The Comic History of Rome

by Gilbert Abbott À Beckett

Sertorius, who had sent out Salinator as a sort of feeler—not exactly expecting that the latter would have to feel his death-blow—perceived there was little prospect of his own success; and he made his escape to Africa. While in Mauritania, having no quarrel of his own, he interfered in the quarrels of other people; and there being two claimants to the Mauritanian crown, he supported one, and—by way of keeping his hand in—picked the pocket of the other. His meddling having paid him extremely well, he made up his mind and his luggage to retire into private life, and an account he had heard of the Canary Islands tempted him to deposit his well-feathered nest in that congenial locality.

The Lusitanians, however, who had been robbed by the Romans belonging to Sulla's party, having a vague idea of the propriety of setting a thief to catch a thief, entreated Sertorius to defend them against their enemies. The engagement was entered into after some little delay as to the terms; when Sertorius set to work with so much ardour, that he was soon fighting four Roman generals at once; and, what was still more remarkable, he was getting decidedly the best of it. His mode of warfare was to pour down from one fastness to another with such speed, that his foes never knew where to have him, until he had them in the most unexpected manner. If they began to march, says Plutarch, he was upon their heels,—if they sat still, he was upon their back,—and if they invested a town, he turned the investment to his own profit by intercepting all their convoys. The enemy had no resource against his arms but their own legs, for flight was their sole safeguard.

Not satisfied with fighting the battles of the Spaniards, he began regulating their civil domestic affairs, and endeavoured to translate the Spanish into the Roman character. His object was to establish a Roman republic in Spain; but it is difficult to manufacture a foreign article of native materials. He appointed 300 persons as a senate; and, though the greater part were Spaniards, he took as many proscribed Romans as he could find, in the hope that they would serve as a sort of Roman cement, to make it hold together. He established a school—a classical academy—where Latin and Greek were taught, and where the pupils wore boys' tunics, after the Roman fashion.

Sertorius was a general favourite with all classes, besides the classes of the school; and happening to have a favourite fawn, which followed him wherever he went, flattery declared the fawn was sent him by the gods, as a mark of favour.

Fortune appeared to favour him in all he undertook; and even Q. Metellus, with a large army, could produce no effect,—a failure that was attributed to the age and imbecility of that illustrious veteran. Sertorius was joined by Perperna, who, on the strength of the forces he brought, expected to share in the command; but such is the influence of success, that Perperna's men repudiated their own leader, and insisted on having Sertorius as their general.

Sertorius and his young Friends.

The constant arrival of unfavourable news at Rome, at length induced Pompey to exclaim—"This will never do; I must go and settle the matter myself;" for Pompey's conceit induced him to conceive that he should easily conquer Sertorius. The latter was besieging Lauro, the modern Liria, to which the former advanced for the purpose of relieving it. There was, near the walls, a hill that it was important to possess, and both parties tried for it; but Sertorius, setting his eye on the top, was the first to get up to it. Pompey, with consummate vanity, expressed his determination to dislodge the fellow forthwith, and sent a message to the town, desiring the inhabitants to sit upon the walls, that they might see how cleverly he would dispose of their enemy. Sertorius, on hearing the boast, observed, smilingly, that "a general should watch behind as well as before,"—an observation that Pompey, who did not see behind him at the time, would often afterwards look back upon. Sertorius had, in fact, a very considerable reserve, with which he hemmed the besiegers in while he burned the inhabitants out, to the utter astonishment of Pompey, who, though near enough to the flames to warm his hands, could not interfere without burning his fingers.

Pompey was, nevertheless, impatient to measure swords with Sertorius; an operation which, though it seems indicative of coming to close quarters, must always keep a soldier at arm's length, at least, from his antagonist. Desirous of all the glory that might be obtained, Pompey, hearing that Metellus was coming up with assistance, resolved on precipitating a battle, and he accordingly commenced one rather late in the afternoon, though he knew he might be quite in the dark as to the issue. Sertorius and Pompey each advanced at the head of a division, but by some accident they did not happen to meet; and each of them came back to the main body of his army with the conviction that he had been victorious. On the renewal of the conflict the generals met, the armies knocked their two heads together, when Pompey, being stunned by the blow, and having no one to advise him what to do, took to flight for the purpose of consulting his own safety.

Though apparently invincible by his enemies, Sertorius was not safe from his friends, for he was murdered at a dinner-party given to him by Perperna. The cloth had not been removed, when Sertorius was startled by a singular entrée, in the shape of a band of assassins, who set upon him and slew him. So much was he respected by the Spaniards, that it is said his death brought dying suddenly into fashion, and many killed themselves at his funeral, for the purpose of taking Sertorius as their pattern. Perperna immediately declared himself commander-in-chief, but he was quite unfit for the place, and in his very first engagement he was cut to pieces, with the whole of his army. Whether they were literally cut to pieces, is a matter of doubt to us, though the account is placidly adopted by the graver historians; but when we consider the quantity of cutting and coming again of the same parties—as exemplified particularly in the case of the Samnites—which we are continually called upon to place faith in, we find belief rather difficult.