Cornelia Africana - What a woman! by Elisabeth Storrs

My previous posts about Roman women have centered on victims (Lucretia and Virginia) and villains (Tarpeia and Tullia Minor) whose virtues and vices served as exemplars both good and bad. Today I write about another celebrated woman who was seen as the architype of a Roman Matron. Her name is Cornelia Africana. 

Unlike the other women who were legendary figures, Cornelia’s existence is verifiable through the writing of the Greek historian, Plutarch, who refers to Cornelia in his histories about her two famous sons, the Gracchi Brothers.

Born around 190 BCE, Cornelia Minor was the daughter of Publius Cornelius Scipio Africanus, the famed Roman general and hero of the Second Punic War, and Aemilia Paulla. Her name, ‘Africana’, derives from the cognomen ‘Africanus’ granted to her father after his conquest of the Carthaginians in North Africa. Like Lucretia, Cornelia is seen as an embodiment of civic virtue but she is a far more complex character given her interest in literature and ‘behind the scenes’ influence on politics.

Cornelia and her jewels by Angelica Kauffman, 1785

Cornelia grew up in luxury within an aristocratic household where her father encouraged appreciation of Greek culture and art. She was also schooled in Stoicism, a philosophy which espouses facing the vicissitudes of life with equal fortitude.

At seventeen she was married to the middle-aged Tiberius Sempronius Gracchus in what appears to have been a happy marriage. There is an apocryphal story her husband discovered two snakes in his bed chamber, a male and a female. He consulted a seer who told him that he must kill one and let the other go. If he killed the male, he himself would die, and if he killed the female, Cornelia would perish. Such was his love for his young wife, Tiberius opted to kill the male snake, and he passed away not long afterward.

During their marriage, Cornelia bore twelve children of whom only three survived to adulthood –a daughter, Sempronia (later married to her notorious cousin Scipio Aemilianus to maintain the Scipio dynasty), and two sons, Tiberius and Gaius Gracchus (born nine years apart). She proudly claimed her children as ‘her jewels’.

When her husband died, Cornelia refused the hand of Ptolemy VIII Euergetes of Egypt and chose not to remarry, thereby fulfilling the role of the dutiful ‘univera’ ie a ‘one man woman’ loyal to her husband in life and death. Yet such a choice may well have been a shrewd way to ensure her own independence as well as control over her children’s lives. She already held an esteemed reputation due to her bloodline, and therefore could make choices for herself, a rarity in the ancient world. She thereafter devoted herself to her children’s education. Emulating her famous father’s Graecophilia, she hired the Greek philosopher, Blossius of Cumae, and the rhetorician, Diophanes of Mitylene, as tutors.

The Gracchi Brothers would go on to leave significant marks on Roman history as reformists who proposed the Roman State and wealthy landowners give land to poorer citizens. As a result, Tiberius and Gaius died, a decade apart, in bloody fashion. And this is where the story of Cornelia becomes particularly interesting. Fragments of letters reputedly written to her son, Gaius, were included in the manuscripts of Cornelius Nepos, one of the earliest known Latin biographers. In these fragments, Cornelia is seen as harshly admonishing Gaius for his rebellious actions which had caused unrest in Rome. For he advocated extending citizenship to Latin speaking allies and giving greater freedoms to the plebeians thereby undermining the power of aristocracy.

“No enemy has caused me so much annoyance and trouble as you have because of these events – you who ought, as the only survivor of all the children that I have had in the past, to have taken their place and to have seen to it that I had the least possible anxiety in my old age; you who ought to have wished that all your actions should above all be agreeable to me, and should consider it impious to do anything of great importance contrary to my advice, especially when I have so brief a portion of my life left.” (Nepos, Fragments 1.2)

Cornelia’s voice is forceful and there is an assumption she gives her advice freely and expects it to be heeded. It seems this could be true. In another letter, she advised Gaius not to punish a politician who had been an enemy of his brother which he duly obeyed.

Cornelia, Mother of the Gracchi, by Jules Cavelier

This correspondence was studied decades later by Roman scholars such as Cicero who attributed both Gracchi Brothers’ notable eloquence to their mother’s influence. He also praised the beauty of her writing style. Yet there is supposition the fragmentary letters are not genuine but rather propaganda circulated by an elite faction opposed to the agrarian reforms. Yet, if the letter chastising him is valid, I can understand the passion in her voice. This is allegedly a private epistle to her only living child. By this stage she had buried eleven children. Is it any wonder she would agonise over his politics knowing he might be violently assassinated in a riot as had Tiberius? Sadly, Gaius’ fate was to suicide amid a massacre on the Aventine Hill.

After Gaius’ violent death, Cornelia retired to a villa in Misenum where she received learned men from all over the Roman world to discuss literature and freely share ideas. Plutarch’s description of her here is not of a mother disenchanted with her sons but instead proud of them while displaying the stoicism that enabled her to endure the unbearable loss of all her children and her husband.

‘She had many friends and kept a good table so that she might show hospitality, for she always had Greeks and other literary men about her, and all the reigning kings interchanged gifts with her. She was indeed very agreeable to her visitors and associates when she discoursed with them about the life and habits of her father Africanus, but most admirable when she spoke of her sons without grief or tears, and narrated their achievements and their fate to all enquirers as if she were speaking of men of the early days of Rome.’ (Plutarch’s Life of Tiberius Gracchus 19.2)

After Cornelia died at an advanced age, Rome revered her for embodying Roman virtues and voted for an expensive bronze statue to be erected in her honour. Yet the inscription on the base limits her identity to the men in her life ie her father and sons. (Interestingly, there is no mention of her being the ‘wife of’ Sempronius Gracchus even though he’d been a consul and a triumphing general.) The base still survives and can be seen in the Capitoline Museums in Rome. The inscription reads:

Cornelia Africani f(ilia) | Gracchorum (Daughter of Africanus | Mother of the Gracchi)

The Cornelia Pedestal, Capitoline Museums, Rome

The simplification of Cornelia’s character as an ideal mother and daughter sadly erodes her extraordinary erudition and unusual independence. Thank goodness for Plutarch! Although he writes about Cornelia through the lens of her son’s lives, at least he has given greater context to her than a worn inscription etched in weathered bronze.

Images courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

Elisabeth Storrs is the author of the A Tale of Ancient Rome series. Her latest release, is Fables & Lies: A World War II Novel about stolen treasure and the Aryan Myth. She is also the founder of the Historical Novel Society Australasia and the ARA Historical Novel Prize. Learn more at www.elisabethstorrs.com

Tullia Minor - Rome's Murderous 'Bad Girl' by Elisabeth Storrs

Tullia runs over the Corpse of her Father by Jean Bardin (1765)

In previous posts, I’ve told the stories of exemplary women of Roman legend such as Lucretia, Verginia and Tanaquil. In The Legend of Tarpeia – a  Roman Morality Tale, I’ve also related the fate of the greedy traitoress, Tarpeia, Today, I tell the tale of the ultimate ‘bad girl’ – Tullia Minor – the last queen of Rome.

The historian, Livy, described Tullia as ‘ferox’ - savage. What did she do to be branded so? Try sororicide, mariticide and parricide then add mutilating a corpse to her list of crimes!

Tullia Minor was the younger daughter of King Servius Tullius, the sixth king of Rome. A son of an enslaved Latin noblewoman, Servius ascended the throne due to the influence of Queen Tanaquil, a gifted Etruscan seer, who foresaw his greatness (see The Legend of Tanaquil and the Auspicious Flight of Birds). After Tanaquil’s husband, Tarquinius, was assassinated, she contrived to have the Senate appoint Servius as monarch in preference to her own two sons, Lucius and Arruns. Servius therefore became king without holding a popular vote (although he later called for one and was successful in the election.)

History records Servius Tullius as a visionary leader who introduced important reforms including the Census. This led to the division of citizens into 5 wealth classes each with the right to vote but also the responsibility to serve in war. Under his reign, the boundary of Rome was expanded to include the Quirinal, Esquiline and Viminal Hills. He successfully established a crucial treaty with the neighbouring Latin League, founding a shrine to the Latin goddess, Diana, on the Aventine Hill to mark their concord.

However, Servius’ popularity in expanding the franchise to the lowest classes of citizens raised the ire of the upper-class patricians. The simmering resentment which ensued paved the way to his downfall. But it was the hatreds seething within his own family that were to effect his demise.

To placate the ousted sons of King Tarquinius, Servius Tullius arranged marriages for them with his daughters. The girls, both named Tullia, (according to the custom of women taking the feminine form of their father’s cognomen) were extreme opposites in temperament as were the princely brothers. Unfortunately, the sweet natured Tullia Major was wedded to the ruthless Lucius, while the scheming Tullia Minor became the wife of the unambitious Arruns.

Determined to gain power, Tullia was frustrated by Arruns’ refusal to overthrow Servius and rightfully reclaim the throne. Instead, she turned to Lucius who matched her zeal. The pair conspired to murder their spouses resulting in brother killing brother, sister killing sister, and both committing homicide of their respective in-laws. Unaware of their part in the assassinations, Servius reluctantly then approved a marriage between Lucius and Tullia Minor.

Emboldened, Lucius embarked on a vicious campaign to undermine Servius’ authority and foment rebellion. Having convinced a bloc of Senators to support him, he proceeded to the Curia Senate House and sat on the throne, surrounded by armed guards. When Servius arrived to accost the usurper, Lucius hurled his father-in-law down the Curia’s stairs into the Forum. Dripping blood and abandoned by supporters, the old man limped along Clivius Orbius, the road to the Esquiline Hill.

When Tullia heard Lucius had seized power, she called for her carriage and sped to the Senate House, hailing her husband as king. She then urged him to kill her father lest Servius survive and raise an army from his remaining supporters. Lucius quickly dispatched assassins who slew the injured Servius and left his mutilated body lying across a small alleyway known as the Vicus Cuprius.

With chaos unleashed in the Forum, Lucius ordered Tullia to return home for her own safety. On the way, she came upon her father’s corpse. In a frenzy, she ordered her driver to force the horses to trample the body. As a result, Tullia arrived at her house with blood spattered clothes as ‘a grim relic of the murdered man... The guardian gods of the house did not forget; they were to see to it, in their anger at the bad beginning of the reign, that as bad an end should follow.’

The historian, Livy, pulls no punches when he describes Tullia as maniacally ambitious and transgressive. Unlike Tanaquil who quietly pulled strings behind the scenes, Tullia harangued Lucius into bloody deeds. ‘To Tullia the thought of Tanaquil’s success was torture. She was determined to emulate it: if Tanaquil, a foreigner, had had influence enough twice in succession to confer the crown – first on her husband, then on her son-in-law – it was intolerable to feel that she herself, a princess of blood, should count for nothing in the making, or unmaking of kings.’

Lucius Tarquinius Superbus and Tullia were to become models of  regal depravity: venal, psychopathic and unjust rulers. But Tullia, as a woman, is held up as a shocking example of private and public impiety who is responsible, in great part, for her family’s exile. For ultimately, Lucius and his family were banished when the Romans could no longer stomach his tyranny, rising in outrage at the rape of the virtuous noblewoman, Lucretia, and her subsequent suicide. See Roman Honour Killings – Lucretia and Verginia. As such, the public actions of two women with diametrically opposed characters can be seen as catalysts for the overthrow of the monarchy and the birth of the Republic.

Borghese Steps, Rome

As an interesting side note, the Via Cupria was dubbed Vicus Sceleratus – the Wicked Street – after Tullia’s desecration of her father’s body. In the early C15th century a grand staircase was built over it connecting the Esquiline to the Basilica San Pietro in Vincoli. The Palazzo that was built over these steps by the Cesarini family was given to Vannozza dei Cattanei, the mistress of Rodrigo Borgia (Pope Alexander V) and the mother of the infamous Borgia children; Cesare, Lucrezia, Juan and Gioffre. The steps became known as the Borgia Steps. On June 14, 1497, Juan Borgia left the family apartments through the heavy door to the stairway and was attacked and killed. His body was then thrown into the Tiber, remaining undiscovered for three days.

The identity of Juan Borgia's murderer remains an unsolved mystery. Was it his brother Cesare? Or a jealous husband or brother avenging their family’s honour? It wasn’t a robbery given his body was found with a coin filled purse. Whatever the answer, the scene of his death resounds with ghostly echoes of Tullia Minor’s crimes. Definitely a street to avoid after dark!

Images courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

Quotes from The Early History of Rome by Livy translated by Aubrey de Selincourt, 1971.

Elisabeth Storrs is the author of the A Tale of Ancient Rome series. Her latest release, is Fables & Lies: A World War II Novel about stolen treasure and the Aryan Myth. She is also the founder of the Historical Novel Society Australasia and the ARA Historical Novel Prize. Learn more at www.elisabethstorrs.com

Evocatio - how to entice a goddess by Elisabeth Storrs

The third novel in my A Tale of Ancient Rome saga is entitled Call to Juno. It is set in the final year of a ten year siege between the Etruscan city of Veii and the nascent Republican Rome in 396 BC. These cities were situated only 12 miles apart across the Tiber River but the differences in their societies were marked. The Etruscans were sophisticated and cosmopolitan with trading links extending across the Mediterranean whereas Roman society was insular, warlike and agrarian. Accordingly, by crossing a strip of water, it was like moving from somewhere akin to the Dark Ages into the Renaissance. 

There were many contrasts between these enemy societies but interestingly the pantheons they worshipped contained the same gods with different names. One such Etruscan deity was Uni, called Juno by the Romans. Her counterpart in Greece was Hera. Most modern readers know this goddess as the consort of the king of the gods, namely, Jupiter (Roman), Tinia (Etruscan) or Zeus (Greek.) And the divine spouses were included in a holy triad with Minerva in all three cultures. 

Wedding of Juno - Pompeii 

In Rome, Juno held many roles and was worshipped in many guises. She must have been extremely busy given all her functions! As the goddess of marriage, she protected a bride in her role as Juno Pronuba or Cinxia ‘she who loosens the girdle.’ She was also a mother goddess and protector of children. As Juno Lucina, she looked over women in childbirth, bringing light to the newborn. As she was associated with new beginnings, her sacred day was the Kalends or first day of the month. Juno Lucina was celebrated in the Matronalia festival on 1 March, the first day of spring in the old Roman calendar. On that day matrons and their husbands visited the temple, laid flower wreaths, and prayed for the protection of their marriages by sacrificing lambs and cattle. The wives would undo their belts and loosen their hair to encourage Juno to also loosen their wombs and bless them with children. Husbands would give them presents, and female slaves were provided with special meals and excused from work. 

This gentler aspect of Juno’s nature was contrasted with her role as a warrioress. Juno Sospita or ‘the Saviour’ was a special guardian of Rome in times of war. She wore a horned goatskin helmet and carried a shield and spear. As Juno Moneta, she was the protector of ‘funds.’ Coins were minted in her temple on the citadel on the Capitoline Hill. 

Etruscan Uni

The historian, Livy, states that in 396 BCE, the dictator, Marcus Furius Camillus called to Veii’s guardian, the Etruscan Uni, to forsake her city with the promise of building a new temple especially for her in Rome. This was the first example of the practice known as an ‘evocatio’ or calling forth by which a Roman general lured the tutelary deity of a foreign city to Rome through the promise of games and honours. The fear was the guardian spirit would take revenge if they didn’t continue to receive due respect. There was also fear sacrilege would be committed by taking a god prisoner. And so, in return for betraying their home city, the divinity was granted a new seat in Rome so they would consider bestowing grace upon the hospitable city of their victors. Romans were similarly concerned the tables might be turned on them by their foes. Great care was taken to ensure the name of their own tutelary god was not revealed lest an evocatio was performed. 

The Etruscan Uni was borne by Camillus to Rome as ‘Juno Regina’ - the Queen - and housed her in a temple on the Aventine Hill. There is dispute, however, as to whether she was an ancient Latin goddess already known to the Romans or was only introduced to the pantheon after the dictator wooed her. Confusion arises because Juno Regina is spoken of as one of the Capitoline Triad in the times of the Etruscan kings who ruled Rome prior to 575 BCE. As such Jupiter, Juno and Minerva were each reputed to have cells within the Great Temple of Jupiter on the Capitoline Hill long before the siege of Veii. 

This conjecture fuelled my interest in how divinities have their own origins and histories. Yet the fact Camillus built Juno Regina’s temple on the Aventine Hill may be proof that she was indeed introduced to Rome rather being an already established manifestation of the deity. My research revealed that, although Rome adopted foreign cults, alien gods were not allowed within the city’s holy boundary ie pomerium. The pomerium, however, did not always fall within the footprint of Rome’s city wall. This is the case with the Aventine Hill. Presumably Camillus built the temple for Juno Regina there rather than on the Capitoline because Uni was a foreign deity. Hence the traitorous Veientane goddess was unable to truly place a footstep in Rome’s sacred territory. 

Tanit from Spain

Another cruel evocatio recorded by the historian, Macrobius, was the call to Juno Caelestis of Carthage in 146 BCE. She was a manifestation of the Carthiginian goddess, Tanit, the tutelary deity of the city. The razing of the city and slaughter of those people is a bloody history. There is no reference, however, as to whether a temple was dedicated in Rome to the Carthaginian goddess after her treachery. 

By the time of the Empire, the custom of evocatio was not as prevalent presumably because the number of conquests would result in a plethora of temples needing to be built in Rome. Nevertheless, the Romans assimilation into its own culture of the religions and cults of its conquered peoples continued. There was no longer any need to ask deities to make the journey to Rome! 

Elisabeth Storrs is the author of the A Tale of Ancient Rome series. Her latest release, is Fables & Lies: A World War II Novel about stolen treasure and the Aryan Myth. She is also the founder of the Historical Novel Society Australasia and the ARA Historical Novel Prize. Learn more at www.elisabethstorrs.com

Images are courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

Roman Honour Killings - Lucretia and Verginia by Elisabeth Storrs

The women of very early Rome were definitely second-class citizens with no rights to vote or hold property. They were known only by one name, that of their father’s in feminine form. As I mentioned in my previous post, The Legend of Tarpeia – A Roman Morality Tale, it’s interesting the Roman foundation stories chronicle the deaths of the matron, Lucretia, and the virgin, Verginia, as catalysts for significant political upheaval.

The fables of the doomed women have been handed down to us through Roman and Greek historians such as Livy, Plutarch and Dionysius of Halicarnassus, however, it should be noted that these scholars wrote their accounts centuries after the events described, and without access to primary sources. Accordingly, readers should recognize the exploits of the characters do not reflect the actual history of that city. Nevertheless, while the existence of these women is debatable, their legends have been passed down through the ages as examples of the Roman virtues of chastity, modesty and fidelity.

Tarqinio e Lucrezia by Jan Massys ca 1550

In telling their stories, it’s important to understand the concept of a ‘blood taint’ in Roman customary laws. A woman was expected to be chaste if she was a maiden, and faithful if she was a wife. A husband or father was entitled to kill their wife or daughter if she had an affair. They could also kill them if they deemed a woman’s honour had been sullied regardless of whether she was innocent or guilty of the act that may have constituted her ‘corruption’. This covered the spectrum from a girl being discovered alone with a man without a chaperone to the commission of a rape. Once a woman’s sexual purity had been compromised her blood became ‘tainted’. A woman was also expected to value her own honour as can be seen from the story of the rape of Lucretia.

Lucretia was married to the Roman nobleman, Collatinus, during the reign of the tyrannical Etruscan king, Tarquinius Superbus. When Collatinus boasted his wife was more virtuous than Etruscan wives, the king’s son, Prince Sextus Tarquinius, visited Lucretia to test this claim. Holding a sword to her throat, he demanded she sleep with him.  When she refused, he threatened to not only kill her but also leave the corpse of a naked slave beside her so that Collatinus (and all Rome) would think she had committed adultery with a servant.  To avoid bringing such shame upon her husband, the matron yielded to Sextus. The next day Collatinus discovered the rape and was prepared to forgive Lucretia for her blood taint. Despite his pleas, though, she took her own life rather than live with dishonour.  Her defilement and self-sacrifice incited the Romans to rise up and rid Rome of their oppressive and depraved Etruscan rulers. After this, the Romans vowed never again to be governed by a monarch and the Republic of Rome was born.

Verginia’s story is similarly tragic. She was a pawn whose death stirred the men of Rome to rise up and depose the corrupt government of the Decemvirs, ‘ten men’ elected to rule Rome after King Tarquinius had been expelled.

Verginia was the daughter of a centurion, Lucius Verginius.  The plebeian maiden was known for her exceptional beauty. She caught the eye of the patrician judge, Appius Claudius, who was one of the Decemvirs. Whilst Verginius was away, Claudius organized for a client to bring a thinly veiled court case claiming Verginia was his slave on the basis he would then hand the girl over for Claudius to use.  The fact the girl was deprived of her liberty by a wrongful assertion of slavery outraged the populace as it was clear Claudius was abusing his power to enable him to debauch the girl. Even though Verginius returned in time to discover the scheme, Claudius ruled Verginia should be removed from her father’s house anyway.  Not wishing his daughter to be subjected to the shame of being a rich man’s whore and a slave, the centurion took a butcher’s knife and slew her.  The outcry that followed led to the downfall of the Decemvirs. Verginius himself was not condemned as a murderer, though, because he had power of life and death over his daughter.

The Death of Verginia by Heinrich Frierich Fuger

The paternalism of these stories jars because we see these women only as victims of the ‘system’ rather than active champions of rebellion. As such, the ravaged and self-sacrificing Lucretia is not depicted as being an instigator of reform in her own right by the ancient historians. Nevertheless, on my reading of Livy’s From the Founding of the City, I like to interpret Lucretia as exhorting both insurrection as well as personal vengeance based on her challenge to her father and husband: “He [Sextus] . . . came as my enemy disguised as my guest, and took his pleasure of me. That pleasure will be my death—and his, too, if you are men”. Those four words, “if you are men”, are telling. Rape was a capital crime. As such, her father and husband had the right to lawfully take retribution against Sextus. Killing a prince of the Tarquinian royal house, however, was far more problematic, and required considerable courage. Given no Roman man had been valiant enough to rebel against the Etruscan tyrants, Lucretia’s taunt was powerful and defiant. It was only after her shocking suicide the men of Rome were finally spurred to rebellion. As such I like to see her as a woman with a passion for justice. And it gives me satisfaction to know her name is perhaps more famous than the men who avenged her. The tragic matron has not been forgotten. Her name lives on in literature, poetry and art.

Images courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Jan Massys – Tarquino e Lucrezia,  ca 1550

Heinrich Friedrich Fuger – The Death of Virginia ca 1800

Elisabeth Storrs is the author of the A Tale of Ancient Rome series. Her latest release, is Fables & Lies: A World War II Novel about stolen treasure and the Aryan Myth. She is also the founder of the Historical Novel Society Australasia and the ARA Historical Novel Prize. Learn more at www.elisabethstorrs.com. She has also written a short story based on the Lucretia legend which can be obtained at her website