[No date assignable.]
It happened that, in each of the armies, there were three twin brothers, between whom there was no disparity, in point of age, or of strength. That their names were Horatius and Curiatius, we have sufficient certainty, for no occurrence of antiquity has ever been more universally noticed; yet, notwithstanding that the fact is so well ascertained, there still remains a doubt respecting the names, to which nation the Horatii belonged, and to which the Curiatii; authors are divided on the point; finding, however, that the greater number concur in calling the Horatii Romans, I am inclined to follow them. To these three brothers, on each side, the kings proposed that they should support, by their arms, the honor of their respective countries, informing them that the sovereignty was to be enjoyed by that nation whose champions should prove victorious in the combat. No reluctance was shown on their parts, and time and place were appointed. Previous to the fight a league was made between the Romans and Albans, on these conditions: That, whichever of the two nations should, by its champions, obtain victory in the combat, that nation should, without further dispute, possess sovereign dominion over the other.
The league being concluded, the three brothers, on each side, pursuant to the agreement, took arms, the friends of each putting them in mind that “the gods of their country, the country itself, the whole of their countrymen, whether at home or in the army, rested on their prowess the decision of their fate.” Naturally bold and courageous, and highly animated, beside, by such exhortations, they advanced into the midst, between the two armies. The two armies sat down before their respective camps, free from all apprehensions of immediate danger to themselves, but not from deep anxiety, no less than sovereign power being at stake, and depending on the bravery and success of so small a number. With all the eagerness, therefore, of anxious suspense, they fixed their attention on an exhibition which was far, indeed, from being a matter of mere amusement. The signal being given, the three youths, who had been drawn upon each side, as in battle array, their breasts animated with the magnanimous spirits of whole armies, rushed forward to the fight, intent on mutual slaughter, utterly thoughtless of their own personal peril, and reflecting that, on the event of the contest, depended the future fate and fortune of their respective countries. On the first onset, as soon as the clash of their arms and the glittering of their swords were perceived, the spectators shuddered with excess of horror, and their hopes being, as yet, equally balanced, their voices were suppressed, and even their breath was suspended. Afterward, in the progress of the combat, during which not only the activity of the young men’s limbs, and the rapid motions of their arms, offensive and defensive, but wounds also, and blood, were exhibited to view, the three Albans were wounded, and two of the Romans fell lifeless, one over the other. On their fall the Alban army set up a shout of joy, while the Roman legions were in a state of the most painful anxiety, almost bereft of hope, and reduced to a state of despair by the situation of their champion, who was now surrounded by the three Curiatii. It happened that he was unhurt, so that, though singly he was by no means a match for them altogether, yet was he confident of success against each of them, separately. In order, therefore, to avoid their joint attack, he betook himself to flight, judging that they would pursue with such different degrees of speed as their wounds would allow. He had now fled to some distance from the place where they had fought, when, looking back, he perceived that there were large intervals between the pursuers, and that one was at no great distance from him; against him he turned back, with great fury, and while the Alban army called out to the Curiatii to succor their brother, Horatius having in the meantime slain his antagonist, proceeded, victorious, to attack the second. The Romans then cheered their champion with shouts of applause, such as naturally burst forth on occasions of unexpected joy; on his part, he delayed not to put an end to the combat; for, before the third, who was at no great distance, could come up to the relief of his brother, he dispatched the second Curiatius. And now they were brought to an equality, in point of number, only one on each side surviving, but were far from an equality either in hopes or in strength; the one, unhurt, and flushed with two victories, advanced with confidence to the third contest; the other, enfeebled by a wound, fatigued with running, and dispirited, beside, by the fate of his brethren already slain, met the victorious enemy. What followed could not be called a fight; the Roman, exulting, cried out: “Two of you have I offered to the shades of my brothers, the third I will offer to the cause in which we are engaged, that the Roman may rule over the Alban;” and, whilst the other could scarcely support the weight of his armor, he plunged his sword downward into his throat; then as he lay prostrate, he despoiled him of his arms. The Romans received Horatius with triumphant congratulations, and a degree of joy proportioned to the greatness of the danger that had threatened their cause. Both parties then applied themselves to the burying of their dead, with very different dispositions of mind; the one being elated with the acquisition of empire, the other depressed under a foreign jurisdiction. The sepulchers still remain, in the several spots where the combatants fell: those of the two Romans in one place, nearer to Alba, those of the three Albans on the side next to Rome; but in different places, as they fought.
Do our readers wonder that Byron speaks of Livy’s “pictured page?” We advance immediately to the beginning of authentic Roman history—the date of the war between Pyrrhus and Rome. Our historian shall be the German, Wilhelm Ihne (pronounced Eé-nuh), who, however, writes himself directly in English. He is still later than Mommsen, and far more judicial than he.
THE EMBASSY OF CINEAS TO ROME.
[About 280 B. C.]
The embassy of Cineas to Rome was celebrated in antiquity and was a favorite topic for rhetorical declamation. It is said that he took with him beautiful presents for men and women, but offered them in vain.[A] Rome, which in a later time the Numidian king Jugurtha declared to be ready to sell itself if only a purchaser could be found, was still, as is related, pure and virtuous. It was the time of Manius Curius, the conqueror of the Samnites, who, sitting by his own hearth and eating his simple peasant’s food, had proudly rejected the tempting presents of the Samnites; it was the time when C. Cornelius Rufinus was cast out of the senate by the censors because he had silver plate to the weight of ten pounds in his use. And was not Fabricius, the first soldier and statesman of his time, a pattern of simplicity and contentment, and superior to all temptation? What a contrast to the mercenary Greeks, whose greatest patriots and statesmen were publicly accused of bribery, and were compelled to defend themselves against such charges before the public tribunals! But Cineas was a shrewd, experienced negotiator. Where one scheme failed, he tried another. He discovered the point where the stout Romans were vulnerable. He flattered their pride. On the second day after his arrival he knew the names of all the senators and knights, and had something obliging to say to each. He visited the influential men in their houses, to get them secretly to favor his propositions. At length, when he appeared in the senate and made known his commission, when he brought offers of peace and friendship from the powerful king of Epirus, the redoubted warrior, the victor of Heraclea, the senate wavered in its decision; the deliberations lasted many days, and it appeared that the advice of those would prevail whose courage was damped and whose confidence was small. At that critical moment, the blind Appius Claudius, bowed down with age and infirmity, appeared, supported by his sons, in the solemn assembly. He had for some years retired from public life, but his haughty temper could not brook the idea that Rome should accept laws from a foreign conqueror. The Claudian pride which animated him was the genuine Roman pride, the first national virtue. He summoned all his strength once more to raise his voice in that council which he had so often swayed by his wisdom, and had subdued by his indomitable will. As if from the grave, and as if inspired by the genius of a better time, his words, echoing in the ears of the breathless assembly, scared away all pusillanimous considerations and infused the spirit of resistance which animated the men of Rome when, from the height of the capitol, they beheld the Gaulish conquerors rioting in the ruins of their town. The speech of Appius Claudius was a monument of a glorious time, the contemplation of which warmed and inspired succeeding generations. It is the first speech of the contents of which there has been preserved a substantially correct report. Later generations believed they possessed even the exact words, and Cicero speaks of it as of a literary composition of acknowledged authenticity. This view is hardly tenable; but it may be believed that the general purport and some of the arguments of the speech were faithfully preserved in the Claudian family books, and we can not deny ourselves the pleasure of listening to the faint echo which introduces us for the first time into the immediate presence of the most august assembly of the old world.