was descended from a long line of ancestors distinguished by their haughty demeanour, and by the inflexibility with which they had withstood all the demands of the Plebeian order. While the political conduct and the deportment of the Claudian nobles drew upon them the fiercest public hatred, they were accused of wanting, if any credit is due to the early history of Rome, a class of qualities which, in the military commonwealth, is sufficient to cover a multitude of offences. The chiefs of the family appear to have been eloquent, versed in civil business, and learned after the fashion of their age; but in war they were not distinguished by skill or valour. Some of them, as if conscious where their weakness lay, had, when filling the highest magistracies, taken internal administration as their department of public business, and left the military command to their colleagues.* One of them had been intrusted with an army, and had failed ignominiously.† None of them had been honoured with a triumph. None of them had achieved any martial exploit, such as those by which Lucius Quinctius Cincinnatus, Titus Quinctius Capitolinus, Aulus Cornelius Cossus, and, above all, the great Camillus, had extorted the reluctant esteem of the multitude. During the Licinian conflict, Appius Claudius Crassus signalized himself by the ability and severity with which he harangued against the two great agitators. He would naturally, therefore, be the favourite mark of the Plebeian satirists; nor would they have been at a loss to find a point on which he was open to attack. His grandfather, named, like himself, Appius Claudius, had left a name as much detested as that of Sextus Tarquinius. This elder Appius had been Consul more than seventy years before the introduction of the Licinian laws. By availing himself of a singular crisis in public feeling, he had obtained the consent of the Commons to the abolition of the Tribuneship, and had been the chief of that Council of Ten to which the whole direction of the State had been committed. In a few months his administration had become universally odious. It had been swept away by an irresistible outbreak of popular fury; and its memory was still held in abhorrence by the whole city. The immediate cause of the downfall of this execrable government was * In the years of the city 260, 304, and 330. † In the year of the city 282. said to have been an attempt made by Appius Claudius upon the chastity of a beautiful young girl of humble birth. The story ran that the Decemvir, unable to succeed by bribes and solicitations, resorted to an outrageous act of tyranny. A vile dependent of the Claudian house laid claim to the damsel as his slave. The cause was brought before the tribunal of Appius. The wicked magistrate, in defiance of the clearest proofs, gave judgment for the claimant. But the girl's father, a brave soldier, saved her from servitude and dishonour by stabbing her to the heart in the sight of the whole Forum That blow was the signal for a general explosion. Camp and city rose at once; the Ten were pulled down; the Tribuneship was re-established; and Appius escaped the hands of the executioner only by a voluntary death. It can hardly be doubted that a story so admirably adapted to the purposes both of the poet and of the demagogue would be eagerly seized upon by minstrels burning with hatred against the Patrician order, against the Claudian house, and especially against the grandson and namesake of the infamous Decemvir. In order that the reader may judge fairly of these fragments of the lay of Virginia, he must imagine himself a Plebeian who has just voted for the reelection of Sextius and Licinius. All the power of the Patricians has been exerted to throw out the two great champions of the Commons. Every Posthumins, Emilius, and Cornelius has used his influence to the utmost. Debtors have been let out of the workhouses on condition of voting against the men of the people clients have been posted to hiss and interrupt the favourite candidates : Appius Claudius Crassus has spoken with more than his usual eloquence and asperity all has been in vain; Licinius and Sextius have a fifth time carried all the tribes: work is suspended: the booths are closed the Plebeians bear on their shoulders the two champions of liberty through the Forum. Just at this moment it is announced that a popular poet, a zealous adherent of the Tribunes, has made a new song which will cut the Claudian nobles to the heart. The crowd gathers round him, and calls on him to recite it. He takes his stand on the spot where, according to tradition, Virginia, more than seventy years ago, was seized by the pandar of Appius, and he begins his story. VIRGINIA. FRAGMENTS OF A LAY SUNG IN THE FORUM ON THE DAY WHEREON STOLO WERE ELECTED TRIBUNES OF THE COMMONS THE FIFTH TIME, YE good men of the Commons, with loving hearts and true, A tale of what Rome once hath borne, of what Rome yet may bear. Of maids with snaky tresses, or sailors turned to swine. Here, in this very Forum, under the noonday sun, In sight of all the people, the bloody deed was done. Old men still creep among us who saw that fearful day, Just seventy years and seven ago, when the wicked Ten bare sway. Of all the wicked Ten still the names are held accursed, The townsmen shrank to right and left, and eyed askance with fear Just then, as through one cloudless chink in a black stormy sky, Home she went bounding from the school, nor dreamed of shame or harm And past those dreaded axes she innocently ran, With bright, frank brow that had not learned to blush at gaze of man; And up the Sacred Street she turned, and, as she danced along, How for a sport the princes came spurring from the camp, And found Lucrece, combing the fleece, under the midnight lamp. And all along the Forum, and up the Sacred Street, His vulture eye pursued the trip of those small glancing feet. Over the Alban mountains the light of morning broke; From all the roofs of the Seven Hills curled the thin wreaths of smoke: The city gates were opened; the Forum all alive, With buyers and with sellers was humming like a hive: Blithely on brass and timber the craftsman's stroke was ringing, And blithely o'er her panniers the market girl was singing, And blithely young Virginia came smiling from her home: Ah! woe for young Virginia, the sweetest maid in Rome! With her small tablets in her hand, and her satchel on her arm, Forth she went bounding to the school, nor dreamed of shame or harm, And just had reached the very spot whereon I stand this day, And Volero the flesher, his cleaver in his hand. All came in wrath and wonder; for all knew that fair child; And, as she passed them twice a day, all kissed their hands and smiled; And the strong smith Muræna gave Marcus such a blow, The caitiff reeled three paces back, and let the maiden go. Yet glared he fiercely round him, and growled in harsh, fell tone, "She's mine, and I will have her: I seek but for mine own: She is my slave, born in my house, and stolen away and sold, Two augurs were borne forth that morn; the Consul died ere night. I wait on Appius Claudius, I waited on his sire: Let him who works the client wrong beware the patron's ire!" So spake the varlet Marcus; and dread and silence came Who clung tight to Muræna's skirt, and sobbed, and shrieked for aid And stamped his foot, and rent his gown, and smote upon his breast, Poured thick and fast the burning words which tyrants quake to hear. "Now, by your children's cradles, now by your fathers' graves, Be men to-day, Quirites, or be for ever slaves! For this did Servius give us laws? For this did Lucrece bleed? In those brave days our fathers stood firmly side by side; They faced the Marcian fury; they tamed the Fabian pride: We strove for honours-'twas in vain: for freedom-'tis no more. No crier to the polling summons the eager throng; No Tribune breathes the word of might that guards the weak from wrong. Our very hearts that were so high, sink down beneath your will. Riches, and lands, and power, and state-ye have them :-keep them still. Still keep the holy fillets; still keep the purple gown, The axes, and curule chair, the car, and laurel crown: Still press us for your cohorts, and, when the fight is done, Still fill your garners from the soil which our good swords have won. Still, like a spreading ulcer, which leech-craft may not cure, No fire when Tiber freezes; no air in dog-star heat And store of rods for free-born backs, and holes for free-born feet. Who from their cars look down with scorn upon the wondering street, Who in Corinthian mirrors their own proud smiles behold, And breathe of Capuan odours, and shine with Spanish gold? Then leave the poor Plebeian his single tie to life The sweet, sweet love of daughter, of sister, and of wife, The gentle speech, the balm for all that his vexed soul endures, Spare us the inexpiable wrong, the unutterable shame, That turns the coward's heart to steel, the sluggard's blood to flame, Lest, when our latest hope is fled, ye taste of our despair, And learn by proof, in some wild hour, how much the wretched dare." Straightway Virginius led the maid a little space aside, To where the reeking shambles stood, piled up with horn and hide, And then his eyes grew very dim, and his throat began to swell, And in a hoarse, changed voice he spake, " Farewell, sweet child! Farewell! Oh how I loved my darling! Though stern I sometimes be,' To thee, thou know'st I was not so. Who could be so to thee? And how my darling loved me! How glad she was to hear My footstep on the threshold when I came back last year! And how she danced with pleasure to see my civic crown, |