Julius Caesar (7 page)

7

A State of Crisis

IT was with some surprise that people heard that an aged senator Gaius Rabirius, a staunch
Optimate,
was to be tried for high treason at the instigation of the same Labienus who had helped Caesar to his new position. The surprise arose principally because the murder of which he was accused had taken place thirty-seven years before, when a tribune of the people, Saturninus, a noted radical, had been killed. This had been done under an emergency decree of the senate, which could be invoked whenever the senate saw fit to say that the state was in danger. These vague but sweeping powers were naturally anathema to Caesar and those of his persuasion, for they could one day be used against them.

To prosecute Rabirius was in effect to attack the power of the senate and in particular of the Sullan oligarchy. Caesar managed to get himself nominated as one of the judges in the case and passionately sought the condemnation of the old man. The death sentence was actually pronounced and might even have been carried out but for the intervention of Cicero. He had perceived Caesar’s real purpose—the attempt to weaken senatorial powers—and the assembly broke up. Caesar, acting through Labienus, tried yet again to have Rabirius brought to trial, although this time with the penalty reduced from death to a large fine. Once more Cicero moved to his defense and Caesar was thwarted. He had however clearly declared war on the old days of massive senatorial power. No one could doubt that the intention of the popular party was to see the authority of the senate significantly reduced.

The strange figure of Lucius Sergius Catilina—Catiline—now threatened to take over the forefront of the Roman stage. This debt-ridden aristocrat, who had already been defeated in the consular elections, once more put himself forward for the office. He had a considerable following among the many who had been ruined in the tumultuous wars of previous years, great charm and no scruples (the latter not so unusual in the Rome of the period). His social program drew many to him since he envisaged a cancellation of debts—something which would have been attractive to Caesar though not to Crassus, although there seems little doubt that he was in touch with both of them. Nothing, however, so serves to bring together in unity the moneyed and propertied classes as a program of social revolution such as was being outlined by Catiline and his followers, and both the principal orders of society, the senators and the knights, now closed ranks. Cicero, as consul and as leading spokesman for law and order, often proudly referred to this amalgamation of interests as the “Concord of the Orders.” Certainly Catiline soon realized that his quest for the consulship would make no headway against so powerful a block and he decided on revolutionary means.

In July 63 there took place the election for the offices of state for the following year. Caesar, pursuing the normal course on the rungs of power, was elected a praetor. This was the post of a magistrate performing some of the duties of a consul, and second only to the consulship itself in the offices of state. It carried the advantage that a provincial governorship usually followed the year of office, and it was in the great provinces that reputations could be made and fortunes acquired. At the same time Catiline was defeated in his election for the consulship. There can be little doubt that up until now both Crassus and Caesar had been in support of Catiline: he was their type of man. But a Catiline defeated in his second attempt could have no interest to them and, in any case, once his determination to seize power illegally was known, he became a liability. Crassus had his wealth to safe-guard him against most things, but Caesar had little more than the positions he had won for himself and, as High Priest and praetor, he was now well established on the formal route to the top. It seems most likely that at this point both men withdrew their support from the man who was already recruiting an army of revolution.

A conspiracy on this scale could hardly escape detection, especially in a city that swarmed with spies and informers, and Cicero as consul was naturally soon made aware of it. At the same time Caesar and Crassus, eager to exculpate themselves from any association with Catiline, hastened to tell the consul all they knew. It was not a worthy action, and Cicero himself can hardly have been in any doubt that these two men, whom he had long mistrusted, were potentially as ill-disposed toward the republic as any of the conspirators. Cicero had already taken the precaution of calling up a large number of trusted armed followers, thus issuing an open warning to any who intended to use violence against the state. But Catiline by now was too far advanced on the path of revolution to turn back. The grand design was for the revolution to start in Etruria, where an army was being mustered, and to be heralded by outbreaks of arson in Rome—designed to confuse the ordinary citizens—while at the same time those leading citizens and senators who were clearly law-abiding and hostile to the overthrow of the republic would be murdered. First among these, of course, was Cicero. He had singled himself out in all his speeches and actions as a man who resolutely upheld law and order and was the staunchest known defendant of the old institutions.

It is largely from Cicero’s own magnificent orations against Catiline that we know so much about the plot. These were subsequently published so as to be read and remembered by the Roman people and they constitute one of the landmarks of their literature. Catiline now fled from Rome and made his way to Etruria, where the insurrection broke out in late October. The planned assassinations, however, did not take place, probably largely due to Cicero’s vigilance and the maintenance of an impressive guard on himself and all others who had been placed on the death list. It was now the turn of the senate to declare a state of war. An attempt was made on Cicero’s life and Catiline was branded as a public enemy, while the consuls mustered the troops for the defense of the state. During all this time, it would appear, Caesar and Crassus were lying very low. Caesar’s feelings were no doubt ambivalent. He had much to gain by the cancellation of all debts, while in the confusion of a civil war, with the consuls engaged with the armies and the senate in a state of disorder, an opportunist could only benefit.

Then the conspirators within the city unwittingly betrayed themselves. They made approaches to a delegation of Gauls who were visiting Rome, with the object of securing their assistance by a rebellion in their own country, thus furthering the chaos and making the aims of the Catilinarians easier to attain. The Gauls for whatever reason (perhaps they had more sense of dignity and responsibility than many Romans) passed the incriminating letters to the consular authorities. Five of the leading conspirators, who included members of the senate, were immediately seized and placed under arrest. Arrest warrants were also made out for four others who were clearly implicated.

On 5 December the senate met to decide the fate of the arrested conspirators. It was one of the most dramatic meetings on record, for Crassus failed to attend while Caesar, whose position as praetor called on him to speak, did so in such a way that scholars and historians have been arguing about the interpretation of his speech ever since. The rules demanded that one of the consuls-elect for the following year should speak first and this was a certain D. Junius Silanus. He proposed that the arrested conspirators should pay “the ultimate” penalty and the fourteen consulars present concurred in this judgment. Our authorities, including Cicero when he was later reviewing the whole affair, all agree that death was meant by this—”they should not for a moment enjoy the light or breathe the air of which they had sought to deprive their fellow citizens.” It was now the duty of Caesar to speak and, in a long and involved speech, which seems to suggest some embarrassment, he made a case for the conspirators to be condemned to imprisonment for life in the towns which were best fitted to ensure their security (these to be selected by Cicero), and all their property to be confiscated. It was certainly an ambiguous speech, but silence would only have confirmed some of the ugly rumors that were already in circulation.

Caesar’s position was an awkward one since it was known that he had been well-acquainted with Catiline, and he had no wish to give offense to the people, who felt that the conspirators represented their real interests far better than the well-entrenched aristocrats who now condemned them. Also there was the important point that Caesar himself had made, condemning the use of emergency decrees by the senate to bring about the deaths of Roman citizens. In his speech, designed to save the lives of the accused, he made the point that life imprisonment was far worse for a man than death, for death could only mean a release from the burdens and miseries of life itself. In these words spoke the
Pontifex maximus,
the high priest of the Roman state religion. Had he forgotten his demand of the death sentence for the old man Rabirius, or his insistence on the crucifixion of the pirates in his youth?

The ominous suggestion that really influenced the senate was Caesar’s statement that the people in general did not recall the deeds that had led to a punishment, but only the punishment itself. “The crime would be forgotten, but the end remembered.” Second only to Cicero, Caesar was the greatest orator in the Roman world and his speech had a profound effect. The senators understood the implication that the people of Rome might one day avenge themselves for the death of the conspirators (because their aims coincided more nearly with those of the people themselves). The response of the consul-elect Silanus was to prevaricate and to maintain that by “the ultimate penalty” he had meant no more than imprisonment for life. Cicero’s riposte was to suggest that “such a wise and merciful man” as Caesar had contrived, by his own statement, to suggest a penalty for the accused that was far worse than death. If such was the case, then Caesar was proposing a torture far worse than he, Cicero, had suggested. Nevertheless, Caesar had won, and the “conversion” of the respected consul-elect Silanus (whose wife Servilia was one of Caesar’s mistresses) seemed to sway the senate in favor of imprisonment rather than death. Only Catulus could be found among the consulars ready to approve the death sentence. But there did remain one Roman of the antique breed to stand up and vehemently disagree with the acquiescence of his seniors. This was the redoubtable Marcus Porcius Cato, a descendant of the famous Cato the Censor who had distinguished himself in the third war against Carthage and had largely been responsible, in the last and final war against Rome’s major rival in the Mediterranean, for the destruction of that city. This young Cato was of the same opinion as Cicero. Traitors to the Republic must die.

An unusual character, the direct antithesis to Caesar in almost every way, he has been portrayed by Sir Ronald Syme in
The Roman Revolution:

Aged thirty-three and only quaestorian in rank, this man prevailed by force of character. Cato extolled the virtues that won empire for Rome in ancient days, denouncing the undeserving rich, and strove to recall the aristocracy to the duties of their station. This was not convention, pretense or delusion. Upright and austere, a ferocious defender of his own class, a hard drinker and an astute politician, the authentic Cato, so far from being a visionary, claimed to be a realist of traditional Roman temper and tenacity.

He hated Caesar and everything he stood for, and he also had personal reasons for this hatred. Servilia, Silanus’ wife, was his sister, and Caesar to him was therefore the corrupter not only of public but of private morals. He lashed out at Caesar in a way that Cicero would not have dared, accusing him of wishing to destroy the state and of attempting to frighten the senate with a vision of what might happen if they did what they should. Caesar, he maintained, was lucky to have got clear of implication in the whole matter himself, and that was the reason why he was trying to prevent the malefactors from paying the just penalty. Not only should these criminals be condemned to death but their properties should also be confiscated for the benefit of the very state against which they had conspired.

This passion and directness, reflecting no doubt what many senators felt but dared not say, swept away the assembly.

Caesar spoke yet again against the imposition of the death sentence, but by now the mood had radically altered and there was a growing animosity against him. The senators had remembered their duty and had been recalled by Cato to an old Roman sense of what was right. Caesar appealed to the tribunes of the people to use their
veto
, but none would support him, and there was a riot. Hearing the uproar, some of Cicero’s armed guards who were stationed outside rushed in to see if their master was in danger. “They unsheathed their swords,” says Suetonius, “and threatened Caesar with death unless he ceased his opposition [to the motion].” Most of the senators near him fled from the scene; only a few of his friends huddled round him and covered him protectively with their togas. For the first time in his life Caesar came near to death in the Roman senate, and he was sufficiently impressed by the experience to stay away from the senate house for the rest of the year. He, whose rise had been occasioned by preying on the passions of the Romans, now had a firsthand knowledge of them. It was not an experience any man would ever be likely to forget—unless over a long period of time he had become possessed by overweening arrogance.

8

The Praetor and a Scandal

DESPITE the tumult with which the senate meeting had ended, Caesar had nevertheless achieved a great deal by his speech urging a life sentence, rather than death, for the conspirators. The people now had him firmly fixed in their minds as a merciful man and, despite his breeding, not one of the hard and implacable aristocrats of the senate. Besides, hardly had the arrested conspirators been executed than some of the senators began to have qualms about what had been done and, after the elections, two of the new tribunes began to speak out against the death sentences. It was as Caesar had foreseen; whatever his motives had been, he had better understood the feelings of the Roman people than such die-hards as Cato. The two men would hate each other all their lives; indeed, Caesar would continue to hate Cato even after the latter’s death. The whole Catiline conspiracy came to an end when Catiline himself fell fighting against the government troops early in 62. His story has been told by the historian Sallust, and he appears in Roman history as a dark and malevolent figure. Whether he was any worse than those who had once supported him and then abandoned him is a matter for doubt.