Produced by David Kline, Greg Bergquist and The Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
[Illustration: CASTLE S. ANGELO.]
Edition d'Elite
Historical Tales
The Romance of Reality
By
CHARLES MORRIS
_Author of "Half-Hours with the Best American Authors," "Tales from the
Dramatists," etc._
IN FIFTEEN VOLUMES
Volume XI
Roman
J.B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY
PHILADELPHIA AND LONDON
Copyright, 1896, by J.B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY.
Copyright, 1904, by J.B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY.
Copyright, 1908, by J.B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
HOW ROME WAS FOUNDED 7
THE SABINE VIRGINS 14
THE HORATII AND CURIATII 22
THE DYNASTY OF THE TARQUINS 26
THE BOOKS OF THE SIBYL 32
THE STORY OF LUCRETIA 36
HOW BRAVE HORATIUS KEPT THE BRIDGE 43
THE BATTLE OF LAKE REGILLUS 50
THE REVOLT OF THE PEOPLE 54
THE REVENGE OF CORIOLANUS 60
CINCINNATUS AND THE AEQUIANS 68
THE SACRIFICE OF VIRGINIA 75
CAMILLUS AT THE SIEGE OF VEII 87
THE GAULS AT ROME 94
THE CURTIAN GULF 105
ANECDOTES OF THE LATIN AND SAMNITE WARS 108
THE CAUDINE FORKS 116
THE FATE OF REGULUS 126
HANNIBAL CROSSES THE ALPS 135
HOW HANNIBAL FOUGHT AND DIED 145
ARCHIMEDES AT THE SIEGE OF SYRACUSE 152
THE FATE OF CARTHAGE 158
THE GRACCHI AND THEIR FALL 165
JUGURTHA, THE PURCHASER OF ROME 173
THE EXILE AND REVENGE OF MARIUS 180
THE PROSCRIPTION OF SULLA 191
THE REVOLT OF THE GLADIATORS 198
CAESAR AND THE PIRATES 204
CAESAR AND POMPEY 208
THE ASSASSINATION OF CAESAR 218
ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA 227
AN IMPERIAL MONSTER 236
THE MURDER OF AN EMPRESS 243
BOADICEA, THE HEROINE OF BRITAIN 250
ROME SWEPT BY FLAMES 255
THE DOOM OF NERO 262
THE SPORTS OF THE AMPHITHEATRE 272
THE REIGN OF A GLUTTON 280
THE FAITHFUL EPONINA 289
THE SIEGE OF JERUSALEM 293
THE DESTRUCTION OF POMPEII 301
AN IMPERIAL SAVAGE 309
THE DEEDS OF CONSTANTINE 319
THE GOTHS CROSS THE DANUBE 325
THE DOWNFALL OF ROME 331
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
ROMAN.
PAGE
THE CASTLE OF ST. ANGELO _Frontispiece_.
ROME FROM THE DOME OF ST. PETER'S 18
THE FORUM OF ROME 26
BRUTUS ORDERING THE EXECUTION OF HIS SONS 40
HORATIUS KEEPING THE BRIDGE 46
THE SACRIFICE OF VIRGINIA 75
RUINS OF THE ROMAN AQUEDUCTS 106
HANNIBAL CROSSING THE ALPS 139
THE BATHS OF CARACALLA 150
THE ASSASSINATION OF CAESAR 218
ANTONY'S ORATION OVER CAESAR 224
THE GALLEY OF CLEOPATRA 230
THE TOMB OF HADRIAN 260
A ROMAN CHARIOT RACE 275
THE COLISEUM AT ROME 282
THE JEWS' WAILING PLACE, JERUSALEM 294
THE RUINS OF POMPEII 306
EQUESTRIAN STATUE OF MARCUS AURELIUS 309
ARCH OF TITUS, ROME 320
THE LAST COMBAT OF THE GLADIATORS 333
_HOW ROME WAS FOUNDED._
Very far back in time, more than twenty-six hundred years ago, on the
banks of a small Italian river, known as the Tiber, were laid the
foundations of a city which was in time to become the conqueror of the
civilized world. Of the early days of this renowned city of Rome we know
very little. What is called its history is really only legend,--stories
invented by poets, or ancient facts which became gradually changed into
romances. The Romans believed them, but that is no reason why we should.
They believed many things which we doubt. And yet these romantic stories
are the only existing foundation-stones of actual Roman history, and we
can do no better than give them for what little kernel of fact they may
contain.
In our tales from Greek history it has been told how the city of Troy
was destroyed, and how AEneas, one of its warrior chiefs, escaped. After
many adventures this fugitive Trojan prince reached Italy and founded
there a new kingdom. His son Ascanius afterwards built the city of Alba
Longa (the long white city) not far from the site of the later city of
Rome. Three hundred years passed away, many kings came and went, and
then Numitor, a descendant of AEneas, came to the throne. But Numitor
had an ambitious brother, Amulius, who robbed him of his crown, and,
while letting him live, killed his only son and shut up his daughter
Silvia in the temple of the goddess Vesta, to guard the ever-burning
fire of that deity.
Here Silvia had twin sons, whose father was said, in the old
superstitious fashion, to be Mars, the God of War. The usurper, fearing
that these sons of Mars might grow up and deprive him of his throne,
ordered that they and their mother should be flung into the Tiber, then
swollen with recent rains. The mother was drowned, but destiny, or Mars,
preserved the sons. Borne onward in their basket cradle, they were at
length swept ashore where the river had overflown its banks at the foot
of the afterwards famous Palatine Hill. Here the cradle was over-turned
near the roots of a wild fig-tree, and the infants left at the edge of
the shallow waters.
What follows sounds still more like fable. A she-wolf that came to the
water to drink chanced to see the helpless children, and carried them to
her cave, where she fed them with her milk. As they grew older a
woodpecker brought them food, flying in and out of the cave. At length
Faustulus, a herdsman of the king, found these lusty infants in the
wolf's den, took them home, and gave them to his wife Laurentia to bring
up with her own children. He gave them the names of Romulus and Remus.
Years went by, and the river waifs grew to be strong, handsome, and
brave young men. They became leaders among the shepherds and herdsmen,
and helped them to fight the wild animals that troubled their flocks.
Their home was on the Palatine Hill, and the cattle and sheep for which
they cared were those of the wicked king Amulius. Near by was another
hill, called the Aventine, and on this the deposed king Numitor fed his
flocks. In course of time a quarrel arose between the herdsmen on the
two hills, and Numitor's men, having laid an ambush, took Remus prisoner
and carried him to Alba, where their master dwelt. This no sooner became
known to Romulus than he gathered the young men of the Palatine Hill,
and set out in all haste to the rescue of his brother.
Meanwhile, Remus had been taken before Numitor, who gazed on him with
surprise. His face and bearing were rather those of a prince than of a
shepherd, and there was something in his aspect familiar to the old
king. Numitor questioned him closely, and Remus told him the story of
the river, the wolf, and the herdsman. Numitor listened intently. The
story took him back to the day, many years before, when his daughter
Silvia and her twin sons had been thrown into the swollen stream. Could
the children have escaped? Could this handsome youth be his grandson? It
must be so, for his age and his story agreed.
But while they talked, Romulus and his followers reached the city, and,
being forbidden entrance, made an assault on the gates. In the conflict
that ensued Amulius took part and was killed, and thus Numitor and his
daughter were at last revenged. Seeking Remus, the victorious shepherd
prince found him with Numitor, who now fully recognized in the twin
youths his long-lost grandsons. Romulus, who was now master of the city,
restored his royal grandfather to the throne.
As for Romulus and Remus, their life as shepherds was at an end. It was
not for youths of royal blood and warlike aspirations to spend their
lives in keeping sheep. But Numitor had been restored to the throne of
Alba, and they decided to build a city of their own on those hills where
all their lives had been passed and on which they preferred to dwell.
The land belonged to Numitor, but he willingly granted it to them, and
they led their followers to the spot.
Here a dispute arose between the brothers. The story goes that Romulus
wished to have the city built on the Palatine Hill, Remus on the
Aventine Hill; and that, as they could not agree, they referred the
matter to their grandfather, who advised them to settle it by
augury,--or by watching and forming conclusions from the flight of
birds. This long continued the favorite Roman mode of settling difficult
questions. It was easier than the Greek plan of going to Delphi to
consult the oracle.
The two brothers now stationed themselves on the opposite hills, each
with a portion of their followers, and waited patiently for what the
heavens might send. The day slowly waned, and they waited in vain. Night
came and deepened, and still their vigil lasted. At length, just as the
sun of a new day rose in the east, Remus saw a flight of vultures, six
in all. He exulted at the sight, for the vulture, as a bird which was
seldom seen and did no harm to cattle or crops, was looked upon as an
excellent augury. Word of his success was sent to Romulus, but he capped
the story with a better one, saying that twelve vultures had just passed
over his hill.
The dispute was still open. Remus had seen the birds first; Romulus had
seen the most. Which had won? The question was offered to the decision
of their followers, the majority of whom raised their voices in favor of
Romulus. The Palatine Hill was therefore chosen as the city's site. This
event took place, so Roman chronology tells us, in the year 753 B.C.
The day fixed for the beginning of the work on the new city--the 21st of
April--was a day of religious ceremony and festival among the shepherds.
On this day they offered sacrifices of cakes and milk to their god
Pales, asked for blessings on the flocks and herds, and implored pardon
for all offences against the dryads of the woods, the nymphs of the
streams, and other deities. They purified themselves by flame and their
flocks by smoke, and afterwards indulged in rustic feasts and games.
This day of religious consecration was deemed by Romulus the fittest one
for the important ceremony of founding his projected city.
Far back in time as it was when this took place, Italy seems to have
already possessed numerous cities, many of which were to become enemies
of Rome in later days. The most civilized of the Italian peoples were
the Etruscans, a nation dwelling north of the Tiber, and whose many
cities displayed a higher degree of civilization than those around
them. From these the Romans in later days borrowed many of their
religious customs, and to them Romulus sent to learn what were the
proper ceremonies to use in founding a city.
The ceremonies he used were the following. At the centre of the chosen
area he dug a circular pit through the soil to the hard clay beneath,
and cast into this, with solemn observances, some of the first fruits of
the season. Each of his men also threw in a handful of earth brought
from his native land. Then the pit was filled up, an altar erected upon
it, and a fire kindled on the altar. In this way was the city
consecrated to the gods.
Then, having harnessed a cow and a bull of snow-white color to a plough
whose share was made of brass, Romulus ploughed a furrow along the line
of the future walls. He took care that the earth of the furrow should
fall inward towards the city, and also to lift the plough and carry it
over the places where gates were to be made. As he ploughed he uttered a
prayer to Jupiter, Mars, Vesta, and other deities, invoking their favor,
and praying that the new city should long endure and become an
all-ruling power upon the earth.
The Romans tell us that his prayer was answered by Jupiter, who sent
thunder from one side of the heavens and lightning from the other. These
omens encouraged the people, who went cheerfully to the work of building
the walls. But the consecration of the city was not yet completed. Its
walls were to be cemented by noble blood. There is reason to believe
that in those days the line of a city's walls was held as sacred, and
that it was desecration to enter the enclosure at any place except those
left for the gates. This may be the reason that Romulus gave orders to a
man named Celer, who had charge of the building of the walls, not to let
any one pass over the furrow made by the plough. However this be, the
story goes that Remus, who was still angry about his brother's victory,
leaped scornfully over the furrow, exclaiming, "Shall such defences as
these keep your city?"
Celer, who stood by, stirred to sudden fury by this disdain, raised the
spade with which he had been working, and struck Remus a blow that laid
him dead upon the ground. Then, fearing vengeance for his hasty act, he
rushed away with such speed that his name has since been a synonyme for
quickness. Our word "celerity" is derived from it. But Romulus seems to
have borne the infliction with much of that spirit of fortitude which
distinguished the Romans in after-times. At least, the only effect the
death of his brother had upon him, so far as we know, was in the remark,
"So let it happen to all who pass over my walls!" Thus were consecrated
in the blood of a brother the walls of that city which in later years
was to be bathed in the blood of the brotherhood of mankind, and from
which was destined to outflow a torrent of desolation over the earth.
_THE SABINE VIRGINS._
A tract of ground surrounded by walls does not make a city. Men are
wanted, and of these the new city of Rome had but few. The band of
shepherds who were sufficient to build a wall, or perhaps only a wooden
palisade, were not enough to inhabit a city and defend it from its foes.
The neighboring people had cities of their own, except bandits and
fugitives, men who had shed blood, exiles driven from their homes by
their enemies, or slaves who had fled from their lords and masters.
These were the only people to be had, and Romulus invited them in by
proclaiming that his city should be an asylum for all who were
oppressed, a place of refuge to which any man might flee and be safe
from his pursuers. He erected a temple to a god named Asylaeus,--from
whom comes the word asylum,--and in this he "received and protected all,
delivering none back, neither the servant to his master, the debtor to
his creditor, nor the murderer into the hands of the magistrate, saying
that it was a privileged place, and they could so maintain it by an
order of the holy oracle, insomuch that the city grew presently very
populous."
It was a quick and easy way of peopling a city. Doubtless the country
held many such fugitives,--men lurking in woods or caves, hiding in
mountain clefts, abiding wherever a place of safety offered,--hundreds
of whom, no doubt, were glad to find a shelter among men and behind
walls of defence. But it was probably a sorry population, made up of the
waifs of mankind, many of whom had been slaves or murderers. There were
certainly no women among this desperate horde, and Romulus appealed in
vain to the neighboring cities to let his people obtain wives from among
their maidens. It was not safe for the citizens of Rome to go abroad to
seek wives for themselves; the surrounding peoples rejected the appeal
of Romulus with scorn and disdain; unless something was done Rome bade
fair to remain a city of bachelors.
In this dilemma Romulus conceived a plan to win wives for his people. He
sent word abroad that he had discovered the altar of the god Consus, who
presided over secret counsels, and he invited the citizens of the
neighboring towns to come to Rome and take part in a feast with which he
proposed to celebrate the festal day of the deity. This was the 21st of
August, just four months after the founding of the city,--that is, if it
was the same year.
There were to be sacrifices to Consus, where libations would be poured
into the flames that consumed the victims. These would be followed by
horse-and chariot-races, banquets, and other festivities. The promise of
merry-making brought numerous spectators from the nearer cities, some
doubtless drawn by curiosity to see what sort of a commonwealth this
was that had grown up so suddenly on the sheep pastures of the Palatine
Hill; and they found their wives and daughters as curious and eager for
enjoyment as themselves, and brought them along, ignoring the scorn with
which they had lately rejected the Roman proposals for wives. It was a
religious festival, and therefore safe; so visitors came from the cities
of Coenina, Crustumerium, and Antemna, and a multitude from the
neighboring country of the Sabines.
The sacrifices over, the games began. The visitors, excited by the
races, became scattered about among the Romans. But as the chariots,
drawn by flying horses, sped swiftly over the ground, and the eyes of
the visitors followed them in their flight, Romulus gave a preconcerted
signal, and immediately each Roman seized a maiden whom he had managed
to get near and carried her struggling and screaming from the ground. As
they did so, each called out "Talasia," a word which means spinning, and
which afterwards became the refrain of a Roman marriage song.
The games at once broke up in rage and confusion. But the visitors were
unarmed and helpless. Their anger could be displayed only in words, and
Romulus told them boldly that they owed their misfortune to their pride.
But all would go well with their daughters, he said, since their new
husbands would take the place with them of home and family.
This reasoning failed to satisfy the fathers who had been robbed so
violently of their daughters, and they had no sooner reached home than
many of them seized their arms and marched against their faithless
hosts. First came the people of Coenina; but the Romans defeated them,
and Romulus killed their king. Then came the people of Crustumerium and
Antemna, but they too were defeated. The prisoners were taken into Rome
and made citizens of the new commonwealth.
But it was the Sabines who had most to deplore, for they had come in
much the greatest number, and it was principally the Sabine virgins whom
the Romans had borne off from the games. Titus Tatius, the king of the
Sabines, therefore resolved upon a signal revenge, and took time to
gather a large army, with which he marched against Rome.
The war that followed was marked by two romantic incidents. Near the
Tiber is a hill,--afterwards known as the Capitoline Hill,--which was
divided from the Palatine Hill by a low and swampy valley. On this hill
Romulus had built a fortress, as a sort of outwork of his new city. It
happened that Tarpeius, the chief who held this fortress, had a daughter
named Tarpeia, who was deeply affected by that love of finery which has
caused abundant mischief since her day. When she saw the golden collars
and bracelets which many of the Sabines wore, her soul was filled with
longing, and she managed to let them know that she would betray the
fortress into their hands if they would give her the bright things which
they wore upon their arms.
They consented, and she secretly opened to them a gate of the fortress.
But as they marched through the gate, and the traitress waited to
receive her reward, the Sabine soldiers threw on her the bright shields
which they wore on their arms, and she was crushed to death beneath
their weight. The steep rock of the Capitoline Hill from which traitors
were afterwards thrown was called, after her, the Tarpeian Rock.
[Illustration: ROME FROM THE DOME OF ST. PETER'S.]
The fortress thus captured, the valley between the hill and the city
became the scene of battle. Here the Sabines repulsed the Romans,
driving them back to one of their gates, through which the fugitives
rushed in confusion, shutting it hastily behind them. But--if we may
trust the legend--the gate refused to stay shut. It opened again of its
own accord. They closed it twice more, and twice more it swung open. The
victorious Sabines, who had now reached it, began to rush in; but just
then, from the Temple of Janus, near by, there burst forth a mighty
stream of water, which swept the Sabines away and saved Rome from
capture. Therefore, in after-days, the gates of the Temple of Janus
stood always wide open in time of war, that the god might go out, if he
would, to fight for the Romans.
Another battle took place in the valley, and the Romans again began to
flee. Romulus now prayed to Jupiter, and vowed to erect to him a temple
as Jupiter Stator,--that is, the "stayer,"--if he would stay the Romans
in their flight. Jupiter did so, or, at any rate, the Romans turned
again to the fight, which now waxed furious. What would have been its
result we cannot tell, for it was brought to an end by the other
romantic incident of which we have spoken.
In fact, while the fathers of the Sabine virgins retained their anger
against the Romans, the virgins themselves, who had now long been
brides, had become comforted, most of them being as attached to their
husbands as they had been to their parents before; and in the midst of
the furious battle between their nearest relatives the lately abducted
damsels were seen rushing down the Palatine Hill, and forcing their way,
with appealing eyes and dishevelled hair, in between the combatants.
"Make us not twice captives!" they earnestly exclaimed, saying
pathetically that if the war went on they would be widowed or
fatherless, both of which sad alternatives they deplored.
The result of this appeal was a happy one. Both sides let fall their
arms, and peace was declared upon the spot, it being recognized that
there could be no closer bond of unity than that made by the daughters
of the Sabines and wives of the Romans. The two people agreed to become
one, the Sabines making their new home on the Capitoline and Quirinal
Hills, and the Romans continuing to occupy the Palatine. As for the
women, there was established in their honor the feast called Matronalia,
in which husbands gave presents to their wives and lovers to their
betrothed. Romulus and Tatius were to rule jointly, and afterwards the
king of Rome should be alternately of Roman and Sabine birth.
After five years Tatius was killed in a quarrel, and Romulus became sole
king. Under him Rome grew rapidly. He was successful in his wars, and
enriched his people with the spoils of his enemies In rule he was just
and gentle, and punished those guilty of crime not by death, but by
fines of sheep or oxen. It is said, though, that he grew somewhat
arrogant, and was accustomed to receive his people dressed in scarlet
and lying on a couch of state, where he was surrounded by a body of
young men called _Celeres_, from the speed with which they flew to
execute his orders.
For nearly forty years his reign continued, and then his end came
strangely. One day he called the people together in the Field of Mars.
But suddenly there arose a frightful storm, with such terrible thunder
and lightning and such midnight darkness that the people fled homeward
in affright through the drenching rain. That was the last of Romulus. He
was never seen in life again. He may have been slain by enemies, but the
popular belief was that Mars, his father, had carried him up to heaven
in his chariot. All that the people knew was that one night, when
Proculus Julius, a friend of the king, was on his way from Alba to Rome,
he met Romulus by the way, his stature beyond that of man, and his face
showing the beauty of the gods.
Proculus asked him why he had left the people to sorrow and wicked
surmises, for some said that the senators had made away with him.
Romulus replied that it was the wish of the gods that, after building a
city that was destined to the greatest empire and glory, he should go to
heaven and dwell with the gods.
"Go and tell my people that they must not weep for me any more," he
said; "but bid them to be brave and warlike, and so shall they make my
city the greatest on the earth."
This story satisfied the people that their king had been made a god; so
they built a temple to him, and always afterwards worshipped him under
the name of the god Quirinus. A festival called the Quirinalia was
celebrated each year on the 17th of February, the day on which he had
vanished from the eyes of men.
_THE HORATII AND CURIATII._
Romulus was succeeded by a king named Numa Pompilius, of Sabine origin,
who so loved peace that during his reign Rome had no wars and no
enemies, so that the doors of the Temple of Janus were never once opened
while he was on the throne. He built a temple to Faith, that men might
learn to avoid falsehood and to act honestly. He taught the people to
sacrifice nothing but the fruits of the earth, cakes of flour, and
roasted corn, and to shed no blood upon the altars. And so Home was
peaceful and prosperous throughout his long reign, and grew rapidly in
wealth and population. He died at length when eighty years of age, and
was succeeded by Tullus Hostilius, a king of Roman birth.
The new king loved war as much as the gentle Numa had loved peace. Under
his rule the gates of the Temple of Janus were soon thrown open again,
long to remain so. His first war was with the city of Alba Longa, the
foster-parent of Rome. Some border troubles brought on hostilities, war
broke out, and an Alban army marched until within fifteen miles of Rome.
And here took place a celebrated incident. The two armies were drawn out
on the field, and were about to plunge into the dreadful work of
battle, when the Alban king, to whom the war seemed a foolish and
useless one, stood out between the two armies and spoke in the hearing
of both.
He reminded them that the Romans and Albans were of the same origin, and
that they were surrounded by nations who would like to see both of them
weakened. He proposed, therefore, that the dispute between them should
be decided not by battle, but by a duel between a few soldiers, and that
the side which won should rule the other. This proposal seemed to Tullus
a sensible one, and he accepted it, offering as the combatants on his
side three brothers known as the Horatii.
The Alban army had also three brave brothers, of about the same age as
the Roman champions, known as the Curiatii, and these were chosen to
uphold the honor and dominion of Alba against Rome. So, with the two
armies as spectators, and a broad space between for the deadly duel, the
six champions, fully armed, faced each other in the field.
The onset was fierce, and set every heart in the two armies throbbing in
hope or dread. But after a short time a shout of triumph went up from
the Alban host. Two of the Horatii lay stretched in death on the field.
The Curiatii were all wounded, but they were now three to one, so the
remaining Horatius turned and fled, though he was still unhurt. Dismay
fell on the Romans as they saw their single champion in full flight,
pursued by his opponents. The glad shouts of the Albans redoubled.
Suddenly a change came. The fugitive, whose flight had been a feint, to
separate his foes, now turned and saw that the wounded men were lagging
in pursuit and were widely separated. Running quickly back, he met the
nearest, and killed him with a blow. The other two were met and slain in
succession before they could aid each other. Then, holding up his bloody
sword in triumph, the victor invited the plaudits of his friends, while
shedding dismay on Alban hearts.
The Romans, now lords of the Albans, returned to Rome in triumph, their
advent to the city being marked by the first of those pompous
processions which in after-years became known as Roman Triumphs, and
were celebrated with the utmost splendor and costliness of display.
But the affair of the Horatii and Curiatii was not yet at an end. It was
to be finished in blood and crime. A sister of the Horatii was the
affianced bride of one of the Curiatii, and as she saw her victorious
brother enter the city, bearing on his shoulders the military cloak
which she had wrought for her lover with her own hands, she broke into
wild invectives, tearing her hair, and upbraiding her brother with
bitter words. Roused to fury by this accusation, the victor, in a
paroxysm of rage, struck his sister to the heart with the sword which
had slain her lover, crying out, "So perish the Roman maiden who shall
weep for her country's enemy."
This dreadful deed filled with horror the hearts of all who beheld it.
Men cried that it was a crime against the law and the gods, too great to
be atoned for by the victor's services. He was seized and dragged to the
tribunal of the two judges who dealt with crimes of bloodshed. These
heard the evidence of the crime, and condemned him to death, in despite
of what he had done for Rome.
But the Roman law permitted an appeal from the judges to the people.
This appeal Horatius made, and it was tried before the assembly of
Romans. Here his father spoke in his favor, saying that in his opinion
the maiden deserved her fate. Remembrance of the great service performed
by Horatius was also strong with the people, and the voice of the
assembly freed him from the sentence of death. But blood had been shed,
and blood required atonement, so a sum of money was set aside to pay for
sacrifices to atone for this dreadful deed. Ever afterwards these
sacrifices were performed by members of the Horatian clan.
In a later war the Albans failed to aid the Romans, as they were
required to do by the terms of alliance. As a result the city of Alba
was destroyed, and the Albans forced to come and live in Rome, the
Caelial Hill being given them for a dwelling-place.
_THE DYNASTY OF THE TARQUINS._
The tale we have now to tell forces us to pass rapidly over years of
history. After several kings of Roman and Sabine birth had reigned, a
foreigner, of Greek descent, came to the throne of Rome. This was one
Lucomo, the son of a native of Corinth, who had settled at Tarquinii in
Italy. Growing weary of Tarquinii, Lucomo left that city, with his
family and wealth, and made his way to Rome. As he came near the gates
of the city an eagle swooped down, lifted the cap from his head, and,
bearing it high into the air, descended and placed it on his head again.
His wife Tanaquil, who was skilled in augury, told him this was a happy
omen, and that he was destined to become great.
[Illustration: THE FORUM OF ROME.]
And so he did. His riches, courage, and wisdom brought him great favor
in Rome, and on the death of their king Ancus the people chose Lucius
Tarquinius--as they called him, from his native city--to reign over them
in his stead. He proved a valiant and successful warrior, and in times
of peace did noble work. He built great sewers to drain the city,
constructed a large circus or race-course, and a forum or market-place,
and built a wall of stone around the city in place of the old wooden
wall. He also began to build a great temple on the Capitoline Hill,
which was designed to be the temple of the gods of Rome. In the end
Lucius was murdered by the sons of King Ancus, who declared that he had
robbed them of the throne.
There is a story of the deed of an augur in his reign which is worth
repeating, whether we believe it or not. Lucius had little trust in the
augur, and said to him, "Come, tell me by your auguries whether the
thing I have in my mind may be done or not." "It may," said Attus, the
augur. "It is this," said the king, laughing: "it was in my mind that
you should cut this whetstone in two with this razor. Take them and see
if you can do it."
Attus took the razor and whetstone, and with a bold stroke cut the
latter in two. From that time on Lucius did nothing without first
consulting the augurs, and testing the purposes of the gods by the
flight of birds, and--so say the legends--he prospered accordingly.
The cause of the death of Lucius was this. One day a boy who dwelt in
the palace fell asleep in its portico, and as he lay there some
attendants who passed by saw a flame playing lambently around his head.
Alarmed at the sight, they were about to throw water upon him to
extinguish the flame, when Tanaquil, the queen, who had also seen it,
forbade them. She told the king of what had happened, and said that the
boy whom they were bringing up so meanly was destined to become great
and noble. She bade him, therefore, to rear the child in a way befitting
his destiny.
The boy, whose name was Servius Tullius, was thereupon brought up as a
prince, and when old enough married the king's daughter. Lucius reigned
forty years, and then the sons of Ancus, fearing to be robbed of their
claim to the throne by young Servius, who had become very popular,
managed to get an audience with and kill the king.
The murderers gained nothing by their deed of blood. Queen Tanaquil
shrewdly told the people that Lucius was only stunned by the blow, and
that he wished them to obey the orders of Servius. To the young man she
said, "The kingdom is yours; if you have no plans of your own, then
follow mine." For several days Servius acted as king, and then, the
people and senate having grown used to seeing him on the throne, the
death of Lucius was declared and Servius proclaimed king. He had the
consent of the senate, but had not asked that of the people, being the
first king of Rome who reigned without the votes of the assembly of the
Roman people.
Servius Tullius reigned long and won victories, but his greatest
triumphs were those of peace. He formed a league with the thirty cities
of Latium, and is said to have taken a census of the people of the city,
which was found to have eighty-three thousand inhabitants. To strengthen
his power he married his two daughters to two sons of Lucius Tarquinius,
a well-intended act which led to a tragic and dreadful deed.
The daughters of Servius were very unlike in nature, and the same may be
said of their husbands, and they became unequally mated. Lucius
Tarquinius was proud and full of evil, while his wife, the elder Tullia,
was good and gentle. Aruns Tarquinius was of a mild and kindly nature,
while his wife, the younger Tullia, was cruel and ambitious. They were
thus sadly mismated. But the evil pair saw in each other kindred
spirits, and in the end Lucius secretly killed his wife, and the younger
Tullia her husband. The wicked pair then married, and proceeded to carry
out the purposes of their base hearts.
Servius, being himself of humble birth, had favored the people at the
expense of the nobles. He even made a law that no king should rule after
him, but that two men chosen by the people should govern them year by
year. Thus it was that the commons came to love him and the nobles to
hate him, and when he asked for a vote of the people on his king-ship
there was not a voice raised against him.
Lucius, whom his wicked wife steadily goaded to ambitious aims,
conspired with the nobles against the king. There were brotherhoods of
the young nobles, pledged to support each other in deeds of oppression.
These he joined, and gained their aid. Then he waited till the harvest
season, when the commons were in the fields, gathering the ripened corn.
This absence of the king's friends gave him the opportunity he wished.
Gathering a band of armed men, he suddenly entered the Forum, and took
his seat on the king's throne, before the door of the senate-chamber,
from which Servius was accustomed to judge the people. Word of this act
of treason was borne to the old king, who at once hastened to the Forum
and sternly asked the usurper why he had dared to take that seat.
Lucius insolently answered that it was his father's throne, and that he
had the best right to it. Then, as the aged and unguarded king mounted
the steps of the senate-house, his ambitious son-in-law sprang up,
caught him by the middle, and flung him headlong down the steps to the
ground. Then he went into the senate-chamber and called the senators
together, as though he were already king.
The old monarch, sadly shaken by his fall, rose to his feet and made his
way slowly towards his home on the Esquiline Hill. But when he came near
it he was overtaken by some bravos whom Lucius had sent in pursuit.
These killed the unprotected old man, and left him lying in his blood in
the middle of the street.
And now was done a deed which has aroused the execrations of mankind in
all later ages. Tullia, who had instigated her husband to the murder of
her father, waited with impatience until it was performed. Then,
mounting her chariot, she bade the coachman to drive to the Forum,
where, heedless of the crowd of men who had assembled, she called Lucius
from the senate-house, and cried to him, in accents of triumph, "Hail to
thee, King Tarquinius!"
Wicked as Lucius was, he was not as shameless as his wife, and sternly
bade her to go home. She obeyed, taking the same street as her father
had followed. Soon reaching the spot where the bleeding body of the old
king lay stretched across the way, the coachman drew up his horses and
pointed out to Tullia the dreadful spectacle.
"Drive on," she harshly commanded. "I cannot," he replied. "The street
is too narrow to pass without crushing the king's body." "Drive on," she
again fiercely ordered, and the coachman did so. Tullia went to her home
with her father's blood upon the wheels of her chariot, and with the
execration of all good men upon her head. And thus it was that Lucius
Tarquinius and his wicked wife succeeded the good king Servius upon the
throne.
We may tell here briefly the end of this evil pair. Tarquin the Proud,
as he is known in history, reigned as a tyrant and oppressor, while his
wife was viewed with horror by all virtuous matrons. At length the
people rose against a base deed of the tyrant's son, and the wicked
Tullia fled in terror from her house. No one sought to stop her in her
flight; but all, men and women alike, cursed her as she passed, and
prayed that the furies of her father's blood might take revenge for her
dreadful deed.
She never saw Rome again. Tarquin sought long to regain his crown, but
in vain, and the wicked usurpers died in exile. No king ever again ruled
over the Romans. Tarquin's tyranny had given the people enough of kings,
and the law of good Servius Tullius was at last carried out.
_THE BOOKS OF THE SIBYL._
While Tarquin the Proud was king a strange thing happened at Rome. One
day an unknown woman came to the king, bearing in her arms nine books,
which she offered to sell to him at a certain price. She told him that
they contained the prophecies of the Sibyl of Cumae, and that from them
might be learned the destiny of Rome and the way to carry out this
destiny.
But the price she asked for her books seemed to the king exorbitant, and
he refused to buy them, whereupon the woman went away from the palace
and burned three of the volumes. She then returned with six only and
offered them to the king, but demanded the same price for the six as she
had before done for the nine. King Tarquin heard this demand with
laughter and mockery, and again refused to buy. The woman once more left
the palace, and burned three more of the books.
To the king's astonishment his strange visitor soon returned, bearing
the three books that remained. On being asked their price, she named the
same sum as she had demanded for the six and the nine. This was ceasing
to be matter for mockery. There might be some important mystery
concealed behind this strange demand. The king sent for the augurs of
the court, told them what had happened, and asked what he should do.
They told him that he had done very wrong. In refusing the books he had
refused a gift of the gods. By all means he must buy the books that were
left. He bought them, therefore, at the Sibyl's price. As for the woman,
she was never seen again.
The books were placed in a chest of stone, and kept underground in the
great temple which his father had begun on the Capitoline Hill, and
which he had completed. Two men were appointed to guard them, who were
called the two men of the sacred books; and no treasure could have been
kept with more care and devotion than these mysterious rolls.
The temple in which these books were kept was the grandest edifice Rome
had yet known. When Tarquin proposed to build it he found the chosen
site already occupied by many holy places, sacred to the gods of the
Sabines, the first dwellers on the Capitoline Hill. The augurs consulted
the gods to see if these holy places could safely be removed, to make
room for the new temple. The answer came that they might take away all
except the holy places of the god of Youth and of Terminus, the god of
boundaries. This was accounted a happy augury, for it seemed to mean
that the city should always retain its youth and that no enemy should
remove its boundaries. And when the foundations of the temple were dug a
human head was found, which was held to be a sign that the Capitoline
Hill should be the head of all the earth. So a great temple was built,
and consecrated to Jupiter and to Juno and to Minerva, the greatest of
the Etruscan gods. This edifice, afterwards known as the Capitol, was
the most sacred and revered edifice of later Rome.
In the vaults of this temple the sacred books of the Sibyl were
sedulously kept, and here they were consulted from time to time, as
occasions arose in the history of the city when divine guidance seemed
necessary. None of the people were permitted to gaze within the sacred
cell in which they lay. Only the augurs consulted them, and the word of
the augurs had to be taken for what they revealed. It may be that the
augurs themselves invented all that they told, for the books at length
perished in the flames, and no man knows what secret lore they really
contained.
It was during the wars of Sulla and Marius (83 B.C.) that this disaster
occurred. The Capitol was burned, and with it those famous oracles,
which had so long directed the counsels of the nation. Their loss threw
Rome into the deepest consternation, the loss of the Capitol itself
seeming small beside that of these famous scrolls.
To replace them as far as possible, the senate sent ambassadors to the
various temples of Italy, Greece, and Asia Minor, within which were
Sibyls, or oracle-speaking priestesses. These collected such oracles
referring to Rome as they could find, about one thousand lines in all,
and brought them to Rome, where they were placed in the same locality in
the new Capitol that they had occupied in the old.
These oracles do not appear to have predicted future events, but were
consulted to discover the religious observances necessary to avert great
calamities and to expiate prodigies. During the reign of Augustus they
were removed to the Temple of Apollo on the Palatine Hill, and all the
false Sibylline leaves which were extant were collected and burned. They
remained here until shortly after the year 400 A.D., when they were
publicly burned by Stilicho, a famous general of Christian Rome, as
impious documents of heathen times.
_THE STORY OF LUCRETIA._
We have next to tell how Tarquin the Proud lost his throne, through his
own tyranny and the criminal action of his son. Once upon a time, when
this king was at the height of his power, he, as was usual, offered
sacrifices to the gods on the altar in the palace court-yard. But from
the altar there crawled out a snake, which devoured the offerings before
the flames could reach them.
This was an alarming omen. The augurs were consulted, but none of them
could explain it. So Tarquin sent two of his sons to the Temple of
Delphi, in Greece, whose oracle was famous in all lands, to ask counsel
of Apollo concerning this prodigy. With these two princes, Titus and
Aruns by name, went their cousin, Lucius Junius, a youth who seemed so
lacking in wit that men called him Brutus,--that is, the "Dullard." One
evidence of his lack of wit was that he would eat wild figs with honey.
Just in what way this was an evidence of want of good sense we do not
know, though doubtless the Romans did.
But Brutus was by no means the fool that men fancied him. He was shrewd
instead of stupid. His father had left him abundant wealth, to which
his uncle, King Tarquin, might at any time take a fancy, and sweep him
away to enjoy it. The king had killed his brother for his wealth, and
would be likely to serve him in the same way if he deemed him wise
enough to fight for his inheritance. So, preferring life to money,
Brutus feigned to be wanting in sense.
When he went to Delphi he took with him a hollow staff of horn, which he
had filled with gold, and offered this staff to the oracle as a likeness
of himself,--perhaps as one empty of wit and whose whole merit lay in
his gold. When the three young men had performed the bidding of the
king, and asked the oracle the meaning of the prodigy, they were told
that it portended the fall of Tarquin. Then they said, "O Lord Apollo,
tell us which of us shall be king of Rome." From the depth of the
sanctuary there came a voice in reply, "The one among you who shall
first kiss his mother."
This was one of those enigmas in which the Delphian oracle usually
spoke, saying things with a double meaning, and which men were apt to
take amiss. It was so now. The two princes drew lots which of them
should first kiss their mother on his return; and they agreed to keep
the oracle secret from their brother Sextus, lest he should be king
rather than they. But Brutus was wiser than them both. As they left the
temple together, he pretended to stumble and fell with his face to the
ground. He then kissed the earth, saying, "The earth is the true mother
of us all."
On their return to Rome the princes found that their father was at war.
He was besieging the city of Ardea, which lay south of Rome; and as this
city was strong and well defended the king and his army were kept a long
while before it, waiting until famine, their ally, should force the
inhabitants to surrender. While the army was thus waiting in idleness
its officers had leisure for feasts and diversions, and one of the
king's sons found time to indulge in fatal mischief. This arose from a
supper in the tent of Prince Sextus, at which his brothers Titus and
Aruns, and his cousin Tarquin of Collatia, were present.
While they feasted a dispute arose between them, as to which had the
worthiest wife. It ended in a proposition of Tarquin, "Let us go and see
with our own eyes what our wives are doing, and we can then best decide
which is the worthiest." This proposition hit with their humor, and,
mounting their horses, they rode to Rome. Here they found the wives of
the three princes merrily engaged at a banquet. They then rode on to
Collatia. It was now late at night, but they found Lucretia, the wife of
their cousin, neither sleeping nor feasting, but working at the loom,
with her handmaids busily engaged around her.
On seeing this, they all cried, "Lucretia is the worthiest lady." She
ceased her work to entertain them, after which they took to their horses
again, and rode back to the camp before Ardea.
But Sextus was seized with a vile passion for his cousin's wife, and a
few days afterwards went alone to Collatia, where Lucretia received him
with much hospitality, as her husband's kinsman. He treated her
shamefully in return, forcing her, with wicked threats, to accept him as
her lover and husband, in defiance of the laws of God and man.
As soon as Sextus had left her and returned to the camp, Lucretia sent
to Rome for her father and to Ardea for her husband. Tarquin brought
with him his cousin Lucius Junius, or Brutus the Dullard. When they
arrived the lady, with bitter tears, told them of the wickedness of
Sextus, and said, "If you are men, avenge it!" They heard her tale in
horror, and swore to deeply revenge her wrong.
"I am not guilty," she now said; "yet I too must share in the punishment
of this deed, lest any should think that they may be false to their
husbands and live." As she spoke she drew a knife from her bosom and
stabbed herself to the heart.
As they saw her fall, a cry of horror arose from her husband and father.
But Brutus, who saw that the time had come for him to throw off his
pretence of stupidity and act the man, drew the knife from the bleeding
wound and held it up, saying, in solemn accents, "By this blood, I swear
that I will visit this deed upon King Tarquin and all his accursed race!
And no man hereafter shall reign as king in Rome, lest he may do the
like wickedness."
He then handed the knife to the others, and bade them to take the same
oath. This they did, wondering at the sudden transformation in Brutus.
They then took up the body of the slain woman and carried it into the
forum of the town, crying to the gathering people, "Behold the deeds of
the wicked family of Tarquin, the tyrant of Rome!"
The people, maddened by the sight, hastily sought their arms, and while
some guarded the gates, that none might carry the news to the king, the
others followed Brutus to Rome. Here the story of the wickedness of
Sextus and the self-sacrifice of Lucretia ran through the city like
wildfire, and a multitude gathered in the Forum, where Brutus addressed
them in fervent words. He recalled to them all the tyranny of Tarquin
and the vices of his sons, reminding them of the murder of Servius, the
impious act of Tullia, and ending with an earnest recital of the wrongs
of the virtuous Lucretia, whose bleeding corpse still lay in evidence in
the forum of Collatia.
[Illustration: BRUTUS ORDERING THE EXECUTION OF HIS SONS.]