3. III.
Sixty years after this event, Leovogild ascended the
throne of the Goths. He rolled back the tide of war
upon his enemies, sustained and reinvigorated his drooping
people, and by mixed valour and prudence effectually
restored the confidence and stability of the kingdom.
From his time to that of Witiza, a space of a hundred
years, this prosperity continued, and the Goths were still
powerful by sea and land. The reign of Witiza at the
outset promised a like increase of glory with that of his
predecessors. Brave and equitable at first, he gave to
the choice of the people the fullest sanction, while maintaining
for a long period the same elevated character.
Justice and moderation, so far, marked the progress of
his rule; and the best evidence, perhaps, of the correctness
of history in its estimate of his virtues, may be
gathered from the fact that, for the first time in a long
series of years, a liberal and independent spirit began to
prevail throughout the nation, adorning, with a show of
moral beauty, that name which was soon to be blotted
out for ever. Powerful and seemingly united at home,
feared, or at least respected, among the neighbouring
nations, the empire of the Goths, at this time, was not
unworthy of the high-flown pretension with which it
claimed and challenged a comparison with Rome. Almost
arrogant in its boldness, we may yet estimate
highly its firm resolve and elevated character, when,
under the sway of the present monarch, we find the
National Council of Toledo firmly and successfully resisting
the demand then urged by the Pope, as successor
to St. Peter, of absolute dominion in and over the
Christian states of Europe. Such was the nation then;
but, in one sense, the evidence of character is defective.
The nation was never nigher than at that moment,
to its overthrow. The independence and improved
mental character of the people were the deadliest foes
possessed by the existing government. Their affections
were not with their rulers—there was no community
of feeling between them. A new truth had gotten
abroad among men. Veneration, the bearded despot,
was tottering upon his ancient towers. Implicit obedience
had given way to doubt—doubt had brought inquiry
into exercise, and the scales of superstition and a
blind obedience had fallen, in consequence, from a
thousand eyes. Once seeing, it saw all—it never slept
again. The very power which had bidden defiance to the
chains of Rome was of itself fatal to the old tyrannies
which had made a serf of the subject, and degraded the
neck of manhood to a collar. Power was embraced by
change, and the issue was revolution.
