The Storm Before the Storm

by Michael Duncan

  But when the Assembly once again convened to consider the Lex Agraria, Octavius remained intractable. He vetoed the reading of the bill again and the session descended into a fiery storm of mutual denunciations. Two senators then stepped forward and asked the deadlocked tribunes to put the matter before the Senate. Tiberius still had some hope the Senate might help broker a deal. There was no question that if the Lex Agraria came to a vote, it would pass by an overwhelming margin. When past tribunes had levied vetoes against popular bills, they withdrew it after expressing their symbolic disapproval—but no one had ever permanently defied the people’s will. By the traditional force of mos maiorum, Octavius should allow the vote on the Lex Agraria to proceed. Never before had a tribune so obstinately blocked the clear will of the people. Surely the Senate would induce Octavius to withdraw his opposition.40

  But rather than mediating a fair compromise, the assembled senators took the opportunity to heap abuse on Tiberius—just as they had after the Numantine Affair. There is no record of who said what, but Appian reports that Tiberius was “upbraided by the rich.” Not only did they fail to pressure Octavius into accepting a compromise, they actively joined in the attacks on Tiberius. Senators opposed to the Lex Agraria no doubt railed against the contents of the bill, Tiberius’s political tactics, and probably his personal character. The meeting ended with no resolution to the dilemma and Tiberius himself angrier than ever.41

  Unable to make headway by traditional measures, Tiberius introduced an unprecedented bill at the next scheduled Assembly. Arguing that a tribune who defied the will of the people was no tribune at all, Tiberius moved that the Assembly depose Octavius from office. There was no law that said a tribune could not be deposed from office, but the proposal broke with all mos maiorum. No tribune had ever induced the Assembly to depose a colleague. It was unheard of. But Tiberius had once again packed the Assembly with his supporters, who now ominously surrounded the rostra and dared anyone to stand in their leader’s way.42

  Not wishing to spark a riot, Octavius settled on principled martyrdom, rather than suicidal intransigence, and did not veto the deposition bill. The Assembly was free to depose him if they wished and Tiberius called on the voters to prepare to vote. For the purposes of voting, the Romans were divided into thirty-five tribes that would each receive one collective vote. Individual members of a tribe would file through voting stalls and deposit their ballot in an urn. When they were finished the ballots would be tallied with the majority opinion determining the single collective vote of the whole tribe. Then the process would repeat for the next tribe until a majority of tribes agreed.43

  When the first tribe completed their balloting, the herald announced the result: one vote for depose. Since Tiberius understood that he was suborning an unprecedented attack on a fellow tribune, he halted the proceedings after this first vote and begged Octavius to withdraw his veto. But Octavius refused. The next sixteen tribes deposited their ballots and every single one voted in favor of deposition. On the brink of victory, Tiberius again halted the proceedings and gave Octavius one last chance to stand down. Octavius again refused. The eighteenth tribe then cast their ballots. When they were done, the herald announced that a majority had been reached: Octavius was deposed from office. Stripped of his tribunate, Octavius no longer enjoyed the protections of his office and found himself menaced by the looming mob. He was only able to escape thanks to a group of friends who pushed their way through the crowd and escorted Octavius out of the Assembly.44

  The deposition of Octavius was a decisive turning point in the battle over the Lex Agraria. Until Tiberius took this fateful step, he still enjoyed a great deal of support from his fellow tribunes and senatorial backers. But this reckless assault on a fellow tribune made Tiberius toxic to the naturally conservative elite. His father-in-law Claudius stuck with him but many others who supported the reform in theory were happy to lay the bill aside in the face of relentless opposition, let things cool off, and then try again a year or two later. But Tiberius could not afford to lose. His future career depended on passing the Lex Agraria, so he was willing to go to any lengths to push it through. And for the moment it had worked. Tiberius Gracchus won the battle. With Octavius out of the way, the Assembly overwhelmingly passed the Lex Agraria. The controversial land bill was now law.45

  THE LEX AGRARIA called for a panel of three commissioners to survey the ager publicus, determine ownership, and parcel out land. To make sure the job was done properly (and to monopolize political credit for the distribution of land) Tiberius induced the Assembly to elect Tiberius himself, his father-in-law Claudius, and his twenty-one-year-old brother Gaius to serve as the first three land commissioners. So far so good. But Tiberius soon learned that passing the law and enforcing its provisions were two very different things.46

  Unable to prevent the bill from becoming law, conservatives in the Senate hit back with their own bag of tricks. This opposition was now led by the pontifex maximus Publius Scipio Nasica, who hailed from a more conservative branch of the Scipione clan. Nasica personally possessed far more than five hundred iugera of ager publicus, so he engineered an insulting blow to the new land commission. It was the Senate’s responsibility to appropriate funds to pay for the men and material necessary to complete the surveying work, which required a small army of secretaries, clerks, surveyors, architects, carts, and mules. At Nasica’s urging, the Senate voted a pittance to cover merely the daily expenses of the commissioners themselves. This calculated stinginess left Tiberius the captain of a boat with no oars. It was infuriating but there was nothing he could do about it.47

  Shortly after being dealt this blow, one of Tiberius’s closest supporters suddenly died and foul play was suspected. The increasingly paranoid Tiberius already kept his family surrounded by an informal group of friends and clients who acted as permanent bodyguards—and this protection now seemed more necessary than ever. Whether he was just playing to the crowd or genuinely afraid for his life, Tiberius donned mourning garb and brought his children to the Assembly where he “begged the people to care for them and their mother, saying that he despaired of his own life.”48

  But then fate intervened to alter the course of Roman history—and as will so often be the case, domestic Roman politics were shaped by events far beyond the shores of Italy. In this case the far off event was the death of King Attalus III of Pergamum. Pergamum was a Greek kingdom, occupying what is today the Aegean coast of Turkey, and had been an ally of Rome for close to a century. Since King Attalus III had no sons and believed his death would lead to a bitter power struggle among his potential heirs, he willed his entire kingdom and royal treasury to the people of Rome.49

  Rome learned about Attalus’s death shortly after the passage of the Lex Agraria, and Tiberius was himself among the first to be told of the terms of the will. Tiberius’s father had once served on a senatorial embassy that confirmed the alliance between Rome and Pergamum—and when the envoy bearing King Attalus’s will arrived in Rome, he stayed in the Gracchi home. One step ahead of his enemies, Tiberius convened the Assembly and announced that because Attalus’s will said “Let the Roman people be heir to my estate,” that both the disposal of the royal treasury and subsequent administration of the new province would be handled by the Assembly. Then Tiberius announced that a portion of King Attalus’s royal treasury would be used to fund the work of the land commission and even provide startup capital for the new owners.50

  This bold gambit sent conservatives in the Senate through the roof. By every right of custom the Senate enjoyed full discretion over both state finances and foreign policy. Polybius, a close student of the Republican constitution, said the Senate “has the control of the treasury, all revenue and expenditure being regulated by it,” and “it also occupies itself with the dispatch of all embassies sent to countries outside of Italy for the purpose… of settling differences.” The people, he said, “have nothing to do with it.” By laying claim to Pergamum, Tiberius was attempting to wres
tle both away at the same time. The Senate met in a furious session to denounce Tiberius as a reckless demagogue aiming to make himself a tyrannical despot.51

  Soon after, either to retain the legal immunity his office provided or to protect the integrity of the land commission (or both), Tiberius made another shocking announcement: he was going to run for reelection. No law forbade a tribune from serving consecutive terms, but the overwhelming force of mos maiorum made his bid unprecedented. To his political enemies, this was all iron-clad proof that Tiberius planned to make himself a tyrant. If he controlled the state finances, distribution of property, foreign policy, and claimed the right to permanent reelection, Tiberius Sempronius Gracchus would be the king of Rome in all but name.52

  UNFORTUNATELY FOR TIBERIUS, his political strength was at an all-time low as the summer elections approached in 133. During the battles over the Lex Agraria he had been able to count on a solid block of rural voters to stand with him. Perhaps it was because harvest was then in full swing that Tiberius had difficulty remobilizing his supporters for another contentious vote. Just as likely, however, is that conservatives now decided that Tiberius must be denied reelection at all cost. If they let it be known that they no longer opposed the Lex Agraria and land redistribution would go forward whether Tiberius was tribune or not, the urgency of the coming election would be undercut and many voters would stay home.53

  Without his usual base of supporters, Tiberius turned to the urban population for the votes he needed. Land reform had never been of much interest to the urban plebs, so Tiberius broadened his platform to include further limits on military service, the right to appeal the verdicts of judges, and barring senators from serving on juries. This last drew one of the great political battle lines of the late Republic, though for the moment it was an empty suggestion not yet acted upon.54

  Ever dramatic, Tiberius donned black mourning clothes in the lead-up to the election and again went round with his children securing pledges from his supporters to protect them if something were to happen. The night before the final election, Tiberius slept surrounded by armed bodyguards.55

  Early the next morning, Tiberius’s supporters packed the area near the Temple of Jupiter on the Capitoline Hill to ensure they controlled the voting space. Accompanied by bodyguards, Tiberius himself arrived and was greeted by cheers and applause from the crowd. When opponents of Tiberius arrived, they found themselves unable to push through the pro-Gracchan mob. Prevented from accessing the voting stalls, when the anti-Gracchan voters heard the call for the tribes to begin voting, scuffles erupted on the edge of the crowd as opponents tried to push their way in. The fighting halted the voting.56

  Meanwhile, the Senate convened for a session in the Temple of Fides, located just around the corner on the Capitoline. Rumors swirled that Tiberius had deposed all the other tribunes and was preparing to assume regal powers. The consul presiding over the Senate that morning was none other than Mucius Scaevola—one of the authors of the Lex Agraria. Nasica and the hard-liners in the Senate demanded Scaevola do something, but the consul replied that “he would resort to no violence and would put no citizen to death without a trial; if, however, the people, under persuasion or compulsion from Tiberius, should vote anything that was unlawful, he would not regard this vote as binding.”57

  This was not good enough for the incensed Nasica, who rose in response and said, “Let those who would save our country follow me.” Nasica then donned the formal attire of the pontifex maximus and put himself at the head of a mob of like-minded senators and clients. Together they marched to the Temple of Jupiter. As weapons were not permitted to be carried inside the Pomerium—the sacred city limits—Nasica and his followers armed themselves mostly with table legs and other bludgeons. Though the coming attack was not premeditated, it was clear they were willing to use force to beat back the mob trying to make Tiberius Gracchus king of Rome.58

  Meanwhile, up on the rostra, Tiberius was warned about the approaching mob. Tiberius’s men turned and readied for battle, but hesitated when they saw the mob included senators and was led by the pontifex maximus himself. Though the Gracchans started to give way, Nasica’s men aggressively pushed and beat the crowd anyway. Once the shoving and hitting began, Tiberius’s supporters naturally fought back, leading to a line of clashes throughout the Assembly. The casualties in the resulting mêlée were entirely one-sided—Tiberius’s people were unarmed and made easy targets for Nasica’s gang. Trapped in the confined space in front of the Temple of Jupiter, many people were trampled underfoot or fell to their deaths off the steep cliffs of the Capitoline. When the dust cleared three hundred people lay dead.59

  The principal target of the attack was, of course, Tiberius himself, and it didn’t take long for the reactionary senators to locate their prey. Near the entrance of the Temple of Jupiter, Tiberius tripped over the body of a man who had already fallen and before he could get up, he was set upon by a fellow tribune and a senator. Though he was a tribune and allegedly sacrosanct, these two men proceeded to beat Tiberius Gracchus to death with the legs of a bench. As the historian Appian records: “So perished on the Capitol, and while still tribune, Gracchus, the son of that Gracchus who was twice consul, and of Cornelia, daughter of that Scipio who robbed Carthage of her supremacy. He lost his life in consequence of a most excellent design too violently pursued; and this abominable crime, the first that was perpetrated in the public assembly, was seldom without parallels thereafter from time to time.”60

  IT WAS ONE of the bloodiest days in Roman political history, though Plutarch overstates things when he says, “This is said to have been the first sedition at Rome, since the abolition of royal power, to end in bloodshed and the death of citizens.” But at least in living memory Roman politics had always been waged without resorting to violence. Now hundreds of citizens lay dead on the Capitoline Hill. Whatever one felt about Tiberius Gracchus and his Lex Agraria, it must have been a shocking sight.61

  The principal cause of the crisis of 133 was a dangerous game of mutual brinksmanship. Tiberius had bypassed the Senate, so Octavius vetoed the reading of the bill, so Tiberius shut down all public business. When Octavius remained intractable, Tiberius deposed him from office, so the Senate denied the land commission money to operate, so Tiberius seized the bequeath from Pergamum, and then ran for reelection. All of this culminated with Nasica leading an armed mob to kill three hundred people. In just a few short months, a simple land redistribution bill had escalated to violent massacre.

  The Senate made no apologies for the attack. Tiberius and his dead supporters were denied traditional funeral arrangements and dumped en masse into the Tiber. This was, in itself, a shocking affront to tradition. The Gracchi were still a powerful noble family; denying their son a proper burial was fraught with religious and social implications. But the story was now that Tiberius had been trying to make himself king—the most taboo of political offices. And the Senate determined that they could not afford a funereal becoming a venue for renewing violent revolution.62

  With all the taboos of mos maiorum now breaking down left and right, “this was the beginning in Rome of civil bloodshed, and of the license of the sword.” The definitive triumph of naked force was a lesson no one could unlearn. As the ancient Greek historian Velleius Paterculus later observed: “Precedents do not stop where they begin, but, however narrow the path upon which they enter, they create for themselves a highway whereon they may wander with the utmost latitude… no one thinks a course is base for himself which has proven profitable to others.”63

  CHAPTER 2

  THE STEPCHILDREN OF ROME

  For when those in power act cruelly and wickedly, the character of their subjects is inflamed to reckless action… if they are denied the kindness which they deserve, they revolt against the men who act like cruel despots.

  DIODORUS1

  THE YEAR 132 BC DAWNED WITH THE SENATE READY TO bury the revolution of Tiberius Gracchus. They created a special commission whose purp
ose was to punish those who had supported Tiberius’s illegal bid for monarchy. This commission would be led by the new consuls—Publius Rupilius and Publius Popilius Laenas—who were given the authority to pass capital sentences. But there were questions about the legality of this extraordinary tribunal. According to the ancient Law of the Twelve Tables, “Laws concerning capital punishment of a citizen shall not be passed… except by the Assembly.” Neither the Senate nor the consuls had the right to bring capital charges against citizens on their own authority—but here they were, doing it anyway.2

  The populace was outraged at the brazen flouting of the law and their outrage grew when only lower-class plebs or resident foreigners were targeted for prosecution. The aristocratic senators who had participated in the affair—for example, the authors of the Lex Agraria—were never called to account despite their central role in the crisis. For the next few weeks the common people of Rome lived under the ominous shadow of the tribunal. Men were hauled before the consuls for the most tenuous connection to the Gracchan movement. Some were executed, many more driven into exile.3

  If it was obnoxious to many that no senators were called to account for themselves, it was downright sacrilegious that Scipio Nasica still walked free. Nasica had done nothing less than orchestrate the murder of a sacrosanct tribune. That he had yet faced no consequences was literally a crime against the gods. So Marcus Fulvius Flaccus, a young reformist senator and ally of the Gracchans, announced his intention to bring Nasica to justice. Whatever they thought of Nasica’s conduct, the Senate could not stand by while an angry mob prosecuted the pontifex maximus. Luckily a convenient solution presented itself. With Tiberius dead, the Senate had taken back control of the Kingdom of Pergamum, and they named Nasica to an embassy that would travel to Pergamum, assess the situation, and begin the process of annexation. The pontifex was incensed that he was being shuffled out the back door, but complied with the will of his colleagues. Nasica departed for the east, where he would live just long enough to witness a giant slave revolt before dying bitterly, “without any desire to return to his ungrateful country.”4