CHAPTER VIII
THE ROME OF FABIUS THE DELAYER
When the sun's first rays reddened the walls of the Capitol the life ofRome had been astir for more than an hour.
The Romans arose from their couches by the light of the morning stars.Carts from the Campagna rolled in the darkness through the tortuousstreets, slaves awakened by the crowing of the cock trudged alongcarrying baskets and farm utensils, and by the hour of dawn all thehouses had their doors thrown open, and the citizens not employed in thefields gathered in the Forum, that centre of traffic and of publicbusiness, that had begun to be adorned with the earlier temples, butstill retained broad barren spaces upon which in later centuries were torise the architectural glories of Rome, mistress of the world.
Actaeon had been in the great city for two days, lodged in an extramuralinn established by a Greek. He never ceased to marvel at this austereRepublic, existing almost in poverty, a hardy nation of farmers andsoldiers who filled the world with their fame while they endured greaterprivation than any hamlet on the outskirts of Athens.
Actaeon expected to appear before the Senate that very day. The majorityof the Fathers of the Republic lived in the country, in rustic villaswith walls of unseasoned adobe roofed with branches, overseeing the workof their slaves, guiding the plow like Cincinnatus and Camillus; whenaffairs of state called them to the Senate they came into Rome in theircarts, drawn by oxen, riding among baskets of vegetables and sacks ofgrain, and with their toil-calloused hands they arrayed themselves inthe toga before entering the Forum, transfigured by the majesty lent bytheir flowing vestments.
The Greek arrived at the Forum by sunrise, encountering the customarycrowd--venerable Romans wrapped in their togas discoursing before theyoung men and their clients on the art of prudently placing money upongood security, the chief attainment of every citizen; and hungry Greekpedagogues scheming ever, in search of a situation among that sombrepeople more apt in war than in culture; old legionaries, their graymilitary cloaks covered with patches, their thoughts yearning back tothe by-gone wars against Pyrrhus and Carthage, persecuted by debts andthreatened with slavery by their creditors, in spite of the cicatricesall over their bodies; and the plebe, with no other clothing than the_lacerna_--a short cape of coarse cloth finished with the _cucullus_ orpointed hood--the multitudinous Roman plebe, exploited and oppressed bythe patricians, ever dreaming, as a remedy for their ills, of newdivisions of the public lands which, by means of usury, gradually fellinto the hands of the rich.
On the steps of the Comitium the members of a tribe were gathered toprobate the will of one of their people who had just died. Near themilitary tribune veteran centurions wearing greaves and helmets ofbronze stood leaning on staves of vine-wood, the badge of theirmilitary rank, discussing the siege of Saguntum and the audacity ofHannibal, eager to march immediately against the Carthaginian.
On the huge blocks of blue stone which paved the Forum the vendors ofhot drinks established their great craters, beating on them with ladlesto attract the people, and at the foot of the steps of the temple ofConcord some Etruscan buffoons, wearing hideous masks, began theirgrotesque pantomime, attracting the children and the idle from all sidesof the quadrangle.
It was cold; a damp and icy wind was blowing off the Pontine marshes;the sky was gray; and from the crowd stirring about the Forum rose acontinuous and melancholy buzzing. Actaeon compared this square with thebright Agora of Athens, and even with the Forum of Saguntum in its daysof peace. The Grecian joyousness was lacking in Rome, the sweet andgladsome lightness of an artistic people, careless of riches, and ifengaging in commerce doing so only that it may live more expansively.This was a people cold and sad, devoted to lucre and to the laying up ofmoney, disdainful of ideals, with no other industry than agriculture andwar, squeezing the last grain of wheat from their lands, and robbing theenemy; methodical, lacking initiative and youthfulness.
"This people," said the Athenian to himself, "seems never to have beenas young as twenty. Even the children seem to be born old."
Actaeon with his Grecian sagacity thought over what he had seen withinthe two days; the cruel discipline of the family, of the religion, andof the State, which held the citizens in subjection; their absoluteignorance of poetry and art; that stern training, sad, based only onduty, which obliged every Roman to a long and painful obedience so thathe might some day be able to command.
The father, who in Greece was a friend, in Rome was a tyrant. For theLatin city there existed no other member of the family than the father;the wife, the children, the clients, were almost on the level of slaves;they were instruments of toil, without rights and without name. The godsheard only him; in his house he was priest and judge; he could kill hiswife, sell the children three times over, and his authority over theoffspring persisted down the years; the conquering consul, theomnipotent senator, trembled when in his father's presence; and in thisgloomy and despotic organization, more stern even than that of Sparta,Actaeon divined a latent force cradled in mystery which some day shouldburst its bonds, clasping the world as in an embrace of iron. The Greekdetested this gloomy nation, but it held his admiration.
Its stamina, the tough and bellicose spirit of the race, were revealedin the Forum. The Capitol on the summit of the sacred mount was averitable fortress, with naked and gloomy walls, destitute of suchdecorations as made the citadel of Athens glow with an eternal smile.The temple of Jupiter Capitolinus, with its low roof and its row offlattened, tower-like columns, barely rose above the city ramparts.Below, in the Forum, prevailed a similar grave and gloomy ugliness. Thebuildings were low and heavy; they seemed rather constructions of warthan temples of the gods and public buildings. The great network ofhighroads starting from the Forum was the only embellishment in whichRome interested herself, and that because of their usefulness intransporting her legions and in the hauling of farm products. From theForum the Appian Way could be seen stretching in a straight line, pavedwith blue stone, with its two rows of tombs which loomed up in thesuburbs of the city, fading in the distance through the Campagna in thedirection of Capua; and at the opposite extreme led off the FlaminianWay, which ran by the coast, extending into Cisalpine Gaul. Upon theimmense Campagna rose like fluttering red banners the first aqueductsconstructed during the reign of Appius Claudius to supply the city withfresh water from the mountains, combating thus the malaria of thePontine marshes.
But aside from these crude monuments, the extensive, gigantic city,which of itself could arm over a hundred and fifty thousand men,presented a savage and wretched aspect, almost like that of those tribeswhich Actaeon had seen on his trip through Celtiberia.
There were few houses of more than a single story; the majority weregreat cabins of round walls of stone or clay, and conical roofs ofboards and logs. After the Gauls burned Rome the city had beenreconstructed in a year, haphazard, with precipitate celerity. In somewards the houses were huddled so closely together that they barely gaveroom for a man to pass between them, while in others they stood apart asif they were country villas surrounded by small fields inside the citywalls. Streets did not exist; they were but tortuous prolongations ofthe roads which led to Rome; arteries formed at random, twisting hitherand thither, following the sinuosities of a disorderly construction, andsuddenly broadening into wide, untilled lands where the refuse of thehouses was accumulating in piles, and where crows croaked by night,pecking at the carrion of dead dogs and asses.
The crude simplicity of this city of farmers, money lenders, andsoldiers, was reflected in the appearance of its inhabitants. Patricianmatrons spun wool and hemp at the doors of their houses, clad only intunics of coarse weave, and wearing bronze ornaments on their breastsand in their ears. The first coinage of silver had taken placesubsequent to the war with the Samnites; the clumsy and heavy copper aswas the current money, and the rich Grecian objects of virtu brought bythe legions after the war with Sicily almost received adoration in thehomes of the patricians, but were viewed askance by many as amuletswhich migh
t corrupt the old sturdy Roman customs. Senators who ownedextensive territories and hundreds of slaves, paraded their togascovered with patches in civic pride through the Forum. In all Rome thereexisted but a single table-service of silver, the property of theRepublic, which passed from the house of one patrician to that ofanother when an envoy arrived from Greece, an ambassador from Sicily, oran opulent merchant from Carthage, habituated to Asiatic refinements andin whose honor banquets had to be given.
Actaeon, accustomed to philosophic arguments in the Athenian Agora, todialogues on poetry or on the mysteries of the soul wherever twounoccupied Greeks chanced to meet, strolled through the Forum listeningto the conversations carried on in that rude and inflexible Latin whichwounded an Athenian's ears. In one group they were discussing thehealth of the flocks and the price of wool; in another they were closingthe sale of an ox in the presence of five adult citizens who served aswitnesses. The purchaser placed the bronze, the value of the purchase,in a balance, and touching the ox with his hand he said in solemnaccent, as if reciting an oration:
"This is mine, according to the law of the Quirites. I have paid for itwith this metal duly weighed."
Farther on, a legionary with hungry face was adjusting a loan with anold man, offering as security his helmet and his greaves, andpronouncing the formulas of the law in such a case:
"_Dari spondes?_" (Do you promise to give?) the soldier asked.
"_Spondeo_" (I promise), replied the lender.
The bargain was closed with these sober words, the alteration of asingle syllable in which was sufficient to annul the operation, for theRomans professed a superstitious respect for the letter and formula oftheir laws.
In another group they were discussing the points which a slave must havein order to be useful to his master and to be maintained by him; andthroughout the entire Forum this grave people, austere, and withoutideals, talked only of possessions, and of the manner of increasingthem.
The attention of the Greek was attracted by a youth who, although barelytwenty years of age, displayed the gravity of an old man. His hair wasred and close-cropped; his steady gaze gave him an expression ofintelligence and penetration. He was walking slowly beside a boy whowas listening to him attentively, as to his master.
"Although your father is consul," said the red-headed man, "you must notforget, Scipio, that in order to be a good citizen and to serve theRepublic, it is necessary not only to know how to use the lance and tomanage a horse, but to know how to till the soil, and to be familiarwith the secrets of cultivation. Some day you may command our armies,and you will not only have to conquer lands for Rome, but cultivatethem, so that they will produce abundantly. Do you realize that?"
"Yes, Cato," said the youth.
"Every day you should learn a month of the calendar which ourforefathers made. With that well fixed in your memory it will be easierfor you to command your slaves promptly and well in their work in thefields. Yesterday I taught you the month of May; repeat it, Scipio."
"Month of May," recited the boy wrinkling his brows in order to betterconcentrate his mind. "Thirty-one days. The nones fall on the seventhday. The day has fourteen and a half hours; the night nine hours and ahalf. The sun is in the sign of Taurus; the month is under theprotection of Apollo. Wheat should be weeded. Sheep should be shorn. Thewool should be washed. Young steers should be put under the yoke. Thevetch should be mown in the meadows. The lustration of the crops shouldbe performed. Sacrifices to Mercury and to Flora."
"You remember it well, Scipio. Our ancestors neither had nor desired anyother science; they were satisfied with knowing what they should do ineach month throughout the year, and with this, and with valor andaudacity to hold their fields, and to take possession of the lands oftheir neighbors, they founded our city, which grows and will grow untilit becomes the greatest in the world. We are not charlatans like theGreeks, who kneel in admiration before marble puppets and argue likebuffoons about what comes after death. We are not madly ambitious likethe Carthaginians, who base their life on commerce and risk all theirwealth upon the sea. Our life is spent on the land; we are ruder butmore solid than other people; we advance more slowly, but we shall gofarther. On the soil which we tread for the first time we do not set upa tent as do others; we plunge in the plow, and that is why what Rometakes none wrests from her. Do not forget that, Scipio!"
The Athenian followed not far behind. The words of that man, old attwenty years, taught him more than his observations. Rome seemed tospeak through his mouth in that lesson given to the son of one of herconsuls.
"You should know also," continued Cato, "the domestic rules of everygood citizen. When our fathers wished to eulogize a worthy man theycalled him 'a good husbandman.' This was the highest praise. At thattime they lived on the land itself, in rustic tribes, the most honorableof all, and they only saw Rome on market days and on days of _comitia_.There are still good citizens who lead the sane life of Cincinnatus andCamillus, and only come when the Senate gathers; but war, with itsexpeditions to new countries, has corrupted many, who wish only to livein the city, and they have substituted for the old Roman home, with itsroof of boards and its simple penates, houses crowded with columns asif they were temples, and adorned with gods and goddesses which theyorder from Greece."
The austere gesture of Cato displayed immense scorn for the importedrefinements which had begun to break down the sturdiness of his nativeland.
"In the country the good citizen should not lose a day. If the weatherprevent his going out he should entertain himself cleaning the stablesand barnyards, fixing up the old utensils, and seeing that the womenmend the clothing. Even on feast days something can be done; irrigatethe young vineyards, wash the sheep, go to the city to sell oil orfruit. No time should be lost in consulting haruspices and augurs, norin devotion to cults which oblige the citizen to abandon his house. Thegods of the household or of the nearest cross-road are sufficient. Thelares, the manes, and the silvani are sufficient to protect a goodcitizen. Our fathers had no others, but nevertheless they were great."
The youthful Scipio listened attentively, but his eyes were fixed on twoyoung men from the Campagna, who with the _cucullus_ fallen over theirshoulders, were having a boxing match close to a vendor of mulled wine.The young man's cheeks flushed with emotion seeing the blows exchangedby the athletes with quivering muscles.
"If the citizen dwell in Rome," continued Cato, without noticing thisincident which failed to disturb the gravity of the Forum, "he shouldopen the door of his house at dawn of day to explain the law to hisclients, and to place his money prudently, teaching the young men theart of increasing their savings and how to avoid ruinous follies. Thefather of the family should turn everything into money and wastenothing. If he give new garments to his slaves, he should recover theold ones for other uses. He should sell the oil and the wine and thewheat which are left over at the close of the year. Let him also sellthe old oxen, the calves, lambs, the wool, the hides, the unserviceablecarts, the rusty iron, the old, infirm, and sick slaves. Let him be everselling. The father of the family should be the seller, not the buyer.Note that well, Scipio!"
But Scipio was restless and scarcely heard him.
The rustics had ceased boxing, and the youth, eager to be off, glancedfar away toward the river.
"Cato, this is the time for athletics. I must go to the bank of theTiber to train myself in running and in pugilism, and to take an hourfor swimming afterward."
"Go when you will, and heed my advice. After the lesson, athletics andthe cold bath, which harden the body, are excellent. The citizen whowishes to serve his country must not only be prudent but strong."
The boy walked away, and Cato retracing his steps met the Greek who wasfollowing him. Actaeon's appearance attracted him, and he approached.
"Greek," he said, "what do you think of our city?"
"It is a gloomy town, but a great one. I have been in Rome only threedays."
"Are you, perchance, the messenger from Saguntum, who will
appear beforethe Senate to-day?"
Actaeon replied in the affirmative, and the Roman leaned on his arm withgrave familiarity, as if he were an old friend.
"You will accomplish very little," he said. "The Senate is sufferingwith a sickness just now--an excess of prudence! I detest mad deeds; Ido not believe that Hannibal is a great captain, since I see him commitsuch an audacity as the siege of Saguntum; but I cannot tolerate insilence the faint-heartedness with which Rome proceeds in her affairs.She wishes to avail herself of all means to keep the peace. She fearswar, while war with Carthage is inevitable. She and our city will notfit in the same sack. The world is too small for the two. I am alwayssaying, 'Let us destroy Carthage!' and they laugh at me. Some years ago,when the war of the mercenaries broke out, we could have crushed herwith ease. By sending to Africa a brace of legions the revoltedNumidians and the mercenaries would have finished with Carthage; but wewere afraid; after her victory Rome occupied herself only in healing herwounds. We feared the uprising of the soldiery of all countries, so wesaved Carthage, helping her to destroy her revolted mercenaries."
"It is different now," said Actaeon, with energy. "Saguntum is an ally,and if Hannibal makes war upon her it is on account of the love whichthe city professes for Rome."
"Yes; that is why we Romans are interested in her fate; but do not hopefor much from the Senate. It is more anxious about the pirates of theAdriatic who harrow our coasts, that rebellion of Demetrius of Pharos inIllyria, against whom we are about to send an army under command of theconsul Lucius AEmilius."
"But what of Saguntum? If you abandon her how will you resist theaudacious Hannibal, who leads the most warlike tribes of Iberia? Whatwill those unfortunates say of the seriousness with which Rome observesher alliances?"
"Try to convince the Senate with your arguments. I am convinced; I seein Carthage the sole enemy of Rome. Would that they were all of my mind!They would then accept the audacious challenge of the son of Hamilcarand would declare war against Carthage, going to meet her in her ownterritory! Happen what may, we are invincible. Italy is a compact mass,and as advance sentinels of our camp, we have in the Orient Illyria, onthe side which looks into Africa we have Sicily, and in the Occident isSardinia, while the lands which Carthage dominates form an extensivebelt of nine hundred leagues which runs along a great part of the coastsof Africa and all those of Iberia; but so narrow, and peopled by so manydifferent races, that it can easily be broken. Though Rome might lose ahundred battles, she will always be Rome, but one defeat for Carthage isenough to dissolve the nation."
"If only they all thought as you do, Cato!"
"If the Senate thought as I do it would scorn Demetrius of Pharos, andits legions would have been in Saguntum days ago. Perhaps by such meansa danger would be avoided, because who knows where that young Africanwill go, and what he may not dare if he succeed in conquering withouthindrance a city allied to Rome! That is why I, a free citizen, givelessons as a pedagogue, as you have just witnessed. That boy is the sonof the consul Publius Cornelius Scipio, and all the virtues of hisfamily are revived in him. Perhaps he may be the one destined to barHannibal's way, to destroy the insolent power of that Carthage againstwhom we are ever clashing."
They continued strolling through the Forum discussing the customs ofRome, and arguing warmly as they contrasted them with those of Athens.Then the austere Roman, having to hold conference with variouspatricians in regard to private affairs, to which he attended with greatscrupulousness, said farewell to the Greek.
On being left alone Actaeon realized that he was hungry. It would be sometime before the Senate would assemble, and wearied of the noisy stir inthe Forum he passed on, walking around the base of the Capitoline,following a street broader than the others, lined with stone buildings,which displayed through their open doors the relative abundance ofpatrician families.
He entered a bakery and rapped on the stone of the deserted counter withan _as_. A plaintive voice answered from a kind of cavern. The Greekpeered into the gloomy grotto and saw a mill for grinding wheat, andyoked to it a man, who was turning it with great effort.
The slave came out almost naked, wiping off the sweat which wasstreaming down his forehead, and taking the money offered by the Greekhanded him a round loaf. Then he stood looking Actaeon over withcuriosity.
"Do you own the bakery?" Actaeon asked.
"I am nothing but a slave," he replied sadly. "My master had to go tothe Forum to see the dealers in wheat. You are a Greek, are you not?"
Before Actaeon deigned to answer, he hastened to add with melancholypride:
"I have not always been a slave. I have been in this condition but ashort time, and before I lost my freedom my fervent desire was to visityour country. O Athens! The city where poets are gods!"
He recited in Greek some verses from the Prometheus of AEschylus,astonishing Actaeon by the purity of his accent and by the expressionwhich he communicated to his words.
"Can it be that here in Rome your masters dedicate you to poesy?" askedthe Athenian, laughing.
"I was a poet before I became a slave. My name is Plautus."
Glancing around as if fearing to be surprised by some member of hismaster's family he continued talking, happy at being able to freehimself from the torment of the mill.
"I have written comedies. I tried to establish the theatre in Rome,which is almost a cult among your people. The Romans have littlesensibility to poetry. They love farces; a tragedy that would move theHellenes to tears, leaves them cold; one of Aristophanes' comedies wouldput them to sleep. They, Athenian, enjoy only the Etruscan buffoons,those grotesque comedians of the farces which they call Atellanae, andthe hideous maskers with sharp teeth and deformed heads who stalk in thetriumphal processions growling their obscenities. They would stone theheroes of your tragedies, while on the other hand, they howl withenthusiasm at the entry of a victorious consul when the soldiers passdisguised in rams' skins, wearing tufts of bristling horsehair, and theylaugh at seeing them avenge themselves for their humble condition byinsulting the conqueror behind his triumphal car. I wrote comedies forthese people, and I write them still in moments when my master ceasesbeating me to make me turn the mill. The patricians, the free citizens,do not enjoy seeing themselves personated in the scene. Here they wouldrend Aristophanes to pieces, he who represented upon the stage the mostprominent men of Athens. My heroes are slaves, foreigners, andmercenaries, and they make the audience laugh. I have finished a comedythere within that den, ridiculing the fanfare of the warriors. I wouldrecite it if I did not fear that my master might return at any moment."
"But how have you fallen into such a wretched situation after havingbeen the entertainer of your people?"
"I committed the madness of founding the first theatre in Rome, inimitation of those in Greece. It was a wooden enclosure on the outskirtsof the city. I borrowed money; I contracted debts; the populace came tolaugh, but they gave little. I was ruined, and the wise laws of Romecondemn him who cannot pay to become the slave of his creditor. Thisbaker who used to laugh at my comedies, and who gladly loaned me sacksof copper, is now getting even for his former show of admiration bymaking me turn his mill, because I cost less than an ass. Every peal oflaughter in the past is transformed into a blow with a stick dealtacross my back. The fate of poets! You Greeks also thanked AEschylus forhis verses by pelting him with stones, yet he was ever a freeman."
Plautus became silent, but after a melancholy smile he added:
"I trust in the future. I shall not always have to be a slave; perhaps Ishall find someone who will give me back my liberty. The Romans who makewar and see new countries return with milder customs and with a love ofart. I shall be free, I will found a new theatre, andthen,----then----"
Hope shone in his glance, as if he saw the realization of the dreamswith which he embellished his gloomy den, while, panting like a beast,he turned the enormous cone of stone.
A noise was heard from within the house, and before his master'schildren could see
him Plautus ran to yoke himself again to themill-spindle, while the Greek left the place, astounded by this episode.
What a people this, which converted its debtors into slaves and turnedits poets into beasts of burden!
The Greek sauntered back through the Forum munching his loaf of bread.He was waiting for the Senate to assemble, and to pass away the time heclimbed to the crest of the Palatine Hill, the sacred ground which wasthe cradle of Rome. He visited the Lupercal Grotto where Romulus andRemus had been suckled by the she-wolf. At the entrance to the narrowcave, denuded by the winter, the Ruminal fig tree extended its nakedbranches, the famous tree in the shade of which the twin founders of thecity had frolicked. Near it on a granite pedestal stood the wolf, indark and lustrous bronze, the work of an Etruscan artist, with thehideous half-open fauces, and her belly bristling with a double row ofgleaming teats to which two naked children clung, sprawling on theground.
From this height Actaeon looked down upon the broad city, a wave of roofsbetween the seven hills, invading the heights and dispersing through thedeep valleys. Almost at the side of the Palatine rose the Capitolium,the great fortress of Rome, on the naked crags of the Tarpeian rock, andthe Greek passed from the summit of one to that of the other to examinethe temple of Jupiter Capitolinus, more famous than beautiful.
He turned his back on the rude temple of Mars, which occupied thehighest point of the Palatine, and following a path between abrupt rockshe crossed to the Capitoline. On his way he met the priests of Jupiter,walking with sacerdotal rigidity as if ever offering sacrifices to theirgod. He saw the vestals wrapped in their flowing white veils, marchingwith a sturdy tread. Some _milites_ were climbing up to the temple ofMars, their broad breasts encased in overlapping bands of copper, theirbare thighs covered by strips of wool hanging from the waist; one handresting on the pommel of their short swords while they talked withenthusiasm of the coming Illyrian campaign, without thought of thesituation of their allies in Iberia.
Actaeon entered the sacred precincts of the Capitoline, surrounded byfrowning ramparts. It was the ancient mount Tarpeius, with its twosummits united by an extensive flat. The higher part which lay towardthe north was occupied by the Arx or citadel of Rome; on the south wasthe temple of Jupiter Capitolinus, surrounded by massive columns.
The Greek entered the citadel, famous for its resistance during theinvasion of the Gauls. On the margin of a pool before the templeshuddled within the strong enclosure he saw the sacred birds--the geesewhich with their cackling in the silence of the night had protected Romefrom the surprise of the invaders. Then he crossed the depression whichdivides the hill into two parts, and approached the great fane of Rome.
A stairway of a hundred steps led to the temple, constructed in thetime of the last Tarquin in honor of the three divinities ofRome--Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva. The building consisted of three_cellae_ or parallel sanctuaries, with three doors opening beneath thesame pediment. The one in the centre was sacred to Jupiter, and thesmaller ones on either side to the two goddesses. A triple row ofcolumns sustained the pediment, which was decorated with prancing horsescoarsely sculptured. Two rows of columns ran down the sides of thetemple forming a portico, in the shade of which the eldest Romancitizens strolled, discussing the affairs of the city.
The temple had been built by artists called from Etruria, and under thecolonnade were statues acquired by the expeditions to Sicily and as aresult of the many wars carried on by Rome. This rude nation wasincapable of producing artists, but it had soldiers to supply it withart by means of war and loot.
The Athenian entered the sanctuary in the centre dedicated to Jupiter,and he saw the image of the god in terra cotta, holding a golden lancein his right hand. Before him continually smoked the Altar ofSacrifices. On leaving the temple he glanced at the gnomon or sundial,which at that height marked the time for all Rome.
It was now the hour to go to the Senaculum, the ancient building at thefoot of the Tarpeian peak between the Capitolium and the Forum, whichmany years later was converted into the temple of Concord. On the stepswhich gave access to the temple Actaeon met the two legates sent bySaguntum before the siege began; two old farmers who had gone away fromhome for the first time, and who seemed to be dazed by their longmonths of waiting in Rome, with their audiences which never terminated,and with their interviews and resultless supplications. The twoperturbed Saguntines, impotent before a city which never respondeddefinitely to their words, followed like automata the self-confidentGreek who went everywhere as if he were in his own house, and who spokemany languages as if the entire world were his country.
The senators began to arrive. Some came from their business in the cityand presented themselves garbed in the white toga with purple border,followed by their clients who turned their gaze in all directions as ifto attract public attention to their majestic protector. Others camefrom the country, drawing up their carts before the steps of theSenaculum, and, handing the reins to a slave, ascended to the templewith their togas flung over their arms, dressed in the short cloak ofcoarse wool worn by farmers, and emitting the odors of their stables andcrops. They were mature men who displayed in the firmness of theirstrong muscles the activity of their life of continued struggle with thesoil and with enemies; old men with long beards and wizened faces,tremulous with age, who still revealed in their unflinching eyesreliance on their departing strength. The crowd from the Forum, surgingtoward the steps of the Senaculum, watched them with admiration andrespect. They were the fathers of the Republic, the heads of Rome.
The two legates from Saguntum walked up the temple steps. Under thecolumns which sustained the pediment were numberless piles of loot fromthe last wars, deposited by the conquerors as they paraded through theForum before the multitude, which had hailed them, waving branches oflaurel. Actaeon saw shields pierced by iron swords, rusted by blood;war-chariots with broken tongues, the gilded wheels bespattered with themud of battles. They were spoils from the war with the Samnites. Fartheron, standing along the wall, a row of hideous wooden dwarfs, dyed redand blue, stripped from the prows of Carthaginian ships after the greatvictory at the AEgates Islands; iron bars which had closed the gates ofmany cities conquered by the Romans; the golden standards decorated withfantastic animals which led the troops of Pyrrhus; the enormous tusks ofthe elephants which this descendent of Achilles had marched against thelegions of Rome; the horned or eagle-winged helmet of the Ligurians; thedarts of Alpine tribes, and, beside the door, as a trophy of honor, thearmor of the glorious Camillus, paraded in triumph by the city afterthis great Roman had driven the Gauls from the Capitol. Along the walls,as a strange decoration, hung a long dark tissue, crisp as parchment. Itwas the skin of the great serpent which for a whole day held back thearmy of Atilius Regulus, when on his expedition to Africa he wasmarching to the conquest of Carthage. The horrible monster, insensibleto arrows, devoured many soldiers before it succumbed beneath a showerof stones, and Regulus sent the reptile's skin to Rome as a testimony ofthe adventure.
The envoys from Saguntum had a tedious wait before a centurion usheredthem into the Senaculum.
The Greek, sweeping his glance over the semicircle, was perturbed by themajesty of the assemblage. He recalled the entrance of the Gauls intoRome; the stupefaction of the barbarians in the presence of thoseElders, firm in their marble chairs, wrapped like phantoms in theirsnowy garments which left uncovered only their silvery beards; theirivory staves held with a divine majesty, revealed again in the gleamfrom their steady eyes. None but barbarians intoxicated with blood-lustwould dare to assault men of such patriarchal dignity.
They numbered more than two hundred. Between them were vacant seats ofsenators unable to attend, and over the concentric rows of marble chairsthe white togas spread out like newly fallen snow upon a crust of ice.Behind them stood a row of columns in a semicircle, sustaining thecupola through which filtered a crepuscular light which seemed to favormeditation and concentration of the mind. A low stone balustradesurrounded the semicircle, and beyond it
were grouped important citizenswho had not the investiture of senators. In the centre the barrier wasbroken by a square pedestal sustaining the bronze she-wolf with thetwins hanging to her dugs, and on the base in great letters, the deviceof supreme authority in Rome: "S.P.Q.R." A tripod sustained a brazierbefore the pedestal, and over the embers floated a blue cloud ofincense.
The three legates seated themselves in marble chairs near the image ofthe wolf, before the triple row of white and motionless men.
Some rested their chins in their hands as if to hear better.
They might speak; the Senate would hear them; and Actaeon, moved by thesupplicating glances of his two companions, arose. In his mindimpressions did not linger long; he had recovered from the emotionproduced at first by the majesty of the assemblage.
He spoke deliberately, taking care, after the manner of a true Greek, toavoid lapses of style in expressing himself in that rude tongue,endeavoring to give to his words the emotion which he wished to inspirein the representatives of Rome. He described the desperate resistance ofSaguntum, and her confidence in the support of the Republic, that blindfaith which had inspired her people to hurl themselves outside the wallsand repulse the enemy at the mere announcement that the Roman fleet hadappeared upon the horizon. When he left the city it still had suppliesfor subsistence and courage to defend itself. But much time had elapsedsince then--nearly two whole months. The ambassador had been compelledto make his way amidst adventures and perils, sometimes by sea, takingadvantage of the routes of the merchant ships, again on foot along thecoasts, and at this moment the situation of the city must be desperate.Saguntum would fall if they did not go to her succor, and what aresponsibility for Rome if she abandoned her protege after the latterhad drawn Hannibal's enmity upon her for wishing to be Roman! How couldother nations rely on the friendship of Rome when they knew the sad endof Saguntum!
The Greek ceased speaking, and the painful silence which fell over theSenate revealed the profound impression his words had made.
Then Lentulus, an aged senator, arose to speak. The sharp voice of theold man penetrated the silence as he told of the origin of Saguntum,which if it were Grecian on account of the merchants of Zacynthus havingestablished their factories there, was also Italian on account of theRutulians from Ardea who had gone thither in remote times to found acolony. Moreover Saguntum was the friend of Rome. To be more faithful toher she had beheaded some of her citizens who had worked in the cause ofCarthage. What audacity for that young man, a son of Hamilcar, to ignorethe treaties of Rome with Hasdrubal, and to dare to raise his swordagainst a city friendly to the Romans! If Rome looked with indifferenceupon this offense Hamilcar's lion-cub would grow in temerity, for youthknows no bridle when it sees its imprudence crowned by success.Moreover, the great city could not tolerate such daring. Outside, at thedoor of the Senaculum were the glorious trophies of war as ademonstration that he who revolted against Rome should fall conquered ather feet. They must be inexorable with the enemy and faithful to theally; they must carry the war into Iberia and destroy the reckless onewho defied Rome.
All the choler of the gloomy city, warlike and severe, spoke through themouth of the aged man, who extended his rigid arm above his companions'heads, threatening the invisible enemy. The soldierly vigor of theveteran of ancient wars against the Samnites and against Pyrrhus, wasaroused for a moment in the weak old man, and thrilled his muscles andcaused his eyes to flash.
Actaeon's two companions, who did not understand the Latin tongue,nevertheless divined Lentulus' words, and they were filled with emotionby the eulogy of the self-abnegation of their city. Tears streamed fromtheir eyes, they rent the dark mantles in which they were clad as solemnmessengers, and throwing themselves to the floor to express thevehemence of their grief after the custom of the ancients, they shouted,sobbing:
"Save us! Save us!"
The desperation of the two old men, and the dignified attitude of theGreek, who, frowning and silent, seemed the personification of Saguntumawaiting the fulfillment of pledges, moved the Senate and the multitudethat surged outside the balustrade of the she-wolf. All were agitatedand were exchanging words of indignation. Beneath the cupola of theSenaculum resounded a disorderly buzzing, the echo of a thousand mingledvoices. They clamored for the Senate to declare instant war againstCarthage, to call out the legions, to make ready the ships, to embark anexpedition in the port of Ostia, and to hurl Rome against the camp ofHannibal.
A senator called for silence that he might speak. It was Fabius, one ofthe most famous patricians of Rome, the descendent of those threehundred heroes of that famous gens destroyed in a single day fightingfor Rome on the banks of the Cremera. Prudence spoke through his mouth;his counsels were ever followed as being wisest; on this account theSenate recovered its calmness as soon as it saw that he had arisen tohis feet.
With reposeful language, after lamenting the situation of the alliedcity, he said that it was not known whether it were Carthage that hadbroken into hostilities against Saguntum, or whether Hannibal had doneso on his own account. A war in Iberia would be a grave matter for Rome,now that she was going to begin a nearer struggle with the rebelDemetrius of Pharos. It would be advisable to send an embassy toHannibal in his camp, and if the African refused to raise the siege, letit go to Carthage to ask if its rulers approved the chieftain's conduct,and to demand that the latter be turned over to Rome in punishment forhis audacity.
This solution seemed to please the Senate. Those who a few momentsbefore had shown themselves warlike and uncompromising bowed their headsas if approving the words of Fabius. The thought of the insurrection inIllyria counseled prudence to the most violent. They remembered theenemy who was rising almost at their doors across the Adriatic, and who,with their fleets given over to piracy, might attempt an invasion ofRoman territory. Egoism caused them to look upon this enterprise as moreimportant than any oath, and in order to deceive themselves and to hidetheir own weakness, they exaggerated the importance of the embassy toHannibal's camp declaring that the African would raise the siege and askpardon of Rome as soon as he saw the Senatorial legates arrive.
Actaeon received this change on the part of the assemblage with visiblesigns of impatience.
"I know Hannibal well," he shouted. "He will not obey you; he will scoffat you! If you do not send an army the journey of your legates will beuseless!"
But the senators, eager to conceal the weakness to which their egoismdrove them, protested loudly against the words of Actaeon. Who spoke ofscoffing at the Republic of Rome? Who imagined that Hannibal wouldscorn the envoys of the Senate? Let the stranger maintain silence--hewho was not even a son of the city in whose name he spoke.
Actaeon bowed his head. Then, turning to his aged companions, who did notunderstand the resolution of the Senate, he murmured: "Our city is lost!Rome fears to declare war against Hannibal and delays the clash of arms.When they become ready to help us Saguntum will no longer exist!"
The three Saguntine legates received an order to retire. The senatorswere about to appoint two patricians who should go as envoys of Rome.
As they left the Senaculum the eldest of the senators addressed Actaeon:
"Tell your companions to prepare for the journey. To-morrow at sunsetyou will embark with the legates of the Senate in the port of Ostia."