Ab urbe condita

It was the victors' turn now to be alarmed, and this new danger and the uphill fighting made the Roman line give ground. Whilst the Volscians who had charged from the camp pressed home their attack, the others who had made the pretended flight renewed the contest.

At last the Romans no longer retired in order; forgetting their recent battle-ardour and their old renown they began to flee in all directions, and in wild disorder were making for their camp. Camillus, after being assisted to mount by those around, hastily brought up the reserves and blocked their flight. “Is this, soldiers,” he cried, “the battle which you were clamouring for? Who is the man, who is the god that you can throw the blame upon?

Then you were foolhardy; now you are cowards. You have been following another captain, now follow Camillus and conquer, as you are accustomed to do, under my leadership. Why are you looking at the rampart and the camp?

Not a man of you shall enter there unless you are victorious.” A feeling of shame at first arrested their disorderly flight, then, when they saw the standards brought round and the line turning to face the enemy, and their leader, illustrious through a hundred triumphs and now venerable through age, showing himself amongst the fore- most ranks where the risk and toil were greatest, mutual reproaches mingled with words of encouragement were heard through the whole field till finally they burst into a ringing cheer.

The other tribune did not show himself wanting to the occasion. Whilst his colleague was rallying the infantry he was sent to the cavalry. He did not venture to censure them —his share in their fault left him too little authority for that —but dropping all tone of command be implored them one and all to clear him from the guilt of that day's misfortunes.

“In spite,” he said, “of the refusal and opposition of my colleague I preferred to associate myself with the rashness of all rather than with the prudence of one. Whatever your fortunes may be, Camillus sees his own glory reflected in them; I, unless the day is won, shall have the utter wretchedness of sharing the fortunes of all but bearing the infamy alone.”

As the infantry were wavering it seemed best for the cavalry, after dismounting and leaving their horses to be held, to attack the enemy on foot. Conspicuous for their arms and dashing courage they went wherever they saw the infantry force pressed.

Officers and men emulated each other in fighting with a determination and courage which never slackened. The effect of such strenuous bravery was shown in the result; the Volscians who a short time before had given ground in simulated fear were now scattered in real panic. A large number were killed in the actual battle and the subsequent flight, others in the camp, which was carried in the same charge; there were more prisoners, however, than slain.

On examining the prisoners, it was discovered that some were from Tusculum; these were brought separately before the tribunes and on being questioned admitted that their State authorised their taking up arms.

Alarmed at the prospect of a war so close to the City, Camillus said that he would at once conduct the prisoners to Rome so that the senate might not remain in ignorance of the fact that the Tusculans had abandoned the alliance with Rome.

His colleague might, if he thought good, remain in command of the army in camp. One day's experience had taught him not to prefer his own counsels to wiser ones, but even so, neither he nor any one in the army supposed that Camillus would calmly pass over that blunder of his by which the republic had been exposed to headlong disaster.

Both in the army and at Rome it was universally remarked that in the chequered fortune which had attended the Volscian campaign, the blame for the unsuccessful battle and flight would be visited on L. Furius, the glory of the

successful one would rest with M.. Furius Camillus. After the examination of the prisoners the senate resolved upon war with Tusculum, and entrusted the conduct of it to Camillus. He requested that he might have one coadjutor, and on receiving permission to choose whom he would, he selected, to every one's surprise, L. Furius By this act of generosity he removed the stigma attaching to his colleague and won great glory for himself.

But there was no war with the Tusculans. Unable to resist the attack of Rome by force of arms they turned it aside by a firm and lasting peace.

When the Romans entered their territory, there was no flight of the inhabitants from the places near their line of march, the cultivation of the fields was not interrupted, the gates of the city stood open, and the townsmen in civic attire came in crowds to meet the commanders, whilst provisions for the camp were brought ungrudgingly from town and country.

Camillus fixed his camp in front of the gates and decided to ascertain for himself whether the peaceful aspect which things wore in the country prevailed within the walls as well.

Inside the city he found the doors of the houses standing open and all kinds of things exposed for sale in the stalls; the workmen all busy at their respective tasks and the schools humming with the voices of the children learning to read;

the streets filled with crowds, including women and children going in all directions about their business and wearing an expression free not only from fear but even from surprise.

He looked everywhere in vain for some signs of war; there was not the slightest trace of anything having been removed or brought forward just for the moment; all things looked so calm and peaceful that it seemed hardly possible that the bruit of war could have reached them.

Disarmed by the submissive demeanour of the enemy he gave orders for the senate to be summoned. He then addressed them in the following terms: “Men of Tusculum, you are the only people who have discovered the true weapons, the true strength, with which to protect yourselves from the wrath of Rome.