Cornelia- the First Woman of Rome Read online

  Many of those standing around the perimeter cheered at Appius’ words. Publius Nasica shouted a response without being recognized. “Who needs a reason to fight for the greatest nation in the world? Simply wearing the uniform of a Roman legionnaire is an honor for any man.”

  A chorus of support sounded from a majority of the senators.

  “Then why are we so short of soldiers?” shouted Publius Crassus.

  Publius Nasica ignored the question. “I propose the Senate rebuke this bill.”

  Several of the senators called out for a vote on the pontiff’s proposal. Tiberius did not stay around to watch his opponents celebrate their victory. He used his left arm to wrap his toga around his body and strode from the Curia, followed by Blossius, Diophanes, and his ten clients.

  Octavius knew that Tiberius was preparing to reconvene the People’s Assembly at noon. He conferred with Publius Nasica and then headed to the top of the Capitoline Hill with a small protective body of clients.

  CHAPTER 24

  Tiberius and his entourage went to Cornelia’s house to talk over their strategy before going to the Assembly. His little cluster of clients, led by his close associate Quintus Mummius, waited on the street, acting as guards as much as political allies.

  Cornelia was working in the garden when they came in. Claudia was with her. She had been too nervous about the discussion at the Senate to stay home alone. Ada and the children were there also.

  Tiberius, Blossius, and Diophanes thundered into the atrium as Cornelia came out of the peristyle wearing a pair of goatskin gloves. She held a small spade in her right hand and a spot of dirt showed on her stola where she had been kneeling. Claudia trailed behind, fearful of what Tiberius’ stormy arrival meant.

  “It didn’t go well, Mother,” said Tiberius as he embraced Claudia. “The Senate recommended no vote at all. I’m not sure what we’re going to do, but we need to think of something fast. People are assembling in their tribes on the Capitoline Hill as we speak.”

  Blossius had already gone to find an amphora of wine, though he hardly had time to drink more than a few sips.

  “Are you sure it makes sense to force your law through now?” asked Claudia. “What about waiting a few months and trying it again?”

  Tiberius shook his head. “I have one year to pass this law and put it into action. If it’s not now, it’s not at all.”

  Claudia’s eyes reflected not at all.

  “I’ve thought of something,” said Cornelia as Blossius returned with an amphora in one hand and a cup in the other. They gathered in the atrium beneath a slate gray sky. “Aemilianus established a precedent several years ago for a tribune giving up his position. If I’m not mistaken, it’s usually by the tribune’s own choosing, but maybe Octavius could be pressured. If the people vote the tribunes in, wouldn’t it be possible that they could vote one out?”

  The men looked at each other. Blossius spoke. “Yes, Cornelia. I think that could be done.”

  “On what grounds?” asked Tiberius.

  Diophanes put a hand of Tiberius’ shoulder. “Dereliction of duty. Octavius is not doing his job. That’s what we heard loud and clear two days ago in his defense of the veto. Every reason he offered spoke to the needs of the aristocracy. But his duty is to serve the people. You’d have no trouble getting your assembly to back you on that. You saw how angry they were that the vote didn’t take place. Let them vote him out, then proceed with your law.”

  Cornelia nodded. “But it would be best if he simply rescinded his veto because of the threat of such a move—so that maybe his banishment wouldn’t come to a vote. Octavius is not a bad man. I don’t know the depth of his relationship with my nephew and his friends, but when you show him that he has no choice, he can salvage some of his respect by accepting what we are all so certain is a promising law.”

  “I think you’ve given us some hope, Mother—at least a plan. Thank you. We’ll soon find out if it works.” Tiberius looked at Blossius and Diophanes. “We should leave.” Tiberius gave Claudia a brief embrace, then Cornelia. The three men joined Tiberius’ clients on the street and headed directly to the top of the Capitoline Hill.

  CHAPTER 25

  The scene that had unfolded before repeated itself. The ten tribunes took their place on the tribunal. A very agitated and rowdy thirty thousand plebs were roughly assembled in their tribes, waiting for something to happen. Tiberius asked the herald to read the law. As soon as he opened the scroll, Octavius halted him by enacting his veto. The whole place hushed as Tiberius strode across the platform to confront him. Tiberius’ ten clients had collected at the bottom of the tribunal stairs, angrily glaring at Octavius with unstated threats. It was all far beyond the norm.

  “Octavius,” said Tiberius, only loud enough for those on the tribunal to hear. “I am your friend. We have argued here on this stage twice now. Nothing I have ever done has been harder on me than confronting you on this piece of legislation. Please reconsider.”

  Octavius heard the sincerity in Tiberius’ voice. He hung his head, struggling badly with his conscience, but finally said, “No, Tiberius. I won’t allow this bill to be voted on.”

  Tiberius took a breath to contain his emotions. “I’m going to ask the Assembly to remove you, Octavius. It can be done with a single vote. And you know as well as I do what the outcome will be. The Assembly is not happy with what you’re doing. Once you’re voted out, we will vote on the law. Your position is hopeless, but you can save us all a lot of trouble, and your own reputation, by lifting your veto.”

  Octavius simply shook his head no.

  “Very well.” Tiberius turned to his fellow tribunes. He had already informed them of his intentions. They looked around uneasily, but no one stepped forward to question him. Tiberius went to the podium to address the Assembly. He explained all of the same things that he had to Octavius, emphasizing the position Octavius had defended at the previous meeting. “A tribune’s job is to represent the plebeians not the patricians,” he concluded. “I propose a vote to dismiss Marcus Octavius from the tribunate for dereliction of duty. Please discuss this among your tribal members. The question is a simple yes or no. Octavius is dismissed from the tribunate or not. Draw lots to determine who votes first and then prepare your ballot as soon as you can. We hope to have a second vote—on the land reform bill—pending the outcome of this one.”

  Tiberius returned to the cluster of tribunes. No one said a word to him. They knew this had never been done before. They were tense and uncomfortable, but also unwilling to confront the man who had taken control.

  Publius Nasica, Titus Annis, and Quintus Pompeius were watching from the wings. They had left the Senate confident they had stopped Tiberius. Now they stood there awestruck, visibly angered by Tiberius’ tactics. Publius Nasica approached the tribunal with a cluster of his clients and called up to Octavius. “Don’t worry. This is illegal. The Senate will annul the vote.”

  Octavius looked lost. He only nodded.

  When the tribes signaled that they were ready, Tiberius instructed the herald to take the vote. The Aemilia tribe had the privilege of voting first. One of their tribal elders stepped forward. “Yes, dismiss the tribune.”

  There were thirty-five tribes. It took a simple majority of eighteen to carry a vote. The first seventeen tribes voted to dismiss. At this point, Tiberius again came up close to Octavius, and in a soft voice, filled with feeling, begged him to rescind his veto and save himself the embarrassment. Octavius seemed to melt under the pressure. He turned to his handlers, now standing some distance off, as though seeking their permission. No sign was given. Octavius faced Tiberius. The entire Assembly went silent, certain he was going to acquiesce, only to hear Octavius say no once more.

  Tiberius was now badly shaken. He, like Cornelia, had anticipated that Octavius would yield. He would get no pleasure from removing Octavius, or really any man, from the tribunate. Tears accumulated in his eyes. He embraced Octavius as a friend and whispered in hi
s ear, “Please, Octavius, don’t make me do this. I simply don’t understand why you must resist.”

  Octavius pulled away from Tiberius. Tiberius shook his head in frustration, then nodded to the herald. The herald called for the next tribe to vote. It was another yes. Octavius’ fate was sealed, but he still refused to leave the stage. Tiberius motioned to the group of his clients beside the platform. Mummius led them up onto the stage. They took hold of Octavius by the arms and forced him off the tribunal. Octavius’ slave came out of the crowd to help his master. He was easily pushed aside, but he continued to come at the cluster of clients. In the tumult he was poked in the eye. He fell to the ground, covering the bleeding eye socket with his hands, as Octavius was pushed and shoved past the cluster of senators down the hill away from the Assembly.

  Once the eighteenth yes was recorded, the vote was over. The other tribes were not asked for their position. The herald announced the result as unanimous. Tiberius then told him to read the bill. No one stopped the herald this time. He read the entire text of Tiberius’ land reform bill, then requested a vote. The tribes had discussed this vote weeks before. They needed no time to prepare. The Horatia tribe was called on first. Again the question required either a yes or a no. The first eighteen tribes voted yes. Again a unanimous result. No one had doubted that it would go any other way. Thirty thousand plebeians erupted in celebration. It was a great day for the common man and a great day for Tiberius Gracchus.

  Before ending the meeting, Tiberius requested that the Assembly vote on a replacement for Octavius. He suggested Quintus Mummius, and the enthusiastic Assembly quickly accepted Tiberius’ nominee. That Mummius was one of Tiberius’ clients only further infuriated the senators who were still there to watch. Publius Nasica abruptly swirled his toga around his body and led the others away from the Assembly. Their heated talk was not about the passage of the law, but the power that Tiberius had acquired by legislating such a popular law. “He’s a dangerous man,” growled the pontifex maximus. “A man who has to be dealt with before he gains any more influence.”

  After the crowd had dispersed, Tiberius, elated at finally getting the law approved, but exhausted by a day full of turmoil, clomped down the tribunal stairs into the arms of Blossius, then Diophanes, then faced the growing mass of men who wanted to congratulate him. He had done it. Not without pain. Not without tears. But he had done it. Land reform was on the books. There was no way the Senate could annul it. Tiberius turned to the temple behind him, and the statue of the God of Light inside, sitting on a gilded throne. “Thank you for the strength, Jupiter,” he whispered under his breath. “Thank you for the strength.”

  CHAPTER 26

  Tiberius, the unofficial leader of a very reluctant and somewhat divided tribunate, called for the convening of the People’s Assembly a week later to elect the three commissioners who would oversee the process of redistributing the land. No one in Rome was more popular among the plebeians by a long measure than Tiberius. When he proposed that he head the commission and that his father-in-law Appius Claudius and his brother Gaius, still in Spain and only eighteen, be his aides, the Assembly quickly voted to accept them all.

  The core group of opposing senators watched the proceedings from afar. Already concerned about Tiberius’ growing power, they were further outraged by Tiberius’ stacking the commission with members of his own family. The ex-consul Titus Annius, standing with Publius Nasica and Quintus Pompeius, and wearing a yellow wig on this occasion, could not restrain himself. He advanced to the front of the tribunal and shouted at Tiberius. “Your vote to remove Octavius was illegal. Expect to be prosecuted when your term as tribune is over.”

  Those plebeians close enough to hear Annius told him in the roughest way that a patrician was not welcome at a gathering of plebeians, but Tiberius, invigorated by the day’s vote, felt compelled to defend his actions. He came to the front of the tribunal to respond to Annius’ charge. “I’m afraid your threat is an empty one, Senator. I have done nothing illegal.”

  Although surrounded by angry plebeians, Annius glared at Tiberius. “Then answer this question,” he demanded. “Suppose you propose to disgrace me, and I appeal for protection from one of your colleagues on the tribunate. If he comes to my assistance, and you get angry, will you have him deposed?”

  The question quieted the rowdy crowd and caused Tiberius to hesitate before saying anything. It was a trick question, designed to force Tiberius into defending something that was quite different than the action he had pursued—and more like what Appius’ daughter had done when the tribune had tried to halt her father’s triumph.

  Annius stared up at Tiberius, thinking he had him. The plebeians around him seemed confused by the question and looked to Tiberius to provide an answer.

  Tiberius paced across the stage several times, collecting his thoughts, knowing if he did not speak accurately, his words could be misconstrued or even used against him. Finally, he stopped and stood at the podium to address Annius, the assembled plebeians, and the senators still standing some distance away.

  “Yes, Senator, a tribune does have the authority to protect a citizen from a magistrate, and it would be improper for another tribune to demand that tribune’s expulsion for doing so. But that’s different than what happened here a week ago. A tribune of the plebs is sacred and inviolable, but only if the tribune does the job he was elected to perform—which is represent the will of the common man. If a tribune’s actions lead to measures that oppress the people, abridge their powers, or take away their liberty or their ability to vote, then he no longer deserves the honor bestowed upon him. Octavius was protecting the interests of the aristocracy and working against the interests of the common citizen. He was not providing the service he was elected to perform; so he lost the right to serve.”

  “But you said it yourself, the tribune is sacrosanct,” shouted back Annius. “He cannot be removed from office.”

  “Untrue, Senator. Are not the Vestal Virgins also sacrosanct? And can they not be executed, nay buried alive, for allowing the sacred flame to go out or breaking their vow of chastity? It’s happened several times in our history. The instance of Octavius is no different. He violated his duties, and if the people can vote a man into office, then they can surely vote him out.”

  The Assembly agreed with Tiberius and responded by chanting his name and peppering Annius with insults. The senator turned away abruptly, causing his wig to twist to the left, then pushed through the crowd back to his associates, who again furious at what they had seen, left the grounds grumbling about Tiberius’ demagoguery.

  CHAPTER 27

  Following the successful though controversial passage of the land reform bill and the equally controversial filling of the three-man commission with members of Tiberius’ family, the Roman Senate showed their dissatisfaction by providing an allowance of only one and a half denarii a day for the administration of the law. This was equivalent to the daily pay of a single unskilled laborer. It was a clear insult to Tiberius and his commission. When he asked for extra funds to provide for a tent when the commission traveled through Italy to evaluate the land, he was turned down. The commissioners would, in effect, pay their expenses out of their own pockets and receive no compensation.

  Tiberius was infuriated. As far as I could tell my dear brother’s entry into politics was changing him from one of the most reasonable and thoughtful people I had ever met into an emotional and reactionary politician. Though his exceptional personal attributes never really changed around me or his family, the pressure he was under was obvious and, though he tried to hide it, painful to watch.

  Tiberius’ wife Claudia was so distraught she came to talk to Cornelia one afternoon. I happened to be there. Cornelia had her loom set up in the atrium and was weaving, something she loved to do and was very good at.

  As I have said, Claudia was the least political of all the women in our family. Part of it was her natural inclination to keep her thoughts to herself, and part of it w
as that she had a five-year-old son and a two-year-old daughter to care for. Despite her education and wider sense of the world, Claudia was a more typical Roman woman than either Cornelia or I. She was a very pretty woman, and when she came to the house that day with her children, she wore a lovely pale green stola, gathered at the waist with a matching sash, and a similarly matching palla that covered her head. Beneath, her hair was a dark red and held loosely behind her head within a white, knitted hairnet.

  Upon entering the house, she dispatched the children with Ava, then joined Cornelia and me in the atrium. She removed the palla from her head, draped it over her shoulders, and began to cry.

  Cornelia immediately stood to embrace Claudia. She held her long enough for Claudia to gather herself and sit down on a bench adjacent to mine. Cornelia sat beside her.

  “I’m worried about Tiberius,” she said—something already very obvious. “I know his intentions are pure, but the political process seems to be taking hold of him. I don’t know when you last talked to him, but his latest move, which I believe he’s announcing to the Senate as we speak, involves shutting down the treasury until the Senate gives his commission more funds to work with. I think he’s going too far.”

  “I hadn’t heard that, Claudia.” Cornelia looked at me.

  “I hadn’t either.”

  “Blossius and Diophanes were at our home yesterday. One of them made the suggestion. Tiberius didn’t sleep at all last night thinking about it. He left the house this morning before dawn. I only had enough time to ask him where he was going. Halfway out the door, he answered, ‘To the temple of Saturn to place my seal on the doors.’ I shouted back that I didn’t think it was right, but he paid me no mind.” Claudia heaved with emotion. “I’m more concerned about his safety now than when he was in Spain.” Tears were running from her eyes again. “Am I being silly?” she choked out.