Delphi Complete Works of Procopius

by Procopius of Caesarea

  XXXV

  Now there is a mountain called Vesuvius in Campania, which I have mentioned in the previous narrative, remarking that it often gives forth a sound like bellowing. And whenever this occurs, the mountain also belches forth a great quantity of hot ashes. So much was said at that point in my narrative. Now the centre of this mountain, just as is the case with Aetna in Sicily, is a natural cavity extending from its base to its peak, and it is at the bottom of this cavity that the fire burns continually. And to such a depth does this cavity descend that, when a man stands on the summit of the mountain and dares to look over the edge from there, the flames are not easily visible. And whenever it comes about that this mountain belches forth the ashes, as stated above, the flames also tear out rocks from the bottom of Vesuvius and hurl them into the air above the summit of this mountain, some of them small, but some exceedingly large, and thus shooting them forth from there it scatters them wherever they chance to fall. And a stream of fire also flows from the peak extending from the summit to the very base of the mountain and even further, resembling in all respects the phenomenon which is observed at Mt. Aetna. And the stream of fire forms high banks on either side in cutting out its bed. Now as the flame is carried along in the channel it at first resembles a flow of burning water; but as soon as the flame is quenched, the course of the stream is checked immediately and the flow proceeds no further, and the sediment of this fire appears as mud resembling ashes.

  At the very base of this Mt. Vesuvius there are springs of water fit to drink, and a river named Dracon proceeds from them which passes very near the city of Nuceria. And it was at this river that the two armies then made camp, one on one side and the other on the other. Now while this Dracon is a small stream, it still cannot be crossed either by horsemen or infantry, because, as it flow’s in a narrow-channel and cuts into the earth to a great depth, it makes the banks on both sides overhanging as it were. But whether the cause is to be found in the nature of the soil or of the water, I cannot decide. Now the Goths had seized the bridge over the river, since they had encamped very near it, and placing wooden towers upon it they had mounted various engines in them, among them those called ballistae, in order that they might be able to shoot from the tower down upon the heads of such of their enemy as harassed them. It was consequently impossible for a hand-to-hand engagement to take place, since the river, as I have said, lay between; but both armies came as close as possible along the banks of the stream, and for the most part used only bows against each other. Some single encounters also took place, when some Goth on occasion, in answer to a challenge, crossed the bridge. And two months’ time was spent by the armies in this way. Now as long as the Goths controlled that part of the sea, they maintained themselves by bringing in provisions by ship, since they were encamped not far from the shore. But later on the Romans captured the enemy’s boats by an act of treason on the part of a Goth who was in charge of all their shipping; and at the same time innumerable ships came to them both from Sicily and from the rest of the empire. At the same time Narses also set up wooden towers on the bank of the river, and thus succeeded completely in humbling the spirit of his opponents.

  The Goths then, becoming alarmed because of these things and being at the same time hard pressed by want of provisions, took refuge on a mountain which is near by, called by the Romans in the Latin tongue “Milk Mountain”; here the Romans were quite unable to follow them because the rough terrain made it impossible. But the barbarians immediately repented having gone up there, because they began to be still more in need of provisions, having no means of providing them for themselves and their horses. Thinking, consequently, that death in battle was preferable to that by starvation, they unexpectedly moved out to engage their enemy, falling upon them suddenly and without warning. But the Romans, to ward them off as well as circumstances permitted, took their stand, not arranging themselves by commanders or by companies or by cohorts, nor distinguished in any other manner from one another, and not so as to hear the commands given them in battle, but still, determined to put forth all their strength against the enemy wherever they should chance to stand. Now the Goths were the first to abandon their horses and all took their stand on foot, facing their enemy in a deep phalanx, and then the Romans too, observing this, let their horses go, and all arrayed themselves in the same manner.

  Here shall be described a battle of great note and the heroism of one man inferior, I think, to that of none of the heroes of legend, that, namely, which Teïas displayed in the present battle. The Goths, on the one hand, were driven to be courageous by despair of the situation, while the Romans, on the other hand, though they could see that the enemy had become desperate, withstood them with all their strength, blushing to give way to a weaker force; thus from both sides they charged their nearest opponents with great fury, the one army courting death and the other desiring to make a display of valour. Now the battle began early in the morning, and Teïas, easily recognized by all, stood with only a few followers at the head of the phalanx, holding his shield before him and thrusting forward his spear. And when the Romans saw him, thinking that, if he himself should fall, the battle would be instantly decided in their favour, all those who laid claim to valour concentrated on him — and there was a great number of them — and they all directed their spears at him, some thrusting and others hurling them. He himself meanwhile, covered by his shield, received all their spears in it, and by sudden charges he slew a large number. And whenever he saw that his shield was filled with spears fixed in it, he would hand this over to one of his guards and take another for himself. And he continued fighting in this manner for the third part of the day, and at the end of that time his shield had twelve spears stuck in it and he was no longer able to move it where he wished and repel his assailants. So he eagerly called one of his bodyguards without leaving his post so much as a finger’s breadth nor giving ground nor allowing the enemy to advance, nor even turning round and covering his back with his shield, nor, in fact, did he even turn sidewise, but as if fastened to the ground he stood there, shield in hand, killing with his right hand and parrying with his left and calling out the name of the bodyguard. And the guard was now at his side with the shield, and Teïas immediately sought to take this in exchange for the one weighed down with spears. But while he was doing so his chest became exposed for a brief instant of time, and it chanced that at that moment he was hit by a javelin and died instantly from the wound. Then some of the Romans raised his head aloft on a pole and went about shewing it to both armies, to the Romans in order that they might be encouraged, and to the Goths in order that they might in despair make an end of the war.

  But not even then did the Goths abandon the struggle, but they kept fighting till night, although well aware that their king was dead. But when it began to grow dark, the two armies separated and passed the night on the battle-field in their equipment. And on the following day they arose at dawn, and arraying themselves again in the same manner they fought till nightfall, neither army retreating before the other nor being routed nor even giving ground, though large numbers were being slain on both sides, but they kept at it with the fury of wild beasts by reason of their bitter hatred of each other, the Goths, on the one hand, knowing well that they were fighting their last battle, and the Romans, on the other, refusing to be worsted by them. But finally the barbarians sent to Narses some of their notables, saying that they had learned that the struggle they had taken up was against God; for they recognized, they said, the power that was arrayed against them, and, since they were coming to realize by what had happened the truth of the matter, they were desirous from now to acknowledge defeat and give up the struggle, not, however, to obey the emperor, but to live in independence with some of the other barbarians; and they begged that the Romans concede to them a peaceful withdrawal, not begrudging them a reasonable settlement, but presenting them, in fact, with their own money as travelling funds, that money, namely, which each of them had previously deposited in the fortress
es of Italy. These proposals Narses took under consideration. Now John the nephew of Vitalian advised that they should allow this request and not carry on battle further with men who courted death nor expose themselves to those whose daring was sprung from despair of life, an attitude which proves dangerous not only for those possessed by it, but also for their opponents. “For victory,” he said, “is sufficient for the wise, but extravagant desires might perhaps turn out even to a man’s disadvantage.”

  Narses followed this suggestion, and they came to terms, agreeing that the remainder of the barbarians, after receiving their own money, should depart immediately from all Italy and that they should no longer wage war in any way against the Romans. Now a thousand Goths, in the midst of the negotiations, detached themselves from the main body, and under command of different men, among whom was the Indulf whom I have mentioned before, proceeded to the city of Ticinum and the country beyond the Po. But all the rest gave sworn pledges and confirmed all the details of the agreement. Thus the Romans captured Cumae and all that remained, and the eighteenth year, as it closed, brought the end of this Gothic War, the history of which Procopius has written.

  Secret History

  I

  Ὅσα μὲν οὖν Ῥωμαίων τῷ γένει ἐν τοῖς πολέμοις ἄχρι δεῦρο ξυνηνέχθη γενέσθαι, τῇδέ μοι δεδιήγηται, ᾗπερ δυνατὸν ἐγεγόνει τῶν πράξεων τὰς δηλώσεις ἁπάσας ἐπὶ καιρῶν τε καὶ χωρίων τῶν ἐπιτηδείων ἁρμοσαμένῳ: τὰ δὲ ἐνθένδε οὐκέτι μοι τρόπῳ τῷ εἰρημένῳ ξυγκείσεται, ἐπεὶ ἐνταῦθα γεγράψεται πάντα, ὁπόσα δὴ τετύχηκε γενέσθαι πανταχόθι τῆς Ῥωμαίων ἀρχῆς.

  [1] All that has befallen the Roman Nation in its wars up to the present day has been narrated by me, as far as it proved possible, on the plan of arranging all the accounts of its activities in accordance with their proper time and place. Henceforth, however, this plan of composition will be followed by me no longer, for here shall be set down everything that came to pass in every part of the Roman Empire.

  [2] αἴτιον δὲ, ὅτι δὴ οὐχ οἷόν τε ἦν περιόντων ἔτι τῶν αὐτὰ εἰργασμένων ὅτῳ δεῖ ἀναγράφεσθαι τρόπῳ. οὔτε γὰρ διαλαθεῖν πλήθη κατασκόπων οἷόν τε ἦν οὔτε φωραθέντα μὴ ἀπολωλέναι θανάτῳ οἰκτίστῳ: οὐδὲ γὰρ ἐπὶ τῶν συγγενῶν τοῖς γε οἰκειοτάτοις τὸ θαρρεῖν εἶχον.

  [2] The reason for this is that it was not possible, as long as the actors were still alive, for these things to be recorded in the way they should have been. For neither was it possible to elude the vigilance of multitudes of spies, nor, if detected, to escape a most cruel death. Indeed, I was unable to feel confidence even in the most intimate of my kinsmen.

  [3] ἀλλὰ καὶ πολλῶν τῶν ἐν τοῖς ἔμπροσθεν λόγοις εἰρημένων ἀποκρύψασθαι τὰς αἰτίας ἠναγκάσθην. τὰ τό τε δ̓ οὖν τέως ἄρρητα μείναντα καὶ τῶν ἔμπροσθεν δεδηλωμένων ἐνταῦθά μοι τοῦ λόγου τὰς αἰτίας σημῆναι δεήσει.

  [3] Nay, more, in the case of many of the events described in the previous narrative I was compelled to conceal the causes which led up to them. It will therefore be necessary for me in this book to disclose, not only those things which have hitherto remained undivulged, but also the causes of those occurrences which have already been described.

  [4] Ἀλλά μοι ἐς ἀγώνισιν ἑτέραν ἰόντι χαλεπήν τινα καὶ δεινῶς ἄμαχον τῶν Ἰουστινιανῷ τε καὶ Θεοδώρᾳ βεβιωμένων βαμβαίνειν τε καὶ ἀναποδίζειν ἐπὶ πλεῖστον ἐκεῖνο διαριθμουμένῳ ξυμβαίνει, ὅτι δή μοι ταῦτα ἐν τῷ παρόντι γεγράψεται τὰ μήτε πιστὰ μήτε εἰκότα φανησόμενα τοῖς ὄπισθεν γενησομένοις, ἄλλως τε ὁπηνίκα ἐπὶ μέγα ῥεύσας ὁ χρόνος παλαιοτέραν τὴν ἀκοὴν ἀπεργάζεται, δέδοικα μὴ καὶ μυθολογίας ἀποίσομαι δόξαν κἀν τοῖς τραγῳδοδιδασκάλοις τετάξομαι.

  [4] As I turn, however, to a new endeavour which is fraught with difficulty and is in fact extraordinarily hard to cope with, being concerned, as it is, with the lives lived by Justinian and Theodora, I find myself stammering and shrinking as far from it as possible, as I weigh the chances that such things are now to be written by me as will seem neither credible nor probable to men of a later generation; and especially when the mighty stream of time renders the story somewhat ancient, I fear lest I shall earn the reputation of being even a narrator of myths and shall be ranked among the tragic poets.

  [5] ἐκείνῳ μέντοι τὸ θαρρεῖν ἔχων οὐκ ἀποδειλιάσω τὸν ὄγκον τοῦ ἔργου, ὥς μοι οὐκ ἀμαρτύρητος ὁ λόγος ἐστίν. οἱ γὰρ νῦν ἄνθρωποι δαημονέστατοι μάρτυρες τῶν πράξεων ὄντες ἀξιόχρεῳ παραπομποὶ ἐς τὸν ἔπειτα χρόνον τῆς ὑπὲρ αὐτῶν πίστεως ἔσονται.

  [5] But I shall not flinch from the immensity of my task, basing my confidence on the fact that my account will not be without the support of witnesses. For the men of the present day, being witnesses possessing full knowledge of the events in question, will be competent guarantors to pass on to future ages their brief in my good faith in dealing with the facts.

  [6] Καίτοι με καὶ ἄλλο τι ἐς λόγον τόνδε ὀργῶντα πολλάκις ἐπὶ πλεῖστον ἀνεχαίτισε χρόνον. ἐδόξαζον γὰρ τοῖς ἐς τὸ ἔπειτα γενησομένοις ἀξύμφορον ἔσεσθαι τοῦτό γε, ἐπεὶ τῶν ἔργων τὰ πονηρότατα μάλιστα ξυνοίσει ἄγνωστα χρόνῳ τῷ ὑστέρῳ εἶναι, ἢ τοῖς τυράννοις ἐς ἀκοὴν ἥκοντα ζηλωτὰ γίνεσθαι.

  [6] And yet there was still another consideration which very often, when I was eager to undertake my narrative, held me back for a very long time. For I conceived the opinion that for men of future generations such a record as this would be inexpedient, since it will be most advantageous that the blackest deeds shall if possible be unknown to later times, rather than that, coming to the ears of sovereigns, they should be imitated by them.