he Romans, though they
shed blood like water in their civil strife, were singularly lenient in
their punishments. Not long afterwards he died.

His widow saw in his death an opportunity of gratifying the unnatural
hatred which she had long felt for her son Cluentius. She would accuse
him of poisoning his step-father. Her first attempt failed completely.
She subjected three slaves to torture, one of them her own, another
belonged to the younger Oppianicus, a third the property of the
physician who had attended the deceased in his last illness. But the
cruelties and tortures extorted no confession from the men. At last the
friends whom she had summoned to be present at the inquiry compelled her
to desist. Three years afterwards she renewed the attempt. She had taken
one of the three tortured slaves into high favor, and had established
him as a physician at Larinum. The man committed an audacious robbery in
his mistress's house, breaking open a chest and abstracting from it a
quantity of silver coin and five pounds weight of gold. At the same time
he murdered two of his fellow-slaves, and threw their bodies into the
fish-pond. Suspicion fell upon the missing slaves. But when the chest
came to be closely examined, the opening was found to be of a very
curious kind. A friend remembered that he had lately seen among the
miscellaneous articles at an auction a circular saw which would have
made just such an opening. It was found that this saw had been bought by
the physician. He was now charged with the crime. Thereupon a young lad
who had been his accomplice came forward and told the story. The bodies
were found in the fish-pond. The guilty slave was tortured. He confessed
the deed, and he also confessed, his mistress declared, that he had
given poison to Oppianicus at the instance of Cluentius. No opportunity
was given for further inquiry. His confession made, the man was
immediately executed. Under strong compulsion from his step-mother, the
younger Oppianicus now took up the case, and indicted Cluentius for
murder. The evidence was very weak, little or nothing beyond the very
doubtful confession spoken of above; but then there was a very violent
prejudice against the accused. There had been a suspicion--perhaps more
than a suspicion--of foul play in the trial which had ended in the
condemnation of Oppianicus. The defendant, men said, might have
attempted to bribe the jury, but the plaintiff had certainly done so. It
would b