The same spirit was shown by Caius Mucius and the maiden Cloelia and
many others in the long and bitter wars that followed. Tarquin found
refuge with Lars Porsena, King of the Etruscans, who pretended to be
eager to restore him while he really wanted to submit the Roman people
to his own rule. Porsena laid siege to the city and the people were
reduced to the hardest straits. A young man named Caius Mucius
determined to kill Lars Porsena. He succeeded in passing through the
enemy's lines and made his way into their camp. There he saw a man clad
in purple whom he took to be Lars Porsena. In his heart he plunged the
dagger he had hidden under the folds of his toga. The man fell dead. But
he was not the King. Mucius was carried before Lars and to him he said,
'I am a Roman, my name Caius Mucius. There are in Rome hundreds of young
men resolved, as I was, to take your life or perish in the attempt. You
may slay me but you cannot escape them all.' Porsena demanded the names
of the others: Mucius refused to speak. When Porsena said he would
compel him to speak by torture Mucius merely smiled. On the altar a
flame was burning. To prove to the ally of Tarquin of what stuff the
young men of Rome were made, he thrust his right arm into the flame and
held it so without flinching until the flesh was charred away. Such, his
action showed the King, was the spirit of Rome.
[Illustration: ROMAN LEGIONARY
from a Brit. Mus. bronze]
_Mucius: The Spirit of Rome_
Mucius was escaping through the scared throng, that fell away
before his bloody dagger, when, summoned by the shouts, the King's
guards seized him and dragged him back. Standing helpless before
the throne, but even in such desperate position more formidable
than afraid, he cried out, 'I am a Roman citizen; my name is Caius
Mucius. My purpose was to kill an enemy of my country; I have as
much courage to die as I had to slay; a Roman should be ready for
great deeds and great suffering. Nor have I alone been emboldened
to strike this blow; behind me is a long line of comrades who seek
the same honour. Therefore, if you choose, prepare for a struggle
in which you will fight for your life every hour of the day and
have the sword of an enemy at your palace door. Such is the war
that we, the youth of Rome, proclaim against you. You need not
fear armies and battles; by yourself you will meet us one by one.'
When the King, enraged and terrified, was threatening to have him
thrown into the flames unless he explained the hints of
assassination thus vaguely uttered, he replied, 'See how worthless
the body is to those whose gaze is fixed on glory.' With these
words he laid his right hand on a brazier already lighted for the
sacrifice and let it burn, too resolute, as it seemed, to feel
pain. Then Porsena, astounded at the sight, ordered Mucius to be
removed from the altar and exclaimed, 'Begone, your own desperate
enemy more than mine. I would wish well to your valour, if that
valour was on the side of my country. As it is, I send you hence
unharmed and free from the penalties of war.'
Livy, ii. 12. 8-14.
Later in the same war the Romans were compelled to give hostages,
twenty-four men and maidens. Cloelia, a highborn maiden sent among them,
escaped at night and on horseback swam across the foaming Tiber to Rome.
But since she had been given as a hostage and faith once given was
sacred, the Roman leaders sent her back.
_Cloelia's Heroism_
This reward granted to the heroism of Mucius inspired women also
with ambition to win honour from the people. The maiden Cloelia,
one of the hostages, escaped the sentries of the Etruscan camp,
which had been pitched near the Tiber, and amid a shower of
missiles swam across the river, leading a band of maidens whom she
brought back safe to their families in Rome. When Porsena heard of
it, he was at first enraged, and sent envoys to the city with a
demand for the return of his hostage Cloelia; he made no great
account of the others. Afterwards, his anger being changed to
admiration, he said that her exploit surpassed anything done by
Horatius or Mucius, and declared that he would consider the treaty
broken if the hostage was not surrendered, but that if she was, he
would send her back unharmed to her people. Faith was kept on both
sides; the Romans returned the guarantee of peace in accordance
with the terms of the treaty, and the King not only protected but
honoured the heroine, making her a present of half the hostages
and bidding her choose as she pleased. The story is that when they
were brought before her, she picked out the youngest, a choice at
once creditable to her modesty and approved by the unanimous wish
of the rest that those whose age made them most helpless should be
liberated first. After the restoration of peace the Romans
recognized this unexampled heroism in a woman with the honour,
also unexampled, of an equestrian statue. It was placed at the top
of the Sacred Way, a maiden sitting on a horse.
Livy, ii. 13. 6-11.
This same high temper and unflinching sense of honour was shown two
hundred years later in an even more splendid way by Atilius Regulus.