It is not difficult to account for this ignorance of the Romans during the first ages of their history. Rome was not, as has been asserted by Dionysius, a regular colony sent out from a well-regulated state, but was formed from a mixture of all kinds of people unacquainted with social life. It consisted of Romulus’ own troop, and a confluence of banditti inured to lawless acts, and subsisting by rapine, who were called from their fastnesses by the proclamation of a bold, cunning, and hardy adventurer(67). This desperate band would not be much softened or humanized by their union with the tribe of Sabines, who, in the time of Romulus, became incorporated with the state, if we may judge of Sabine civilization from the story of Tarpeia. Numa did much for the domestic melioration of his people: He subdivided them into classes, impressed their minds with reverence for religion, and encouraged agriculture; but there was no germ of literature which he could foster. For more than three centuries after his death, the persevering hostilities of neighbouring states, and the furious irruptions of the Gauls, scarcely allowed a moment of repose or tranquillity. The safety of Rome depended on its military preparations, and every citizen necessarily became a soldier. Learning and arts may flourish amid the wars and commotions of a mighty empire, because every individual is not essentially or actively involved in the struggle; but in a petty state, surrounded by foes, all are in some shape or other personally engaged in the conflict, and the result, perhaps, is viewed with intenser interest. The enemies of Rome were repeatedly at her gates, and once within her walls; and while the city thus resounded with martial alarms, literary leisure could neither be enjoyed nor accounted among the ingredients— “Vitam quæ faciunt beatiorem.”