in war
against the Republic, and prepared to assist him in order to punish the
ungrateful Romans.

From this dreadful action he was saved by his mother Volumnia. Her
patriotism was truer and more unselfish than his. With his wife and his
young children she came to the camp, clad in the garb of deepest
mourning, dust scattered upon her grey hairs, and went on her knees to
her son to implore him not to dishonour himself by fighting against his
country. At last the true nobleness in the soul of Coriolanus made its
way through the anger and bitterness that had darkened it: he acceded to
Volumnia's prayers, though he well knew what the price for himself would
be. Rome was saved from a great danger, since the city had no general to
equal Coriolanus. He himself, however, was assassinated by the orders of
Aufidius, who soon afterwards was badly defeated in the field.
Coriolanus said to his mother, when she at last persuaded him to yield,
that she had won a noble victory for Rome, but one that was fatal to her
son. He was right. His very words showed that in some part of his mind
he realized how wrong and really unpatriotic his action had been; in
joining with the enemies of Rome he had shown clearly that what he loved
was not his country but his own pride. In the end, thanks to Volumnia,
he bent his head. The lesson to the Romans was a clear one: and in the
years that followed it was not forgotten. Coriolanus was remembered as a
hero, but also as a warning. When real danger threatened Rome the people
stood unshaken from without and from within. In the Roman camp there
were never any traitors.

_The Mother's Appeal_

Distracted by the sight of his mother, Coriolanus leapt wildly
from his seat and was advancing to embrace her when, turning from
supplication to anger, she exclaimed, 'Before I allow your
embrace, let me know whether I have come to an enemy or a son,
whether I am a prisoner or a mother in your camp. Has a long life
and helpless old age brought me to such a pass that I see you,
first as an exile, and afterwards as an enemy? Could you bear to
devastate this land that bore and nurtured you? However hostile
and threatening the spirit in which you came, did not your anger
fail when you crossed its border? When Rome was in sight, did you
not reflect, "Inside those walls are my home and its gods, my
mother, wife, and children?" If I had not been a mother, as it
seems, Rome would not have