|
How is it that neither Juno, who with her husband Jupiter even then
cherished "Rome's sons, the nation of the gown," nor Venus
herself, could assist the children of the loved Æneas to find wives by
some right and equitable means? For the lack of this entailed upon the
Romans the lamentable necessity of stealing their wives, and then
waging war with their fathers-in-law; so that the wretched women,
before they had recovered from the wrong done them by their husbands,
were dowried with the blood of their fathers. "But the Romans
conquered their neighbors." Yes; but with what wounds on both
sides, and with what sad slaughter of relatives and neighbors! The
war of Caesar and Pompey was the contest of only one father-in-law
with one son-in-law; and before it began, the daughter of Caesar,
Pompey's wife, was already dead. But with how keen and just an
accent of grief does Lucan exclaim: "I sing that worse than civil
war waged in the plains of Emathia, and in which the crime was
justified by the victory!"
The Romans, then, conquered that they might, with hands stained in
the blood of their fathers-in-law, wrench the miserable girls from
their embrace, girls who dared not weep for their slain parents, for
fear of offending their victorious husbands; and while yet the battle
was raging, stood with their prayers on their lips, and knew not for
whom to utter them.
Such nuptials were certainly prepared for the Roman people not by
Venus, but Bellona; or possibly that infernal fury Alecto had more
liberty to injure them now that Juno was aiding them, than when the
prayers of that goddess had excited her against Æneas. Andromache in
captivity was happier than these Roman brides. For though she was a
slave, yet, after she had become the wife of Pyrrhus, no more
Trojans fell by his hand but the Romans slew in battle the very
fathers of the brides they fondled. Andromache, the victor's
captive, could only mourn, not fear, the death of her people. The
Sabine women, related to men still combatants, feared the death of
their fathers when their husbands went out to battle, and mourned their
death as they returned, while neither their grief nor their fear could
be freely expressed. For the victories of their husbands, involving
the destruction of fellow-townsmen, relatives, brothers, fathers,
caused either pious agony or cruel exultation. Moreover, as the
fortune of war is capricious, some of them lost their husbands by the
sword of their parents, while others lost husband and father together
in mutual destruction. For the Romans by no means escaped with
impunity, but they were driven back within their walls, and defended
themselves behind closed gates; and when the gates were opened by
guile, and the enemy admitted into the town, the Forum itself was the
field of a hateful and fierce engagement of fathers-in-law and
sons-in-law. The ravishers were indeed quite defeated, and, flying
on all sides to their houses, sullied with new shame their original
shameful and lamentable triumph. It was at this juncture that
Romulus, hoping no more from the valor of his citizens, prayed
Jupiter that they might stand their ground; and from this occasion the
god gained the name of Stator. But not even thus would the mischief
have been finished, had not the ravished women themselves flashed out
with dishevelled hair, and cast themselves before their parents, and
thus disarmed their just rage, not with the arms of victory, but with
the supplications of filial affection. Then Romulus, who could not
brook his own brother as a colleague, was compelled to accept Titus
Tatius, king of the Sabines, as his partner on the throne. But how
long would he who misliked the fellowship of his own twin-brother
endure a stranger? So, Tatius being slain, Romulus remained sole
king, that he might be the greater god. See what rights of marriage
these were that fomented unnatural wars.
These were the Roman leagues of kindred, relationship, alliance,
religion. This was the life of the city so abundantly protected by the
gods. You see how many severe things might be said on this theme; but
our purpose carries us past them, and requires our discourse for other
matters.
|
|