Tullius at once accepted the offer of the “banished lord”; and determined to break the treaty which there then was between his people and the Romans. But the Volscians were afraid to go to war. So Tullius had recourse to fraud. It happened that one Titus Atinius, a plebeian of Rome, was warned in a dream to go to the consuls, and order them to celebrate the great games over again, because they had not been rightly performed the first time. But he was afraid and would not go. Then his son fell sick and died; and again he dreamed the same dream; but still he would not go. Then he was himself stricken with palsy; and so he delayed no longer, but made his friends carry him on a litter to the consuls. And they believed his words, and the great games were begun again with increased pomp; and many of the Volscians, being at peace with Rome, came to see them. Upon this Tullius went secretly to the consuls, and told them that his countrymen were thronging to Rome, and he feared they had mischief in their thoughts. Then the consuls laid this secret information before the senate; and the senate decreed that all Volscians should depart from Rome before sunset. This decree seemed to the Volscians to be a wanton insult, and they went home in a rage. Tullius met them on their way home at the fountain of Ferentina, where the Latins had been wont to hold their councils of old; and he spoke to them and increased their anger, and persuaded them to break off their treaty with the Romans. So the Volscians made war against Rome, and chose Attius Tullius and Caius Marcius the Roman to be their commanders.
The army advanced against Rome, ravaging and laying waste all the lands of the plebeians, but letting those of the patricians remain untouched. This increased the jealousy between the orders, and the consuls found it impossible to raise an army to go out against the enemy. Coriolanus took one Latin town after another, and even the Volscians deserted their own general to serve under his banners. He now advanced and encamped at the Cluilian Fossa, within five miles of the city.
Coriolanus received by the Volscians
(From a picture by Mirys)
Nothing was now to be seen within the walls but consternation and despair. The temples of the gods were filled with suppliants; the plebeians themselves pressed the senate to make peace with the terrible Coriolanus. Meantime the enemy advanced to the very gates of the city, and at length the senate agreed to send five men, chiefs among the patricians, to turn away the anger of their countryman. He received them with the utmost sternness; said that he was now general of the Volscians, and must do what was best for his new friends; that if they wished for peace they must restore all the lands and places that had been taken from the Volscians, and must admit these people to an equal league, and put them on an equal footing with the Latins. The deputies could not accept these terms, so they returned to Rome. The senate sent them back, to ask for milder terms; but the haughty exile would not suffer them to enter his camp.
Then went forth another deputation, graver and more solemn than the former—the pontiffs, flamens, and augurs, all attired in their priestly robes, who besought him, by all that he held sacred, by the respect he owed to his country’s gods, to give them assurance of peace and safety. He treated them with grave respect, but sent them away without relaxing any of his demands.
It seemed as if the glory of Rome were departing, as if the crown were about to be transferred to the cities of the Volscians. But not so was it destined to be. It chanced that as all the women were weeping and praying in the temples, the thought arose among them that they might effect what patricians and priests had alike failed to do. It was Valeria, the sister of the great Valerius Publicola, who first started the thought, and she prevailed on Volumnia, the stern mother of the exile, to accompany the mournful train. With them also went Virgilia, his wife, leading her two boys by the hand, and a crowd of other women. Coriolanus beheld them from afar, as he was sitting on a raised seat among the Volscian chiefs, and resolved to send back them also with a denial. But when they came near, and he saw his mother at the head of the sad procession, he sprang from his seat, and was about to kiss her. But she drew back with all the loftiness of a Roman matron, and said: “Art thou Caius Marcius, and am I thy mother? or art thou the general of the Volscian foe, and I a prisoner in his camp? Before thou kissest me, answer me that question.” Caius stood silent, and his mother went on: “Shall it be said that it is to me, to me alone, that Rome owes her conqueror and oppressor? Had I never been a mother, my country had still been free. But I am too old to feel this misery long. Look to thy wife and little ones; thou art enslaving thy country, and with it thou enslavest them.” The fierce Roman’s heart sank before the indignant words of her whom he had feared and respected from his childhood; and when his wife and children hanging about him added their soft prayers to the lofty supplications of his mother, he turned to her with bitterness of soul, and said: “O my mother, thou hast saved Rome, but lost thy son!”
So he drew off his army, and the women went back to Rome and were hailed as the saviours of their country. And the senate ordered a temple to be built and dedicated to “Woman’s Fortune” (Fortuna Muliebris); and Valeria was the first priestess of the temple.
But Coriolanus returned to dwell among the Volscians; and Tullius, who had before become jealous of his superiority, excited the people against him, saying that he had purposely spared their great enemy the city of Rome, even when it was within their grasp. So he lost favour, and was slain in a tumult;[32] and the words he had spoken to his mother were truly fulfilled.[c]