Caesar. Life of a Colossus (Adrian Goldsworthy) Yale University Press (91 page)

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A few weeks after the assassination one of Caesar’s still loyal associates gloomily concluded that if Caesar ‘with all his genius could not find a way out, then who will find a way?’ The same man’s predictions of immediate rebellion as soon as the news reached Gaul proved utterly unfounded, but 510

The Ides of M ar ch

he was correct in assuming that civil war would soon erupt again. Antony chose to fight against the conspirators. Octavius, now, since the will, formally adopted and thus named Caius Julius Caesar Octavianus, would show truly remarkable initiative and confidence for a youth of eighteen, rallying Caesar’s veterans to his cause and making himself an important figure who, no one could afford to ignore. First he fought for the Senate against Antony, and then, guessing rightly that they would discard him as soon as victory was secured, he joined with Antony and Lepidus to form the Second Triumvirate. In its brutality the ensuing war kept no hint of Caesar’s clemency and resembled more the struggle between Marius, Cinna and Sulla. Within three years virtually all of the conspirators had been defeated and were dead, often by their own hands. The senatorial and equestrian orders were purged by proscriptions on a larger scale even than Sulla had enforced. In time Lepidus was marginalised and left to live out his life as an obscure exile, while Antony and Octavian fought for supremacy. The latter was only thirtytwo when the defeated Antony and Cleopatra killed themselves and left him unchallenged ruler of the Roman world. Rome became a monarchy once again, although the hated name of king was not employed, and this time the change proved permanent. Octavian became Augustus and showed more skill in veiling his power than his adopted father had done. This was part of the reason for his success, but his ruthlessness in disposing of enemies and the fatigue of a population that had endured over a decade more years of bloodshed helped to convince Rome’s elite that it was better to accept his rule than return to civil war.23

511

‘Blood and destruction shall be so in use, and dreadful objects so familiar’

– Shakespeare,
Julius Caesar,
Act III Scene 1.

Caesar was born into a Republic already prone to sudden outbreaks of savage political violence. The scale of the bloodshed grew worse during his life and his own murder was just one episode in an extremely turbulent period of Rome’s history. Caesar’s death was gruesome and spectacular, but very few of the men who have figured prominently in his story died of natural causes. The women fared rather better, although Cleopatra was an exception in this respect as in so many other ways. Saturninus’ followers were massacred when Caesar was a baby, the Social War erupted when he was a child, followed by the civil war that raged as he matured into a man. Between them Sulla and his enemies caused losses to the Roman elite on a scale not seen since the darkest days of the war with Hannibal. It did not stop there. Lepidus soon rebelled in Italy and was swiftly suppressed, while Sertorius waged war with grim efficiency in Spain and was only defeated after years of struggle. Later there was Catiline, then Clodius and Milo, and many lesser figures willing to employ violence in pursuit of their ambitions, even before Caesar crossed the Rubicon. All the time foreign wars remained common, while the staggering initial successes of Spartacus awoke deep fears in a society so dependent on slave labour. However, far more senators and equestrians fell in disputes between Romans, and the bloodletting was probably even greater when Antony and Octavian first hunted down the conspirators and then turned against each other.

Caesar lived in a brutal and dangerous era. This should be an obvious truth, but it is sometimes easy to forget because it was also an extremely civilised age. Caesar’s own
Commentaries
, Cicero’s vast output of letters, speeches and philosophical treatises, along with Sallust’s histories and the poetry of Catullus, represent some of the greatest works of Latin literature. Combined with the later sources they also ensure that these years are better known that any other period of the Roman Republic’s history. Indeed, it is extremely difficult today to avoid looking at the earlier periods of the Republic through the prism of the first century BC, and especially the copious 512

writings and ideas of Cicero. The wealth of detailed information for these years, the day-to-day gossip or detailed discussions of elections and debates

– once again so much of all this comes from Cicero – can lend an air of normality and stability that is deeply misleading. Roman public life in the first century BC was anything but stable. Violence was not ever present, but it was always a possibility, lurking just beneath the surface. The constraints that had restricted competition between earlier generations of senators no longer functioned as well. In most years the round of public life proceeded properly enough, with meetings of the Senate and Assemblies occurring, courts convening and dispensing verdicts, magistrates going about their business, and elections being held. Sometimes jurors were bribed or otherwise persuaded to change their view, or the voters manipulated, but on the whole the life of the
res publica
continued in a way that was acceptable, if not ideal. Rioting, orchestrated violence, murder – and still more open warfare

– remained occasional exceptions that interrupted this pattern. The Republican system was remarkably resilient and sprang back into something like overt normality after each crisis. Yet none of these things was now unimaginable, as they had been to generations before the Gracchi. Men like Marius, Cinna and Sulla had shown that supreme power could be seized by force, while the early career of Pompey demonstrated that an able commander with his own army could force his way into the forefront of public life in a way never possible before.

Caesar’s generation had essentially the same ambitions as the senators of earlier periods, craving high office, wealth and glory to enhance their own and their families’ position. From the second century BC onwards, the profits of empire meant that there was ever more money around, and spending on monuments, entertainments, and other means of buying fame and popularity grew at a staggering rate. By the first century BC it cost far more to have a successful public career. Like many others, Caesar plunged himself into debt in pursuit of his career, trusting to future success to meet the demands of his creditors. Had he failed at any stage, then his ruin would have been complete and irrevocable – hence his comment to his mother on the day of the election to the post of
Pontifex Maximus
, that he would return as a winner or not at all (see p.125). Caesar kept on winning, but other men were not so lucky and failed, losing everything. Some succeeded for a while, until their rivals were able to secure their public condemnation in the courts or elsewhere. In 63 BC Cicero executed the former consul Lentulus, who had already been expelled from the Senate and had had to start his career afresh. Just a few years later the orator was himself forced into exile by Clodius and only the 513

changing balance of politics allowed his subsequent recall. The risks of public life were greater than they had ever been before and very few men could ever feel entirely secure from attack. Those who failed swelled the ranks of the desperate, willing to join any enterprise led by a man promising to restore their funds and prospects. Many such men joined Catiline and died. Others rallied to Caesar in 49 BC and prospered, so long as they survived the Civil War. The violence of the times ensured that failure might not simply bring political and financial ruin, but death. Yet the new dangers of public life were set against the far fewer limits on success. It was possible, at least for a few men, to bend or break the rules and conventions supposed to regulate office-holding, and it was also possible to gain unprecedentedly large and long provincial commands. So many men had prospered by fighting for Sulla to make it clear that fortune and position could be won in civil war. Caesar’s opponents in the Civil War presented themselves as the defenders of a traditional Republic, but the majority had done rather well out of Sulla’s victory.

The combination of high risks and the potential for almost limitless success fuelled both ambition and fear amongst Caesar’s generation. All had seen some men rise spectacularly high and others fall to ruin or death. Most men had neither the inclination nor favourable opportunity to advance their career through intimidation or open violence, but no one could ever be sure that his rivals would not choose such methods. Senators were very ready to believe rumours of revolution or assassination plots. Once civil war actually broke out even remaining neutral was not always a safe option as the proscriptions had shown. The higher a man rose and the greater the risks he took, the harder his fall was likely to be, and the more he worried that his enemies would turn savagely on any sign of weakness. The overweaning ambition of so many of the famous figures in the Late Republic is obvious, but it is all too easy to forget the nervous climate in which they lived and struggled for power. Each success made it harder for a man to turn back and the only real safety lay in more successes. Caesar has gone down in history as the man who crossed the Rubicon, plunging the Roman world into chaos in a gamble whereby he would either win or lose all. It is a mistake to see him as all that different from his opponents or most of the other prominent Romans of the first century BC. It is equally unwise to see the key players in this and other crises as acting only on rational considerations. All were gamblers in their way, and all certainly were afraid of the consequences of defeat and reluctant to trust personal enemies. The spectre of military dictatorship and the proscriptions was always there, as was the 514

memory of other less well-organised massacres and executions. Nor was there much within the mentality of the Roman elite to encourage compromise. Young aristocrats were raised to aspire to
virtus
, an important part of which was the absolute resolution never to give in even in the face of defeat. In foreign wars this had served the Republic well, baffling Pyrrhus and Hannibal, neither of whom could understand why the Romans would not give in when they were obviously beaten. In the age of civil wars it made sure that these internal conflicts were waged with relentless ruthlessness. Once the struggle began the men on both sides knew that they must win or die. It was exceptionally rare for Roman aristocrats to commit suicide when defeated in a foreign war, for it was their job to rally the troops and rebuild their strength until they were ready to fight with greater success. In civil wars the ordinary soldiers could usually expect mercy, but the leaders could not, and so killed themselves in great numbers, whether in despair or defiance.

Caesar tried to change this. In 49 BC he feared falling into the hands of his rivals, just as they were terrified of his returning at the head of an army. In each case the fears may have been ungrounded, but that did not make them less real. Once the war began Caesar paraded his clemency, sparing defeated enemies and in time allowing them to resume their careers. This was calculated policy, intended to win over the uncertain and deter the enemy from fighting to the death, but that does not reduce the contrast with his opponents or earlier victors. After he had won, the pardoned Pompeians were allowed back into public life and some treated very well indeed. Once again he clearly felt that this was more likely to persuade them and others to accept his dictatorship. Regardless of his motives, there was a generosity about Caesar’s behaviour that was matched by no other Roman who came to power in similar circumstances. In the same way, while his lifelong backing for popular causes was intended to win support, at the same time he did implement a number of measures that were in the interest of a wide part of the population.

Caesar was determined to rise to the top. Shakespeare’s Mark Antony said of Caesar that ‘ambition should be made of sterner stuff’. In truth there can rarely have been a sterner or more determined ambition than Caesar’s. At times he was utterly ruthless, although this was far more marked in Gaul than in the Civil War. He seems to have had few scruples and was coldly pragmatic in his willingness to order atrocities. Yet he was never wantonly cruel and used victory for a wider good as well as his own. Ultimately we return to the essential ambiguity of Caesar and his career 515

with which we began. He was an exceptionally talented individual, but he was also a product of his age. Roman politics in the Late Republic was precarious, with increasingly few restraints on behaviour. The Republican system relied heavily on precedent and convention, but these were breaking down, not helped by the readiness with which the authorities employed the
senatus consultum ultimum
with its temporary suspension of law. The rules of the political game had changed and it would have been difficult, perhaps impossible, to return to the old system. Caesar’s ambition, talent, determination and his much vaunted good fortune led him on as he rose to supremacy, and prevented him from ever giving up or backing down. Had he been born in another, less troubled age, his reputation might easily have been far less controversial. He could have been another Scipio Africanus, winning unambiguous glory by saving Rome from defeat by a foreign foe. (Perhaps then he would have ended like Africanus, bitter and disappointed living in self-imposed exile after being forced out of public life.) For all his faults, Caesar was undoubtedly a patriot and a very able man. Instead, Caesar fought and won the Civil War, became dictator and was stabbed to death by conspirators. Whatever the rights and wrongs of his actions, it is hard to imagine that in any way his life could have been more dramatic.

‘Always I am Caesar’ – Caesar through the ages

Caesar the general has been widely admired down the ages. His
Commentaries
were rediscovered and began to be published again in the late fifteenth century. In the coming centuries as more organised states began to develop increasingly sophisticated professional armies, military thinkers often turned to Caesar’s writing for inspiration. Perceptions of the Greek and Roman art of war had a profound influence on the theory and practice of European warfare in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Until comparatively recently the
Commentaries,
along with other ancient texts, continued to play a significant part in the education of officers in Western countries. Napoleon often claimed to have been inspired by Caesar and even during his exile on St Helena produced a critique of the latter’s campaigns. His emulation of the Romans was obviously not just confined to generalship, for he modelled himself on such great men in his own rise to consul and then emperor in a French Republic that had from the beginning drawn much inspiration from Republican Rome. Much of the iconography and language of Napoleon’s empire was overtly Roman, and drew particular inspiration 516