binus by hopes of coming
to terms, and meanwhile tampering with his officers. Then, on a
dark night, he surrounded the army. The traitors whom he had bribed
deserted their posts. The soldiers threw away their arms, and next day
Jugurtha forced Aulus to agree to go under the yoke, to make peace,
and, perhaps, in mockery of the Senate's treatment of the Numidian
envoys, to leave Numidia in ten days. Of course the Senate would not
acknowledge the treaty. Nor did they even go through the farce of
surrendering the man who had made it. The chivalry of the era of
Regulus would have seemed quixotic to cynics like Scaurus. The other
Albinus, hastening to Africa, found the troops mutinous, and could
effect nothing. Another tribune now stepped forward to impeach all,
whether soldiers or civilians, who had assisted Jugurtha to the
prejudice of the State. In spite of the aid of the rich Latins, who
had just been gratified by the remission of the vectigal, the
senators were beaten and the bill passed. Triumvirs were appointed to
investigate the matter; but one of them was Scaurus, sure to float
most buoyantly where the scum of scoundrelism was thickest. [Sidenote:
Banishment of Romans who had taken Jugurtha's bribes.] The judices
were equites, and among those condemned were Bestia, Sp. Albinus,
Opimius, and Caius Cato, the grandson of Cato the censor. Opimius died
at Dyrrhachium, a poor man; and probably no harder punishment could
have befallen him.

The history of the Jugurthine war has been thus far related at greater
length than the space at command would warrant if it was merely a
history of military details. But it is a striking commentary on the
politics of the time and the vices of the government. The state of
society could not be more succinctly summed up than in the words with
which Jugurtha quitted Rome. What was it which made the nobles so
greedy of money as to be lost to all shame in hunting for it? A speech
supposed to have been delivered that very year partly answers the
question: 'Gourmands say that a meal is not all that it ought to be
unless, precisely when you are relishing most what you are eating,
your plate is removed and another, and better, and richer one is
put in its place. Your exquisite, who makes extravagance and
fastidiousness pass for wit, calls that the "bloom of a meal." "The
only bird," says he, "which you should eat whole is the becafico. Of
every other bird, wild or tame, nothing, unless your host