The Comic History of Rome
by Gilbert Abbott À Beckett · English · Gutenberg #37657 · 843,908 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: The Comic History of Rome
Author: Gilbert Abbott À Beckett
Illustrator: John Leech
Release date: October 7, 2011 [eBook #37657]
Language: English
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Credits: Produced by Margo Romberg, crana and the Online Distributed
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Produced by Margo Romberg, crana and the Online Distributed
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produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
THE
COMIC HISTORY OF ROME,
FROM THE FOUNDING OF THE CITY TO THE END OF
THE COMMONWEALTH.
[Illustration: _Romulus and Remus discovered by a gentle shepherd._]
[Illustration]
THE
COMIC
HISTORY
OF
ROME
BY GILBERT ABBOTT À BECKET.
ILLUSTRATED BY JOHN LEECH.
BRADBURY AND EVANS, 11, BOUVERIE STREET.
LONDON:
BRADBURY AND EVANS, PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.
PREFACE
Some explanation is perhaps due from a writer who adopts the title of
Comic in relation to a subject which is ordinarily considered to be so
essentially grave as that of History. Though the epithet may be thought
by many inappropriate to the theme, this work has been prompted by a
very serious desire to instruct those who, though willing to acquire
information, seek in doing so as much amusement as possible.
It is true that professedly Comic literature has been the subject of a
familiarity not unmixed with contempt on the part of a portion of the
public, since that class of writing obtained the popularity which has
especially attended it within the last few years; but as whatever
disrepute it has fallen into is owing entirely to its abuse, there is no
reason for abandoning an attempt to make a right use of it. The title of
Comic has therefore been retained in reference to this work, though the
author has felt that its purport is likely to be misconceived by many,
and among them not a few whose judgment he would highly esteem, who
would turn away from a Comic History solely on account of its name, and
without giving themselves the trouble to look into it. Those persons
are, however, grievously mistaken who have imagined that in this, and in
similar books from the same pen, the object has been to treat History as
a mere farce, or to laugh at Truth--the aim of the writer having
invariably been to expose falsehood, and to bring into merited contempt
all that has been injudiciously, ignorantly, or dishonestly held up to
general admiration. His method of telling a story may be objected to;
nevertheless, if he does his utmost to tell it truly, he ought not,
perhaps, to be very severely criticised for adopting the style in which
he feels himself most at home; and if his opinions are found to be, in
the main, such as just and sensible persons can agree with, he only asks
that his views and sentiments may be estimated by what they contain, and
not by any peculiarity in his mode of expressing them.
The writer of this book is animated by an earnest wish to aid, as far as
he is able, in the project of combining instruction with amusement; and
he trusts he shall not be blamed for endeavouring to render such ability
as he possesses available for as much as it is worth, in applying it to
subjects of useful information.
Those who are not disposed to approve of his design, will perhaps give
him credit for his motive; and he may with confidence assert, that, from
the care and attention he has bestowed upon this work, it will be found
to form (irrespective of its claims to amuse) by no means the least
compendious and correct of the histories already in existence of Rome to
the end of the Commonwealth. If he has failed in justifying the
application of the title of Comic to his work, he has reason to believe
it will be found accurate. Though the style professes to be light, he
would submit that truth does not necessarily make more impression by
being conveyed through a heavy medium; and although facts may be
playfully told, it is hoped that narrative in sport may be found to
constitute history in earnest.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
CHAP. I.--FROM THE FOUNDATION OF ROME TO THE DEATH OF ROMULUS 1
II.--FROM THE ACCESSION OF NUMA POMPILIUS TO THE DEATH OF
ANCUS MARTIUS 14
III.--FROM THE ACCESSION OF TARQUINIUS PRISCUS TO THE DEATH
OF SERVIUS TULLIUS 23
IV.--FROM THE ACCESSION OF TARQUINIUS SUPERBUS TO THE
BANISHMENT OF THE ROYAL FAMILY, AND THE ABOLITION OF
THE KINGLY DIGNITY 33
V.--FROM THE BANISHMENT OF TARQUINIUS SUPERBUS TO THE
BATTLE OF LAKE REGILLUS 43
VI.--FROM THE BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS TO THE CLOSE OF
THE WAR WITH THE VOLSCIANS 56
VII.--FROM THE CLOSE OF THE WAR WITH THE VOLSCIANS TO THE
PASSING OF THE BILL OF TERENTILLUS 65
VIII.--FROM THE ESTABLISHMENT OF THE DECEMVIRATE TO THE
TAKING OF VEII 73
IX.--FROM THE TAKING OF ROME BY THE GAULS TO ITS SUBSEQUENT
PRESERVATION BY MANLIUS 89
X.--FROM THE TRIBUNESHIP OF C. LICINIUS TO THE DEFEAT OF
THE GAULS BY VALERIUS 97
XI.--FROM THE FIRST WAR AGAINST THE SAMNITES TO THE PASSING
OF THE LAWS OF PUBLILIUS 107
XII.--FROM THE BEGINNING OF THE SECOND TO THE END OF THE
THIRD SAMNITE WAR 116
XIII.--ON THE PEACEFUL OCCUPATIONS OF THE ROMANS. FROM THE
SCARCITY OF SUBJECT, NECESSARILY A VERY SHORT CHAPTER 129
XIV.--FROM THE END OF THE THIRD SAMNITE WAR TO THE
SUBJUGATION OF ALL ITALY BY THE ROMANS 135
XV.--THE FIRST PUNIC WAR 150
XVI.--SOME MISCELLANEOUS WARS OF ROME 161
XVII.--THE SECOND PUNIC WAR 171
XVIII.--CONCLUSION OF THE SECOND PUNIC WAR 183
XIX.--WAR WITH THE MACEDONIANS. PROCLAMATION OF THE FREEDOM
OF GREECE BY FLAMINIUS. WAR WITH ANTIOCHUS. DEATH OF
HANNIBAL, AND OF SCIPIO AFRICANUS 193
XX.--PUBLIC AMUSEMENTS. MORALS, MANNERS, CUSTOMS, AND STATE
OF THE DRAMA AND LITERATURE AMONG THE ROMANS 204
XXI.--WARS AGAINST PERSEUS. THE THIRD PUNIC WAR. SIEGE AND
DESTRUCTION OF CARTHAGE, AND DITTO DITTO OF CORINTH 215
XXII.--WARS IN SPAIN. VIRIATHUS. DESTRUCTION OF NUMANTIA.
THE SERVILE WAR IN SICILY. APPROPRIATION OF PERGAMUS 225
XXIII.--THE GRACCHI AND THEIR MOTHER. RISE AND FALL OF
TIBERIUS AND CAIUS GRACCHUS 234
XXIV.--THE JUGURTHINE WAR. WAR AGAINST THE CIMBRI AND TEUTONI 247
XXV.--MITHRIDATES, SULLA, MARIUS, CINNA, ET CÆTERA 257
XXVI.--DEATH OF CINNA. RETURN OF SULLA TO ROME. C. PAPIRIUS
CARBO. DICTATORSHIP OF SULLA 267
XXVII.--REACTION AGAINST THE POLICY OF SULLA. SERVICES OF
Q. SERTORIUS. METELLUS. CN. POMPEY. SPIRITED STEPS
OF SPARTACUS. THE IRATE PIRATE 275
XXVIII.--THE THIRD MITHRIDATIC WAR. DEPOSITION AND DEATH OF
MITHRIDATES 284
XXIX.--CONSPIRACY OF CATILINE. INTRODUCTION OF CICERO.
CÆSAR, POMPEY, CRASSUS, AND CO. 289
XXX.--OVERTHROW OF CRASSUS. DEFEAT OF POMPEY. DICTATORSHIP
AND DEATH OF CÆSAR. END OF THE ROMAN REPUBLIC 299
ENGRAVINGS ON STEEL.
PAGE
1. ROMULUS AND REMUS DISCOVERED BY A GENTLE SHEPHERD i
2. TARQUINIUS SUPERBUS MAKES HIMSELF KING 33
3. APPIUS CLAUDIUS PUNISHED BY THE PEOPLE 80
4. THE GALLANT CURTIUS LEAPING INTO THE GULF 104
5. PYRRHUS ARRIVES IN ITALY WITH HIS TROUPE 138
6. HANNIBAL, WHILST EVEN YET A CHILD, SWEARS ETERNAL HATRED
TO THE ROMANS 168
7. FLAMINIUS RESTORING LIBERTY TO GREECE AT THE ISTHMIAN GAMES 195
8. THE MOTHER OF THE GRACCHI 234
9. MARIUS DISCOVERED IN THE MARSHES AT MINTURNÆ 261
10. CICERO DENOUNCING CATILINE 292
ENGRAVINGS ON WOOD.
PAGE
Initial T.--Æneas and Anchises 1
Rhea Silvia 4
Romulus Consulting the Augury 6
Remus jumping over the Walls 7
Awful Appearance of the Shade of Remus to Romulus 8
The Romans walking off with the Sabine Women 10
Initial R 14
Numa Pompilius remembering the Grotto 15
Death of Cluilius 17
Combat between the Horatii and Curiatii 19
Initial 23
Celeres 24
Debtor and Creditor. Seizure of Goods for a Debt 28
Initial T 33
Tarquinius Superbus has the Sibylline Books valued 35
The Evil Conscience of Tarquin 37
Mrs. Sextus consoles herself with a Little Party 39
Tail-piece 42
Initial B 43
Aruns and Brutus 45
Horatius Cocles Defending the Bridge 49
Mucius Scævola before Porsenna 51
Clælia and her Companions escaping from the Etruscan Camp 52
Initial T 56
Coriolanus parting from his Wife and Family 63
Initial A 65
A Lictor is sent to arrest Publilius Volero 68
Cincinnatus chosen Dictator 70
Roman Bull and Priest of the Period 73
Virginia carried off by a Minion in the pay of Appius 78
In the foreground of the Tableau may be observed a Patrician
looking very black at the Triumph of the General 83
In all probability something of this sort 84
School-boys flogging the Schoolmaster 88
Initial A.--A Gaul 89
The Citadel saved by the cackling of the Geese 93
Initial R.--Roman Soldier 97
Miss Fabia, the Younger, astonished at the Patrician's
Double-knock 98
Titus threatening Pomponius 103
Terrific Combat between Titus Manlius and a Gaul of gigantic
Stature 105
Initial T 107
A Scare-crow 109
Metius aggravating Titus Manlius 111
The Romans clothed by the Inhabitants
of Capua 119
Samnite Soldier 126
Initial I.--Æsculapius 129
The Ambassadors purchasing Æsculapius 133
Tail-piece 134
Initial R 135
Appearance in the Senate of a young Nobleman, named Meto 139
Self-possession of Fabricius, the Ambassador, under rather
Trying Circumstances 142
Discovery of the Head of Summanus 145
Curius Dentatus refusing the Magnificent Gift offered by the
Samnite Ambassadors 146
Initial A 150
Roman Man-of-War, from a scarce Medal 153
Initial P 161
Hanno announcing to the Mercenaries the Emptiness of the
Public Coffers 162
Early Roman Gladiator and his Patron 165
His Excellency Q. Fabius offering Peace or War to the
Carthaginian Senate 169
Hannibal crossing the Alps 173
Hannibal disguising himself 176
The "Slow Coach" 179
Young Varro 180
Archimedes taking a Warm Bath 186
Considerate Conduct of Scipio Africanus 188
Initial W 193
Hannibal leads the Ambassadors rather a fatiguing Walk round
Carthage 197
Hannibal requesting the Cretan Priests to become his Bankers 200
Hannibal makes the usual neat and appropriate Speech previous
to killing himself 201
Initial I 204
Roman Lady "Shopping" 205
Terence reading his Play to Cæcilius 210
Light Comedy Man of the Period 212
Bacchanalian Group, from a very old Vase 223
Assassination of Viriathus 226
Arrest of Eunus 231
Tib. Gracchus canvassing 238
Melancholy end of Tib. Gracchus 239
Scipio Æmilianus cramming himself for a Speech after a hearty
Supper 240
Rash Act of Caius Gracchus 244
Tail-piece 246
Drusus is Stabbed, and Expires gracefully 254
Initial F 257
"Who dares kill Marius?" 261
Marius in the Ruins of Carthage 263
Marius in his Old Age 266
Funeral Pile of Sulla 274
Initial T--Cæsar and Pompey very much alike, especially Pompey 275
Sertorius and his young Friends 278
Armed Slave 280
Spartacus 281
Mithridates, his rash act 286
Mithridates 287
Initial A--Libertas, Æqualitas, Fraternitas 289
Fulvia 291
Cicero throws up his Brief, like a Gentleman 296
Initial C 299
"Quid times? Cæsarem vehis." 301
The End of Julius Cæsar 308
THE COMIC HISTORY OF ROME.
CHAPTER THE FIRST.
FROM THE FOUNDATION OF ROME TO THE DEATH OF ROMULUS.
[Illustration: Æneas and Anchises.]
The origin of the Romans has long been lost in that impenetrable fog,
the mist of ages; which, it is to be feared, will never clear off, for
it unfortunately seems to grow thicker the more boldly we try to grope
about in it. In the midst of these fogs, some energetic individual will
now and then appear with a pretty powerful link, but there are not
enough of these links to form a connected chain of incidents.
One of the oldest and most popular traditions concerning the origin of
the Romans, is that founded on the remarkable feat of filial pick-a-back
alleged to have been performed by Æneas, who is frequently dragged in
head and shoulders, with his venerable parent, to lead off the march of
events, and, as it were, open the ball of history.
It is said that after[1] the siege of Troy, Æneas snatched up his Lares
and Penates in one hand, and his father, Anchises, in the other; when,
flinging the former over the right shoulder, and the latter over the
left, he ran down to the sea-shore, called "A boat a-hoy," and escaped
from the jaws of destruction into the mouth of the Tiber. There are many
reasons for disbelieving this story, and it is quite enough to deprive
it of weight to consider what must have been the weight of Anchises
himself, and the large bundle of household images that Æneas is alleged
to have been burdened with. Putting probability in one scale, and an
elderly gentleman, with a lot of Lares and a parcel of Penates in the
other, there can be no doubt which will preponderate. It happens, also,
that Troy is usually said to have been destroyed 430 years before Rome
was founded,[2] so that it would have been to this day as unfounded as
the tale itself, if the city had had no other foundation than that which
Æneas was supposed to have given it.
The Latin Bards have adorned this story in their own peculiar way, by
adding that Æneas, on his arrival in the Tiber, resolved to sacrifice a
milk white sow, in gratitude for his safety. The sow, who must have been
an ancestor of the learned pig, got scent of her fate, and running two
or three miles up the country, produced a sad litter of thirty little
ones; when Æneas, fancying he heard a voice telling him to build a town
on the spot, determined, "please the pigs," to found a city there. The
classical story-teller goes on to say, that Latinus, king of the Latins,
happened to be at war with Turnus--or as we might call him Turner--King
of the Rutuli, when the Trojans arrived, and the former, thinking it
better worth his while to make friends than foes of the immigrants, gave
them a tract of land, which rendered them extremely tractable. On the
principle that one good turn deserves another, they turned round upon
Turnus, and completely routed the Rutuli. Latinus, to show his
gratitude, gave Lavinia--not the "lovely young" one, who Thomson tells
us, "once had friends;" but his own daughter of that name--in marriage
to Æneas, who at the death of his father-in-law, ruled over the city,
and called his colony Lavinium. Tradition tells us further that Æneas
had a son, Ascanius, sometimes called Parvus Iulus, or little Juli, who
subsequently left Lavinium, and built Alba Longa--a sort of classical
long acre--in that desirable neighbourhood known as the Alban Mount,
which, from its becoming subsequently the most fashionable part of the
city, may deserve the name of the Roman Albany.
The descendants of Ascanius are said to have reigned 300 years, and an
attempt has been made to fill up the gap of these three centuries with a
quantity of dry rubbish of the antiquarian kind, which occupies space,
without affording anything like a solid foundation for the structure to
be built upon it. Of such a nature is the catalogue of matters alleged
to have connected Æneas with the actual founders of Rome; but though
names and dates are given, there is little doubt that the value of
names is not even nominal, and that if we trust the dates, we shall
rely on the falsest data.
The spirit of antiquarianism is as ancient as the subjects on which it
employs its ingenuity, and the Romans began puzzling themselves at a
very early period about their own origin. A long course of fabrication
ended in rearing up a legendary fabric, which was acknowledged by all
the Roman bards; and however much they may have doubted the truth of the
tale, they deserve some credit for the consistency with which they have
adhered to it.
The legend states that one Procas, belonging to the family of the
Silvii, or Silvers, had two sons,--the elder, to whom the kingdom was
left, being called Numitor, and the younger going by the name of
Amulius. Though Numitor was the bigger brother, he does not seem to have
been, pugilistically speaking, the better man, for he was deprived of
the kingdom by Amulius, who, to prevent the chances of the law of
primogeniture again taking effect, by placing any of Numitor's
descendants on the throne, caused Rhea Silvia, the only daughter of that
individual to become a virgin in the Temple of Vesta. The Vestals were,
in fact, the old original nuns, withdrawing themselves from the world,
and entering into a solemn vow against marriage during thirty years;
after which period they were free to wed, though they were scarcely ever
invited to avail themselves of their rather tardy privilege. The senior
sister went by the highly respectable name of Virgo Maxima--or old maid
in chief--and was doubtless something more than ordinary in her
appearance, as well as in her position. The Vestals were required to be
plain in their dress, and in order to extend this plainness as far as
possible to their looks, their hair was cut very short, however much
they may have been distressed at parting with their tresses. Their chief
duty consisted in keeping up the fire on the altar of Vesta, and they
were prohibited on pain of death from giving to any other flame the
smallest encouragement. In the event of such an offence having been
committed by an unfortunate Vestal, who found her position little better
than being buried alive, she was made to undergo literally that awful
penalty.
Though the duties of the Vestals were rigidly enforced, and the letting
out of the sacred fire was, in some cases, punished by the extinction of
the delinquent's vital spark, they enjoyed some peculiar advantages.
Though their acts were under strict control, they were, in one sense,
allowed a will of their own; for they were permitted, even when under
age, to make their own testaments. They occupied reserved seats at
public entertainments; and if they happened to meet a criminal in
custody, they had the privilege of releasing him from the hands of the
police of the period. Notwithstanding these inducements, the office of
Vestal was not in much request; and, in the event of a vacancy, it was
awarded by lot to some young lady, whose dissatisfaction with her lot
was usually very visible. Such is a brief outline of the duties and
liabilities of the order into which Amulius forced his niece, and it
has been the subject of complaint in more recent times that Rome still
occasionally does as Rome used to do. We will now return to Rhea Silvia,
who appears to have entered the service of the goddess as a
maid-of-all-work; for she was in the habit of going to draw water from a
well; and it was on one of these aquatic excursions she met with a
military man, passing himself off as Mars who paid his addresses to her,
and proved irresistible.
[Illustration: Rhea Silvia.]
Rhea Silvia gave birth to twins; upon which her cruel uncle ordered her
to be put to death, and desired that her infant offspring should be
treated as a couple of unwelcome puppies, and got rid of by drowning in
the ordinary manner.
The children were placed in a cradle, or, as some say, a bowl, and
turned adrift on the river; so that Amulius, if he had any misgiving as
to the security of his crown, preferred to drown it in the bowl with his
unhappy little relatives.
It happened that there had been such a run on the banks of the Tiber,
that its coffers or coffer-dams had poured out their contents all over
the adjacent plains, and caused a very extensive distribution of its
currency. Among other valuable deposits, it chanced to lodge for
security, in a branch connected with the bank, the children of Rhea
Silvia, who, by the way, must have been very fortunate under the
circumstances, in being able to keep a balance. The infants were not in
a very enviable condition; for there was nobody to board and lodge them,
though the Tiber was still at hand to wash and do for them. The high
tide proved a tide of good fortune to the children, who were floated so
far inland, that when the river receded, they were left high and dry at
the foot of a fig[3] tree, with no one, apparently, to care a fig what
became of them. Under these circumstances a she-wolf, who had gone down
to the Tiber to drink, heard the whimpering of the babies among the
trees, and, her attention being drawn off from the water in the river to
the whine in the wood, she came forward in the most handsome manner in
the capacity of a wet-nurse to give them suck and succour. How this wolf
became possessed of so much of the milk of human kindness, does not
appear, and it is not perhaps worth while to inquire.
The children, it is said, were awakened by receiving a gentle licking
from the tongue of the animal standing _in loco parentis_ over them.
Finding the situation damp, the wolf removed the infants to her den,
where they were visited by a philanthropic woodpecker; who, when they
were hungry, would bring them some tempting grub, or worm, by which the
woodpecker soon wormed itself into the children's confidence. Other
members of the feathered tribe made themselves useful in this novel
nursery, by keeping off the insects; and many a gnat found itself--or
rather lost itself--unexpectedly in the throat of some remorseless
swallow. However well-meaning the animal may have been, the children
could not have profited greatly, if there had been no one ready to take
them from the month; and happily Faustulus, the king's shepherd, who had
watched them as they were being carried to the wolf's cave or loup-hole,
provided them with another loophole to get out of it. Taking advantage
of the wolf's temporary absence from home, the "gentle shepherd,"
resolving to rescue the children, by hook or by crook, removed the babes
to his own hut, and handed them over to his wife Laurentia, as a sort of
supplement to their previously rather extensive family.
Some historians, refusing to believe the story of the Wolf and the
Woodpecker, have endeavoured to reconcile probability with tradition, by
suggesting that the wife of Faustulus had got the name of the Wolf from
the contrast she presented to her lamb-like husband, and that the
supposed woodpecker was simply a hen-pecker, in the person of
Laurentia.
[Illustration: Romulus consulting the Augury.]
[Illustration: Remus jumping over the Walls.]
Romulus and Remus were the names of the two infants, who, as they grew
up, began to take after their foster-mother the wolf, turning out
exceedingly wild lads, with a lupine propensity for worrying the flocks,
and going on altogether in a very brutal manner. Remus was taken up on a
charge of sheep stealing, or something very like it, and brought before
Numitor, his own grandfather, when a recognition took place in a manner
not much in accordance with the ordinary rules of evidence. Romulus had
also been apprised of his relationship by Faustulus, who must have made
a pretty bold guess at a fact he could not have known; and the two lads,
being adopted by Numitor, were sent for their education to Gabii, where
everything was taught that men of rank in those days were expected to
learn, and whence the word Gaby is clearly derivable. Anxious to do
something for the old gentleman, their grandfather, Romulus and Remus
got up a demonstration in his favour, and they succeeded in restoring
him to the throne of Alba Longa, a long row of white houses, which was
less of a territory than a Terrace, and it is a strange coincidence that
Terracina, or little Terrace, formed one end of it. Amulius was killed,
and leaving Numitor sole master of White's Row, Romulus and Remus
resolved on a building speculation a great deal higher up--that is to
say on the spot where they had passed the days of their infancy. Before
the new city was commenced, a dispute arose, first, about what it
should be called, and secondly, as to who should govern it. Romulus and
Remus, being twins, could not bring the law of primogeniture to bear
upon their little differences, and it was therefore agreed to refer the
matter to augury, which should decide who was to be inaugurated as the
ruler of the new colony. Romulus mounted the Palatine Mount, and Remus
took his station on the Aventine, when both began to keep a very sharp
look out for something ominous. Remus was the first to remark something
odd in the shape of six vultures flying from north to south, but Romulus
no sooner heard the news than he declared he had seen twelve, and the
question arose whether, figuratively speaking, the one bird in hand seen
by Remus should outweigh the two in the bush that subsequently appeared
to Romulus. The augur, when appealed to, gave, as usual, a very
ambiguous answer. It amounted, in effect, to the observation that there
were six of one and a dozen of the other; so that the soothsayer,
instead of having said anything to soothe, was far more likely to
irritate. Both parties claimed the victory; Remus contending for the
precedence usually granted to the early bird, and Romulus maintaining
that he had been specially favoured, by having been permitted to see so
many birds of a feather flock together. Romulus accordingly commenced
drawing his plans in the Etruscan fashion, by causing a boundary line to
be marked out with a plough, to which were yoked a heifer and a bull, a
ceremony from which, perhaps, the English term bulwarks, and the French
word boulevards or bulvards, may or may not be derivable. The line thus
traced was called the Pomœrium, and where an entrance was to be made, it
was customary to carry the plough across the space--a little engineering
difficulty that gave the name of Porta to a gate, from the verb
_portare_, to carry. Remus looked on at the proceedings in a
half-quizzing, half-quarrelsome spirit, until the wall rose a little
above the ground, when he amused himself by leaping derisively over it.
"Thus," said he, "will the enemy leap over those barriers." "And thus,"
rejoined the superintendent or clerk of the works--one Celer, who acted
in this instance with thoughtless celerity--"thus shall die whoever may
leap over my barriers."[4] With these words he gave Remus a mortal
blow, and the legend goes on to state, that Romulus was immediately
seized with remorse, and subsequent visits from his brother's ghost
rendered Romulus himself little better than the ghost of what he used to
be. Remus showed as much spirit after his decease as during his
lifetime; and took the form of the deadly nightshade, springing up at
the bed-side, to poison the existence of his brother.
[Illustration: Awful appearance of the Shade of Remus to Romulus.]
Tradition tells us that Romulus came at length to terms with the ghost,
who agreed to discontinue his visits, in consideration of the
establishment of the festival of the Lemuria--called, originally,
Remuria--in honour of his memory. The rites were celebrated
bare-footed--an appropriate penalty for one who had stepped into a
brother's shoes; the hands were thrice washed--a process much needed, as
a sort of expiation for dirty work;--and black beans were thrown four
times behind the back, with the superstitious belief that the growing up
of the beans would prevent the stalking abroad of evil spirits. The
unfortunate twin was buried on Mount Aventine, and Romulus ordered a
double set of sceptres, crowns, and royal badges, in order that he might
set up one set by the side of his own, in honour of his late relative.
These duplicates of mere senseless symbols served only to commemorate
the double part which Romulus had acted; for a vacant throne and a
headless crown were but empty tributes to a murdered brother's memory.
The city having been built, was found considerably too large for the
people there were to live in it; and as a place cannot, like a garment,
be made to fit by taking it in, there was no alternative but to fill the
city with any stuff that might serve for stuffing. Romulus, therefore,
threw open his gates to any one who chose to walk in, which caused an
influx of those who, from having no character at all, usually go under
the denomination of all sorts of characters. Society became terribly
mixed, and, in fact, the place was a kind of Van Demon's Land, crammed
with criminals, replete with runaway slaves, and forming--in a word--a
regular refuge for the morally destitute. It says something for the
females of the period, that women were very scarce at Rome, and it is
surprising that some learned philologist has never yet made the remark,
that the fact of the word Ro-man being familiar to us all, while there
is no such term as Ro-woman, may be taken as a collateral proof of the
scarcity of the gentler sex in the city founded by Romulus.
The ladies of the neighbourhood were indisposed to listen to the
addresses of the male population of Rome, which was quite bad enough to
suggest the possibility of the Latin word _male-factor_ having supplied
the distinctive epithet "male" to the ruder sex in general. In vain were
proposals of marriage made to the maidens of the adjoining states, who
one and all declared they would not change their state by becoming the
wives of Romans. Irritated by these refusals, Romulus determined to
prove himself more than a match for these women, every one of whom
thought herself too good a match for any of his people. He announced his
intention to give a party or pic-nic for the celebration of the
Consualia, which were games in honour of Consus, the god of Counsel,--a
sort of lawyer's frolic, in which a mole was sacrificed, probably
because working in the dark was always the characteristic of the legal
fraternity. Invitations to these games were issued in due form to the
Latins and Sabines, with their wives and daughters, many of whom flocked
to the spot, under the influence of female curiosity.
[Illustration: _The Romans walking off with the Sabine Women._]
The weather being propitious, all the Sabine beauty and fashion were
attracted to the place, and the games, consisting of horse-racing, gave
to the scene all the animation of a cup day at Ascot. Suddenly, at a
preconcerted signal, there was a general elopement of the Roman youth
with the Sabine ladies, who were, in the most ungallant manner,
abandoned to their fate by the Sabine gentlemen. It is true that the
latter were taken by surprise, but they certainly made the very best of
their way home before they thought of avenging the wrong and insult that
had been committed. Had they been all married ladies who were carried
off, the cynic might have suggested that the Sabine husbands would not
have objected to a cheap mode of divorce, but--to make use of an
Irishism--there was only one single woman who happened to be a wife in
the whole of the "goodly company." The small Latin states, Antennæ,
Crustumerium, and Cœnina, were very angry at the supineness of the
Sabines, whose King--one Tatius--seemed disposed to take the thing
rather too tacitly. The three states above mentioned commenced an action
on their own account, and Acron, the King of Cœnina, fell in battle by
the hand of Romulus, who, stripping off the apparel of the foe, caused
it to be carried to Rome and hung upon an oak, where the arms and armour
of Acron, glittering among the acorns, were dedicated, as _Spolia
opima_, to Jupiter Feretrius.[5]
Though Tatius had been the last, he was not destined to be the least of
those taking part in the Sabine war; and he determined to rely less on
strategy than stratagem. The water in those days was not so well laid on
as in later times; when the lofty aqueducts, still running in ruins
about the neighbourhood of Rome, were carried to an elevation fitted for
the very highest service that could be desired. Rome, instead of being
well supplied, was supplied by wells; and ladies of rank were accustomed
to draw the water required for domestic purposes. It chanced, one
afternoon, that Tarpeia, the daughter of Tarpeius, the commander of the
Roman city, on the Capitoline Hill, was proceeding on an errand of the
sort, when she met with Tatius, who, addressing her in the language of a
friend, requested "a drink" of her pitcher. Tarpeia, dazzled by the
splendour of his gold bracelets and glittering armour, could not resist
the request of such a highly polished gentleman. Tatius had purposely
electrotyped himself for the interview, and, seeing the effect he had
produced, he intimated that he had several friends, who were covered
with metal quite as attractive as that he wore, and that, if Tarpeia
would only open the gate of the citadel to himself and party, she should
have more gold than she could carry. The bargain was faithfully kept on
both sides; for Tarpeia opened the gate to Tatius and the Sabines, who,
on their part performed their contract to the letter, for, as they
entered, they threw at her not only their bracelets but their
breast-plates, completely crushing her with the weight of the gold she
had coveted; and making her think, no doubt, that "never was poor woman
so unmercifully put upon." So thorough an illustration of an _embarras
des richesses_ is not often met with in history.
Being now possessed of the Capitoline, the Sabines were in an improved
position; and the Romans, having tried in vain to recover the citadel,
saw that they must either give in or give battle. Determining on the
latter course, Romulus selected the valley between the Palatine and the
Capitoline, where a general engagement began; but the Romans seemed to
have special engagements elsewhere, for they were all running away, when
their leader, with great tact, vowed a Temple to Jupiter Stator--the
flight-stayer. This gave to the action a decided re-action; for the
Romans, being rallied upon their cowardice, by their chief, began, in
their turn, to rally. The contest grew fierce on both sides, when
suddenly the Sabine ladies, who were the primary cause of the quarrel,
threw themselves into the midst; and, though female interference has
rarely the effect of making peace, the women were, on this occasion, the
cause of a cessation of hostility. It was agreed that the two nations
should be henceforth united under the name of Romans and Quirites, each
having a distinct king, a distinction which, had it continued, must in
time have led to a difference. In a few years, however, Tatius was slain
at a sacrifice which he had attended without the remotest idea of being
made a victim himself; and Romulus, finding nothing said about a
successor, thought it politic to hush the matter up without even
avenging his late colleague. Romulus is said to have reigned for
seven-and-thirty years; but when we enquire into the exact time and
manner of his death we learn nothing, beyond the fact that nobody knows
what became of him. According to the statement of one set of
authorities, he was attending a review in the Palus Capræ--a marsh near
the Tiber--when a total eclipse of the sun took place, and on the return
of light, Romulus was nowhere visible. If this was really the case, it
is probable that he got into a perilous swamp, where he felt a rapid
sinking; and all his attendants being in the dark as to his situation
were unable to extricate him from the marsh in which, according to some
authorities, he went down to posterity.
It must, however, be confessed, that when we look for the cause of
the death of Romulus in this fatal swamp, we have but very poor
ground to go upon. It is, nevertheless, some consolation to us for the
mystery that overhangs the place and manner of his decease, that his
existence is, after all, quite apocryphal; and we are not expected to go
into an elaborate inquiry when, where, and how he died, until the fact
of his having ever lived at all has been satisfactorily settled.
Before we have quite done with Romulus, it will be proper to state
how he is said to have divided the people under his sovereignty. He
is alleged to have separated them into three tribes--the Latin word
_tribus_ will here suggest itself to the acute student--namely the Ramnes,
called after the Romans; the Tities, after Titus Tatius; and the Luceres,
who derived their appellation either from one Lucumo, an Etruscan
ally of Romulus, or Lucerus a king of Ardea; or _lucus_ a grove, because
there was no grove, and hence we get _lucerus a non luco_, on the same
principle as _lucus a non lucendo_: or lastly, according to Niebuhr's
opinion, from a place called Lucer or Lucerum, which the Luceres
might have inhabited.
Each tribe was divided into ten _curiæ_,[6] every one of which had a
chapel for the performance of sacred rites, and was presided over by a
_curio_; and the reader must have little curiosity, indeed, if he does
not ask whether our modern word curate may not be referred to this
remote origin. The _curiæ_ were subdivided into gentes, or clans, and
each gens consisted of several families, called gentiles; so that a man
of family and a member of the gentes, became somewhat synonymous. In
time, however, the gentiles got very much mixed by unsuitable marriages;
and hence there arose among those who could claim to belong to a gens, a
distinction similar to that between the _gentes_, or _gents_, of our own
day, and the _gentiles_, or _gentlemen_. Romulus is said to have
selected his body-guard from the three tribes, taking one hundred from
each, and as Celer, the Etruscan, was their captain, the guards got the
name of Celeres--the fast men of the period.
In addition to the tribes, there existed in those early times a separate
body, consisting of slaves, and a somewhat higher class, called by the
name of clients.[7] The latter belonged to the common people, each of
whom was permitted to choose from among the patricians a _patronus_, or
patron, who could claim the life and fortune of his client in exchange
for the cheaper commodities of protection and patronage. The patron gave
his countenance and advice when asked, the client giving his labour and
his money when wanted--an arrangement which proves that clients, from
the remotest times to the present hour, were liable to pecuniary mulcts,
even to the extent of the entire sacrifice of the whole of their
subsistence, for the benefit of those who had the privilege of advising
them.
The Senate--a term derived from the Latin word _Senes_, old men--formed
the chief council of the state, and its first institution is usually
referred to the reign of Romulus. Three members were nominated by each
tribe, and three by each of the thirty _curiæ_, making ninety-nine in
all, to which Romulus himself is said to have added one, for the purpose
of making up round numbers, and at the same time nominating a sort of
president over the assembly, who also had to take care of the city, in
the absence of the sovereign. There is a difference of opinion as to
whether one hundred new members were added to the Senate at the time of
the union with the Sabines, for Dionysius says there were; but Livy says
there were not; and we are disposed to attach credit to the former, for
he was an extremely particular man, while Livy was frequently oblivious
of caution in giving credence and currency to mere tradition.
Before closing this portion of the narrative of the History of Rome, it
is necessary to warn the reader against believing too much of it. The
current legends are, indeed, _Legenda_, or things to be read, because
every body is in the habit of repeating them; but the student must guard
himself against placing credence in the old remark, that "what everybody
says must be true," for here is a direct instance of what everybody says
being decidedly otherwise. The life and reign of Romulus, are to be
taken not simply _cum grano salis_--with a grain of salt--but with an
entire cellar of that condiment, which is so useful in correcting the
evil consequences of swallowing too much of anything.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] The Lares of the Romans are supposed to have been the Manes or
shades of their ancestors, and consisted of little waxen figures--such
as we should put under shades made of glass--which adorned the halls of
houses. The Lares were sewn up in stout dog's-skin, durability being
consulted more than elegance. The Penates were a superior order of
deities, who were kept in the innermost parts of the establishment, and
took their name from _penitus_, within, which caused the portion of the
house they occupied to be afterwards called the _penetralia_.
[2] Troy destroyed, B.C. 1184. Rome founded, B.C. 753.
[3] From this circumstance the fig was considered figurative of the
foundation of the city, and held sacred in Rome for many centuries.
[4] The Pomœrium was not the actual wall, but a boundary line, held very
sacred by the Romans. It consisted of nothing but the clod turned
inwards by the furrow, and, it is probable, that the offensive act of
Remus was not his leaping over the wall, but his hopping over the clod,
which would, naturally, excite indignation against him as an unmannerly
clod-hopper.
[5] The word Feretrius will strike the merest tyro as being derived from
_fero_, to strike, and meaning to designate Jupiter in his character of
Striker, or Smiter.
[6] The best derivation of the word _curia_ is _quiris_, which, on
inquiry, is found to correspond with _curis_.
[7] The word "client" is probably derived from _cluere_, to hear or
obey--at all events cluere is the best clue we can give to the origin of
the word in question.
CHAPTER THE SECOND.
FROM THE ACCESSION OF NUMA POMPILIUS TO THE DEATH OF ANCUS MARTIUS.
[Illustration]
Romulus having been swamped in the marsh of Capra, or having disappeared
down one of those drains, which have carried away into the great sea of
conjecture so many of the facts of former ages, the senate put off from
week to week, and from this day se'nnight to that day se'nnight the
choice of a successor. The honourable members agreed to try their hands
at Government by turns, and they took the sceptre for five days each by
a constant rotation, which any wheel, and more particularly a
commonwheal, was sure to suffer from. The people growing tired of this
unprofitable game of fives, which threw everything into a state of sixes
and sevens, clamoured so loudly to be reduced under one head, that
permission was given them to elect a sovereign. Their choice fell upon
Numa Pompilius, because he was born on the day of the foundation of the
city; so that he may be said to have succeeded by birth to the berth of
chief magistrate. Numa Pompilius was a Sabine, who we are told had been
instructed by Pythagoras, and we should be happy to believe what we are
told, if we did not happen to know that the sage belonged to quite a
different time, having lived two hundred years later than the alleged
existence of the pupil.
Before entering on his duties, the newly chosen king consulted the
augurs, with one of whom he walked up to the Temple on the Saturnian
Hill, where Numa, seated on a stone, looked to the south as far as he
could see, in order to ascertain whether there was any impediment to his
views and prospects. In the earliest periods of the history of Rome no
office was undertaken without a consultation of the augurs, or auspices;
and the continued use of these words affords proof of the ancient custom
to which they relate; though inauguration now takes place under auspices
of a very different character. The recognised signs of those times were
only two, consisting of the lightning, by means of which the truth was
supposed to flash across the augur's mind; and, secondly, the birds,
who, by being consulted for something singular in their singing, or
eccentric in their flying, might, had they known it, have fairly plumed
themselves on the honours done to them. A crow on the left betokened
that things were looking black, but the same bird on the right imparted
to everything a brighter colour; and as these birds are in the habit of
wandering right and left, the augurs could always declare there was
something to be said on both sides.
Numa Pompilius was, according to all accounts, a just ruler, and he
began his career in a ruler-like manner by drawing several straight
lines about Rome, to mark its boundaries. He placed these under a deity,
termed Terminus, and he erected twelve stones within a stone's throw of
each other, at regular intervals along the frontier. These were visited
once a year by twelve officers, called Fratres Arvales, appointed for
the purpose, and the custom originated, no doubt, the parochial practice
of perambulating parishes with wands and staves, placed in the hands of
beadles, who not unfrequently add the luxury of beating the boys to the
ceremony of beating the boundaries.
[Illustration: Numa Pompilius remembering the Grotto.]
Numa, though he had come to the throne, was fond of the retired walks of
life, and frequently took a solitary stroll in the suburbs. During one
of his rambles chance brought him to a grotto, and he was induced to
remember the grotto by the surpassing loveliness of its fair inhabitant.
Her name was Egeria, her profession that of a fortune-teller, which gave
her such an influence over the superstitious mind of Numa, that she
ruled him with her divining rod as completely as if it had been a rod of
iron. He professed to act under the advice of this nymph, to whom
tradition--an inveterate match-maker--has married him, and he instituted
the Flamines, an order of priests, to give weight to the falsehoods or
"flams" he thought fit to promulgate. The privileges of the Flamines
were not altogether of the most comfortable kind, and consisted chiefly
in the right of wearing the Apex--a cap made of olive wood--and the
Laena, a sort of Roman wrap-rascal, shaggy on both sides, and worn above
the toga, as an overcoat. The Flamen was prohibited from appearing in
public without his Apex, which could not be kept on the head without
strings; but such was the stringency of the regulations, that one
Sulpicius[8] was deprived of his priesthood, in consequence of his
official hat, which was as light as a modern zephyr, having been blown
off his head in the midst of a sacrifice.
Numa added, also, a sort of _ballet_ company to the mythological
arrangements of his day, by establishing twelve _Salii_, or dancing
priests, whose duty it was to execute a grand _pas de douze_ on certain
occasions through the principal public thorough fares. The Salii, though
a highly respectable, were not a very venerable order, for no one could
remain in it whose father and mother were not both alive, the existence
of the parents of the dancing priests being, no doubt, required as a
guarantee that their dancing days were not yet over.
Several temples are dated from this reign, including that of Janus, the
double-faced deity, who presided over peace and war--a most appropriate
office to one capable of looking two ways at once, for there are always
two sides to every quarrel. This temple must have been perfectly useless
during the life of its founder, for it was never to be opened in the
time of peace, and Numa preserved for Rome forty-three years of
undisturbed tranquillity. He was emphatically the friend of order, and
its usual consequences, prosperity to trade, with soundness of credit,
and he encouraged commerce by giving a patron-saint or Lar to every
industrial occupation. He marked also the value of good faith by
building a temple to Bona Fides, and it may be presumed that the
creditor, who, putting up with the loss of his little bill, sacrificed a
bad debt in this Temple, was still in hope that he should eventually
find his account in it.
If it cannot be said that Numa never lost a day, it must be admitted
that he made the most of his time; for he added two whole months to the
year of Romulus. January and February were the names given to the time
thus gained; but as the year did not then correspond with the course of
the sun, it was usual to introduce, every other year, a supplementary
month, so that if one year was too short, the next, by being too long,
made it as broad as it was long in the aggregate.
Numa Pompilius lived to be eighty-two; when he had the beatitude of
dying as peacefully as he had lived; and so gently had Nature dealt with
him, that she had suffered him to run up more than four scores, before
her debt was satisfied. Certain stories are told of the funeral
ceremonies that followed Numa's death; and it is said that the Senators
acted as porters to his bier, in token of their appreciation of the
imperial measures which Numa had himself carried. It has been stated,
also, that he caused to be placed, within his tomb, a copy, on papyrus,
or palm leaves,[9] of his own works, in twenty-four books; and it is
certainly a happy idea to bury an author with his writings, when, if
they have been provocative of sleep in others, he may eventually reap
the benefit of their somniferous properties.
On the death of Numa, the country having been taught, by past
experience, the danger of allowing the crown to go from head to head,
without the slightest regard to a fit, determined that the interregnum
should be short, and the election of a new king was at once proceeded
with. The choice fell upon Tullus Hostilius, who was of a decidedly
warlike turn, and was ever on the look-out for a pretext to commence
hostilities. The Albans, our old friends of Alba Longa, or White's Row,
were the nearest, and consequently the most conveniently situated, for
the indulgence of his pugnacious propensities; and tradition relates
that on one occasion some Alban peasants, having been attacked and
stripped by the Romans, the former, who had lost even their clothes,
sought redress at the hands of their rulers. In the course of an attempt
to settle the dispute between Alba and Rome, each place sent
ambassadors, who crossed each other on the road, as if the two states
were determined to be in every way at cross purposes. The Alban envoys
were beguiled of all ideas of business by invitations to banquets and
feasts, so that whenever they attempted to ask for explanations, their
mouths were stopped with a dinner or a supper, given in honour of their
visit. The Roman messengers were prohibited, on the contrary, from
accepting invitations, or giving up to parties what was meant for
Romankind; and had received peremptory instructions to demand an
immediate settlement of their long-standing account from the Albans. The
parties could not understand each other, or, rather, they understood
each other too well; for war was the object of both, though neither of
them liked the responsibility of beginning it. The Albans, however,
prepared to march on Rome, and encamped themselves within the confines
of a ditch, into which ditch their King, Cluilius, tumbled, one night,
very mysteriously, and died, which caused them to dignify the ditch with
the name of _fossa Cluilia_.
[Illustration: Death of Cluilius.]
The Albans appointed one Mettius Fuffetius, a fussy and nervous
personage, as Dictator, in the place of the late King; and Fuffetius
requested an interview with Tullus, who agreed to the proposition, with
a determination, before meeting the Dictator, not to be dictated to.
Mettius represented the inconvenience of wasting whole rivers of blood,
when a few pints might answer all the purpose; and it was finally agreed
to settle the matter by a grand combat of six, sustained on either side
by three champions, chosen from each army. The Alban and the Roman
forces were graced, respectively, with a trio of brothers, whose
strength and activity rendered them worthy to be ranked with the small
family parties who attach the epithet of Herculean, Acrobatic, Indian
rubber, or Incredible, to the fraternal character in which they come
forward to astonish and amuse the enlightened age we live in.
These six young men were known as the Horatii and Curiatii,--the former
being on the Roman, the latter on the Alban side; and to them it was
agreed, by mutual consent, to trust the fate of the battle. The
story-tellers have done their utmost to render everything Roman as
romantic as possible; and the legend of the Horatii and Curiatii has
been heightened by making one of the latter batch of brothers the
accepted lover of the sister of the Horatii.
All the arrangements for the sanguinary _sestetto_ having been
completed, the six champions came forward, looking fresh and confident,
not one of them displaying nervousness by a shaking of the hand, though
they shook each other's hands very heartily. Having taken their
positions, the men presented a picture which we regret has not been
preserved for us by some sporting annalist of the period. Imagination,
who is "our own reporter" on this occasion, and, perhaps, as accurate a
reporter as many who profess to chronicle passing events, must fill up
the outlines of the sketch that has been handed down to us.
The contest commenced with a great deal of that harmless, but violent
exercise, which goes on between Shakspeare's celebrated pair of
Macs--the well known 'Beth and 'Duff--when the former requests the
latter to "lay on" to him, and there ensues a clashing of their swords,
as vigorous as the clashing of their claims to the crown of Scotland. At
length one of the Curiatii, feeling that they had all met for the
despatch of business, despatched one of the Horatii, upon which the
combatants, being set going, they continued to go one by one with great
rapidity. A few seconds had scarcely elapsed when a second of the
Horatii fell, and the survivor of the trio, thinking that he must
eventually become number three if he did not speedily take care of
number one, resolved to stop short this run of ill-luck against his
race, by attempting a run of good luck for his life; or, in other words,
having a race for it. The excellence of his wind saved him from drawing
his last breath, for the Curiatii, starting off in pursuit, soon proved
unequal in their speed, and one shot far in advance of the other two,
who, though stout of heart, were somewhat too stout of body to be as
forward as their nimbler brother in giving chase to their antagonist.
The survivor of the Horatii perceiving this, turned suddenly round upon
the nearest of his foes, and having at once disposed of him, waited
patiently for the other two, who were coming at unequal speed, puffing
and panting after him. A single blow did for the second of the Curiatii,
who was already blown by the effort of running, and it was unnecessary
to do more with the third, who came up completely out of breath, than to
render him incapable of taking in a further supply of that vitally
important article. The last of the Horatii had consequently become the
conqueror, and though when he began to run his life seemed to hang on a
thread, which an unlucky stitch in his side would have finished off, his
flight was the cause of his coming off in the end with flying colours.
After the first of the Curiatii fell, fatness proved fatal to the other
two, for Horatius, by dealing with them _en gros_, as well as _en
detail_, settled all accounts with both of them.
[Illustration: Combat between the Horatii and Curiatii.]
Seeing the result of the contest, Fuffetius, on the part of the Albans,
gave out that they gave in, and the Romans returned home with Horatius
at their head, carrying--in a huge bundle--the spoils of the Curiatii.
At the entrance of the city he met his sister, who, perceiving among the
spoils, a garment of her late lover, embroidered with a piece of work
from her own hands, commenced another piece of work of a most frantic
and desperate character. Maddened at the sight of the yarn she had spun
for the lost object of her affections, she began spinning another yarn
that threatened to be interminable, if her brother had not soon cut the
thread of it. She called him by all kinds of names but his own, and was,
in fact, as noisy and abusive as a conventional "female in distress,"
or, as that alarming and dangerous nuisance, "an injured woman."
Horatius, who had found the blades of three assailants less cutting than
a sister's tongue, interrupted her as she ran through her wrongs, by
running her through with his sword, accompanying the act with the
exclamation, "Thus perish all the enemies of Rome." Notwithstanding the
excitement and _éclat_ attending the triumphant entry of Horatius into
Rome, the proper officer of the period, whoever he may have been, was
evidently not only on duty, but prepared to do it, for the victorious
fratricide, or sororicide, was at once hurried off to the nearest Roman
station. Having been taken before the king, his majesty saw great
difficulties in the case, and was puzzled how to dispose of it. Taking
out the scales of justice, he threw the heavy crime of Horatius into
one; but the services performed for his country, when cast into the
other scale, seemed to balance the matter pretty evenly. Tullus,
therefore, referred the case to another tribunal, which sentenced the
culprit to be hanged, but he was allowed to have so capitally acquitted
himself in the fight, that he was acquitted of the capital punishment.
This was commuted for the penalty of passing under the yoke, which
consisted of the ceremony of walking under a pike raised upright on two
others, and at these three pikes the only toll placed upon his crime was
levied.
The fallen warriors were honoured with tombs in the form of
sugar-loaves, by which the unsatisfactory sweets of posthumous renown
were symbolised. Fuffetius, who though not wounded in his person, was
fearfully wounded in his pride by the result of the conflict, felt so
jealous of Tullus, that the former, though afraid to burst into open
revolt, determined on the really more revolting plan of treachery. The
rival soldiers had now to combine their forces against the Veientines
and the Fidenates, and, having set out together, they soon found the foe
drawn up in battle array, when Tullus with his Romans faced the
Veientines, and Mettius with his Albans formed a _vis à vis_ to the
Fidenates. When the conflict commenced, the Alban wing showed the white
feather, and Fuffetius gradually withdrew his forces to an adjacent
hill, which he lowered himself by ascending for the purpose of watching
the turn of events, so that he might declare himself on the side of
victory. Tullus saw the unmanly manœuvre, but winked at it, and rushed
like winking upon the Fidenates, who ran so fast that their discretion
completely out-ran their valour. The Roman leader then turned his eyes,
arms, and legs towards the Veientines, who fled towards the Tiber, into
which they desperately dived, but many of them, for divers reasons,
never got out again. The perfidious Albans, headed by Mettius Fuffetius,
now came down into the plain, and putting on a plain, straightforward
manner, he congratulated Tullus on the victory. Pretending not to have
noticed their treachery, he invited them all to a sacrifice on the
following day, and having particularly requested them to come early,
they were on the ground by sunrise, but were completely in the dark as
to the intentions of T. Hostilius. The Romans at a given signal closed
in upon the Albans, who were informed that their city should be razed,
or rather, lowered to the ground, and, that their chief, who had pulled
a different way from his new ally, should be fastened to horses who
should be driven in opposite directions. This cruel sentence, upon which
we have scarcely patience to bestow a sentence of our own, was
barbarously carried into execution. Alba fell to the ground; which is
all we have been able to pick up relating to the subject of this portion
of our history.
The remainder of the reign of Hostilius was occupied with military
successes; but he neglected the worship of the gods, who it is said
evinced their anger by a tremendous shower of stones on the Alban Mount,
in order to soften his flinty heart, by making him feel the weight of
their displeasure. From the extreme of indifference he went to the
opposite extreme of superstition, and called upon Jupiter to send him a
sign--which was, in fact, a sign of the King's head being in a
lamentable condition. The unhappy sovereign, imitating his predecessor
Numa, attempted some experiments in the hope of drawing down some
lightning, but it was not likely that one who had conducted himself so
badly could be a better conductor of the electric fluid, and the result
was, that though he learned the art of attracting the spark, it flashed
upon him with such force that he instantly expired.
Such is the tradition with reference to the death of Tullus; but it is
hard to say whether the accounts handed down to us have been
overcharged, or whether the clouds were in that condition. Some
speculators insinuate that the royal experimentalist owed his sad fate
to some mismanagement of his electrical jar while attempting to produce
an unnatural jarring of the elements. The good actions of Tullus were so
few, that his fame will not afford the omission of one, and being
desirous to put the best construction we can upon his works, we give him
credit for the construction of the Curia Hostilia, whose site still
meets the eye near the northern angle of the Palatine. Ambassadors are
spoken of as existing in the reign of Tullus Hostilius, but whether they
owe their origin to Numa, who went before, or to Ancus Martius, who came
after him, is so much a matter of doubt, that some historians, in trying
to meet the claims of both half-way, stop short of giving the merit to
either. Tullus may, at all events, have the credit of employing, if he
did not institute, the art of diplomacy in Rome; for he appointed
ambassadors, as we have already seen, to negotiate with the Albans.
These envoys were called Feciales, the chief of whom wore on his head a
fillet of white wool, with a quantity of green herbs, formed into a
turban, which must have had somewhat the appearance of a fillet of veal,
with the ingredients for stuffing. His duty was to proceed to the
offending country, and proclaim his wrongs upon the border, though there
might be no one there to listen, and having crossed the boundary--if his
indignation happened to know any bounds--he was to astonish the first
native he met by a catalogue of grievances. On reaching a city, the
ambassador went over the old story to the soldier at the gate, just as
though, at Storey's gate, an irritated foreigner should pour out his
country's real or imaginary wrongs to the sentinel on duty. To this
recital the soldier would, of course, be as deaf as his post, and the
Fecialis would then proceed to lay his complaint before the magistrates.
In the event of his obtaining no redress, he returned home for a spear,
and killing a pig with one end, he poked the fire with the other. The
instrument being thus charred in the handle and blood-stained at the
point, became an appropriate emblem of hostility, and the Fecialis
declared war by stirring it up with the long pole, which he threw across
the enemy's boundary.
After the death of Tullus Hostilius, the people lost no time in choosing
Ancus Martius, a grandson of Numa, for their sovereign. The new king
copied his grandfather, which he had a perfect right to do, but he
imposed on the Pontifex Maximus the very severe task of copying on white
tables the somewhat ponderous works of Pompilius, which were posted up
for the perusal of the populace.
Though partial on the whole to peace, Ancus was not afraid of war, and,
when his kingdom was threatened, he was quite ready to fight for it. He
subdued the Latins, and having first settled them in the field, allowed
them to settle themselves in the city. He enlarged Rome, but abridged
the distance between different parts by throwing the first bridge across
the Tiber, and his name has come down to posterity in the ditch of the
Quirites which he caused to be dug for the defence of the city, against
those who were unlikely to go through thick and thin for the purpose of
invading it. He also built a prison in the heart of the city, and what
might be truly termed a heart of stone, for the prison was formed of a
quarry, and is still in existence as a monument of the hard lot of its
inmates. Ancus Martius further signalised his reign by founding the city
of Ostia at the Tiber's mouth, and thus gave its waters the benefit of
that port which so much increased their value. On the spot may still be
seen some ruins supposed to belong to a temple dedicated to the winds,
among whom the greater part of the temple has long since been
promiscuously scattered. Salt-works were also established in its
neighbourhood, but the _sal_ was of that volatile kind that none now
remains from which buyers could fill their cellars. Ancus Martius
reigned for a period of twenty-four years, and either in tranquillity or
war--whether engaged in the works of peace, or embroiled in a piece of
work--he proved himself thoroughly worthy of his predecessors, and, in
fact, he left far behind him many who had gone before him in the task of
government.
FOOTNOTES:
[8] Val. Maximùs, i. 1. § 4.
[9] There exist, in the British Museum, books older than the time of
Numa, written by the Egyptians, on these palm leaves, which show, in one
sense, the palmy state of literature at that early period.
CHAPTER THE THIRD.
FROM THE ACCESSION OF TARQUINIUS PRISCUS TO THE DEATH OF SERVIUS
TULLIUS.
[Illustration]
It is the opinion of the best authorities that the Muse of History has
employed her skipping-rope in passing, or rather skipping, from the
grave of Ancus Martius to the throne of Tarquinius Priscus; for there is
a very visible gap yawning between the two; and as we have no wish to
set the reader yawning in sympathy with the gap, we at once drag him
away from it.
Plunging into the times of Tarquinius Priscus, we describe him as the
son of a Corinthian merchant, who, being compelled to quit his country
for political reasons, had withdrawn all his Corinthian capital, and
settled at Tarquinii, an Etruscan city. Having fallen in love with a
lady of the place, or, more poetically speaking, deposited his
affections in an Etruscan vase, he became a husband to her, and the
father of two children, named respectively Lucumo and Aruns. Poor Aruns
had a very brief run, and soon met his death; but we cannot say how or
where, for we have no report of the meeting. Lucumo married Tanaquil, an
Etruscan lady, of great beauty and ambition, who professed to dive into
futurity; and, guided by this diving belle, he threw himself into the
stream of events, in the hope of being carried onwards by the tide of
fortune. She persuaded him that Tarquinii was a poor place, where
nothing was to be done; that his foreign extraction prevented him from
being properly drawn out; and that Rome alone could afford him a field
wide enough for his vast abilities. Driven by his wife, he jumped up
into his chariot, which was an open one, and was just entering Rome,
when his cap was suddenly removed from his head by a strange bird, which
some allege was an eagle; though, had they said it was a lark, we should
have believed them far more readily. Lucumo followed his hat as well as
he could with his eyes; but his wife was so completely carried away with
it, that she declared the circumstance told her he would gain a crown,
though it really proved how nearly he had lost one; for until the bird
replaced his hat upon his head, there was only a bare possibility of his
getting it back again.
The wealth of his wife enabled Lucumo to live in the first style of
fashion; and having been admitted to the rights of citizenship, he
changed his name to Lucius Tarquinius: for the sake, perhaps, of the
sound, in the absence of any sounder reason. He was introduced at Court,
where he won the favour of Ancus, who was so much taken by his dashing
exterior, that he gave him a commission in the army, as Tribunus
Celerum, a sort of Captain of the Guards, who, from the title of
Celeres, appear to have been, as we have before observed, the fast men,
as opposed to the "slow coaches" of the period.
[Illustration: Celeres.]
The Captain made himself so generally useful to Ancus, that when the
latter died, his two sons were left to the guardianship of the former,
who, on the day fixed for the election of a new king, sent his wards to
the chase, that they might be pursuing other game, instead of looking
after the Crown, which Tarquinius had set his own eye upon. In the
absence of the youths, Tarquinius, who had got the name of Priscus, or
the old hand, which he seems to have well deserved, proposed himself as
a candidate; and, in a capital electioneering speech, put forth his own
merits with such success, that he was voted on to the throne without
opposition.
The commencement of his reign was not very peaceful, for he was attacked
by the Latins; but he gave them a very severe Latin lesson, and,
crushing them under his feet, sent them back to that part of Italy
forming the lower part of the boot, with the loss of considerable booty.
He, nevertheless, found time for all manner of games; and he instituted
the Ludi Magni, which were great sport, in a space he marked out as the
Circus Maximus.
The position of the Circus was between the Palatine and Aventine Hills,
there being a slope on either side, so that the people followed the
inclination of nature as well as their own in selecting the spot for
spectacular purposes. In the earliest times a Circus was formed of
materials brought by the spectators themselves, who raised temporary
scaffolds, from which an unfortunate drop, causing fearful execution
among the crowd, would frequently happen. Tarquinius Priscus, desirous
of giving more permanent accommodation to the Roman sight seers, built a
Circus capable of containing 150,000 persons, and, from its vast
superiority in size over other similar buildings, it obtained the
distinction of Maximus. The sports of the Circus were extremely
attractive to the Romans, who looked to the _libelli_, containing the
lists of the horses, and names and colours of the drivers, with all the
eagerness of a "gentleman sportsman" seeking information from Dorling's
correct card at Epsom. In the early days of Rome the amusements of the
Circus were limited to the comparatively harmless contests of equestrian
speed; and it was not until the city had reached a high state of
refinement--cruelty having become refined like everything else--that
animals were killed by thousands, and human beings by hundreds at a
time, to glut the sanguinary appetites of the prince and the people. The
ancient Circus was circular at one end only, and the line of seats was
broken by a sort of outwork, supposed to have comprised the box and
retiring-room of the sovereign; while, at the opposite side, was another
deviation from the line of seats, to form a place for the _editor
spectaculorum_--a box for the manager. Though Tarquinius is said to have
founded the Circus Maximus in commemoration of his victory over the
Latins, they were not the only foes whom he might have boasted of
vanquishing.
Having fought and conquered the Sabines, he took from them Collatræ, as
a collateral security for their good behaviour; and coming home with a
great deal of money, he built the Temple of Jupiter on the capitol.
Tarquinius, being desirous of increasing the army, was opposed by a
celebrated augur of the day, one Attus Navius, whose reputation seems to
have been well deserved, if the annexed anecdote is to be believed; for
it indicates that he could see further into a whetstone than any one who
has either gone before or followed him. Navius declared that augury must
determine whether the plan of Tarquinius could be carried out, which
caused the latter to ask, sneeringly, whether he knew what he was
thinking about. The question was ambiguous, but Navius boldly replied he
did, and added, that what Tarquinius proposed to do was perfectly
possible. "Is it indeed," said the King, "I was thinking of cutting
through this whetstone with this razor." "It will be a close shave," was
the reply of the augur, "but it can be done, so cut away;" and the
bluntness of the observation was only equalled by the sharpness of the
blade, which cut the article in two as easily as if it had been a pound
of butter, instead of a stone of granite. This reproof was literally
more cutting than any other that could have been possibly conveyed to
the king, who ever afterwards paid the utmost respect to the augurs, of
whom he was accustomed thenceforth to say, that the affair of the
whetstone proved them to be much sharper blades than he had been willing
to take them for.
Having been at war with the Tuscans, whom he vanquished, he was admitted
into the ranks of the Kings of Etruria; a position which led him to
indulge in the most extravagant desires. He must needs have a crown of
gold, which often tears or encumbers the brow it adorns; a throne of
ivory, on whose too highly polished surface the foot is apt to slip; and
a sceptre, having on its top an eagle, which frequently gives wings to
the power it is intended to typify. His robe was of purple, with so
costly an edging, that the border exceeded all reasonable limits, and
furnished an instance of extravagance carried to the extreme, while the
rate at which he went on may be judged from the fact of his always
driving four in hand in his chariot. He did not, however, wholly neglect
the useful in his taste for the ornamental; and though his extravagance
must have been a drain upon the public pocket, he devoted himself to the
more honourable drainage of the lower portions of the city. He set an
example to all future commissioners of sewers, by his great work of the
_Cloaca Maxima_, some portion of which still exists, and which contains,
in its spacious vault, a far more honourable monument than the most
magnificent tomb that could have been raised to his memory.
Tarquinius had reigned about thirty-eight years, when the sons of Ancus
Martius, who had been from the first brooding over their own ejection
from the throne, carried their brooding so far as to hatch a conspiracy,
which, though regarded by the best authorities as a mare's nest, forms
one of those "lays" of ancient Rome which tradition gives as part of her
history. The youths, expecting that Tarquinius would secure the
succession to a favourite, named Servius Tullius, made an arrangement
with a couple of shepherds, who, pretending to have a quarrel, went with
hatchets in their hands to the king, and requested him to settle their
little difference. Tarquinius seems to have been in a most accommodating
humour, for he is said to have stepped to the door of the palace, to
arbitrate between these most un-gentle shepherds, who, pretending that
they only came with their hatchets to axe his advice, began to axe him
about the head; and while he was endeavouring to act as an arbitrator,
they, acting as still greater traitors, cruelly made away with him. The
lictors who stood by must have had their faces and their fasces turned
the wrong way, for they administered a beating to the shepherds when,
too late, after the regal crown was already cracked beyond the
possibility of repair, and the king was almost knocked to pieces before
he had time to collect himself.
Tarquinius was a practical reformer, and rested his fame on the most
durable foundations, among which the still-existing remains of the
Cloaca Maxima, or largest common sewer, have already been noticed. Those
who are over nice might feel repugnant to come down to posterity by such
a channel; but that country is fortunate indeed in which genius seeks
"the bubble reputation" at the mouth of the sewer, instead of in the
mouth of the cannon.
It must be recorded, to the honour of Tarquinius, that he organised the
plebeians, and elevated some of them to the rank of patricians, thus
giving vigour to the aristocratic body, which runs the risk of becoming
corrupt, and losing its vitality, unless a supply of plebeian life-blood
is from time to time poured into it.
This measure would have been followed by other wholesome reforms, but
for the short-sighted and selfish policy of the patricians themselves,
who could not perceive the fact, full of apparent paradoxes, that if
anything is to remain, it must not stand still; that no station can be
stationary with safety to itself; and that nothing possessed of vitality
can grow old without something new being continually added.
The sixth king of Rome was Servius Tullius, who is said to have been the
son of a female in the establishment of Tanaquil. His mother's name was
Ocrisia; but there is something vague about the paternity of the boy,
which has been assigned sometimes to the Lar, or household god of the
establishment, and sometimes to Vulcan. Whoever may have been the
father, it was soon intimated that the child was to occupy a high
position; and on one occasion, when sleeping in his cradle, his head was
seen to be on fire; but no one was allowed to blow out the poor boy's
brains, or otherwise extinguish the flame, which was rapidly consuming
the hair on the head of the future heir to the monarchy. The nurses and
attendants were ordered to sit down and see the fire burn out of its own
accord, which, the tradition says, it did, though common sense says it
couldn't; for the unfortunate infant must have died of consumption had
he been suffered to blaze away in the cool manner spoken of. Though of
common origin, at least on his mother's side, young Servius Tullius was
supposed to have been completely purified by the fire, which warmed the
hearts of all who came near him; and not only did the queen adopt him as
her own son, but the partial baking had produced such an effect upon his
very ordinary clay, that he was treated like a brick required for the
foundations of the royal house into which Tarquinius cemented him, by
giving him, as a wife, one of the daughters of the royal family.
Tanaquil having kept secret her husband's death, Servius Tullius
continued for some time to carry on the business of government, just as
if nothing had happened. When it was at length felt that the young
favourite of fortune had got the reins fairly in his hands, the murder
came out, and the barbarous assassination of Tarquinius was published to
the multitude. Servius was the first instance of a king who mounted the
throne without the aid of the customary pair of steps, consisting of an
election by the Senate, and a confirmation by the Curiæ.
It might have been expected that Servius, when elevated above his own
humble stock, might have held his head so high and become so
stiff-necked as to prevent him from noticing the rank from which he had
sprung; but, on the contrary, he exalted himself by endeavouring to
raise others. His reign was not a continued round of fights, for he
preferred the trowel to the sword, and, instead of cutting his name with
the latter weapon, he wisely chose to build up his reputation with the
former instrument. His first care was to complete the city, to which he
added three hills, feeling, perhaps, that his fame would become as
ancient as the hills themselves; and with a happy perception that if
"walls have ears" they are just as likely to have tongues, he surrounded
Rome with a wall, which might speak to future ages of his spirit and
enterprise. He was a friend to insolvent debtors, to whom he gave the
benefit of an act of unexampled liberality. Desiring them to make out
schedules of their liabilities, he paid off the creditors in a double
sense, for they were extremely reluctant to receive the cash, the
payment of which cashiered their claim on the person and possessions of
their debtors. He abolished imprisonment for debt, giving power to
creditors over the goods and not the persons--or, as an ingenious
scholar has phrased it, the bona and not the bones--of their debtors.
[Illustration: Debtor and Creditor.--Seizure of Goods for a Debt.]
Servius found that while he was raising up buildings he was knocking
down a great deal of money; but being nevertheless anxious to erect a
temple to Diana on the Aventine Hill he persuaded the Latins, who had
made the place a sort of _quartier Latin_, to subscribe to it. The
Latins, the Romans, and the Sabines, were every year to celebrate a sort
of union sacrifice on this spot, where the cutting up and cooking of
oxen formed what may be termed a joint festival. It happened that a
Sabine agriculturist had reared a prize heifer, which caused quite an
effervescence among his neighbours, and taking the bull quietly by the
horns, he asked the augur what it would be meet for him to do with it.
The soothsayer looked at the bull, who turned his brilliant bull's eye
upon the astonished sage, with a sort of supercilious stare that almost
amounted to a glaring oversight. The augur, not liking the look of the
animal, and anxious, no doubt, to put an end to the interview, declared
that whoever sacrificed the beast to Diana, off-hand, would benefit his
race, and cause his nation to rule over the other confederates. The
animal was led away with a shambling gait to the sacred shambles, where
the Roman priest was waiting to set his hand to any Bull that might be
presented to him. Seeing the Sabine preparing to act as slaughterman,
the pontiff became tiffy, and suggested, that if the other was going to
do the job, he might as well do it with clean hands, upon which the
Sabine rushed to the river to take a finger bath. While the owner was
occupied about his hands the Roman priest took advantage of the pause to
slaughter the animal, and, on his return, the Sabine found that he had
unintentionally washed his hands of the business altogether. The oracle
was thus fulfilled in favour of the Romans, who trumpeted the fact
through the bull's horns, which were hung up in front of the temple in
memory of this successful piece of priest-craft.
The growing popularity of Servius with the plebs made the patricians
anxious to get rid of him, for they had not the sense to feel that if
they aspired to be the pillars of the state, a close union with the
class beneath, or, as they would have contemptuously termed it, the
base, was indispensable. It happened that Servius, in the hope of
propitiating the two sons of Tarquinius, had given them his two
daughters as their wives, though it was a grievous mistake to suppose
that family marriages are usually productive of family union. Jealousy
and quarrelling ensued, which ended in the elder, Tullia, persuading her
sister's husband Lucius Tarquinius to murder his own brother and his own
wife, in order that he might make a match with the lump of female
brimstone that had inflamed his brutal passions. Not satisfied with the
double murder, which would have qualified her new husband to be struck
in the hardest wax and to occupy chambers among the worst of horrors,
Tullia was always whispering into his ear that she wished her father
farther, and by this demoniac spell she worked on the weak and wicked
mind of Lucius Tarquinius. It having been reported that Servius Tullus
intended to crown his own reign by uncrowning himself, and exchanging,
as it were, the royal stock for consuls, the patricians thought it would
be a good opportunity to speculate for a fall, by attempting the king's
overthrow. Tullia and her husband were asked to join in this conspiracy,
when it was found that the wretched and corrupt pair would be quite ripe
for any enormity. It was arranged, therefore, that Lucius Tarquinius, at
a meeting of the Senate, should go down to the House with all the
insignia of royalty, and, having seated himself upon the throne, the
trumpeters in attendance were, by one vigorous blow, to proclaim him as
the sovereign. When Servius heard the news he proceeded to the Assembly,
where all things--including the trumpets--seemed to be flourishing in
favour of the traitor. As the sound of the instruments fell upon the old
king's ears, he seemed to tremble for a moment before the rude blast
which threatened the blasting of all his benevolent views, but calling
out from the doorway in which he stood, he rebuked the insolence and
treachery of his son-in-law. A disgraceful scene ensued, in which other
blows than those of the trumpeters were exchanged, and Servius, who had
in vain desired the traitor to "come off the throne," was executing a
threat to "pull him off" as well as the old man's strength, or rather,
his feebleness, would allow him. The senators were watching the scene
with the vulgar interest attaching to a prize fight, and were no doubt
backing up the combatants with the ordinary expressions of
encouragement, which we can only interpret by our own familiar phrases
of, "Go it," "Now then young 'un," "Bravo old 'un," and "Give it him."
Getting rather too near the edge of the throne, but holding each other
firmly in their respective grasps, the two combatants rolled together
down the steps of the throne--an incident not to be met with in the
rolls of any other Parliament. Getting immediately on to their legs they
again resumed their hostile footing, when Tarquinius being younger and
fresher than his antagonist, seized up the old man, now as feeble as an
infant in arms, and carried his brutality to such a pitch as to pitch
him down the steps of the Senate House. Servius tried in vain to pick up
his courage, and being picked up himself, he was on his road home when
he was overtaken and murdered in a street, which got the name of _Vicus
Sceleratus_, or Rascally Row, from the disgraceful row that occurred in
it. Tullia was driving down to the House to hear the news when her
coachman pulled up at the horrid sight of the king lying in the street,
but the female fury only ordered the man to "drive on," and it is said
that she enforced her directions by flinging a footstool at his head,
though, on subjecting the story to the usual tests, we find the
footstool without a leg to stand upon. Servius Tullus had reigned
forty-four years, and his memory was cherished for centuries after his
death, his birthday being celebrated on the Nones of every month,
because he was known to have been born on some nones, but which
particular nones were unknown to any one. We have already noticed the
wall of Servius, but we must not forget the Agger, or mound, connected
with it, the value of which was equal to that of the wall itself, and,
indeed, those who give the preference to the Agger over the wall do not
much ex-aggerate. There remains to this day a great portion of the
mound, which was sixty feet high and fifty broad, skirted with flag
stones towards the outer side, and the Romans no doubt would derive more
security from laying down their flags on the outer wall than from
hanging out their banners.
The greatest work, however, of the reign of Servius was the reform of
the Constitution, which he constructed with a view to the reconciling of
the wide differences between the patricians and the plebeians, so as to
form one powerful body by making somebodies of those who had hitherto
been treated as nobodies. His first care was to divide the plebeians
into thirty tribes--a name derived from the word _tribus_, or three, and
applied to the three plebeian tribes--the derivation being so simple
that were we to ask any schoolboy if he understood it, his answer would
be, that "he might be whipped" and he would assuredly deserve to be
whipped "if he didn't." These thirty tribes were placed under an officer
called a _tribunus_, whose duty it was to keep a list of the members and
collect the _tributum_--a word, to which in the reader's ready mind, the
word tribute will at once be attributed. Besides the orders of
patricians and plebeians, whose position was determined by descent
alone, Servius thought there were many who might be connected together
by a tie proper to them all, namely, that of property. He accordingly
established a census to be held every five years, in which the name of
every one who had come to man's estate was put down, together with the
amount of his other estate, if he was lucky enough to have any. The
whole number was divided into two heads, one of which was foot, or
_pedites_, and the other horse, or _equites_, among whom an equitable
share of rights and duties had to be distributed. The _pedites_, or
infantry, were not all on the same footing, but were subdivided into six
classes, according to the amount of their possessions, which determined
their position in the army; but even the sixth class, or those who had
no other possession than their self-possession, were not excluded from
the service. Each class was divided into seniors and juniors, the former
being men between forty-five and sixty; the latter, including all below
forty-five and above seventeen, at which early age, though frequently
not bearded themselves, they were expected to go forth and beard the
enemy. In addition to the two assemblies of the curiæ (the _comitia
curiata_) and the tribes (the _comitia tributa_), there was instituted
by Servius a great national assembly called the _comitia centuriata_,
and consisting of the whole of the centuries. Of these centuries there
were altogether one hundred and ninety-three; but, instead of every
individual member being allowed a separate vote, the suffrage was
distributed amongst classes according to their wealth or the number of
asses they possessed, a principle which the opponent of a mere property
qualification will regard as somewhat asinine. By this arrangement the
poor were practically excluded from voting at all, unless the rich were
disagreed among themselves, when the merely industrious classes, such as
the _Fabri_--the very extensive family of the Smiths and the
Carpenters--the _Cornicines_--the respectable race of Hornblowers--and
others of similar degree sometimes had sufficient weight to turn the
balance.
Though the equestrian centuries comprised the richest class, they seem
to have been in one respect little better than beggars on horseback, for
each eques received from the treasury a sum for the purchase of his
horse and an annual grant for its maintenance. The amount was levied
upon orphans and widows, who were, it is true, exempt from other
imposts, though their contributing from their slender means to keep a
horse on its legs caused many to complain that the law rode rough-shod
over them. The Assembly of the Centuries was a grand step towards
self-government, and, though many may think that wealth had an actual
preponderance, it was always possible for a member of a lower class to
get into a higher, and thus an inducement to self-advancement was
secured, which is, certainly, not one of the least useful ends of
government. There were numerous instances of energetic Romans rising
from century to century with a rapidity showing that they were greatly
in advance of the age, or, at all events, of the century in which they
were originally placed by their lot, or rather by their little.
Servius introduced into Rome the Etruscan As, of the value of which we
can give no nearer notion than by stating the fact that a Roman sheep
was worth about ten Etruscan asses. To the poorer classes these coins
could have been of little service, and by way of small change they were
permitted to use shells, from which we no doubt get the phrase of
"shelling out," a quaint expression sometimes used to describe the
process of paying. In some parts of the world shells are still current
as cash, and even among ourselves fish are employed at cards as the
representatives of money. Though in ordinary use for the smaller
purposes of commerce, shells were not receivable as taxes, for when the
Government required the sinews of war it would not have been satisfied
with mussels or any other similar substitute.
The Roman As was of bronze and stamped on one side with a portrait of
Janus, whose two heads we never thought much better than one, though
they appeared appropriately on a coin as a sign, perhaps, that people
are often made doublefaced by money. On the other side was the prow of a
ship, which might be emblematical of the fact that money is necessary to
keep one above water.
In the time of Servius all were expected to arm themselves according to
their means, and the richest were thoroughly clad in bronze for the
protection of their persons, while the poorer, who could not afford
anything of the kind, were obliged to trust for their self-defence to
their own natural metal. The patricians carried a clypeus, or shield, of
such dimensions as to cover frequently the whole body, and by hiding
himself behind it the wearer often escaped a hiding from the enemy. The
material of which the clypeus was composed was wood covered with a
bull's skin that had been so thoroughly tanned as to afford safety
against the severest leathering.
[Illustration: _Tarquinus Superbus makes himself King._]
CHAPTER THE FOURTH.
FROM THE ACCESSION OF TARQUINIUS SUPERBUS TO THE BANISHMENT OF THE ROYAL
FAMILY, AND THE ABOLITION OF THE KINGLY DIGNITY.
[Illustration]
Tarquinius had ascended the throne more by the force of his fists, than
by the strength of his arms; for he had aimed a blow, not only at the
crown, but at the face of the unhappy sovereign who had preceded him.
Carrying his hostility beyond the grave, Tarquinius refused to bury his
animosity, or to grant his victim a funeral. The upstart nature of the
new king gained for him the nickname of Superbus, or the proud, though
he had as little to be proud of as some of the most contemptible
characters in history. He, however, asserted himself with so much
audacity, that the people were completely overawed by his pretensions,
and many made away with themselves, to insure their lives, by a sort of
Irish policy, against Tarquin's violence. He took away the privileges of
the plebeians, and sent many to the scaffold, by employing them as
common bricklayers; but there were several who preferred laying violent
hands on themselves, to laying a single brick of the magnificent
buildings which he planned, in the hope, perhaps, that the splendour of
the constructions of his reign would induce posterity to place the best
construction on his character.
He coolly assumed the whole administration of the law, and added the
office of executioner to that of judge, while he combined with both the
character of a criminal, by seizing the property of all those whom he
punished, and thus adding robbery to violence. To prevent the
possibility of a majority against him in the Senate, he cut off several
of the heads of that body; and though he never condescended to submit
to the Assembly a single question, he treated the unhappy members as if
they had much to answer for.
Finding the continued ill-treatment of his own people getting rather
monotonous, he sought the pleasures of variety, by harassing the
Volscians, whom he robbed of a sufficient sum to enable him to commence
a temple to Jupiter. Bricks and mortar soon ran up above the estimated
cost; and Tarquin had scarcely built the lower floor, when he came to
the old story of shortness of funds, which he supplied by making the
people pay as well as work, and taxing at once their time and their
pockets. This temple was on the Capitoline Hill; and it is said that in
digging the foundations the workmen hit upon a freshly-bleeding human
head, which, of course, must be regarded as an idle tale; nor would it
be right for history to hold an elaborate inquest on this head, since it
would be impossible to find a verdict without having first found the
body. The augur, who, according to the legend, was present on the
occasion, is reported to have made a _post-mortem_ examination of the
head, which he identified as that of one Tolus; but who Tolus was, or
whether he ever was at all, we are told nothing on any competent
authority. The augur, whose duty it was to be ready to interpret
anything that turned up, no sooner saw the head, than putting upon it
the best face he could, he declared it to be a sign that Rome was
destined to be the head of the world--an obvious piece of fulsome
adulation, worthy of being offered to the flattest of flats, by one
disposed to flatter. The temple itself was a great fact, notwithstanding
the numerous fictions that are told concerning it; and there is little
doubt that though, as some say, Tarquinius Priscus (the old one) may
have begun it, Tarquinius Superbus put to it the finishing touch, and
surmounted it with a chariot and four in baked clay, which, had it been
preserved to this day, would have been one of the most interesting of
Potter's Antiquities.
[Illustration: Tarquinius Superbus has the Sibylline Books valued.]
A curious anecdote, connected with the bookselling business of the
period, has been handed down to us; and it is sufficiently interesting
to be handed on to the readers of this work, who are at liberty either
to take it up, or to set it down at its real value. It is said that
Tarquin was waited upon by a female, who brought with her nine books,
and, expressing herself willing to do business, asked three hundred
pieces of gold for the entire set of volumes. The King pooh-poohed the
proposition, on the ground of the exorbitant price, and desired her to
be off with the books, when she solemnly advised him not to off with the
bargain. Finding him obstinate, the woman, who was, it seems, a sibyl,
and eked out her bookseller's profits by the business of a prophetess,
threw into the flames three of the volumes, which, assuming, for a few
minutes, the aspect of illuminated copies, soon left no traces--not even
a spark--of any genius by which they might have been inspired. The
sibyl, soon after, paid a second visit to Tarquin, bringing with her the
six remaining volumes; and having asked in vain the same sum for the
imperfect copy as she had done for the whole work, she went through a
sort of second edition of Burns, by throwing three more of her books
into the fire. To the surprise of Tarquin, she appeared a third time
with her stock of books, now reduced to three; and upon the King's
observing to her "What do you want for these?" she replied that three
hundred pieces of gold was her price; that she made no abatement; that
if the books were not instantly bought, they would speedily be converted
into light literature, and being condensed into one thick volume of
smoke, would, of course, take their final leaves of the royal residence.
The King, astonished at the woman's pertinacity, resolved at last to
send for a valuer, to look at the books, who declared them to be well
worth the money. They contained a variety of remedies for diseases,
directions for preparing sacrifices, and other interesting matter, with
a collection of the oracles of Cumæ, by way of appendix, so that the
volumes formed a sort of encyclopædia, embracing the advantages of a
Cookery Book, a Buchan's Domestic Medicine, and a Complete
Fortune-teller. Tarquin[10] became the purchaser of these three very odd
volumes, which seem to have been estimated less according to their
intrinsic value, than the price they had brought; and they were
carefully put away in the Temple library.
It was the desire of the Government to prevent the people from knowing
what these books might contain, and the office of librarian was
entrusted to two individuals of illustrious birth, under the idea--not
very flattering to aristocracy--that patricians would be found the best
promoters of ignorance. One of these officers, having acted so
inconsistently with his rank, as to have imparted some information to a
fellow-citizen, was dismissed from his place and thrown into the sea in
a bag; so that he may be said, by the heartless punster, to have got the
sack in a double meaning.
While building operations were going on at home, destruction was being
dealt out abroad; and the Gabii being about twelve miles from Rome, were
the objects of the King's hostility. Having sent one of his captains
against them, who was repulsed by a major force, Tarquinius resolved on
trying treachery. He accordingly despatched his son, Sextus, to complain
of ill-treatment at his father's hands, and to implore the pity of the
Gabii, who were gabies enough not only to believe the story, but even to
appoint Sextus their general. He was ultimately chosen their governor;
and finding the Gabii completely in his hands, he sent to his own
governor--Tarquinius--to know what to do with them. The King was in the
garden when the messenger arrived; and whenever the latter asked a
question, the former made no reply, but kept knocking off the heads of
the tallest poppies with his walking-stick. The messenger ventured to
intimate, once or twice, that he was waiting for an answer; but the
heads of the poppies flying off in all directions, he began to tremble
for his own, and he flew off himself, to prevent accidents. On his
return, he mentioned the circumstances to Sextus, who regarded the
poppies as emblems of the Gabii; and, indeed, the latter seemed so
thoroughly asleep, that the comparison was no less just than odious.
Sextus, taking the paternal hint, knocked off several of the heads of
the people; and keeping up the allegory to the fullest extent, cut off
the flower of the Gabii. Many of their fairest blossoms perished by a
too early blow; and being thus deprived of what might fairly be termed
its primest pick, the soil was soon planted with the victorious
standards of Tarquinius. He, however, instead of introducing any apple
of discord, judiciously grafted the Gabian on the Roman stock; and thus
cultivated the only really valuable fruits of victory.
[Illustration: The Evil Conscience of Tarquin.]
Tarquin was a great deal troubled by the signs of the times; or, rather,
he was made so uncomfortable by an evil conscience, that if a snake
appeared in his path, it seemed to hang over him like a horrible load;
and if he went to sleep, there was a mare's-nest always at hand, to
trouble him with a night-mare. He dreamed that some eagles had built in
his gardens, and that in their temporary absence from the nest, some
vultures had breakfasted on the new-laid eggs, and, armed with their
beaks, taken possession of the deserted small tenement. Unable to drive
the vultures out of his head, he was anxious to ascertain the meaning of
the omen, for he had become so superstitious, that if he saw a sparrow
dart from a branch, he regarded it as an emblem that he was himself
about to hop the twig in some unexpected manner. Doubting the efficiency
of his own augurs, on whom he was beginning to throw some of the
discredit to which prophets in their own country are liable, Tarquin
resolved on seeking the aid of foreign talent; and as the omens were
worse than Greek to him, he sent to the oracles at Delphi, thinking if
the matter was Greek to them they would be able to interpret it. His
messengers to the fortune-tellers were his two sons, Aruns and Titus,
together with his nephew, one Lucius Junius Brutus, who, though an
extremely sensible young man, was in the habit of playing the fool, in
order to avert the suspicions of his uncle. Though Brutus assumed the
look of an idiot, and generally had his eye on vacancy, it was only to
conceal the fact that a vacancy on the throne was what he really had his
eye upon. Valuable gifts were taken to the oracle, which was slow to
speak in the absence of presents. When Brutus put a _báton_ into the
hand of the Priestess, she knew, by the weight, that the _báton_ was a
hollow pretext for the conveyance of a bribe, which she looked for,
found, and pocketed. On the strength of a large lump of gold, thus
cunningly conveyed to the Priestess, Brutus ventured to ask who would be
the next King of Rome, to which she replied by a recommendation that
all the applicants should go home to their mothers, for that "he who
kissed his mother first should be the one to govern." Titus and Aruns
made at once for their mamma, and eager to kiss her, ran as fast as they
could to catch the first bus, but Brutus, whom they had perhaps tripped
up, to prevent his getting a fair start, saluted his mother earth with a
smack of the lip in return for the blow on the face that his fall had
occasioned him.
When the ambassadors returned to Rome they found Tarquin as nervous as
ever; and there is little doubt, that if tea had been known in those
days, the King would have sat for ever over his cups, endeavouring to
read the grounds for his fears in the grounds of the beverage. The
treasury having been exhausted by his building speculations, the people
were growing more dissatisfied every day; and, in order to turn their
discontent away from home, he engaged them in a quarrel with Ardea, a
city situated on a lofty rock, against which the Romans threw themselves
with a sort of dashing energy. The attempt to take the place by a common
assault and battery was vain, for the rock stood firm; and it was
probable, that if the Romans remained at the gates, and continued
knocking over and over again, they would ultimately be compelled to
knock under. They therefore resolved on hemming the Ardeans in, as there
was no chance of whipping them out, and military works were run in a
continuous thread round the borders of the city.
The Romans, acting as a sort of army of occupation, had, of course,
scarcely any occupation at all; and there being nothing that soldiers
find it so difficult to kill as their time, the officers were in the
habit of going halves in suppers at each other's quarters. At one of
these entertainments the King's sons, and their cousin, one Tarquinius,
surnamed Collatinus, from the town of Collatia, were discussing the
merits of their respective wives, and each of the officers, with an
uxuriousness among the military that the commonest civility would have
restrained, was praising his own wife at the expense of all others.
It was at length agreed that the husbands should proceed forthwith to
Rome, and that having paid an unexpected visit to all the ladies, the
palm should be awarded to her who should be employed in the most
praiseworthy way, when thus unceremoniously popped in upon. They first
visited the wife of Sextus, who had got a large evening party and ball
at home, and who was much confused by this unexpected revelation of her
midnight revels. Dancing was at its height; and as a great writer has
said of dancing among the Romans, "_Nemo fere saltat sobrius, nisi forte
insaniat_,"[11]--any one who dances must be either very drunk, or stark
mad,--we may guess the state of the company that Sextus found at his
residence. In one corner the game of _Par et Impar_--"odd or
even"--might perhaps have been played; for nothing can be more purely
classical than the origin of some of those sports which form almost the
only pretexts for the employment of our modern street-keepers. A portion
of the guests might have been amusing themselves with the _Tali_, or
"knuckle-bones," others might have been employed at _Jactus
bolus_--"pitch and toss;" while here and there among the revellers might
have been heard the familiar cry of _Aut caput aut navem_--the "heads or
tails" of antiquity.
[Illustration: Mrs. Sextus consoles herself with a Little Party.]
Their next call was at the house of Collatinus, whose wife, Lucretia,
was also engaged with a ball, but it was of cotton, and instead of
devoting herself to the whirl of the dance, she was spinning with her
maids, by way of spinning out the long, dreary hours of her husband's
absence. Sextus at once admitted that Collatinus had indeed got a
treasure of a wife, and the officers returned to the camp; but a few
evenings afterwards, availing himself of the introduction of her
husband, Sextus paid the lady a second visit. Being a kinsman, he was
asked to make himself at home, but his manner became so strange, that
Lucretia could not make him out; and as he did not seem disposed to go
home till morning, she retired to her chamber, with the impression, no
doubt, that being left alone in the sitting-room he would take the hint,
order his horse, and proceed to his lodgings. Lucretia was, however,
disturbed in the middle of the night by Sextus, who was standing over
her with a drawn sword, and who was guilty of such brutal insolence,
that she sent a messenger, the first thing in the morning, to fetch her
husband from Ardea, and her father from Rome, who speedily arrived with
his friend, P. Valerius, a highly respectable man, who afterwards got
the name of Publicola. Collatinus brought with him L. J. Brutus, and
Lucretia having rapidly run through the story of her wrongs, she still
more rapidly run through herself before any one had time to arrest the
deadly weapon. Revenge against Tarquin and his whole race was instantly
sworn, in a sort of quartette, by the four friends, and L. J. Brutus,
snatching up the dagger, made a great point of it in a speech he
addressed to the people in the market place. Indignation was now
thoroughly roused against the Tarquin family, and Brutus, proceeding to
Rome, called a public meeting in the Forum. He opened the business of
the day by stating what had been done, and having made his deposition he
proposed the deposition of the king; when it was moved, by way of
amendment, and carried unanimously, that the resolution should be
extended by the addition of the words, "and the banishment of his wife
and family." A volunteer corps was at once formed to set out for Ardea,
where the king was supposed to be; but on hearing of the insurrection,
he had at once decamped from the camp, and proceeded to Rome, where he
found the gates closed, and feeling himself shut out from the throne, he
took refuge with his two sons, Titus and Aruns, at Caere, in Etruria.
There history loses sight of the old king, but Sextus has been traced to
Gabii, a principality of which he thought he was the head; but the
people soon undeceived him, by showing him they would have no head at
all, for they cut him off one day in a tumult.
Tullia had fled, and it is not known whither; but mercy to the fallen
king would lead us to hope that the queen had gone in a different
direction from that which he had taken. The Ardeans agreed to a truce
for fifteen years--a somewhat lengthy letter of license--during which
all hostile proceedings were to be stayed, and the people decreed the
total abolition of the kingly dignity. The royal stock was converted, as
it were, into consuls, and L. Junius Brutus, with L. Tarquinius
Collatinus, were elected for one year, to fill the latter character.
Before closing an account of what is usually termed the kingly period of
the history of Rome, it is due to truth to state, that though some of
the alleged kings were good and others were bad, they must all be
considered as very doubtful characters. The fact of their existence
depends on no better authority than certain annals, compiled more than
a century and a half after the materials for compiling them had been
destroyed; and we are thus driven to rely upon the statements of certain
story-tellers, belonging, we fear, to a class, whose memories, according
to the proverb, ought to be excellent. In pretending to recollect what
they never knew, they have sometimes forgotten themselves, and in
building up their stories, they have shown how mere fabrication may
raise an ostensibly solid fabric.
Of the seven kings, who are said to have ruled in Rome during a period
of nearly two hundred and fifty years, three or four were murdered;
another subsided in a bog, and another ran for his life, which he saved
by his speed, though he was the last of the race of royalty. It is
difficult to spread these seven sovereigns over a space of two centuries
and a half, and we feel that we might as well attempt to cover an acre
of bread with a thin slice of ham, or turn the river Thames into negus
by throwing a few glasses of sherry into it. Of the earliest Roman
annals, some were burnt, leaving nothing to the student but the tinder,
from which it is, in these days, hardly possible to obtain much light,
but the greater portion of the early history of Rome has come down to us
by tradition, that extraordinary carrier, who is continually adding to
the bulk, but diminishing the weight of the matters consigned to it for
delivery.
Of the condition of the people at this early period little or nothing
can be known, and to amuse ourselves with idle guesses, would be
scarcely better than to turn into a game of blindman's buff the
important business of history. We can however state, with confidence,
that the earliest Romans had no regular coinage, but were in the habit
of answering with brass, in the rudest shape, the demands of their
creditors. Servius Tullius is reputed to have been the first who
converted the brass into coin, and marked it with the figure of a horse
or some other animal,[12] as an emblem, perhaps, of the fact, that money
runs away very rapidly.
Among the early Romans, the most honourable occupations were agriculture
and war; the latter enabling the citizens to make a conquest of the soil
with the sword, and the former teaching them to subdue it to their
purposes by the implements of husbandry. Trade and commerce were held in
contempt, and left to the plebeians; the patrician considering himself
suitably employed only when he was thrashing his corn, or performing the
same operation on his enemies.
During the early existence of the city the native artists were few, and
the great works of architecture undertaken by the later kings were
embellished by foreign talent from Etruria. The writing-master had made
so little progress in ancient Rome, that it is doubtful whether many of
the patricians could write their own names; and even some of the most
distinguished characters of the day were men of mark, not only by their
position, but by their signatures.
It is not very gratifying to the friends of education to find that
though ignorance was almost universal among the early Romans, there was
a wholesome tone of morality among the people, which led them, not only
to condemn in their traditions the cruelty and laxity of principle
prevailing in the family of their last king, but to pay due reverence to
the domestic virtues of Lucretia. The legend of the latter being found
spinning with her maids, while the princesses of the house of Tarquin
were reeling in the dance, during the absence of their respective
husbands, is sufficient to show the estimation in which decency and
sobriety were held, as well as the odium that attached to riotous
revelry. The patrician youth of infant and unlettered Rome would have
been ashamed of those nocturnal gambols which have prevailed among
portions of the juvenile aristocracy and gentry in more civilised
countries, and in a more enlightened age, when door-knockers, and
bell-handles, have been carried off as the _spolia opima_ of some
disorderly triumph.
[Illustration]
FOOTNOTES:
[10] Some say that Tarquinius Priscus bought the books; but it is of
little consequence who was the real buyer, as the whole story is very
probably "a sell" on the part of the narrators, as well as of the sibyl.
[11] Cicero. It is true this was said at a much later time than that of
which we are now writing; but dancing, except in connection with certain
ceremonies, was considered degrading by the Romans from the earliest
period.
[12] Hence, from the word _pecus_, cattle, was derived _pecunia_,
signifying money, and giving rise to our own word "pecuniary."
CHAPTER THE FIFTH.
FROM THE BANISHMENT OF TARQUINIUS SUPERBUS TO THE BATTLE OF LAKE
REGILLUS.
[Illustration]
Brutus, who had gained his eminence by swearing that there should be no
monarch or single ruler in Rome, found himself in sole possession of the
supreme authority. His position presents nothing very remarkable to the
modern observer, who is accustomed to see those who have denounced a
system yesterday participating in the profits of the same system to-day,
and declaring their own arguments to be thoroughly out of place, as
applied to themselves when in office. Brutus, however, could not
consistently exercise a power he had sworn to overthrow; and to carry
out his anti-monarchical principles, he had either to go out himself, or
to ask for a colleague. On the same principle that prefers the half
quartern to utter loaflessness, Brutus proposed a partnership in the
government; and Collatinus was taken into the firm, which proved to have
no firmness at all, for it was dissolved very speedily. The difficulty
of agreement between two of the same trade was severely felt by the two
popular reformers, who were dividing the substance without the name of
that power they had vowed to destroy; it was soon evident that if they
had thought it too much for one, they considered it not enough for two;
and they were accordingly always quarrelling. To prevent collision, they
tried the experiment of taking the supreme authority by turns, each
assuming the fasces for a month at a time; but this alternate chopping
of the regal sticks, or fasces, which were the emblems of power, led to
nothing satisfactory.
A question at length arose, upon which the duality of the ruling mind
was so distinctly marked, that the two consuls, whose very name is
derived from _con_, with, and _salio_, to leap, were trying to leap in
two opposite ways; and an end of their own power was the only conclusion
to which they were likely to jump together. Tarquin had retired to
Caere, waiting the chances of a restoration of his line; but his line
had fallen into such contempt, that he was fishing in vain for his
recall, though he nevertheless sent ambassadors to demand the
restoration of himself, or at all events of his private property.
The senate decreed that though Tarquin could not have the fasces, he was
at liberty to make a bundle of all the other sticks that might belong to
him. On this question Brutus and Collatinus were violently opposed, and
both becoming hot, their excessive warmth led to a mutual coolness that
ended in an open hostility, which shut out every hope of compromise.
Collatinus gave in by going out, and was succeeded by P. Valerius, one
of the party of four who had roused the popular spirit over the bier of
Lucretia.
Tarquin's ambassadors, instead of being satisfied with the permission to
remove his goods, had other objects in the back-ground; for they had a
plan for his restoration in the rear, while they let nothing appear in
the van, but the late king's furniture. The plot was being discussed
after dinner, by a party of the conspirators, when one of the waiters,
who had concealed himself behind the door, overheard the scheme, and ran
to Valerius with the exclusive intelligence. The traitors were secured,
and when they were brought up before the consuls, Brutus recognising
among the offenders his two sons, subjected both them and himself to a
very severe trial. Asking them what they had to say to the charge, and
getting "nothing" in reply, he looked in the faces of his sons, and
declaring that he must class all malefactors under one general head,
which must be cut off, he called upon the lictors to do their duty. In
leaving the other prisoners to be tried by Valerius, Brutus whispered to
his colleague, "Now try them, and acquit them, if you can;" but he could
only execute the law, and the law could only execute the criminals. The
ambassadors were allowed to remain at large, though their plotting
proved that they had been at something very little; and the government
withdrew the permission that had been granted for the removal of
Tarquin's goods, which were divided by means of a scramble among the
populace.
Thus Tarquin, who had broken the twenty valuable tables of Servius, was
doomed to have the tables turned upon him by the destruction of his own,
while every leaf of the former was restored under the Consular
government. The landed estates of the Tarquins were distributed among
the plebeians, so that the banished family had no chance of recovering
their lost ground, which was afterwards known as the Field of Mars, or
Campus Martius. The corn on the confiscated property was ripe; but the
people felt a conscientious objection to consuming the produce which no
labour of their own had reared; and they did not allow the tyrant's
grain to outweigh their honest scruple. Throwing all idea of profit
overboard, they cast the corn into the Tiber, which, it is said, was so
shallow, that the sheaves stuck in the mud, and formed the small island
known as the Insula Tiberina. That a piece of land, however small,
should be formed by a crop of corn, however plentiful, is difficult to
believe: but the story of the wheat can only find reception from the
very longest ears; for common sense will admit that in the effort to
give credit to the tale, it must go thoroughly against the grain on a
proper sifting of all the evidence.
Tarquin relinquishing his hopes of a restoration by stratagem, resolved
on resorting to strategy, and brought into the field a large army, of
which the Veii formed a considerable part, and his son Aruns headed the
Etruscan cavalry. The Roman consuls commanded their own forces; Valerius
being at the head of the foot, and Brutus mounted on a clever cob, with
a strong sword, that might be called a useful hack, taking the lead of
the equestrians. When Aruns entered the field, he recognised Brutus in
Tarquin's cloak, and the young man felt the blood mantling with
indignation into his cheek at the first sight of the mantle. He
instantly made for Brutus, who with equal eagerness made for Aruns, and
so violent was the collision, that the breath was knocked at one blow
out of both their bodies.
[Illustration: Aruns and Brutus.]
The hostile leaders having fallen to the ground, the battle shared their
fate, and both armies withdrew to their camps; but neither would allow
the other the credit of a victory. The legend goes on to state that the
god Silvanus--an alarmist among the classical deities, and synonymous
with Pan--was heard shouting in the night that the Etruscans having lost
one man more than the Romans, the latter had gained the battle. This
announcement of the result of the contest, though only by a majority of
one, so alarmed the Etruscans, who were always panic struck at the voice
of Pan, that they took to flight, leaving the enemy to carry everything
before them, including all the property that the fugitives had left
behind them. The remains of Brutus were brought to the Forum, where they
lay in state; but the state in which they lay was truly deplorable; for
the deceased consul had been so knocked about, that had he been alive,
he would scarcely have known himself, even by the aid of reflection. His
colleague, Valerius, delivered an oration over his departed virtues,
making a catalogue of the whole, and fixing the highest price to every
one of them.
The question of "Shall Brutus have a statue?" was soon answered in the
affirmative, and he was placed among the kings, though he had destroyed
the monarchy. Where failure constitutes the traitor, success makes the
patriot: and upon the merest accident may depend the question whether
the originator of a design against a bad government shall go to the
block of the sculptor, or to that of the executioner.
P. Valerius was in no hurry to ask the people for a colleague, and he
for some time did the whole of the business of the chief magistracy
himself; so that had it not been for the mere name of the office, Rome
might just as well have remained a monarchy. This fact seems to have
flashed at last on the public mind; and when it was found that P.
Valerius was building himself a stone residence, in a strong position, a
rumour was spread abroad that he was aiming at the foundation of his own
house, or family, in the kingly power. On hearing the report he
immediately stopped the works of his intended residence, and having
called a meeting of the curiæ, he appeared before them with his fasces
reversed; a sign that the bundles of rods were not intended to be used
on the backs of the people alone, but that they were held, as it were,
in trust, and in pickle for the punishment of delinquency in general.
This treatment of the fasces so fascinated the people, that they
acquitted P. Valerius of every charge, and acknowledging their
suspicions of a plot to be groundless, they gave him a plot of ground to
build his house upon. Pleased with the taste of popularity, he continued
to court it with so much success, that he gained the name of Publicola,
or one who honours the public; and he certainly introduced many very
wholesome legal reforms, by dabbling in law, in a spirit truly
lau-dable. He gave an appeal from the magistrate to the people, in cases
where the punishment awarded had been a fine, a whipping, or a hanging;
and in the last instance the provision was extremely salutary, for the
suspending of a sentence might often avoid the necessity for suspending
an alleged criminal. This right of appeal was, however, limited to
within a mile from the city; an arrangement that would have justified
the formation of a league to abolish the mile, as an unnecessary
distinction, of which we can only expose the absurdity, by suggesting
the possibility of an offence committed at Knightsbridge being
punishable at Newgate with immediate death; while the culprit of Holborn
Hill, though nearer the place of execution, would be further from the
scaffold.
Having passed several salutary acts, and secured, as it were, the cream
of popularity to himself, he proposed the election of a colleague who
might share the skim with him. The new consul was Spurius Lucretius; but
poor Spurius enjoyed none of the genuine sweets of power. He was so far
advanced in years, at the period of his advancement to office, that he
had already one foot in the grave, and the other foot went in after it
immediately on his taking his new position. M. Horatius Pulvillius was
chosen in the poor old man's stead, and an incident speedily happened
which caused a difference, leading to something more than personal
indifference between the two consuls. The temple of Jupiter, on the
Capitoline, so called from the incident already related, of the Caput
Toli, or head of Tolus, had not yet been dedicated; and it having been
arranged that the thing was to be done, the next question that arose
was, "Who is to do it?" Both consuls were anxious for the job; and it
was at length arranged that lots should be drawn, in order to settle the
undecided point, which had led to such a decided coolness between P.
Valerius and his colleague. Horatius was the happy man whom fortune
favoured by her choice; and he was in the act of performing the
ceremony, when, without any ceremony at all, a messenger rushed in,
exclaiming that the son of the consul had suddenly expired. Believing
the alarm to be false, Horatius hinted at his suspicion of its being one
of the blackest of jobs, by suggesting that those who brought the news
should go and attend the funeral. "As for me," he exclaimed, "I have
other engagements just now;" and, continuing the work of dedication, he
proceeded to mark the commencement of a new era, by driving a huge nail
into the wall of the temple. Such was the mode by which chronology was
taught to the early Romans, who had their dates literally hammered into
them; and, as long as the consul hit the right nail upon the head, or
went upon the proper tack, mistake was almost impossible.
The first specimen of diplomacy to be met with in the records of Rome
must be referred to the first year of the Republic, when a treaty was
concluded with Carthage, and engraved on brazen tables. The material was
appropriate to the purpose it served; and the language was so obscure,
that a modern treaty could scarcely have surpassed it in ambiguity. Some
parts of it were unintelligible to the most learned of the Romans
themselves; and, had any difference arisen as to the interpretation of
the treaty, the tables must have been left to brazen it out; for no one
could have explained their meaning. Though the document may have
mystified many things, it made one thing clear, for it proved history to
have been wrong in stating that Horatius succeeded Brutus, for they are
described as both being consuls together at the date of the treaty. In
following the ordinary version or perversion of the facts or fictions
connected with the rise of Rome, we take history as we find it; and
though much of it is known to be false, we, by continually making the
admission, prevent the bane from remaining very long without the
antidote.
P. Valerius was still consul, with P. Lucretius for a colleague, when
the old King Tarquin happened to be on a visit, at Clusium, in Etruria,
with the local Lar, Porsenna.[13] After supper, Tarquin often grew
garrulous about his alleged wrongs, and worked on the sympathies of his
host, who declared the Romans should receive, through the medium of
Porsenna, a tremendous physicking. The Lar accordingly set forth at the
head of his army, and its approach being announced, the people in the
suburbs of Rome were frightened out of their wits, and into the city.
Throughout the whole of his journey, Porsenna administered a strong dose
to all that opposed his way; and he scoured the country by the most
drastic system of pillage. On arriving at Rome, he at once forced the
Janiculum, the garrison rushing with their leader at their head, and the
foe almost at their heels, into the city. Nothing was now between the
Romans and their assailants but the wooden bridge, or _Pons Sublicius_;
and when the people asked for consolation from their consul, he had none
to offer them. Looking at the water, he saw there was no time for
reflection; and he ordered the bridge to be cut down, when Horatius
Cocles, the gatekeeper, volunteered to offer a check to the enemy. "I
want but two," cried Horatius, "two only are wanted, to join with me in
throwing for that great stake, the safety of Rome;" and there
immediately presented themselves, as ready to "stand the hazard of the
die," if die they must, the youthful Spurius Lartius of the Neminian
race, and Herminius, belonging to the Tities. The three heroes took
their station at the foot of the bridge, resolved that no one should
pass without paying a poll-tax, in the shape of a blow on the head,
which the valiant trio stood prepared to administer. A shout of derisive
laughter was the only salute they received from the Etruscan army; but
the laughter was soon transferred to the other side of the Etruscan
mouth, and subsided altogether when no less than half-a-dozen tongues
were found to have licked the dust, instead of the enemy. Porsenna's
army had advanced to the sound of trumpets, which seemed no longer in a
flourishing condition, but were as incapable of dealing out a blow as
the soldiers themselves. A few of the troops in the rear shouted
"Forward!" to those in the van; but there was such a determined cry of
"Keep back!" among the foremost men, that all were under the influence
of a general gib, and every rank gave evidence of rank cowardice.
While the Etruscans were shaking in their shoes on one side of the
river, the Romans were shivering their own timbers, and knocking down
beams and rafters on the other. They had razed the bridge to the ground,
or rather lowered it to the water, when they called to their gallant
defenders to come back, while there was still a plank left--a single
deal to enable them to cut over to their partners.
Lartius and Herminius, seeing the game was nearly over, thought the only
card they had to play was to discard their companion, and save
themselves by a trick, which, however, would leave all the honours to
Horatius. The two former darted across just before the remainder of the
bridge fell, splashing into the water below, and rendering the tide
untidy with the broken fragments.
Horatius was now alone in his glory, with the foe before him, and the
flood behind; his only alternative being between a fatally hot reception
by the one, and an uncomfortably cold reception by the other.
Disdaining to beg for mercy from Porsenna, he prayed for pity from the
Tiber, and making a bold plunge, he threw himself on the kind indulgence
of the river. Being fastened up in armour, his case was a particularly
hard one, and being encumbered as he was with his arms, to use his legs
was scarcely possible. He nevertheless got on swimmingly, for his heart
never sank, and at length, feeling his foot touch the bottom, he knew
that his hopes were not groundless.
[Illustration: Horatius Cocles Defending the Bridge.]
By courage and strength Horatius prevailed over every obstacle, and
Cocles owed to the cockles of his heart, as well as to the muscles of
his body, the happy results of his hazardous experiment. To recompense
him for his risk by water, the grateful nation gave him a large portion
of land, and erected his statue in the Comitium, a portion of the Forum
from which orators were in the habit of holding forth, and where the
figure of Horatius was placed to speak for itself to the populace.
Though the enemy was kept out of the city, the Romans were kept in,
while provisions were growing shorter and shorter every day--a sort of
growth that led of course to a constant diminution. Such was the
gratitude of the citizens to Horatius, that they subscribed to give him
always as much as he could eat; and although the fact involves a pun we
abominate, we are obliged to state the truth, that, in order to give him
his desert, many went without their dinners.
The Romans had declared they would hold out to the last, and though they
were left with scarcely any food, though they might have at once
procured it, had they consented to eat their own words, they declined to
satisfy their hunger by such a humiliating process. All hope of saving
the city being apparently lost, the senate entered into an agreement
with one Caius Mucius, who could talk a little Tuscan, and who undertook
to go across the water for the purpose of killing Porsenna. Mucius
disguised himself in an Etrurian helmet--a sort of Tuscan bonnet--and
with a sword concealed under the folds of his ample Roman wrap-rascal,
he arrived at Porsenna's camp, just as the salaries were being paid to
the soldiers. While the troops were intent on drawing their pay, Mucius
slily drew his sword, and seeing an individual rather handsomely
dressed, rushed upon him to administer to him, with the weapon, a most
unhandsome dressing.
The individual thus assailed was rapidly despatched, but it turned out
that the victim, instead of being the king, was an unfortunate scribe,
or writer, who could have been by no means prepared for this unusual
fate of genius. Had the critics unmercifully cut him up, the scribe
would have felt that his death was, to a certain extent, in the way of
business; but to be murdered by mistake for a king, was a result that
any member of the republic of letters might fairly have objected to. It
may appear at first sight startling that a literary man should have been
well-dressed, and in the company of a king, but it must be remembered
that the scribe was not necessarily a man of remarkable ability. His art
was that of a mere copyist, which, even in these days, frequently gains
a reputation for the imitator, who is often confounded with, instead of
being confounded by the man of original genius. The scribes of
antiquity, like many modern writers, did no more than set down the
thoughts of others, and, as their style was extremely hard, consisting
of a piece of iron, with which they wrote upon wax, their works were not
likely to make a very deep or lasting impression.
Our pity for the unfortunate literary character is considerably lessened
by the fact, that being in the camp he had no doubt been dining with the
guards; and we know he was wearing a showy dress--two circumstances
indicating an affectation of the manners of the fast man, which are
always unbecoming to the man of letters.
Mucius was about to retire after the execution of the deed, but he was
seized by the attendants, and then seized by remorse when he was
informed that he had despatched a harmless literary man instead of
Porsenna. Being taken to the king, Mucius found him sitting before the
fire of a large altar. The Etruscan chief, on hearing the charge,
pointed out the penalty that had been incurred, when the prisoner,
thrusting his right hand into the fire, allowed it to remain, with
extraordinary coolness, or, rather, with most intense heat, until it was
consumed as far as the wrist; and he concluded the act of self
incendiarism, by declaring there were three hundred others who were just
as ready as himself to take up arms and burn off a hand, in defiance of
their oppressor. Porsenna, who had watched the painful process with
extreme interest, was so delighted at the fortitude displayed, that he
jumped from his seat, and mentally remarking that "the fellow was a
wonderfully cool hand at an operation of the kind," ordered some guards
to conduct him in safety to Rome; at the same time advising Mucius to
conduct himself more wisely for the future.
[Illustration: Mucius Scævola before Porsenna.]
Mucius returned to Rome, where he obtained the name of Scævola (from
_Scærus_) in consequence of his being left-handed, or it might have been
because of his having evinced such an utter want of dexterity in the
business he had undertaken.
Porsenna, having heard that there were three hundred Romans ready to
take his life, felt uneasy at such fearful odds as three hundred to one
against him; nor could he enjoy a moment's peace with himself until a
peace with Rome was concluded. He sent ambassadors to negotiate a
treaty, which was soon arranged; the only difficulty arising on the
subject of the proposed restoration of Tarquin, which his subjects would
not listen to; and, though he and Porsenna had hitherto rowed in the
same boat, the latter found it absolutely necessary to throw the former
overboard. Rome was compelled to return the territory taken from the
Veii, and Porsenna claimed several hostages, among whom were sundry
young ladies of the principal Roman families. One of these was named
Clælia, who, with other maidens, having resolved on a bold plunge for
their liberty, jumped into the Tiber's bed, and swam like a party of
ducks to the other side of the river. Clælia ran home in her dripping
clothes, but, instead of a warm reception, she was met with a wet
blanket, for her father fearing that her having absconded would be
visited upon Rome, sent her back like a runaway school-girl to the camp
of Porsenna. That individual behaved with his usual magnanimity, for he
not only pardoned Clælia and her companions, but sent them home to their
parents, who, perhaps, knew better than Porsenna how to manage them.
[Illustration: Clælia and her Companions escaping from the Etruscan
Camp.]
The Etruscan monarch seems to have been one of those who could do
nothing by halves, but having once granted quarter to the foe, he was
not satisfied until he had surrendered the whole of what he had taken
from the vanquished. He gave them unprovisionally all the provisions
remaining in his camp, and, in fact, he left behind him so many goods
and chattels, that at public auctions it was customary for many years
afterwards to advertise the effects as "the property of King Porsenna."
Returning to Clusium, he is believed to have shut himself up at home,
and never stirred out again, for we meet with him no more in any of the
highways or byways of history.
The Romans having recovered from the blow, or series of blows, they had
received from Porsenna, were prepared to turn their anger on the subject
nearest at hand, and the Sabines were conveniently situated to receive a
great deal of it. Irritated by the enemy, the Sabines lost their temper
towards each other, and several of them, among whom were Atta Clausus,
or Appius Claudius and family, went over to Rome. The renegades were
received by their new allies with honour; for apostacy, which should
carry with it disgrace, was even in those days treated too often as a
virtue. The Claudii were made patricians of Rome, which seems to have
always courted converts by offering the highest price to those who were
ready to part with their old opinions and principles. Valerius
Publicola--or as some call him, Popli-cola, one who honoured the
people--died soon after the last-mentioned event, and received the
compliment of a magnificent funeral. The procession commenced with a
band of pipers, every one of whom the public paid, and the crown was
carried in state; but on such an occasion as this, the empty crown could
be suggestive of nothing but its own hollowness.
The armour belonging to the deceased was buried with him, as if in
mockery of its uselessness against the attacks of the grim enemy; and
the face was painted, as is still the custom in Italy, where the attempt
to disguise the complexion to which we must come at last, only gives to
the reality a hideousness neither necessary nor natural. After the
funeral of a great or a much lamented man, it was usual to hang branches
of cypress on his house, and his gates were decorated with pine by those
who were left pining after him.
It was about this period that the great battle of Lake Regillus is
supposed to have been fought, when the Latins, who had been trying to
translate into Latin everything belonging to Rome, were at length taught
that the Roman character was strong enough to maintain its own
individuality.
In times of extreme peril, it has always been found that two heads,
instead of being better than one, are likely to neutralise each other,
and to reduce the supreme power under one head is the best mode of
making it effectual. The Romans, when seriously threatened by the
Latins, proceeded at once to the appointment of a dictator, from whose
decrees there should be no appeal; so that whatever he said should be no
sooner said than done--a principle of action which contributes
materially to the success of every great enterprise. P. Lartius was the
first dictator; but we can find no traces of his dictation, and he seems
to have been speedily superseded by Aulus Postumius, whose sword is
said to have been known "to bite,"[14]--a propensity which must have
rendered his blade rather liable to snap, unless its temper was
excellent. The appointment of dictator was only for six months; so that
the people were soon absolved from the absolute power under which they
placed themselves. The best piece of patronage at the disposal of the
dictator, was the place of Master of the Horse, which Aulus conferred on
Æbutius; the latter acting completely under the guidance of the former,
who never parted with the reins while deputing the mastership of the
horse to another. Aulus and Æbutius set forward towards the Lake
Regillus, on the margin of which they waited till it was pitch dark
before they pitched their tent, with the intention of preparing for a
pitched battle.
The Latins were led by Mamilius, and the foe being face to face, engaged
themselves hand to hand with the most desperate energy. According to the
legend, Æbutius and Mamilius, meeting in the thick of the fight, came
individually to blows, which resulted in the unhorsing of the Master of
the Horse, who was almost bored to death with the points of the swords
of the enemy. At one time the battle seemed so much in favour of the
Latins, that Aulus entreated the Romans not to resign themselves to the
ravens, to be crowed over in a double sense, by the birds of prey and
the enemy. So mutual was the slaughter, and so equal the bravery on both
sides, that it would have been difficult to decide the battle; and the
legend, in its equal apportionment of valour to each party, would have
come to no practical result, had not supernatural agency stepped in
opportunely to give to one side the victory. Two gigantic youths were
seen fighting on the Roman side, and though nobody knew their names,
their address was the admiration of every one. Their valour was shown at
the expense of the unfortunate Latins, who, unable to sustain the heavy
charge that was now made upon them, made no further attempt to meet any
engagement, but resorted to flight, as the only act that seemed to offer
benefit.
The warriors wore nothing on their heads, and many surmises arose as to
who they could be; but nobody suspected the truth,--that the heroes,
without helmets or hats, were Castor, who never was unaccompanied by his
friend Pollux, and Pollux, who never went anywhere without his Castor.
The same noble youths were the first to announce in Rome the news of the
victory, acting as "their own reporters" of their own exploits. Having
delivered their message, they disappeared as mysteriously as they came;
for the legend loses sight of them in a horse-trough near the temple of
Vesta. Hither they repaired to water their steeds, and to refresh
themselves at an adjacent well; and those who feel the insatiable thirst
of curiosity, are referred to the bottom of this well for the truth, if
a deeper inquiry into the legend is desired. For many ages a
superstitious reverence was shown for the margin of the Lake Regillus,
where a mark, said to be the impression of a celestial horse's hoof,
remained, to make a lasting impression on the softness of credulity.
We have hitherto been swimming, as well as we can, in the sea of
conjecture, catching eagerly at the lightest cork or bladder, in the
shape of fact, to keep us afloat in the stream of events flowing from
legendary sources.
The continuation of the journey will be chiefly on the _terra firma_ of
fact; and, instead of being, now and then, so thoroughly at sea as to
find ourselves wandering into the wildest latitudes, with no other pilot
than tradition, we shall henceforth, in our progress, have good and
substantial grounds to go upon. Hitherto we have had credulity pulling
at the oars, the idle and uncertain breezes of rumour filling our sails,
and our rudder in the hands of various authorities distinguished for
nothing but their disagreement with each other, and who would, in fact,
be without distinction of any kind if they were without a difference.
We are now about to pursue our journey by a more certain road, to carry
on our history, as it were, by the rail; and, though the line may be a
peculiar one of our own, the train of facts will be regular, coming, we
trust into no violent collision with others pursuing the same path, and
arriving, in due time, at the appointed terminus.
FOOTNOTES:
[13] Niebuhr spells the word with a double n, in the penultimate
syllable; but Macaulay, who quotes four verses from different writers in
favour of his orthography, writes the word Porsena, with the penultimate
short.
[14]
"Camerium knows how deeply
The sword of Aulus bites,
And all our city calls him
The man of seventy fights."
MACAULAY's _Lay of the Battle of the Lake Regillus_.
CHAPTER THE SIXTH.
FROM THE BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS TO THE CLOSE OF THE WAR WITH THE
VOLSCIANS.
[Illustration]
The resources of Rome had hitherto been derived from the plunder taken
in war, but the field of battle is always far less fertile than the
field of industry. In the former case, the crop once gathered is
rendered for ever unproductive, and to beat the same enemy twice over,
is like the useless operation of thrashing straw; for if, in either
case, the first thrashing has been complete, there is nothing to be got
by a second. The plebeians had been so long withdrawn from the
cultivation of the land, that they found it extremely awkward to
cultivate a second time an acquaintance once dropped; and the earth
having been hitherto regarded as _infra dig._, was not likely to yield
much to those who had despised until they wanted it. The plebeians could
only reap what they had sown, and as they had sown nothing of any value,
they had fallen into a state of extreme seediness. Begging and borrowing
were the only alternatives of those who could no longer steal, and the
patrician body became a sort of loan society to the plebeians, who
pledged themselves not only morally, but physically, for the return of
the money that had been advanced to them. The law of debtor and creditor
was extremely stringent in ancient Rome; and indeed its stringency
amounted almost to a rope round the debtor's neck; for if he could not
pay within a certain time, he was tied down as the slave of his
creditor. In this position the assailant was called an _addictus_, for
he was regularly sold, without even the equity of redemption being
allowed to him. If the borrower had only pledged himself without an
actual sale, he was simply a _nexus_, with the power of paying off his
debt by either money or work; but if he could do neither, he became an
_addictus_[15] forthwith, when he was thrown into chains, and wore
nothing but the stripes, which were the ordinary livery of that
disgraceful state of servitude.
Appius Claudius had been chosen Consul, with P. Servilius as a
colleague, in the year of the City 258, when a miserable old insolvent,
with his hair like a mat, giving evidence of the severe rubs that had
fallen on his head, rushed into the forum. His face had the paleness of
ashes, and many tried to sift his countenance, in which the marks of his
having been ground down to the dust were plainly visible. His back bore
traces of recent scores, every one of which he declared should be
accounted as a score to be paid off upon his oppressors. His farm had
been burned down, and its contents burned up; his cattle had been driven
he knew not where, while he himself had been driven to distraction. The
tax-gatherer had, nevertheless, been as punctual as ever in his calls,
and having soundly rated the ruined agriculturist for not being ready
with his rates, the latter had been compelled to run into debt; for the
Romans had not made insurance against fire any feature of their policy.
Having been unable to pay his debts, the impoverished farmer became the
slave of his creditor; and the shoulders of the former bore
unmistakeable marks of the latter having got the whip-hand of him. The
excitement in the forum was intense; for all were seized with
indignation, who might possibly be seized for debt; and every one who
owed anything to anybody began to feel that he owed a great deal more to
common humanity. A popular outbreak seemed to be close at hand, and the
two Consuls consulted together on the crisis. Appius Claudius gave it as
his opinion, that as the people were put up, the best way was to put
them down; but his colleague, Servilius, was an advocate for a milder
regimen. At this juncture, news arrived of the Volscian army having set
out for Rome; and the plebeians being called upon to enlist, declared
that they would not enlist themselves at the bidding of those who would
do nothing to enlist their sympathies. In this difficult dilemma, P.
Servilius promised that if they would come out and fight, they should be
released from prison during the war; and guaranteed that if they would
present a bold front to the enemy's sword, their backs should be safe
from the scourge of domestic tyranny. There was an immediate rush of
insolvents into the ranks, which were soon filled almost to overflowing;
for as a great majority of the population happened to be hopelessly in
debt, a summons to the field was the only sort of summons their
appearance to which might have been reasonably relied upon.
They fought with the energy of desperation, for each rank had sworn an
oath, and there was an affidavit, therefore, on every file, to do
execution on the Volscians. Never were bankrupts more determined to
avoid a surrender than the band of defaulters who went forth to meet the
foe with a confidence, which would, probably, have disappeared had they
recognised at the meeting a single one of their creditors. The success
of the Romans was complete, and those who had fought upon the
understanding that every blow they struck was to wipe out a debt,
returned home in the expectation that every old liability had been
rubbed off, and that they would be free to rub on as they best could for
the future. They were, however, doomed to bitter disappointment, for
Appius Claudius declared that no faith ought to be kept with those who
had kept no faith with their creditors; and all the debtors who were not
prepared to pay upon the nail had the screw cruelly applied to them. The
debtors were sent back to their prisons, and many an unfortunate
insolvent, as he thought of the imposition that had been practised upon
him, could only cast his eyes upon the walls of his dungeon, and murmur
at the dreadful cell of which he had become the victim. The bolts and
bars of oppression would have brought liberty to a dead lock, had it not
been for the people outside the gaols, who threatened to rise for the
purpose of falling upon the tyrants. At this critical period Rome was
menaced by the Sabines, when the plebeians were called upon to enlist;
but they declared they would be recruits of the very rawest description
if they allowed themselves to be again done as they had been already.
Public meetings were held on the Esquiline and Aventine hills, where
liberal sentiments, which have now become as old as the hills
themselves, fell upon the popular ear with all the charm and force of
novelty. The patricians were divided as to the best means of dealing
with the difficulty their own misconduct had created, and it was obvious
that the fatal error having been committed of refusing to accede to a
just demand, the scarcely less dangerous mistake of yielding to violence
and clamour was the only course that could now be followed. The
patricians would have stood by their order; but the difficulty was to
know how public order, as well as their own order, could be preserved;
and it was at length agreed that a dictator should be appointed. The
choice fell upon M. Valerius, a moderate man, whom the plebeians could
trust, for he came of a good stock, his father being no other than that
great gun of the popular party, the famous Publicola. A large army was
soon ready to take the field, or to take anything else that came in the
ordinary course of battle. Valerius marched against the Sabines, who
fled, or, more literally speaking, decamped; for they left behind them
their camp, which was taken by the enemy.
On his return to Rome in triumph, the dictator asked for an inquiry into
the people's wrongs, with a view to giving them their rights; but the
patrician party in the senate refusing him his committee, Valerius sent
in his resignation, which was accepted by the senate. He apologised to
the plebeians for not having been able to carry his measures of reform;
and the patricians, pleased by his moderation in resigning his seat,
gave him a curule chair--a sort of portable stall, or reserved seat,
which, at the Circensian games he was privileged to occupy.
The Curule Chair, or Sella Curulis, invites us to pause for a moment,
and hold a short sitting upon it, for the purpose of inquiring into its
origin. Comfort seems to have been supplied most charily in the
construction of this official chair; but there was a fine touch of
morality in giving uneasiness to the seat of unlimited power. The legs
of the Sella Curulis folded like those of a camp-stool; a device which
may have been emblematical of the fact, that the dictatorial office was
liable to a speedy shutting up, for the appointment was never more than
of six months' duration. The material of which the chair was formed was
the smoothest and most highly-polished ivory; so that the fatal facility
of a fall must have been frequently suggested to the occupant of the
seat by its exceedingly slippery surface.[16]
The Consuls, fearing an outbreak if the army was disbanded, ordered the
soldiers to remain on duty in the capacity of special constables over
each other--the staff being held responsible for the conduct of the main
body. To be continued thus as a standing army, was more than the troops
felt disposed to stand; and, determining to take high ground, they
withdrew to the top of the Mons Sacer or Sacred Mount, in the
neighbourhood of Crustumenium. Electing L. Sicinius as their leader,
they accommodated themselves as well as they could, until matters should
be accommodated with the senate.
The patricians began to be greatly alarmed at the secession of the
plebeians; for though the former had been accustomed to trample the
latter under foot, all the foundations of society seemed to be withdrawn
in the absence of that part which, though it may be called the base, is
essential to the existence of the capital. Rome, in fact, was beginning
to find out that an aristocracy cut off from all connection with the
people at large, is little better than a flower separated from the tree,
and doomed to fall speedily into bad odour. The patrician order happily
recognised the important truth, that the most delicate tendrils owe all
their vitality to the sap, carried up to the top of the tree from those
portions that are in the closest connection with the soil; and steps
were therefore taken to prevent the final severing of the sturdy trunk
from the higher branches. An embassy, consisting of ten patricians, was
sent to negotiate; but as the patricians were no orators, and their
stupidity spoke for itself, Menenius Agrippa, who had once been a
plebeian, was sent as their head, which of course included their
mouth-piece.
Menenius, using his authority as spokesman for the common weal, cited
the fable of the Belly and the Members, to the bellicose _plebs_, who
seemed struck by his relation of it to them, and its own relation to
their existing position. He told them that, once upon a time, all the
members of the human body resolved on aiming a blow at the stomach,
which was accused of leading a life of idleness. The hands struck with
no particular aim; the legs, moved to rebellion, refused to stir; the
eye shut down its lid; the mouth went into open hostility, and the nose
joining in the general blow, there seemed every prospect that the proud
stomach would be glad to eat humble pie in the absence of all other
provisions. It was, however, soon found that, in nourishing their
animosity, the members were keeping all nourishment from themselves, and
that they and their revenge were about equally wasted.
The plebeians, understanding the moral of the story, were disposed to
treat, on the understanding that they should henceforth be better
treated. An agreement was entered into, by which the sponge was to be
applied to all old debts; and all who had lost their liberty by being
the slaves of bad circumstances were restored to freedom. The new
compact provided also for the institution of two officers, named
Tribunes, who were invested with authority over the concerns of the
plebeians; and it was certainly one of the best investments ever made
for the profit of the Roman people. The person of the Tribune was so
sacred, that a common assault upon this officer, when in the execution
of his duty, rendered the assailant liable not merely to be taken up,
but to be knocked down and killed in the streets by any one having a
mania for manslaughter.
The Tribune was allowed such an unlimited liberty of speech, that it was
punishable to interrupt him; and in default of bail, it was death to
cough him down while addressing the people. Even to yawn during one of
his discourses, was to open an abyss into which the yawner might be
plunged before he was aware of it; and the involuntary action of his
distended jaws would often render them the jaws of his own destruction.
The house of the Tribune was open day and night; so that it was as easy
to find one of these officers as it is in these days to find a
policeman, and sometimes rather easier. The Tribunes had power to bring
parties before them, or, in other words, to issue summonses, as well as
to enforce fines, which, if not paid, involved the forfeiture of
property, or, in simpler terms, were recoverable by distress warrant
upon the defaulter's goods and chattels. One of the greatest privileges
of the Tribunes was the right of exercising a veto on any decree of the
senate. Though they had no seats in the assembly, they were permitted to
look in at the door; and if any act was passing that they disapproved,
they had the privilege of exercising, by a shout of "No," a sort of
negative authority. This power of prevention left fewer evils to be
cured; and the plebeians, having at last obtained an organ of their own,
may be said to have found the key to their liberties.
The Tribunes seem to have had power to add to their number, for they
selected three colleagues, soon after they themselves had been chosen;
and, from this time forth, a struggle ensued between plebeian energy,
seeking its fair share of right, and patrician tenacity, holding on with
obstinate determination to exclusive advantages.
Contemporaneously with the institution of the Tribunes, some new
officers were appointed, under the name of Ædiles, who were something
like our Commissioners of Woods and Forests, of Sewers, and of Paving
combined; for they had the care of public buildings, roads, and drains,
as well as of baths and washhouses. They sometimes decided small
disputes, and acted as Inspectors of Markets, examining weights,
settling quarrels, and holding the scales of justice as well as of
merchandise. They kept an eye to unwholesome provisions, and a nose to
stale fish; their ears took cognisance of bad language; in their hands
they carried a staff; and they were, in fact, a curious compound of the
beadle, the commissioner, the policeman, and the magistrate.
While the plebeians had been sulking on the Mons Sacer, a treaty between
the Latins and the Romans had been brought about by Spurius Cassius, a
Consul, who, though his name sounds like counterfeit coin, seems to have
possessed a good deal of the true metal. By the treaty, both nations
were to be almost entirely equal in every respect; and, even with regard
to booty, they were to be on the same footing.
By another clause in the act, those insolvent debtors who had been
converted into "alarming sacrifices!" and were reduced to slavery,
because their creditors "must have cash," or its equivalent, were
restored to freedom. The ceremony of manumission was curious, and
comprised so many indignities done to the slave, that, although free, he
could not have been very easy under the process. He was first taken
before the Consul by his master, who gave him a blow on the cheek, which
was rather a back-handed mode of making an independent man of him. The
Consul then laid his wand about the insolvent's back, at the same time
declaring him perfectly free, and telling him to go about his
business--if he happened to have any. The beating having been gone
through, there was still more lathering to be endured; for the head of
the freedman was closely shaved, as a precaution, perhaps, against his
going mad on the attainment of his liberty. His release from his chains
was not complete until he had been deprived of his locks; and to crown
all, he was invested with that emblem of butchery in a political, as
well as a social point of view, the red cap of liberty.
During the internal quarrels of Rome, agriculture had been so thoroughly
neglected, that the harvest had completely fallen to the ground, or,
rather, had never come out of it. The husbandman had husbanded nothing,
either for himself or others; and as nothing had been sown but civil
dissension, there was nothing to reap but the fruit of it. The Romans,
who, until lately, had been thirsting for power, were now hungry for
food; and, to prevent the people from dying at home, envoys were sent to
scour the surrounding countries,--a process which involved many a brush
with the inhabitants. It is stated, by some historians, that, during the
famine, an order was forwarded to Gelo, of Syracuse, for corn, which
that individual was quite ready to supply, but for which he was so
thoroughly unbusiness-like as to refuse the money. The incident, though
utterly without commercial interest, would have been pleasing in a
different point of view, were it not for the stern realities of
chronology, which prove that Gelo could not have acted as a gratuitous
corn-dealer at the time specified, for he was not alive at the period.
While Rome was suffering from want of corn, it was wasting the very
flower of its population in a war with the Volscians. Among the most
distinguished warriors on the side of the Romans was Caius Marcius, a
young patrician, who led all his own clients into an action in which the
defendants--the unfortunate Volscians--were subjected to enormous
damages. He subsequently proceeded against Corioli, which made an
obstinate defence; but was ultimately beaten, and compelled to pay the
whole of the costs of the conflict. From this affair he took the name of
Coriolanus, by which he is better known than by his original appellation
of C. Marcius, for mankind will too often award the largest measure of
fame to the most extensive perpetrator of mischief; and he who would
carve himself a name, may carve it much more deeply and durably with the
sword than with any other instrument.
When the corn arrived from Sicily, the popular party proposed a
gratuitous distribution of the boon; but the patricians, headed by
Coriolanus, who was a tyrant in grain, recommended that the plebeians
should pay for what they required. Complaint is never so open-mouthed as
when it has nothing to eat; and the people became desperate when they
found Coriolanus advising, without a scruple, that not a grain should be
given, nor an ear lent to their sufferings. He proposed the abolition of
the Tribunes as the condition of food being supplied to the people; but
they, becoming every day more crusty from the want of bread, insisted on
his being tried for treason. Coriolanus saw the people waxing resolute
to seal his doom, and he accordingly made his escape, so that when the
time came for him to be tried, he was found wanting. Judgment went
against him by default; his name was struck out of the list of
patricians--a sort of peerage of the period. He was sentenced, moreover,
to _aquæ et ignis interdictio_--prohibition from fire and water; a
punishment which, looking at the fiery nature of all spirituous liquors,
may be fancifully supposed to have involved especially a stoppage of
grog, as it certainly prevented everybody from entertaining him. This
sentence amounted, in fact, to banishment; and, indeed, it was designed
to do so; for the interdiction of fire and water left the culprit
nothing on earth but air, which of course it was quite impossible to
live upon.
[Illustration: Coriolanus parting from his Wife and Family.]
Stung with what he called the ingratitude of his countrymen, though they
had really not much to thank him for, Coriolanus, in a spirit not very
magnanimous, proceeded to offer his services to the enemy. Taking leave
of his wife Volumnia, a voluminous woman, who had had greatness thrust
upon her by nature to an awkward extent, he departed for the country of
the Volscians, and arrived at Antium about supper time. His name was
taken up at once to Attius Tullius, who, though sitting at his meal with
the usual accompaniment of _manus unctæ_, or greasy hands, determined
not to allow the illustrious stranger to slip through his fingers.
Coriolanus was hospitably entertained, and induced to take the command
of the Volscian army against the Roman colonists. He drove them from
place to place until he had got them up against the Cluilian ditch, and
into it many were thrown; a sad proof of his animosity having been
carried to a pitch that must always leave a black stain on his memory.
Here also he pitched his tent within almost a stone's throw of Rome; and
as the plebeians were unwilling to fight, ambassadors were sent to
entreat Coriolanus to lay down his sword; but, contemptuously folding
his arms, he returned no answer. The priests next tried their powers of
persuasion, but though they did all they could to convert Coriolanus to
the cause of Rome, it was not until female influence was brought into
requisition, that the attempt proved successful. His mother Veturia,
accompanied by his considerably better half, Volumnia, and a party of
Roman ladies made up for the occasion, visited him at his camp, when the
clamour of the strong-minded, the sighs and sobs of the weaker, the
sneers of some, the tears of others, and the importunity of all, proved
irresistible. He had been resolute for some time; but when his wife,
with a heavy heart added to her natural weight, fell upon his neck, he
seemed to be sinking under that which he could no longer stand up
against.
His mother, Veturia, following up the advantage that had been gained,
tried the power of the female tongue, to which time seems to go on
adding all the force of which it deprives the rest of the body. The old
lady raved and shouted with a degree of anile energy that struck
Coriolanus with dismay; and when she threw herself on the ground,
declaring he should walk over her body if he attempted to march upon
Rome, he felt that he could not take another step without trampling on
the tenderest relations of humanity. With Volumnia hanging to his neck,
and Veturia clinging to his heels,--with a wife pouring the loudest
lamentations into his ear,--with a mother cursing everything in general,
but his own birthday in particular,--with a bevy of Roman ladies
shrieking and sobbing in the background,--Coriolanus could no longer
resist, but ordered his camp to be broken up, and led his legions back
again. Tradition differs as to the date of the death of Coriolanus, who,
according to some accounts, sunk under the attack made upon him by the
weaker sex; while others assert that he lived to a good old age, which
is likely to have been the case, if the scene we have described was not
immediately the death of him--for the constitution that could have
survived so severe a trial must have been of a strength truly wonderful.
Coriolanus has been held up as a model of disinterestedness, but we
cannot help setting him down as a selfish upstart, who turned traitor to
his country, because it did not form the highest estimate of his
personal merits. His deserts are overbalanced by the fact of his being a
deserter; and it was, assuredly, the reverse of magnanimity to evince
his spite against the nation to which he belonged, merely because his
own value had not been put upon his own services. Such is our view of
Coriolanus without the masquerade dress in which he has been often made
to appear; for truth compels us to take off the gilt in which he has
hitherto shone, and to substitute the guilt that really belongs to him.
The Temple of Fortuna Muliebris was raised, in compliment to the women
who, by their hysterical, and now historical efforts, were said to have
saved Rome; and indeed, considering the frequency with which female
influence operates the other way, the fact of its having been exercised
for the prevention of mischief, deserves the commemoration of a
monument.
FOOTNOTES:
[15] This law is said to have been altered by Servius Tullius; but if
legislation on the subject was at one time loose, it became very binding
afterwards, and was extremely strict at the date above alluded to.
[16] The Curule Chair is said to have been imported, with other articles
of state furniture, from Etruria. In some cases, the feet were formed of
ivory in the shape of elephant's tusks; but there are other proofs of
their Tuscan origin.
CHAPTER THE SEVENTH.
FROM THE CLOSE OF THE WAR WITH THE VOLSCIANS TO THE PASSING OF THE BILL
OF TERENTILLUS.
[Illustration]
After the war with the Volscians was at an end, the Romans are said to
have entered into a treaty with their former foe, the object of which
was a sort of partnership in plunder; it being agreed that the new
allies should take the field together, and divide the produce.
Ill-gotten gain is never a source of real profit; and the land stolen in
war became a ground of contention among the Romans. The patricians had
hitherto grasped the whole of the conquered soil, though they could not
do so with clean hands; and Spurius Cassius proposed that the plebeians
should have a share of it. The suggestion, though violently resisted,
became the law of the land; but the land was not appropriated in
conformity with the law until a much later period. Spurius Cassius did
not long survive, when the year of his Consulship had expired; for the
patricians caused him to be impeached, and his head was struck off upon
a block, though, from the services he had performed, it deserved rather
to have been struck off upon a medal.
The patricians tried to divert the attention of the plebeians from
domestic affairs by leading them constantly into battle; but the latter,
though compelled to march into the field, would take no steps to secure
a victory. Like horses brought to the water but refusing to drink, the
soldiers, though conducted to the field, evinced no thirst for blood;
but firmly declining to aim a single blow, they presented a striking
picture of passive disobedience. In vain did the officers suggest, that
for those ambitious of a soldier's grave, there was at length an
eligible opening; they would gain no laurels, but allowed themselves to
be kept at bay; they laughed outright at their commanders, and, instead
of straining every nerve for success, they kept their risible muscles
only in full exercise.
There existed at this time a gens in Rome which had managed to obtain
such a share of power for itself, that it was generally recognised as
the governing family. The gens alluded to was that of the Fabii, whose
union formed their chief strength; for no member of the family, though
he might be unmindful of his antecedents, was ever known to forget his
relatives. The Fabii derived their name from Faba, a bean, because their
ancestors had cultivated that kind of pulse; but in later times the gens
became remarkable for feeling the popular pulse, and making a cat's-paw
of the patricians. By an arrangement with the order to which they
belonged, the Fabii were ensured one of the consulships, on condition of
their influencing their clients to elect a patrician to the other; and
thus both the people and the senate were played off against each other
for the special advantage of the "family." Fortunately for society,
there is in all corruption a rottenness which is always bringing it
towards its conclusion while it seems to be gaining its end; and the
usual difficulty of getting unprincipled men to hang long together by a
rope of sand, was illustrated in the case of the patricians and the
Fabii. The quarrels among themselves helped to render them contemptible
to the plebeians, and the troops had become so accustomed to treat their
leaders with disrespect, that many an intended fight ended without a
sword being taken from its sheath, and nothing was drawn but the battle.
One of the Consuls had, for several years, been chosen from the family
of the Fabii; when its members growing tired, at last, of their
patrician stock being a laughing-stock to the army, determined to make
themselves popular. Marcus Fabius won the hearts of the soldiers, by
dressing their wounds, and promising to redress their grievances. Kæso
Fabius, his successor, recommended the distribution of the land among
the plebeians, by whose sweat it had been gained; but he had not been
always equally anxious to acknowledge the claims of popular
perspiration; for he had been one of those who condemned Spurius Cassius
for having made a similar proposition.
Tradition states that the Fabii afterwards emigrated in a body, upwards
of three hundred strong, taking with them four thousand clients; but
whether the clients went at their own solicitation, or whether the Fabii
were the solicitors, we are not in a position to determine. It is said
that the whole party of four thousand three hundred went into action
together, and paid with their lives the costs of the sad affair; but the
critical authorities doubt the whole story; and it is satisfactory to
our best feelings to know that we, on this point, know nothing.[17]
The Etrurians soon after wasted the country near Rome, and wasted their
own time into the bargain, for they were at last glad to treat, though
not until they had retreated. A peace was concluded; and the parties
held their peace for forty years,--or, at all events, if they ever had
words, they did not come to blows during that lengthened period.
As some of the events recorded in this chapter arose out of the Roman
law of debtor and creditor, it may be just as well to include in this
account a few items of a commercial character. When a man ran into debt,
he was almost sure to be brought to a stand-still, for compound interest
continued to accrue so rapidly that there was no chance of compounding
with those to whom he owed money. Thirty days after a debt being
demanded, the defaulter was handed over to his creditor, and bound with
a cord, by way of accord and satisfaction; but, at the end of sixty
days, a crier, whose office was enough to make him shed tears,
advertised the insolvent for sale as a slave in the market-place. It is
not surprising that the plebeians should rise against their being put up
to this degrading auction, more particularly when the masters to whom
they were knocked down were in the habit of beating and cruelly
ill-treating them. The patricians laid violent hands, not only upon the
plebeians, but upon all the property of the State, assuming to the
utmost all its rights, and repudiating all its duties. They took as a
matter of right all the offices of state; and so complete was the
seizure made by the patricians of every thing in the shape of a
Government situation, that the name of the order which absorbed to
itself all the good things is to be traced in the modern word
"patronage." The whole of the profits of war went into the pockets of
the upper class; and though the plebeians drew the sword, the patricians
drew whatever money was to be obtained from the enemy.
The patricians, however, were not allowed to exercise their tyranny
always without resistance; for, if their conduct was revolting to human
nature, it was to be expected that human nature would revolt against
them when opportunity offered. An instance occurred during the
Consulship of Appius Claudius, who had been elected by the senate, and
who, wishing to levy troops, caused the names of all the men between
eighteen and forty-five to be called over in a list, which furnished the
materials for enlistment. Amongst the names was that of Publilius
Volero, who had formerly held a commission as a centurion, or captain;
and, being now selected to serve as a common soldier, declared
indignantly that rather than go as a private into the ranks, he would
continue in a private station. Publilius, in fact, kicked violently
against the orders of the Consul, and being a man of very powerful
stamp, it was felt that when Publilius kicked in earnest, there was
something on foot that it was not easy to contend against. Appius
intimating that the Consuls must be obeyed, desired one of the lictors
to do his duty; when Volero, being a strong and robust man, received the
lictor with open arms, and lifting him from the ground, gave him a
setting down that shook the nerves of the astonished officer. Having
thrown the lictor on the ground, where the unhappy functionary took his
own measure, instead of carrying out those of his superiors, Volero
threw himself on the public, upon whom he made a very strong impression.
[Illustration: A Lictor is sent to arrest Publilius Volero.]
Publilius from this moment had considerable weight with the plebeians,
who made him one of their Tribunes; and he at once proposed a large
measure of reform in the mode of electing those officers. He suggested
an extension of the suffrage, by giving it to the tribes instead of the
centuries; and public meetings were got up in support of the project.
These meetings were attended by the patricians, and disturbances ensued,
owing to the attempts of one party to put the other party down; for
public discussion in all ages seems to have been conducted on the
principle that it is to be all on one side, and that any opinion opposed
to that of the majority is not to be listened to. When the strength of
lungs happens to be with the party having the strength of argument,
there is not much harm done; but as the patricians and plebeians
mustered in nearly equal numbers at the meetings alluded to, personal
altercations frequently took place; and the Tribunes as well as the
Consuls sent their respective officers to arrest each other.
At length Lætorius, who had been elected as the colleague of Publilius
Volero, marched into the Forum with an armed force, determined that he
would that morning carry the day; and as he drew his sword, he declared
he would go through with it. The patricians, losing their own
resolution, offered to agree to any that he might propose; but, refusing
to trust them, he took possession of the Capitol, as a guarantee for the
fulfilment of their promise. The _Lex Publilia_ was accordingly passed,
to the great annoyance of Appius, who always treated the plebeians as if
different sorts of clay, as well as different moulds, were employed by
Nature in her great man--ufacture. When his year of office was over, he
was impeached by the Tribunes; but on the day when the trial ought to
have come on, the worldly trials of Appius were all past, for he died
the night before the cause stood for hearing. Posterity has agreed on
the verdict which the judges were not required to pronounce; and it has
even been said that he fell by his own hand, in consequence of his sense
of guilt preventing him from knowing how to acquit himself.
To add to its troubles, Rome was visited by a double plague, in the
shape of an external foe and an internal pestilence. The enemy having
approached the gates of the city, the country people had taken refuge
inside the walls, bringing with them their cattle in such numbers that
the place was literally littered with pigs, while the oxen and sheep
were packed in pens to an extent of which our own pen can furnish but a
faint outline. The summer was at the height of its heat, and the
sufferings of the poor dumb animals, as they lost their fat, and met
their fate, were enough to melt not only a heart of stone, but many a
stone of suet. The foe, fearing from the pestilence a plaguy deal of
trouble, broke up their camp; and Rome was allowed to enjoy an interval
of peace, though disease did more havoc than might have been expected at
the hands of an enemy.
We now come to the legend of Cincinnatus; and though it is no better
than a legend, which, as the smallest student will be aware, is so
called from _legendum_, a thing to be read, we must proceed upon the
assumption that, as it is a thing to be read, it is _à fortiori_ a thing
to be written. Lucius Quinctius, surnamed Cincinnatus from his curly
locks--for nature had dressed his hair to a turn--was of a high
patrician family. He passed his life as a country gentleman occupying
his own estate, and occupying himself in looking after it. His land, it
must be admitted, was better cultivated than his manners, which were
haughty and imperious. His virtues were all of the domestic kind; he was
equally attached to his wife and his farm, and he was an excellent
husband, as well as a good husbandman.
[Illustration: Cincinnatus chosen Dictator.]
It happened that Rome was in such a perilous state as to need a strong
hand, when Cincinnatus, being famed for the use of the spade, was
invited to leave his _otium cum dig._--as everybody knows already, and
somebody may have said before--that he might assume the office of
dictator. When the messengers arrived from the senate, Cincinnatus was
at work in the fields, perhaps sowing up some old tares, or examining
the state of his pulse--a favourite crop in those days--or cutting out
the sickliest of his corn with the sickle. The soil being loamy, and
Cincinnatus being in the thick of his work, he was not very presentable;
but hastily throwing his toga round him, he made the best appearance he
could before the messengers of the senate. They at once hailed him as
dictator, and carried him to Rome, where he called out every man capable
of bearing arms; and every man thus called out, accepted the patriotic
challenge. Every soldier was to carry with him food for five days, and
twelve stakes cut into lengths to form a barricade; so that, as the
stakes weighed several pounds, and the eatables were solid, the burden
of each man, together with his accoutrements--which included a cask on
the head from which the perspiration poured--must have been
inconveniently ponderous. Notwithstanding their heavy load, the legend,
which is less weighty than their equipments, goes on to state that the
soldiers started at sunset, with Cincinnatus at their head, and reached
the camp, a distance of two-and-twenty miles, at a quick march, or
rather at a fast trot, by midnight. Though the story runs thus, we are
compelled to doubt the running of the troops, who, with their legs
encumbered by their arms and other equipments, must have found speed
impossible. On arriving at Mount Algidus, where the enemy was encamped,
Cincinnatus made his soldiers surround the place, and by aiming at all
in the ring, they were sure to hit somebody. Finding themselves in the
midst of a circle by no means social, the Æquians sued for mercy; but
Cincinnatus threw Gracchus Clœlius and his lieutenants into chains,
which was equivalent to making them enter into bonds for their future
good behaviour. Clœlius continued in his command after having been thus
formally tied down, and Cincinnatus returned to Rome in triumph. Having
held the dictatorship only sixteen days, he laid it quietly down, and
returning to his farming operations, after having submitted the enemy to
the yoke, he fitted it once more to the necks of his oxen.
While engaged in fighting with an external enemy, a nation often forgets
the foes she has within; and it is the cruel policy of despotism to
waste the popular energy on quarrels with strangers, in order to divert
the attention of the public from domestic grievances. The war being
ended, the people began to look at home, and they soon perceived that,
while the sword of aggression had been in constant use, the sword of
justice had been rusting in the scabbard, or had been only drawn forth
to inflict, occasionally, a wound on public liberty. A movement arose in
favour of law reform, and C. Terentillus Arsa brought in a bill for
getting the patricians and plebeians to a better understanding, by
putting them on nearly the same footing. The measure led to considerable
agitation; for, though the tribunes passed it, the senate could not get
over it at all; and, the latter having thrown it out, the former brought
in a bill, containing a great deal more than the original demand, in the
year following. In political, as well as pecuniary affairs, a just claim
carries interest, which accumulates as long as the claim remains
unsatisfied; and every day, while it augments the debt due, increases
the difficulty of meeting it.
The proposition of Terentillus was much discussed in large assemblies,
the harmony of which was disturbed by some of the young patricians; for,
even in the early days of which we write, the noble art of laughing
down, or crowing over a discomfited orator, was understood by some of
the juvenile scions of aristocracy. It happened that Cincinnatus had
four sons, who were exceedingly fine young men, with very coarse
manners. One of them, named Kæso, was continually getting into street
rows, or disturbing public meetings; and frequently went so far as to
interfere with Virginius, a tribune, in the execution of his duty. The
officer was for a long time patient; but, at length, was goaded to take
the matter, as well as the offender, up; and Kæso was charged with a
series of assaults, of a more or less aggravated and aggravating
character. While these accusations were hanging over him, an old case of
manslaughter came to light; the victim having been an aged invalid, whom
Kæso, in a disreputable night brawl, had cruelly maltreated. He was
already under heavy sureties when this fresh charge was brought up, and,
to avoid meeting it, this proud patrician ran away from his bail,
leaving their recognizances to be forfeited.
Reports were soon afterwards spread, that the man who had left the city
as a contemptible runaway, was about to return to it in the more
formidable character of a robber and a murderer. One night when the
people had gone to bed, many of them heard in their sleep the trampling
of horses, which seemed to come like a tremendous nightmare over the
city. Presently a shout arose, which beat upon the drum of every ear
like a call to battle. The Consuls sprang out of bed, and throwing about
them the first substitute for a toga that the bedclothes presented,
they made at once for the walls of the city. The plebeians, when called
upon, refused to serve; and the Consuls, feeling how weak they were in
going to the wall alone, made the usual promises, which the people, as
usual, were induced to discount, at a great personal sacrifice.
Proceeding to the Capitol, they found it in the possession of a large
band of exiles and runaway slaves, who would have been glad to run away
a second time, had escape been possible. Many fell, and were felled to
the earth, on both sides, while P. Valerius after putting several to the
sword, had the sword put to him in a most uncomfortable manner.
The exiles took nothing by their expedition as far as the attack was
concerned; but many of them owed something to the expedition with which
they fled from the contest. After this battle, all traces of Kæso
Quinctius are lost; but whether he fell in the fray, or whether the
thread of his existence was frayed out in some other way, is a mystery
we have no means of unravelling.
Appius Claudius was now called upon, as the surviving partner of P.
Valerius, to redeem the pledge given by the latter; but Appius, with a
chicanery worthy of Chancery in its best, or rather in its worst days,
pleaded the death of his colleague as a bar to the suit, declaring that
both consuls must be joined in it, though he knew all the while that a
bill of revivor for the purpose of including the deceased consul was
quite impossible. During these unhappy differences between the two
orders, many of the leading plebeians were murdered at the instigation
of the patricians, who, however, were rapidly cutting their own throats;
for violence, while it thinned the body, added to the stoutness of heart
of the popular party. The tribunes were increased in number from five to
ten; and, somewhat later, a still higher point was gained for the
plebeians by limiting to a couple of sheep and thirty beeves the fines
to which they were liable. These exactions were, however, enforced with
such rigour that the tenderest lamb was allowed no quarter if a fine had
been incurred, and the smallest stake in the country--if the stake
happened to be beef--was seized without remorse if the owner had become
subject to a penalty.
It was many years before the Bill of Terentillus--which has been
specially noted--was at length taken up, when the patricians graciously
consented to a change in the laws, and offered the benefit of their
services into the bargain, by taking upon themselves to determine the
sort of change that was required. Hitting, by anticipation, on the
modern expedient for delaying useful measures, the patricians appointed
a select committee to inquire into law reform, and, by way of rendering
the chances of legislation still more remote, they ordered the members
to proceed to Athens, where, under the enervating influence of Attic
associations, they were likely to go to sleep over the subject of their
labours. The special commissioners became, no doubt, so thoroughly Greek
in all their ideas, that, even the preparation of their report was
deferred until the Greek Kalends.
FOOTNOTE:
[17] Among the other difficulties of this story is the comparatively
trifling one, that the Fabian race did not become extinct; but tradition
hops over this dilemma, by leaving one of the family behind to serve as
a father to future Fabii.
CHAPTER THE EIGHTH.
FROM THE ESTABLISHMENT OF THE DECEMVIRATE TO THE TAKING OF VEII.
[Illustration: Roman Bull and Priest of the period.]
The Romans, being at peace abroad, began to think of improving the means
of quarrelling among themselves at home, and a desire for law reform
became general. Three senators had been sent to Athens to collect
information, but what they picked up in Greece was so thoroughly Greek
to them, that they were obliged to get it translated into Latin by one
Hermodorus, an Ephesian refugee, before they could understand a word of
it.[18] As one job naturally leads to another, it was arranged that
three commissioners having been employed in cramming, the process of
digesting should be entrusted to ten more, who were called the
Decemviri. These were appointed from the patricians, after a struggle on
the part of the plebeians to get five selected from their own order;
but, with a laudable regard to public order, they withdrew their
opposition. The especial object for which the Decemviri had been
appointed was to frame a new code of laws, but it seems to have been
always un
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