The spirit of self-devotion is so beautiful and noble, that even when
the act is performed in obedience to the dictates of a false religion,
it is impossible not to be struck with admiration and almost reverence
for the unconscious type of the one great act that has hallowed every
other sacrifice. Thus it was that Codrus, the Athenian king, has ever
since been honored for the tradition that he gave his own life to secure
the safety of his people; and there is a touching story, with neither
name nor place, of a heathen monarch who was bidden by his priests to
appease the supposed wrath of his gods by the sacrifice of the being
dearest to him. His young son had been seized on as his most beloved,
when his wife rushed between and declared that her son must live, and
not by his death rob her of her right to fall, as her husband's dearest.
The priest looked at the father; the face that had been sternly composed
before was full of uncontrolled anguish as he sprang forward to save
the wife rather than the child. That impulse was an answer, like the
entreaty of the mother before Solomon; the priest struck the fatal blow
ere the king's hand could withhold him, and the mother died with a last
look of exceeding joy at her husband's love and her son's safety. Human
sacrifices are of course accursed, and even the better sort of heathens
viewed them with horror; but the voluntary confronting of death, even at
the call of a distorted presage of future atonement, required qualities
that were perhaps the highest that could be exercised among those who
were devoid of the light of truth.
In the year 339 there was a remarkable instance of such devotion. The
Romans were at war with the Latins, a nation dwelling to the south of
them, and almost exactly resembling themselves in language, habits,
government, and fashions of fighting. Indeed the city of Rome itself
was but an offshoot from the old Latin kingdom; and there was not much
difference between the two nations even in courage and perseverance. The
two consuls of the year were Titus Manlius Torquatus and Publius Decius
Mus. They were both very distinguished men. Manlius was a patrician, or
one of the high ancient nobles of Rome, and had in early youth fought a
single combat with a gigantic Gaul, who offered himself, like Goliath,
as a champion of his tribe; had slain him, and taken from him a gold
torque, or collar, whence his surname Torquatus. Decius was a plebeian;
one of the free though not noble citizens who had votes, but only within
a few years had been capable of being chosen to the higher offices
of state, and who looked upon every election to the consulship as a
victory. Three years previously, when a tribune in command of a
legion, Decius had saved the consul, Cornelius Cossus, from a dangerous
situation, and enabled him to gain a great victory; and this exploit was
remembered, and led to the choice of this well-experienced soldier as
the colleague of Manlius.
The two consuls both went out together in command of the forces, each
having a separate army, and intending to act in concert. They marched
to the beautiful country at the foot of Mount Vesuvius, which was then
a harmless mountain clothed with chestnut woods, with spaces opening
between, where farms and vineyards rejoiced in the sunshine and the
fresh breezes of the lovely blue bay that lay stretched beneath. Those
who climbed to the summit might indeed find beds of ashes and the jagged
edge of a huge basin or gulf; the houses and walls were built of dark-
red and black material that once had flowed from the crater in boiling
torrents: but these had long since cooled, and so long was it since a
column of smoke had been seen to rise from the mountain top, that it
only remained as a matter of tradition that this region was one of
mysterious fire, and that the dark cool lake Avernus, near the mountain
skirts, was the very entrance to the shadowy realms beneath, that were
supposed to be inhabited by the spirits of the dead.
It might be that the neighborhood of this lake, with the dread
imaginations connected with it by pagan fancy, influenced even the stout
hearts of the consuls; for, the night after they came in sight of the
enemy, each dreamt the same dream, namely, that he beheld a mighty
form of gigantic height and stature, who told him 'that the victory was
decreed to that army of the two whose leader should devote himself to
the Dii Manes,' that is, to the deities who watched over the shades
of the dead. Probably these older Romans held the old Etruscan belief,
which took these 'gods beneath' to be winged beings, who bore away the
departing soul, weighted its merits and demerits, and placed it in a
region of peace or of woe, according to its deserts. This was part of
the grave and earnest faith that gave the earlier Romans such truth
and resolution; but latterly they so corrupted it with the Greek myths,
that, in after times, they did not even know who the gods of Decius
were.
At daybreak the two consuls sought one another out, and told their
dreams; and they agreed that they would join their armies in one, Decius
leading the right and Manlius the left wing; and that whichever found
his troops giving way, should at once rush into the enemy's columns and
die, to secure the victory to his colleague. At the same time strict
commands were given that no Roman should come out of his rank to fight
in single combat with the enemy; a necessary regulation, as the Latins
were so like, in every respect, to the Romans, that there would have
been fatal confusion had there been any mingling together before the
battle. Just as this command had been given out, young Titus Manlius,
the son of the consul, met a Latin leader, who called him by name and
challenged him to fight hand to hand. The youth was emulous of the honor
his father had gained by his own combat at the same age with the Gaul,
but forgot both the present edict and that his father had scrupulously
asked permission before accepting the challenge. He at once came
forward, and after a brave conflict, slew his adversary, and taking his
armor, presented himself at his father's tent and laid the spoils at his
feet.
But old Manlius turned aside sadly, and collected his troops to hear his
address to his son: 'You have transgressed,' he said, 'the discipline
which has been the support of the Roman people, and reduced me to the
hard necessity of either forgetting myself and mine, or else the regard
I owe to the general safety. Rome must not suffer by one fault. We must
expiate it ourselves. A sad example shall we be, but a wholesome one
to the Roman youth. For me, both the natural love of a father, and that
specimen thou hast given of thy valor move me exceedingly; but since
either the consular authority must be established by thy death, or
destroyed by thy impunity, I cannot think, if thou be a true Manlius,
that thou wilt be backward to repair the breach thou hast made in
military discipline by undergoing the just meed of thine offence. He
then placed the wreath of leaves, the reward of a victor, upon his son's
head, and gave the command to the lictor to bind the young man to a
stake, and strike off his head. The troops stood round as men stunned,
no one durst utter a word; the son submitted without one complaint,
since his death was for the good of Rome: and the father, trusting that
the doom of the Dii Manes was about to overtake him, beheld the brave
but rash young head fall, then watched the corpse covered with the
trophies won from the Latins, and made no hindrance to the glorious
obsequies with which the whole army honored this untimely death. Strict
discipline was indeed established, and no one again durst break his
rank; but the younger men greatly hated Manlius for his severity, and
gave him no credit for the agony he had concealed while giving up his
gallant son to the wellbeing of Rome.
A few days after, the expected battle took place, and after some little
time the front rank of Decius' men began to fall back upon the line in
their rear. This was the token he had waited for. He called to Valerius,
the chief priest of Rome, to consecrate him, and was directed to put
on his chief robe of office, the beautiful toga proetexta, to cover
his head, and standing on his javelin, call aloud to the 'nine gods' to
accept his devotion, to save the Roman legions, and strike terror into
his enemies. This done, he commanded his lictors to carry word to his
colleague that the sacrifice was accomplished, and then girding his robe
round him in the manner adopted in sacrificing to the gods, he mounted
his white horse, and rushed like lightning into the thickest of the
Latins. At first they fell away on all sides as if some heavenly
apparition had come down on them; then, as some recognized him, they
closed in on him, and pierced his breast with their weapons; but even
as he fell the superstition that a devoted leader was sure to win the
field, came full on their minds, they broke and fled. Meanwhile the
message came to Manlius, and drew from him a burst of tears--tears that
he had not shed for his son--his hope of himself meeting the doom and
ending his sorrow was gone; but none the less he nerved himself to
complete the advantage gained by Decius' death. Only one wing of the
Latins had fled, the other fought long and bravely, and when at last it
was defeated, and cut down on the field of battle, both conqueror and
conquered declared that, if Manlius had been the leader of the Latins,
they would have had the victory. Manlius afterwards completely subdued
the Latins, who became incorporated with the Romans; but bravely as he
had borne up, his health gave way under his sorrow, and before the end
of the year he was unable to take the field.
Forty-five years later, in the year 294, another Decius was consul. He
was the son of the first devoted Decius, and had shown himself worthy of
his name, both as a citizen and soldier. His first consulate had been in
conjunction with one of the most high-spirited and famous Roman nobles,
Quintus Fabius, surnamed Maximus, or the Greatest, and at three years'
end they were again chosen together, when the Romans had been brought
into considerable peril by an alliance between the Gauls and the
Samnites, their chief enemies in Italy.
One being a patrician and the other a plebeian, there was every attempt
made at Rome to stir up jealousies and dissensions between them; but
both were much too noble and generous to be thus set one against the
other; and when Fabius found how serious was the state of affairs in
Etruria, he sent to Rome to entreat that Decius would come and act with
him. 'With him I shall never want forces, nor have too many enemies to
deal with.'
The Gauls, since the time of Brennus, had so entirely settled in
northern Italy, that it had acquired the name of Cisalpine Gaul, and
they were as warlike as ever, while better armed and trained. The united
armies of Gauls, Samnites, and their allies, together, are said to have
amounted to 143,330 foot and 46,000 horse, and the Roman army consisted
of four legions, 24,000 in all, with an unspecified number of horse. The
place of battle was at Sentinum, and here for the first time the Gauls
brought armed chariots into use,--probably the wicker chariots, with
scythes in the midst of the clumsy wooden wheels, which were used by the
Kelts in Britain two centuries later. It was the first time the Romans
had encountered these barbarous vehicles; they were taken by surprise,
the horses started, and could not be brought back to the charge, and the
legions were mowed down like corn where the furious Gaul impelled his
scythe. Decius shouted in vain, and tried to gather his men and lead
them back; but the terror at this new mode of warfare had so mastered
them, that they paid no attention to his call. Then, half in policy,
half in superstition, he resolved to follow his father in his death.
He called the chief priest, Marcus Livius, and standing on his javelin,
went through the same formula of self-dedication, and in the like manner
threw himself, alone and unarmed, in the midst of the enemy, among whom
he soon fell, under many a savage stroke. The priest, himself a gallant
soldier, called to the troops that their victory was now secured, and
thoroughly believing him, they let him lead them back to the charge, and
routed the Gauls; whilst Fabius so well did his part against the other
nations, that the victory was complete, and 25,000 enemies were slain.
So covered was the body of Decius by the corpses of his enemies, that
all that day it could not be found; but on the next it was discovered,
and Fabius, with a full heart, pronounced the funeral oration of the
second Decius, who had willingly offered himself to turn the tide
of battle in favor of his country. It was the last of such acts of
dedication--the Romans became more learned and philosophical, and
perhaps more reasonable; and yet, mistaken as was the object, it seems
a falling off that, 200 years later, Cicero should not know who were the
'nine gods' of the Decii, and should regard their sacrifice as 'heroic
indeed, but unworthy of men of understanding'.