The Power Behind the Throne

      If there was anyone who could plan for the political future, it was Tanaquil, a serious power-behind-the-throne figure from the legends of the Roman regal period. She was queen of Rome when Rome was just an Italian hill town with very little influence over the surrounding territory, but she used that influence for all it was worth. Her Etruscan origins provided her with the ability to interpret omens (a skill traditionally associated with Etruscan priests), which worked greatly to her advantage when planning for future political events, and which she ostensibly used to the benefit of the Roman state, even at the expense of her own family. Livy’s version is most useful for my purposes, so let’s see what he says.

      At the outset, Tanaquil lives in Etruria and is married to the son of a Greek immigrant. Apparently the Etruscans had a certain degree of hostility toward immigrants, so Tanaquil and her husband Lucumo set off for Rome--since Rome was recently founded, and had been established as a refuge for people rejected from more respectable communities, the Romans were still friendly to outsiders. She may have also known that Roman kings were chosen by election rather than by inheritance--that is, when the old king dies, anyone can run for king--and so seen possibilities for her own future. Tanaquil and Lucumo even receive a good omen on their way to Rome: an eagle (symbol of Roman regal power) steals Lucumo’s hat, and then “crowns” him by returning it. (For those of you planning sightseeing trips to Rome, this is supposed to have happened on the north edge of the Janiculum, just south of St. Peter’s Square.) Upon arrival in Rome, Lucius Tarquinius Priscus (the Roman name Lucumo uses to introduce himself to the neighbors) is able to easily make friends on account of his plentiful wealth--throwing big parties and buying rounds of drinks was just as popular then as it always has been. And he proceeds to do so, since he (and also his wife behind the scenes) is very eager to advance his political career.

      Eventually the Roman king dies, and candidacy for the new king is opened for bids. Tarquinius campaigns so persuasively (I can picture the parties now) that he is elected unanimously to be the new king, but there’s a problem: the old king left two young sons behind. In theory, they shouldn’t be an obstacle--the Roman kingship was never inherited from father to son before--but the sense of entitlement can run deep, and Tarquinius worries about what claims they might make on the basis of their father’s position. At the time of the election, he makes sure they’re off on a hunting trip (note: in mythology, hunting trips are frequently opportunities for people to be accidentally killed (see Adonis, Meleager and his uncles) or at least grievously injured and given a permanent scar (see Odysseus), although, inconveniently for Tarquinius, that’s not what happens to these boys). After the election, he makes sure to shore up his popularity immediately.

      Tarquinius’ wife is an Etruscan omen-reader, and for that reason, Tarquinius himself holds great faith in omen-reading. He’s credited with imposing rigorous superstitious regulations upon the Roman army, so if you’ve ever heard the story of Clodius and the Sacred Chickens (“If they will not eat, let them drink!” SPLASH), you know Clodius would blame Tarquinius for his problems. He’s also credited with laying the foundations of the Temple of Capitoline Jupiter, which can be admired today in the basement of the Musei Capitolini. And he has a number of military exploits, none of which really involve Tanaquil. Her influence as the conniving schemer who shaped Roman history really becomes apparent after many years have passed. The former king’s sons were shuttled out of the way during the election, but as the years went on they become restive for power, feel a growing entitlement to their father’s political position. With that in mind, they engineer a riot in the Roman Forum, in which Tarquinius is gravely injured. And this is where Tanaquil comes in, because her injured husband was given into her care.

      While she’s facing down her husband’s injury (stressful enough, I’m sure), she’s also dealing with the question of who the next king would be, if Tarquinius should die. Of course there are the former king’s sons, who by all indications are vicious parasites, more interested in their own power than the good of the people. Tanaquil and Tarquinius have two sons of their own, but apparently Tanaquil isn’t too keen on them as future kings, either. In theory, any Roman man could campaign for king as Tarquinius had done, but Tanaquil isn’t about to allow that. No, she has a candidate in mind for king, and she had her own reasons for it. There had been a boy in their household, a slave who was captured in a war with a nearby town. One day Tanaquil noticed him sleeping in front of a fire, and saw a wreath of flames burst out around his head--but the flames didn’t appear to hurt him, so she forbade anyone to put them out. As with Tarquinius’ eagle-stolen hat, she decided that this was a sign that the boy, Servius Tullius, would be king. (Servius turned out to have regal ancestry from before he was enslaved--which is rather strange, considering the bad rap kings’ sons generally get in Livy). Anyway, Tanaquil decides that Servius is special and sets out to make him king--to start, she marries him to one of her daughters. Later, when her husband is injured in the riot, she thinks it over some more.

      Tarquinius, as it happens, is dead. He dies of his injuries in the riot, and Tanaquil is left alone to steer her choice of kings into the throne. (It’s reminiscent of MacBeth, in which the character is told a favorable prophecy and then works very hard to make the prophecy come true.) She accomplishes it thus: she shuts up her husband’s corpse in a private room and denies everyone else access to him. She addresses the populace herself, speaking on behalf of her “injured” husband, and announces that Tarquinius is badly injured but conscious, and has requested that Servius rule in his place until he recovers. So for a number of days, Servius goes around gaining experience in the kingship while Tanaquil pretends that Tarquinius is still alive; only when Tanaquil fears the corpse is becoming unbearable does she announce his death. Then she presents Servius as the most experienced and qualified candidate for king, and he is elected in preference to all the other candidates.

      One noteworthy theme throughout Livy’s history of regal Rome is that inheritance is a poor criterion on which to choose rulers, and king’s sons do not themselves make good kings. If you’re really invested in Tarquinius’ success, don’t ask about his legacy. Servius is presented as a well-chosen king who accomplishes many benefits to the state. But eventually he’s murdered by his own daughter (more over-entitled regal offspring) so that her husband--Tarquinius Superbus, a.k.a. Tarquin the Proud, son of former king Tarquinius Priscus--can seize the throne. Tarquin the Proud became the seventh king of Rome and was a brutal ruler, aggressive toward neighboring realms and oppressive toward his own people. And his son, Sextus Tarquinius, was even worse. He decided that ordinary Roman law didn’t apply to king’s sons, and felt entitled to rape the married woman of his choice, an illustration of the egregious violations of law this monster was capable of. If you believe Livy, this callous disregard of law was the instigation for the Roman revolution that resulted in the new republican government. In reality the process was probably more complex than that, involving interference from Tarquinius Superbus’ Etruscan allies, but it’s hard to tell due to ‘winners write the history books’-type reasons. However it happened, the Romans got rid of their system of kingship and adopted a system designed to thwart any one person or family from monopolizing power, which held the state together for at least a few hundred years.