Plutarch · a new plain-English translation from the original language
Being such a man as this, we compare Solon with Poplicola, a name the Roman people later devised for him as an honor; before that he was called Publius Valerius, and was believed to descend from that early Valerius who, more than any other man, turned Romans and Sabines from enemies into one united people: for it was he who chiefly persuaded the kings to meet on common ground and reconciled them.
Valerius, related to him by family, as they say, was already a distinguished man while Rome was still ruled by kings, both for his eloquence and his wealth; the one he always used rightly and with frankness on behalf of justice, and from the other he supplied those in need freely and generously, so that it was clear at once that, should a democracy come about, he would take the leading place.
But when the people, hating and burdened by Tarquinius Superbus—who had neither taken power honorably, but impiously and unlawfully, nor exercised it in kingly fashion, but with insolence and tyranny—took the suffering of Lucretia, who destroyed herself after being violated, as the beginning of their revolt, Lucius Brutus, taking hold of the business of change, went first to Valerius, and, finding him most eager, joined with him in casting out the kings,
so long as the people were expected to elect one man as general in place of the king, Valerius kept quiet, thinking it more fitting for Brutus to rule, since he had become the leader of their liberty; but when the very name of monarchy became distasteful, and it seemed the people would bear the office more easily if it were divided, and they proposed and called for two men, Valerius, hoping to be chosen along with Brutus and to hold the consulship jointly with him, was disappointed.
For chosen as colleague to Brutus, against Brutus's own wish, instead of Valerius, was Tarquinius Collatinus, the husband of Lucretia, a man in no way superior to Valerius in virtue; but the powerful men, still fearing the kings, who were making many attempts from outside and working to soften the city, wanted to have as general the man most intensely hostile to them, as one who would not yield.
Valerius, then, indignant that he was not trusted to be doing everything for the sake of the fatherland, simply because he had suffered no private wrong from the tyrants, withdrew from the senate, gave up his advocacy, and abandoned public business altogether, so that he gave the many cause for talk and worry, fearing that out of anger he might join the kings and overturn affairs and the city, which was in a precarious state:
but when Brutus, harboring suspicion also of certain others, wished to bind the senate by oath over sacrificial victims and announced a day for it, Valerius came down to the forum in high spirits, and was the first to swear that he would yield nothing nor give way to the Tarquins, but would fight with all his strength for liberty, giving pleasure to the senate and courage at the same time to the magistrates. And at once his deeds confirmed the oath.
For envoys came from Tarquinius bearing letters designed to win over the people, and reasonable-sounding words, by which they thought most of all to corrupt the many, claiming that the king had let go of his pride and now wished only for moderate terms. When the consuls thought these envoys should be brought before the multitude, Valerius would not allow it, but opposed and prevented it, so that no occasion or pretext for revolution should arise among poor men who were more burdened by the war than by the tyranny.
After this other envoys came, saying that Tarquinius would give up his claim to kingship and cease making war, but demanding the return of the money and property belonging to himself and his friends and household, from which they might live in their exile. Many were inclined to yield, especially Collatinus, who spoke in favor of it; but Brutus, a man unbending and harsh in temper, rushed out into the forum, calling his colleague a traitor, for granting the resources of war and tyranny to men for whom it would truly be terrible to vote provisions for their flight.
When the citizens had assembled, a private man, Gaius Minucius, spoke first before the people, urging Brutus on and exhorting the Romans to see to it that the money, remaining with them, should fight against the tyrants rather than, going with them, fight against the Romans. And indeed it seemed right to the Romans, who held their liberty, for the sake of which they had been at war, not to let go of peace for the sake of money, but to cast out this too along with the tyrants. Now for Tarquinius the matter of the money mattered least; the demand was at once a test of the people and a device for treachery,
and this the envoys carried out, staying on under the pretext of the money, saying that some of it was to be sold, some kept, some sent off, until they had corrupted two households reckoned among the good and noble—that of the Aquillii, which had three senators, and that of the Vitellii, which had two. All of these were, on their mothers' side, nephews of Collatinus the consul, and the Vitellii besides had another tie of kinship with Brutus. For Brutus had their sister as his wife, and by her several children:
of these, two who were of age and were at once kinsmen and companions, the Vitellii won over and persuaded to join in the treachery, and, by mingling themselves with the great house of the Tarquins and its royal hopes, to be rid of their father's foolishness and harshness—calling his harshness his inflexibility toward wrongdoers, and his foolishness, as it seems, a pretense and a mask he had long employed, for safety's sake, against the tyrants; nor did he later escape that reputation.
So when the young men had been won over and came to speech with the Aquillii, it seemed right to all of them to swear a great and terrible oath, pouring out a libation of a slaughtered man's blood and touching his entrails, and upon this they gathered together in the house of the Aquillii. The house in which they were to do this was, as one would expect, deserted and dark. But a servant named Vindicius, unnoticed by them, had hidden himself inside—not out of any plot
or foreknowledge of what was to come, but happening to be inside, and, seeing them approaching in haste, took fright and hid himself, setting a chest before him, so that he became both a spectator of what was done and a listener to what was planned. It seemed good to them to kill the consuls, and, writing letters declaring this, they gave them to the envoys to carry to Tarquinius; for the envoys were lodging there, having become guest-friends of the Aquillii, and were then present at the conspiracy.
When they had done this and departed, Vindicius slipped out secretly, but he did not know what to do with what had befallen him; he was at a loss, thinking it terrible—as indeed it was—to denounce, to a father, Brutus, the unspeakable crime of his sons, or, to an uncle, Collatinus, that of his nephews, and thinking no private citizen of the Romans
trustworthy enough for secrets of such weight. Yet, unable in any way to keep quiet, driven by his knowledge of the deed, he made his way somehow to Valerius, drawn especially by the man's openness and humanity, since he was accessible to all who were in need, always kept his house open, and never turned away anyone's word or want, however humble.
So when Vindicius came up to him and told him everything—only Marcus his brother and his wife being present—Valerius, struck with fear, no longer let the man go, but shut him up in a chamber and set his own wife to guard the doors; his brother he ordered to surround the royal residence and seize the letters, if possible, and keep watch on the servants, while he himself, accompanied by his usual crowd of clients and friends and a sizable escort, made his way to the dwelling of the Aquillii, finding them absent.
So, no one expecting it, he burst in through the doors and came upon the letters lying where the envoys were lodging. While he was doing this, the Aquillii came running, and, meeting him at the doors, tried to snatch away the letters. His men resisted, and, throwing their cloaks around the necks of the Aquillii, by force and with difficulty, pushing and being pushed, drove them through the narrow streets into the forum. The same thing was happening at the royal residence at the same time, Marcus seizing other letters carried among the baggage, and dragging as many of the king's men as he could into the forum.
When the consuls had quieted the uproar and, at Valerius's command, Vindicius was brought out from the house, and, after the accusation was made, the letters were read, and the men dared say nothing in reply, there was dejection and silence among the rest, while a few, wishing to please Brutus, spoke of exile. Collatinus, too, in tears, gave them some hope of leniency, and Valerius was silent; but Brutus, calling each of his sons by name, said, "Come, Titus," "Come, Tiberius, why do you not answer the charge?"
When, though asked three times, they answered nothing, he turned his face away toward the attendants and said, "The rest is now your work." And they at once seized the young men, tore off their garments, drew their hands behind them, and lashed their bodies with rods,
and while the rest could not bear to look on or endure it, he alone, it is said, neither turned his eyes elsewhere nor softened by any pity the anger and severity set upon his face, but gazed grimly at his sons as they were punished, until, stretching them out on the ground, they cut off their heads with an axe. Having thus dealt with the rest for the sake of his fellow consul, he rose and departed, having done a deed neither worthy to be praised by those willing to praise it nor possible to condemn.
For either the height of virtue raised his soul beyond passion, or the greatness of his passion beyond feeling. Neither is a small thing, nor a human one, but either divine or bestial. It is right that judgment should follow the man's reputation rather than that his virtue be disbelieved through the weakness of the one judging. For the Romans think the founding of the city was not so great a deed of Romulus as was Brutus's creation and establishment of their government.
When he had then departed from the forum, for a long time astonishment and horror and silence held everyone at what had been done; but at Collatinus's softness and hesitation the Aquillii took courage, and asked to be given time to make their defense, and that Vindicius, being a slave, be handed back to them, and not remain with their accusers.
Collatinus was willing to grant this and was dissolving the assembly on these terms, but Valerius was unable either to release the man, mingled as he was with the crowd around him, or to allow the people to let the traitors go free. In the end, laying hands upon the bodies, he called out to Brutus, and cried out that Collatinus was doing a terrible thing, if, having thrust upon his colleague the necessity of killing his own sons, he now thought he should himself grant favor to the women by handing back the traitors and enemies of the fatherland to them.
When the consul grew angry and ordered Vindicius led away, the attendants pushed through the crowd and laid hold of the man, striking those who tried to take him away; but Valerius's friends stood their ground and defended him, and the people cried out, demanding that Brutus be present. So he came back again, and, when silence fell for him, said that as for his own sons he himself had been a sufficient judge, but concerning the others he gave the vote to the citizens, who were free: let whoever wished speak and persuade the people. No further words were needed, however; once the vote was given, they were all condemned and beheaded.
Collatinus, it seems, was already under some suspicion because of his kinship with the kings, and men were also displeased with him over his second name, since they wished to purge away all trace of Tarquinius. When this affair too fell out as it did, altogether resentful, he willingly gave up the office and quietly withdrew from the city. So, when a new election was held, Valerius was brilliantly declared consul, receiving a reward worthy of his zeal—
in return for which, thinking Vindicius too ought to enjoy some benefit, he moved that he be the first freedman to become a citizen at Rome, and to cast his vote assigned to whatever tribe he wished. To the rest of the freedmen it was only later, after a long time, that Appius gave the right to vote for popular favor; but the full act of manumission is called, to this day, "vindicta," they say, because of that Vindicius.
After this they gave over the money of the kings to the Romans to plunder, and razed the house and the estate; and of the finest part of the Campus Martius, which had belonged to Tarquinius, this too they consecrated to the god. It happened to have been just harvested, and, the sheaves still lying there, they thought it not right to thresh them or make use of them because of the consecration, but, running together, carried the bundles down to the river.
In the same way they cut down the trees too and threw them in, leaving the place entirely idle and unfruitful, as an offering to the god. As many things were pushed against one another, all in a mass, the current carried them not far, but where the first things swept together caught against something solid and stuck fast, since what followed had no way through, but became entangled and interwoven, the mass gained strength and took root, growing
by the action of the current; for it brought down much silt, which, settling, provided both nourishment and adhesion, and the waves caused no disturbance, but pressing gently drove everything together into one and molded it. Through its size and stability it gained further size still, taking in the ground most of what the river carried down. This is now a sacred island by the city; it has temples of the gods and walking paths, and is called in the Latin tongue "Between the Two Bridges."
Some, however, record that this happened not when Tarquinius's field was consecrated, but at a later time, when another plot adjoining it was given up by Tarquinia. Tarquinia was a virgin priestess, one of the Vestals, and received in return great honors, among which was that she alone of women should have her testimony accepted, and, though granted leave to marry, she did not accept it. Such is the legendary account of how this came about.
The Tyrrhenians eagerly received Tarquinius, who had given up hope of recovering his throne through treachery, and were bringing him back with a great force. The consuls led the Romans out against them, and formed their battle lines in consecrated ground, one spot named the Arsian Grove, the other known as the Aesuvian Meadow. As they began to close for battle, Arruns, son of Tarquinius, and Brutus, the Roman consul, fell upon each other—not by chance, but out of hatred and rage—
the one as against a tyrant and enemy of the fatherland, the other defending against his exile, and they charged together on their horses. Engaging with more passion than reckoning, they had no regard for themselves and died together, killing one another. So terrible was this opening clash that the battle did not come to any gentler end, but the armies, having done and suffered alike, were separated by a storm.
Valerius was therefore at a loss, not knowing the outcome of the battle, but seeing his soldiers disheartened at the sight of their own dead, yet elated at the sight of the enemy's—so indiscriminate and matched, because of the numbers, had the slaughter been; and yet in each case the losses seen close at hand rather confirmed defeat than did the enemy's losses, guessed at, suggest victory,
and when night came on, such as one would expect after fighting like this, and the camps had settled into quiet, they say the grove was shaken, and from it a great voice rang out, declaring that one more of the Tyrrhenians had died in the battle than of the Romans. And this voice was in truth something divine: for at once it gave the one side courage to raise a great and confident shout, while the Tyrrhenians, seized with fear and thrown into confusion, broke out of their camp and scattered
Most of them were scattered in flight; but those who were left behind, a little fewer than five thousand, the Romans attacked and captured, and plundered the rest. When the dead were counted, the enemy's were found to be thirteen hundred, while the Romans' losses were nearly as many minus one. They say this battle took place the day before the Kalends of March, and Valerius celebrated a triumph for it, riding in on a four-horse chariot, the first of the consuls to do so.
The spectacle presented a solemn and magnificent sight, not one that gave offense or pained those who watched, as some say; for otherwise it would not have inspired such emulation and such ambition, persisting for so many years as it did. They also welcomed the honors Valerius paid to his fellow consul, with which he adorned his colleague's funeral procession and burial.
And he delivered over him a funeral oration, which was so beloved by the Romans and won such favor that from that time it became customary for all good and great men to be eulogized at their deaths by the finest of their fellow citizens. It is said that this funeral oration was even older than the Greek funeral orations, unless this practice too belongs to Solon, as Anaximenes the rhetorician has recorded.
But it was rather for other reasons that they were vexed with Valerius and took offense at him: because Brutus, whom the people regarded as the father of their liberty, had not thought it right to rule alone, but had chosen first one colleague to share his rule and then a second — "whereas this man," they said, "having gathered everything unto himself, is no heir of Brutus's consulship, which belongs to no one, but rather of Tarquin's tyranny."
"And yet what need is there to praise Brutus in word while imitating Tarquin in deed, descending alone, under all the rods and axes together, from a house so great in size that not even the king's house, which Brutus tore down, was so great?" And indeed Valerius really did dwell in a rather theatrical manner, in a house above the district called Velia, overhanging the Forum and looking down on everything from its height, while being difficult and forbidding to approach from below — so that as he came down, the very shape of his descent seemed lofty and kingly, and the pomp of his escort had a regal weight to it.
How great a good it is, then, in office and in great affairs, to have ears open to frank speech rather than flattery, and to true words, he demonstrated. For when he heard that he seemed to most people to be doing wrong, as his friends reported to him, he did not contend against it nor grow angry, but quickly gathered together many workmen, while it was still night, and tore down the house and razed it entirely to the ground,
so that when day came the Romans, seeing this and gathering together, admired and marveled at the man's greatness of spirit, but were grieved over the house and longed for its size and beauty, as though it were a person unjustly destroyed through envy, and grieved for their magistrate, as though he were now without a hearth, living in another's house. For his friends took Valerius in until the people gave him a plot of ground and built for him a house more modest than the other, where now stands the temple called Vica Pota.
Wishing not only himself but also his office to be, instead of fearsome, gentle and endearing to the many, he released the axes from the rods, and when he came before the assembly he lowered the very rods themselves before the people and inclined them down, making much of this outward show of democracy — and this the magistrates preserve even to this day.
It escaped the notice of the many that he was not, as they supposed, making himself humble, but rather was cutting down and curtailing envy by this moderation, while adding to himself as much greatness of power as he seemed to be taking away from his authority — the people submitting to him with pleasure and bearing it willingly, so that they even named him Publicola; and the name signifies "one who cares for the people": and this prevailed more than his ancestral name, which we too shall use for the rest of our account of the man's life.
He allowed the consulship to be sought and canvassed for by those who wished it; but before his colleague's installation, not knowing who would be chosen, and fearing opposition arising from some envy or ignorance, he used his sole rule for the finest and greatest of political measures. For first he filled up the senate, which had grown thin in numbers, since some had died earlier under Tarquin, and others recently in the battle.
Those enrolled by him are said to have numbered one hundred and sixty-four. After this he wrote laws, of which the most powerful he made those chief ones giving the people the right to appeal from the consuls to the people on behalf of one on trial; the second, condemning to death those who assumed office which the people had not granted;
a third after these, which came to the aid of the poor, by relieving the citizens of their taxes and making everyone more eager to take up their trades. And the law written against those who disobeyed the consuls seemed no less favorable to the people, and to have been written more for the many than for the powerful; for he set the penalty for disobedience at five oxen and two sheep.
For the value of a sheep was then ten obols, of an ox a hundred, since the Romans at that time did not yet make much use of coined money, but flourished through flocks and cattle-raising. That is why even now they call their properties "peculia," from the word for sheep ("pecus"), and on their oldest coins they stamped an ox or a sheep or a pig. And they gave their children names like Suillus and Bubulcus and Caprarius and Porcius: calling goats "caprae" and pigs "porci."
Though in these matters he showed himself so favorable to the people and moderate as a lawgiver, in the matter of punishment he went beyond moderation. For he wrote a law that anyone might, without trial, kill the man who sought to seize tyranny, and made the killer clean of murder, if he could produce proof of the wrongdoing. For since it was not possible for a man attempting so great a thing to escape everyone's notice, but it was possible, once noticed, to seize a position of power before he could be brought to trial — a trial which the wrongdoing itself does away with — he gave the one with the power to act first against the wrongdoer.
He was also praised for his law concerning the treasury. Because the war made it needful that citizens draw on their own estates and contribute funds, and since he wished neither to lay hands on the administration of it himself, nor to allow his friends to do so, nor in general for public money to pass into a private man's house, he designated the temple of Saturn as the treasury, which they continue to use to this day, and gave the people the right to appoint two of the young men as quaestors,
and the two men first chosen for this office were Publius Veturius and Marcus Minucius, whereupon a great sum of money was collected — for one hundred thirty thousand registered their property — the contribution being remitted for orphaned children and widowed women.
Having managed these matters, he appointed as his own colleague Lucretius, the father of Lucretia, to whom, as he was the elder, he yielded the more commanding rank and handed over the fasces called "first" — and this precedence has remained from that time to us, preserved for the elder colleagues. But since Lucretius died a few days later, when the elections were held again Marcus Horatius was chosen, and he shared office with Publicola for the remainder of the year.
When Tarquin was stirring up a second war against the Romans in Etruria, a great sign is said to have occurred: for while Tarquin was still king and possessed the temple of Capitoline Jupiter, not yet quite completed, whether because of some prophecy or because it simply seemed good to him, he commissioned certain Etruscan craftsmen from Veii to set upon its peak a terracotta chariot; and shortly after he was driven from power,
and when the Etruscans had thrown the modeled four-horse chariot into the kiln, it did not undergo what clay is meant to undergo in fire — to become dense and to shrink as its moisture is dried out — but instead it expanded and swelled and grew to such size and strength and hardness together that it was scarcely possible to remove it, once the roof of the kiln had been dismantled and the walls taken down.
Since it seemed to the seers to be a divine sign of good fortune and power for those with whom the chariot would remain, the people of Veii resolved not to give it up to the Romans when they demanded it, and answered that it belonged to the Tarquins, not to those who had cast the Tarquins out. A few days later they held horse races, and in other respects the spectacle proceeded with its accustomed show and eagerness, but the winning chariot's driver was riding out of the hippodrome at a walk, crowned with the victor's wreath,
when the horses, startled for no visible reason, but by some divine agency or chance, sped off at full speed toward the city of the Romans, carrying their driver with them — for there was nothing he could do by pulling on the reins or trying to calm them, but he was simply swept along, given over to their rush and carried along — until, reaching the Capitol, they threw him out there, by the gate now called the Ratumena. When this happened, the people of Veii, marveling and afraid, allowed the chariot to be given back to the craftsmen.
Tarquin, son of Demaratus, had vowed to dedicate the temple of Capitoline Jupiter while at war with the Sabines, but it was Tarquin Superbus, either son or grandson of the man who made the vow, who built it: he did not manage to consecrate it, but it fell only a little short of completion when Tarquin was driven out. So when it had been entirely finished and had the ornamentation befitting it, Publicola had a keen ambition to perform its consecration.
Many of the powerful men were envious, and were less troubled by his other honors, which he had gained appropriately as a lawgiver and general; but this honor, being foreign to him, they thought should not fall to him as well, and they kept urging and provoking Horatius to lay claim to the consecration. So when a military campaign became necessary for Publicola, they, having voted that Horatius should perform the consecration, led him up to the Capitol, thinking that they would not be able to prevail while Publicola was present.
Some, however, say that it fell to him by lot among the consuls to go on the campaign, unwillingly, and to the other to perform the consecration. It is possible to conjecture about these matters from what happened at the consecration itself. On the Ides of September, which falls around the full moon of the month Metageitnion, when all had assembled at the Capitol,
Horatius, when silence had fallen, having performed the other rites and having laid hold of the doors, as is customary, was pronouncing the words prescribed for the consecration; but the brother of Publicola, Marcus, who had for a long time been standing by the doors watching for his moment, said, "Consul, your son has died in the camp, having fallen ill."
This grieved all who heard it; but Horatius, not in the least disturbed, said only this much: "Throw the corpse then wherever you wish, for I do not accept the mourning," and went on to complete the rest of the consecration. Now the report was not true, but Marcus had lied in order to make Horatius withdraw. The man was admirable, then, for his steadiness of mind, whether he saw through the deception in that brief moment, or whether, believing the report to be true, it did not move him.
It seems that a similar fortune attended the consecration of the second temple as well. For the first, as has been said, Tarquin had built and Horatius had consecrated, and fire destroyed it in the civil wars; the second Sulla erected, but at its consecration the dedication was inscribed to Catulus, since Sulla had died before it.
This one in turn was destroyed in the disturbances under Vitellius, and Vespasian, having enjoyed good fortune in this as in all else, raised the third from beginning to end, and lived to see it completed but did not live to see it destroyed shortly after — so much did he surpass Sulla in good fortune, in that the one died before the dedication of the work, while the other died before its destruction. For at the very moment Vespasian died, the Capitol was burned down.
This fourth temple was both completed and consecrated under Domitian. It is said that Tarquin spent forty thousand pounds of silver on the foundations alone; but the greatest private fortune in Rome in our own day, if reckoned out, would not cover the expense of the gilding of this one, which came to more than twelve thousand talents.
The columns were cut from Pentelic stone, having the most beautiful proportion of thickness to length; for we saw them at Athens. But in Rome, having been cut down again and re-polished, they gained not so much in refinement as they lost in proportion and beauty, appearing hollow and slack.
Yet whoever marveled at the extravagance of the Capitol, if he had seen just one colonnade or basilica or bathhouse or dwelling for the concubines in Domitian's house, would have been moved to say to Domitian something like what Epicharmus said to the wastrel: "You are not a kind man, you have a disease, you delight in giving" — rather, "you are neither pious nor honor-loving; you have a disease, you delight in building," like that Midas of old, wishing everything around him to become gold and stone. So much, then, for these matters,
Tarquin, after the great battle in which he also lost his son, who had fought a duel with Brutus, fled for refuge to Clusium and supplicated Lars Porsenna, a man who possessed the greatest power among the kings of Italy and had a reputation for being good and honor-loving; and he promised to help him. And first he sent to Rome bidding them receive Tarquin back; but when the Romans did not obey, he declared war on them, announcing the time and also the place into which he intended to invade, and arrived with a great force.
Publicola was chosen consul for the second time while absent, and with him Titus Lucretius; and returning to Rome, wishing first to outdo Porsenna in spirit, he founded a city, Sigliuria, though Porsenna was already nearby, and having fortified it at great expense he sent seven hundred settlers there, as one bearing the war lightly and without fear.
Nevertheless, when a sharp assault was made on the wall, the guards were driven out by Porsenna, and in their flight very nearly dragged the enemy along with them into the city. But Publicola rushed out to help before the gates, and joining battle by the river held out against the enemy pressing on him in great numbers, until, struck by severe wounds, he was carried off, borne on a litter, from the battle,
and when the same thing happened to his colleague Lucretius, despair fell upon the Romans, and they saved themselves by flight toward the city; and as the enemy pressed on through the wooden bridge, Rome was in danger of being taken by storm. But first Horatius Cocles, and with him two of the most distinguished men, Herminius and Larcius, stood their ground at the wooden bridge.
Horatius got the surname Cocles in war, from having one of his eyes struck out; or, as some say, because his nose was so flattened and sunk in that there was no division between his eyes and his brows ran together, so that people, wishing to call him Cyclops, had the word slip on their tongues and, through common usage, he came to be called Cocles instead.
This man stood before the bridge and held off the enemy until the men with him had cut down the bridge behind him. Then, throwing himself into the river with his armor on, he swam across, though he reached the far bank having been struck in the buttock by a Tyrrhenian spear.
Poplicola, admiring his courage, immediately proposed that all the Romans should contribute and give him as much food as each of them consumed in a day, and further, as much land as he himself could plow around in a day; and besides this they set up a bronze statue of him in the temple of Hephaestus, consoling with honor the lameness that had come upon the man from his wound.
While Porsina was pressing the city and famine was gripping the Romans, another Tyrrhenian army invaded the countryside on its own account. Poplicola, holding his third consulship, thought it necessary to remain quiet toward Porsina and guard the city, but he went out against the Tyrrhenians, and joining battle, routed them and killed five thousand of them. The story about Mucius has been told by many and in different ways, but it must be told as it is most credibly believed, and by us as well.
He was a man good in every virtue, and best in matters of war. Plotting to kill Porsina, he made his way into the camp wearing Tyrrhenian dress and using a similar accent. Going around the platform where the king was sitting, and not knowing him for certain, but afraid to ask about him, he drew his sword and killed the man he most supposed, among those sitting together, to be the king.
For this he was seized and interrogated; and when a small brazier with fire in it, brought for Porsina who was about to sacrifice, was set before him, he held his right hand over it, and while his flesh was burning stood looking at Porsina with a bold and unflinching face, until the king, astonished, released him and, giving back his sword, held it out from the platform; and Mucius took it with his left hand extended. And on account of this they say he got the surname Scaevola, which means "left-handed."
He said that, having conquered his fear of Porsina, he was conquered by his virtue, and that out of gratitude he was revealing what he would not have confessed under compulsion. "For three hundred Romans," he said, "holding the same resolve as I, are wandering about in your camp watching for their opportunity. I drew the lot and made the first attempt, and I am not troubled by my fortune, having failed to kill a good man, one more fitting to be a friend of the Romans than an enemy."
When Porsina heard this he believed it, and was the more inclined toward a settlement — not so much, it seems to me, out of fear of the three hundred, as out of admiration and wonder at the spirit and virtue of the Romans. This man, whom nearly everyone calls Mucius and Scaevola together, Athenodorus the son of Sandon says, in his work addressed to Octavia the sister of Caesar, was also named Opsigonus.
Poplicola himself, however, thinking Porsina, as an enemy, not so burdensome as he was worth much as a friend and ally of the city, did not shrink from having the matter judged before him against Tarquin, but was confident and repeatedly challenged him to it, confident he could show Tarquin to be the most wicked of men, rightly stripped of his throne. But when Tarquin answered rather harshly that he would accept no one as judge, least of all Porsina, if Porsina, being an ally, changed sides,
Porsina, displeased and condemning him for this, and at the same time his son Arruns begging and pressing on behalf of the Romans, brought the war to an end, on condition that they give up the Tyrrhenian land they had taken and send back the prisoners, receiving in return the deserters; and in addition to this the Romans gave as hostages ten young men of noble birth wearing the purple border, and as many maidens, among whom was Valeria, the daughter of Poplicola.
While this was being arranged, and Porsina had by now laid down all preparation for war on the strength of this pledge of trust, the maidens of the Romans went down to bathe, at a place where a crescent-shaped bank curving around the river made the current especially calm and still. Since they saw no guard, nor anyone passing by except by boat, they were seized with a desire to swim across against the strong current and deep eddies.
Some say that one of them, named Cloelia, rode the crossing on horseback, urging on and encouraging the others who were swimming. When they returned safely to Poplicola, he was not amazed nor pleased, but distressed, because Porsina would appear the lesser in good faith, and the maidens' bold act would be charged as a wrongdoing on the part of the Romans. So he took them and sent them back again to Porsina.
But Tarquin's people, learning of this beforehand, set an ambush for those escorting the girls, and, being more numerous, attacked them at the crossing. Though those escorting the girls fought back, Poplicola's daughter Valeria dashed through the midst of the fighters and escaped, and three servants who broke out with her kept her safe; but as the others were caught up dangerously among the combatants, Arruns, Porsina's son, perceiving this, quickly came to their aid, and when the enemy was put to flight, saved the Romans.
When Porsina saw the maidens brought back, he sought out the one who had begun the deed and had urged on the others. Hearing the name Cloelia, he looked upon her with a kindly and cheerful face, and ordering one of the royal horses to be brought, finely adorned, gave it to her as a gift. This is used as testimony by those who say that Cloelia alone rode the river on horseback.
Others deny this, saying rather that the Tyrrhenian honored her manly courage in general. There stands, for those traveling the Sacred Way toward the Palatine, an equestrian statue of her, which some say is not of Cloelia but of Valeria. Porsina, once reconciled with the Romans, showed the city much further magnanimity besides, and, ordering the Tyrrhenians to take back their arms and nothing else,
he had them abandon the camp, full of much grain and money of every kind, and handed it over to the Romans. For this reason, even down to our own day, when public property is sold, the auctioneers cry first "the goods of Porsina," preserving in memory an everlasting honor for the man's kindness. There also stood a bronze statue of him beside the senate house, simple and archaic in workmanship.
After this, when the Sabines invaded the countryside, Marcus Valerius, brother of Poplicola, was appointed consul, along with Postumius Tubertus. While the greatest matters were being carried out under the judgment and presence of Poplicola, Marcus won two great battles, in the second of which, without losing a single Roman, he killed thirteen thousand of the enemy.
And as a prize for his triumphs he received a house built for him at public expense on the Palatine. And whereas all other houses at that time had their doors opening inward into an entryway, for this house alone they arranged that the outer door should open outward, so that, as it were, by the concession of this honor it might always encroach further upon the public space.
They say that all Greek houses formerly were built this way too, taking this from the comedies, in which those about to go out knock and make noise on their own doors from inside, so that those passing by outside, or standing before the door, might be aware, and not be caught by the doors as they opened outward into the narrow street.
In the following year Poplicola again held the consulship, his fourth. There was expectation of war, with the Sabines and Latins uniting; and at the same time a certain superstitious fear took hold of the city, for all the women then pregnant were miscarrying deformed children, and in the end no birth came to term. Whereupon Poplicola, propitiating Hades according to the Sibylline books, and instituting certain games ordered by the Pythian oracle, and rendering the city's hopes toward the divine more cheerful, now turned his attention to the fears arising from men. For the preparation and combination of the enemy appeared great.
Now there was among the Sabines Appius Clausus, a man powerful in wealth and conspicuous for bodily strength and vigor, but foremost above all in reputation for virtue and skill in speech. And what happens to all great men he did not escape suffering: he was envied. And he gave those who envied him a pretext, by putting a stop to the war and increasing the power of Rome, on the charge of aiming at tyranny and the enslavement of his country,
and perceiving that these words were spoken to please the multitude, and that he had come into conflict with the war-makers and the military men, he feared a formal trial, and, having a faction and the strength of friends and kinsmen defending him, kept up a factional struggle around himself. And this became a delay and hesitation of the war for the Sabines.
Poplicola, then, not only made it his business to know of these things, but also to stir and drive on the faction further; he had suitable men who spoke to Clausus on his behalf in such terms as these: that Poplicola believed a man as upright and just as he ought not to defend himself against his fellow citizens by any harmful means, even though wronged; but if he should wish to save himself by changing sides and fleeing those who hated him, he would receive him publicly and privately in a manner worthy both of his own virtue and of the splendor of Rome.
As Clausus turned these words over repeatedly, they appeared to him the best course among necessities, and calling together his friends, and many of them likewise persuading others in turn, he led five thousand households, with children and wives — which was the most peaceable and orderly part of the Sabine population, fitting for a life of quiet and settled order — into Rome, with Poplicola knowing beforehand and receiving them kindly and eagerly on all just terms.
For he at once mixed the households into the citizen body, and assigned to each a portion of two plethra of land around the river Anio, but to Clausus he gave twenty-five plethra of land, and enrolled him himself in the Senate, a beginning of political life which, used wisely, he rose from to the first rank and great power, and left behind the family of the Claudii, from himself descended, second to none in Rome.
But once the Sabine situation had been settled in this way through the resettlement of the men, the popular leaders would not allow it to rest and settle quietly, complaining bitterly that Clausus, having become an exile and an enemy, would accomplish what he had failed to persuade them of while present among them — that the Romans should not pay the penalty for their insolence. So, raising a large army, they camped near Fidenae, and placing an ambush of two thousand heavy infantry before Rome, in wooded and hollow ground, they intended at daybreak to drive off plunder openly with a few horsemen.
They had instructed these men that, when they drew near the city, they should retreat until they drew the enemy into the ambush. Poplicola, learning of this the very same day from deserters, quickly arranged everything and divided his forces. For Postumius Balbus, his son-in-law, with three thousand heavy infantry, went out already in the evening and, occupying the hilltops under which the Sabines lay in ambush,
kept watch there; and his fellow consul Lucretius, taking the lightest and most valiant troops in the city, was assigned to attack the horsemen driving off the plunder, while he himself, taking the rest of the army, went around the enemy in a circle. And as it happened, a deep mist fell, and about dawn, Postumius, shouting, fell upon those lying in ambush and struck them from the heights, while Lucretius let his men loose upon those who had ridden out ahead, and Poplicola fell upon the enemy's camps.
So the Sabines were everywhere thrown into ruin and destroyed; and those there who were not even defending themselves but fleeing, the Romans killed at once, since their hope had turned most disastrously against them. For each side, supposing the others were safe, did not attend to fighting and standing firm, but some fled from their strongholds toward those lying in ambush,
while others in turn, running toward the camp as if toward those men, fell in among the very fugitives fleeing from that side, running into the men from whom they were fleeing and who themselves needed the help they had hoped would come to them. That not all the Sabines perished, but some survived, was owing to the city of Fidenae being nearby, especially for those who broke through from the camps as it was being captured. But as many as failed to reach Fidenae were destroyed, or led off alive by their captors.
This success the Romans, though accustomed to attribute the divine hand to all great things, considered to be the work of one man, the general, alone. And it was said, first among those who had fought, that Poplicola had handed the enemy over to their swords lame and blind and all but bound. The people, too, were strengthened in wealth from the spoils and the captives.
Poplicola, having celebrated his triumph and handed over the city to the consuls appointed after him, died soon after, having brought his own life to completion as nearly as is possible for men reputed to be noble and good in the accepted sense. The people, as though they had done nothing worthy for him while he lived, but owed him every gratitude, voted that his body be buried at public expense, and that each person contribute a quarter as a mark of honor.
The women, coming together privately among themselves, mourned him for a full year in honored and emulated grief. And he was buried, by vote of the citizens, within the city, beside the place called the Velia, so that his whole family might share in that burial place. Now, however, none of his descendants is actually buried there; but they bring the body there and set it down, and someone takes a lit torch and holds it beneath only as long as it takes to be lifted away again, bearing witness in this act that it is permitted, while foregoing the honor, and so they carry the body off elsewhere.