The first Romans whom the choice of the people raised to this dignity were Brutus and Collatinus. The latter did not possess it long. Although the most deeply injured in the tragical affair of Lucretia, he became somewhat odious to the citizens merely by evincing less energy than his colleague against the exiled family of the Tarquins; and for this reason he was earnestly exhorted, and at last prevailed upon, to resign his office, which was immediately conferred on Valerius. In the mean time, Tarquin, the dispossessed monarch of Rome, was devising every measure to recover his throne. He had retired among the Etrurians, from whom he was descended on the maternal side; they agreed, at his earnest request, to send an embassy to Rome for the purpose of recovering his movable property. But the ambassadors were also directed to make every exertion to prepare the way for his return. They fulfilled both commissions with great zeal and every appearance of success: the Senate granted their first request, and, as to their second and much more important object, many young men of the first nobility in Rome did not hesitate to adopt their views concerning the re-establishment of royalty in the person of Tarquin. BRUTUS CONDEMNS HIS SONS. for Brutus to find his two sons among the conspirators—the more so as his office of first consul obliged him to act as their judge. That stern Roman, not shrinking from the duty, without hesitation sacrificed parental affection to the liberty of his country, and the two unhappy young men, with their accomplices, suffered capital punishment. DEATH OF BRUTUS. So terrible an execution raised to the highest pitch the animosity of the two parties. When Tarquin shortly after attacked Rome at the head of an army, the battle was obstinately disputed and the loss nearly equal on both sides. The Romans, it is true, remained masters of the field, but they had to deplore the loss of Brutus, who fell during the conflict by the hand of Aruns, one of the sons of Tarquin, after having inflicted a mortal wound on Aruns himself. He was honored by the people with magnificent obsequies, and the Roman ladies with unanimous consent wore mourning for him during a whole year, in order to show their gratitude for the zealous avenger of chastity. Not long after, the Romans suffered another great loss by the death of Valerius, the friend and colleague of Brutus. This great man, notwithstanding the numerous proofs he had given of patriotism and devotedness to The momentous plan was already arranged the commonwealth, was once suspected of asand measures adopted for its accomplishment piring to royalty, chiefly because he inhabited when the whole conspiracy was detected by a house of difficult access and built upon a a slave called Vindicius, who had overheard hill, as if he had intended to make it a citthe conversation of the accomplices. They adel. He was no sooner apprised of this unwere immediately arrested, and their letters just suspicion than he caused the house to be to the tyrant, having fallen into the hands of entirely demolished. He moreover passed the consuls, removed every doubt as to the many laws highly favorable to public liberty reality of the plot. It was a distressing sight-among others, one which permitted every citizen condemned to any severe punishment | warrior placed himself at the entrance of the to appeal from the sentence of the magistrate bridge over which the pursuers had to pass, to the judgment of the people. For this rea- and defended it, in spite of all their efforts, son Valerius was surnamed "Publicola," and till the bridge was entirely broken down beis still known in history under that popular hind him by his fellow-soldiers. He then title. But what did him still greater honor leaped with his arms into the Tiber and swam was his perfect disinterestedness: although safely to his friends, "having," says Livy, he passed through the highest offices of the "achieved an exploit which posterity will state, and had for a long time the manage- find it more easy to admire than to believe." ment of the public revenues, he never sought to enrich himself, nor even to increase his little fortune. He died so poor that he did not leave enough to meet the funeral expenses. They were, of course, amply defrayed by the government, and the same honors were paid to him that had been paid to the memory of Brutus. of The authors and chief defenders of Roman liberty were gradually disappearing, but the spirit which animated them still lived, and others endowed with the same indomitable energy of soul arose in their stead to support and strengthen the fabric so successfully begun. A fresh attack directed against them by their former sovereign required once more the display of their courage. The army of the assailants was headed at this time by Porsenna, king of the Etrurians, a prince justly renowned for his conduct and valor, and an ally of the Tarquins. DEFENCE OF THE BRIDGE BY HORATIUS.* In the first battle, fought near the Tiber, the Roman generals were wounded and their troops put to flight after a sharp and bloody conflict. The conquerors would have entered the city together with the fugitives had it not been for the wonderful intrepidity of a Roman called Horatius Cocles. This brave * See Macaulay's poem "Horatius," Vol. III., p. 494. A second engagement proved more favorable to the Romans, and cost Porsenna no less than five thousand of his soldiers; this made him take the determination to change the siege into a blockade and endeavor to reduce the city by famine. Starvation began to rage fearfully among the inhabitants, whose number, being about three hundred thousand, soon exhausted their provisions. In this distress the Romans were again rescued from further danger by the daring and desperate act of one of their citizens, a conspicuous youth named Mucius, and afterward surnamed "Scævola." That young man entered the Etrurian camp unperceived, and, penetrating into the very tent of Porsenna, killed the secretary, whom he mistook for the king. Porsenna generously spared his life, but, alarmed at the danger to which he had been exposed and struck at the obstinate courage of the Romans, he entered into a treaty with them. On the single condition that a certain extent of territory formerly belonging to the Etrurians should be restored he put an end to the siege, and left the royal exiles to their own resources. The aged Tarquin did not yet think his case entirely hopeless. Notwithstanding the failure of so many exertions, he still preserved sufficient influence over the Latin tribes to make them unite with him in a league against the Romans. The armies took the field and met near Lake Regillus, whence the decisive action which followed took its name. Never was a battle fought with greater animosity. The chief leaders of both parties animated their troops still more by example than by words and were found in the hottest part of the conflict; hence, nearly all of them were killed or wounded. Among others, a brother and two sons of the illustrious Publicola on the one side, and on the other a son-in-law and the two remaining sons of Tarquin, lost their lives whilst performing prodigies of valor. At last the Romans by desperate efforts caused victory to declare in their favor. About twenty-seven thousand men had been engaged on their side, and forty-three thousand on that of the Latins-nearly seventy thousand in all; of the latter, only ten thousand escaped. Their terrified countrymen immediately sent ambassadors to sue for peace. It was granted on moderate terms, and the Romans established more firmly than ever their noble political maxim, to conquer the proud and spare the vanquished. This important victory most effectually secured the commonwealth of Rome. Tarquin, being now left both without a family and without resources, retired to Cuma, in Campania, where he died shortly after in grief and misery, at the advanced age of ninety years. PETER FREDET, D. D. known Mr. Lincoln was very fond. He once remarked, "It matters not to me whether Shakespeare be well or ill acted; with him the thought suffices." suffices." Edwin Booth was playing an engagement at this time at Grover's theatre. He had been announced for the coming evening in his famous part of Hamlet. The President had never witnessed his representation of this character, and he proposed being present. The mention of this play, which I afterward learned had at all times a peculiar charm for Mr. Lincoln's mind, waked up a train of thought I was not prepared for. Said he and his words have often returned to me with a sad interest since his own assassination-" There is one passage of the play of Hamlet which is very apt to be slurred over by the actor, or omitted altogether, which seems to me the choicest part of the play. It is the soliloquy of the king, after the murder. It always struck me as one of the finest touches of nature in the world." Then, throwing himself into the very spirit of the scene, he took up the words. SOLILOQUY OF CLAUDIUS AFTER THE MUR 46 DER OF HAMLET'S FATHER. Oh, my offence is rank, It smells to heaven; Or pardoned, being down? Then I'll look up; Of those effects for which I did the murder- Art more engaged! Help, angels, make assay! He repeated this entire passage from memory, with a feeling and appreciation unsurpassed by anything I ever witnessed upon the stage. Remaining in thought for a few moments, he continued: "The opening of the play of King Richard the Third seems to me often entirely misapprehended. It is quite common for an actor to come upon the stage, and in a sophomoric style to begin with a flourish : "Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York, Now," said he, "this is all wrong. Richard, you remember, had been, and was then, plotting the destruction of his brothers, to make room for himself. Outwardly the most loyal to the newly-crowned king, secretly he could scarcely contain his impatience at the obstacles still in the way of his own elevation. He appears upon the stage, just after the crowning of Edward, burning with repressed hate and jealousy. The prologue is the ut terance of the most intense bitterness and satire." Then, unconsciously assuming the character, Mr. Lincoln repeated, also from memory, Richard's soliloquy, rendering it with a degree of force and power that made it seem like a new creation to me. Though familiar with the passage from boyhood, I can truly say that never till that moment had I fully appreciated its spirit. I could not refrain from laying down my palette and brushes and applauding heartily upon his conclusion, saying, at the same time, half in earnest, that I was not sure but that he had made a mistake in the choice of a profession-considerably, as may be imagined, to his amusement. Mr. Sinclair has since repeatedly said to me that he never heard these choice passages of Shakespeare rendered with more effect by the most famous of modern actors. Mr. Lincoln's memory was very remarkable. With the multitude of visitors whom he saw daily, I was often amazed at the readiness with which he recalled faces and events, and even names. The evening of March 25, 1864, was an intensely interesting one to me. It was passed with the President alone in his study, marked by no interruptions. Busy with pen and papers when I entered, he presently threw them aside and commenced talking again about Shakespeare. Little Tad coming in, he sent him to the library for a copy of the plays, from which he read aloud several of his favorite passages. Relapsing into a sadder strain, he laid the book aside, and, leaning back in his chair, said, There is a poem that has been a great favorite with me for years, to which my attention was first called when a young man by a friend, and which I afterward saw and cut from a newspaper, and carried in my pocket, till by frequent reading I had it by heart. I would give a great deal,” he added, "to know who wrote it, but I never could ascertain." Then, half closing his eyes, he repeated the poem, "Oh, why should the spirit of mortal be proud ?” * Surprised and delighted, I told him that I should greatly prize a copy of the lines. He replied that he had recently written them out for Mrs. Stanton, but promised that when a favorable opportunity occurred he would give them to me. Varying the subject, he continued: "There are some quaint, queer verseswritten, I think, by Oliver Wendell Holmes -entitled, 'The Last Leaf,' one of which is to me inexpressibly touching." He then repeated these also from memory. The verse he referred to occurs in about the middle of the poem, and is this: "The mossy marbles rest On the lips that he has pressed In their bloom, And the names he loved to hear Have been carved for many a year On the tomb." As he finished this verse he said in his emphatic way, "For pure pathos, in my judgment, there is nothing finer than those six lines in the English language." A day or two afterward he asked me to accompany him to the temporary studio, at the Treasury Department, of Mr. Swayne, the sculptor, who was making a bust of him. While he was sitting it occurred to me to improve the opportunity to secure the promised poem. Upon mentioning the subject the By William Knox. For poem, see Vol. III., p. 30. sculptor surprised me by saying that he had at his home, in Philadelphia, a printed copy of the verses, taken from a newspaper some years previous. The President inquired if they were published in any connection with his name. Mr. Swayne said that they purported to have been written "by Abraham Lincoln." "I have heard of that before, and that is why I asked," returned the President. “But there is no truth in it. The poem was first shown to me by a young man named Jason Duncan, many years ago. The sculptor was using for a studio the office of the solicitor of the Treasury Department, an irregular room packed nearly full of law-books. Seating myself, I believe, upon a pile of these at Mr. Lincoln's feet, he kindly repeated the lines, which I wrote down one by one as they fell from his lips. F. B. CARPENTER. LOVE'S TRIUMPH. For whom fresh pains he did create, From me he took his sighs and tears, From me his languishment and fears, Thus thou and I the god have armed, And set him up a deity; While thine the victor is, and free. APHRA BEHN. |