XI.
POLITICS.
On the following day, Sergius, true to his purpose, ordered his litterto be brought, and, reclining as his weakness compelled, was borne downinto the Forum crowded with its mass of turbulent and perspiringhumanity. Nor was the temper of the rabble doubtful. On every side heheard arraignments of Fabius, and, through him, of all men guilty ofgood birth or riches. Under every portico, speakers were pouring forthharangues whose ignorance was only matched by their coarseness andsurpassed by their reckless malevolence. Once he bade his bearers sethim down, near where one Quintus Baebius Herennius, a plebeian tribuneand a relative of Varro's, was holding forth to a sympathetic crowd.
"Do you not know, ye foolish Romans," cried the orator, alternatelyslapping his thigh, waving his arms, and casting up his eyes, "thatthis Hannibal was brought into Italy by these very nobles, who arealways desiring war? Can you not see how they are protracting the war,when you consider that one man of the people, our own Minucius, when hecommanded the four legions, was sufficient for the enemy? Behold howthis traitorous, this _noble_ Fabian schemed to expose the braveMinucius and two legions of the people to destruction, and only rescuedthe remnant that he might pose as their saviour and be saluted 'father'and 'patron.' There, indeed, was our Minucius at fault, as whathonest, poor man is not, when confronted by the wiles of those bred tocraft and trickery! See, too, how the consuls have followed the samedilatory measures, and can you doubt that it is all by agreement withthese traitor nobles? Know well, now, that this war will have noending until a man of the people ends it--a real plebeian; a new man.See you not that both consuls, by tarrying with the army, have set upan interregnum, that the wicked nobles may the better influence yourchoice? But if you be true Romans, such as were those who camped uponthe Sacred Hill, you will remember that one consulship, at least, isyours by law, and you will elect a man to fill it who is one ofyourselves and who will spurn the rich, as they now seek to spurn youand me and all good men."
Sergius had listened to this harangue, and to the applause whichgreeted it, with mingled feelings of indignation and sorrow--sentimentsto which was added surprise when he noted through the closed curtainsof his litter that several patricians passed by and smiled and noddedto the speaker while he poured forth his diatribes. Now, however, anew commotion seemed to agitate the throng, who, turning suddenly, ranpell-mell in one direction, almost overturning the litter--acatastrophe from which it was only saved by a vigorous use of thebearers' staves upon the heads of the nearest.
Sergius thrust aside the curtains and half raised himself to see thecause of the disturbance. The brightly fullered gown of a candidateflashed before his eyes, and then he recognized Varro standing upon asilversmith's counter, smiling this way and that, grasping the hands ofthose nearest, kissing his own to the very outskirts of the mob, andall the while crying out, to the promptings of his nomenclator:"Greeting to you, Marcus!" "Health, Quintus!" "Commend me to yourbrother, my Caius--yes, to be sure--when he shall return from the army.Ah! friends, when I am consul, there will be a hasty returning fromsuch foolish wars. You shall see the African fork-bearers windingthrough the Forum."
"And that is the first word of truth I have heard from you, Varro, orfrom your Herennius here," cried Sergius, who had risen and now stood,pale and gaunt, beside his litter. "With you and such as you tocommand, we may well look to see the African fork-bearers windingthrough the Forum--yes, and pillaging amid its ruins."
A roar of vituperation drowned whatever answer the candidate might havemade, as, with brandished clubs, cleavers, knives, styli--any weaponthat could be snatched up from the booths--the nearest score of thecrowd made a dash at the presumptuous noble.
The litter-bearers were sturdy fellows, and their staves were stout,but the contest was far too unequal. One had gone down with a deepgash in the shoulder, and the others were quickly forced back upontheir master.
Sergius stood with his back to one of the square pillars of peperino,with folded arms and pale face upon which hovered a smile of ineffablescorn. He recognized his peril: the fate that had befallen many nobleRomans in the election riots of the Republic; but his sentiment wasrather one of indifference than of perturbation, and he was about toorder his slaves to give up their hopeless defence, in order that thecrowd might let them, at least, go without further hurt, when anentirely unexpected diversion brought him relief and safety.
Varro had viewed the attack upon his critic with a pleasure that hescarcely tried to conceal. He kept begging his adherents to bemoderate and abstain from violence, but in so low a voice that hiscounsels could not be heard except by those immediately around him, andwere entirely inaudible to the howling assailants to whom they werepresumably addressed. Another voice, however, a shrill, female voice,came suddenly to Sergius' ears:--
"Would that my brother could come to life and command another fleet,that the streets might be less crowded!"
Sergius recognized, in a rich litter that was tossed hither and thitherby the billows of the mob, the face of the sister of that PubliusClaudius who had lost for Rome the naval battle off Drepanum. The mob,too, recognized her, and the scornful speech bit deeply. All aroundarose a cry of--
"To the aediles with her! To the aediles! She has rejoiced in thedeath of our brothers! May the gods curse the noble!" and, in amoment, Sergius found himself alone but for his bruised and bleedingservants, while the tide of riot swept up the Forum, bearing the litterupon its tossing crests, and the virago within continued to scream outher defiance and contempt.
Varro remained, surrounded by a few friends, and, as Sergiusapproached, he drew himself up, as if to reenforce his courage with asense of his importance. The tribune was about to pass him without aword; but the demagogue, emboldened by this seeming unwillingness foran encounter, placed himself in his path.
"Did you hear the kindly wishes that the great express for the healthof their poorer countrymen?" he began, tauntingly.
"It is like your kind, Varro," replied Sergius, speaking slowly and intones of profound contempt, "to attribute to our party any intemperanceof a single opponent; but do you also credit us with the virtues ofindividuals? I might with better grace attribute the murderous attackjust made--and with your connivance--upon myself, to the party of thepeople. That I do not do so, you may lay to a moderation andmagnanimity that are not learned in the tradesman's booth or thebutcher's shambles."
Varro flushed crimson, and he looked from side to side, as if to callupon his friends for new violence; but a company of young patricianswere descending from the Comitia, and his fellows were dull ofcomprehension.
"Do you beware, though, Varro," continued Sergius, "lest, in strivingto attain power and place on the wings of calumny against those betterthan yourself, or by the suggestion of false grievances to those whoare ignorant and weak, you may, by these things, incite one riot toomany. Beware, above all things, lest you win."
Then, drawing his toga close, as if to avoid a contaminating touch, hestrode by to join the approaching band of young men, leaving hisopponent vicious to snarl, but powerless to bite.
After the usual greetings and inquiries concerning his health, theywalked on together toward the Curtian Pool, and Sergius' thoughts tookon a deeper colour from the despondent speech of his friends. ThatVarro would receive the votes of the centuries, beyond all doubt, wasunanimously conceded; and so great was the dissatisfaction with Fabius,that their regret seemed only for the manner of the popular victory andthe man who was to gain it. A few hot-heads dropped hints to theeffect that it might become necessary to reorganize the patrician clubsand meet violence with violence, in which event there could be butlittle doubt as to the result; but the sentiment of the majority wasadverse to such measures, and they viewed the possibilities with anindifference that to Sergius seemed even more ominous than the frenzyof the rabble and the worthlessness of its leaders. His attempts todefend the Fabian policy, speaking as one of its victims, werehopelessly thrown away. All Rom
e was mad for battle, even at the costof sending the butcher's son to command the legions; and, two dayslater, the result of low chicanery and indifferent lethargy took shape.
The trumpet had summoned the army of the city to the Field of Mars, andcentury after century had entered the enclosure to cast its vote forVarro--for Varro alone, until no one of the noble candidates, whoreceived the half-hearted support of their fellows, got even enoughpebbles to be proclaimed elected to the second consulship. To Varroalone, cringing and insolent, was the oath administered; for Varroalone was the prayer put up; for Varro was the declaration twice made,according to the laws of the Republic, and into Varro's hands wasplaced the presidency over the assembly that was to elect his colleague.
Then followed an exhibition of plebeian cunning. There were among thesupporters of the consul those who realized what he himself could not:his military incompetence and the terrible necessity that, at such ajuncture, there should be at least one soldier-consul. Varro had wonon his merits as self-announced, on the strength of his own arraignmentof his adversaries' shortcomings. He stood forth the incarnation ofparty and class hatred; and now the victors, half dazed by the verycompleteness of their triumph, paused in mid career to look for asoldier with whom the army might be entrusted. That he must be anoble, was self-evident. Even the rabble, now that its first outbursthad passed, was not so mad as to attribute military skill to any of itswordy leaders. The butcher's colleague must be a patrician, but hemust be such a patrician as would cast reproach upon his class, whilehe supplied the one quality requisite to the plebeian situation. Towhose political acumen first occurred the name of Lucius AemiliusPaullus, no one seemed to know; but, once suggested, there was none todeny its entire appropriateness. Paullus was a veteran of severalwars, an experienced commander, a brave soldier; and there his meritsended. He had been brought to trial for misappropriation of theplunder taken in the Illyrian campaign, and, as many thought, acquittedby means as scandalous as the crime itself, while his less influentialcolleague suffered for both. Harsh and rude, no high-born Roman wasless popular; and his exaggeration of class insolence bade fair tooffer him as an illustration, ready to the tongue of every demagogue,of what the people must always expect from patrician rule.
So, one by one, the five noble opponents of Varro were rejected, andthe word went out that, of their enemies, the people would have Paullusand him alone.
The Lion's Brood Page 12