Project Gutenberg's Historic Tales, Volume 11 (of 15), by Charles Morris This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: Historic Tales, Volume 11 (of 15) The Romance of Reality Author: Charles Morris Release Date: June 1, 2008 [EBook #25673] Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HISTORIC TALES, VOLUME 11 (OF 15) *** Produced by David Kline, Greg Bergquist and The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net CASTLE S. ANGELO. CASTLE S. ANGELO. Edition d'Élite 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 Æquians 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 Cæsar and the Pirates 204 Cæsar and Pompey 208 The Assassination of Cæsar 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 Cæsar 218 Antony's Oration Over Cæsar 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 Æneas, 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 Æneas, 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 [Pg 7] [Pg 8] [Pg 9] [Pg 10] 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. [Pg 10] [Pg 11] [Pg 12] [Pg 13] 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 Asylæus,—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 Cœnina, 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 Cœnina; 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 [Pg 14] [Pg 15] [Pg 16] [Pg 17] 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. ROME FROM THE DOME OF ST. PETER'S. 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 [Pg 18] [Pg 19] 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. [Pg 20] [Pg 21] [Pg 22] [Pg 23] 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 Cælial 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. [Pg 24] [Pg 25] [Pg 26] THE FORUM OF ROME. 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. [Pg 27] [Pg 28] [Pg 29] 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 Cumæ, 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 [Pg 30] [Pg 31] [Pg 32] 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. [Pg 33] [Pg 34] [Pg 35] [Pg 36] [Pg 37] 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. [Pg 38] [Pg 39] [Pg 40] BRUTUS ORDERING THE EXECUTION OF HIS SONS....