Story of the Greek and the Roman People

Not much is known of these wars except that the Romans were finally victorious; but there are two or three fine old stories about them that ought not to be forgotten. One is the story of a valiant soldier named Caius Marcius. The Romans were besieging Corioli, a town held by the Volscians, when the Volscians suddenly threw open the gates and dashed out upon them.

The young Caius Marcius and his followers repelled their attack, rushed in through the open gates, caught up firebrands, and set fire to the houses nearest the wall. Then the Volscian women and children wailed, and the men cried out in terror, for they were in the hands of their enemies. In memory of this exploit, the Romans gave the young hero the name of Coriolanus, and after this he was known as Caius Marcius Coriolanus.

A little later there was a famine in Rome. Corn was brought from Sicily, and the senators were discussing at what price it should be sold to the plebeians. Coriolanus had from the first been indignant that the plebeians should be gaining power in the state, and he said, "If the plebeians want corn at the old rates, let them give up their tribunes and restore to the senators their own proper rights." The plebeians learned of this speech, and they were so angry that Coriolanus had to flee to the Volscians. He offered to lead them against Rome. They were delighted to have so famous a leader, and he set out with a large army. He took one Roman town after another, and pitched his camp only a few miles from Rome. Then the Romans were in great alarm. They sent some of the senators, old friends of Coriolanus, to ask him to make peace; but he refused. Then the priests went to him, wearing their robes of office and bearing the images of the gods; but he still refused. Suddenly a friend told him that a great company of noble ladies was approaching the camp. "And unless my eyes deceive me," said the friend, "your mother and wife and children are at their head." Coriolanus sprang from his seat. Before him stood his mother, with his wife on one side, and his children on the other. He would have thrown his arms about his mother's neck, but she drew back. "First let me know," she said sternly, "whether I am coming to my son or to an enemy. Is it possible that you can lay waste this land which gave you birth and has cared for you? Look at your wife and children, and think that if you persist, they must either die or become slaves." The whole company of women moaned and lamented and begged him to spare the city. His children and his wife kissed him and embraced him and begged for mercy. At last Coriolanus yielded. He turned to his mother and said sadly, "Mother, this is a happy victory for you and for Rome, but it is shame and ruin for your son." He withdrew his troops and returned to the Volscians. Some say that in their anger they put him to death, and some say that he remained an exile among them as long as he lived.

From the wars with the Aquians comes the story of Lucius Quinctius, called Cincinnatus, or the curly-haired. He was a patrician, but he was poor, and he and his wife lived contentedly on their little farm just beyond the Tiber. One warm day he had thrown off his toga, and, wearing only his tunic, was busily ploughing when some men from Rome came into the field. They greeted one another in friendly fashion. Then the men spoke to him formally. "Listen to the commands of the senate," they said, "for we are its ambassadors." Cincinnatus wiped off the dust and sweat, his wife brought his toga, and when he had put it on, the ambassadors saluted him with reverence as dictator. A vessel was moored at the river bank, waiting to carry him across to the city. On the opposite shore stood his three sons, his relatives, and friends, and nearly all the patricians of Rome. They were in grievous trouble, for the "Aequians had shut up the consul and his troops in a narrow valley, and no one could form any plan for rescuing them. The Romans believed that Cincinnatus was the one man who would know what to do, and therefore they had made him dictator. Cincinnatus knew how to think fast, and before night he had decided upon a plan. He ordered every man in Rome to come to the Campus Martius, with his weapons, food for five days, and twelve long, sharp stakes. At sunset they set out on a rapid march and reached the enemy at midnight. Cincinnatus arranged his men in a line around the camp. "When the signal is given," he said, "let each man dig a trench in front of him and also drive down his stakes." In the morning the "Aequians found that they were shut in by a ditch, a palisade, and a line of valiant soldiers, and they were forced to surrender. The dictator set up two spears in the ground and tied a third spear across their tops. This was called a yoke, and under it the whole Aequian army was made to march to show that they had become subject to the Roman people. The consul and his men saluted Cincinnatus and voted him a golden crown of a pound's weight. Then they set off for the city. First came the Aequian leaders, led as captives; then the military standards, and Cincinnatus in his chariot. Behind him marched the army with the spoils of the enemy. There was great rejoicing in Rome. Before every house along the way was a table spread with food; and as the soldiers marched through the city, they feasted and sang songs of victory. Honors were showered upon Cincinnatus; but just as soon as he was free, he laid down the dictatorship and went back quietly to his little farm across the Tiber.