University of Virginia Library

7. CHAPTER VII
THE AMBASSADORS.

Hamlet.

It wanted a short time of noon, on a fine bracing day
in the latter end of November.

Something more than a fortnight had elapsed since the
flight of Catiline; and, as no further discoveries had been
made, nor any tumults or disturbances arisen in the city,
men had returned to their former avocations, and had for
the most part forgotten already the circumstances, which
had a little while before convulsed the public mind with
fear or favor.

No certain tidings had been received, or, if received, divulged
to the people, of Catiline's proceedings; it being
only known that he had tarried for a few days at the country-house
of Caius Flaminius Flamma, near to Arretium,
where he was believed to be amusing himself with boar-hunting.

On the other hand, the letters of justification, and complaint
against Cicero, had been shewn to their friends by
all those who had received them, all men of character and
weight; and their contents had thus gained great publicity.

The consequence of this was, naturally enough, that the
friends and favorers of the conspiracy, acting with singular
wisdom and foresight, studiously affected the utmost
moderation and humility of bearing, while complaining
every where of the injustice done to Catiline, and of the
false suspicions maliciously cast on many estimable individuals,

by the low-born and ambitious person who was
temporarily at the head of the state.

The friends of Cicero and the republic, on the contrary,
lay on their oars, in breathless expectation of some new
occurrence, which should confirm the public mind, and
approve their own conduct; well aware that much time
could not elapse before Catiline would be heard of at the
head of an army.

In the meantime, the city wore its wonted aspect; men
bought and sold, and toiled or sported; and women smiled
and sighed, flaunted and wantoned in the streets, as if, a
few short days before, they had not been wringing their
hands in terror, dissolved in tears, and speechless from dismay.

It was a market day, and the forum was crowded almost
to overflowing. The country people had flocked in, as
usual, to sell the produce of their farms; and their wagons
stood here and there laden with seasonable fruits, cheeses,
and jars of wine, pigeons in wicker cages, fresh herbs, and
such like articles of traffic. Many had brought their wives,
sun-burned, black-haired and black-eyed, from their villas
in the Latin or Sabine country, to purchase city luxuries.
Many had come to have their lawsuits decided; many to
crave justice against their superiors from the Tribunes of
the people; many to get their wills registered, to pay or
borrow money, and to transact that sort of business, for
which the day was set aside.

Nor were the townsmen absent from the gay scene; for
to them the nundinæ, or market days, were holydays, in
which the courts of law were shut, and the offices closed
to them, at least, although open to the rural citizens, for
the despatch of business.

The members of the city tribes crowded therefore to the
forum many of these too accompanied by their women, to
buy provisions, to ask for news from the country, and to
stare at the uncouth and sturdy forms of the farmers, or
admire the black eyes and merry faces of the country
lasses.

It was a lively and gay scene; the bankers' shops, distinguished
by the golden shields of the Samnites, suspended
from the lintels of their doors, were thronged with money-changers,
and alive with the hum of traffic.

Ever and anon some curule magistrate, in his fringed
toga, with his lictors, in number proportioned to his rank,
would come sweeping through the dense crowd; or some
plebeian officer, with his ushers and beadles; or, before
whom the ranks of the multitude would open of their own
accord and bow reverentially, some white-stoled vestal virgin,
with her fair features closely veiled from profane eyes,
the sacred fillets on her head, and her lictor following her
dainty step with his shouldered fasces. Street musicians
there were also, and shows of various kinds, about which
the lower orders of the people collected eagerly; and, here
and there, among the white stoles and gayly colored shawls
of the matrons and maidens, might be seen the flowered
togas and showy head-dresses of those unfortunate girls,
many of them rare specimens of female beauty, whose
character precluded them from wearing the attire of their
own sex.

“Ha! Fabius Sanga, whither thou in such haste through
the crowd?” cried a fine manly voice, to a patrician of
middle age who was forcing his way hurriedly among the
jostling mob, near to the steps of the Comitium, or building
appropriated to the reception of ambassadors.

The person thus addressed turned his head quickly,
though without slackening his speed.

“Ah! is it thou, Arvina? Come with me, thou art
young and strong; give me thy arm, and help me through
this concourse.”

“Willingly,” replied the young man. “But why are
you in such haste?” he continued, as he joined him; “you
can have no business here to-day.”

“Aye! but I have, my Paullus. I am the patron to
these Gallic ambassadors, who have come hither to crave
relief from the Senate for their people. They must receive
their answer in the Comitium to-day; and I fear me
much, I am late.”

“Ah! by the Gods! I saw them on that day they entered
the city. Right stout and martial barbarians! What
is their plea? will they succeed?”

“I fear not,” answered Sanga. “They are too poor.
Senatorial relief must be bought nowadays. The longest
purse is the most righteous cause! Their case is a hard
one, too. Their nation is oppressed with debt, both private

and public; they have been faithful allies to the state,
and served it well in war, and now seek remission of some
grievous tributes. But what shall we say? They are
poor—barbarians—their aid not needed now by the republic—and,
as you know, my Paullus, justice is sol now
in Rome, like silk, for its weight in gold!”

“The more shame!” answered Paullus. “It was no
by such practices, that our fathers built up this granded
fice of the republic.”

“Riches have done it, Paullus! Riches and Commerce!
While we had many tillers of the ground, and few merchants,
we were brave in the field, and just at home!”

“Think you, then, that the spirit of commerce is averse
to justice, and bravery, and freedom?”

“No, I do not think it, Arvina, I know it!” answered
Fabius Sanga, who, with the truth and candor of a patrician
of Rome's olden school, possessed, and that justly,
much repute for wisdom and foresight. “All mercantile
communities are base communities. Look at Tyre, in old
times! Look at Carthage, in our grandfathers' days! at
Corinth in our own! Merchants are never patriots! and
rich men seldom; unless they be landholders! But see,
see, there are my clients, descending the steps of the Comitium!
By all the Gods! I am too late! their audience
is ended! Now, by Themis, the goddess of justice! will
they deem me also venal!”

As he spoke, they had come to the foot of the grand
flight of marble steps, leading up to the doors of the Græ
costasis, or comitium; or rather had come as near to the
foot, as the immense concourse, which had gathered about
that spot to stare at the wild figures and foreign gait of the
ambassadors, would allow them to approach.

“It is in vain to press forward yet, my Sanga. A moment
or two, and these clowns will be satisfied with gazing;
yet, by Hercules! I cannot blame them. For these
Highlanders are wondrous muscular and stout warriors to
look upon, and their garb, although somewhat savage, is
very martial and striking.”

And, in truth, their Celtic bonnets, with their long single
eagle feathers, set somewhat obliquely on their abundant
auburn hair; their saffron-colored shirts, tight-fitting trews
of tartan plaid, and variegated mantles floating over their

brawny shoulders, their chains and bracelets of gold and
silver, their long daggers in their girdles, and their tremendous
broad-swords swinging at their thighs, did present
a strange contrast to the simple tunics of white woollen,
and plain togas of the same material, which constituted
the attire of nine-tenths of the spectators.

“I must must get nearer!” replied Sanga, anxiously;
“I must speak with them! I can see by the moody
brows, and sullen looks of the elder nobles, and by the
compressed lips and fiery glances of the young warriors,
that matters have gone amiss with them. I shall be blamed,
I know, for it—but I have failed in my duty as their patron,
and must bear it. There will be mischief; I pray
you let us pass, my friends,” he continued, addressing the
people, “I am the patron of their nation; let us pass.”

But it was in vain that they besought and strove; the
pressure of the mob was, if anything, augmented; and
Paullus was compelled to remain motionless with his companion,
hoping that the Allobroges would move in their
direction.

But, while they were thus waiting, a thin keen-looking
man pressed up to the ambassadors, from the farther side,
while they were yet upon the steps, and saluting them cordially,
pressed their hands, as if he were an old and familiar
friend.

Nor did the Highlanders appear less glad to see him,
for they shook his hand warmly, and spoke to him with vehement
words, and sparkling eyes.

“Who is that man, who greets our Allobroges so warmly?”
asked Arvina of his companion. “Know you the
man?”

“I know him!” answered Sanga, watching the gestures
which accompanied their conversation with an eager eye,
although too far off to hear anything that was passing. “It
is one of these traders, of whom we spoke but now; and
as pestilent a knave and rogue as ever sold goods by short
measure, and paid his purchases in light coin! Publius
Umbrenus is the man. A Gallic trader. He hath become
rich by the business he hath carried on with this same tribe,
bartering Roman wares, goldsmith's work, trinkets, cutlery,
wines, and the like, against their furs and hides, and
above all against their amber. He gains three hundred

fold by every barter, and yet, by the God of Faith! he
brings them in his debt after all; and yet the simple-minded,
credulous Barbarians, believe him their best friend. I
would buy it at no small price, to know what he saith to
them. See! he points to the Comitium. By your head,
Paullus! he is poisoning their minds against the Senate!”

“See!” said Arvina. “They descend the steps in the
other direction. He is leading them away with him some-whither.”

“To no good end!” said Sanga emphatically; and then
smiting his breast with his hand, he continued, evidently
much afflicted, “My poor clients! my poor simple High-landers!
He will mislead them to their ruin?”

“They are going toward Vesta's temple,” said Arvina.
“If we should turn back through the arch of Fabius, and
so enter into the western branch of the Sacred Way, we
might overtake them near the Ruminal Fig-tree.”

“You might, for you are young and active. But I am
growing old, Paullus, and the gout afflicts my feet, and
makes me slower than my years. Will you do so, and
mark whither he leads them; and come back, and tell me?
You shall find me in Natta's, the bookseller's shop, at the
corner of the street Argiletum.”

“Willingly, Sanga,” answered the young man. “The
rather, if it may profit these poor Gauls anything.”

“Thou art a good youth, Paullus. The Gods reward it
to thee. Remember Natta's book-shop.”

“Doubt me not,” said Arvina; and he set off at a pace
so rapid, as brought him up with those, whom he was pursuing,
within ten minutes.

The ambassadors, six or eight in number, among whom
the old white-headed chief he had observed—when he went
with Hortensia and his betrothed, to see their ingress into
Rome—together with the young warrior whose haughty
bearing he had noticed on that occasion, were most eminent,
had been joined by another Roman beside Umbrenus.

Him, Paullus recognised at once, for Titus Volturcius, a
native and nobleman of Crotona, a Greek city, on the Gult
of Tarentum, although a citizen of Rome.

He was a man of evil repute, as a wild debauchee, a
gambler, and seducer; and Arvina had observed him more
than once in company with Cornelius Lentulus.

This led him to suspect, that Sanga was perhaps more
accurate in his suspicions, than he himself imagined; and
that something might be in progress here, against the republic.

He watched them warily, therefore; and soon found an
ample confirmation of the worst he imagined, in seeing
them enter the house of Decius Brutus, the husband of the
beautiful, but infamous Sempronia.

It must not be supposed, that the privity of these various
individuals to the conspiracy, was accurately known to young
Arvina; but he was well aware, that Lentulus and Catiline
were sworn friends; and that Sempronia was the very
queen of those abandoned and licentious ladies, who were
the instigators and rewarders of the young nobles, in their
profligacy and their crimes; it did not require, therefore,
any wondrous degree of foresight, to see that something
dangerous was probably brewing, in this amalgamation of ingredients
so incongruous, as Roman nobles and patrician
harlots, with wild barbarians from the Gallic highlands.

Without tarrying, therefore, longer than to ascertain that
he was not mistaken in the house, he hurried back to meet
Sanga, at the appointed place, promising himself that not
Sanga only, but Cicero himself, should be made acquainted
with that which he had discovered so opportunely.

The Argiletum was a street leading down from the
vegetable mart, which lay just beyond the Porta Fluminiana,
or river gate, to the banks of the Tiber, at the quays
called pulchrum littus, or the beautiful shore; it was therefore
a convenient place of meeting for persons who had
parted company in the forum, particularly when going in
that direction, which had been taken by Umbrenus and
the Ambassadors.

Hastening onward to the street appointed—which was
for the most part inhabited by booksellers, copyists, and
embellishers of illuminated manuscripts, beside a few tailors—he
was hailed, just as he reached the river gate, by
a well-known voice, from a cross street; and turning round
he felt his hand warmly grasped, by an old friend, Aristius
Fuscus, one of the noble youths, with whom he had striven,
in the Campus Martius, on that eventful day, when he
first visited the house of Catiline.

“Hail! Paullus,” exclaimed the new comer, “I have

not seen you in many days. Where have you been, since
you beat us all in the quinquernum?”

“Absent from town, on business of the state, part of the
time, my Fuscus.” answered Arvina, shaking his friend's
hand gayly. “I was sent to Præneste, with my troop of
horse, before the calends of November; and returned not
until the Ides.”

“And since that, I fancy”—replied the other laughing,
“You have been sunning yourself in the bright smiles of
the fair Julia. I thought you were to have led her home,
as your bride, ere this time.”

“You are wrong for once, good friend,” said Paullus,
with a well-pleased smile. “Julia is absent from the city
also. She and Hortensia are on a visit to their farm, at the
foot of Mount Algidus. I have not seen them, since my
return from Præneste.”

“Your slaves, I trow, know every mile-stone by this
time, on the via Labicana! Do you write to her daily?”

“Not so, indeed, Aristius;” he replied. “We are
too long betrothed, and too confident, each in the good
faith of the other, to think it needful to kill my poor slaves
in bearing amatory billets.”

“You are wise, Paullus, as you are true, and will, I
hope, be happy lovers!”

“The Gods grant it!” replied Paullus.

“Do they return shortly? It is long since I have visited
Hortensia. She would do justly to refuse me admittance
when next I go to salute her.”

“Not until after the next market day. But here I must
leave you; I am going to Natta's shop, in the Argiletum.”

“To purchase books? Ha! or to the tailor's? the last,
I presume, gay bridegroom—there are, you know, two
Nattas.”

“Natta, the bookseller, is my man. But I go thither, not
as a buyer, but to meet a friend, Fabius Sanga.”

“A very wise and virtuous Roman,” replied the other,
stopping at the corner of the street Argiletum, “but tarry
a moment; when shall we meet again? I am going down
to the hippodrome, can you not join me there, when you
have finished your business with Sanga?”

“I can; gladly.” answered Arvina.

As they stopped, previous to separating, a young man,

who had been walking for some distance close at their heets,
passed them, nodding as he did so, to Arvina, who returned
his salutation, very distantly.

“Aulus Fulvius!” said Aristius, as Paullus bowed
to him, “as bad a specimen of a young patrician, as one
might see for many days, even if he searched for rascals,
as the philosopher did for an honest man, by lanthorn's
light at noon. He has been following our steps, by my
head!—to pick up our stray words, and weave them into
calumnies, and villainy.”

“I care not,” answered Arvina, lightly. “He may make
all he can of what he heard, we were talking no treason!”

“No, truly; not even lover's treason,” said his friend.
“Well, do not tarry long, Arvina.”

“I will not; be assured. Not the fourth part of an hour.
See! there is Fabius Sanga awaiting me even now.
Walk slowly, and I will overtake you, before you reach the
Campus.”

And with the word, he turned down the Argiletum, and
joined the patron of the Allobroges, at the bookseller's
door.

In the meantime Aulus Fulvius, who had heard all that
he desired, wheeled about, and walked back toward the
Carmental gate. But, as he passed the head of the Argiletum,
he cast a lurid glance of singular malignity upon Arvina,
who was standing in full view, conversing with his
friend; and muttered between his teeth,

“The fool! the hypocrite! the pedant! well said, wise
Catiline, `that it matters not much whether one listen to
his friends, so he listen well to his enemies!' The fool—
so he thinks he shall have Julia. But he never shall, by
Hades! never!”

A slenderly made boy, dressed in a succinct huntsman's
tunic, with subligacula, or drawers, reaching to within a
hand's breadth of his knee, was loitering near the corner,
gazing wistfully on Arvina; and, as Aulus muttered those
words half aloud, he jerked his head sharply around, and
looked very keenly at the speaker.

“Never shall have Julia!” he repeated to himself, “he
must have spoken that concerning Arvina. I wonder who
he is. I never saw him before. I must know—I must

know, forthwith! For he shall have her, by heaven and
Him, who dwells in it! he shall have her!”

And, turning a lingering and languid look toward Paullus,
the slight boy darted away in pursuit of Aulus.

A moment afterward Arvina, his conference with Sanga
ended, and ignorant of all that by-play, took the road
leading to the Campus, eager to overtake his friend Aristius.