The Comic History of Rome

by Gilbert Abbott À Beckett

Law Reform, and the extension of the franchise, had now become the two great questions of the day; for the tribunals were courts of in-justice, and the Italians thought that as much weight ought to be allowed to the Italic as to the Roman character. It was the policy of the Senate to purchase popularity at almost any price, and the members were ready to outbid each other by the most extravagant offers, for the object of their ignoble competition. Among the boldest of the bidders was M. Livius Drusus, the son of old Drusus—the colleague of Gracchus—who seems to have inherited his father's propensity for sacrificing all his principle, in order to convert it into political capital. Young Drusus is said to have been a remarkable man, because, when Quæstor in Asia, he dispensed with the insignia of office, preferring to depend upon his own personal bearing, and, perhaps, wishing to save the cost of those externals which, sometimes, take from the public functionary quite as much in the way of emolument, as they bring him in the way of dignity. He had been elected to the Tribuneship, and in that capacity he did everything he could to catch the breath of popular applause, which often sullies the brightness of the object that seeks to reflect the evanescent vapour.

One of the principal propositions of M. Livius Drusus was, that the judges should be liable to be brought to trial themselves, for their mode of conducting the trials of others. This attempt to undermine the independence of the judicial order, was shown to be so fatal to the administration of justice, that the people, who, after all, require only to be convinced of what is right in order to take the right direction, repudiated the proposal which Drusus had intended to be the means of misleading them, and obtaining for himself—under false pretences—a little additional popularity. It was pointed out to them, that a judge who felt every trial at which he was presiding to be his own, and who would be always divided between the calm demands of justice on one hand, and the unreasoning voice of public clamour on the other, would feel himself exposed to a pressure that would prevent him from maintaining an upright position. Notwithstanding his failure in this instance, M. Livius Drusus made himself the champion of the movement, and opened his house every evening, to give political advice gratis to all who were desirous of consulting him. He was engaged in this manner during one of his evenings at home, when he was suddenly stabbed by a shoe-maker's knife; and though the assassin was never discovered, the blow was supposed to have been connived at by some persons who had persuaded the cobbler to risk his awl in the dangerous effort. As a Roman could never die without a claptrap in his mouth, Drusus was of course prepared with a neat speech on the melancholy occasion. Having ejaculated, "Oh! thou ungrateful Republic, thou hast never lost a more devoted son!" he arranged his toga in becoming folds, and bowing to circumstances—bowing, perhaps, to the audience as well—he gracefully expired.

Drusus is stabbed, and expires gracefully.

The Italians, being deprived of the support of Drusus, were more than ever oppressed, and the multitude, whom it is customary to regard as synonymous with the liberal party, became vehement in denouncing the idea of allowing an equality of rights to all classes of Roman subjects. The Italians, therefore, came to the resolution, that if Rome was not to exist for them, it should not exist at all; but that they would either bring the city to the ground, or raise themselves from the dust to which injustice had lowered them. Several of the Italian nations formed themselves into a league, but never did a league go to such lengths as the one in question; for some of its members murdered the prætor, Servilius Cœpio, and his legate, who attended a meeting in the hope of conciliation at the Theatre of Asculum.

The next step of the Italians was to start a republic of their own, under the name of Italica; and by way of giving it an imposing appearance, it was to have a senate five hundred strong—though in a deliberative assembly numbers are not so much an element of strength as of weakness. It was to have two annual consuls, and no less than twelve prætors; it being perhaps the policy of the framers of the constitution to have plenty of patronage to tempt adherents to the new government. The two consuls first appointed were Silo Popædius, a Marsian, and C. Papius Mutilus, a Samnite, who took the field with great vigour, but took little else in the first instance; for Silo fell in the fight, though Mutilus, whose army was terribly mutilated, obtained some success in Campania.

Though the Italians had commenced their operations as fast friends, they loosened considerably in their friendship as the war advanced, and made separate treaties of peace, by which Rome was enabled to deal with them piecemeal, instead of being compelled to stand against their united efforts. The Samnites evinced their old obstinacy, and waited, as usual, to be cut to pieces, before they abandoned the hope of holding together. When the sword had been busy among them for three years, there remained still a mass of sufficient importance to induce the Romans to offer the franchise to all who would lay down their arms; and of this proposal the Samnites at last reluctantly availed themselves.

Rome having acquired a large accession of new citizens, was puzzled to determine what to do with them. Had they been distributed amongst the thirty-five country tribes, the old members would have been swamped by the new, and the latter were, therefore, formed into—some say six, some say eight, and some say fifteen separate bodies. Such is the disagreement of the learned doctors on this head, that we cannot put confidence in one without discrediting two; and we consequently take the more impartial course of believing none of them. So great is the discrepancy of the authorities on nearly every point, that, for the sake of history, we can only hope they do not go for their facts to the same sources which have supplied their figures. It is true that they usually profess to deal with round numbers alone; and perhaps if every number employed were literally round, it would represent the sum of what is known with certainty on the subjects that are spoken of.

The fact, however, is indisputable, that, in the times to which our history relates, the weaker states were the prey of the stronger,—might overcame right; and the only mode by which a small society could save itself from destruction by one power, was by the sale of its independence to another. Those places which were incompetent to practise the noble art of self-defence, could only obtain protection against violence on the right hand, by submitting to robbery on the left; and the Romans, who were usually appealed to for aid, always plentifully helped themselves at the cost of those by whom their help was required.

By the foreign policy of Rome, ambassadors were always planted in all places of importance, to interfere in the quarrels between nations and their kings; and the ambassadors took care, by fomenting quarrels, that there should be no lack of material for their diplomacy. The cost of intervention fell heavily on those upon whom it was bestowed, but it eventually helped to ruin Rome itself; for neglect of one's own affairs is the inevitable consequence of interfering with the affairs of one's neighbours. The professed object of this meddling on the part of the great republic, was to give to other states the benefit of freedom. There is, however, no slavery more abject than that which induces a nation to accept a foreign, instead of a domestic, tyranny. Those who are willing to import their independence from abroad, will never find it flourish at home; and there is not a more melancholy object—as recent events have proved—than a transplanted tree of liberty.