The Historians' History of the World 05

When he had made a complete survey, he gave the signal with the trumpet, and ordered the cohorts to advance slowly. The army of the enemy followed his example; and when they approached so near that the action could be commenced by the light-armed troops, both sides, with a loud shout, rushed together in a furious charge. They threw aside their missiles, and fought only with their swords. The veterans, calling to mind their deeds of old, engaged fiercely in the closest combat. The enemy made an obstinate resistance; and both sides contended with the utmost fury. Catiline, during this time, was exerting himself with his light troops in the front, sustaining such as were pressed, substituting fresh men for the wounded, attending to every exigency, charging in person, wounding many an enemy, and performing at once the duties of a valiant soldier and a skilful general.

When Petreius, contrary to his expectation, found Catiline attacking him with such impetuosity, he led his prætorian cohort against the centre of the enemy, amongst whom, being thus thrown into confusion, and offering but partial resistance, he made great slaughter, and ordered, at the same time, an assault on both flanks. Manlius and the Fæsulan, sword in hand, were among the first that fell; and Catiline, when he saw his army routed, and himself left with but few supporters, remembering his birth and former dignity, rushed into the thickest of the enemy, where he was slain, fighting to the last.

When the battle was over, it was plainly seen what boldness, and what energy of spirit, had prevailed throughout the army of Catiline; for, almost everywhere, every soldier, after yielding up his breath, covered with his corpse the spot which he had occupied when alive. A few, indeed, whom the prætorian cohort had dispersed, had fallen somewhat differently, but all with wounds in front. Catiline himself was found, far in advance of his men, among the dead bodies of the enemy; he was not quite breathless, and still expressed in his countenance the fierceness of spirit which he had shown during his life. Of his whole army, neither in the battle, nor in flight, was any free-born citizen made prisoner, for they had spared their own lives no more than those of the enemy.

Nor did the army of the Roman people obtain a joyful or bloodless victory; for all their bravest men were either killed in the battle, or left the field severely wounded.

Of many who went from the camp to view the ground, or plunder the slain, some, in turning over the bodies of the enemy, discovered a friend, others an acquaintance, others a relative; some, too, recognised their enemies. Thus, gladness and sorrow, grief and joy, were variously felt throughout the whole army.d

While the generals of the republic were still hunting the common enemy in the Apennines, and even before the execution of Lentulus, the leaders of the senate had been quarrelling among themselves, as if they had no one to fear either within or without the city. The election of consuls for the ensuing year had fallen upon D. Junius Silanus and L. Licinius Murena. We have seen that Catiline had presumed to offer himself; but a worthier candidate, the great jurist Sulpicius, was also disappointed, and resenting the notorious bribery employed by his rivals, had rushed to prosecute Murena. Bribery there had been probably on all sides, and Rome could ill afford at such a moment to waste her energies in a private squabble. Cicero, intent upon his schemes for the frustration of the conspiracy, could not endure that the public attention should be withdrawn to the miserable intrigues of the rival candidates, and stepped forward to defend Murena. But Cato, insensible to every argument from expediency, and unable to see two sides of any question, supported the suit of the accuser with headlong pertinacity. A part of Cicero’s speech was directed to undermine the influence of so virtuous an advocate. “Would you know, judges, what sort of person a sage of the Porch is? He concedes nothing to favour, he never pardons. Compassion, he says, is frivolousness and folly; the wise only are beautiful, though crooked and deformed; he only is rich though a beggar, a lord though a slave; but we, he declares, who are no sages, are no better than runaways, outlaws, enemies, and madmen. All faults, he affirms, are equal; every error is a heinous sin; to wring a fowl’s neck without just reason is as bad as to strangle one’s father. The wise man never doubts, never repents, is never deceived, can never change his mind.” And in this strain he continued to the infinite amusement of his audience, who were well pleased to hear the philosopher bantered. Cato joined good-humouredly in the laugh. “How witty a consul we possess,” was the only remark he made. Nor did he afterwards retain any feeling of displeasure against the orator who both defeated his prosecution and turned him into ridicule.[103]

THE RISE OF JULIUS CÆSAR

[62 B.C.]