The Roman Traitor, Vol. 1

  CHAPTER XIV.

  THE WARNINGS.

  These late eclipses in the sun and moon Portend no good to us. KING LEAR.

  The morning of the eighteenth of October, the day so eagerly lookedforward to by the conspirators, and so much dreaded by the good citizensof the republic, had arrived. And now was seen, as it will oftentimeshappen, that when great events, however carefully concealed, are on thepoint of coming to light, a sort of vague rumour, or indefiniteanticipation, is found running through the whole mass of society--a rumour,traceable to no one source, possessing no authority, and deserving nocredibility from its origin, or even its distinctness; yet in the maintrue and correct--an anticipation of I know not what terrible, unusual, andexaggerated issue, yet, after all, not very different from what is reallyabout to happen.

  Thus it was at this period; and--though it is quite certain, that on thepreceding evening, at the convocation of the senate, no person exceptCicero and Paullus, unconnected with the conspiracy, knew anything at allof the intended massacre and conflagration; though no one of the plottershad yet broken faith with his fellows; and though none of the leadersdared avow their schemes openly, even to the discontented populace, withwhom they felt no sympathy, and from whom they expected no cordial orgeneral cooperation--it is equally certain that for many days, and evenmonths past, there had been a feverish and excited state of the publicmind; an agitation and restlessness of the operative classes; anindistinct and vague alarm of the noble and wealthy orders; which hadincreased gradually until it was now at its height.

  Among all these parties, this restlessness had taken the shape ofanticipation, either dreadful or desirable, of some great change, of somestrange novelty--though no one, either of the wishers or fearers, couldexplain what it was he wished or feared--to be developed at the consularcomitia.

  And amid this confusion, most congenial to his bold and scornful spirit,Catiline stalked, like the arch magician, to and fro, amid the wild andfantastic shapes of terror which he has himself evoked, marking the hopesof this one, as indications of an unknown, yet sure friend; and revellingin the terrors of that, as certain evidences of an enemy too weak andpowerless to be formidable to his projects.

  It is true, that a year before, previous to Cicero's elevation to thechief magistracy, and previous to the murder of Piso by his own adherentson his way to Spain, the designs of Catiline had been suspected dangerous;and, as such, had contributed to the election of his rival; his ownfaction succeeding only in carrying in Antonius, the second and leastdreaded of their candidates.

  Him Cicero, by rare management and much self-sacrifice, had contrived tobring over to the cause of the commonwealth; although he had so far kepthis faith with Catiline, as to disclose none, if indeed he knew any of hisinfamous designs.

  In consequence of this defeat, and this subsequent secession of one onwhom they had, perhaps, prematurely reckoned, the conspirators, all buttheir indomitable and unwearied leader, had been for some time paralyzed.And this fact, joined to the extreme caution of their latter proceedings,had tended to throw a shade of doubt over the previous accusation, and tocreate a sense of carelessness and almost of disbelief in the minds of themajority, as to the real existence of any schemes at all against thecommonwealth.

  Under all these circumstances, it cannot be doubted, for a moment, thathad Catiline and his friends entertained any real desire of amelioratingthe condition of the masses, of extending the privileges, or improving thecondition, of the discontented and suffering plebeians, they could haveoverturned the ancient fabric of Rome's world-conquering oligarchy.

  But the truth is, they dreamed of nothing less, than of meddling at allwith the condition of the people; on whom they looked merely as tools andinstruments for the present, and sources of plunder and profit in thefuture.

  They could not trust the plebeians, because they knew that the plebeians,in their turn, could not trust them.

  The dreadful struggles of Marius, Cinna, and Sylla, had convinced those ofall classes, who possessed any stake in the well being of the country; anyestate or property, however humble, down even to the tools of dailylabour, and the occupation of permanent stalls for daily traffic, that itwas neither change, nor revolution, nor even larger liberty--much lessproscription, civil strife, and fire-raising--but rest, but tranquillity,but peace, that they required.

  It was not to the people, therefore, properly so called, but to thedissolute and ruined outcasts of the aristocracy, and to the lowestrabble, the homeless, idle, vicious, drunken _poor_, who having nothing tolove, have necessarily all to gain, by havoc and rapine, that theconspirators looked for support.

  The first class of these was won, bound by oaths, only less binding thantheir necessities and desperation, sure guaranties for their good faith.

  The second--Catiline well knew that--needed no winning. The first clang ofarms in the streets, the first blaze of incendiary flames, no fear butthey would rise to rob, to ravish, and slay--ensuring that grand anarchywhich he proposed to substitute for the existing state of things, and onwhich he hoped to build up his own tyrannous and blood-cemented empire.

  So stood affairs on the evening of the seventeenth; and, although at timesa suspicion--not a fear, for of that he was incapable--flitted across themind of the traitor, that things were not going on as he could wish them;that the alienation of Paullus Arvina, and the absence of his injureddaughter, must probably work together to the discomfiture of theconspiracy; still, as hour after hour passed away, and no discovery wasmade, he revelled in his anticipated triumph.

  Of the interview between Paullus and Lucia, he was as yet unaware; and,with that singular inconsistency which is to be found in almost everymind, although he disbelieved, as a principle, in the existence of honorat all, he yet never doubted that young Arvina would hold himself boundstrictly by the pledge of secrecy which he had reiterated, after thefrustration of the murderous attempt against his life, in the cave ofEgeria.

  Nor did he err in his premises; for had not Arvina been convinced that newand more perilous schemes were on the point of being executed againsthimself, he would have remained silent as to the names of the traitors;however he might have deemed it his duty to reveal the meditated treason.

  With his plans therefore all matured, his chief subordinates drilledthoroughly to the performance of their parts, his minions armed and ready,he doubted not in the least, as he gazed on the setting sun, that the nextrising of the great luminary would look down on the conflagration of thesuburbs, on the slaughter of his enemies, and the triumphant elevation ofhimself to the supreme command of the vast empire, for which he played sofoully.

  The morning came, the long desired sun arose, and all his plots werecountermined, all his hopes of immediate action paralyzed, if not utterlydestroyed.

  The Senate, assembled on the previous evening at a moment's notice, hadbeen taken by surprise so completely by the strange revelations made tothem by their Consul, that not one of the advocates or friends of Catilinearose to say one syllable in his defence; and he himself, quick-witted,ready, daring as he was, and fearing neither man nor God, was for oncethunderstricken and astonished.

  The address of the Consul was short, practical, and to the point; and thedanger he foretold to the order was so terrible, while the inconvenienceof deferring the elections was so small, and its occurrence so frequent--asudden tempest, the striking of the standard on the Janiculum, theinterruption of a tribune, or the slightest informality in the auguralrites sufficing to interrupt them--that little objection was made in anyquarter, to the motion of Cicero, that the comitia should be delayed,until the matter could be thoroughly investigated. For he professed onlyas yet to possess a clue, which he promised hereafter to unravel to theend.

  Catiline had, however, so far recovered from his consternation, that hehad risen to address the house, when the first words he uttered weredrowned by a strange and unearthly sound, like the rumbling of tenthousand chariots over a stony way, beginn
ing, as it seemed, underneaththeir feet, and rising gradually until it died away over head in the murkyair. Before there was time for any comment on this extraordinary sound, atremulous motion crept through the marble pavements, increasing everymoment, until the doors flew violently open, and the vast columns andthick walls of the stately temple reeled visibly in the dread earthquake.

  Nor was this all, for as the portals opened, in the black skies, rightopposite the entrance, there stood, glaring with red and lurid light, abearded star or comet; which, to the terror-stricken eyes of the Fathers,seemed a portentous sword, brandished above the city.

  The groans and shrieks of the multitude, rushed in with an appalling soundto increase their superstitious awe; and to complete the whole, a pale andghastly messenger was ushered into the house, announcing that a brightlambent flame was sitting on the lance-heads of the Praetor's guard, whichhad been summoned to protect the Senate in its deliberations.

  A fell sneer curled the lip of Catiline. He was not even superstitious.Self-vanity and confidence in his own powers, and long impunity in crime,had hardened him, had maddened him, almost to Atheism. Yet he dared notattack the sacred prejudices of the men, whom, but for that occurrence, hehad yet hoped to win to their own undoing.

  But, as he saw their blanched visages, and heard their mutterings ofterror, he saw likewise that an impression was made on their minds, whichno words of his could for the present counteract. And, with a sneeringsmile at fears which he knew not, and a smothered curse at the accident,as he termed it, which had foiled him, he sat down silent.

  "The Gods have spoken!" exclaimed Cicero, flinging his arms abroadmajestically. "The guilty are struck dumb! The Gods have spoken aloudtheir sympathy for Rome's peril; and will ye, ye its chosen sons, whoseall of happiness and life lie in its sanctity and safety, will ye, I say,love your own country, your own mother, less than the Gods love her?"

  The moment was decisive, the appeal irresistible. By acclamation the votewas carried; no need to debate or to divide the House--'that the electionsbe deferred until the eleventh day before the Calends, and that the Senatemeet again to-morrow, shortly after sunrise, to deliberate what shall bedone to protect the Republic?'

  Morning came, dark indeed, and lurid, and more like the close, than theopening of day. Morning came, but it brought no change with it; for not ahead in Rome had lain that night upon a pillow, save those of the unburieddead, or the bedridden. Young men and aged, sick and sound, masters andslaves, had wooed no sleep during the hours of darkness, so terribly, soconstantly was it illuminated by the broad flashes of blue lightning, andthe strange meteors, which rushed almost incessantly athwart the sky. Thewinds too had been all unchained in their fury, and went howling liketormented spirits, over the terrified and trembling city.

  It was said too, that the shades of the dead had arisen, and were seenmingling in the streets with the living, scarcely more livid than thehalf-dead spectators of portents so ominous. No rumour so absurd orfanatical, but it found on that night, implicit credence. Some shouted inthe streets and open places, that the patricians and the knights werearming their adherents for a promiscuous massacre of the people. Some,that the gladiators had broken loose, and slain thousands of citizensalready! Some, that there was a Gallic tumult, and that the enemy would beat the gates in the morning! Some that the Gods had judged Rome todestruction!

  And so they raved, and roared, and sometimes fought; and would have riotedtremendously; for many of the commoner conspirators were abroad, ready totake advantage of any casual incident to breed an affray; but that astrong force of civil magistrates patrolled the streets with armedattendants; and that, during the night several cohorts were brought in,from the armies of Quintus Marcius Rex, and Quintus Metellus Creticus,with all their armor and war weapons, in heavy marching order; andoccupied the Capitol, the Palatine, and the Janiculum, and all the otherprominent and commanding points of the city, with an array that setopposition at defiance.

  So great, however, were the apprehensions of many of the nobles, that Romewas on the eve of a servile insurrection, that many of them armed theirfreedmen, and imprisoned all their slaves; while others, the more generousand milder, who thought they could rely on the attachment of their people,weaponed their slaves themselves, and fortified their isolated dwellingsagainst the anticipated onslaught.

  Thus passed that terrible and tempestuous night; the roar of the elements,unchained as they were, and at their work of havoc, not sufficing to drownthe dissonant and angry cries of men, the clash of weapons, and the shrillclamor of women; which made Rome more resemble the Pandemonium than themetropolis of the world's most civilized and mightiest nation.

  But now morning had come at length; and gradually, as the storm ceased,and the heavens resumed their natural appearance, the terrors and the furyof the multitude subsided; and, partly satisfied by the constant andwell-timed proclamations of the magistrates, partly convinced that for themoment there was no hope of successful outrage, and yet more wearied outwith their own turbulent vehemence, whether of fear or anger, the crowdbegan to retire to their houses, and the streets were left empty andsilent.

  As the day dawned, there was no banner hoisted on the Janiculum, althoughits turrets might be seen bristling with the short massive javelins of thelegions, and gleaming with the tawny light that flashed from their brazencasques and corslets.

  There was no augural tent pitched on the hills without the city walls,wherefrom to take the auspices.

  And above all, there were no loud and stirring calls of the brazentrumpets of the centuries, to summon forth the civic army of the Romanpeople to the Campus, there to elect their rulers for the ensuing year.

  It was apparent therefore to all men, that the elections would not be heldthat day, though none knew clearly wherefore they had been deferred.

  While the whole city was loud with turbulent confusion--for, as morningbroke, and it was known that the comitia were postponed, the agitation ofterror succeeded to that of insubordination--Hortensia and her daughter sattogether, pale, anxious, and heartsick, yet firm and free from allunworthy evidences of dismay.

  During the past night, which had been to both a sleepless one, they hadsate listening, lone and weak women, to the roar of tumultuous streets,and expecting at every moment they knew not what of violence and outrage.

  Paullus Arvina had come in once to reassure them: and informed them thatthe vigilance of the Consul had been crowned with success, and that thedanger of a conflict in the streets was subsiding every moment.

  Still, the care which he bestowed on examining the fastenings of thedoors, and such windows as looked into the streets, the earnestness withwhich he inculcated watchful heed to the armed slaves of the household,and the positive manner in which he insisted on leaving Thrasea and adozen of his own trustiest men to assist Hortensia's people, did more toobliterate the hopes his own words would otherwise have excited, than thewords themselves to excite them.

  Nor was it, indeed, to be wondered that Hortensia should be liable, aboveother women, not to base terror,--for of that from her high character shewas incapable--but to a settled apprehension and distrust of the RomanPopulace.

  It was now four-and-twenty years since the city had been disturbed byplebeian violence or aristocratic vengeance. Twenty-four years ago, theavenging sword of Sylla had purged the state of its bloodthirstydemagogues, and their brute followers; twenty-four years ago his powerfulhand had reestablished Rome's ancient constitution, full of checks andbalances, which secured equal rights to every Roman citizen; which securedall equality, in short to all men, save that which no human laws can give,equality of social rank, and equality of wealth.

  The years, however, which had gone before that restoration, the dreadfulmassacres and yet more dreadful proscriptions of Cinna and Marius, hadleft indelible and sanguinary traces on the ancestral tree of many a noblehouse; and on none deeper than on that of Hortensia's family.

  Her brother, Caius Julius, an orator second to none in those
days, hadbeen murdered by the followers of Marius, almost before his sister's eyes,with circumstances of appalling cruelty. Her house had been forced open bythe infuriate rabble, her husband hewn down with unnumbered wounds, on hisown hearth-stone, and her first born child tossed upon the revolutionarypike heads.

  Her husband indeed recovered, almost miraculously, from his wounds, andlived to see retribution fall upon the guilty partizans of Marius; but hewas never well again, and after languishing for years, died at last of thewounds he received on that bloody day.

  Good cause, then, had Hortensia to tremble at the tender mercies of thepeople.

  Nor, though they struck the minds of these high-born ladies with lessperplexity and awe than the vulgar souls without, were the portents andhorrors of the heaven, without due effect. No mind in those days, howeverclear and enlightened, but held some lingering belief that such thingswere ominous of coming wrath, and sent by the Gods to inform theirfaithful worshippers.

  It was moreover fresh in her memory, how two years before, during theconsulship of Cotta and Torquatus, in a like terrible night-storm, thefire from heaven had stricken down the highest turrets of the capitol,melted the brazen tables of the law, and scathed the gilded effigy ofRomulus and Remus, sucking their shaggy foster-mother, which stood on theCapitoline.

  The augurs in those days, collected from Etruria and all parts of Italy,after long consultation, had proclaimed that unless the Gods should beappeased duly, the end of Rome and her empire was at hand.

  And now--what though for ten whole days consecutive the sacred games wenton; what though nothing had been omitted whereby to avert the immortalindignation--did not this heaven-born tempest prove that the wrath was notsoothed, that the decree yet stood firm?

  In such deep thoughts, and in the strong excitement of such expectation,Hortensia and her daughter had passed that awful night; not without highinstructions from the elder lady, grave and yet stirring narratives of thegreat men of old--how they strove fiercely, energetically, while strifecould avail anything; and how, when the last hope was over, they foldedtheir hands in stern and awful resignation, and met their fateunblenching, and with but one care--that the decorum of their deaths shouldnot prove unworthy the dignity of their past lives.

  Not without generous and noble resolutions on the part of both, that theytoo would not be found wanting.

  But there was nothing humble, nothing soft, in their stern and proudsubmission to the inevitable necessity. Nothing of love toward the handwhich dealt the blow--nothing of confidence in supernal justice, much lessin supernal mercy! Nothing of that sweet hope, that undying trust, thatconsciousness of self-unworthiness, that full conviction of a gloriousfuture, which renders so beautiful and happy the submission of a dyingChristian.

  No! there were none of these things; for to the wisest and best of theancients, the foreshadowings of the soul's immortality were dim, faint,and uncertain. The legends of their mythology held up such pictures of thesensuality and vice of those whom they called Gods, that it was utterlyimpossible for any sound understanding to accept them. And deep thinkerswere consequently driven into pure Deism, coupled too often with theEpicurean creed, that the Great Spirit was too grand and too sublime totrouble himself with the brief doings of mortality.

  The whole scope of the Roman's hope and ambition, then, was limited tothis world; or, if there was a longing for anything beyond the term ofmortality, it was for a name, a memory, an immortality of good report.

  And pride, which the christian, better instructed, knows to be the germand root of all sin, was to the Roman, the sole spring of honourableaction, the sole source of virtue.

  Now, with the morning, quiet was restored both to the angry skies, and tothe restless city.

  Worn out with anxiety, and watching, sleep fell upon the eyes of Julia, asshe sat half recumbent in a large softly-cushioned chair of Etruscanbronze. Her fair head fell back on the crimson pillow, with all its wealthof auburn ringlets flowing dishevelled; and that soft still shadow, whichis yet, in its beautiful serenity, half terrible, so nearly is it alliedto the shadow of that sleep from which there comes no waking, fell overher pale features.

  The mother gazed on her for a moment, with more gentleness in her eye, anda milder smile on her face, than her indomitable pride often permitted herto manifest.

  "She sleeps"--she said, looking at her wistfully--"she sleeps! Aye! theyoung sleep easily, even in their affliction. They sleep, and forget theirsorrows, and awaken, either to fresh woes, as soon to be obliterated, orto vain joys, yet briefer, and more fleeting. Thoughtlessness to theyoung--anguish to the old--such is mortality! And what beyond?--aye,what?--what that we should so toil, so suffer, to be virtuous? Is it adream, all a dream--this futurity? I fear so"--and, with the words, shelapsed into a fit of solemn meditation, and stood for many minutes silent,and absorbed. Then a keen light came into her dark eyes, a flash ofanimation coloured her pale cheeks, she stretched her arms aloft, and in aclear sonorous voice--"No! no!" she said, "Honour--honour--immortal honour;thou, at least, art no dream--thou art worth dying, suffering, aye! worth_living_ to obtain! For what is life but the deeper sorrow, to the morevirtuous and the nobler?"

  A few minutes longer she stood gazing on her daughter's beautiful face,until the sound of voices louder than usual, and a slight bustle, in theperistyle, attracted her attention. Then, after throwing a pallium, orshawl, of richly embroidered woollen stuff over the fair form of thesleeper, she opened the door leading to the garden colonnade, and left theroom silently.

  Scarcely had Hortensia disappeared, before the opposite door, by which thesaloon communicated with the atrium, was opened, and a slave entered,bearing a small folded note, secured by a waxen seal, on a silver plate.

  He approached Julia's chair, apparently in some hesitation, as if he feltthat it was his duty, and was yet half afraid to awaken her. At length,however, he made up his mind, and addressed a word or two to her, whichwere sufficiently distinct to arouse her--for she started up and gazedwildly about her--but left no clear impression of their meaning on hermind.

  This, however, the man did not appear to notice; at all events, he did notwait to observe the effect of his communication, but quitted the roomhastily, and in considerable trepidation, leaving the note on the table.

  Julia was sleeping very heavily, at the moment when she was so startledfrom her slumber; and, as is not unfrequently the case, a sort ofbewilderment and nervous agitation fell upon her, as she recovered hersenses. Perhaps she had been dreaming, and the imaginary events of herdream had blended themselves with the real occurrence which awakened her.But for a minute or two, though she saw the note, and the person who laidit on the table, she could neither bring it to her mind who that personwas, nor divest herself of the impression that there was something bothdangerous and supernatural in what had passed.

  In a little while this feeling passed away, and, though still nervous andtrembling, the young girl smiled at her own alarm, as she took up thebillet, which was directed to herself in a delicate feminine hand, withthe usual form of superscription--

  "To Julia Serena, health"--

  although the writer's name was omitted.

  She gazed at it for a moment, wondering from whom it could come; since shehad no habitual correspondent, and the hand-writing, though beautiful, wasstrange to her. She opened it, and read, her wonder and agitationincreasing with every line--

  "You love Paullus Arvina," thus it ran, "and are loved by him. He isworthy all your affection. Are you worthy of him, I know not. I love himalso, but alas! less happy, am not loved again, nor hope to be, nor indeeddeserve it! They tell me you are beautiful; I have seen you, and yet Iknow not--they told me once that I too was beautiful, and yet I know not! Iknow this only, that I am desperate, and base, and miserable! Yet fear menot, nor mistake me. I love Paullus, yet would not have him mine, now; no!not to be happy--as to be his would render me. Yet had it not been for you,I might have been virtuous, honourable, happy, _his_--for winning hi
m fromme, you won from me hope; and with hope virtue; and with virtue honour!Ought I not then to hate you, Julia? Perchance I ought--to do so were atleast Roman--and hating to avenge! Perchance, if I _hoped_, I should. Buthoping nothing, I hate nothing, dread nothing, and wish nothing.--Yea! bythe Gods! I wish to know Paullus happy--yea! more, I wish, even at cost ofmy own misery, to make him happy. Shall I do so, by making him yours,Julia? I think so, for be sure--be sure, he loves you. Else had he yieldedto my blandishments, to my passion, to my beauty! for I am--by the Gods! Iam, though he sees it not, as beautiful as thou. And I am proudlikewise--or was proud once--for misery has conquered pride in me; or whatis weaker yet, and baser--love!"

  "I think you will make him happy. You can if you will. Do so, by all theGods! I adjure you do so; and if you do not, tremble!--tremble, I say--forthink, if I sacrifice myself to win bliss for him--think, girl, how gladly,how triumphantly, I would destroy a rival, who should fail to do that, forwhich alone I spare her.

  "Spare her! nay, but much more; for I can save her--can and will.

  "Strange things will come to pass ere long, and terrible; and to no one soterrible as to you.

  "There is a man in Rome, so powerful, that the Gods, only, if there beGods, can compare with him--so haughty in ambition, that stood he second inOlympus, he would risk all things to be first--so cruel, that the dug-drawnHyrcanian tigress were pitiful compared to him--so reckless of all thingsdivine or human, that, did his own mother stand between him and hisvengeance, he would strike through her heart to gain it.

  "This man hath Paullus made his foe--he hath crossed his path; he hath_foiled_ him!

  "He never spared man in his wrath, or woman in his passion.

  "He hateth Paullus!

  "He hath looked on Julia!

  "Think, then, when lust and hate spur such a man together, what willrestrain him.

  "Now mark me, and you shall yet be safe. All means will be essayed to winyou, for he would torture Paul by making him his slave, ere he make youhis victim.

  "And Paul may waver. He hath wavered once. Chance only, and I, rescuedhim! I can do no more, for Rome must know me no longer! See, then, thatthou hold him constant in the right--firm for his country! So may he defysecret spite, as he hath defied open violence.

  "Now for thyself--beware of women! Go not forth alone ever, or withoutarmed followers! Sleep not, but with a woman in thy chamber, and a watcherat thy door! Eat not, nor drink, any thing abroad; nor at home, save thatwhich is prepared by known hands, and tasted by the slave who serves it!

  "Be true to Paullus, and yourself, and you have a friend ever watchful. Sofear not, nor despond!

  "Fail me--and, failing truth and honour, failing to make Paullus happy, you_do_ fail me! Fail me, and nothing, in the world's history or fable, shallmatch the greatness of my vengeance--of your anguish!

  "Fail me! and yours shall be, for ages, the name that men shall quote,when they would tell of untold misery, of utter shame, and desolation, anddespair.

  "Farewell."

  The letter dropped from her hand; she sat aghast and speechless, terrifiedbeyond measure, and yet unable to determine, or divine, even, to what itsdark warnings and darker denunciations pointed.

  Just at this instant, as between terror and amazement she was on the vergeof fainting, a clanging step was heard without; the crimson draperies thatcovered the door, were put aside; and, clad in glittering armour, PaullusArvina stood before her.

  She started up, with a strange haggard smile flashing across her pallidface, staggered a step or two to meet him, and sank in an agony of tearsupon his bosom.