by Plutarch
31. There were a number of the Volscians who had for some time envied his success and felt uneasy at the influence he had acquired, and this action provided them with their first opportunity to attack him. Among these were Tullus, not because he had been personally wronged in any way by Marcius, but because, being only human, he was angry to find his reputation totally eclipsed and himself ignored by the Volscians, who now felt that Marcius was everything to them, and that the other leaders ought to be thankful for whatever measure of power and authority he allowed them to share. It was in this way that the first seeds of complaint and denunciation were scattered in secret, and Marcius’ opponents began to meet and compare their grievances. They called his withdrawal from Roman territory an act of treachery, not because he had betrayed cities or armies, but because he had thrown away a critical and favourable opportunity, which is the deciding factor as to whether these or any other prizes are won or lost. The fact was that he had given the Romans a breathing space of thirty days, and in war it is always possible for a decisive change to take place in a far shorter time.
However, during this month of suspense Marcius was anything but idle. He attacked the Romans’ allies, raided and devastated their territories and captured seven of their largest and more populous cities. All this while the Romans never ventured to send help to their friends. Their spirits were cowed, and they showed so little inclination for the war that you might have thought their limbs were paralysed or benumbed. When the thirty days had expired and Marcius appeared for the second time before Rome with his whole army, they sent another delegation to implore him to relent, to withdraw the Volscian troops from their territory and then put forward whatever terms he thought best for both parties. The Romans would not give way out of fear, but if he considered that certain concessions ought to be made to the Volscians, all these would be granted if they laid down their arms. Marcius’ reply was that as commander of the Volscians he could not discuss this offer, but that as a man who was still a citizen of Rome, he strongly advised them to put themselves into a humbler frame of mind, reconsider what justice required of them and come back in three days’ time with a ratification of his original demands. If they should decide otherwise, they must know that it would not be safe for them to enter his camp again with nothing but empty phrases.
32. When this delegation had returned to Rome and made its report to the senate, it was plain to all that the ship of state was being tossed on the billows of a fearful tempest, and since the waves seemed about to overwhelm it, it was decided to let go the sheet anchor. A decree was passed that the whole order of priests, the celebrants or custodians of the sacred mysteries, and those who practised the ancient and ancestral art of divination80 from the flight of birds, should go in procession to Marcius, all of them dressed in the vestments used for the performance of their various functions, and should solemnly entreat him in the same manner as before to declare a truce and then discuss with his own countrymen what terms should be offered to the Volscians. Marcius went so far as to admit this deputation to his camp, but that was the limit of his tolerance. He spoke and behaved with them as harshly as before and curtly reminded them that the Romans must either offer a settlement which complied with his original terms, or else resign themselves to war.
When the priests returned, the Romans decided that they would remain quietly inside their city, doing no more than guarding the walls and repelling the enemy if they attempted an assault. Above all, they resolved to put their trust in the passing of time and accidents of fortune, since they could see no means of saving themselves by their own efforts. The city was full of confusion, terror and rumours of disaster, until at last something happened which resembled one of those incidents such as Homer often describes, although people are usually unwilling to believe them. When some great and unusual action is about to take place, the poet declares in his lofty manner:
Then in his mind the grey-eyed Athena planted
this notion,81
or again,
Then some immortal changed his resolve by making
him ponder
The thought of what men might say,82
or again,
Either because he suspected, or the god enjoined
him to act.83
People are apt to despise Homer, and to think that by introducing miraculous exploits and fantastic tales he makes it impossible to believe in the power of men to decide their course of action. But the truth is that Homer does nothing of the kind, for whenever an action is natural, normal and the result of deliberation, he attributes this to our own powers, as we see in the phrase which he often uses:
Then I took counsel within my stout heart …84
or again,
Such were his words, and Peleus’ son was sorely
afflicted,
So that within his rough breast two counsels strove
for decision,85
or again,
… but she could never
Lure the noble Bellerophon out of his upright
resolve.86
On the other hand, when he wishes to describe some prodigious or extraordinary exploit, whose accomplishment demands an element of supernatural possession or a sudden rush of heroic courage, Homer does not represent the god as depriving a man of his choice of action, but rather as guiding it, or, on other occasions, not as implanting the impulse itself but rather the idea which inspires the impulse. Thus he does not suggest that the deed is involuntary, but rather that the hero’s will is set in motion, while courage and hope are added to strengthen it. And indeed, unless we are to rule out completely the idea that the gods can initiate or influence our actions, in what other way can they give us their help or support? They certainly do not manipulate our bodies or control the movements of our hands or feet. Instead, they make us aware of motives, or present images to the imagination, or thoughts to the mind, and in this way they either arouse the powers of decision and action in our natures, or else restrain or divert them.
33. During these days of crisis in Rome various groups of women went to all the temples in the city, but the greatest number and the most nobly born offered up their prayers at the altar of Jupiter Capitolinus.87 One of these was Valeria, a sister of the great Publicola,88 who had rendered the state such immense services, both in war and in political life. Publicola had died some years before, as I have recorded in my biography of the man, but Valeria was still living and enjoyed great honour and respect in Rome, since her life was seen to be in every way worthy of her noble birth. This woman, then, suddenly experienced one of those intuitions such as I have described, and, recognizing with an insight which must surely have been divinely inspired what would be the best course, rose from her knees and called upon the other women to accompany her to the house of Marcius’ mother, Volumnia. She entered, and when she saw Volumnia sitting with her daughter-in-law Vergilia, holding Marcius’ children on her lap, she called her companions round her and said: ‘Volumnia and Vergilia, we have come to you as women to women, not because we have been ordered here by the senate or the consuls, but because our god, as I believe, has listened to our prayers and put into our hearts the inspiration that we should turn to you. We are here to implore you to attempt something which will not only be the salvation of ourselves and the whole Roman people, but which will bring you, if you agree, a greater glory than was earned even by the daughters of the Sabines, when they converted their fathers and their husbands from mortal enmity to friendship and peace.89 Come now, and go along with us to Marcius; join us in entreating him to show compassion, and help us to bear this true and just testimony for your country, that although she has suffered great wrongs from him, she has never, even in her anger, done or thought of doing harm to you, but restores you safe into his hands, even though he may grant her no better terms on that account.’
When Valeria had finished speaking, the other women added their voices to hers in appealing to Volumnia, who then answered as follows: ‘My friends, we share with you the
misfortune which has come upon the whole Roman people, but we have another of our own. We have lost the glory and the virtue which Marcius once possessed, and we are forced to see him as a man who is imprisoned rather than protected by the arms of our enemies. And yet the greatest misfortune of all is that Rome has grown so weak that she must rest her hopes of safety upon us. I do not know whether Marcius will show any regard for us, since he has none for his country, which he once loved better than his mother, his wife and his children. But in any case take us, make what use of us you can and lead us to him. If we can do nothing else, we can die offering up our prayers for our country.’
34. With this she took Marcius’ children and Vergilia, and set out with the other women for the Volscian camp. They were a pitiful sight, and even the enemy greeted them with a respectful silence. It so happened that at that moment Marcius was seated on a tribunal with his chief officers around him. When he first caught sight of the procession of women approaching, he was filled with amazement. Then he recognized his mother walking at their head, and although he struggled hard to maintain his remorseless and inflexible resolve, he found himself overcome by his feelings. He could not bear to receive the women while he was seated and so jumped down from the tribunal and ran to meet them. He greeted his mother first and clasped her for a long while in his arms, and then when he had embraced his wife and children he could no longer hold back either his tears or his affection, but allowed himself to be swept away by a flood of emotion.
35. When he had thus relieved his pent-up feelings and understood that his mother wished to tell him something, he called together the Volscian leaders and they heard Volumnia speak as follows: ‘My son, even if we were to say nothing, the wretchedness of our dress and our appearance should make you understand in what misery we have lived at home ever since you were banished. But now you must know that we who have come to you here are the unhappiest women alive, for fate has made that sight which should have been the most joyful into the most terrible of all, when Volumnia is compelled to see her son, and Vergilia her husband, turning his arms against the walls of his native city. And even to pray to the gods, which others may find a comfort in their misfortunes, has become impossible for us, since we cannot ask them in the same breath to make our country victorious and to keep you safe. When we pray for you, we are calling down a curse upon Rome, such as the bitterest of her enemies could desire, and your wife and children are compelled to sacrifice either their native land or you. As for me, I shall not wait for the war to decide this issue for me. If I cannot prevail upon you to prefer friendship and harmony to enmity and strife, and thus become the benefactor of both countries rather than the scourge of one of them, then you must know – and let there be no doubt of his – that you shall never attack Rome unless you trample first upon the dead body of the mother who bore you. I do not choose to wait for the day when I shall be forced to watch my son led in triumph by his fellow-citizens or triumphing over them. If I were to ask you to save your country by ruining the Volscians, then I admit, my son, that you would be faced with a cruel choice, since it is neither honourable for a man to destroy his fellow-citizens, nor just to betray those who have trusted him. But as it is, all we ask is to be delivered from the disaster that threatens us. If this is done, it will prove the salvation of both nations, but it will bring more honour and glory to the Volscians. They have shown themselves the superior in arms, and this fact puts them in the position of being the givers of the two greatest blessings, peace and friendship, while they themselves will receive no less. If this happy issue comes to pass, you will have done more than any man to bring it about; if not, you alone will bear the blame from both sides. And although the chances of war are always uncertain, this much is sure: if you conquer Rome, you will be the evil genius of your country, but if you are defeated, the world will say that to satisfy your revenge you did not hesitate to bring disaster upon your friends and benefactors.’
36. While Volumnia was speaking, Marcius listened without uttering a word, and after she had finished he stood for a long while in silence, until she asked him: ‘Why have you nothing to say, my son? Is it right to sacrifice everything to anger and resentment, but wrong to give way to your mother when she pleads with you in such a cause as this? A great man has no need to remember every wrong he has suffered, but a man who is both good and great should remember the benefits that children receive from their parents, and he should repay these by honouring and respecting them. Surely no man ought to value gratitude more highly than yourself, since you are so relentless in punishing ingratitude? And yet, although you have done much to punish your country, you have shown no gratitude to your mother. So it would have been an act of reverence on your part to grant what I asked without any pressure, when I came to plead in such a just and honourable cause; but since I cannot persuade you, I must use my last resource.’ As she spoke, she and his wife and children threw themselves at his feet. At this Marcius cried out: ‘Mother, mother, what have you done?’ Then he raised her up and tenderly pressed her hand. ‘You have won your victory,’ he told her, ‘you have saved Rome, but you have destroyed your son. This is my defeat, even though none but you could have defeated me.’ He spoke privately for a few moments more to his mother and his wife, then sent them back to Rome as they wished. The next morning he marched the Volscian army out of Roman territory.
The Volscians themselves were variously affected by what had happened. Some of them now found fault with the man himself and with what he had done, others, who were in favour of a peaceful solution to the quarrel with Rome, approved of both, while others again, although they were angry at his action, could not regard him as a traitor, and thought it excusable to have yielded to such irresistible pressure. At any rate none refused to accept his orders and they all followed him obediently, although they did this rather because they admired his courage than because they any longer accepted his authority.
37. As for the Roman people, the end of the war revealed even more clearly the full extent of the terror and the sense of danger which had oppressed them while it lasted. As soon as they observed from the walls that the Volscian army was withdrawing, every temple in Rome was thrown open and the citizens decked themselves with garlands and offered up sacrifices, as if they were celebrating a victory. But the senate and the whole people showed their joy most of all in the honours and marks of affection which they paid to the women, who, they declared, had proved themselves beyond any doubt to be the saviours of the city. However, when the senate passed a decree to the effect that any honour or privilege which they asked for themselves should be granted by the magistrates, their only request was that a temple should be erected to the Fortune of Women.90 They offered to pay the costs of building it, provided that the state would undertake to carry out at public expense all the sacrifices and other honours which are due to the gods. The senate praised their public spirit, but nevertheless ordered the temple and its statue to be built at the expense of the state. In spite of this, the women raised money themselves and set up a second image of the goddess, and the Romans say that as this statue was placed in the temple, it was heard to utter the words, ‘Women, your gift of me is pleasing to the gods.’91
38. According to the tradition that has come down to us, these words were not merely uttered but repeated, but to say this is to ask us to accept what is almost incredible and probably never happened. It is not difficult to credit that statues may have appeared to ooze with sweat, shed tears or exude something which resembles drops of blood, since wood and stone often gather a mould which produces moisture, and not only display various colours themselves, but take on other tints from the atmosphere. And there is nothing to prevent us from believing that the gods sometimes communicate with us by means of such phenomena. It is also possible that statues may give out a sound which resembles a groan or a sigh, which is caused by a fracture or splitting of the particles of which they may be composed, and produces a louder noise if it takes place inside.92 But the notion th
at articulate speech, so clear and abundant and precise, could proceed from a lifeless object goes beyond the bounds of possibility, since neither the human soul, nor even a god, has ever spoken or conversed without possessing a body which is organically constructed and fitted with the various vocal members. Still, in a case where history compels our assent by providing a large number of convincing witnesses, we are forced to conclude that the imaginative faculty of the soul underwent an experience which was not really a sensation, but persuaded the people that it was one, just as, for example, when we are asleep we believe that we see and hear, although in reality we do neither. However, those who possess a deep sense of reverence for the divine, and cherish religion so strongly that they cannot disbelieve or reject phenomena of this sort, find a powerful support for their faith in the miraculous nature of the divine power, and the fact that its ways are not as ours. Yet the divine bears no resemblance to the human either in its nature or the scope of its activity or the skill or strength of its operations, nor is there anything incompatible with reason in the fact that it should achieve what is beyond our power, or execute what is impracticable for us; on the contrary, since it differs from us in every respect, it is in its works above all that it is unlike and remote from us. However, as Heracleitus remarks, most of the attributes of the divine escape our understanding owing to their incredibility.93
39. Now, when Marcius returned to Antium from his expedition, Tullus, who had long hated and felt jealous of him, began to make plans to remove his rival immediately, for he was afraid that if Marcius escaped him now, he was never likely to give him another such advantage. He therefore gathered together a large body of supporters to oppose Marcius, and then summoned him to lay down his command and render to the Volscians an account of his conduct as their general. Marcius was alarmed at the prospect of returning to private life while Tullus remained in authority and continued to exercise a powerful influence upon his countrymen, and so he answered that as he had received his command from the whole Volscian people, it was to them that he should surrender it, if this was their will; meanwhile, he was ready to give an account of his generalship to the people of Antium, if they desired it. So an assembly was summoned, and the popular orators, as had been arranged, did their utmost to rouse the people against him. But when Marcius rose to reply, even the rowdiest elements in his audience fell silent and allowed him to speak freely, while the best of the men of Antium, and those who were content with the peace, made it clear that they were well disposed towards him and would judge his case fairly. Tullus now began to be afraid of the effect of his opponent’s defence, for he was an orator of great power, and the services he had originally rendered to the Volscians won him gratitude that far excelled the effect of his recent offence. Indeed, the whole indictment against him was really a proof of how much they owed him, for they would never have become conscious of a grievance at not capturing Rome if Marcius’ efforts had not brought them so close to success.
