The historians' history of the world in twenty-five volumes, volume 05

by Unknown

CHAPTER IV. THE BANISHMENT OF THE KINGS—CRITICISMS OF MONARCHIAL HISTORY

TARQUINIUS CONSULTS THE ORACLE

[ca. 510 B.C.]

While King Tarquinius was at the height of his greatness, it chanced upon a time that from the altar in the court of his palace there crawled out a snake, which devoured the offerings laid on the altar. So the king thought it not enough to consult the soothsayers of the Etruscans whom he had with him, but he sent two of his own sons to Delphi, to ask counsel of the oracle of the Greeks; for the oracle of Delphi was famous in all lands. So his sons Titus and Aruns went to Delphi, and they took with them their cousin Lucius Junius, whom men called Brutus, that is, the dullard; for he seemed to be wholly without wit, and he would eat wild figs with honey. This Lucius was not really dull, but very subtle; and it was for fear of his uncle’s cruelty, that he made himself as one without sense; for he was very rich, and he feared lest King Tarquinius should kill him for the sake of his inheritance. So when he went to Delphi he carried with him a staff of horn, and the staff was hollow, and it was filled with gold, and he gave the staff to the oracle as a likeness of himself; for though he seemed dull, and of no account to look upon, yet he had a golden wit within. When the three young men had performed the king’s bidding, they asked the oracle for themselves, and they said, “O Lord Apollo, tell us, which of us shall be king in Rome?” Then there came a voice from the sanctuary and said, “Whichever of you shall first kiss his mother.” So the sons of Tarquinius agreed to draw lots between themselves, which of them should first kiss their mother, when they should have returned to Rome; and they said they would keep the oracle secret from their brother Sextus, lest he should be king rather than they. But Lucius understood the mind of the oracle better; so as they all went down from the temple, he stumbled as if by chance, and fell with his face to the earth, and kissed the earth; for he said, “The earth is the true mother of us all.”

Now when they came back to Rome, King Tarquinius was at war with the people of Ardea; and as the city was strong, his army lay a long while before it, till it should be forced to yield through famine. So the Romans had leisure for feasting and for diverting themselves; and once Titus and Aruns were supping with their brother Sextus, and their cousin Tarquinius of Collatia was supping with them. And they disputed about their wives, whose wife of them all was the worthiest lady. Then said Tarquinius of Collatia, “Let us go, and see with our own eyes what our wives are doing, so shall we know which is the worthiest.” Upon this they all mounted their horses, and rode first to Rome; and there they found the wives of Titus, and of Aruns, and of Sextus, feasting and making merry. They then rode on to Collatia, and it was late in the night, but they found Lucretia, the wife of Tarquinius of Collatia, neither feasting, nor yet sleeping, but she was sitting with all her handmaids around her, and all were working at the loom. So when they saw this, they all said, “Lucretia is the worthiest lady.” And she entertained her husband and his kinsmen, and after that they rode back to the camp before Ardea.

THE RAPE OF LUCRETIA

But a spirit of wicked passion seized upon Sextus, and a few days afterwards he went alone to Collatia, and Lucretia received him hospitably, for he was her husband’s kinsman. At midnight he arose and went to her chamber, and he said that if she yielded not to him, he would slay her and one of her slaves with her, and would say to her husband that he had slain her in her adultery. So when Sextus had accomplished his wicked purpose, he went back again to the camp.

Then Lucretia sent in haste to Rome, to pray that her father Spurius Lucretius would come to her; and she sent to Ardea to summon her husband. Her father brought along with him Publius Valerius, and her husband brought with him Lucius Junius, whom men call Brutus. When they arrived, they asked earnestly, “Is all well?” Then she told them of the wicked deed of Sextus, and she said, “If ye be men, avenge it.” And they all swore to her, that they would avenge it. Then she said again, “I am not guilty; yet must I too share in the punishment of this deed, lest any should think that they may be false to their husbands and live.” And she drew a knife from her bosom, and stabbed herself to the heart.

At that sight her husband and her father cried aloud; but Lucius drew the knife from the wound, and held it up, and said, “By this blood I swear, that I will visit this deed upon King Tarquinius, and all his accursed race; neither shall any man hereafter be king in Rome, lest he do the like wickedness.” And he gave the knife to her husband, and to her father, and to Publius Valerius. They marvelled to hear such words from him whom men called dull; but they swore also, and they took up the body of Lucretia, and carried it down into the Forum; and they said, “Behold the deeds of the wicked family of Tarquinius.” All the people of Collatia were moved, and the men took up arms, and they set a guard at the gates, that none might go out to carry the tidings to Tarquinius, and they followed Lucius to Rome. There, too, all the people came together, and the crier summoned them to assemble before the tribune of the Celeres, for Lucius held that office. And Lucius spoke to them of all the tyranny of Tarquinius and his sons, and of the wicked deed of Sextus. And the people in their curiæ took back from Tarquinius the sovereign power, which they had given him, and they banished him and all his family. Then the younger men followed Lucius to Ardea, to win over the army there to join them; and the city was left in the charge of Spurius Lucretius. But the wicked Tullia fled in haste from her house, and all, both men and women, cursed her as she passed, and prayed that the furies of her father’s blood might visit her with vengeance.[b]

NIEBUHR ON THE STORY OF LUCRETIA

This entire story, which Shakespeare himself put into poetry, has met with the wholesale scepticism that has visited all the Roman legends. But the incredulous Niebuhr, for one, accepts it: “It may easily be believed,” he says, “that Sextus Tarquinius committed the outrage on Lucretia, for similar things are still of every-day occurrence in Turkey, and were frequently perpetrated in the Middle Ages by Italian princes down to the time of Pietro Luigi Farnese (in the sixteenth century); in antiquity similar crimes are met with in oligarchies and tyrannies, as is well known from the history of Demetrius Poliorcetes at Athens. Cicero is quite right in saying that it was a misfortune that Sextus hit upon a woman belonging to one of the most powerful families. It may readily be believed that the woman tried to avenge herself, but the whole of the subsequent events, by which the story acquired individuality and its connection with the campaign against Ardea, are of no historical value. The king is said to have been encamped before Ardea, and to have concluded a truce for fifteen years; but Ardea was dependent upon Rome before that time, since it occurs among the towns on behalf of which Rome concluded the treaty with Carthage. All therefore that remains and bears the appearance of probability, is that Lucretia was outraged, and that her death kindled the spark which had long been smouldering under the ashes.

“We are in the same perplexity in regard to the person of Brutus. He is said to have feigned stupidity in order to deceive the king, and there were several traditions as to the manner in which he attempted to accomplish this object. His mission to Delphi along with the sons of Tarquinius, although the mission from Agylla at an earlier period cannot be doubted, seems to betray a later hand, and probably the same as introduced the stories from Herodotus into Roman history. It is further said that Tarquinius, in order to render the dignity of tribunus celerum the highest after that of the king, powerless for mischief, gave the office to Brutus. But there is every reason for believing that the whole story of Brutus’ idiocy arose solely from his name. Brutus is undoubtedly an Oscan word connected with the same root as Bruttii; it signifies ‘a runaway slave,’ a name which the insolent faction of the king gave to the leader of the rebels because he was a plebeian. How is it conceivable that a great king, such as Tarquinius really was, should have raised an idiot whom he might have put to death to the dignity of tribunus celerum—for the purpose of rendering it contemptible? Tarquinius was not a tyrant of such a kind as to be under the necessity of weakening the state in order to govern it; he might have given it power and vigour and yet ruled over it by his great personal qualities; nor did the Romans think differently of him, for his statue continued to be preserved in the Capitol.”[f]

THE BANISHMENT OF TARQUINIUS

Meanwhile King Tarquinius set out with speed to Rome to put down the tumult. But Lucius turned aside from the road, that he might not meet him, and came to the camp; and the soldiers joyfully received him, and they drove out the sons of Tarquinius. King Tarquinius came to Rome, but the gates were shut, and they declared to him, from the walls, the sentence of banishment which had been passed against him and his family. So he yielded to his fortune, and went to live at Cære with his sons Titus and Aruns. His other son, Sextus, went to Gabii, and the people there, remembering how he had betrayed them to his father, slew him. Then the army left the camp before Ardea, and went back to Rome. And all men said, “Let us follow the good laws of the good king Servius; and let us meet in our centuries, according as he directed, and let us choose two men year by year to govern us, instead of a king.” Then the people met in their centuries in the field of Mars, and they chose two men to rule over them, Lucius Junius, whom men called Brutus, and Lucius Tarquinius of Collatia.

But the people were afraid of Lucius Tarquinius for his name’s sake, for it seemed as though a Tarquinius were still king over them. So they prayed him to depart from Rome, and he went and took all his goods with him, and settled himself at Lavinium. Then the senate and the people decreed that all the house of the Tarquinii should be banished, even though they were not of the king’s family. And the people met again in their centuries, and chose Publius Valerius to rule over them together with Brutus, in the room of Lucius Tarquinius of Collatia.

Now at this time many of the laws of the good king Servius were restored, which Tarquinius the tyrant had overthrown. For the commons again chose their own judges, to try all causes between a man and his neighbour; and they had again their meetings and their sacrifices in the city and in the country, every man in his own tribe and in his own district. And lest there should seem to be two kings instead of one, it was ordered that one only of the two should bear rule at one time, and that the lictors with their rods and axes should walk before him alone. And the two were to bear rule month by month.

Then King Tarquinius sent to Rome, to ask for all the goods that had belonged to him; and the senate after a while decreed that the goods should be given back. But those whom he had sent to Rome to ask for his goods, had meetings with many young men of noble birth, and a plot was laid to bring back King Tarquinius. So the young men wrote letters to Tarquinius, pledging to him their faith, and among them were Titus and Tiberius, the sons of Brutus. But a slave happened to overhear them talking together, and when he knew that the letters were to be given to the messengers of Tarquinius, he went and told all that he had heard to Brutus and to Publius Valerius. Then they came and seized the young men and their letters, and so the plot was broken up.

After this there was a strange and piteous sight to behold. Brutus and Publius sat on their judgment seats in the Forum, and the young men were brought before them. Then Brutus bade the lictors to bind his own two sons, Titus and Tiberius, together with the others, and to scourge them with rods, according to the law. And after they had been scourged, the lictors struck off their heads with their axes, before the eyes of their father; and Brutus neither stirred from his seat nor turned away his eyes from the sight, yet men saw as they looked on him that his heart was grieving inwardly over his children. Then they marvelled at him, because he had loved justice more than his own blood, and had not spared his own children when they had been false to their country, and had offended against the law.

When King Tarquinius found that the plot was broken up, he persuaded the people of Veii and the people of Tarquinii, cities of the Etruscans, to try to bring him back to Rome by force of arms. So they assembled their armies, and Tarquinius led them within the Roman border. Brutus and Publius led the Romans out to meet them, and it chanced that Brutus, with the Roman horsemen, and Aruns, the son of King Tarquinius, with the Etruscan horse, met each other in advance of the main battles. Aruns, seeing Brutus in his kingly robe, and with the lictors of a king around him, levelled his spear, and spurred his horse against him. Brutus met him, and each ran his spear through the body of the other, and they both fell dead. Then the horsemen on both parts fought, and afterwards the main battles, and the Veientines were beaten, but the Tarquinians beat the Romans, and the battle was neither won nor lost; but in the night there came a voice out of the wood that was hard by, and it said, “One man more has fallen on the part of the Etruscans than on the part of the Romans; the Romans are to conquer in the war.” At this the Etruscans were afraid, and believing the voice, they immediately marched home to their own country, while the Romans took up Brutus, and carried him home and buried him; and Publius made an oration in his praise, and all the matrons of Rome mourned for him for a whole year, because he had avenged Lucretia well.

When Brutus was dead, Publius ruled over the people himself; and he began to build a great and strong house on the top of the hill Velia, which looks down upon the Forum. This made the people say, “Publius wants to become a king, and is building a house in a strong place, as if for a citadel where he may live with his guards, and oppress us.” But he called the people together, and when he went down to them, the lictors who walked before him lowered the rods and the axes which they bore, to show that he owned the people to be greater than himself. He complained that they had mistrusted him, and he said that he would not build his house on the top of the hill Velia, but at the bottom of it, and his house should be no stronghold. And he called on them to make a law, that whoever should try to make himself king should be accursed, and whosoever would might slay him. Also, that if a magistrate were going to scourge or kill any citizen, he might carry his cause before the people, and they should judge him. When these laws were passed, all men said, “Publius is a lover of the people, and seeks their good”: and he was called Publicola, which means, “the people’s friend,” from that day forward.

Then Publius called the people together in their centuries, and they chose Spurius Lucretius, the father of Lucretia, to be their magistrate for the year, in the room of Brutus. But he was an old man, and his strength was so much gone, that after a few days he died. They then chose in his room Marcus Horatius.

Now Publius and Marcus cast lots which should dedicate the temple to Jupiter on the hill of the Capitol, which King Tarquinius had built; and the lot fell to Marcus, to the great discontent of the friends of Publius. So when Marcus was going to begin the dedication, and had his hand on the doorpost of the temple, and was speaking the set words of prayer, there came a man running to tell him that his son was dead. But he said, “Then let them carry him out and bury him”; and he neither wept nor lamented, for the words of lamentation ought not to be spoken when men are praying to the blessed gods, and dedicating a temple to their honour. So Marcus honoured the gods above his son, and dedicated the temple on the hill of the Capitol; and his name was recorded on the front of the temple.

PORSENNA’S WAR UPON THE ROMANS; THE STORY OF HORATIUS AT THE BRIDGE, AS TOLD BY DIONYSIUS

But when King Tarquinius found that the Veientines and Tarquinians were not able to restore him to his kingdom, he went to Clusium, a city in the farthest part of Etruria, beyond the Ciminian forest, and besought Lars Porsenna, the king of Clusium, to aid him. So Porsenna raised a great army, and marched against Rome, and attacked the Romans on the hill Janiculum, the hill on the outside of the city beyond the Tiber.[b]

When the two armies charged, they both fought bravely and sustained the shock for a considerable time, the Romans having the advantage of their enemies both in experience and perseverance, and the Tyrrhenians and Latins being much superior in number. And, many being killed on both sides, fear seized the Romans; first, those on the left wing, when they saw their two commanders, Valerius, and Lucretius, carried out of the field wounded; after which, those on the right wing, who had already the advantage over the forces commanded by Tarquinius, seeing the flight of their friends, were possessed with the same terror. And all of them, hastening to the city, and endeavouring to force their way in a body over the same bridge, the enemy made a strong attack upon them; and the city having no walls in that part next the river, was very near being taken by storm, which had certainly happened if the pursuers had entered it at the same time with those who fled. But three men put a stop to the pursuit of the enemy and saved the whole army; two of these were Spurius Lartius and Titus Herminius among the elders, who had the command of the right wing; and of the younger, Publius Horatius, who was called Cocles from the loss of one of his eyes, which had been struck out in a battle; a person, of all men, the most remarkable for the fine proportion of his limbs, and for his bravery. This man was nephew to Marcus Horatius, one of the consuls, but derived his high birth from Marcus Horatius, one of the three brothers who overcame the three Albans. These three without other assistance, placing their backs against the bridge, stopped the passage of the enemy for a considerable time, and stood their ground while a shower of all sorts of weapons fell upon them, and numbers also pressed them sword in hand, till the whole army passed the river.

When they judged their own men to be in safety, two of them, Herminius, and Lartius, their defensive arms being now rendered useless by continual strokes, retreated leisurely; while Horatius alone, though not only the consuls, but the rest of the people, solicitous above all things to preserve such a man for his country and his parents, called to him from the city to retire, could not be prevailed on, but remained upon the same spot where he first stood, and directed Herminius and Lartius to desire the consuls, as from him, to order that part of the bridge which was next the city immediately to be cut off (for there was but one bridge at that time, which was built of wood, and mortised together with timber alone, without iron, which the Romans preserve even to this day in the same condition) and that, when the greatest part of the bridge was broken down and little of it remained, they should give him notice of it by some signals, or by speaking louder than ordinary; as to the rest, he told them he would take care of it. Having given these directions to these two persons, he stood upon the bridge itself, and when the enemy advanced upon him, he struck some of them with his sword, and beating down others with his shield, he repulsed all who attempted to pass the bridge; for these looking upon him as a madman, and one who had devoted himself to destruction, durst no longer approach him; at the same time, it was not easy for them to come near him, because the river defended him on the right and left, and before him lay a heap of arms and dead bodies. But standing all at a distance, they threw spears, darts, and large stones at him, and those who were not supplied with these, threw the swords and bucklers of the slain. But he fought still, making use of their own weapons against them; and throwing these among the crowd, he could not fail, as may well be supposed, to hit somebody. And now, overwhelmed with missive weapons, and having a great number of wounds in many parts of his body, but one particularly, occasioned by a spear, which, passing over the top of his thigh, pierced the forepart of one of his hips, and putting him to great pain, impeded his motion. When hearing those behind him call out that the greatest part of the bridge was broken down, he leaped, with his arms, into the river, and swimming across the stream with great difficulty (for the current, being divided by the piles, ran swift, and formed large eddies), he landed without losing any of his arms.

Horatius defending the Bridge over the Tiber

This action gained him immortal glory, for the Romans immediately crowned him, and conducted him into the city with songs, as one of the heroes; and all the inhabitants ran out of their houses, desiring to have the last sight of him before he died, for it was thought he could not long survive his wounds. And when he was recovered, the people erected a brazen statue of him all armed, in the most conspicuous part of the Forum, and gave him as much of the public land as he himself could plough around in one day with a yoke of oxen. Besides these things bestowed upon him by the public, every particular man and woman in the city, at a time when they were all the most oppressed by a dreadful scarcity of necessary provisions, gave him as much as would maintain each of them one day, the number of people in the whole amounting to more than three hundred thousand. Thus Horatius, who had shown so great valour upon that occasion, was looked upon by the Romans with all possible admiration; but rendered useless by his lameness in the subsequent affairs of the commonwealth, and by reason of his calamity, he obtained neither the consulship nor any other military command.[g]

Caius Mucius and King Porsenna

But the Etruscans still lay before the city, and the Romans suffered much from hunger. Then a young man of noble blood, Caius Mucius by name, went to the senate, and offered to go to the camp of the Etruscans, and to slay King Porsenna. So he crossed the river and made his way into the camp, and there he saw a man sitting on a high place, and wearing a scarlet robe, and many coming and going about him; and, saying to himself, “This must be King Porsenna,” he went up to his seat amidst the crowd, and when he came near to the man he drew a dagger from under his garment, and stabbed him. But it was the king’s scribe whom he had slain, who was the king’s chief officer; so he was seized and brought before the king, and the guards threatened him with sharp torments, unless he would answer all their questions. But he said, “See now, how little I care for your torments”; and he thrust his right hand into the fire that was burning there on the altar, and he did not move it till it was quite consumed. Then King Porsenna marvelled at his courage, and said, “Go thy way, for thou hast harmed thyself more than me; and thou art a brave man, and I send thee back to Rome unhurt and free.” But Caius answered, “For this thou shalt get more of my secret than thy tortures could have forced from me. Three hundred noble youths of Rome have bound themselves by oath to take thy life. Mine was the first adventure; but the others will each in his turn lie in wait for thee. I warn thee therefore to look to thyself well.” Then Caius was let go, and went back again into the city.

But King Porsenna was greatly moved, and made the Romans offers of peace, to which they listened gladly, and gave up the land beyond the Tiber which had been won in former times from the Veientines; and he gave back to them the hill Janiculum. Besides this the Romans gave hostages to the king, ten youths and ten maidens, children of noble fathers, as a pledge that they would truly keep the peace which they had made. But it chanced as the camp of the Etruscans was near the Tiber, that Clœlia, one of the maidens, escaped with her fellows and fled to the brink of the river, and as the Etruscans pursued them, Clœlia spoke to the other maidens, and persuaded them, and they rushed all into the water, and swam across the river, and got safely over. At this King Porsenna marvelled more than ever, and when the Romans sent back Clœlia and her fellows to him, for they kept their faith truly, he bade her go home free, and he gave her some of the youths also who were hostages, to choose whom she would; and she chose those who were of tenderest age, and King Porsenna set them free. Then the Romans gave lands to Caius, and set up a statue of Clœlia in the highest part of the Sacred Way; and King Porsenna led away his army home in peace.

After this King Porsenna made war against the Latins, and his army was beaten, and fled to Rome; and the Romans received them kindly, and took care of those who were wounded, and sent them back safe to King Porsenna. For this the king gave back to the Romans all the rest of their hostages whom he had still with him, and also the land which they had won from the Veientines. So Tarquinius, seeing that there was no more hope of aid from King Porsenna, left Clusium and went to Tusculum of the Latins; for Octavius Mamilius, the chief of the Tusculans, had married his daughter, and he hoped that the Latins would restore him to Rome, for their cities were many, and when he had been king he had favoured them rather than the Romans.

So, after a time, thirty cities of the Latins joined together and made Octavius Mamilius their general, and declared war against the Romans. Now Publius Valerius was dead, and the Romans so loved and honoured him that they buried him within the city, near the hill Velia, and all the matrons of Rome had mourned for him for a whole year: also because the Romans had the Sabines for their enemies as well as the Latins, they had made one man to be their ruler for a time instead of two; and he was called the master of the people, or the commander, and he had all the power which the kings of Rome had in times past. So Aulus Postumius was appointed master of the people at this time, and Titus Æbutius was the chief or master of the horsemen; and they led out the whole force of the Romans, and met the Latins by the lake Regillus, in the country of Tusculum: and Tarquinius himself was with the army of the Latins, and his son and all the houses of the Tarquinii; for this was their last hope, and fate was now to determine whether the Romans should be ruled over by King Tarquinius, or whether they should be free forever.

There were many Romans who had married Latin wives, and many Latins who had married wives from among the Romans. So before the war began, it was resolved that the women on both sides might leave their husbands if they chose, and take their virgin daughters with them, and return to their own country. And all the Latin women, except two, remained in Rome with their husbands: but the Roman women loved Rome more than their husbands, and took their young daughters with them, and came home to the houses of their fathers.

THE BATTLE OF LAKE REGILLUS

Then the Romans and the Latins joined battle by the lake Regillus. There might you see King Tarquinius, though far advanced in years, yet mounted on his horse and bearing his lance in his hand, as bravely as though he were still young. There was his son Tarquinius, leading on to battle all the band of the house of the Tarquinii, whom the Romans had banished for their name’s sake, and who thought it a proud thing to win back their country by their swords, and to become again the royal house, to give a king to the Romans. There was Octavius Mamilius, of Tusculum, the leader of all the Latins, who said, that he would make Tarquinius, his father, king once more in Rome, and the Romans should help the Latins in all their wars, and Tusculum should be the greatest of all the cities whose people went up together to sacrifice to Jupiter of the Latins at his temple on the high top of the mountain of Alba. And on the side of the Romans might be seen Aulus Postumius, the master of the people, and Titus Æbutius, the master of the horsemen. There also was Titus Herminius, who had fought on the bridge by the side of Horatius Cocles, on the day when they saved Rome from King Porsenna. There was Marcus Valerius, the brother of Publius, who said he would finish by the lake Regillus the glorious work which Publius had begun in Rome; for Publius had driven out Tarquinius and his house, and had made them live as banished men, and now they should lose their lives as they had lost their country. So at the first onset King Tarquinius levelled his lance, and rode against Aulus; and on the left of the battle, Titus Æbutius spurred his horse against Octavius Mamilius. But King Tarquinius, before he reached Aulus, received a wound into his side, and his followers gathered around him, and bore him out of the battle. And Titus and Octavius met lance to lance, and Titus struck Octavius on the breast, and Octavius ran his lance through the arm of Titus. So Titus withdrew from the battle, for his arm could no longer wield its weapon; but Octavius heeded not his hurt, but when he saw his Latins giving ground, he called to the banished Romans of the house of the Tarquinii, and sent them into the thick of the fight. On they rushed so fiercely that neither man nor horse could stand before them; for they thought how they had been driven from their country, and spoiled of their goods, and they said that they would win back both that day through the blood of their enemies.

Then Marcus Valerius, the brother of Publius, levelled his lance and rode fiercely against Titus Tarquinius, who was the leader of the band of the Tarquinii. But Titus drew back, and sheltered himself amidst his band: and Marcus rode after him in his fury, and plunged into the midst of the enemy, and a Latin ran his lance into his side as he was rushing on; but his horse stayed not in his career, till Marcus dropped from him dead upon the ground. Then the Romans feared yet more, and the Tarquinii charged yet more vehemently, till Aulus, the leader of the Romans, rode up with his own chosen band; and he bade them level their lances, and slay all whose faces were towards them, whether they were friends or foes. So the Romans turned from their flight, and Aulus and his chosen band fell upon the Tarquinii; and Aulus prayed, and vowed that he would raise a temple to Castor and to Pollux, the twin heroes, if they would aid him to win the battle; and he promised to his soldiers that the two who should be the first to break into the camp of the enemy should receive a rich reward. When behold there rode two horsemen at the head of his chosen band, and they were taller and fairer than after the stature and beauty of men, and they were in the first bloom of youth, and their horses were white as snow. Then there was a fierce battle, when Octavius, the leader of the Latins, came up with aid to rescue the Tarquinii; for Titus Herminius rode against him, and ran his spear through his body, and slew him at one blow; but as he was spoiling him of his arms, he himself was struck by a javelin, and he was borne out of the fight and died. And the two horsemen on white horses rode before the Romans; and the enemy fled before them, and the Tarquinii were beaten down and slain, and Titus Tarquinius was slain among them; and the Latins fled, and the Romans followed them to their camp, and the two horsemen on white horses were the first who broke into the camp. But when the camp was taken, and the battle was fully won, Aulus sought for the two horsemen to give them the rewards which he had promised; and they were not found either amongst the living or amongst the dead, only there was seen imprinted on the hard black rock, the mark of a horse’s hoof, which no earthly horse had ever made; and the mark was there to be seen in after ages. And the battle was ended, and the sun went down.

Now they knew at Rome that the armies had joined battle, and as the day wore away all men longed for tidings. And the sun went down, and suddenly there were seen in the Forum two horsemen, taller and fairer than the tallest and fairest of men, and they rode on white horses, and they were as men just come from the battle, and their horses were all bathed in foam. They alighted by the temple of Vesta, where a spring of water bubbles up from the ground and fills a small deep pool. There they washed away the stains of the battle, and when men crowded round them, and asked for tidings, they told them how the battle had been fought, and how it was won. And they mounted their horses, and rode from the Forum, and were seen no more; and men sought for them in every place, but they were not found.

Then Aulus and all the Romans knew how Castor and Pollux, the twin heroes, had heard his prayer, and had fought for the Romans, and had vanquished their enemies, and had been the first to break into the enemies’ camp, and had themselves, with more than mortal speed, borne the tidings of their victory to Rome. So Aulus built a temple according to his vow to Castor and Pollux, and gave rich offerings, for he said, “These are the rewards which I promised to the two who should first break into the enemies’ camp; and the twin heroes have won them, and they and no mortal men have won the battle for Rome this day.”

So perished the house of the Tarquinii, in the great battle by the lake Regillus, and all the sons of King Tarquinius, and his son-in-law Octavius Mamilius, were slain on that battle-field. Thus King Tarquinius saw the ruin of all his family and of all his house, and he was left alone, utterly without hope. So he went to Cumæ, a city of the Greeks, and there he died. And thus the deeds of Tarquinius and of the wicked Tullia, and of Sextus their son, were visited upon their own heads; and the Romans lived in peace, and none threatened their freedom any more.[b]

Before leaving the Roman monarchy it is necessary to give a critical discussion of the myths of the kings as well as an estimate of their historical value. To do this we draw upon two of the most famous students of this period, Schwegler[c] and Otto Gilbert.[d]

THE MYTHS OF THE ROMAN KINGS CRITICALLY EXAMINED

Against Schlegel[h] we have maintained the position that, in the first place, the traditional history of primitive Rome was not the work of a Greek but an indigenous product of Roman national life,[8] in the second, that in its original form it was not the product of any literary activity whatever; against Niebuhr[f] that it is not a creation of popular poetry but a result of deliberate reflection. The process by which it came into being we may conclude—conjecturally, of course—to have been as follows.

The genuine and veracious tradition of the foundation and earliest fortunes of Rome seems to have soon perished—if indeed it ever existed. This could hardly have been otherwise. It had neither been safeguarded against destruction or travesty by written records, nor cast into fixed traditional form, in song at least, by becoming the subject of popular poetry; and it was therefore in the nature of things that during the course of generations it should pass into silence and oblivion.

It is possible—it is even probable—that as far back as the decemvirate the Romans had no trustworthy information concerning the origin of their city. But they did not rest content in their ignorance. They felt the need of affirming something definite about that period and those events none the less strongly for their lack of historical knowledge, and on the foundation of dim memories and isolated legends that had survived, of proper names, monuments, institutions, and customs, they therefore elaborated a superstructure of history to supply the gaps of tradition. There is not the slightest suggestion of conscious deceit or deliberate falsification of history in this; on the contrary they held in good faith that in these tales they had made successful guesses at the actual facts and thus reconstructed the original story—a naïve proceeding characteristic of myth-invention in general.

It is obvious that a history made up in this artificial fashion would not start as the connected whole presented to us in Roman historical works; this whole, in which the legend of the settlement of Æneas is brought into circumstantial relation with the founding and history of Alba Longa, and the dynasty of the Alban kings with the founding of Rome, so that the history of Rome and that of the antecedent period from the landing of Æneas to the fall of the younger Tarquin are held together by an unbroken thread of continuous historical narrative—this systematised whole must naturally have come into existence by a process of linking and welding together, the result, in part no doubt, of literary effort and reflection.

A Roman Officer

(After Vecellio)

If we resolve this history into its component parts and examine each of these parts separately as to its origin and genetic motive, we perceive that the Roman legends and traditions take origin from very diverse sources and demand very diverse explanations.

First of all, we cannot but recognise that certain fundamental facts in the traditional history of the monarchy are historically true and derived from historical reminiscence. The memory of the most vital moments in the development of the Roman constitution survived, though much confused, down to the age of written records. Hence we cannot refuse a certain amount of credence to traditions relating to public law. The double state formed by the union of Romans and Sabines, the three original tribes, the succession in which they originated, the three centuries of knights, the successive augmentations of the senate till it reached the number of three hundred, the rise of a plebeian class,[9] the creation of the inferior gentes, the introduction of the censorship, the fall of the monarchy, and the establishment of the republic—these fundamental facts of early constitutional history are in all likelihood historical in essence, even though the circumstantial details (more particularly the estimates of numbers) with which they are adorned and the relation of cause and effect in which they are placed by the historian may be due to the ingenuity, or construed according to the opinion, of posterity. Round this stock of fact, however, has twined a luxuriant growth of fiction, a garland of legend, the origin of which we will forthwith proceed to examine, and so exhibit it in the germ.

A distinction is generally and rightly drawn between legend and myth. The legend is a reminiscence of remarkable events transmitted from generation to generation by oral tradition, especially by means of popular poetry, tinged with the marvellous by the imaginative faculty, more or less arbitrarily, though without conscious intention. The myth is the exact opposite. Where the legend has a kernel of historic fact, merely adorned and exaggerated by the accompaniment of fiction, the kernel and genetic motive of the myth is, on the contrary, a particular idea, and the facts of the story are merely the medium or material used by the poet to set forth and impress this idea.

If we consider the primitive history of Rome from this point of view we cannot deny that it contains both legends and myths, according to the definition just given. To take some examples—the heroic deeds of a Horatius Cocles, a Mucius Scævola, or a Clœlia, may rank as legends; Brutus is a legendary figure; the battle of Lake Regillus is coloured with the hues of legend; as are Coriolanus’ career of conquest, the destruction of the Fabii; and the march of Cincinnatus to Mount Algidus. On the other hand, we have a specimen of the myth in the begetting of Servius Tullius by the tutelary god of the Regia, a myth which expresses the idea that in this king the inmost spirit of the Roman monarchy was embodied.

A pure myth, again, and one which takes its rise from nature-symbolism, is the battle of Hercules (i.e., of Sancus the sky-god) with Cacus who belches forth fire and smoke. We have an instance of the historic myth in that which refers the disparate elements of Roman national character, in which military and political capacity were so curiously blended with religious superstition, to the disparate personality of the two original founders of Rome, the one a military ruler, regulating the state and military affairs, the other a prince of peace, regulating the religion and the worship of the gods.

But the majority of Roman traditions fall neither under the definition of legend nor of purely notional myth. Most of these traditions are what we may call ætiological myths, that is to say, they relate events and transactions which have been devised or worked up to explain genetically some present fact, the existence or the name of a ceremony, a custom, a cult, an institution, a locality, a monument, a sanctuary, and so forth. The ætiological myth is a curious variety of the myth proper. It is a myth in so far as the actual occurrences which it narrates are pure invention, but it differs from the genuine myth in this, that its starting-point and motive is not an idea or mental conception, but some external accident which the narrative is intended to show cause for and explain.

Ætiological myths are primitive, and for the most part puerile attempts at historical hypothesis. The early history of Rome is very rich in ætiological myths of this sort; the settlement of Evander, the presence of Hercules in Rome, the story concerning the Potitii and Pinarii, the Nautians taking charge of and rescuing the Palladium, the sow with the litter of thirty, the rape of the Sabines, the fair one of Talassius, the fable of the Tarpeian, the foundation of the temple of Jupiter stator, the legends concerning the origin of the name of Lacus Curtius, the miracle of Attus Navius, and other legends of the same character may serve as examples, and will be explained from this point of view in the course of the present inquiry. Plutarch’s[e] Roman Questions is a rich and instructive collection of such ætiological myths.

A sub-variety of the ætiological myth is the etymological myth, which takes as its starting-point a particular proper name and tries to explain the origin of it by a substructure of actual fact. The primitive history of Rome is rich in myths of this class also, and a multitude of the fables contained in it have been spun out of proper names. Such are the fables of Argos, Evander’s host; of the Argive colony in Rome; of the birth of Silvius Postumus in the forest; of the relations between the good Evander and the evil Cacus; the suckling of Romulus; the relation of the sucklings to the sacred fig-tree (Ficus ruminalis), the pretended origin of the Fossa Cluilia; the origin of the Tarquins from Tarquinii; the discovery of the head of Olus; the birth of Servius Tullius from a slave girl; the building of the Tullianum by the king of that name; the imbecility of Brutus; the burning of Scævola’s right hand; the conquest of Corioli by Coriolanus; and so forth.

There is another variety of Roman legend which must be distinguished from the ætiological and etymological myth: the legend which may be described as the mythic garb of actual conditions and events, and which thus stands midway between legend and myth. To this class belong, for example, the legend of the Sibyl who comes to Rome in the time of the younger Tarquin, and would have him buy nine books of divine prophecies for a great price, and who, being mocked by him, burns three books before his eyes, and yet another three, and finally sells the three remaining books to the king for the price she had asked at the beginning. There is not the slightest doubt that this legend is based on a substratum of fact, the fact that the Sibylline prophecies were probably brought from Cumæ to Rome under the second Tarquin, but this fact is clothed in a garb of poetical fiction; it is a cross between legend and myth. The same may hold good of the number of the Roman kings; these seven kings stand for and figure forth the seven fundamental facts of the ancient (pre-republican) history of Rome which have been held in historic remembrance.

Generally speaking, indeed, it is the peculiar and distinguishing characteristic of Roman myths that they are not, as a rule, pure inventions, not creations of the fancy, not, above all, like most of the tales of Greek mythology, myths based on natural philosophy or on nature-symbolism, but that they are historical myths, that a certain contemplation of actual conditions and real events lies at the bottom of them, either as the genetic motive or the raw material of the narrative. For instance, the figures of Romulus and Tatius are in themselves mythical; they never really existed, but the twofold sway ascribed to them has nevertheless something of historic truth in it; it is the mythical expression of actual historic conditions, the twofold state of the united Latins and Sabines. The same criticism applies to the conflict of Tarquinius Priscus with the augur Attus Navius; in the form in which it has been handed down it can hardly be historical; the story of the whetstone is a manifest fable, but none the less a real occurrence is imaged in it—namely, the historical conflict between the pre-Tarquinian hierarchy and the political ideas of the Tarquinian dynasty. In this way most of the myths and legends of primitive Roman history contain a deposit of historic memories and views, which can be recovered if each myth is traced back to the general fundamental conception which forms its genetic motive.

It should hardly be necessary to vindicate this view of primitive Roman history, and of the myth in general, against such objections as have recently been brought forward, as when the objectors profess to find the “frivolity” and the “vain and idle play of fancy” displayed in such myth-invention incompatible with the severity of manners and the practical genius of the old Roman races. These objections would only hit the mark if the myths were arbitrary and conscious inventions—if they were deliberate falsehoods. But this is so little their character that we may rather say that they are the only language in which a race in a certain stage of civilisation could give expression to its thoughts and ideas. For example, at the stage which the Roman people had reached when the myth was invented, they had no vocabulary which could have furnished them with a definite and exhaustive exposition of the conflict between Tarquinian and pre-Tarquinian ideas in the body politic; and they therefore had recourse to the expedient of symbolising that conflict and the course of events connected with it, and presenting them in a single significant scene, a scene which, regarded empirically, is certainly non-historic, but which is nevertheless at bottom historically true.

Let us imagine any people feeling, in a particular stage of civilisation, the need of contemplating its original character, of forming a mental image of primitive conditions concerning which it has no historical knowledge, of basing its political and religious traditions upon their first causes—how can it satisfy this need except by myth-invention? As long as it is not intellectually mature enough to advance the statements which, on the basis of its present consciousness, it makes concerning its origin as historical hypotheses, it must of necessity express these statements in symbolical form, that is, in the language of myth.

In the foregoing pages we have shown the various motives and modes of origin of the Roman legends and traditions. The legends which originated in these ways were then spun out and linked together by rational reflection; and thus there gradually came into being the whole body of legendary lore which the Roman historians found ready to their hand and set down in writing. The legend of Silvius Postumus, the ancestor of the Alban Silvii, may serve as an example of this spinning-out process. This Silvius, the story goes, was so-called because he was born in the forest—evidently an etymological myth. Therefore, the deduction proceeds, at the time of his birth his mother Lavinia must have been sojourning in the forest; therefore, she must have fled thither, presumably after the death of her husband Æneas; therefore, probably in fear of her stepson Ascanius.

It is obvious that all these statements are not founded upon tradition but are mere sophistries. Similarly, the legend of the reputed origin of Rome from a mixed rabble, and the tale that for this reason the ambassadors whom Romulus sent with offers of connubium (the right to intermarry) to the neighbouring peoples were repulsed with scornful words, is certainly based on nothing but deductions and conclusions drawn from the (purely mythical) story of the rape of the Sabines. Again, the despotic power which Romulus is said to have exercised in the latter years of his reign, and the bodyguard with which he surrounded himself, seem to be mere inferences drawn from the legend (likewise mythical in origin) of the tearing of his body piecemeal, to serve as an explanation for that enigmatical proceeding.

It is self-evident that it would be impossible to clear up every single point of the traditional history; but the mode of origin of the whole will have been made sufficiently plain by the foregoing observations.[c]

The Historical Value of the Myths

Although as we proceed with critical examination we find abundant confirmation of a general kind for the assumption that the names of the Roman kings correspond severally to a like number of originally independent communities, it is nevertheless necessary to note at this stage more precisely a hypothesis which is of the greatest moment and consequence in the consideration and investigation of the early history of the city.

In the first place, there can be no doubt that the Tarquins are real historical personages, and must therefore be conceived of in quite another fashion than the more ancient figures about which the various genealogical legends centre, and whose historical existence is due to personification alone. By adding their names to the older names the pontifices arbitrarily connected two entirely different elements, which ought in reality to be kept quite apart. The more ancient figures only—Romulus, Titus Tatius, Tullus Hostilius, Ancus Marcius, and Servius Tullius—are personifications, and of them only does the statement hold good that they are the representatives of diverse and distinct communities and of diverse elements of nationality. Here as everywhere legend and history meet and mingle, combining into a single line personifications and genuine historical figures, which were originally cognate but not equivalent ideas.

As for the actual names of the kings, they, as we shall presently see in individual cases, are either the real names of the communities personified, or appellations taken from special conditions which characterised such communities; they always furnish some pregnant hint concerning the nature of the people personified. It is easy to understand how these names would ultimately stand forth as the names of kings: the “king” was the representative of the community before gods and men, and the nation, if personified, would naturally appear in the status and dignity of its legal representative. Accordingly, in the several Roman kings we must recognise a representation of the several communities under kingly rule which went to make up Rome, set forth under the figure of separate reigning monarchs.

Firmly as we must now hold to the kernel of historic truth underlying these regal figures, we must not disregard the possibility that they have been disguised, overlaid, and distorted, to a very great extent, by a quantity of extraneous accessories, mythical and fictitious.

The first point which we must bear in mind is that every legend of a nation, race, or community, is intimately connected with the religion of that nation or race. In other words, the legends of the ancestral hero, the eponym, tend to be confounded with the myths of the tribal divinity in course of time, the latter are set to the credit (in part at least) of the hero of the former, and the residuum of actual historic fact in the legend becomes more and more distorted and confused. This holds good in the case of the Roman kings. In considering them therefore these mythical elements must be discarded and left out of account.

We are next confronted by a unanimous tendency to make the kings, i.e. the communities personified in them, appear as Romans from the outset. The tendency is comprehensible: the name Roman took its rise originally from one community, but in the course of time it had become an honourable title common to all, the descriptive cognomen of all citizens of the conjoint city, and every man desired to pose as a Roman of the old stock, a good citizen of the Roman commonwealth. This was, however, in direct contravention of history. The greater number of these kings, i.e. of these communities, were in reality originally strangers or even enemies, the destiny of the city had frequently accomplished itself through deadly feuds and bloody battles, and if it had been thought desirable to insist on these facts the ancient history of the city would have worn a very different aspect from that with which we are familiar. But in that case a very questionable light would have been thrown on most of the elements out of which it had grown; and hence there was naturally a general endeavour to obliterate the traces of ancient conflict. The remembrance of those old-world struggles was intentionally confused, or effaced by fictitious additions, modified by tradition, or rejected altogether.

In the only, or almost the only version in which it is known to us, the picture drawn by later hands of the most ancient history of Rome, both of the monarchy and the early days of the republic, conveys no hint, or at least only the remotest, of the crises which the city and state must have passed through before taking the form in which it became the basis of a common life and activity to all elements of the community alike. The attitude assumed by this false patriotism is chiefly responsible for the falsification of the earlier history, especially the records connected with the names of the kings.

Again, a third force which we must take into consideration as exercising a dubious influence on the form into which the primitive history of the city was cast, is the singular love of combination which distinguished the Roman priests and antiquaries. The true and original meaning of the ancient traditions, institutions, and antiquated terms in civil and ecclesiastical law, had passed out of mind in the lapse of years, and yet there was a general desire for enlightenment and a right understanding of these things. Whereupon sacerdotal wisdom, which seldom rose above the level of the schoolboy, combined with an absolute freedom, nay, an amazing boldness of arbitrary interpretation, and attempted by this means to render the ancient and extinct legends, institutions, and ideas, clear and comprehensible. From its confined point of view the most superficial likenesses, the most trivial relations, were naturally the most highly favoured in the interpretation of these traditions, ideas, and institutions. Above all, we must lay stress in this connection upon the incredible passion of these exponents for etymology. The remotest assonance of words or phrases sufficed to bring the underlying ideas into connection in their minds and to make them derive the one circumstantially from the other. These combinations and interpretations are handed on to us by antiquaries who either made them out for themselves or borrowed them as authoritative explanations and definitions from the priestly circles, or the writings of pontifices, augurs, etc. In every single case the keenest critical acumen is required to separate these manufactured combinations and deductions from the genuine deposit of older traditions.

Finally we must mention, as the last force which contributed to the distortion of primitive Roman history, the unbounded vaingloriousness of later times. The Romans suffered—the expression is permissible—from the vastness of the proportions of their state and city at a subsequent period. Theoretically they could still persuade themselves and believe that Rome had once been small, but the realisation of the fact in practical detail was beyond them. Thus, in the idea of the city current in later days, it appears as a metropolis from the time of its foundation; the peasant fights become mighty wars skilfully conducted between powerful states and cities, detail and colour being provided by the observation and technical knowledge of a later date. Before attempting to explain the conditions of the Roman monarchy we must therefore always reduce them from the scale on which they are presented to us in this picture to the scale which really befits their original proportions. The gradual rise of the city, its inception and growth step by step from the federal union of villages and settlements, must first be sought for and studied in such instances as have remained free from the influence of sacerdotal handling and vainglory.[d]