THE CENTURIONThe Roman Senate, in high conclave assembled, deliberated respecting the raising of fresh levies of men and arms. Powerful and vindictive foes, with difficulty held at bay, were gathering for attack, while the commons were ripe for revolt. Meanwhile, a turbulent crowd thronged the forum, surging to and fro like forests tossed by conflicting winds. Exasperated by oppression, beggared by usury, they recounted their causes of discontent, and thus fanned the smouldering flame in each other’s breast. It was from their households the conscription now pending was to be made; their blood was to stain the fields of battle, and victory, bringing but empty honors, would leave them more under the power of their masters than before. To increase the confusion, some Latin horsemen came full speed to the city, announcing that the Volsci were on their march to attack it; upon which the people set up a shout of joy, willing to perishif so be their oppressors might perish with them.Cries of agony now arose above the tumult, and an old man pursued by creditors ran into the midst imploring aid; but his pursuers catching hold of the chain which was fastened to his right foot, he fell upon his face, while the blood gushed from his nostrils. He had just escaped from the dungeon of a creditor; his clothes were in tatters; his body emaciated by hunger; while his face, hideous with matted hair and beard, resembled more that of a beast than of a man. Some soldiers at length recalled the face of a centurion under whom they had served, famed for military skill, and distinguished by honors received as the reward of valor in the field. It needed but this spark to ignite a train already prepared for explosion. With a roar, like that of surges upon a winter’s beach, they trampled his pursuers beneath their feet, bidding him without fear to tell his tale, for they would protect him though it were necessary to fling both senate and consuls into the Tiber. And now to that fearful uproar succeeded a silence like that of the sepulchre, permitting the feeble tones of the miserable man to reachevery ear and touch every heart in that vast assembly, as thus he spake:—“Ten years ago, my countrymen, I was the owner of a little farm, the fruit of my labor and that of my ancestors. It lay along the base of hills around whose roots wound a brook which, watering my fields, ran into the Tiber; on its banks grew the elms that sustained our vines; the hills were clothed with chestnut and olives, and there also was the pasture of my flocks. In the sheltered vale beneath, the almond mingled with the fig, the flax spread its azure flowers to the sun, apples bent the laden boughs, and grain rewarded the toil of the reaper. How dear to me was that humble cot with its straw-thatched roof from which the swallows sprang to greet the breaking day; where the stock-dove hung its nest in the beechen shade, and morning breezes brought perfume to its threshold. How sweet, when the weary bullocks were released from the yoke, to lie among the lengthening shadows and listen to the dying breeze steal through the soft acanthus leaves in wild, low music. Our wants were few and easily satisfied; my wife ground the corn, her hands spun and wove our clothing, my children were dutiful;we led a frugal, happy life, revering the immortal gods and cherishing the virtues of our fathers. These few acres, valued as the fruit of my own labor, the gift of my ancestors, consecrated by their toil and pregnant with their ashes, were to me inexpressibly dear. I, indeed, was most of the time in arms for my country, yet often in the midnight watches of the camp did memory picture those sunny fields, my family thinking and talking of the absent soldier; nor did I forget to thank the immortal gods, that, should my country require my life, my family possessed a heritage and a home. The sun was declining as I neared my native vale on my return from the Sabine war. Eagerly I pressed to the brow of the hill that I might look down upon that dear cot. It was a heap of ashes; the storm of war had swept over those pleasant fields; fire had consumed the standing corn; the cattle were driven off, and the beauty of the groves had departed. As nearer I drew, I descried the body of my wife and first-born lying dead at the threshold; the rest had fled, not a living thing, even a dog, was left to welcome me; and the tired soldier had not where to lay his head.“To war succeeded famine, hostilities continued, taxes increased, the land lay untilled. I was compelled to borrow money at exorbitant usury; that loved heritage passed into the hands of strangers. The golden crown and silver chain, bestowed for being the first to enter the enemy’s camp, went next; they are in the coffers of a man who never saw the color of a foeman’s eye nor drew his sword in the State’s behalf. All this not sufficing, my creditor immured me in a foul dungeon beneath his palace; with fifteen pounds of iron, the utmost the law permits, was I loaded; a pound of corn and water was my daily food, and I, a Roman citizen and a centurion, was scourged like a dog. Had I not broken my chain and flung myself upon you for protection, this war-worn body would have been cut in pieces and apportioned among my creditors.“Comrades on many a bloody field, behold this arm,—which in twenty-eight battles has fought for the liberty of Rome till the hand clave to the sword hilt,—worn by cruel fetters to the bone; this body, seamed with honorable scars, dripping blood from the knotted scourge. Milder tortures would have been reserved for me had I been the betrayer instead ofthe defender of my country. The laws which consume the poor man’s substance and drain his blood are by usurers enacted, by them are executed. Usurers rob the public chest and parcel out the conquered lands among themselves. Let us, rather than longer submit to such extortion, fling wide the gates to the approaching enemy, leave them to exercise their wisdom in making laws where there are none to govern, levying taxes where there are none to pay, and displaying their valor where there is nought to defend. By the ashes of that ruined home, those loved forms mangled by the Sabine sword and devoured by the vultures of the Apennines, by the sufferings of my remaining children whose young lives are consumed by the tortures from which I have fled, by him who on Olympus holds his awful seat and shakes the nations with his nod, I conjure you to assert the rights of the people and the ancient liberties of Rome.”
The Roman Senate, in high conclave assembled, deliberated respecting the raising of fresh levies of men and arms. Powerful and vindictive foes, with difficulty held at bay, were gathering for attack, while the commons were ripe for revolt. Meanwhile, a turbulent crowd thronged the forum, surging to and fro like forests tossed by conflicting winds. Exasperated by oppression, beggared by usury, they recounted their causes of discontent, and thus fanned the smouldering flame in each other’s breast. It was from their households the conscription now pending was to be made; their blood was to stain the fields of battle, and victory, bringing but empty honors, would leave them more under the power of their masters than before. To increase the confusion, some Latin horsemen came full speed to the city, announcing that the Volsci were on their march to attack it; upon which the people set up a shout of joy, willing to perishif so be their oppressors might perish with them.
Cries of agony now arose above the tumult, and an old man pursued by creditors ran into the midst imploring aid; but his pursuers catching hold of the chain which was fastened to his right foot, he fell upon his face, while the blood gushed from his nostrils. He had just escaped from the dungeon of a creditor; his clothes were in tatters; his body emaciated by hunger; while his face, hideous with matted hair and beard, resembled more that of a beast than of a man. Some soldiers at length recalled the face of a centurion under whom they had served, famed for military skill, and distinguished by honors received as the reward of valor in the field. It needed but this spark to ignite a train already prepared for explosion. With a roar, like that of surges upon a winter’s beach, they trampled his pursuers beneath their feet, bidding him without fear to tell his tale, for they would protect him though it were necessary to fling both senate and consuls into the Tiber. And now to that fearful uproar succeeded a silence like that of the sepulchre, permitting the feeble tones of the miserable man to reachevery ear and touch every heart in that vast assembly, as thus he spake:—
“Ten years ago, my countrymen, I was the owner of a little farm, the fruit of my labor and that of my ancestors. It lay along the base of hills around whose roots wound a brook which, watering my fields, ran into the Tiber; on its banks grew the elms that sustained our vines; the hills were clothed with chestnut and olives, and there also was the pasture of my flocks. In the sheltered vale beneath, the almond mingled with the fig, the flax spread its azure flowers to the sun, apples bent the laden boughs, and grain rewarded the toil of the reaper. How dear to me was that humble cot with its straw-thatched roof from which the swallows sprang to greet the breaking day; where the stock-dove hung its nest in the beechen shade, and morning breezes brought perfume to its threshold. How sweet, when the weary bullocks were released from the yoke, to lie among the lengthening shadows and listen to the dying breeze steal through the soft acanthus leaves in wild, low music. Our wants were few and easily satisfied; my wife ground the corn, her hands spun and wove our clothing, my children were dutiful;we led a frugal, happy life, revering the immortal gods and cherishing the virtues of our fathers. These few acres, valued as the fruit of my own labor, the gift of my ancestors, consecrated by their toil and pregnant with their ashes, were to me inexpressibly dear. I, indeed, was most of the time in arms for my country, yet often in the midnight watches of the camp did memory picture those sunny fields, my family thinking and talking of the absent soldier; nor did I forget to thank the immortal gods, that, should my country require my life, my family possessed a heritage and a home. The sun was declining as I neared my native vale on my return from the Sabine war. Eagerly I pressed to the brow of the hill that I might look down upon that dear cot. It was a heap of ashes; the storm of war had swept over those pleasant fields; fire had consumed the standing corn; the cattle were driven off, and the beauty of the groves had departed. As nearer I drew, I descried the body of my wife and first-born lying dead at the threshold; the rest had fled, not a living thing, even a dog, was left to welcome me; and the tired soldier had not where to lay his head.
“To war succeeded famine, hostilities continued, taxes increased, the land lay untilled. I was compelled to borrow money at exorbitant usury; that loved heritage passed into the hands of strangers. The golden crown and silver chain, bestowed for being the first to enter the enemy’s camp, went next; they are in the coffers of a man who never saw the color of a foeman’s eye nor drew his sword in the State’s behalf. All this not sufficing, my creditor immured me in a foul dungeon beneath his palace; with fifteen pounds of iron, the utmost the law permits, was I loaded; a pound of corn and water was my daily food, and I, a Roman citizen and a centurion, was scourged like a dog. Had I not broken my chain and flung myself upon you for protection, this war-worn body would have been cut in pieces and apportioned among my creditors.
“Comrades on many a bloody field, behold this arm,—which in twenty-eight battles has fought for the liberty of Rome till the hand clave to the sword hilt,—worn by cruel fetters to the bone; this body, seamed with honorable scars, dripping blood from the knotted scourge. Milder tortures would have been reserved for me had I been the betrayer instead ofthe defender of my country. The laws which consume the poor man’s substance and drain his blood are by usurers enacted, by them are executed. Usurers rob the public chest and parcel out the conquered lands among themselves. Let us, rather than longer submit to such extortion, fling wide the gates to the approaching enemy, leave them to exercise their wisdom in making laws where there are none to govern, levying taxes where there are none to pay, and displaying their valor where there is nought to defend. By the ashes of that ruined home, those loved forms mangled by the Sabine sword and devoured by the vultures of the Apennines, by the sufferings of my remaining children whose young lives are consumed by the tortures from which I have fled, by him who on Olympus holds his awful seat and shakes the nations with his nod, I conjure you to assert the rights of the people and the ancient liberties of Rome.”