Volume Ii Part 26 (1/2)
It was in perfect keeping with the Roman character, that a man, hopeless of success, should die without an effort; and to the fullest, Lentulus acted out that character.
Impa.s.sive and unmoved, he went to his death. He disgraced his evil life by no cowardice in death; by no fruitless call upon the people for a.s.sistance, by no vain cry to the n.o.bles for mercy.
But it was the impa.s.sibility of the Epicurean, not of the Stoic, that sustained him.
He went to die, like his brother democrats of France, with the madness of Atheism in his heart, the mirth of Perdition on his tongue.
They two, the Convict and the Consul, ascended a little, two or three steps, to the left, and entered a large apartment, paved, walled, and roofed with stone; but in the centre of the floor there was a small round aperture.
There were a dozen persons in that guard-room, four of whom were his fellow-traitors-Gabinius, Statilius, Caeparius, and Cethegus-two praetors, four legionaries, and two Moorish slaves composed the group, until with the Triumvirs, and his twelve lictors, Cicero entered.
”Ha! my Caeparius!” exclaimed Lentulus, who had not seen him since the morning of his arrest. ”We have met again. But I slept my sleep out. Thou might'st as well have slept too; for we are both met here”-
”To die! to die! Great G.o.ds! to die!” cried Caeparius utterly overcome, and almost fainting with despair.
”Great G.o.ds indeed!” replied Lentulus with his accustomed half-sardonic, half-indolent sneer. ”They must be great, indeed, to let such a puppet as that,” and he pointed to Cicero, as he spoke, ”do as he will with us. To die! to die! Tush-what is that but to sleep? to sleep without the trouble of awaking, or the annoyance of to-morrow? What sayest thou, my Cethegus?”
”That thou art a sluggard, a fool, and a coward; curses! curses! curses upon thee!” And he made an effort to rush against his comrade, as if to strike him; and, when the guards seized him and dragged him back, he shook his fist at Cicero, and gnashed his teeth, and howling out, ”Thou too!
thou too shalt die proscribed, and thy country's foe!” by a sudden effort cast off the men who held him, and crying, ”Slaves and dastards, see how a Roman n.o.ble dies,” rushed, with his head down, at the solid wall, as a buffalo rushes blindly against an elephant.
He fell as if he were dead, the blood gus.h.i.+ng from eyes, nose, and mouth, and lay senseless.
Lentulus thought he was killed, gazed on him for a moment tranquilly, and then said with a quiet laugh-
”He was a fool always-a rash fool!” Then turning to Cicero, he added-”By Hercules! this is slow work. I am exceeding hungry, and somewhat dry; and, as I fancy I shall eat nothing more to-day, nor drink, I would fain go to sleep.”
”Would'st thou drink, Lentulus?” asked one of the Triumvirs.
”Would I not, had I wine?”
”Bring wine,” said the magistrate to one of the Moorish slaves; who went out and returned in an instant with a large brazen platter supporting several goblets.
Lentulus seized one quickly, and swallowed it at a mouthful-there is a hot thirst in that last excitement-but as the flavor reached his palate, when the roughness of the harsh draught had pa.s.sed away, he flung the cup down scornfully and said,
”Finish it! Take this filthy taste from my lips! Let me rest!”
And with the words, he advanced to the Moors who stood beside the well-like aperture, and without a word suffered them to place the rope under his arms, and lower him into the pit.
Just as his head, however, was disappearing, he cast his eyes upward, and met the earnest gaze of the Consul.
”The voice of the people! the man of the people!” he cried sarcastically.
”Fool! fool! _they_ shall avenge me! Think upon me near Formiae!”
Was that spite, or a prophecy?
The eyes of the dying sometimes look far into futurity.