The Forum, then, was laid out is a regular form by Tarquin the Elder, for which reason he is often spoken of as its founder; and its length and breadth were never changed from the days when, under his command, the people began to make their city great and strong.

Many other plans also had this mighty king, but his life was not long enough for the carrying out of them all, and his vast works were left to be finished by the last two kings of Rome. Little was done by Servius Tullius, the first of these, but Tarquin the Proud, a hard and unjust man, forced the Romans to give both their money and their strength to complete that which his grandfather had begun. In the Forum, he commanded the people to build a temple to Saturn on the place where the old altar stood, and he sent them under the ground to labour on the great drains, and made them toil, like slaves, without reward. At last, however, a day came when the oppressed people rose and said, "There shall be no more kings!" and Tarquin the Proud was driven from his throne, and the reign of the kings was ended.

The Forum, at this time, was the centre of a nation growing strong and famous, and it told a story of energy and progress—told by the great drains, of the energy of a people who, from such swampy ground, could make so firm a foundation for their city; told by the temples, of their progress in religion; by the market-place, of their progress in trade; and by the Regia, the Curia, and the Tullianum, of their progress in government—and it stood forth as a sign to the peoples of the earth that a great nation had been formed among them.

In the time of the Republic, the first building placed in the Forum told the tale of a great victory. This was a temple to Castor and Pollux, the twin sons of the god Jupiter, and was made in gratitude for their aid in an hour of sore distress. For Tarquin the Proud, striving to regain his lost kingdom, had been joined by men from other cities, and had come against the Romans at Lake Regillus, not far from Rome, and during this fierce battle Castor and Pollux, in glistening armour, and on pure white steeds, had fought with the Romans, and then, having won for them the victory of the day, had brought to the Forum the good news of their success. So the people honoured the great Twin Brothers, the guardians of all brave warriors, and made a temple on the spot where they had stood.

However, all the battles of the Romans, in the time of the Republic, were not waged with enemies beyond their gates, nor yet with those of foreign lands, for many of them were fought among the people of Rome itself, and within the city's very walls. The chief field of battle was the Forum, and in it took place fight after fight in that bitterest of wars—the struggle between the rich and the poor.

Now the rich men of Rome were those of the old families, and were called Patricians because the patres, or fathers, had helped to govern the nation since the days when the chiefs had aided Romulus; while the poor men of Rome were those of the new families, and were called Plebeians because they were the "people," and had come in from conquered tribes or from other cities. So the Patricians were the governors, the law-makers, and the money-lenders; but the Plebeians were the workmen, the farmers, and the common soldiers.

In the long strife between these Patricians of the Comitium, and these Plebeians of the open Forum, the rich fought for power, the poor struggled for justice. Often, after fighting for his country, the poor Plebeian came back only to find his lands seized and his home in ruins. This forced him to borrow from the rich Patrician, allowed by unjust laws to put him in prison when he could not pay, to sell his whole family as slaves, to torture, and even to kill him. These wrongs went on year after year until, moved by the sight of one man's cruel sufferings, the people rose against their hard oppressors.

For one day there came into the Forum an old and wretched man, on whose hands and feet were clanking chains, and round whose thin, starved body were only a few miserable rags. His long, white beard hung unkempt about this haggard face, and his eyes were full of suffering and despair. Changed and dreadful as were his looks, there were some in the crowd who thought they knew him, and who, turning to their neighbours, said:—

"Was not this man a brave soldier? Did he not serve Rome with honour? How has he come in such a pass?"

Whereupon the old man, standing before them in all his wretchedness, cried out that he was, in truth, the one of whom they spoke, and that he appealed to them as Romans for help in his sorry plight. He showed them on his breast the scars of nearly twoscore battles, and then, pointing to his back, on which were stripes fresh from cruel blows, he asked, "Are these the just reward for faithful services to Rome?" he told them, moreover, how when the wars were ended, he had found his house in ashes, his cattle stolen, and his lands unjustly taxed; and how he had been thus forced to borrow from a rich Patrician, by whom, when he could not pay, and was too ill to work, he had been thrown into the prison from which he had but just escaped.

This sad tale moved the people with great anger against the Patricians, and in the midst of the uproar that followed, horsemen, riding at full speed into the Forum, announced that the Volscians, enemies of Rome, were fast nearing the city's gates. At the call to arms, however, the Plebeians refused to fight, saying, with scorn, "Let the powerful Patricians save Rome!" Thus threatened from both without and within, the Patricians knew not how to act. But, at last, one of the magistrates came forth from the Curia, and, at the wish of the senators therin assembled, spoke to the excited people, promising safety for the families and the lands of all soldiers defending Rome. Then the Plebeians—even the ill-treated debtors—enrolled their names, and in the battle that followed none were more brave then they.

However, the word of the magistrate was not always kept, nor was the soldier always sure of the safety of those he loved; for some years after this promise had been given a grievous wrong was done a fair maiden, named Virginia, while her father, Virginius, was away from home at the head of his troops. She was falsely claimed as a slave by Appius Claudius, a powerful, but base magistrate, who was pleased with her great beauty and who caused her to be seized one morning as she entered the Forum on her way to school.

When, however, the people knew the wrong planned by the hated Appius, they made so loud an outcry that the maiden was allowed her freedom fro one day more, in order that her father might appear to answer for her. And so, faithful friends of Virginius rode at full speed to the place where the army was encamped, and told him of the danger threatening his fair daughter.

With anxious heart Virginius returned in haste to Rome, only to find Appius all-powerful, and the very laws changed to suit his wicked ends. Then, at the next daybreak, Virginius and his daughter, clad in the garments of mourning, were followed into the Forum by the young girl's nurse and Icilius, to whom she was betrothed, and a train of weeping friends; and there, before the assembled people, Virginius pleaded his cause at the judgment-seat of Appius. But when he found that cruel magistrate unmoved by pity and deaf to justice, he himself decided his child's fate. Leading her to one of the shops, he seized a knife from a butcher's stall, and, plunging it into her heart, cried out, "So only, dear child, can I keep thee free!" Then, holding the knife before him, he passed from the Forum, the throng making way for him in awful silence. And again there was an uprising of the men of Rome against their oppressors, and the people conquered, and gained some power in the making of the laws. From this time the Plebeians were less and as the years went on, some among them became honoured citizens, and even men of wealth.

Then the struggle between Patrician and Plebeian was for power in the government, and to reach his end, each used whatever means he could—means not always honest nor yet successful. Once more the Forum was the scene of contest and this time victory was with the Patricians. It happened in a certain year when there was a great famine in the city, and much suffering among the poor. Spurius Mælius, a rich Plebeian anxious for public honours, seized this moment of need to win the favour of the people by selling them corn at a low price, or by giving it freely to those who could not pay. Through this use of his wealth, he not only hoped to become a magistrate of the Republic, but he also dreamed of greater glory—even the high honours of a king.

So, at least, the Patricians looked upon this matter, and, fearing for the welfare of the State they appointed a dictator—a man whose office gave him an unquestioned right to command, but who only held his position during times of unusual danger to the nation. This honour was now offered to Cincinnatus, a wise and courageous man who had served Rome nobly, and who, although over eighty years of age, was trusted in this troublous hour beyond all other men.

He ordered that he people assemble in the Forum, and that Mælius appear before him for trial. Then, having placed Patrician guards throughout the place, he came with a strong escort to his judgment-seat, and sent a young officer, named Ahala, to seek out the ambitious Plebeian. Mælius had come into the Forum with many of his friends, but now, seeing the fate that awaited him, he shrank back into the throng, and refused to obey the command of the Dictator. Whereupon Ahala, deeming him a traitor to the Republic, rushed through the crowd, and killed him on the spot. So, in this struggle for power, a man's life counted as nothing, and charity but as a covering for ambition.

Then came days when disaster overtook the nation, and when Rome itself was laid in ashes. The Romans had full warning of the coming danger, but filled with the pride of conquest, and sure of the strength of their city, they refused to listen to the message of the gods, because it only came to them through a poor man of the people. As this honest Plebeian was walking in the Forum one night, and was passing through the street close to the Temple of Vesta, there happened a wonderful thing. The hour was still, and as he neared the sacred place, he heard a loud, clear voice, saying to him in tones more than human:—

"Marcus Cædicius! The Gauls are coming! Rome's walls must be strengthened!"

Now Cædicius was a good man, who honoured the gods and loved his country, and so, although the Gauls were a far-off people, not likely to venture against the power of Rome, he at once sought out the Plebeian leaders of the army, and repeated to them the unearthly command. But the proud officers turned him away with scornful laughter, and would not listen to what he said.

However, the time soon came when they bitterly repented their stubbornness and pride, for before long the fierce men of the North were within Rome's very gates. Then the proud Romans, who for three hundred and sixty years had been victorious over all their foes, were defeated, and forced to make terms with their savage enemy. The price of peace demanded by Brennus, the leader of the Gauls, was a thousand pounds' weight of rich gold. This the Romans brought into the Forum, that it might be weighed before their conquerors, but finding the Gauls using false weights, they angrily asked the reason of so great injustice. By way of answer, Brennus threw his heavy sword also into the scales, and said:—

"It meaneth woe to the vanquished!"

But the ancient writers tell us that this bargain was never carried out, for hardly had these insulting words been spoken, then Camillus, at the head of his army, arrived in the Forum, this great general was absent from Rome during the city's disaster, but now, in this hour of peril, he was sent for by the Senate, and was made dictator. At once rallying the Romans, and saying, "Rome pays in steel, not gold!" he threw the weights—even the scales—at the amazed barbarians, and rove them in confusion from the city.