood for their principles. It was difficult, therefore, for him not to believe that the popular leaders of old times were unprincipled men, who sought to repair their fortunes by the arts of the demagogue. In his eyes resistance to tyranny was treason and rebellion.[973] But when, as in the story of Virginia, his gentler affections were enlisted, Livy’s heart warmed with a generous admiration towards the champions of the people’s rights, and his political predilections gave way to his sensibilities. In treating of history almost contemporaneous, Tacitus confesses his liberality. Although it might have rendered him more acceptable at the court of his patron if he had vilified his political foes, yet even imperial favour, acting on the same side as political prejudice, did not tempt him to unfairness.[974] He could see and acknowledge noble qualities and disinterested patriotism, and give credit for sincere motives, even to those who differed in political opinions.