Plutarch · a new plain-English translation from the original language
The house of the Marcii in Rome, one of the patrician families, produced many distinguished men, among them Ancus Marcius, the grandson of Numa on his daughter's side, who became king after Tullus Hostilius. Marcii too were Publius and Quintus, who brought into Rome the most abundant and finest supply of water, and Censorinus, whom the Roman people twice appointed censor, and who then, persuaded by that very office, established a law and had it voted that no one should be permitted to hold the office twice.
Gaius Marcius, the subject of this Life, was raised by a widowed mother, having lost his father, and he showed that being orphaned, though it has other disadvantages, is no obstacle to becoming a serious man and one distinguished above the many, while it does give inferior men occasion to blame and find fault, alleging that neglect ruined him. The same man also bore witness to those who hold that nature, when noble and good but lacking education, tends to produce, along with good qualities, many bad ones together, just as a fertile field, in farming, that has not received cultivation.
For the strength and firmness of his judgment toward everything brought forth great impulses and ones that carried noble deeds through to completion; but again, because he indulged unmixed passions and inflexible rivalries, he was not easy or agreeable for people to associate with. Rather, while people admired and named his imperviousness to pleasures, toils, and money as self-control, justice, and courage, in his political dealings, on the other hand, they found him oppressive, graceless, and oligarchic.
For there is nothing else that men enjoy from the goodwill of the Muses so much as the taming of their nature through reason and education, when through reason it accepts due measure and casts off excess. Now in those times, on the whole, Rome most prized that part of virtue concerned with deeds of war and soldiering, and it is evidence of this that they called virtue by the single name of manliness (andreia), and that this name for the quality is the common word by which they specifically designate courage.
Marcius, having become more passionately devoted than others to contests of war, kept weapons in hand from the time he was a boy, and thinking it no achievement for those who did not have their native and innate weapon fully equipped and prepared to rely on acquired ones, he so trained his body for every form of combat that he was both light in running and had weight in grappling holds, and was hard to force back in the wrestling-bouts of war. Those, at any rate, who were always in rivalry with him over courage and virtue, in whatever respects they fell short, would blame the strength of his body, as being unyielding and refusing to give in to any exertion.
He went on his first campaign while still a youth, at the time when Tarquin, who had reigned over Rome and then been driven out, after many battles and defeats, was casting what was like his last die: most of the Latins, and many of the other Italians besides, joined in taking him up and leading him back against Rome, not so much out of favor to him as out of fear and envy at the growing power of the Romans, which they sought to bring down.
In this battle, which underwent many reversals on both sides, Marcius, fighting vigorously in view of the dictator, saw a Roman fall nearby and did not neglect him, but stood before him and, defending him, killed the enemy who was bearing down on him. So when the general prevailed, he was among the first to be crowned by him with a crown of oak.
For this crown the law has granted to the man who has shielded a fellow citizen, whether it is that they especially honored the oak on account of the Arcadians, who were called acorn-eaters by an oracle of the god, or because there was a supply of oak quick and available everywhere for men on campaign, or because, believing the oaken crown to be sacred to Zeus Polieus, they thought it fitting that it be given for the preservation of a citizen. The oak, among wild trees, bears the finest fruit, and among cultivated ones is the strongest.
Its acorn served as food, and mead as drink, and it furnished as relish most of the creatures that graze and fly, since it bears mistletoe, an instrument of the hunt. In that battle, moreover, they say the Dioscuri appeared, and that right after the battle they were seen in the forum, their horses streaming with sweat, announcing the victory, at the place where now a temple has been established for them beside the spring; and from this they have consecrated the day of the victory, the Ides of the month of July, to the Dioscuri.
It seems that renown and honor, coming too early upon young men, extinguish their more lightly ambitious natures, and quickly satisfy their thirst and appetite, which is easily sated; but honors increase and brighten weighty and steadfast characters, rousing them as if by a wind toward what appears noble, since men of this kind do not receive honor as a wage but give it as a pledge, and are ashamed to leave their reputation behind and not surpass it by the same deeds.
Having felt this, Marcius too set before himself a rivalry with his own manly excellence, and always wishing to be new in his actions, he added feat of arms to feat of arms and brought spoils upon spoils, and always had his later commanders vying with the earlier ones over honoring him, and striving to surpass their testimonials. Indeed, though many contests and wars fell to the Romans in that time, from none of them did he come away uncrowned or without a prize.
For other men glory was the end of their virtue, but for him the end of glory was his mother's joy; for to hear her praised, to see her look on him crowned and embrace him weeping for pleasure, he considered made him the most honored and most blessed of men. This same feeling, indeed, they say Epaminondas also confessed, counting it his greatest good fortune that his father and mother were still alive to witness his generalship and victory at Leuctra.
But he enjoyed both his parents rejoicing and sharing his good fortune together, whereas Marcius, thinking that he owed his mother even the gratitude due to his father, was never satisfied in cheering and honoring Volumnia; instead, though she wished and asked him to marry, he did marry, and he continued living in the same house, even after children were born, together with his mother.
Now when his reputation and power in the city, derived from his virtue, had already grown great, the senate, in defending the wealthy against the common people, fell into strife, the people believing they were suffering many terrible things at the hands of the moneylenders. From those who possessed modest property, the lenders took away everything they had by seizures and sales, and those who were altogether without means they led off and imprisoned in person, though their bodies bore many scars from wounds and toils endured in campaigns for their country,
the last of which they had undergone against the Sabines, when the wealthiest men had promised to be more moderate and the senate had voted that Marcus Valerius, the consul, should stand surety for it. But when, even after they had fought that battle eagerly and had overcome the enemy, nothing fair came from the moneylenders,
and the senate did not even pretend to remember what had been agreed, but looked on while they were again led off and seized for debt, there arose tumults and gatherings of an ugly kind in the city; and it did not escape the enemy's notice that the people were in a state of turmoil, but they invaded and set the countryside ablaze, and when the magistrates called those of military age to arms, no one obeyed, so divided again were the opinions of those in authority,
and some thought it necessary to yield to the poor and to relax somewhat the excessive rigor of the law, while others resisted, among whom was Marcius, who did not consider the matter of the money the greatest issue, but urged that they should, if they were prudent, check and quench this as the beginning and trial-run of insolence and boldness on the part of a mob rising up against the laws.
When the senate had met about these matters many times within a short span and brought forth no resolution, the poor suddenly banded together, and, urging one another on, left the city, and, seizing a hill which is now called the Sacred Mount, encamped beside the river Anio, doing nothing violent or seditious, but crying out that they had long since been driven out of the city by the rich, and that air and water and a place for burial Italy would furnish them anywhere,
and that by living in Rome they possessed nothing more than this, except being wounded and dying on campaign for the sake of the rich. This frightened the senate, and it sent out those of the elders who were most reasonable and most favorable to the people, and Menenius Agrippa spoke on their behalf; making many appeals to the people, and speaking with much frankness on behalf of the senate, he came at the end of his speech round to the form of a fable that has been remembered ever since.
For he said that all the members of a man's body once rose up in rebellion against the belly, and accused it of being the only part that sat idle in the body, contributing nothing, while the others endured great toils and services for the sake of its appetites; but the belly laughed at their simplicity, since they did not know that it takes in all the nourishment into itself, but sends it back out again and distributes it to the others.
"So too," he said, "such is the relation of the senate to you, fellow citizens. For the plans and business that are handled there with the proper care and management bring and distribute to you all what is useful and beneficial."
From this they were reconciled, having asked of the senate, and obtained, the right to choose five men as protectors of those needing help, those now called tribunes; and they chose as the first, whom they had also used as leaders of their secession, Junius Brutus and Sicinius Bellutus. When the city had come together into one, the mass of the people were at once under arms, and offered themselves eagerly to the magistrates for use in the war.
Marcius himself was not pleased at what the people had gained now that the aristocracy had yielded, and, seeing that many of the other patricians had felt the same, still urged that they not fall short of the commons in the struggles for their country, but rather show themselves superior to them in virtue rather than in power.
Among the nation of the Volscians, against whom they were making war, the city of Corioli held the greatest standing. So when the consul Cominius had encamped around this city, the rest of the Volscians, in fear, came to help against the Romans from every side, intending to give battle at the city and to attack the Romans from two directions.
When Cominius, dividing his forces, himself went to meet the Volscians advancing from outside, and left Titus Larcius, a man among the best of the Romans, in charge of the siege, the men of Corioli, holding those remaining in contempt, sallied out, and in the first fighting prevailed and drove the Romans back to their stockade,
where Marcius, rushing out with a few men and cutting down those who had come to close quarters with him most of all, and halting the others as they pressed forward, called back the Romans with a great shout; for he was, as Cato thought a soldier ought to be, formidable and hard to withstand when encountered by an enemy, not by hand and blow alone, but also by the pitch of his voice and the look on his face. As many gathered and rallied around him, the enemy withdrew in fear.
But he was not content with this, and pursued and drove on those now fleeing headlong, all the way to the gates. There, seeing the Romans turning back from the pursuit, since many missiles were being hurled from the wall, and no one dared to entertain the thought of rushing in along with the fleeing men into a city full of armed men of war, he nevertheless stood his ground, calling on them and encouraging them, shouting that the city had been opened by fortune more for the pursuers than for the fleeing.
As not many were willing to follow him, he forced his way through the enemy and leapt to the gates and rushed in along with them, no one at first daring to resist or stand against him; but then, when they saw that those inside were altogether few, they rallied and fought back against them,
Mixed in among friends and enemies alike, he fought, they say, an incredible fight — with deeds of hand, swiftness of foot, and daring of spirit — inside the city, and overpowering everyone he rushed at, he drove some back to the farthest quarters, while others threw down their arms and gave up, granting Larcius ample freedom to bring the Romans in from outside.
With the city thus taken and most of the men occupied in plunder and the seizing of goods, Marcius was furious and shouted his outrage, thinking it monstrous that while the consul and the citizens with him were perhaps at that very moment engaged and fighting the enemy, these men should be going about making money, or using the pretext of profit to run from the danger. Since not many paid him any heed, he took those who were willing and set out along the road by which he had learned the army had advanced, again and again urging on the men with him and exhorting them not to give up, and again and again praying to the gods not to be left out of the battle, but to arrive in time to fight and share the danger alongside his fellow citizens.
It was then the custom among the Romans, when forming up in ranks and about to take up their shields and gird on their military cloaks, at the same time to make unwritten wills, naming their heir before three or four witnesses.
It was in the midst of doing this that the soldiers were caught by Marcius, already within sight of the enemy — and at first, appearing among them with only a few companions and covered in blood and sweat, he threw some into confusion; but when he ran up to the consul, overjoyed, and clasped his right hand, and reported the capture of the city, Cominius embraced him and kissed him, and courage came over those who learned what had been accomplished as well as those who merely guessed it, and with a shout they called on him to lead them into the engagement.
Marcius asked Cominius how the enemy's forces were arranged, and where their strongest fighters were posted. When Cominius said he believed the companies in the center were those of the Antiates, most warlike and second to none in spirit, Marcius said, "Then I ask this of you, and I beg it: post us against these men." The consul granted it, marveling at his eagerness.
When the spear-clashes began and Marcius charged out ahead, the Volscians facing him could not hold their ground, but the part of the line he struck was at once cut through; but as men from either side wheeled around and closed in on him with their weapons, the consul, fearing for him, sent out his best men.
A fierce fight took place around Marcius, and many fell dead in a small space, but pressing hard and bearing down on the enemy they drove them off, and turning to pursue them, they urged Marcius, heavy now with exhaustion and wounds, to withdraw to the camp. But he said that for men who were winning there was no such thing as exhaustion, and kept after the fleeing enemy. The rest of their army was likewise defeated, with many killed and many taken captive.
The next day, when Larcius arrived and the others gathered before the consul, Cominius mounted the platform, and having rendered to the gods the praise fitting for such great successes, turned to Marcius, and first spoke a wondrous eulogy of him, being himself a witness of what had happened in the battle, with Larcius bearing witness to the rest.
Then, since much money and many horses and captives had been taken, he ordered Marcius to choose ten of everything before it was distributed to the rest, and besides these gifts he presented him with a finely adorned horse as a prize of valor. When the Romans applauded, Marcius came forward and said he accepted the horse and was glad of the general's praise, but the rest he considered wages, not honor, and would let it go, and would be content, like every other man, with his share of the division.
"But one special favor I ask," he said, "and beg to receive. I had a guest-friend among the Volscians, a decent and moderate man; he has now been taken captive and has become, from rich and fortunate, a slave. Of the many misfortunes now upon him, it is enough to remove one — his being sold." At these words an even greater shout answered Marcius, and more men were struck with admiration at his not being mastered by money than at his valor in war.
Indeed, even those in whom some envy and jealousy lay hidden at his being honored so conspicuously, even they now thought him worthy of great rewards precisely because he refused to take them, and admired his virtue more — the virtue by which he scorned such great things — than the deeds for which he was thought worthy of them. For to use money well is a finer thing than to use weapons well, but not to need money at all is more honorable still than using it well.
When the crowd's shouting and uproar had died down, Cominius took up the word: "But those gifts, fellow soldiers," he said, "you cannot force on a man who will not accept them and does not wish to take them; but as for the one that it is not in his power to refuse when it is given, let us grant it to him and vote that he be called Coriolanus — unless indeed the deed itself, before us, has already given him that name." From this he received his third name, Coriolanus.
And it is especially clear from this that of the names, Gaius was his own personal name, the second, Marcius, belonged in common to his house or family, while the third was one men later took on, as an added title, from some deed or fortune or bodily appearance or virtue — just as the Greeks gave, from a deed, the name Soter and Callinicus, from appearance Physcon and Grypus, from virtue Euergetes and Philadelphus, and from good fortune Eudaimon to the second of the Battuses.
For some kings, too, such surnames became a source of mockery, as Dosōn for Antigonus and Lathyros for Ptolemy. The Romans too have made even greater use of this kind of naming, calling one of the Metelli Diadematus, because for a long time, having a sore, he went about with his forehead bound up, and another Celer, because he hastened, within a few days of his father's death, to put on funeral games of gladiators, and men marveled at the speed and sharpness of his preparation.
Some they call, even to this day, from the circumstance of their birth — Proculus, if a child is born while the father is abroad, and Postumus, if born after the father's death; and if of twins one happens to survive after the other has died, they call him Vopiscus. And as for bodily traits, they give names not only like Sulla, Niger, and Rufus, but also Caecus and Clodius, wisely accustoming themselves to consider neither blindness nor any other bodily misfortune a reproach or an insult, but to answer to such names as their own. But these matters belong to another kind of writing.
When the war had ended, the popular leaders once again stirred up faction, having no new grievance nor any just complaint, but taking as pretext the evils that had necessarily followed from their earlier quarrels and disturbances, and turning these against the patricians — for most of the countryside had been left unsown and untended, and the war had allowed no time to arrange for imported grain.
A severe shortage having thus arisen, the popular leaders, seeing that the people had neither a market nor, even if there were a market, the money to use it, spread words and slanders against the rich, saying that they were bringing on the famine out of spite. From the Velitrae there came an embassy offering to hand over their city and asking that colonists be sent, for a plague had fallen on them and wrought such destruction and ruin among the people that scarcely a tenth of the whole population was left.
It seemed to sensible men that the need of the Velitrani had come at just the right moment and in due season, both because those in need required relief from the shortage, and because they hoped it would at the same time disperse the faction, if the most turbulent element, most stirred up along with the popular leaders, were purged out of the city like some diseased and troublesome residue.
So the consuls enrolled these men and sent them off to the colony, and proclaimed an expedition against the Volscians for others, contriving occupation to keep them from civil disturbances, and thinking that once rich and poor, commoners and patricians alike, were again brought together under arms, in camp, and in common struggles, they would be disposed toward one another more gently and agreeably.
But Sicinius and Brutus and the popular leaders still opposed this, crying out that it was a most brutal act they were doing under the gentlest of names — calling it a colony while they thrust poor men as into a pit, sending them off to a city full of pestilential air and unburied corpses, to settle among an alien and vengeful spirit;
then, as though not content with destroying some citizens by famine and exposing others to plague, they were now also bringing on a war of their own choosing, so that no evil should be lacking to the city — a city which had refused to go on being enslaved to the rich. Filled with such talk, the people neither came forward for the consuls' enrollment nor would accept the colony.
While the senate was at a loss, Marcius, already full of pride and grown great in spirit and admired by the most powerful men, showed himself the foremost opponent of the popular leaders, and they sent off the colony, compelling by heavy penalties those chosen by lot to go out; but when the men altogether refused the campaign, Marcius himself gathered his personal retainers along with whatever others he could win over, then swept through the land of the Antiates, and finding much grain,
and coming upon much plunder of cattle and slaves besides, kept none of it for himself, but brought back to Rome the men who had served with him, driving much before them and carrying much on their backs, so that the others, regretting their choice and envying those who had profited, grew resentful of Marcius and burdened by his growing reputation and power, as something increasing at the people's expense.
A short time later Marcius stood for the consulship, and the majority softened, and a certain shame took hold of the people at the thought of dishonoring and rejecting a man first in both birth and virtue, after such great and numerous benefactions. For it was the custom for candidates for office to appeal to and greet the citizens wearing only a toga, without a tunic, as they came down into the forum — whether to humble themselves the more by this dress in their entreaty, or to display, to those who had them, the visible marks of their courage in their scars,
for it was certainly not out of suspicion of the distribution of money and bribery that they wished to approach the citizens ungirded and without a tunic to make their request of them; for it was only much later that buying and selling crept in, and money became mixed up with votes in the assemblies,
and from there, having touched even the courts and the armies, bribery brought the city round into monarchy, enslaving weapons to money. For he does not seem to have spoken badly who said that the first man to dissolve the people's power was the first man to feast and bribe them. It appears, though, that this evil crept in secretly and little by little, and did not at once become plainly visible in Rome,
for we do not know who was the first to bribe the people or a court in Rome; but at Athens it is said that Anytus, son of Anthemion, was the first to give money to jurors, when he was on trial for the betrayal of Pylos, already near the end of the Peloponnesian War — at a time when the golden and unspoiled age still held sway over the Roman forum.
But since Marcius displayed many scars from many contests, in which he had held first place through seventeen continuous years of campaigning, the people were overawed by his valor, and told one another they would elect him. Yet once the appointed day for casting the vote had arrived, and Marcius entered the forum in stately fashion, escorted by the senate, and all the patricians gathered around him, showing an eagerness for nothing else as they had never shown for anything before,
the majority of the people fell out of goodwill toward him once more, carried off into resentment and envy. And to this feeling was added fear as well, since a man so proud in his aristocratic bearing, wielding such influence among the patricians, might, upon gaining mastery of the office, strip the people entirely of their freedom.
Reasoning in this way, they voted Marcius down, and when others were proclaimed instead, the senate took it hard, thinking itself insulted more than Marcius; but the man himself bore what had happened with neither moderation nor equanimity, since he had made the greatest use of the spirited and contentious part of the soul, believing it to hold greatness and high spirit, but had not tempered it, through reason and education, with the gravity and gentleness that has the largest share in political virtue,
nor did he know that self-will, which as Plato said dwells together with solitude, is above all what a man attempting public affairs and dealing with other men must avoid, and that he must become a lover of that forbearance which is so much laughed at by some. But being always a plain and unbending sort of man, and holding that to conquer and master everyone in every way is the work of courage, not of weakness and softness — for anger, like a swelling, rises up out of the most afflicted and suffering part of the soul — he went away full of turmoil and bitterness against the people.
Now the young men of the patrician class, whatever in the city was most conspicuous and flourishing in noble birth, had always been remarkably devoted to the man, and now, attaching themselves to him and standing by him, fanned his anger to no good end, by joining in his indignation and his suffering. For he had been to them, in their campaigns, a kindly leader and teacher in matters of war, and had roused in those who did well a rivalry in virtue free of envy toward one another.
Meanwhile grain came to Rome, much of it bought from Italy, and no less given as a gift from Syracuse, sent by the tyrant Gelon; so that most people came to have good hopes, expecting that the city would be delivered at once from both its want and its discord. So as soon as the senate had assembled, the people poured around it from outside and waited eagerly for the outcome, hoping to enjoy a market at humane prices and to have the gifts distributed free of charge. And indeed there were men inside urging the senate to just this.
Marcius, however, stood up and attacked with great vehemence those who curried favor with the masses, calling them demagogues and betrayers of the aristocracy, men who were nourishing against themselves the wicked seeds of insolence and arrogance that had been let loose among the mob — seeds which it would have been well not to overlook as they sprang up at the start, and not to make the people so strong in so great a beginning, but which were now become fearsome, since the people wished to have everything they wanted and to be compelled in nothing against their will, and would not obey the consuls, but, having leaders of their own lawlessness, called them their magistrates.
As for subsidies and distributions, then, such as the Greek states that are most thoroughly democratic vote for themselves, he said that to sit and vote such things was simply to supply their own disobedience with fuel for the common ruin. "For surely they will not say they are receiving this as a favor, in return for the campaigns they deserted, the secessions by which they abandoned their fatherland, and the slanders they welcomed against the senate; rather, if you yield through fear and flatter them, expecting that by giving and conceding these things you will please them, they will set no limit to their disobedience, nor will they ever cease quarreling and rebelling.
So this policy is altogether madness; but if we are wise, we will take away their tribunate, which is the abolition of the consulship and the division of the city — no longer one, as before, but one that has received a cut which will never let us grow together again or think as one, or ever cease being sick and disturbed by one another."
By saying many such things Marcius had the young men extraordinarily fired up together with him, and nearly all the rich men too, shouting that he alone was a man who held the city unconquered and unflattering; but some of the older men opposed him, suspecting what the outcome would be. And the outcome was nothing good. For the tribunes, who were present, when they perceived that Marcius was carrying the day with his proposal, ran out among the crowd, shouting and urging the multitude to band together and come to their aid,
and when a tumultuous assembly had gathered, and the words Marcius had spoken were reported abroad, the people, carried along by anger, came within a little of rushing upon the senate itself. And the tribunes laid the blame on Marcius, and sent for him, summoning him to answer for himself. But when he drove off the officers sent to him with insult, they themselves came with the aediles, meaning to bring the man by force, and laid hold of his person. The patricians, banding together, drove off the tribunes, and dealt blows even to the aediles.
For that time, then, evening came on and broke up the disturbance; but at daybreak, when the consuls saw the people savage and running together from every quarter into the forum, they feared for the city, and, gathering the senate, urged it to consider how, by reasonable words and by kindly decrees, it might soothe and settle the multitude, since — if they were wise — this was no season for love of honor, nor a contest for glory, but a perilous and urgent moment, in need of a considerate and humane policy.
So when most of the senators yielded, they came forward and spoke to the people as gently as they could and tried to calm them, disposing of the slanders against them with fairness and using only a moderate measure of admonition and rebuke, and declaring that on the matter of the price of provisions and the market they would not differ from the people at all.
So as the greater part of the people yielded, and it was plain that they were being drawn along and charmed by listening in an orderly and moderate temper, the tribunes stood up, saying that they would concede to the senate, since it was being reasonable, whatever was fitting for the people to yield; but they demanded that Marcius defend himself, if he denied that he had provoked the senate with a view to confounding the constitution and destroying the power of the people, and had disobeyed when summoned by them,
and finally, by striking the aediles in the forum and abusing them, had, so far as lay in him, brought about civil war and driven the citizens to arms. They said this wishing either to show Marcius humbled, forcing him against his nature to lower his pride and court the favor of the people, or, if he acted according to his nature, to make his anger toward himself incurable — which is rather what they hoped for, judging the man correctly.
For he stood up as if to defend himself, and the people granted him silence and quiet; but when he began to address the men, who were expecting some sort of appeal, not only did he use a harsh frankness of speech, going beyond mere frankness into outright accusation, but also, by the pitch of his voice and the set of his face, displayed a fearlessness bordering on contempt and disdain,
so the people grew exasperated and were plainly indignant and offended at what was said, and the boldest of the tribunes, Sicinius, after conferring briefly with his colleagues, then proclaimed openly that the tribunes had condemned Marcius to death, and ordered the aediles to lead him up to the summit and hurl him at once down the cliff that lay below it.
But when the aediles laid hands on his person, it seemed to many even of the common people that what was happening was dreadful and arrogant; while the patricians, utterly beside themselves and overcome with grief, rushed with a shout to help, some of them thrusting away with their hands those who were laying hold of him and mingling themselves with Marcius,
and some, stretching out their hands, begged the multitude — since there was no use at all for speech or voice amid so much disorder and uproar — until the friends and kinsmen of the tribunes, coming together in agreement, reasoned that it was not possible to drag out Marcius or punish him without great slaughter of the patricians, and persuaded them to remove the strangeness and severity of the punishment, not putting him to death by force and without trial, but restoring the matter to a vote given by the people.
After this Sicinius, growing calm, asked the patricians what they meant by taking Marcius away from the people, who wished to punish him. And when they in turn asked, "What then do you intend, and what do you want, leading in this way, without trial, a man among the foremost of the Romans to so savage and unlawful a punishment?" "Well, then, this much—"
said Sicinius, "do not make this an occasion for quarrel and faction against the people; for what you ask, we grant you — the man shall be tried. But you, Marcius, we summon in advance to appear on the third market-day and to persuade the citizens, if you have done no wrong, since they will judge by vote."
At that time, then, the patricians were glad of this resolution, and took Marcius away with them gladly. In the meantime before the third market day (the Romans hold their markets every ninth day, calling them nundinae), there arose for them a hope of avoiding the matter, when a campaign against the Antiates came about, which seemed likely to have length and duration enough for the people to grow tame in the interval, their anger either withering away or falling entirely away through preoccupation and war. But then,
when they quickly came to terms with the Antiates and returned, the patricians held frequent meetings, fearful and considering how they might neither give Marcius up nor again allow the people to be stirred up by the demagogues. Appius Claudius, who had a reputation for being especially hostile to the people, protested, saying that they would be destroying the senate itself and abandoning the constitution entirely if they let the people gain control of a vote against the patricians;
but the oldest men, those most favorable to the people, held the opposite view, that the people would be made, not harsh or severe, but mild and humane by this power; for their contempt was not aimed at the senate; rather, believing themselves the ones treated with contempt, they would find the trial itself an honor and a solace, so that once the vote had been granted them they would quickly set their anger aside.
Marcius, then, seeing the senate at a loss, out of goodwill toward himself on one hand and fear of the people on the other, asked the tribunes what they accused him of and on what charge they were bringing him before the people to be tried. And when they said that the charge was tyranny, and that they would prove he intended to become a tyrant, he rose up at once and said that he was going before the people this very moment to defend himself, and that he would in no way decline the trial, nor, if convicted, the punishment: "only see to it," he said, "that this is the charge you bring, and that you do not lie to the senate." And when they agreed, the trial proceeded on these terms.
When the people had assembled, in the first place the tribunes forced the voting to be conducted not by centuries but by tribes, so making the poor, the meddlesome crowd, and those who cared nothing for what was honorable outnumber the wealthy, the well-known, and those who had served in the army.
Then, dropping the charge of tyranny as incapable of proof, they reverted again to those words which Marcius had earlier spoken in the senate, when he opposed cheapening the market and urged that the tribunate be taken from the people. And they brought against him, as a new charge, the distribution of the spoils which he had taken from the territory of the Antiates and had not turned over to the public treasury, but had divided among those who had campaigned with him;
and it is said that Marcius was most thrown into confusion by this very charge. For he had not expected it, nor did he find persuasive words ready to hand for the crowd on the spot, but while he was praising those who had served in the campaign, the greater number, who had not served, raised an uproar against him. In the end, when the vote was given by tribes, three of them condemned him. And the penalty of the sentence was perpetual exile.
After the proclamation, the people, though they had never so exulted even at defeating an enemy in battle, went away as proud and rejoicing as they were then; but grief and terrible dejection seized the senate, which repented and was distressed at not having done and suffered everything rather than allow the people, once they had used so great a power against him, to insult him thus. And there was no need then of dress or other marks to tell them apart — a man was at once plainly a commoner if he rejoiced, and a patrician if he was distressed.
But Marcius himself, undismayed and unhumbled, composed alike in bearing, gait, and countenance, alone among all those who had suffered showed no fellow-feeling with himself — not through reason and gentleness, nor by bearing what had happened with moderation, but because he was in the grip of anger and heavy resentment, which most people fail to recognize as a form of grief.
For whenever grief turns into anger, it casts off, as if kindled to flame, its lowly and sluggish quality; and so the angry man seems to be a man of action, just as one in a fever seems hot, since the soul has, so to speak, taken on a pulse, a tension, and a swelling. And Marcius showed this disposition at once, very plainly, by his deeds.
For upon entering his house, and greeting his mother and his wife, who were lamenting with weeping and cries, and bidding them bear what had happened with moderation, he at once turned and set out walking toward the gates. There, though all the patricians together were escorting him on his way, he took nothing and asked nothing of anyone, and departed with three or four clients about him.
After spending a few days by himself in certain fields, torn by many reflections of the kind that anger suggests — reflections tending toward nothing honorable or advantageous except to attack the Romans — he resolved to stir up some heavy and neighboring war against them. He set out, then, to make trial first of the Volscians, knowing that they were still at their peak in men and resources, and believing that from their recent defeats they had lost not so much of their strength as they had gained in rivalry and anger.
There was a certain man of the city of Antium who, through wealth, courage, and distinction of family, held a station like that of a king among all the Volscians, named Tullus Aufidius. Marcius knew that he was hated by this man as by no other Roman; for often, in threats and challenges made during battles, and in boasts prompted by their rivalry — such as the ambitions and jealousies of young men eager for war bring on — they had acquired, in addition to the public enmity, a private hatred toward one another.
Nevertheless, seeing that Tullus possessed a certain greatness of spirit, and that he above all the Volscians desired to find an occasion to humble the Romans in turn, he bore witness to the truth of the saying: "To fight against anger is hard, for whatever it wishes it buys at the cost of the soul." For taking on clothing and equipment in which he was least likely to be recognized for who he was, like Odysseus, he made his way down into a city of hostile men.
It was evening, and many people encountered him, but no one recognized him. He walked, then, to the house of Tullus, and slipping in unnoticed, sat down in silence by the hearth, and, covering his head, kept still. Those in the house, astonished, did not dare to make him rise — for there was a certain dignity about him, both in his bearing and in his silence — but they told Tullus, who was at dinner, of the strangeness of the matter.
He rose and came to him, and asked who he was that had come, and what he wanted. Then Marcius, uncovering his head and raising himself a little, said: "If you do not yet know me, Tullus, but disbelieve your own eyes, I must become my own accuser. I am Gaius Marcius, the man who has done the most harm to you and to the Volscians, and I carry about with me the surname that will not let me deny it — Coriolanus.
For nothing else did I gain as the reward of those many toils and dangers except this stigma of a name recalling my enmity toward you, and this alone remains to me, beyond taking away; of everything else I have been stripped by the envy and insolence of the people, and by the cowardice and betrayal of the men in office and my own equals, and I have been driven into exile, and have come as a suppliant to your hearth — not for safety and preservation, for why should I have come here fearing to die? — but wanting to obtain justice, and already obtaining it from those who cast me out, by making you master of myself.
If, then, you have the spirit to take up arms against your enemies, come, noble sir, make use of my misfortunes, and turn my calamity into a common piece of good fortune for the Volscians, since I shall fight for you so much better than I fought against you, by as much as those who know the enemy's affairs fight better than those who do not. But if you have given up, then I do not wish to live, nor is it well for you to preserve a man who was formerly your enemy and foe, and is now useless and of no service."
When Tullus heard this, he was wonderfully pleased, and clasping his right hand said, "Rise up, Marcius, and take heart. For you come bringing us a great blessing in giving us yourself, and you may hope for still greater things from the Volscians." And then he entertained Marcius at a feast with every mark of friendship, and in the days that followed they took counsel together about the war, by themselves.
As for Rome, the enmity of the patricians toward the people — who were held not least responsible for the condemnation of Marcius — kept the city in turmoil, and seers, priests, and private persons reported many portents worthy of concern. One such is said to have occurred. There was a certain Titus Latinius, a man not especially distinguished, but unambitious, otherwise moderate, and free from superstition, and still more from pretension.
This man saw in a dream that Zeus came into his sight and bade him tell the senate that they had sent him, before the procession, a wretched and most displeasing dancer. Having seen the vision, he said he did not think much of it at first; but when he saw it a second time and neglected it a third, he lost a good son to death and was suddenly rendered helpless in his own body.
Carried to the senate on a litter, he reported these things. And having made his report, he at once, as they say, felt his body growing strong again, and rising, walked away under his own power. The senators, amazed, made a thorough inquiry into the matter. It was this: a certain man had handed over one of his slaves to other slaves, and ordered them to lead him through the marketplace whipping him, and then to kill him.
While they were doing this and abusing the man, who twisted in every sort of contortion under the pain, and made other unpleasant movements from his suffering, the procession happened to be following along. Many of those present were displeased, seeing neither a cheerful sight nor fitting movements, but no one intervened; only abuse and curses were directed at the man who was punishing so harshly. For at that time people treated their household slaves with great fairness, since through working alongside them and sharing their manner of life they had a gentler and more familiar bearing toward them.
It was in fact a great punishment for a slave who had committed some fault, if he had to take up the piece of wood on which they support the pole of a cart, and carry it around through the neighborhood.
For a man who had suffered this, and been seen doing so by his fellow slaves and neighbors, no longer had any credit. He was called furcifer, for what the Greeks call a prop or support, the Romans call a furca.
When Latinius, then, reported the vision to them, and they were at a loss as to who the displeasing and wretched dancer leading the procession that day had been, some recalled, on account of the strangeness of the punishment, that slave whom they led whipping through the marketplace and then put to death. The priests being agreed, the master was made to pay the penalty, and they performed the procession and the games all over again for the god from the beginning.
Numa, it seems, was in all else the wisest expounder of sacred matters, and in this too he made an excellent law for their scrupulous observance. For whenever magistrates or priests are performing some sacred rite, the herald goes before, crying in a loud voice, "Hoc age" ("Attend to this"). The phrase means "do this," bidding them give their attention to the sacred rites and interpose no other business or occupation of any kind in the midst, since most human affairs are carried through under some kind of necessity and by force.
It is customary for the Romans to take up again sacrifices, processions, and games not only for so weighty a cause as this, but even for small ones — for instance, if one of the horses drawing the so-called chariots called "thensae" grew weak, or if the charioteer again took the reins in his left hand, they voted to perform the procession over again. And in later times they performed a single sacrifice thirty times over, since it always seemed that some omission or offense had occurred. Such was the scrupulous care of the Romans toward the divine.
Marcius and Tullus, meanwhile, were conferring secretly at Antium with the most powerful men, and urging that, while the Romans were at odds among themselves, they should bring on the war. And when some hesitated, because there was a two-year treaty and truce that had been made between them, the Romans themselves furnished the pretext, when, out of some suspicion or slander, they proclaimed at a spectacle and games that the Volscians should leave the city before sunset,
though some say this came about through a deception and stratagem of Marcius, who sent to Rome to the magistrates a false accuser of the Volscians, alleging that they intended, during the games, to attack the Romans and set the city on fire. This proclamation made all of them more hostile toward the Romans; and Tullus, magnifying the matter still further and inflaming them, at last persuaded them to send to Rome demanding back the territory and the cities which had been taken from the Volscians in war.
The Romans, hearing the envoys out, were indignant, and answered that the Volscians would be the first to take up arms, and the Romans the last to lay them down. Upon this, Tullus, having gathered a general assembly, once they had voted for war, advised that Marcius be summoned, bearing him no grudge, but trusting that as an ally he would help them as much as, in warring against them, he had failed to harm them.
When Marcius, having been summoned, addressed the assembled multitude and showed himself no less formidable and skilled in war through his words than through his arms, and outstanding in both judgment and daring, he was appointed, together with Tullus, general with full powers for the war.
Fearing the time it would take to prepare the Volscians, lest, if it grew long, it should rob the enterprise of its opportunity, he left it to the men of power and the magistrates throughout the cities to gather and provide the rest, while he himself, persuading the most eager to go out with him of their own will, without any levy, invaded the territory of the Romans suddenly and when no one expected it.
From this he gained so great an abundance of plunder that the Volscians, in driving it off, carrying it, and using it in the camp, grew weary of it; yet the abundance, and the great damage and harm done to the countryside, were the least part of what he accomplished on that campaign. The great purpose for which he did these things was to bring further discredit on the patricians in the eyes of the people. For while ravaging and destroying everything else, he guarded their estates strictly, and would not allow them to be harmed or anything taken from them,
whence they fell still further into mutual recrimination and disturbance: the patricians blaming the common people for having unjustly banished so powerful a man, and the people accusing the patricians of bringing Marcius upon them out of malice, and then sitting as mere spectators while others bore the brunt of the war, keeping the war itself outside as a guardian of their wealth and possessions. Having accomplished these things, and having done much to give the Volscians confidence and contempt for their enemies, Marcius led his forces back in safety.
When the whole force of the Volscians had been gathered swiftly and eagerly, and appeared to be great, they resolved to leave part of it behind for the safety of the cities, and to campaign against the Romans with the rest; and Marcius left it to Tullus to choose which of the two commands he wished. Tullus, saying that he saw Marcius as in no way inferior to himself in valor, but as having enjoyed better fortune in all their battles, bade him lead the force that was going out, while he himself would remain to guard the cities and supply what was needed to those on campaign,
Marcius, thus emboldened, marched first against Circaeum, a Roman colony, and since it surrendered willingly he did it no harm. After that he ravaged the territory of the Latins, expecting that the Romans would come out and fight him there on behalf of their Latin allies, who kept appealing to them,
but when the common people proved unwilling and the consuls had only a little time left in office, in which they did not wish to run any risk, and for these reasons they sent the Latins away, Marcius then led his forces against the cities themselves, and taking by storm Tolerium, Lavici, and Pedum, and also Bola, which resisted him, he made booty of the persons and plundered the property. But for those who came over to him he took great care that they should suffer no harm even against his will, encamping as far off as possible from them and keeping away from their land.
When he had also taken the city of Bola, no more than a hundred stadia from Rome, and gotten possession of much money, and destroyed nearly all who were of military age, and when not even those of the Volscians who had been assigned to remain in their cities held firm, but rushed with their weapons to join Marcius, saying that they recognized him alone as their general and sole ruler—his name had grown great throughout all Italy and his fame astonishing, since the transfer of one man's excellence had wrought so extraordinary a reversal in affairs—
the affairs of the Romans, meanwhile, were in complete disorder, since they had given up all thought of fighting and spent their days in cliques and factious talk against one another, until word came that Lavinium was being walled around by the enemy—the place where the ancestral shrines of the Romans' gods were kept, and where the origins of their race lay, since it was the first city that Aeneas had founded.
As a result of this the people underwent an astonishing and sudden change of heart, but the patricians a wholly strange and unaccountable one: for the people were eager to annul the sentence against Marcius and to summon him back to the city, while the senate, convening and deliberating over the proposal, rejected it and blocked it—whether out of sheer contentiousness, opposing everything the people were eager for,
or because it did not wish the man to return as a favor to the people, or because it had by now conceived anger even against Marcius himself, on the grounds that he was doing harm to all when he had not been wronged by all, and had shown himself an enemy to his fatherland, in which he knew that the most sovereign and strongest element sympathized with him and was suffering the same injustice along with him. And when the senate's decision was brought before the people, the people had no legal power to act by vote and by law without a preliminary decree of the senate.
Marcius, hearing of this, grew even more embittered, and abandoning the siege he was conducting he marched against the city itself in a rage, and encamped by the so-called Cloelian trenches, forty stadia distant from the city. Though his appearance struck terror and caused great tumult, still for the present he put an end to the internal strife: for no one any longer dared, whether magistrate or senator, to speak against bringing Marcius back,
but seeing in the city the running to and fro of the women, the supplications and tears at the shrines, and the entreaties of the old men, and everything utterly lacking in courage and in any plan of salvation, they rightly concluded that the populace had rightly inclined toward making peace with Marcius, while it was the senate that bore all the blame for persisting in wrath and grudge-holding past the point where yielding would have served better. So it was resolved by all to send envoys to Marcius, offering him a return to his fatherland and begging him to put an end to the war against them,
and those sent from the senate were men on friendly terms with Marcius, and expected to receive much warmth, at least at their first meeting, from a man who was their kinsman and familiar; but nothing of the kind occurred—instead, having been led through the enemy's camp, they came upon him seated with an arrogance and a harshness that were unbearable.
Keeping the chief men of the Volscians about him, he bade the envoys say what they had come to ask. And when they had spoken words that were reasonable and humane, in the manner befitting the occasion, and had finished, he answered—bitterly on his own behalf and in anger over what he had suffered, but on behalf of the Volscians as their general—demanding that the cities and the land which had been cut off from them in the war be restored, and that a vote be passed granting the Volscians equality of citizenship such as the Latins had:
for there could be no other secure end to the war than one on equal and just terms, and he gave them thirty days to deliberate; and when the envoys had departed he immediately broke camp and withdrew from the country.
This, then, was the first charge that those among the Volscians who had long been resentful of his power and envious of him now seized upon; among these was Tullus too, though privately he had suffered no wrong from Marcius, but was moved by a very human passion. For he was distressed at finding his own reputation utterly dimmed and himself overlooked by the Volscians, who now considered Marcius alone to be everything to them, and thought that the rest ought to be content with whatever share of power and authority he chose to give them,
from which the first accusations were secretly sown abroad, and men gathering together were indignant, and called the withdrawal a betrayal—not of walls nor of arms, but of opportunities, by which all other things too are naturally either preserved or again lost, since thirty days had been given over to the war, in which time nothing greater in scale can be accomplished than the changes that can occur.
And yet Marcius did not spend this time idly, but went about destroying and cutting off the allies of the enemy, and took seven great and populous cities. The Romans meanwhile did not dare go to their aid, but their spirits were filled with hesitation, and they were disposed toward the war just as bodies utterly numbed and paralyzed are disposed toward action.
But when the time had passed and Marcius was again present with his whole force, they sent out an embassy once more, to beg Marcius to relax his anger and, withdrawing the Volscians from the country, to do and say whatever he thought best for both sides: for the Romans would yield nothing out of fear, but if he thought the Volscians ought to obtain some measure of kindness, they would grant them everything once they had laid down their arms.
To this Marcius replied that he had nothing to answer as general of the Volscians, but that as still a citizen of Rome he advised and urged them, thinking more moderately, to come to him within three days with just terms, having voted what he proposed; but if they should decide otherwise, they should know that they would have no safe passage again if they came to his camp with empty words.
When the envoys had returned and the senate had heard them, as in a great storm and tossing of the city, it caught at every last resort. For as many as were priests of the gods, or celebrants or guardians of the mysteries, or possessed the ancestral art of augury handed down from of old, all these they voted should go to Marcius, adorned as the custom was for each in his sacred rites, to say the same things and to entreat him that, having ended the war, he would then discuss the matter of the Volscians with his fellow citizens.
He received the men into his camp, but gave nothing else, nor did or said anything gentler, but insisted that the terms on which he had before bidden them make peace, or else accept war, still stood. So when the priests returned it was resolved to keep quiet within the city, guarding the walls, and to beat back the enemy if they made an assault,
trusting for the most part to time and to the unforeseen turns of fortune, since through their own efforts they knew of nothing that could bring safety, but confusion and terror and evil rumor held the city, until something happened resembling what is often said by Homer, though it does not much persuade most people.
For he, when speaking and exclaiming over great and extraordinary deeds, says: 'but the goddess, gray-eyed Athena, put it into his mind,' and 'but one of the immortals turned his mind, who put the rumor into the heart of the people,' and 'either divining something, or a god so commanded'—these things are held in contempt as impossible occurrences and incredible fictions by those who make each man's own reasoning, in matters of choice, incapable of belief.
Homer, however, does not do this, but assigns to what is within our own power all that is plausible and customary and worked out by reasoning, and indeed he often says: 'but I took counsel in my great heart,' and, 'so he spoke, and grief came upon the son of Peleus, and within his shaggy breast his heart was divided in debate,' and again, 'but him he could not persuade, though he thought good things, wise-minded Bellerophon:'
but in strange and hazardous actions, and those requiring some inspired impulse and exaltation, he does not represent the god as taking away the man's own agency, but as moving his choice, not producing the impulses themselves, but images that lead to impulses; by which he does not make the action involuntary, but gives the beginning to what is voluntary, and adds confidence and hope.
For either the divine must be altogether removed from any causation or origin of what concerns us, or else what other way could there be by which the gods help and cooperate with men? Surely not by shaping our bodies, nor by moving our hands and feet themselves as they must go, but by rousing, through certain origins and images and thoughts, the practical and deliberative part of the soul—or, on the contrary, by turning it away and bringing it to a halt.
In Rome at that time, of the women, some were praying at one shrine and others at another, but the majority, and the most eminent, were making supplication at the altar of Capitoline Jupiter. Among these was Valeria, sister of that Publicola who had done the Romans great and many services both in war and in politics. Publicola had died earlier, as we have recorded in the account written about him, but Valeria had reputation and honor in the city, seeming by her life not to disgrace her lineage,
So then, as I say, seized suddenly by this feeling, and having laid hold, by no thought without some divine prompting, of what was useful, she herself rose up and, raising up all the other women with her, came to the house of Marcius's mother Volumnia. And upon entering she found Volumnia seated together with Vergilia, Marcius's children resting on her lap, whereupon Valeria gathered the women in a circle about her and spoke:
"We ourselves," she said, "O Volumnia, and you, Vergilia, have come as women to women, neither by vote of the senate nor by order of any magistrate, but our god, it seems, taking pity on our supplication, has put into us the impulse to turn hither to you and beg for safety both for ourselves and for our fellow citizens, and for you, if you are persuaded, to win a more illustrious fame than that which the daughters of the Sabines won, when they brought fathers and husbands together out of war into friendship and peace.
Come with us to Marcius, join with us in this supplication, and bear witness for your fatherland—a true and just witness—that though she has suffered much harm, she has done nothing dreadful nor plotted anything against you out of anger, but restores you to him even though she is likely to obtain none of the fair treatment she deserves."
When Valeria had said this, the rest of the women cried out in assent, and Volumnia answered: "We too, women, share equally in the common misfortunes, and we suffer privately as well, having lost the good name and worth of Marcius, and seeing his body guarded by the enemy's weapons rather than kept safe. But the greatest of our misfortunes is this, if the affairs of the fatherland have grown so weak that they must rest their hopes on us,
"I do not know, you see, whether that man will give any thought to us, seeing that he gives none even to his fatherland, which he has valued above mother, wife, and children. Nevertheless, take us and carry us to him — women who, if nothing else, are able to breathe our last in supplication on behalf of our country."
After this, raising up the children and Virgilia along with the other women, she made her way to the camp of the Volscians. The sight of them produced in the enemy both pity and a reverent silence. Marcius happened to be sitting on the tribunal with his officers,
so when he saw the women approaching, he was astonished; and recognizing his mother walking first, he wished to hold to those unbending and unyielding resolves of his — but overcome by feeling and thrown into confusion at the sight, he could not bear to remain seated and receive her, but came down faster than a walk and, meeting her, first embraced his mother, and for a very long time, then his wife and children, no longer sparing his tears nor his tenderness, but giving himself over to be carried away as by a flood of feeling.
When he had had his fill of this, and perceived that his mother now wished to begin speaking, he brought the leading men of the Volscians to stand by him and listened as Volumnia spoke as follows: "You see, my son — even if we ourselves say nothing — you can judge from the dress and condition of our wretched bodies what sort of household life your exile has procured for us.
Consider now that we have come, of all women, the most unfortunate, since fortune has made the sweetest sight the most terrible to us — for me, to see a son, for her, a husband, arrayed against the walls of their own fatherland. And that which for others is a comfort in every misfortune and hardship — to pray to the gods — has for us become the most helpless of resorts. For it is not possible to ask the gods at once for victory for our country and safety for you; rather, whatever a person might curse upon us as enemies, that is contained in our own prayers.
For it is necessary that either your wife and children be deprived of their country or of you, and I will not wait to let this fortune settle the matter for me while I live through the war; but if I cannot persuade you to set friendship and concord in place of enmity and evil, and to become a benefactor of both peoples rather than the destroyer of one, then think this over and prepare yourself for the fact that you cannot come to grips with your country until you have first stepped over the corpse of the woman who bore you. For I must not wait for that day on which I shall see my son either led in triumph by his fellow citizens or triumphing against his fatherland,
If indeed I were asking you to save your country by destroying the Volscians, the choice set before you, my son, would be a hard and difficult one to live with; for it is neither honorable to destroy your fellow citizens, nor right to betray those who have trusted you. But as it is, we ask only for release from evils — a release that is equally salutary for both sides, but more glorious and honorable for the Volscians, because by their power they will appear to be giving the greatest of goods, while receiving no less themselves: peace and friendship. Of these, if they come about, you will be the chief cause; if they do not, you alone will bear the blame before both peoples.
And though the outcome of war is uncertain, this much is certain about it: that if you are victorious, you will be doomed to be a curse upon your own country, while if you are defeated, men will think that in your anger you became, to men who were your benefactors and friends, the cause of the greatest calamities."
While Volumnia was saying these things, Marcius listened without answering a word, and when she had finished he stood in silence for a long time. Again Volumnia spoke: "Why are you silent, my son? Is it noble to yield everything to anger and resentment, but not noble to grant a favor to a mother who begs
for such things as these? Is it fitting for a great man to remember the wrongs he has suffered, but not the work of a great and good man to revere and honor the benefits by which children are benefited by their parents? And indeed it would befit no one more than you to keep gratitude in mind, seeing how bitterly you pursue ingratitude in others.
And yet you have already exacted great penalties from your country, but you have given no thanks in return to your mother. It would have been most righteous for me, without any compulsion, to obtain from you things so honorable and just; but if I do not persuade you, why should I spare my last hope?" And having said this, she falls at his feet together with his wife and children,
and Marcius, crying out, "What have you done to me, mother!" raises her up, and gripping her right hand tightly, said, "You have won — a victory fortunate for your country, but ruinous for me; for I go away defeated by you alone." Having said this, and after a brief private word with his mother and wife, he granted their request and dispatched the two women back to Rome; then, once night had passed, he led the Volscians away, though not all of them disposed in the same way or alike toward him,
for some blamed both the man and the deed, others blamed neither, being inclined toward reconciliation and peace, while some, though displeased at what was being done, nevertheless did not consider Marcius wicked, but rather to be forgiven for having been broken by such great compulsions. No one spoke against him, but all followed him, admiring his virtue more than resenting his authority.
The people of Rome, who had been in such fear and danger while the war was upon them, gave clearer proof of their feeling once it was over. For as soon as those about the walls caught sight of the Volscians breaking camp, every temple at once was thrown open, with people wearing garlands as if for a victory, and offering sacrifice. But it was above all in the affection and honor shown toward the women, by both the senate and the whole people, that the joy of the city was made evident, as they said and believed that to those women, quite plainly, belonged the credit
for the city's deliverance. When the senate decreed that whatever the women should think fit to request, for honor or as a favor, the magistrates should carry out and provide, they asked for nothing else than that a temple of Women's Fortune be founded — the expense they contributed themselves, while the rites and honors due to the gods were undertaken by the city at public cost.
But when the senate had praised their generosity and had the temple and the cult image built at public expense, the women nonetheless contributed money of their own and had a second statue made, which, the Romans say, when it was set up in the temple, spoke out something to this effect: "By a rite pleasing to the gods have you women given me."
This voice, they say in legend, was even heard twice — persuading us to believe things resembling the unbelievable and difficult to accept. That statues should appear to sweat, and to shed tears, and to give off certain blood-like moisture, is not impossible; for wood and stone often gather a mold that generates moisture, and give off many colors from themselves, and take on tints from the surrounding air, so that there is nothing to prevent the divine from signifying something by means of these.
It is also possible for statues to emit a sound resembling a groan or a moan, through a crack or a more violent separation of their parts occurring deep within; but that an articulate voice and speech so clear, refined, and distinctly enunciated should occur in something inanimate is altogether impossible, since not even the soul and God himself can be conceived to sound and to converse without a bodily instrument fitted together with rational parts.
But where history compels us with many plausible witnesses, an experience unlike ordinary perception, arising in the imaginative faculty of the soul, brings belief along with what seems to be the case — just as in sleep we seem to hear without hearing and to see without seeing. Nevertheless, for those who through goodwill and love toward the god are excessively affected, and who are unable to reject or deny any such things, the marvelous and what is beyond our measure is a great aid to faith in the power of God,
for nothing at all resembles the human, either in nature, in motion, in skill, or in strength; nor is it strange if God does something that is impossible for us and contrives something beyond our means — rather, he differs greatly in all things, and is most of all unlike and set apart from us in his works. But most divine things, as Heraclitus says, escape being known through disbelief.
As for Marcius, when he returned to Antium from the campaign, Tullus, who had long hated him and was burdened by envy, plotted to kill him at once, reckoning that if he now escaped, he would not offer another opportunity. Having gathered many men and prepared them against him, he called on Marcius to render an account to the Volscians and to give up his command.
Marcius, fearing to become a private citizen while Tullus held command and had the greatest power among his own countrymen, said that he would give up his command to the Volscians if they so ordered — for indeed he had taken it up at the bidding of all — and that even now he did not refuse to render an account and give a reckoning before any of the Antiates who wished it. So an assembly was held, and the demagogues who had been prepared rose up and incited the crowd,
but when Marcius stood up, the excessive uproar gave way out of respect and allowed him to speak without fear, and the best men, and those most glad of peace among the Antiates, showed themselves ready to listen with goodwill and to judge justly — Tullus grew afraid of the man's defense. For he was among the most formidable of speakers, and his earlier deeds carried greater gratitude than the later charge carried blame; or rather, the very accusation itself was altogether a testimony to the greatness of the gratitude owed him.
For they would not have seemed wronged in not taking Rome captive, had they not, because of Marcius, come near to taking it. So it was decided not to delay any longer nor to test the temper of the crowd, but the boldest of the conspirators cried out that the Volscians must not listen to nor tolerate a traitor holding tyrannical power and refusing to lay down his command, and falling upon him all together they killed him, and none of those present came to his defense,
though that most were not pleased at what had been done they showed at once, running together from the cities to the body and burying it with honor, adorning the tomb with arms and spoils as befitted a champion and a general. The Romans, on learning of his death, gave no sign either of honor or of anger toward him, but when the women asked, they permitted them to mourn for ten months, as was the custom for each of them to mourn a father, a son, or a brother. For this was the limit of the longest mourning, which Numa Pompilius had fixed, as has been shown in the account written concerning him.
But the Volscians missed Marcius at once; for first, quarreling with the Aequians, who were their allies and friends, over the leadership, they came to wounds and killings; then, defeated in battle by the Romans, in which Tullus was killed and the flower of their power destroyed, they were content to accept the most shameful terms, becoming subjects and agreeing to do whatever was commanded them.