In the year following the expulsion of Tarquinius the Proud, Rome’s last monarch, the exiled king sought to return to power. He sent envoys to Rome in an attempt to recover his property and estate—a ruse whose real purpose was to regain his throne. The envoys found favor among young patricians who pined for the privilege and excess they had enjoyed under Tarquinius—the austerity of the new Republic was too severe for their liking. The scheming Tarquins drew the disaffected youths into the heart of their conspiracy. Among them were members of the prominent Vitelli and Aquillii families, and, shockingly, the sons of Lucius Junius Brutus, founder of the Republic and a sitting Roman consul. 

The plot to restore the monarchy was discovered by a household slave named Vindicius, who overheard his master planning the revolt. He disclosed what he had learned to Brutus and his co-consul Valerius, including the whereabouts of letters with incontrovertible evidence of the conspiracy’s members and their crime: treason against Rome. Brutus’s sons Titus and Tiberius were named, charged, and imprisoned with the rest.

His sons’ actions thrust Brutus into an excruciating moral dilemma. His responsibility as paterfamilias of his family called for mercy and protection of his sons. His duty as consul was to uphold Roman law. Brutus did not flinch. He took his seat on the tribunal and sentenced his sons: they were to be stripped, scourged, and beheaded, the traditional punishment for Roman traitors.

The arresting painting above by Guillaume Guillon-Lethière depicts the scene. Brutus sits elevated on a dais, robed in red, tightly gripping his curule chair, unmoved by the cries for mercy in front of him. The decapitated corpse of one son lies beside the brown-clad executioner, who displays his head to the recoiling crowd. The other son faints at the preview of his death he has just witnessed.

Brutus became a paragon of Roman virtue by placing the honor of the Republic above the bonds of family. The agony of his dilemma showed all of Rome that preservation of the Republic and letter of the law stood above the interests of even its most powerful citizens. An example of national fidelity that set moral standards for generations to come.

Afterward, the slave who had discovered the plot was rewarded with freedom and Roman citizenship. He was thought to have been the first slave freed by the touching of a ceremonial staff to his shoulders. His name—Vindicius—was perhaps the origin of the word later given to the rod of manumission. As for Brutus, he would forever be the face of Roman resolve.

No matter the price.

The post The Dilemma of Brutus appeared first on Richard Barager.

Brutus’s first action as co-consul, with Collatinus’s approval, was to have all Romans speak an oath asserting that Rome would never be ruled by a king again. But an oath was not enough to ease their fear of a tyrannical monarchy returning to power. Many became anxious that Collatinus, who bore the Tarquin name, might become a threat to their newfound liberty. “We’ve barely rid ourselves of the last Tarquin and now we have another,” people worried. “Tyranny is in their blood.” That Collatinus had become consul in a free and fair election was all but forgotten.

Their fear spread like pestilence, as fear is wont to do. Soon all of Rome was infected by it. Brutus assembled the people and spoke to them. He began by repeating the oath against kings, the sacredness of which, he urged, must be vigilantly guarded. But to the incredulity of Collatinus, whose suffering at the hands of his kin surpassed that of any man in the assembly, Brutus warned that Romans would never feel secure in their liberty with a member of the former royal family as consul, no matter how loyal he had been to Rome. He then called on Collatinus to appease the people of Rome by abdicating his office and ridding them of the Tarquin name once and for all. 

Collatinus at first resisted the city’s hysteria, even as other prominent nobles began to pressure him to leave—including no less a figure than Spurius Lucretius Tricipitinus, the father of his deceased wife Lucretia! Collatinus began to fear that clinging to his consulship might result in forced expulsion from Rome and confiscation of his property. In the face of even his former father-in-law’s opposition, Collatinus acceded to their demands and voluntarily exiled himself to Lavinium, retaining his possessions, if not his pride. Publius Valerius was swiftly elected by the people to serve as consul suffectus (replacement consul) alongside Brutus.

The inordinate fear of losing their liberty to the return of a king would shape the Roman Republic for centuries to come, causing many a consul to suffer the same fate as Collatinus. But lose their liberty they would, in 27 BC, when the nephew of Julius Caesar became not a king ruling over Rome, but a king of kings, an emperor ruling many nations. Tyranny, that most stubborn of weeds, would again take root in Rome.

Making the worst fear of the nascent Roman Republic come true, 482 years later.

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In 509 BC, during the reign of Tarquin the Proud, Lucretia was regarded as the most virtuous of all Roman princesses. Sextus Tarquinius, the king’s son, became infatuated with her and sexually coveted Lucretia. One evening, with her husband Collatinus away, Sextus contrived a visit to Lucretia’s home, where he was received as an honored royal guest. After dining with his gracious hostess, he bid the household good night and retired to his chamber.   

Until all was still.   

Sextus crept with sword in hand to Lucretia’s bed, cupped her breast, and said that unless she gratified his lust, he would kill her. But even with the tip of a sword at her throat, Lucretia refused to be unfaithful to Collatinus. The desperate Sextus then threatened to kill not only Lucretia, but a slave as well, and to lay their naked bodies side by side. “I will say I discovered your adultery and killed you both to defend the honor of your husband.”   

Lucretia could not tolerate the shame her husband would suffer from such a slanderous act. She yielded to Sextus, who ravished her in their marital bed. He departed satisfied and confident that her fear of disgrace would prevent her from disclosing his crime. But it did not.  

She summoned her father, her husband, and Collatinus’s friend, Brutus, to her side. She told them that Sextus took advantage of her hospitality and defiled her. After recounting the details of his vile scheme, Lucretia made them promise to punish Sextus for what he had done. They vowed vengeance and assured her that her honor was intact, as she had not willingly given herself to Sextus. But for Lucretia, such honor could only be reclaimed by the purification of death. She withdrew a blade hidden in her robes and plunged it into her heart, dying within moments. 

Her father and husband stood frozen by their shock and despair. Not so Brutus. He pulled the knife from her chest and swore he would drive Tarquin the Proud, his son Sextus, and their entire family from power. “If this is what kingship begets, let no man ever be King of Rome again!” The revolt Brutus incited led to the assassination of Sextus and the overthrow of Tarquin the Proud. Two magistrates were elected to replace him—Collatinus and his friend Brutus, the first consuls of Rome. The core principles that evolved around the consulship remained the bedrock of the Roman Republic throughout its 482 years of existence: the separation of powers, representative assembly, citizenship, and the rule of law. 

And the story of Lucretia?  Timeless. 

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