Camillus

But Livy[*](v. 22.) says that Camillus did indeed lay his hand upon the goddess and pray and beseech her, but that it was certain of the bystanders who gave answer that she was ready and willing and eager to go along with him. Those who insist upon and defend the marvel have a most powerful advocate for their contention in the fortune of the city, which, from its small and despised beginning, could never have come to such a pinnacle of glory and power had God not dwelt with her and made many great manifestations of himself from time to time.

Moreover, they adduce other occurrences of a kindred sort, such as statues often dripping with sweat, images uttering audible groans, turning away their faces, and closing their eyes, as not a few historians in the past have written. And we ourselves might make mention of many astonishing things which we have heard from men of our own time,—things not lightly to be despised. But in such matters eager credulity and excessive incredulity are alike dangerous, because of the weakness of our human nature, which sets no limits and has no mastery over itself, but is carried away now into vain superstition, and now into contemptuous neglect of the gods. Caution is best, and to go to no extremes.

Whether it was due to the magnitude of his exploit in taking a city which could vie with Rome and endure a siege of ten years, or to the congratulations showered upon him, Camillus was lifted up to vanity, cherished thoughts far from becoming to a civil magistrate subject to the law, and celebrated a triumph with great pomp: he actually had four white horses harnessed to a chariot on which he mounted and drove through Rome, a thing which no commander had ever done before or afterwards did. For they thought such a car sacred and devoted to the king and father of the gods.

In this way he incurred the enmity of the citizens, who were not accustomed to wanton extravagance. They had also a second grievance against him in that he opposed himself to a law dividing the city. The tribunes introduced a measure dividing the people and the Senate into two parts, one to remain and dwell there, and the one on which the lot fell to remove into the city they had captured, on the ground that they would thus be more commodiously bestowed, and with two large and fair cities could better protect their territory as well as their prosperity in general.

Accordingly the people, which was now become numerous and poor, welcomed the measure with delight, and was for ever thronging tumultuously about the rostra with demands that it be put to vote. But the Senate and the most influential of the other citizens considered that the measure proposed by the tribunes meant not division but destruction for Rome, and in their aversion to it went to Camillus for aid and succour.

He, dreading the struggle, always contrived to keep the people busy with other matters, and so staved off the passage of the bill. For this reason, then, they were vexed with him. But the strongest and most apparent reason why the multitude hated him was based on the matter of the tenth of the spoil of Veii, and herein they had a plausible, though not a very just ground of complaint.

He had vowed, as it seems, on setting out against Veii, that if he should take the city, he would consecrate the tenth of its booty to the Delphian god. But after the city had been taken and sacked, he allowed his soldiers full enjoyment of their plunder, either because he shrank from annoying them, or because, in the multitude of his activities, he as good as forgot his vow. At a later time, when he had laid down his command, he referred the matter to the Senate, and the seers announced tokens in their sacrifices that the gods were angry, and must be propitiated with due offerings.