This story explaining why the Roman elite expelled the monarchy in 509 B.C.E., thus opening the way to the republic, centers on female virtue and courage, as do other stories about significant political changes in early Roman history. The values attributed to Lucretia obviously reflect men’s wishes for women’s behavior, but it would be a mistake to assume that women could not hold the same views. The historian Livy wrote this document in the late first century B.C.E., at another crucial point in Roman history—the violent transition from republic to empire—when Romans were deeply concerned with the values of the past as a guide to the present.

Sextus Tarquinius, the son of Rome’s king (Tarquin the Proud, r. 534–510 B.C.E.), came to Lucretia’s home. She greeted him warmly and asked him to stay [as Roman hospitality demanded for such a high-status visitor]. Crazy with lust, he waited until he was sure the household was sleeping. Drawing his sword, he snuck into Lucretia’s bedroom and placed the blade against her left breast, whispering, “Quiet, Lucretia; I am Sextus Tarquinius, and I am holding a sword. If you cry out, I’ll kill you!” Rudely awakened, the desperate woman realized that no one could help her and that she was close to death. Sextus Tarquinius said he loved her, begging and threatening her in turn, trying everything to wear her down. When she wouldn’t give in, even in the face of threats of murder, he added another intimidation. “After I’ve murdered you, I am going to put the naked corpse of a slave next to your body, and everybody will say that you were killed during a disgraceful adultery.” This final threat defeated her, and after raping her he left, having stolen her honor.

Lucretia, overwhelmed by sadness and shame, sent messengers to her husband, Tarquinius Conlatinus, who was away, and her father at Rome, telling them, “Come immediately, with a good friend, because something horrible has happened.” Her father arrived with a friend, and her husband came with Lucius Junius Brutus. . . . They found Lucretia in her room, overcome with grief. When she saw them, she started weeping. “How are you?” her husband asked. “Very bad,” she replied. “How can anything be fine for a woman who has lost her honor? Traces of another man are in our bed, my husband. My body is defiled, though my heart is still pure; my death will be the proof. But give me your right hand and promise that you will not let the guilty escape. It was Sextus Tarquinius who returned our hospitality with hostility last night. With his sword in his hand, he came to have his fun, to my despair, but it will also be his sorrow—if you are real men.” They pledged that they would catch him, and they tried to ease her sadness, saying that the soul did wrong, not the body, and where there were no bad intentions there could be no blame. “It is your responsibility to ensure that he gets what he deserves,” she said; “I am blameless, but I will not free myself from punishment. No dishonorable woman shall hold up Lucretia as an example.” Then she grabbed a dagger hidden underneath her robe and stabbed herself in the heart. She fell dead, as her husband and father cried out.

Brutus, leaving them to their tears, pulled the blade from Lucretia’s wound and held it up drenched in blood, shouting, “By this blood, which was completely pure before the crime of the king’s son, I swear before you, O gods, to drive out the king himself, his criminal wife, and all their children, by sword, fire, and everything in my power, and never to allow a king to rule Rome ever again, whether from that family or any other.”

Source: Livy, From the Foundation of the City, 1.57–59. Translation by Thomas R. Martin.

Question to Consider

What notions of honor for men and for women are reflected in Livy’s tale?