The Rise of Rome (Penguin Classics)

  Plainly, then, Publicola was only one of many heroes of the early republic, and hardly its most eminent figure. That, surely, was Brutus, the striking fluctuations of whose career, in combination with the man’s fierce severity in service to Rome, ought to have made for a fascinating, even exciting, and yet satisfactorily moralizing read. Publicola’s Life, by contrast, while not short of adventure and accomplishment, is marked by numerous chapters in which its hero vanishes from the scene or is only obliquely connected to it. Put differently, there is room in Publicola’s Life for the achievements of others. And that, of course, is part of its point.

  Publicola was consul in 509 BC, including a brief period in which he was sole consul. He was again consul in 508, 507 and 504. He was credited with two triumphs but was equally celebrated for negotiating a peace with Lars Porsenna, the king of Clusium, which brought to an end Tarquinius’ attempts at rousing the Etruscans in support of his restoration to the Roman throne. It was also he, in this Life at least, who succeeded in bringing to Rome one of its most brilliant families, the Claudians. Publicola was especially remembered as a legislator who made the new order agreeable to the Roman people by establishing enduring popular rights, which is why Plutarch matches him with the iconic Athenian legislator Solon (c. 638–558 BC). In their pairing, each exhibits a genius for resolving dangerous social conflicts, which for Plutarch represents the highest form of political skill.

  Reconciling others came naturally to Publicola, and early in his Life he displays, even during Tarquinius’ tyranny, boldness in defence of justice, evidence for Plutarch that ‘should Rome ever become a democracy, he would certainly be one of its leading men’ (ch. 1). Now, this early introduction of democracy is explicable on account of Publicola’s being matched with Solon. But it must not be overlooked that, for Greek writers of the imperial period, democratic (demotikos), when applied to governors and magistrates and especially to the emperor, served as the Greek equivalent of civil (civilis), the imperial virtue cited above. And, for Plutarch, Publicola is the embodiment of civility and moderation, a conclusion he draws in chapter 12: ‘Publicola, then, revealed himself to be a lawgiver who was sensitive to popular rights [demotikos], as well as moderate.’ During his first consulship, when after Brutus’ death he was Rome’s sole consul and was dwelling in a grand house on the Palatine, Publicola was accused of having tyrannical aspirations. These suspicions he allayed by demolishing his mansion and by displaying before the people a proper respect for its sovereignty, actions that instilled a popular appreciation for his high-mindedness, that is to say, his megalophrosyne, another imperial virtue that registered a ruler’s unwillingness to descend into tyranny. These qualities of Publicola mark a striking contrast with the one emperor who is mentioned in this Life, the wicked Domitian, whose appetite for luxurious building, including the furnishing of his own Palatine mansion, reveals his baseness as well as his tastelessness (ch. 15).

  Nothing in Plutarch’s analysis of Publicola’s statesmanlike behaviour should be mistaken for idealizing sentimentality. He knew very well that it was through exercising the virtues of moderation and civility that Publicola, like any leader in similar circumstances, enhanced his real political authority:

  Now, it was hardly the case that in doing this Valerius actually abased himself, as the multitude was mistakenly inclined to believe, but rather, by exercising moderation, he checked and eliminated the people’s envy of his authority, thereby adding as much to his real influence as he appeared to be giving up in political power. It was because of this that the public submitted to him gladly, and willingly obeyed him.

  (ch. 10)

  Thus the quality of good leadership remains the same, be the government republican or imperial, and Publicola is nothing less than an exemplary specimen of its ideal practice. This Life, then, is an essay on sound statesmanship.

  Naturally, the Publicola of Plutarch’s Life, like the Publicola he found in his sources, is a figure more legendary than historical. In 1977, however, an inscription was discovered near Borgo Montello at the site of ancient Satricum (for which reason it is known as the lapis Satricum). It dates from around 500 BC and records a dedication made to Mars by ‘the companions of Poplios Valesios’. Now this figure is unquestionably to be connected with our Publius Valerius Publicola, but this Valerius, the leader of a band of loyal fighters, was a local warlord and plainly nothing like the Roman consul whose fame lay in forging the good government of the republic.3 In this instance, a fragment of realia from Rome’s early history helps us to appreciate the profound gap between what our sources report and what was actually the case at the time.

  Sources

  Doubtless Plutarch consulted Dionysius of Halicarnassus and Livy. And for this Life he unquestionably turned to Valerius Antias (on whom see Introduction to Romulus). Of course, Plutarch’s interests in early Rome and antiquarianism led him to read widely, and it is impossible to identify his every source. For instance, at Brutus 40, Plutarch cites the memoirs of Valerius Messala Corvinus, the great general and statesman of the Augustan age: his account of the civil war4 may also have included notices of his illustrious ancestry, including the great Publicola, which Plutarch took up (even though Messala’s work is never mentioned in this Life).

  Life of Publicola

  [consul in 509 BC]

  1. Such a man as this was Solon.1 For his parallel, we turn to the life of Publicola, who received this name as an honour from the Roman people.2 Prior to that he was called Publius Valerius. He was reputed to be a descendant of the Valerius who, in ancient times, had been chiefly responsible for the reconciliation between Romans and Sabines that led to their becoming a single people, for it was he who persuaded their kings to meet with one another in order to settle their differences.3 This is what our sources tell us about Valerius’ origins. During the period when Rome was still ruled by kings, he became distinguished for his eloquence and wealth,4 always using the one in truthfully and openly defending justice and the other in offering liberal and humane assistance to the needy. These practices made it clear that, should Rome ever become a democracy, he would certainly be one of its leading men.

  Now inasmuch as Tarquinius Superbus5 had acquired his power ignobly through impiety and injustice, and did not govern like a king but like a violent and arrogant tyrant, the people found him odious and intolerable. Consequently, when Lucretia6 took her own life after she had been raped, the people seized the moment to rise in rebellion. Lucius Brutus,7 taking charge of this revolution,8 went first to Valerius and, with his fervent cooperation, expelled the monarchy.

  So long as it seemed likely that the people would select a single magistrate to replace their king, Valerius was content to remain quiet, for he believed it more than fitting that Brutus, who had taken the lead in the cause of freedom, hold the office. The people, however, disliked the idea of putting all political authority in the hands of one man, believing instead that, by dividing this power, it would be easier to endure. For this reason, they proposed and demanded that two men be elected.9 At this point, Valerius began to hope that he would be elected after Brutus and share the consulship with him. He was disappointed, however, when, despite his receiving an endorsement from Brutus, Valerius was passed over and Tarquinius Collatinus, the husband of Lucretia, was elected Brutus’ colleague. Collatinus was by no means Valerius’ superior in merit, but the leading men of the city were still afraid of the king, who, although in exile, continued to exert himself in striving to regain the city’s favour. For this reason they wished to have a leader who was one of the king’s bitterest enemies on the grounds that he would be unrelenting in his opposition to the monarchy.10

  2. Valerius, indignant when his capacity to do everything he could for his country was put in doubt simply because he had suffered no personal injury during the tyranny, withdrew from the senate, ceased pleading in the courts, and renounced public affairs altogether. This gave rise to anxious murmuring on the part of the multitude, who worried that, owing
to his anger, Valerius might attach himself to the party of the king and subvert the new government, which was not yet securely established. However, when Brutus, because he was suspicious of the loyalties of other prominent men, wanted the senate to take a sacrificial oath11 and fixed a day for it, Valerius came cheerfully down to the forum and was the first man to swear that he would never yield or submit to the Tarquins but would fight for freedom with all his might. This pleased the senate and encouraged the consuls. And at once Valerius’ oath was confirmed by his deeds. For Tarquinius sent envoys12 bearing conciliatory letters as well as appealing proposals which they believed would seduce the multitude, for they were offered by a king who gave the impression of abandoning his pride and seeking only modest concessions.13 The consuls took the view that these men had to be allowed to appear before a public assembly, but Valerius would not allow it. On the contrary, he was absolutely opposed to supplying opportunities or pretexts for overthrowing the new government to men whose poverty would render revolution an even more grievous burden than tyranny.

  3. Afterwards, there came new envoys who announced that Tarquinius had renounced his throne and given up his war against Rome. He sought instead, on his own behalf as well as that of his friends and relations, the return of their riches and goods, for they needed these to sustain themselves in exile. Many were inclined to allow this, not least Collatinus, who joined in supporting the proposal.14 Brutus, however, whose nature was harsh and unbending, rushed to the forum, where he accused his colleague of treason on the grounds that he favoured handing over to men for whom it would be dangerous to vote even basic subsistence during their exile material resources sufficient for resuming war or even restoring their tyranny. The citizens were then assembled, and the first man to address them was a private citizen named Gaius Minucius.15 He exhorted both Brutus and the Roman people to see to it that the wealth of the Tarquins remained the people’s ally in their fight against tyranny and not be allowed to take the tyrant’s side against the Roman people. In spite of this, however, the Romans decreed that, since they now possessed the freedom they had fought for, they would not, for the sake of Tarquinius’ property, reject peace. They decided instead to rid themselves simultaneously of the tyrants and the tyrants’ riches.16

  But Tarquinius was not concerned about his property. His request for its return had in reality been a ruse for sounding out public opinion in Rome and for laying the groundwork for the city’s betrayal.17 His agents, by busying themselves in disposing of the king’s wealth – selling one part of it, retaining another, sending the rest of it abroad – found excuses for extending their stay in Rome. In the end, they succeeded in corrupting two of the noblest families in the city, the Aquillii, three of whom were members of the senate, and the Vitellii, of whom two were senators. All of these men, through their mother, were nephews of Collatinus.18 The Vitellii were also related to Brutus, for he had married one of their sisters19 and she had borne him several sons. Two of Brutus’ sons20 were young men. They were not merely close kinsmen but actually close companions of the Vitellii, who persuaded them to join in their conspiracy to betray the city. This they managed by urging the young men to attach themselves to the grand family – and the royal expectations – of the Tarquins and by doing so deliver themselves from the stupidity and cruelty of their father. Cruelty was their word for Brutus’ inflexibility in punishing criminals. As for his stupidity, Brutus, it appears, had kept up just that pretence for a long time in order to keep himself safe from the tyrants, and even later he never lost this surname.21

  4. And so, when Brutus’ sons had been persuaded and after they and the Vitellii had conferred with the Aquillii, it was agreed by them all to swear a solemn and terrible oath. A human sacrifice was to be performed, and as each conspirator touched the dead man’s entrails, he would pour a libation of his blood.22 To carry this out, they met in the home of the Aquillii.23 Now the house in which this ritual was to be performed was, as one might expect, dark and nearly deserted, which is why the conspirators did not perceive that a slave named Vindicius hid himself there. He had not done this on purpose or because he had any idea of their intentions. Instead, it was simply by chance that he was in the house and, when he saw them dash in, was afraid of being noticed and consequently hid behind a chest. From there he was able to witness their actions and overhear their scheming.24 They decided to murder the consuls and wrote letters to Tarquinius informing him of their plot, letters which they handed over to his agents, who were houseguests of the Aquillii and had been present when this conspiracy was formed.

  After all these things had taken place and the conspirators had departed, Vindicius crept away in secret. He was entirely at a loss as to what he should do about what he had discovered, for he rightly recognized how dreadful a matter it would be to denounce the sons of Brutus before their father, or the nephews of Collatinus before their uncle, especially when the accusations involved were so abominable in nature. At the same time, he hesitated to entrust so important a secret to a private citizen. And yet it was absolutely impossible for him to remain silent, plagued as he was by his knowledge of these intrigues. Finally he sought out Valerius, drawn to him by the man’s affability and kindness and because he made a point of being accessible to anyone who needed him. Indeed, his house remained open even to the humblest person who wanted to speak with him or ask for a favour.

  5. So it was that Vindicius went to Valerius and revealed everything to him25 as well as to his wife and his brother, Marcus,26 who were the only other persons present. Valerius was at once shocked and frightened by what he heard. He refused to allow Vindicius to leave, closing him up in a room and posting his wife as a guard at the door, while he ordered his brother to surround the royal residence, seize whatever letters he found there and arrest the slaves. For his part, he made his way to the house of the Aquillii. He was accompanied by the many clients and friends who were always with him, as well as a large number of his slaves. The Aquillii were not at home, but, to everyone’s astonishment, Valerius burst through the doors of their house and found the letters to Tarquinius27 in the rooms where the king’s envoys were lodged. Even as Valerius was so occupied, the Aquillii rushed home and there was a struggle at the door of the house as they tried to recover the letters. Valerius’ men fought back, throwing their togas around the necks of their adversaries, and finally, after a fierce brawl, they managed to drag the Aquillii through the streets and into the forum. At the same time, similar actions were taking place at the royal residence, where Marcus had taken possession of other letters that were meant to be carried to Tarquinius in the king’s baggage and had seized as many as he could of the king’s agents, whom he brought to the forum.

  6. After the consuls had quietened the tumult, Valerius ordered that Vindicius be brought from his house. When he was delivered to the forum, accusations were lodged against the conspirators and their letters were read aloud. The accused did not dare offer a defence. Nearly everyone present hung his head in silence, but a few, out of regard for Brutus, proposed exile as the penalty, and the tears of Collatinus, like the silence of Valerius, gave the accused some hope of clemency. Brutus, however, addressed each of his sons by name. ‘Come, Titus, come, Tiberius, why do you not defend yourselves against this charge?’ When they did not respond, although he put the question to them three times, Brutus turned his face to the lictors and said, ‘It is now your duty to do what remains to be done.’ Immediately the lictors took hold of the young men, stripped them of their clothes, bound their hands behind their backs and, with rods, scourged their bodies. No one could bear to look upon this spectacle, but Brutus, we are told, did not remove his gaze, nor did any pity soften his angry and severe countenance as he watched the dreadful punishment of his sons.28 Finally, the lictors threw them on the ground and, with their axes, cut off their heads. Only then did Brutus rise and depart, leaving the punishment of the rest to his colleague. He had done a deed which one can neither praise nor blame in the right measure, f
or either it was his superior virtue that let his soul transcend the limitations of human feelings or, owing to the enormity of his outrage,29 he became utterly callous. Each disposition is extraordinary, nor is either of them natural for a human being, for the one is characteristic of a god, the other of a beast. Still, it is just that our verdict be guided by the man’s glorious reputation and that his virtue not be put into question on account of our own limitations as judges, for the Romans believe that even Romulus’ achievement in creating their city is not so great as Brutus’ in founding and establishing their republican constitution.

  7. For a long time after Brutus quitted the forum, everyone was gripped by bafflement, horror and grim silence as they contemplated what had just taken place. Then, observing the weakness and indecision of Collatinus, the Aquillii regained their boldness. They demanded time in which to prepare their defence and insisted that Vindicius be handed over to them on the grounds that he was their slave and it would be wrong to leave him with their accusers. Collatinus was disposed to acquiesce in these requests and thus dissolve the assembly. But Valerius was no longer in a position to surrender Vindicius, because the man had melted into the surrounding crowd. He also refused to allow the people to release the traitors, nor would he allow the assembly to be broken up. Finally, he arrested the Aquillii himself and called for Brutus to return. He complained that Collatinus was acting unnaturally, for, after putting his colleague in a situation in which he was constrained to put his own sons to death, he was now acting as if it were right to restore to their wives these traitors, who were the enemies of their country. The consul then flew into a rage, commanding that Vindicius be handed over to the Aquillii, whereupon his lictors, shoving their way into the crowd, attempted to seize the slave while landing blows on anyone who tried to rescue him. At that, however, Valerius’ friends rushed forward to protect Vindicius, as the people cried out for Brutus, who turned back and returned to the forum. When there was silence, Brutus said that, whereas it was fitting for him to act as the judge of his own sons,30 the fate of the other men was a different matter and must be determined by the votes of the citizenry. ‘Let anyone speak who wishes to do so,’ he urged, ‘and let him try to persuade the people.’ There was no longer any need for speeches, however, and the matter went to a vote in which the conspirators were condemned unanimously. They were then beheaded.31