Cornelia came to his home the second day of the exhibition. She had so disapproved of his moving to the new home that this was the first time she had been inside the tiny but well kept home. Gaius was sitting in the atrium when Catalda opened the door for Cornelia. He immediately stood, surprised that she should be there at all. Licinia, seven months pregnant, came out of the children’s room on the atrium’s second floor when she heard Gaius greet his mother.
“They had no right to build those scaffolds,” said Gaius as Cornelia reached the atrium.
“And tearing them down only made you look a bigger fool than them.” Licinia later told me it was the first time she had ever heard Cornelia directly insult Gaius. “You have the biggest vote of your career coming up and you’ve disrespected the office of tribune.”
“I didn’t tear the scaffold down for votes, Mother.”
“That’s hard to believe, Gaius. In my mind you’ve become just another politician who buys his votes with favors. The clear sense of your vision for universal citizenship should be enough to carry the vote if the people really want it.” She stalked, a little stiffly, across the atrium and back.
“It will be a close vote, Mother. Very close. What I did last night will help regardless of why I did it, no matter how foolish you think it was.”
“You are a Gracchi,” she said angrily. “If you are so determined to put your life on the line for the sake of the common man then your actions must match your high-minded ideals. I came to Rome this last year to watch how you went about your business—even though I wished, for my own personal reasons, that you were done with this ugliness. I have seen how hard you work and how hard others work against you—using some of the lowest and most despicable tactics imaginable. You must be better than them. I’ve done my best to keep my opinions to myself. But since your return from Africa, I’ve had a harder and harder time staying quiet.”
Licinia listened from the second floor of the atrium. Cornelia was voicing the frustration she had often vented on me. Philocrates had heard the loud exchange and now stood almost out of sight at the edge of the atrium.
“If this is the path you choose, Gaius, it’s better that I support you than ask you to desist, but it’s almost more than I can bear. You have given me good reason to believe that the issue of citizenship is a valid one, and an important one. I felt just as strongly about Tiberius’ land reform. I also recognize that you have come to politics with an even more articulate vision than your brother. I am proud of what you’ve accomplished and what you stand for, but with the removal of the grandstands, I see you losing out to thuggery. I see a man whose emotions are beginning to outrun his reason.” Cornelia noticed Licinia watching from above, then she saw Philocrates partially obscured by the colonnade. She turned to Gaius. “Please, son, if you must break my heart, do it from the highest ground possible.” She took a great breath, embraced Gaius, then walked straight out of the house to her litter and awaiting slaves.
Gaius stared at the atrium floor for a long time. Neither Licinia nor Philocrates moved. When Gaius finally lifted his head, he spoke to his wife. “Please forgive me, Licinia. I know what I’m doing is difficult for everyone.” He looked at Philocrates. “And it will take all of your support to get us through it. Please bear with me.”
CHAPTER 93
Three days before the citizenship vote Fannius ordered all non-Romans out the city. “No non-Roman,” proclaimed Fannius, “shall stay in the city or approach within forty stades of it while the voting is in progress.” This meant that the Latins, albeit with limited voting rights, the people who had the most to gain from the bill, could not take part. Gaius immediately called the law unconstitutional and announced that he would personally protect any Latins who came to Rome to vote. But Gaius had no capacity beyond his clients to protect people coming to Rome. His offer was an empty gesture at best.
The day of the vote the Latins were restricted from the city. But it did not seem to matter because everyone in Rome expected Drusus to veto the bill anyway. The tribes assembled, the auspices were taken, and Fulvius selected the lot to lead the Assembly. Gaius watched from the far left edge of the tribunal, Drusus from the center. When the herald stepped up to the podium with the scroll, no one spoke up to stop him. He read the entire citizenship bill from beginning to end.
The Romilia tribe drew the honor of being first to vote. As a vote on legislature, there was no ballot. The tribal representative would simply call out yes or no. The Romilia elder shouted a firm, “No.” The second tribe reversed that with a yes. As Gaius had known, it would be close. The votes went back and forth almost evenly until the no’s achieved a majority with three tribes yet to vote. It seemed to mark the end of Gaius’ political run. The faction of senators who had worked behind the scenes with Drusus felt confident they had quieted the demagogue for good.
Gaius, however, had his spine up. Two weeks later he announced that he would be a candidate for the tribunate in the next election, one month hence.
CHAPTER 94
Although Gaius had defiantly announced after the defeat of the citizenship bill that he would seek a third tribuneship, as a returning tribune he was not allowed to register as a candidate. Again he would have to rely on write-in ballots.
Licinia, still trying to maintain a stoic face, suffered from the stress. Two weeks after the failed vote, she miscarried what would have been a third son. When Cornelia came to visit Licinia afterward, she confronted Gaius on his decision, repeating many of the same things she had written in her letter prior to his first run for tribune.
“And if you can’t think of me, and the pain you’re putting me through, at least think about your wife and your lost child. Licinia can’t take the pressure. And it’s not out of weakness—it’s out of love for you, just as my grievances are.”
“My work is not done, Mother. Only I can make the decision to go on or not.”
“To that I can’t disagree. It is your decision. However, it’s idiocy to go on. Not only will it damage your relationship with me and place added strain on your marriage, but it will destroy your reputation. Accept that you have had two consecutive terms as a tribune, more than anyone before you, and that the work must be taken up by others. If you must continue in politics, having served as a quaestor, you will be eligible to become a senator in two years. Set your sights on that instead of this headstrong push to seek a third term as tribune.”
Gaius, so used to success, had been piqued badly by the defeats of his second term. He wanted to hear nothing of joining the ranks of the men he had spent his entire political career fighting. “I will let the people decide, Mother. If it will assuage you at all, I will make no further show of my desire for a third term. I won’t speak at the forum, and I’ll refrain from making behind-the-scenes deals, but when the day comes for the vote, if my name is written-in on a majority of the tribal ballots, I will resume my efforts to make Rome stronger.”
And that was how it ended. I sided with both Licinia and Cornelia, but I said nothing, again trusting that my brother had a destiny to fulfill.
While Gaius bided his time waiting for the upcoming election, Claudia Pulcheria, Tiberius’ widow, announced that she had arranged a marriage for herself that would take place in the spring. Marcius Philippus, a conservative senator, would be her future husband. I was happy for her. Cornelia would have preferred she remain unmarried, but she kept her feelings to herself, being far more concerned about Gaius than her daughter-in-law.
During this same period of time, Laelia made her third appearance in court. Rather than file her documents in advance, she waited for a day that Manius Manilius was scheduled to be the judge and there were only two cases on the docket. I did not attend the court that day, but Laelia filled me in on the details afterward.
Manilius had denied Laelia’s earlier petition for divorce because her husband, Quintus Scaevola, was not present in the court. Despite a summons, which the court refused to enforce, and all of Laelia’s efforts, Qui
ntus simply laughed at her attempt to divorce him and on the day the summons was delivered struck her.
On this occasion she tried a different strategy. She sent one of her slaves to the forum to observe the court and notify her when the second trial had begun. While the slave was at the forum, Laelia enticed Quintus into an early cup of wine by surprising him with an amphora of an expensive Falerian red. Quintus had little or no control over his drinking and after one cup, Laelia poured him a second. When the first amphora was empty, Laelia presented a second. After that had been drained, Quintus sought out a third. By the time the slave returned to tell Laelia that the second trial had begun, Quintus lay on a couch in the atrium too drunk to move.
Laelia called for two slaves to carry Quintus from the atrium to a litter waiting outside on the street. Quintus hardly even knew that he had been moved until they arrived at the forum just as the second trial was completed. Before Manilius could gather up his scrolls or disband the jury, Laelia had the litter placed before the table where Manilius sat.
The ex-consul looked up at her. “What do you want?” he growled, clearly not happy to see this woman back in his court.
“Senator, I bring you Quintus Scaevola.” Laelia pulled back the curtains to the litter. “You have told me twice that you would not consider my petition for divorce unless my husband were present. Here he is. Will you now consider granting me a divorce?” She dropped her petition on the table.
Manilius frowned, glanced into the litter where Quintus was nestled with a cup of wine, then narrowing his eyes, turned to the jury and held up his hand to prevent them from leaving.
Manilius did not drink. He felt it weakened a man’s body and mind, and had long spoken out about how much wine Romans consumed, claiming it would bring about the collapse of the Republic. Laelia had done her research and was well aware of all the above.
Manilius motioned to the court orderly. The orderly took hold of Quintus’ arm and pulled him out of the litter and up to his feet.
“Quintus Scaevola,” said Manilius, “your wife has brought you here to obtain a divorce. The court cannot proceed without your permission. What have you to say?”
Quintus, gripping his cup, and barely able to stand upright, eyed Manilius as though he were having trouble seeing. Quintus scrunched up his face, placed a hand on the table to maintain his balance, then muttered, “I could care less what this wench does or where she goes.”
An unimpressed Manilius nodded. “Have you ever struck your wife?”
Quintus chuckled, then grinned. “When she needed it.”
Again Manilius nodded. “Does that often happen when you are drinking wine?”
Quintus looked over his shoulder at the jury, like everyone was in on this great joke. “Invariably.”
Manilius sat back and looked at Laelia, her expression grimly serious. He reviewed Laelia’s petition, making sure it was properly filled out. Only the required signatures of the husband and the judge were missing. He pushed the petition forward and offered Quintus a stylus and ink. “Are you capable of signing your name?”
To Quintus this was a terribly funny question and he laughed drunkenly. “Of course I can. I’m no child.” He bent over the table and hastily scribbled a mark on the document.
Manilius again looked at Laelia. He had no fondness for her, but Quintus’ attitude had enraged him. “My apologies to the jury,” he said, “I mistakenly bid you to stay. A signed petition for divorce needs no opinion from the jury.” He signed the document. “I grant this divorce and give the wife custody of the children.” He gave the petition to Laelia. “File this with the registrar. He will give you the forms necessary to have your dowry returned.” He focused an ugly look at Quintus. “And make sure this man is quickly taken from the court before I find him in contempt.”
Laelia instructed the bearers to help Quintus into the litter and carry him home. The divorce did not include a condemnation of manus, as Laelia had hoped, but it was a step in the right direction and she was free of Quintus.
CHAPTER 95
The Century Assembly gathered on the first day of the elections at Mars Field to vote for the consuls, praetors, and other military officials. Perhaps serving as an insight into the changing atmosphere in Rome, Lucius Opimius, a hardline anti-Gracchi, was elected to one of the consular positions. Quintus Fabius was elected to the other.
The following day the People’s Assembly met at the top of the Capitoline Hill for the election of the ten tribunes. The incumbent tribune Mancius Acilius Glabrio was chosen by lot to preside over the election. Earlier in the year Acilius had worked with Gaius in the sponsorship of a bill to address magistrates taking bribes. Like the Rubrian bill to establish the colony of Junonia, the bill had passed with Acilius’ name on it, not Gaius’. Unfortunately, Acilius was one of the tribunes who had been angered by Gaius’ unilateral decision to tear down the stands for the gladiatorial exhibition.
Gaius’ only hope for a tribuneship was as a write-in. Due to his failed push for expanded citizenship and the year-long dominance of Drusus on the tribunate, his name did not create the same kind of excitement it had the previous year. The faction of senators who had focused so much effort on diminishing Gaius’ popularity had also instructed their various clients to make derogatory statements about Gaius in the forum and at the contiones prior to the election. Surprisingly, however, they did not confront him at the election or stage any kind of protest, leading Gaius to believe he had a reasonable chance to achieve a write-in majority.
When the ballots were collected from the thirty-five tribes, however, Gaius’ name did not appear on a majority of the ballots, while only nine other registered candidates did, meaning there would be a second vote, but Gaius had not made the cut. This seemed impossible to Gaius because his clients had surveyed the tribal elders and felt that despite some loss in support Gaius would be elected. In the aftermath, Fulvius, who was part of the tribunate that day, accused Acilius and the other tribunes of deliberately falsifying the tally to prevent Gaius from receiving another tribuneship.
I know from my discussions with Gaius afterward that he had similar suspicions but had decided to resist Fulvius’ push to claim foul. Instead he accepted the results, mostly due to Cornelia’s request that he take the high road and stay above the fray. I was glad that Gaius listened to Cornelia’s advice, but I also believed that the tribunate had deliberately stood in his way. The events that followed served to support this belief.
CHAPTER 96
When the new year began and the two new consuls were inaugurated and the new tribunate put in place, it became clear that my brother’s enemies were not content to simply push him out of the political arena. They were intent on poisoning his name and all that he had done so that under no circumstances could he be elected to a government position again.
The first action of the new tribunate, a group of men who, in my view, had been bought and sold by the optimates, came from the tribune Minucius Rufus. He proposed a repeal of the Rubrian Law, which would curtail all efforts to establish Junonia as a Roman colony. Those in power chose to do this primarily out of spite, knowing it would infuriate Gaius who had spent two hard months in Africa to ensure the colony’s success. Rufus’ reasons for the repeal were the incidents that had occurred during the religious ceremonies in the first days of Junonia’s founding. The ensign falling to the ground and breaking, the carcasses blown off the sacrificial altar, and the rumor that wolves had taken the boundary stones were once again characterized as fulfillment of Aemilianus’ curse against Carthage, and signs from the gods that the colony should never have been placed there in the first place.
Gaius came to my house to talk to Cornelia the day he learned of Rufus’ proposal. Since Gaius’ failure to be elected to a third tribuneship, the tension in our family had greatly diminished. Licinia was happily under the impression that Gaius’ involvement in politics was over, and Gaius had made several efforts to reestablish his rocky relationship with Cornelia, wh
o planned to return to Misenum in two weeks.
I joined Cornelia and Gaius in the library when Nadia told me of his arrival. The discussion began with Gaius venting his frustration over Rufus’ proposal and admitting he held no official position that would allow him to stop the repeal. Yes, he still served on the land commission, and there were plenty of projects he had already set in motion that needed his supervision, including building roads and granaries, but this did not give him any power to confront the actions of the Senate or the People’s Assembly. “What should I do?” he asked Cornelia outright.
Cornelia felt the insult just as surely as Gaius did, but she urged caution. “Be aware that this repeal was likely instigated to draw you into a conflict and further deprecate your reputation. Say what you must during the period of contiones and leave it at that. There must be a time when you accept that you are no longer the most influential man in Rome—and that’s not such a bad thing.”
“I’m inclined to agree with Mother, Gaius,” I said. “Maybe your time is up.”
“If I believed my time were up, I would accept it,” Gaius snapped. “But I don’t, and the way they pushed me out is almost as disturbing as what they are trying to do now. Yes, we lost an ensign, and the sacrifices went poorly, but they’ve added fabrications to circumstances that were already exaggerated. This thing about the wolves and the boundary stones is ludicrous. Whoever saw a wolf carrying a large stone in its mouth? I hate to see the populace so badly led astray and lied to. That’s a bigger issue than my prestige.”
“Let it go, Gaius,” said Cornelia. “It’s sad and disappointing, but you won’t win against these people. The tribunate has become a collection of puppets, and the Senate holds the strings. For all the work you accomplished as a tribune, for all that you did to strengthen the people’s position in the government, the optimates still use their money and influence to get what they want. It’s time to let someone else do this ultimately very frustrating work.”
Cornelia- the First Woman of Rome Page 33