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"Fill now! fill all!" cried Cataline, and with the word he drained a brimming cup. "Rare liquor this, my Marcus," he continued; "whence had’st thou this Falernian? ’tis of thine inmost brand, I doubt not. In whose consulship did it imbibe the smoke?" "The first of Caius Marius." "Forty-four years, a ripe age," said Cethegus, "but twill be better forty years hence.
That he was brave we know, but so was Cataline; that he believed in himself we like to believe, and so did Arius of Alexandria; that he carried the people with him is certain, and so did they who crucified Jesus; but that he was a turbulent fellow, a puritan, a vandal, a boaster, a wind-bag, a discredited prophet, and a superstitious failure, we also know, as he doubtless did at last, when the wild beast he had roused had him by the throat, and burnt him in the fire he had invoked.
A burst of acclamations replied to the happy hit, and seeing now his aim entirely accomplished, Cataline checked the revel; their blood was up; no fear of chilling counsels! "Now then," he said, "before we drink like boon companions, let us consult like men; there is need now of counsel; that once finished"—— "Fulvia awaits me," interrupted Cassius, "Fulvia, worth fifty revels!"
Did not Cicero's divine eloquence appear more popular than the Agrarian law he attacked? Did it not disconcert the audacious measures of Cataline? And did not he, even in his civil capacity, obtain by it honors that are conferred on only the most illustrious conquerors?
On the other hand, if some deed of mercy or generosity meets our eye, what reverence and love does it inspire! Do we not say to ourselves, "I should like to have done that myself"? What does it matter to us that two thousand years ago a man was just or unjust? and yet we take the same interest in ancient history as if it happened yesterday. What are the crimes of Cataline to me?
In Cataline, which upon the whole is preferable to Sejanus, he is also to be blamed for not having blended the dissimilarity of the masses. The first act possesses most elevation, though it disgusts us from its want of moderation: we see a secret assembly of conspirators, and nature appears to answer the furious inspiration of wickedness by dreadful signs.
And here, meet scene for orgies such as it beheld, Rome’s parricides were wont to hold their murderous assemblies. With a slow stealthy tread, that woke no echo, Cataline advanced to the door.
Ha! ha! by Hercules! it makes me laugh—frightened the rash and overbold Cethegus!" "It was not all!" replied Cethegus very calmly, "it was not all, Cataline.
"First swear we!" answered Cataline. "Læca, the eagle, and the bowl!"
Does not Cæsar, the friend of Cataline, wishing to save his friend's life against this same Cicero, object to him that to make a criminal die is not to punish him at all, that death is nothing, that it is merely the end of our ills, that it is a moment more happy than calamitous? And do not Cicero and the whole senate surrender to these reasons?
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