Cornelia- the First Woman of Rome

by Dan Armstrong

  Cornelia spoke up. “Can your brother be of any help?” She was referring to the co-consul Mucius Scaevola.

  Crassus took a deep breath. “He was highly supportive of Tiberius until this business of the inheritance. I don’t think Mucius will move against him, but I don’t expect him to intervene on his behalf.”

  “I’m afraid the same could be said of Aemilianus,” I added.

  “What kind of punishment could he face?” asked Crassus’ wife.

  Crassus tilted his head. “It’s hard to say. He’s made a lot of enemies. With Pompeius spreading the rumor that Tiberius seeks to be king, it’s possible he could be exiled.”

  “But that’s absurd,” snapped Cornelia. “Tiberius has absolutely no interest in being king. Pompeius’ slave must have seen Physcon in the purple robe and crown, not Tiberius. If there’s anything I feel sure of, it’s Tiberius’ good intentions.”

  “But you must admit, Mother,” I interjected, “he’s changing. The move to take over management of Attalus’ land was unnecessary—and uncharacteristic. It was like jabbing a viper with a stick. Am I wrong in this, Crassus?”

  Crassus took a sip from his cup. He looked at me then Claudia. “I think Tiberius began with pure intentions. I have no doubt about that, but he’s discovered the meaning of power. He controls the tribunate through the mere force of his will, and the People’s Assembly believes he’s their savior. They’ll do anything for him, and I agree, his last move was a deliberate show of power, probably prompted by your father, Claudia.”

  If anything Claudia was now more worried about Tiberius than when she arrived. “Is there any way to use the People’s Assembly to protect him from exile?”

  Crassus nodded slowly. “He could ask them to grant him a second term as tribune.”

  “But how would that help?” I asked

  “Isn’t that just getting in deeper?” followed Claudia.

  “He would retain the protection of the office. They couldn’t press charges against him.”

  “Only for another year,” said Crassus’ wife. “Then it would come up again.”

  “To my knowledge,” said Cornelia, “consecutive terms as a tribune have never happened before. I’m not even sure it’s legal.”

  “Much like the expulsion of Octavius, it’s new ground,” said Crassus. “It’s something Blossius brought up the last time I saw him. He hasn’t had a chance to mention it to Tiberius yet. I should run it by my brother—but I think it’s a strategy we might want to keep under wraps for now.”

  The stew was only getting thicker. Claudia hung her head. Cornelia, who sat beside her, put an arm around her.

  When the evening drew to a close and I walked my guests to the door, thirteen-year-old Licinia, who had hardly said a word all night, hung back and asked me in a whisper, “When do you expect Aemilianus to return from Spain?”

  “At the end of the summer. Maybe early fall. Why?”

  She looked at the floor then up at me. “Gaius would be back also.”

  I smiled. “When’s the marriage?”

  “The spring.”

  “Are you excited?”

  She blushed. “Yes, I think I have been fortunate.”

  “I think you both have.”

  CHAPTER 31

  Appius and Tiberius returned in early fall, two months before the next election. Tiberius’ tribuneship was nearly over, and his friends reminded him of Pompeius’ vow to indict him for overstepping the limits of his office. Blossius told Tiberius to seek a second term. Tiberius resisted the idea at first, then spoke to Crassus to get his opinion. Crassus initially told him that it was impossible, then later, after more thought and research, softened his opinion. Rome’s constitution was not written as a single piece. It was based on an oral tradition and the collection of laws that had been passed during the four hundred years of the Republic’s existence.

  “Nowhere is it explicitly stated,” said Crassus, “that a tribune can not serve consecutive terms. But it’s never happened. There seems to be an unspoken rule against it, and yet there’s no formal law forbidding it. Much like your removal of Octavius, it’s a gray area with no clear precedent either way. There’s a law against running for a consulship in consecutive years, but that law has been broken several times, as recently as the war with Hannibal. Considering the threats against you, Tiberius, I see no reason not to give it a try.”

  Tiberius gathered his closest advisors—Blossius, Appius, Diophanes—in the library of my mother’s home to make a final decision. Cornelia, of course, joined them. She listened to the entire discussion without saying a word. She tended to give everyone a chance to make their point before offering her opinion.

  When the men, including Tiberius, agreed on the strategy of seeking a second term, Cornelia voiced her thoughts. “I’m not so sure about this. The risks are awfully high. Tiberius has already pushed his tribuneship to the edge of legality. Nearly the entire Senate is furious at him. They’ll use this attempt for a second tribuneship as more evidence of his will to power and his desire for a crown. Even should he string together a series of tribuneships for his own protection—how long can that go on? I’m worried for his safety. I have never witnessed more ugliness in our political discourse. Never!”

  “I don’t see the risk,” said Blossius. “He already faces exile. What more could they do to him? There is no reason not to test the system.”

  “Yes, Mother, I agree,” said Tiberius. “My travels this summer have inspired ideas for new bills. I want to run. I still have things I want to accomplish.”

  “And should you be exiled, where would you go? What would you do with your family?”

  Tiberius had no answer. He stalked across the room twice then stopped. “I don’t think the Senate can stop me. I have the full support of the Assembly. The work this summer went well. The people are pleased. I can make this happen. It’s what I want to do—risk or not.”

  Cornelia paused to think, then asked her son with all the gravitas of her far-reaching wisdom, “For what reason are you doing this, Tiberius? Some have suggested that you have become drunk with power. Who is this for—you or the people?”

  Tiberius was taken aback by the question, as though there could be no doubt about his answer. “What, Mother, have you been listening to Pompeius, too?”

  “I have heard him,” she said. “As has everyone in Rome. But I’m asking you for your own good. I’m asking you to look at yourself in the mirror. Determine your motives. Figure out what it is that inspires you. I believe your intentions are pure and that they follow in the populist tradition of our family. But I also know that power, the kind of power you have already achieved, can test the strongest man’s mettle. As the opposition ratchets up, you will be forced to do the same. I just want you to tell me that you know why you’re doing it.”

  Tiberius’ hackles rose again, but before he could respond, Blossius interceded. “Cornelia’s right, Tiberius. Whatever the reason, for the power, for the people, or simply to avoid being exiled, the reformer must know who he is and why he’s doing what he does or it will swallow him up.”

  Diophanes gave the slightest nod of agreement. Tiberius turned to Appius. The senator grinned. “I think Tiberius knows exactly who he is. Let’s write a platform that assures him of election.”

  “Yes,” said Tiberius. “Yes.” He went over to Cornelia, who was seated, and put his hand on her shoulder. “I believe in what I’m doing, Mother. And I know that it’s for Rome and its people, not for me. I have seen—no experienced—what pressure can make a man do. I would never have thought to force a tribune from the tribunate, especially Octavius, nor could I have imagined usurping matters of foreign policy from the Senate. You’re right. I have significant power, and it’s intoxicating. But I must learn to be circumspect in its use, and I believe that I can.”

  Cornelia put her hand on top of his and looked up at him. “I have every faith in you son. I do.”

  The rest of the afternoon was used to
write a platform tailored to build upon Tiberius’ already extensive work. It contained four key proposals. The first would shorten the required length of military service. Long terms in the military, particularly foreign campaigns that might stretch out to two or three years, had been a grievance since the war with Hannibal and made running a farm impossible for a soldier. It was a certain winner among the populace. The second proposal would allow decisions by the high court to be appealed to the People’s Assembly, another clear plebeian need, meaning that even if Tiberius were exiled, he could appeal to the people for exoneration. The third addressed the courts. At that time the courts were made up of judges and jurors entirely from the senatorial class. This law would integrate the courts with jurors from the equestrian class, which would appeal to an order of Romans whose needs Tiberius had yet to address. The fourth proposal would extend Roman citizenship to the whole of Italy, not simply the people of Rome and other Latins. Tiberius’ land reform had already drawn the support of the rural population, but with this provision it would reach even further, potentially doubling or quadrupling his base of support.

  In the weeks prior to the election, Tiberius went to the streets nailing up tracts describing these proposals, then to the forum to announce his candidacy for a second term. The senatorial class, especially the optimates, those who thought of the aristocracy as the chosen, considered Tiberius’ proposals blatant pandering to the populace, and his running for a second term even worse. In their minds, Tiberius was positioning himself to take full control of politics in Rome. He wanted a crown. The battle lines were drawn and an outcome would be decided at the People’s Assembly on election day.

  CHAPTER 32

  As the day of the election neared, the optimates became increasingly determined not to allow Tiberius a second tribuneship and thereby escape punishment for the crimes they alleged. A group led by Publius Nasica and Quintus Pompeius used their wealth to prompt several men to run against Tiberius, much as they had done with Octavius the previous year. They also paid plebeians who were or had once been their clients to vote against him.

  Knowing this was happening behind the scenes, and fearful he might lose, Tiberius spent the last few days before the election going out into the rural areas, pleading with the farmers to come into Rome to vote. The day before the election, he walked through Subura, one of the poorest parts of Rome, talking personally with as many of Rome’s less fortunate as he could, recounting what he intended to do for them as a tribune, and reminding them that he needed the position for protection from indictment.

  The plebs began assembling to vote shortly before dawn on the top of the Capitoline Hill. It was early December. Brisk winds swirled across the hilltop, and each tribe huddled together wearing wool cloaks over their togas and tunics. All knew the situation. Tiberius was again challenging the status quo, hoping to be elected to an unprecedented second term as a tribune. Twenty-five men were among the candidates. Ten of them would be chosen. One estimate said that more than half of the candidates were on the payroll of the large landholders.

  Rubrius Varro was chosen by lot to preside over the election. He supervised the sacrifice and the feeding of the chickens. No untoward omen was in the forecast. Rubrius reviewed the process of voting and named the twenty-five candidates. The rural tribe Terentina was chosen to make the first ten nominations. When Tiberius’ name was read from their ballot, Quintus Pompeius, standing off to the left of the tribunal in anticipation of this moment, and surrounded by ten other senators and their clients, shouted, “The nomination of Tiberius Gracchus is illegal. No man can be tribune in consecutive years.”

  Quintus Metellus followed. “Tiberius’ nomination must be struck from the record.”

  The Assembly reacted angrily. Tiberius was their favorite. Most of them were there to ensure that he was elected. Rubrius looked around nervously, not certain what to do. The herald waited for instruction. Seeing that Rubrius had been intimidated by the presence of the senators, Quintus Mummius stepped forward, telling the herald to continue with the roll call.

  Publius Nasica shouted from the edge of the crowd, “Tribune, you risk angering the gods. The substitute for Rubrius must be chosen by lot.”

  The entire tribunate knew this was true, and the proceedings began to break down. The tribunes argued among themselves, not only about the choice of who should preside, but also about the legality of Tiberius’ second term. Six of them felt that Tiberius should withdraw his candidacy. While they struggled for unity, Publius Nasica and Quintus Pompeius moved up close to the tribunal, threatening criminal charges against all of them for disregard of the religious rituals. At the same time some thirty thousand Roman citizens stomped and shouted. They wanted to vote and get it over with.

  In the confusion, the tribunes were unable to make a decision. They decided to adjourn and meet again the next day at dawn. Tiberius was certain the cause was lost. He was so disconsolate he walked through the forum that afternoon dressed in black, holding his son’s and daughter’s hands, asking people he knew if they would look after his children after his exile.

  His clients, of whom there were a growing number, were so concerned for his safety that they went home with him that evening and set up tents around his house to protect him from any threat that might come during the night. That was how tense Rome had become. The issue of the second term was being called illegal by some of the most powerful men in Rome, but neither Appius nor Crassus could find any precedent against it. They advised Tiberius to continue as planned the next morning.

  CHAPTER 33

  Wearing a hooded, bleached wool cloak, Cornelia slipped out of her house after nightfall accompanied by Coson and followed a little-used alley that led to the rear of Tiberius’ home. When she reached the perimeter of tents, she was immediately recognized, even with her hood. One of the clients escorted her and Coson through the back of the property into the peristyle. She continued on alone into the house. Only one room off the atrium was lit. Tiberius sat alone in the library, his elbows on the table, his head in his hands. He looked up with a startled, disjointed expression on his face when Cornelia appeared in the doorway, then he smiled and stood up.

  “I’m not quite so downcast as I may appear, Mother. But nothing is better than seeing you. I threw Blossius out an hour ago. He was drunk and I refused to drink with him.”

  “How’s Claudia?”

  Tiberius’ smile washed away. “Anxious beyond words. She’s upstairs trying to sleep.” He embraced Cornelia and held on. “She hates this. I know she wants me to give it up. But she won’t say it. I admire her for that. The gods graced me when they matched me with Claudia.” Tiberius released his mother. “But why are you here?”

  Cornelia smiled. “Do I have to tell you?” She leaned into him and kissed him on the cheek. “You are my oldest son. You are the perfect replica of your father. What you are doing is what he would be doing if he were here tonight. I’m here to tell you that I am proud of you.”

  Tiberius bowed his head.

  “That doesn’t mean I’m not worried about tomorrow. It means I believe in you and who you are. And I felt I needed to tell you that before you face the Assembly in the morning. You have chosen a good fight, but a hard fight. I’ve never seen Rome so divided, but like you, I believe all of this is necessary.”

  Tiberius touched his mother on the shoulder and gazed at her in admiration. “Thank you for saying that, Mother.”

  “Are you still up, Tiberius?” Claudia stood in the doorway. She wore a nightgown and was barefoot. “Cornelia, what are you doing here?”

  “I thought Tiberius might need some reassurance.”

  Claudia gazed at her husband. “I think I do, too. What’s going to happen tomorrow?”

  “Tiberius is going to test the law. How that will go? I don’t know. Your father likes his chances.”

  “What about violence? That’s what frightens me. Having all these men camped around our house has me on edge. It’s as though everyone is ex
pecting something bad. Do you?”

  Cornelia looked at Tiberius for a long time before turning to Claudia. “Politics in Rome has never succumbed to violence. I don’t know why it would now. Clearly there are no guarantees, but one thing I do know, if Tiberius isn’t elected to the tribunate tomorrow, he faces indictment and perhaps charges of treason as soon as his current term ends. The Senate will not be kind to him.”

  Claudia gazed momentarily at the floor, then up at Cornelia. “So you’re saying there’s nothing to lose by trying?”

  “And everything to lose if I don’t,” said Tiberius. “It has to be. Mother, go home. Claudia, go back to bed. I’ll be up as soon as I think I can sleep.”

  CHAPTER 34

  Tiberius did finally go to bed, but he was up before dawn to make a sacrifice to the lares, then he met briefly in the library with Blossius, Diophanes, and Quintus Mummius, the only tribune who still showed full confidence in what he was doing. A single oil lamp burned in the otherwise dark household while they talked. For once Blossius did not have a cup of wine.

  “Large clusters of senatorial landowners and their clients have been at every Assembly,” said Diophanes. “I expect the same today. They might try to stop the meeting or intimidate the other tribunes. We’ll have to push through that.”

  Blossius agreed. “Mummius, you will have to help Tiberius with the other tribunes. Prompt whoever presides to go quickly. Once Tiberius has been assured of a position on the tribunate no one can touch him.”