Tarquin the Superb, not being able to recover by artifice the throne
from which he had been expelled, sought to employ force. He had the
address to interest several neighbouring nations in his cause;--when
they had a chance of success, Rome had always plenty of enemies around
her. Porsenna, King of Clusium, then the most powerful monarch of
Italy, raised a numerous army in his defence, and laid siege to Rome.
In an assault, the two consuls were wounded, and the consequently
disordered Romans could not withstand their opponents. The Etruscans
attacked a bridge, the capture of which must lead to that of the city;
but Horatius, surnamed Cocles from having lost an eye, alone opposed
himself to the troops of Porsenna, whilst his companions broke down the
bridge behind him. When they had completed the work, he threw himself
into the Tiber and swam ashore.
The King of Clusium, having failed in his attempt, undertook to reduce
the place by famine; but the bold action of a young Roman soon made him
change his design. Mutius Scævola, animated by the same spirit that
had governed Cocles, was determined to relieve his country from this
dreaded enemy. He went to the Clusian camp, disguised as an Etruscan,
entered the king’s tent, and meeting with that prince’s secretary
superbly dressed, poniarded him instead of Porsenna. He was arrested,
led before the king, and strictly interrogated, whilst the instruments
of torture were ostentatiously displayed in his sight. Mutius, with a
haughty air, and without being the least intimidated by their menaces,
exclaimed, “_I am a Roman; I know how to suffer, I know how to die!_”
At the same time, as if he wished to punish the hand which had so ill
served him, he held it in the flame of a brazier till it was consumed,
looking all the while at Porsenna with a firm and stern glance. “There
are thirty of us,” said he, “all sworn to rid Rome of her implacable
enemy; and all will not make such a mistake as I have.” The king,
astonished at the intrepid coolness of the young Roman, concluded a
treaty of peace, which delivered Rome from the most formidable enemy
she had had to encounter. Among the hostages given by the Romans, was
Clœlia, a Roman maiden, possessed of courage beyond her sex or age.
She persuaded her companions to escape by swimming across the Tiber.
They succeeded, in spite of the numerous arrows discharged upon them
on their passage. The boldness of the action met with high praise in
Rome; but they were sent back to Porsenna, that public faith might
not be violated. That prince, however, was so much pleased with such
virtuous spirit, that he restored the generous maidens to freedom,
and made his alliance still more close with a city that could produce
heroines as well as heroes. Now all the best incidents of this siege
are deemed apochryphal; and yet, who will dare to tell us that the
well-authenticated accounts of the vices of the declining empire are
equally instructive and ameliorating? We cannot render minds we are
forming too familiar with pictures of the noble and the good, nor keep
from them too carefully representations of the wicked and debasing.