The Comic History of Rome

by Gilbert Abbott À Beckett

On the death of Micipsa, when the three rulers came to the throne of Numidia, they found the accommodation rather insufficient, and Jugurtha insolently threw himself down in the middle of it. By this act the two sons of Micipsa were practically set aside, and Jugurtha assumed that in himself alone the monarchy was centered. His next act was to propose the abolition of the acts of the last five years of Micipsa's reign, declaring that they ought all to be dotted out, on the ground of the old man's dotage. Hiempsal, with a touch of sarcasm, assented to the proposal, observing—"We shall then get rid of you, as your adoption was an act performed within the prescribed period." This attempt to be funny was a serious matter to Hiempsal, for Jugurtha caused the would-be wag to be murdered in the palace.

After this instance of sharp practice, on the part of Jugurtha, Adherbal began to tremble in his shoes lest he might be made to walk in his brother's footsteps. This fear was so nearly on the point of being realised, that Adherbal took to flight, and ran all the way to Rome, to ask for aid; upon which a commission of inquiry, consisting of ten members, was despatched to Numidia.

To refer any matter to a commission, has always been considered equivalent to laying it permanently on the shelf; and such might have been the result of the quarrel of the Numidian princes, had it not been for the fact that Jugurtha had settled the dispute in his own way, before the commissioners had even opened their inquiry. By the time they had arrived on the spot to which they had been sent, they found one of the parties dead, and the other in possession of all that he desired. Jugurtha was, of course, the survivor in this affair; and when the ambassadors, on their arrival, expressed their astonishment at their services having been dispensed with, he, by offering them something for their trouble, sent them home fully and shame-fully satisfied.

Every spark of honour was not, however, extinct in Rome; for the tribune, C. Memmius, who had not received, or, indeed, had not been offered, any of Jugurtha's gold, became virtuously indignant at the disgraceful harvest made by the ten commissioners. His agitation was so far successful, that war was declared, and the Consul, L. Calpurnius Bestia, with his legate, M. Æmilius Scaurus, were sent to invade Africa. Bestia immediately made the best bargain he could for himself, by concluding a peace with Jugurtha, on certain terms, for which the Roman Consul's own terms were most exorbitant. He and his legate, Scaurus, accepted a nominal surrender of all Jugurtha's tents, horses, and elephants; but he was allowed to reserve nearly the whole of his canvas booths and his menagerie.

When the tribune Memmius heard of the venality of the ambassadors, and of the money they had corruptly made by their services abroad, he, whose duties kept him at home, became more indignant than ever. He denounced, in abusive language, the abuse of which they had been guilty, and succeeded at last in carrying a motion that Jugurtha should appear to answer for his offences of bribery and corruption before the Senate. The summons was carried to Africa, by the stern and incorruptible Cassius, who refused every offer of cash, and insisted on the personal appearance of Jugurtha at the time and place appointed. The artful Numidian came with a very small retinue and a very long purse; for he knew that in meeting such an antagonist as Rome, he should not have to draw the steel from the scabbard, but the gold from the treasury. He threw purses in all directions; and so extensive was his bribery, that the criminals who had accepted his money were a strong majority over the few who were qualified, by not having participated in the offence, to sit in judgment over it. Memmius, who had seen none of Jugurtha's gold, insisted on his giving up the names of those who had received it; but there was such a vehement and general shout of "No," that any further inquiry as to who were the culprits, would have been quite superfluous.

The only punishment the Senate ventured to inflict upon Jugurtha, was a sentence of banishment; and it was indeed quite natural that the dishonourable members should have been glad to send speedily out of the way the principal witness to their own turpitude. As Jugurtha quitted Rome, he expressed his disgust at her venality, in a sentiment which came with but an ill grace from an accomplice in her infamy. "Oh!" he exclaimed, with an air of affected horror, "Oh! thou venal city; thou wouldst sell thyself to perdition, if thou couldst only find a purchaser!" The exact point at which this claptrap was uttered, who was at hand to hear it, and supposing the reporters to have been present, whether they proceeded to take it down, are points which the historians have not shown any disposition to look into.

After the retirement of the only witness, the inquiry into the bribery cases was prosecuted with considerable vigour. Scaurus, who had been one of the chief delinquents, attempted to expiate his own faults by getting himself appointed a member of the committee, and passing as severe sentences as he could upon his fellow criminals.

War with Jugurtha was again declared; for it was one of the most prolific sources of a profitable job to those in power. The Consul, Spurius Posthumius Albinus, was despatched with an army to Africa; but he soon came home, like his predecessors, with a large fortune, which seemed to be the kind of fortune of war that attended all who went to fight against Numidia. He left the army under the guidance of his brother Aulus, who, with his officers, were easily bribed into accepting any terms, provided they were of a pecuniary nature, that Jugurtha proposed to them. The Senate, however, refused to ratify the dishonourable peace concluded by Aulus; and thus, by the somewhat dishonest process of repudiating the acts of an authorised agent, Rome was again free to make a further property of the Numidian sovereign. At last, however, the affair was placed in honourable hands, by the appointment of Metellus (Q. C.) to the command of the army. His probity placed him far above any bribe that Jugurtha could offer; and though it is a maxim with many, that every man has his price, it may be said of Metellus that his moral standard was too high for any pecuniary standard to be applied to it.

With the generosity of true genius, Metellus selected as his legate a man capable of sharing with himself any of the honours that might be gained in the wars about to be undertaken. This man was Caius Marius, who had been, in early life, a labourer; but, while working with the spade, he felt sure that something would eventually turn up in his favour. He had served as a common soldier, but proved himself no common man; and he rose, step by step, to a highly respectable position. Vanity, however, was one of his weak points, and he fell into the hands of an old Syrian fortune-teller, who resorted to all sorts of tricks to persuade him that he was destined for the highest honours. He mentioned his aspirations to Metellus, and hinted at the possibility of his obtaining the Consulship; but his superior officer burst into a loud laugh, which, instead of putting Marius out of conceit, put him further into it. He proceeded to Rome, and, by a series of popular speeches, in which he promised everything to the people, he, of course, gained their suffrages. Having obtained the Consulship, he was despatched to finish the war against Jugurtha; but Metellus, having first pretended that there was nothing more to be done, for that he had settled the whole business himself, resigned his post to Marius.

Peace had indeed been already concluded with Jugurtha; but Rome, with its habitual want of faith, re-opened the war, which terminated at last in Jugurtha's being taken prisoner. He was drawn behind the chariot of Marius—a situation little less exalted than being tied to a cart's tail, and in that position received the pelting of a pitiless storm of mud from the congenial hands of a cowardly populace. Being thrown into a damp dungeon, he—as we are told by the grave historians—still preserved his wit; for he exclaimed, as he entered his prison, "By Hercules, what a cold bath!"—a touch of humour which seems to us remarkable for neither breadth, point, nor neatness. When, however, we consider the moisture of the circumstances under which he was placed, we cannot be surprised that he should have failed in an attempt at dry humour.