Roman Women

by Alfred Brittain

The political changes of the time wrought no marked alteration in the status of the women; that is, no legislation was enacted which, in any special manner, bore upon their condition and privileges. Certain developments did take place in the manner of life of the women of Rome; but these were the natural results of the character of the times. The weakening of moral principle which we have noticed in a preceding chapter continued with accelerated rapidity. The bounds set by traditional honor were overthrown with increasing recklessness, and the habits of many of the upper-class women carried the sex still further beyond the limits of old-fashioned morality.

In this period we also See the women beginning to lay their hands to that particular sort of political work to which they are adapted. In the days of the Gracchi, it had become possible for a bright and intellectual lady to draw around her learned men, grammarians, and philosophers; we shall now see such women, who have other ambitions, gathering politicians, and sometimes conspirators, in their atriums. There was Sempronia, for example, who was of the family of the Gracchi and the wife of Decimus Brutus. In her house Catiline was in the habit of meeting his followers for the purpose of plotting his conspiracy. Of her character and attainments Sallust gives us this interesting description: "A woman who had committed many crimes, with the spirit of a man. In birth and beauty, in her husband and her children, she was extremely fortunate; she was skilled in Greek and Roman literature; she could sing, play, and dance, with greater elegance than became a woman of virtue, and possessed many other accomplishments that tend to excite the passions. But nothing was ever less valued by her than honor or chastity. Whether she was more prodigal of her money or her reputation, it would have been difficult to decide. She had frequently, before this period, forfeited her word, forsworn debts, been privy to murder, and hurried into the utmost excesses by her extravagances and poverty. But her abilities were by no means despicable; she could compose verses, jest, and join in conversation either modest, tender, or licentious. In a word, she was distinguished by much refinement of wit and much grace of expression." She seems to have been the equal of Cornelia in ability, and her reverse in character; which, perhaps, illustrates the degeneracy of the times as much as it does the special turpitude of this particular woman.

The Romans were learning the political uses of a salon. The women began to acquire the knowledge that, for those who have access to the powerful male leaders, much may be accomplished by a fair face if backed by an active brain, even though the ballot be denied. The way was being prepared for a Livia and an Agrippina. The women were forced to take a greater interest in politics, for the simple reason that politics had become a most hazardous business. Their husbands might be riding in triumph one day, and finding their names in the lists of the proscribed the next; hence, it often happened that only by mingling in political intrigues could the wives secure their own safety and that of those to whom they were united by affection. The times had changed. In the old days, the women were accustomed, with patriotic ardor, to encourage their male relatives as they marched out against the public enemy, and they bravely devoted their sons to the welfare of the State; but in the times of which we are now treating, those did the best service who possessed the wit to discover a plot. It was to a courtesan named Fulvia that Cicero was indebted for the detection of the Catiline conspiracy.

In the general estimation of the men, however, the chief political use which women might serve was to reinforce, by marriage, the strained relations between rival politicians. Accordingly, the daughter of a powerful leader would be married and divorced, passed from one man to another, with almost as much facility as a detachment of light cavalry might appear first in one part and then in another of a battlefield. These enforced marriages for political purposes had the effect of so training the women that, in the succeeding generations, they could with all the greater levity sever the bonds of matrimony for their own capricious ends. With what nonchalant freedom women made such entrance into the hazardous arena of public life is indicated in the story of Valeria. She was a sprightly young lady, who had been divorced from her husband. One day, in the theatre, as she passed behind Sylla on the way to her seat, she stopped for a moment and plucked a little bit of wool from the dictator's cloak. This caused him to turn and regard her with some wonderment. Whereupon she said: "Surely, sir, you cannot object if in picking a little thread from your garment I also desired to share a small portion of your good fortune." She went on to her seat; but it soon became apparent that Sylla was not displeased. During the performance, the lady was of more interest to him than the gladiatorial spectacle, and it was not long before a marriage was arranged.

This made the fifth time that Sylla had wedded. Just previously to his thus romantically making the acquaintance of Valeria he had lost by death Caecilia Metella, to whom reference has heretofore been made, and who was one of the best women of her time. Kind and compassionate by nature, she often successfully interceded for the lives of men whom her relentless husband had foredoomed. At her death, though there is every indication that he held her in the highest regard, his action was peculiar and extremely characteristic of the man. Because the priest of Venus Victrix, to which goddess he was especially devoted, forbade him to allow his house to be polluted by mourning, while Metella was on her deathbed he sent her a bill of divorce and caused her to be removed to the home of one of her relatives. Yet, after her death he went so far as to transgress his own law against funeral expense, and provided the most elaborate obsequies in her honor.

Sylla was absolutely without conscience in his employment of marriage and divorce for political ends. Metella's daughter by her first husband had been married to Glabrio the Censor. The dictator saw a more useful ally in young Cnæus Pompeius, who was already married to Antistia; therefore, he commanded Glabrio and Pompeius to divorce their wives, and the latter to take Æmilia, his stepdaughter. Piso, also at his suggestion, had divorced his wife Annia. But when Sylla attempted to employ the same tactics with Cæsar, he made the discovery that he had encountered a man of altogether different metal. The latter had married Cornelia, the daughter of Cinna. They had one child, a little daughter named Julia, who afterward became the wife of Pompey. When Cæsar was ordered by the all-powerful dictator to divorce Cornelia, he absolutely refused, preferring death to subjection to such tyranny. There is every warrant for belief that Cornelia was worthy of the devotion of her husband, which she enjoyed to the day of her death.

Cæsar was a turning point in the course of Roman history, a crisis in the history of the world. His labors affected an epoch, and the tragedy of his passing is a memory which can never be relinquished by the human mind. Yet, inasmuch as a man's greatness is always in large measure attributable to the character of the times in which he lives, the same conditions which he seizes to raise himself to the highest position serve also to surround him with other men who approach him in that wisdom strength, and valor which are developed by the common environment. Cæsar was first in a community of heroic souls. Pompey, Mark Antony, Brutus, Cato, and Cassius, all exhibit in their character and their powers a greater or lesser participation in those qualities which made Caesar preëminent. This is none the less true also of the women of the day; the times wrought greatness of soul in them to as liberal a degree as in the men. Hazard, ambition, and high enterprise carried the women of this period far in the development of those qualities which are brought out by such means. Portia, Calpurnia, Fulvia, Julia, and Cornelia were fit companions for their renowned masculine associates.

Hence, independent of how little or how much the feminine participants in this great world-drama may appear upon the stage, we may be certain that when they are seen we have before us some of the most remarkable women in history, if for no other reason than that they are connected with the plot of that drama.

The attention is naturally first drawn to those women who were most intimately connected with Julius Cæsar. To Aurelia, the daughter of M. Aurelius Cotta, was destined the honor of bringing into the world the man who was to bear one of the three most renowned names in its military history. She lost her husband, Caius Julius, while their son was yet a boy; but, from what is known of her character, it is evident that she was not unequal to the task of superintending alone the completion of young Cæsar's education. It was undoubtedly to her influence that he owed the development of those traits which are most pleasing in his greatness. Tacitus is sufficient authority for this, likening as he does Aurelia to the mother of the Gracchi. She was one of the few surviving representatives of that matronal dignity and virtue which beautified the austerity of the earlier days of the Republic. Her house, small and frugally managed, was situated under the Esquiline and Viminal hills, in that low part of Rome called the Subura. It was not a fashionable quarter; in fact, it was a street of shops and taverns. It resounded with the clamor of traffic and the noise of such broils and revelry as are usual in the vicinity of pothouses. At the top of the street, there was a depressed, open space, called the Lacus Orphei because of a statue of Orpheus which stood there. To this spot, which must have made an admirable playground, Aurelia was in the habit of sending a slave to look for the young Csesar when the shades of night fell on the unlighted streets. It is also likely that she as frequently, and with much more satisfaction, caused him to be looked for in the Vicus Sandaliarius, a street running parallel with her own, where were the booksellers' shops.

In her unpretentious residence, with its plebeian surroundings, Aurelia kept house for her son. When he brought home Cornelia, the daughter of Cinna the Consul, as his bride, his mother decked the threshold and prepared the modest atrium for the nuptial ceremonies. Here was born the little Julia, the only child that ever blessed the home of Cæsar.