Caius Gracchus :: :: University of Virginia Library

No; I mean the master of the people; the gentleman
who feels for their empty stomachs, and gives them words to
eat; your Caius Gracchus, who calls our tradesmen the nobility
of Rome; and so indeed they are, if rags can make them so.

Mar.

No bad evidence! You cannot wear the wool without
shearing the sheep. But, pray, what's the matter with Caius
Gracchus?

Sex.

Only that he has returned from the army without his
general's leave,—nothing more, except a whisper or two about
the tumult at Fregella. 'Tis said he had a hand in it.

Mar.

What's your opinion?

Sex.

Believe me, it does not favour him.

Tit.

What! you like the fare that the patricians give?

Sex.

What fare?

Tit.

A good dinner. Caius, you say, feeds the people upon
words. A very natural preference! There's not a dog or an
ass in Rome that would not be of your mind.

Sex.
[Raising his staff.]

Pray which of the two may you be,
friend?

Mar.

Why ask you?

Sex.

Oh! merely that, upon occasion, I may know whether
I ought to take my foot or my staff to you. No offence, I
hope. I have all the respect in the world for you, believe me.

Tit.
[To Marcus.]

You have the worst of it. Let me take
him in hand. [To Sextus.]
Hark you, master; a word with
you.

Sex.

Your pleasure, master?

Tit.

How comes your cloak to have that gloss upon it?

Sex.

Not by partaking of your grease, friend.

Tit.

My grease! Why, man, there's as much fat in a tanned
hide as in all my body! The patricians have sweated me to
very leanness, and left me nothing to recruit withal, but hunger
and nakedness.

Sex.

They are right. They find that their cattle grow restive
with abundance of provender.

Tit.

But they feed their curs, friend.

Sex.

Whom do you call a cur?

Tit.

Down with your staff, master, for I have another that
may ruffle the gloss of your cloak for you. What! has anything
surprised you? Do you wonder that the order which wins
your battles in the field, should refuse your blows in the city?
You despise us when you have no need of us; but if an ounce
of power or peculation is to be gained through our means,
oh! then you put on your sweet looks, and, bowing to the very
belts of our greasy jackets, you exclaim, “Fair gentlemen!—
kind fellow-citizens!—loving comrades!—sweet, worthy, gentle
Romans!—grant us your voices!” Or, if the enemy is to be
opposed, oh! then we are “men of mettle!”—(poor starved
devils!)—“the defenders of our country!”—(that is, your cattle
as you call us)—and so indeed we are. We bear your patricians
on our backs to victory; we carry them proudly through the
ranks of the barbarians! They come off safe—we get the
knocks, the pricks, and the scratches. They obtain crowns
and triumphs,—we cannot obtain—a dinner! They get their
actions recorded—we get ours forgotten! They receive new
names and titles—we return to our old ones with which you
honour us—“the rabble!—the herd!—the cattle!—the vermin!
—the scum of Rome!”

Sex.

Pray, friend, will you look at this staff of mine?

Tit.

I look at it, friend.

Sex.

Is it not a staff, friend?

Tit.

Yes, if a staff is a staff, friend.

Sex.

If I am weary, it enables me to rest myself; if I am
lame, it helps me to walk; if I quarrel, it knocks down my
adversary; and yet, is it not always a staff, friend?

Mar.
[To Titus.]

You have the worst of it now. Let me

attack him. Hark you, master. Does your staff ever knock
its owner on the pate?

Sex.

What do you mean?

Mar.
[Striking him.]

Why thus.

Sex.

Do you want to quarrel?

Mar.

Oh! by no means. I only wanted to show you the
difference between a staff and a man, friend.

Tit.

Turn on him again. I'll second you, and here is a troop
of friends at hand.

Qui.

Bear with him no longer. Hither comes a band of our
comrades. I'll beckon them to make haste. [Calling off.]

Come on, come on! These greasy citizens are uttering treason
against our masters, the noble patricians.

Enter Servants.
Mar.

Hem!—Shall we go over the argument again, master?
Is there anything else your staff can do?

Sex.

Yes; when I carry it heedlessly, it sometimes chances
to—trip me.

[Trips Marcus.
Tit.
Help, help, there!

[Enter Citizens.—Confused cry of “Down with the Citizens!” “Down with the Slaves and Servants!” They are about to attack each other, when Flaminius's voice without stops them.
Enter Flaminius, Tuditanus, Opimius, Senators, two Censors, and twelve Lictors.
Fla.
Hold! hold! I charge you, you rash citizens!
What means this tumult? How! is peace so old
That you are weary of it? Who began
This fray?

Sex.
That caitiff yonder.

Tit.
Our old names!

Mar.
'Twas that patrician's hireling that began it.

Caius Gracchus, and his Friends Pomponius and Licinius, appear behind.
Opi.
Silence! ye wrangling discontented men!
Ye pest of Rome! What stirs you to this brawl?
I know your cue!—Your Gracchus has return'd,
And ye give signal straight of discontent,
Conspiracy, and foul rebellion!
A noble leader for your noble party!
A glorious soldier, that returns to Rome
Without his general's leave! A worthy son
Of Rome, that tampers with her enemies,
And instigates her allies to revolt!
An honest patriot—

[Seeing Caius Gracchus close to him, he checks himself.
Caius.
Proceed, Opimius!
Now is your proper time to speak. I am here—

Gracchus is here! Gracchus, that draws not on
A foe behind his back!

[Opimius is confused—he walks sullenly to the place appointed for him as the accuser of Caius Gracchus —Gracchus fixes his eyes steadfastly upon Opimius, who betrays considerable embarrassment.
Opi.
[Recovering.]
This lofty bearing
Befits the man who quits his post, without
His general's leave; and used the sacred power
His office gave him, to pervert the faith
His duty 'twas to guard; as, amply, can
Fregella testify!

Caius.
Is this your charge?
Censors! I'll save your labour. It appears
I am cited here, because I have return'd
Without my general's leave, and for the crime
Of having raised the tumult at Fregella.
First, with the first. I have remain'd my time;
Nay, I have overserved it by the laws—
The laws which Caius Gracchus dares not break.
But, censors, let that pass. I shall propose
A better question for your satisfaction:
“How have I served my time?” I'll answer that.
“How have I served my time?”—“For mine own gain,
Or that of the republic?” What was my office?
Questor. What was its nature? Lucrative;
So lucrative, that all my predecessors,
Who went forth poor, return'd home rich—so rich
Their very wine-vessels resign'd their store
Of fluid wealth, only for wealthier freight
Of solid gold. I went forth, poor enough;
But have return'd still poorer than I went.
Then, for my conduct as a soldier,
I do not blush to say, I have prevail'd
By mercy more than rapine. I have won
From enemies their hearts, before their arms;
And held the tributary states to Rome,
By friendship more than fear. I have answer'd that.

First Censor.
If you have served your time, and faithfully
Discharged your duty, as a Roman questor,
So far you are acquitted.

Opi.
To the next, then—
The tumult at Fregella.

Caius.
Ay, to that!
Produce your proofs!

Opi.
I charge you, as your general.

Caius.
Your proofs—your evidence—your witnesses.

Opi.
Is it from thee I hear this haughty challenge?
Who best should know thy actions? Wast thou not
Mine officer? I charge thee with the treason.
Before the gods, I charge thee with it, Caius;
I say, I charge thee as thy general.

Caius.
Thou daring noble! Is it to the face
Of these upright authorities, thou claim'st
To be at once the witness and accuser?
Say, censors, is it fit? Is it the law?

First Censor.
The law permits it not. The accusation
And proof, in such a case, cannot reside
In the same person. Caius Gracchus, therefore,
Is free, unless you furnish other warrant
For his impeachment.

[The Censors rise.
Opi.
Censors, it is fit
You look to the public safety. If our criminals
Escape their penalties, your prisons and
Your chains will soon be our inheritance.

Caius.
Have the laws lost their reverence?

Fla.
The charge
Is heavy!

Caius.
Heavy as the proofs are light.
Ye citizens of Rome, behold what favour
Your masters show your brethren! I have borne
My country's arms with honour; overserved
My time; return'd in poverty, that might
Have amass'd treasures; and they thus reward me—
Prefer a charge against me without proof,
Direct or indirect—without a testimony,
Weighty or light—without an argument,
Idle or plausible—without as much
Of feasibility, as would suffice
To feed suspicion's phantom! Why is this?
How have I bought this hatred? When my brother,
Tiberius Gracchus, fell beneath their blows,
I call'd them not assassins! When his friends
Fell sacrifices to their after-vengeance,
I did not style them butchers! When their hatred
Drove the Numidian nobles from the senate,
With scoffs and execrations, when they praised me,
And to my cause assign'd the royal bounty
Of King Micipsa, still I did not call them
The proud, invidious, insolent patricians!

[The people cheer vehemently.
Opi.
Hear ye!

Caius.
Ye men of Rome, there is no favour
For justice!—Grudgingly her dues are granted!
Your great men boast no more the love of country!
They count their talents—measure their domains—
Number their slaves—make lists of knights and clients—
Enlarge their palaces—dress forth their banquets,
Awake their lyres and timbrels, and with their floods
Of ripe Falernian, drown the little left
Of Roman virtue!

Opi.
He would raise a tumult!

Caius.
This hand 's the first to turn against the man,
Whoe'er he be, that favours civil discord!
I have no gust for blood, Opimius!
I sacrifice to justice and to mercy!

Opi.
He has aspersed the justice of our order;
He flatters the plebeians, and should be
Attach'd and brought to question for this conduct.

Caius.
Romans, I ask the office of your tribune!

[Tumultuous cheers.
Mar.
Ay! you shall have it! Gracchus shall be tribune!

Tit.
Gracchus tribune! Caius Gracchus tribune!

Opi.
Stay, friends! Take heed! Beware of flatterers!

Caius.
The laws! the laws! that guard the common right!
The wealth, the happiness, the freedom of
The nation! Who has hidden them—defaced them—
Sold them—corrupted them from the pure letter?
Why do they guard the rich man's cloak from a rent,
And tear the poor man's garment from his back?
Why are they, in the proud man's grasp, a sword,
And in the hand of the humble man, a reed?
The laws! the laws! I ask you for the laws!
Demand them in my country's sacred name!
Still silent? Reckless still of my appeal?
Romans! I ask the office of your tribune!

[Caius Gracchus and his party go out, followed by Citizens, shouting.
Opi.
Stop him from rising, or our order falls!

[Opimius, and the rest, go out.