Плутарх - Plutarch's Lives - Volume I

XXXV. When he had taken his fill of embraces, perceiving that his mother desired to address him, he called the chiefs of the Volscians together, and listened to Volumnia, who addressed him as follows:

"You may judge, my son, by our dress and appearance, even though we keep silence, to what a miserable condition your exile has reduced us at home. Think now, how unhappy we must be, beyond all other women, when fortune has made the sight which ought to be most pleasing to us, most terrible, when I see my son, and your wife here sees her husband, besieging his native city. Even that which consoles people under all other misfortunes, prayer to the gods, has become impossible for us. We cannot beg of heaven to give us the victory and to save you, but our prayers for you must always resemble the imprecations of our enemies against Rome. Your wife and children are in such a position, that they must either lose you or lose their native country. For my own part, I cannot bear to live until fortune decides the event of this war. If I cannot now persuade you to make a lasting peace, and so become the benefactor instead of the scourge of the two nations, be well assured that you shall never assail Rome without first passing over the corpse of your mother. I cannot wait for that day on which I shall either see my countrymen triumphing over my son, or my son triumphing over his country. If indeed I were to ask you to betray the Volscians and save your country, this would be a hard request for you to grant; for though it is base to destroy one's own fellow citizens, it is equally wrong to betray those who have trusted you. But we merely ask for a respite from our sufferings, which will save both nations alike from ruin, and which will be all the more glorious for the Volscians because their superiority in the field has put them in a position to grant us the greatest of blessings, peace and concord, in which they also will share alike with us. You will be chiefly to be thanked for these blessings, if we obtain them, and chiefly to be blamed if we do not. For though the issue of war is always doubtful, this much is evident, that if you succeed, you will become your country's evil genius, and if you fail, you will have inflicted the greatest miseries on men who are your friends and benefactors, merely in order to gratify your own private spite."

XXXVI. While Volumnia spoke thus, Marcius listened to her in silence. After she had ceased, he stood for a long while without speaking, until she again addressed him. "Why art thou silent, my son? Is it honourable to make everything give way to your rancorous hatred, and is it a disgrace to yield to your mother, when she pleads for such important matters? Does it become a great man to remember that he has been ill treated, and does it not rather become him to recollect the debt which children owe to their parents. And yet no one ought to be more grateful than you yourself, who punish ingratitude so bitterly: in spite of which, though you have already taken a deep revenge on your country for its ill treatment of you, you have not made your mother any return for her kindness. It would have been right for me to gain my point without any pressure, when pleading in such a just and honourable cause; but if I cannot prevail by words, this resource alone is left me." Saying this, she fell at his feet, together with his wife and children. Marcius, crying out, "What have you done to me, mother?" raised her from the ground, and pressing her hand violently, exclaimed, "You have conquered; your victory is a blessed one for Rome, but ruinous to me, for I shall retreat conquered by you alone." After speaking thus, and conferring for a short time in private with his mother and his wife, he at their own request sent them back to Rome, and the following night led away the Volscian army. Various opinions were current among the Volscians about what had taken place. Some blamed him severely, while others approved, because they wished for peace. Others again, though they disliked what he had done, yet did not regard him as a traitor, but as a soft–hearted man who had yielded to overwhelming pressure. However, no one disobeyed him, but all followed him in his retreat, though more out of regard for his noble character than for his authority.

XXXVII. The Roman people, when the war was at an end, showed even more plainly than before what terror and despair they had been in. As soon as they saw the Volscians retreating from their walls, all the temples were opened, and filled with worshippers crowned with garlands and sacrificing as if for a victory. The joy of the senate and people was most conspicuously shown in their gratitude to the women, whom they spoke of as having beyond all doubt saved Rome. The senate decreed that the magistrates should grant to the women any mark of respect and esteem which they themselves might choose. The women decided on the building of the temple of Female Fortune, the expenses of which they themselves offered to subscribe, only asking the state to undertake the maintenance of the services in it. The senate praised their public spirit, but ordered the temple and shrine to be built at the public expense. Nevertheless, the women with their own money provided a second image of the goddess, which the Romans say, when it was placed in the temple was heard to say,

"A pleasing gift have women placed me here."

XXXVIII. The legend says that this voice was twice heard, which seems impossible and hard for us to believe. It is not impossible for statues to sweat, to shed tears, or to be covered with spots of blood, because wood and stone often when mouldering or decaying, collect moisture within them, and not only send it forth with many colours derived from their own substance, but also receive other colours from the air; and there is nothing that forbids us to believe that by such appearances as these heaven may foreshadow the future. It is also possible that statues should make sounds like moaning or sighing, by the tearing asunder of the particles of which they are composed; but that articulate human speech should come from inanimate things is altogether impossible, for neither the human soul, nor even a god can utter words without a body fitted with the organs of speech. Whenever therefore we find many credible witnesses who force us to believe something of this kind, we must suppose that the imagination was influenced by some sensation which appeared to resemble a real one, just as in dreams we seem to hear when we hear not, and to see when we see not. Those persons, however, who are full of religious fervour and love of the gods, and who refuse to disbelieve or reject anything of this kind, find in its miraculous character, and in the fact that the ways of God are not as our ways, a great support to their faith. For He resembles mankind in nothing, neither in nature, nor movement, nor learning, nor power, and so it is not to be wondered at if He does what seems to us impossible. Nay, though He differs from us in every respect, it is in his works that He is most unlike us. But, as Herakleitus says, our knowledge of things divine mostly fails for want of faith.

XXXIX. When Marcius returned to Antium, Tullus, who had long hated him and envied his superiority, determined to put him to death, thinking that if he let slip the present opportunity he should not obtain another. Having suborned many to bear witness against him, he called upon him publicly to render an account to the Volscians of what he had done as their general. Marcius, fearing to be reduced to a private station while his enemy Tullus, who had great influence with his countrymen, was general, answered that he had been given his office of commander–in–chief by the Volscian nation, and to them alone would he surrender it, but that as to an account of what he had done, he was ready at that moment, if they chose, to render it to the people of Antium. Accordingly the people assembled, and the popular orators endeavoured by their speeches to excite the lower classes against Marcius. When, however, he rose to speak, the mob were awed to silence, while the nobility, and those who had gained by the peace, made no secret of their good will towards him, and of their intention to vote in his favour. Under these circumstances, Tullus was unwilling to let him speak, for he was a brilliant orator, and his former services far outweighed his last offence. Indeed, the whole indictment was a proof of how much they owed him, for they never could have thought themselves wronged by not taking Rome, if Marcius had not brought them so near to taking it. Tullus, therefore, thought that it would not do to wait, or to trust to the mob, but he and the boldest of his accomplices, crying out that the Volscians could not listen to the traitor, nor endure him to play the despot over them by not laying down his command, rushed upon him in a body and killed him, without any of the bystanders interfering in his behalf. However, the most part of the nation was displeased at this act, as was soon proved by the numbers who came from every city to see his dead body, by the splendid funeral with which he was honoured, and by the arms and trophies which were hung over his tomb, as that of a brave man and a consummate general.