Caesar

by Adrian Goldsworthy

  The Julii were patricians, which meant that they were members of the oldest aristocratic class at Rome, who in the early Republic had monopolised power, ruling over the far more numerous plebians. Little is known about the dozen or so members of the clan who won election to the higher magistracies in the first two centuries of the Republic. Unlike other more successful patrician clans such as the Fabii and Manlii, the Julii do not appear to have preserved and promoted the achievements of their ancestors as effectively. Several of these other families continued to be very influential while the patricians’ exclusive hold on power was gradually eroded as the plebians demanded more rights, and wealthy plebian families forced their way into the ruling elite. From 342 BC one of each year’s consuls had to be a plebian. By the end of the second century BC the majority of the most influential families amongst the senatorial elite were plebian. A few honours continued to be open only to patricians, who in turn were barred from becoming tribunes of the plebs, but on the whole the differences between the two were minimal. Merely being patrician did not guarantee political success for a family. There was no process for creating new patricians, and over the centuries a number of families died out altogether or faded into obscurity. The Julii survived, but enjoyed little prominence in public life. A Julius Caesar–the first man known to have had that cognomen–reached the praetorship during the Second Punic War. A much later author claimed that this man took the name because he had killed an enemy war elephant in battle and that it was copied from the Punic word for elephant. Another story was that the name meant ‘hairy’ and that the family were renowned for their thick heads of hair. The story may be an invention. It does seem that around about the same time the line divided into two distinct branches, both called Julius Caesar but registered in different tribes in the census. In 157 BC Lucius Julius Caesar reached the consulship, the only Caesar in the second century BC to manage this. He was not an ancestor of Caius, but came from the other, marginally more successful branch of the family. In the early years of the first century a number of Julii Caesares would begin to enjoy greater electoral success. In 91 BC Sextus Julius Caesar was consul, as was Lucius Julius Caesar in 90. The latter’s younger brother, Caius Julius Caesar Strabo, was aedile in the same year. Aediles were junior magistrates whose responsibilities included the supervision of public festivals and entertainments. Lucius and Caius were from the other branch of the family, and so distant cousins of Caesar’s father. Strabo was widely respected as one of the leading orators of his day. Sextus Julius Caesar is something of a mystery, as it is unclear from which branch of the family he came. It is even possible that he was Caesar’s uncle, the younger, or perhaps more probably older, brother of his father Caius, but there is no positive evidence for this and he may instead have been a cousin.4

  Although the Julii had made less of an impact on the Republic’s history than other clans, their antiquity was widely acknowledged. They were said to have settled in Rome in the middle of the seventh century BC after the capture and destruction of the neighbouring city of Alba Longa by Tullus Hostilius, the Romans’ third king. Yet the association with Rome’s earliest days did not begin with this event, for the family claimed that their name was derived from Iulus, the son of Aeneas, the leader of the Trojan exiles who had settled in Italy after the fall of Troy. Aeneas himself was the son of the human Anchises and the goddess Venus, so that the ancestry of the Julii was divine. As yet the myths of these early times had not crystallised into the form they would take in the Augustan age, when the poet Virgil and the historian Livy would recount the stories in some detail. Even Livy would acknowledge that there were differing versions of the story of Aeneas and his descendants. He was unsure whether it was Iulus or another son of Aeneas who had founded Alba Longa and became its first king, establishing the dynasty that would in time produce Rhea Silvia, the mother of Romulus and Remus. There is little suggestion that in the early first century BC many Romans were aware of such a possible association between the Julii and Romulus. In contrast the clan’s claim of descent from Venus was fairly widely known and presumably not of recent invention. Part of the oration delivered by Caesar at his aunt’s funeral in 69 BC is recorded by Suetonius:

  My Aunt Julia’s family is descended on her mother’s side from kings, and on her father’s side from the immortal gods. For the Marcii Reges–her mother’s family–descend from Ancus Marcius; the Julii–the clan of which our family is part–go back to Venus. Therefore our blood has both the sanctity of kings, who wield the greatest power amongst men, and an association with the reverence owed to the gods, who in turn hold power even over kings.5

  Caesar clearly assumed that his audience would not be surprised by such statements. Some scholars have pointed out that the name Rex (King) may have been derived from a role in religious ceremonies early in the Republic rather than connection with the monarchy. This is almost certainly correct, but such distinctions are unlikely to have been too clear in the first century BC.

  Virtually nothing is known about Caesar’s grandfather, Caius Julius Caesar, but it is just possible that he may have held the praetorship. His wife was Marcia, daughter of Quintus Marcius Rex, who had been praetor in 144 BC. They had at least two children, Caesar’s father Caius and his aunt Julia, who was to marry Caius Marius. As we have seen it is also possible that there was another son, Sextus, who reached the consulship in 91 BC. Caius embarked upon a public career with some success, holding the quaestorship either just before, or soon after the birth of his son. His wife was Aurelia, who came from a highly successful family of plebian nobles. Both her father and grandfather had reached the consulship, in 144 and 119 BC respectively, and three of her cousins, Caius, Marcus and Lucius Aurelius Cotta would also achieve this distinction. Marriage into this family probably did much to help the political prospects of Caius Caesar, but these were boosted even more as a result of his sister’s marriage to Marius. As already noted, Caius was one of ten commissioners tasked with overseeing part of the colonisation programme created by Saturninus for Marius’ veterans in 103 or 100 BC. In due course he would be elected praetor, but the year in which he achieved this is unknown, and estimates have varied from 92 BC to as late as 85 BC. An early date seems more likely, for the year as magistrate was followed by a period as governor of the province of Asia and the most likely time for this is about 91 BC. Caius died early in 84 BC, and we cannot know whether or not his connections would have been enough to lift him to the consulship. If his praetorship had indeed been as early as 92 BC, then he would certainly have been old enough to seek the highest magistracy–and if Sextus Caesar was in fact his brother, then his electoral success in 91 BC would surely have encouraged his brother. However, if Caius ever stood for the consulship then he evidently failed. Ultimately, our evidence for Caesar’s family is so poor and confusing that there is very little that we can say with any certainty, beyond the overall conclusion that his father’s career was reasonably successful, if unspectacular. We cannot say whether his achievements satisfied or disappointed Caius himself and his immediate family.

  Caius and Aurelia are known to have had three children, Caesar and two sisters, both of course called Julia. It is more than possible that other children were born but failed to survive into adulthood for the rate of infant mortality was staggeringly high at Rome (and indeed throughout the ancient world), even amongst the aristocracy. Cornelia, the mother of the Gracchi, is said to have given birth to twelve babies, of whom only three–Tiberius, Caius and their sister Sempronia–survived. This was probably exceptional, but two or three children reaching maturity does seem to have been a steady average for senatorial families. There were exceptions; the Metelli, a plebian noble family of considerable wealth and influence, seem to have been especially fertile and as a result figure heavily amongst the ranks of the senior magistracies in the last hundred years of the Republic.6

  EARLY YEARS AND EDUCATION

  Little has been recorded about Caesar’s earliest years, but some things can
be inferred from what is known more generally about the aristocracy in contemporary Rome. As in most societies until the comparatively recent past, babies were usually born at home. The birth of a child was an important event for a senatorial family and tradition demanded that it be witnessed. When the event seemed imminent, messages would be sent to inform relatives and political associates, who would usually then go to the house. Traditionally their role had been in part to act as witnesses that the child was truly a member of the aristocracy, and an element of this remained. Neither the father nor these guests would actually be present in the room where the mother was confined, attended by a midwife and probably some female relations as well as slaves. In a few cases a male doctor might attend, but he was the only man present with the mother. Although the procedure would later bear his name, there is no ancient evidence to suggest that Caesar was delivered by Caesarean section, although the procedure was known in the ancient world. In fact, it is extremely unlikely, since the operation was usually fatal for the mother and Aurelia lived on for decades. (One much later source claims that one of Caesar’s ancestors was born in this way.) Indeed, no source indicates that his birth was anything other than normal–breech deliveries or other difficult births were seen as a bad omen and are recorded for some individuals, most notably the Emperor Nero. Once the baby was born the midwife would lay it down on the floor and inspect it for abnormalities or defects, at the most basic level assessing its chance of survival. Only after this would the parents decide whether or not to accept and try to raise the child. In law this decision was to be made by the father, but it seems extremely unlikely the mother was not involved, especially when she was as formidable a character as Aurelia.7

  Once a child had been accepted fires would be lit on altars in the parents’ house. Many of the guests would perform the same ritual when they returned to their own homes. Birthdays were important to the Romans and were widely celebrated throughout someone’s life. When a boy was nine days old–for obscure reasons the same ceremony occurred a day earlier for a girl–the family held a formal ceremony of purification (lustratio). This was intended to free the child of any malign spirits or pollution that may have entered it during the birth process. On the preceding night a vigil was held and a series of rites performed, culminating on the day itself in sacrifices and the observation of the flight of birds as a guide to the child’s future. A boy was presented with a special charm, usually of gold, known as the bulla. This was placed in a leather bag and worn around the boy’s neck. As part of the ceremony the child was named, and the name subsequently registered officially. Ritual and religion surrounded every Roman, especially an aristocrat, throughout every stage of his life.8

  Normally the mother played the dominant role in the early years of raising a child. It is unlikely that Aurelia breast-fed any of her babies, for much earlier in the second century BC the wife of Cato the Elder was seen as exceptional for doing this. This and other stories suggest that it was no longer normal for an aristocratic woman to breast-feed her children.9 Most probably a wet nurse was found amongst the substantial slave household maintained by any aristocratic family, even one of such comparatively modest wealth as the Caesars. Selecting a nurse and other slaves to care for the infant were important tasks for a mother, who supervised them closely and performed many tasks herself. Another tale celebrating the importance Cato attached to his role as father tells of his care to be present whenever his wife Licinia bathed their son. This rather implies that the mother’s presence was taken for granted on such occasions. Mothers were not supposed to be distant figures to children looked after principally by servants, but even so their authority was considerable. Tacitus, writing in the late first or early second century AD, discussed the mother’s role in raising children in a passage that presented Aurelia as an ideal:

  In the good old days, every man’s son, born in wedlock, was brought up not in the chamber of some hireling nurse, but in his mother’s lap, and at her knee. And that mother could have no higher praise than that she managed the house and gave herself to her children…. In the presence of such a one no base word could be uttered without grave offence, and no wrong deed done. Religiously and with the utmost diligence she regulated not only the serious tasks of her youthful charges, but their recreations also and their games. It was in this spirit, we are told, that Cornelia, the mother of the Gracchi, directed their upbringing, Aurelia that of Caesar, Atia of Augustus: thus it was that these mothers trained their princely children.10

  Aurelia’s influence on her son was clearly very strong and lasted well beyond his childhood. Caesar was forty-six when he finally lost his mother, who had lived on as a widow for three decades. In itself this was not uncommon amongst the aristocracy for husbands were often considerably older than their wives, especially in the second, third or even fourth marriages that senators might contract for political reasons. Therefore, assuming that the wife survived the rigours of child bearing, it was more than probable that she would outlive her spouse, and so a senator was far more likely to have a living mother than father by the time that he began to reach important office. Mothers, especially those like Aurelia who conformed so closely to the ideal of motherhood, were greatly admired by the Romans. One of their most cherished stories was told of Coriolanus, the great general who, mistreated by political rivals, had defected to the enemy and led them against Rome. On the point of destroying his homeland he withdrew his army, moved less by a sense of patriotism than by a direct appeal from his mother.11

  For the aristocracy education was managed entirely within the family. Many Romans took pride in this, contrasting it with the prescriptive State-controlled systems common in many Greek cities. At Rome, it tended to be those of middle income who sent their children to the fee-paying primary schools, which took children from about the age of seven. For the aristocracy, education continued to occur in the home and, at least initially, boys and girls were educated alike, being taught reading, writing and basic calculation and mathematics. By Caesar’s day it was rare for senators’ children not to be brought up to be bilingual in Latin and Greek. Early tuition in the latter probably came from a Greek slave (paedagogus) who attended to the child. There would also be much instruction in the rituals and traditions of the family and in the history of Rome. This last invariably emphasised the role played by the boy’s ancestors. These and other great figures from the past were held up as object lessons in what it meant to be Roman. Children learned to admire such quintessentially Roman qualities as dignitas, pietas and virtus, all words with a far more powerful resonance than their English derivatives, dignity, piety, and virtue. Dignitas was the sober bearing that displayed openly the importance and responsibility of a man and so commanded respect. This was considerable for any citizen of Rome, greater for an aristocrat, and greater still for a man who had held a magistracy. Pietas embraced not merely respect for the gods, but for family and parents, and the law and traditions of the Republic. Virtus had strongly military overtones, embracing not simply physical bravery, but confidence, moral courage and the skills required by both soldier and commander.12

  For the Romans, Rome was great because earlier generations had displayed just these qualities to a degree unmatched by any other nation. The stern faces carved on funerary monuments of the first century BC, depicting in detail all the idiosyncrasies and flaws of the man in life and so unlike the idealised portraiture of Classical Greece, radiate massive pride and self–assurance. The Romans took themselves very seriously and raised their children not simply to believe, but to know that they were special. Their pride in themselves and in belonging to the Republic was very strong amongst even the poorest citizens, and even more pronounced in those of greater wealth and more privileged birth. Roman senators had long come to see themselves as the superiors of any foreign kings. Young aristocrats were brought up to know this, but also to believe that they and their family were distinguished even amongst the Roman elite. Caesar’s family, with few ancestors who had reach
ed high office and done great deeds in the service of the Republic, still doubtless had some achievements to recount, as well, of course, as the great antiquity of the line and its divine origins. With this sense of importance came a massive sense of duty and of the obligation to live up to the standards expected by the family and the wider community of the Republic. Children were raised to see themselves as intimately connected with their family’s and Rome’s past. As Cicero would later declare, ‘For what is the life of a man, if it is not interwoven with the life of former generations by a sense of history?’13

  Caesar was raised to think of himself as special. In itself this was nothing unusual, but as the only son to carry on the family line, and with a particularly forceful and admired mother, he from the beginning doubtless developed an unusually high, though probably not unique, sense of his own worth. Roman education had an essentially practical purpose of preparing a child for its role as an adult. For an aristocratic boy this meant a career in public life and the chance to win new glory for the family, as well as becoming one day the head of his own household, the paterfamilias, in charge of raising the next generation. From around the age of seven boys began to spend more time with their fathers, accompanying them about the business. At the same stage a girl would watch her mother as she ran the household, overseeing the slaves and, at least in traditional households, weaving clothes for the family. Boys saw their fathers meet and greet other senators, and were permitted to sit outside the open doors of the Senate’s meeting place and listen to the debates. They began to learn who had most influence in the Senate and why. From an early age they saw the great affairs of the Republic being conducted, and so naturally grew up feeling a part of that world and expecting to participate in it once they were old enough. Informal ties of favour and obligation bound Roman society together in a system known as patronage. The patron was the man with wealth, influence and power, to whom the less well off (or clients) came to ask for help, which might take the form of securing a position, winning a contract, assistance in business or legal disputes, or even at its most basic level gifts of food. In return the client had duties to assist his patron in various ways. Most would come to greet him formally each morning. The number of clients a man had added to his prestige, especially if they were distinguished or exotic. Senators might well include entire communities, including towns or cities in Italy and the provinces, amongst their clients. It was quite possible for a patron, even some less distinguished senators, to in turn be the client of an even more powerful man, although in this case the name itself would not have been used. A great part of a senator’s time was spent in seeing his clients, in doing enough for them to ensure their continued attachment, while in turn ensuring that they provided him with the support he wanted. Much of Roman politics was conducted informally.14