on one side, were the silenced Teutons; beyond the Euphrates on
the other, the hazardous Parthians, while remotely to the north
there extended the enigmas of barbarism; to the south, those semi-
fabulous regions where geography ceased to be.

Little by little, through the patience of a people that felt
itself eternal, this immensity had been assimilated and fused. A
few fortresses and legions on the frontiers, a stretch of soldiery
at any spot an invasion might be feared; a little tact, a maternal
solicitude, and that was all. Rome governed unarmed, or perhaps it
might be more exact to say she did not govern at all; she was the
mistress of a federation of realms and republics that governed
themselves, in whose government she was content, and from whom she
exacted little, tribute merely, and obeisance to herself. Her
strength was not in the sword; the lioness roared rarely, often
slept; it was the fear smaller beasts had of her awakening that
made them docile; once aroused those indolent paws could do
terrible work, and it was well not to excite them. When the Jews
threatened to revolt, Agrippa warned them: "Look at Rome; look at
her well; her arms are invisible, her troops are afar; she rules,
not by them, but by the certainty of her power. If you rebel, the
invisible sword will flash, and what can you do against Rome
armed, when Rome unarmed frightens the world?"

The argument was pertinent and suggestive, but the secret of
Rome's ascendency consisted in the fact that where she conquered
she dwelt. Wherever the eagles pounced, Rome multiplied herself in
miniature. In the army was the nation, in the legion the city.
Where it camped, presto! a judgment seat and an altar. On the
morrow there was a forum; in a week there were paved avenues; in a