Rome had had her first taste of civil war and dictatorship. The young Caesar–and it is important to remember that all these events occurred while he was in his teens–had seen the personal rivalries of leading senators spill over into savage bloodshed. Consuls and other distinguished men had been executed or forced into suicide, showing that even the most prominent men in the Republic could have their careers violently and suddenly terminated. Caesar himself had narrowly avoided death. He had also stood up to the overwhelming power of the dictator, refusing to back down, and he had survived the experience. Senators’ sons were raised to have a very high opinion of themselves and Caesar was no exception to this. The experience of the last few years can only have reinforced this sense of his own unique worth. He had resisted tyranny when everyone else was cowed into submission. Perhaps the rules that bound others did not apply to him?
IV
THE YOUNG CAESAR
‘This is what I wish for my orator: when it is reported that he is going to speak let every place on the benches be taken, the judges’ tribunal full, the clerks busy and obliging in assigning or giving up places, a listening crowd thronging about, the presiding judge erect and attentive; when the speaker rises the whole throng will give a sign for silence, then expressions of assent, frequent applause; laughter when he wills it, or if he wills, tears; so that a mere passer-by observing from a distance, though quite ignorant of the case in question, will recognise that he is succeeding and that a Roscius [a famous actor of the day] is on stage.’–Cicero, 46 BC.1
A number of portrait images of Caesar survive as busts or on coins, some either made during his lifetime or copied from originals that were, but all portray him in middle age. They show the great general or the dictator, his features stern and strong, his face lined and–at least in the few more realistic portraits–his hair thinning. These images radiate power, experience and monumental self-confidence, and at least hint at the force of personality of the man, although no portrait, whether sculpted, painted or even photographic can ever truly capture this. Ancient portraits often seem especially formal and rather lifeless to the modern eye and it is all too easy to forget that many were originally painted, for we have a deeply entrenched vision of the Classical world as a place of bare stone and marble. Even enhanced by paint–and the great statue painters were as revered as the great sculptors–a portrait bust revealed only some aspects of character. In Caesar’s case they do suggest a keen intelligence, but do not hint at the liveliness, wit and charm that his contemporaries commented upon so often.
It is also difficult when looking at portraits of the mature Caesar to imagine his features softened by youth, though some sense of his appearance is provided by our literary sources. According to Suetonius, Caesar ‘is said to have been tall, with fair skin, slender limbs, a face that was just a little too full, and very dark, piercing eyes’. Plutarch confirms some of this when he notes that Caesar was slightly built and pale, which made his feats of physical endurance during his later campaigns all the more remarkable. Much of this is highly subjective and it is hard to know, for instance, just how tall he was. Suetonius’ comment may well mean no more than that Caesar did not strike people as particularly small even though he was rather slim. We really have no idea of what sort of stature first-century–BC Romans considered to be tall or indeed of average size. In most respects there was nothing especially unusual in Caesar’s physical appearance, for there were surely plenty of other aristocrats who had dark eyes, dark brown or black hair (presumably, since we have no explicit comment on its colour) and pale complexions. It was his manner that most marked out the young man as unusual. We have already encountered the extraordinary boldness with which he stood up to Sulla, when everyone else seemed terrified into submission. Caesar revelled in standing out from the crowd, and dressed in a highly distinctive way. Instead of the normal short-sleeved senator’s tunic, which was white with a purple stripe–the evidence is unclear as to whether this ran vertically down the centre or horizontally around the border–he wore his own unconventional version. This had long sleeves that reached down to his wrists and ended in a fringe. Although it was not normal to wear a belt or girdle with this tunic, Caesar did so, but perversely kept it very loose. Sulla is supposed to have warned the other senators to keep an eye on that ‘loose-girded boy’. It is just possible that this style was intended to serve as a reminder of his earlier designation for the flaminate, given that the flamen was not permitted to have knots in his clothing, but it may simply have been mere affectation. Whatever its purpose, the result was the same. Caesar dressed so that he was recognisably a member of a senatorial family, but at the same time marked himself out as not quite the same as his peers.2
Appearance and grooming were very important to the Romans, and especially the aristocracy. It was no coincidence that the bath-house, a complex devoted to the comfort and cleanliness of citizens, required some of the most sophisticated engineering ever devised by the Romans. The very nature of political life, where senators frequently visited or were visited by potential allies and clients, and where they walked through the streets to attend public meetings, ensured that dress and bearing were always under scrutiny. Caesar was very much the dandy, his turnout impeccable even if his clothing was a little eccentric. The same was true of many other young aristocrats in a Rome whose wealth ensured that expensive and exotic materials were readily available. Young men of senatorial families had the money to spend on such things, as well as great numbers of slaves to pamper to their needs. Those who lacked the funds for such a lavish lifestyle were often willing to place themselves in debt so that they could keep up with those who could. Yet even amongst the ‘fashionable set’ in Rome, Caesar’s fastidiousness about his appearance was seen as excessive. To be closely shaven and have short, neatly trimmed hair was entirely proper, but rumours circulated that Caesar had all his other body hair removed. In many ways it was perhaps the contradictory nature of his character that perplexed observers. Most of the fashionable young aristocrats in Rome spent as lavishly on wild living as they did on their own appearance. In contrast Caesar ate sparingly and drank little and never to excess, although his guests were always well entertained. He thus presented an odd mixture of traditional frugality and modern self indulgence.3
Caesar’s family was not especially wealthy by aristocratic standards and the loss of Cornelia’s dowry had doubtless been a heavy blow. A senator’s prominence and wealth were usually indicated by the location of his house, with the leading men in the Republic living on the slopes of the Palatine along the Sacra Via, the road taken by processions through the heart of the city. Marius had signalled his success over the barbarians by purchasing a house in this area, close to the Forum. Some of the great houses were very old, but it seems to have been rare for the same family to remain in one house for many generations. In part this was because the Roman aristocracy had no concept of primogeniture and instead tended to divide property between their children, often along with political associates whom it was felt important to honour by a legacy. To facilitate this, houses and other property appear to have been bought and sold with great frequency. The house that the orator Cicero would own at the height of his career had originally been owned by Marcus Livius Drusus until his murder in 91 BC. Cicero had bought it from another senator, Marcus Licinius Crassus, a prominent supporter of Sulla who is known to have bought up a lot of property during the proscriptions. The same house had at least two other, unrelated owners in the decades following Cicero’s death in 43 BC. This was a grand building in a position that indicated the great prominence of its occupant. In contrast the young Caesar had a smaller place in the unfashionable district known as the Subura. Situated in a valley between the Esquiline and Viminal hills, and some distance from the main Forum, the Subura was dominated by large areas of slum housing, where many of the poorest occupants lived in badly built blocks of flats off narrow streets and alleys. It was an area of constant bustle, teeming with people and notorio
us for a number of disreputable activities, most notably prostitution. The occupants were probably mainly citizens, including many former slaves, but may well also have included substantial foreign communities. There is evidence for a synagogue in the area at a later date and it is not impossible that one already existed in Caesar’s day.4
Much of a senator’s business was conducted in his home and this was reflected in the design of houses. A porch for meeting visitors, including the clients who were expected formally to greet their patron each morning, and for displaying the busts or ancestors and the symbols of honours and achievements won by them or the present resident was essential. Equally important were rooms for more private discussions and places to entertain dinner guests. The usual layout with a central, enclosed courtyard did offer some privacy, but ambitious men were reluctant to shut out the world. Livius Drusus’ architect is supposed to have offered to construct his house so that he would be free from all outside gaze, prompting the reply that if it were possible he would prefer it built so that everything he did was visible.5 For all their wealth, status and influence, men in public life could not afford to close themselves off from the life and business of the wider city. Therefore, though he doubtless lived on the fringes of the Subura, and certainly is most unlikely to have had a house in the very poorest part of the region, Caesar cannot have been entirely detached from what was going on around him. It may even be that daily contact with the less well off taught him some of the skill he would later show in handling crowds and in talking to the rank and file of the legions.
Living in the Subura may have proved advantageous, allowing the foppish aristocrat to understand better the wider population, but the reason for living there is unlikely to have been anything other than his own modest means. The young Sulla had been even worse off, having to rent a flat in an apartment block since he could not even afford a house, and paying only a little more for his accommodation than the freedman who lived above him. Caesar’s house indicated both his lack of funds and his comparative unimportance in the Republic. To an extent his desire to stand out conflicted with this, as did his willingness to spend beyond his means. Usually this was to further his career, but occasionally it seemed little more than whim. Suetonius tells us that he decided to have a country villa constructed on one of his estates. However, when the foundations had already been laid and building was underway, he was dissatisfied with the design. He immediately ordered the structure to be demolished and a new one built in its place. The date of this incident is uncertain, and it may well have occurred somewhat later in his career, but it helps to illustrate the point that, at least in certain things, Caesar demanded perfection. For much of his life he was an enthusiastic collector of fine art, gems and pearls, which was a rather expensive hobby given his circumstances.6
A CROWN AND A KING
Caesar had gone abroad soon after escaping from Sulla’s men and did not return to Rome until after the dictator’s death. During these years he began the military service that was the legal preliminary to a public career. He served first with the governor of Asia, the propraetor Marcus Minucius Thermus. Caesar’s father had governed the same province about a decade before, so that the family name was already a familiar one to the provincials and the son inherited a number of important connections with leading men in the region. Thermus was a prominent Sullan and Caesar became one of his contubernales (‘tent-companions’), young men who messed with the commander and performed whatever duties he allocated to them. Ideally this provided the governor with a pool of useful subordinates for minor staff functions, while at the same time teaching the youths about soldiering and command. The contubernales were supposed to learn by observation, just as younger boys learned how the Republic worked by accompanying prominent senators in the daily duties at Rome. Like so many aspects of an aristocrat’s early years, the details of where and with whom he would serve were not centrally controlled by the State, but arranged by individual families. The connection between Caesar and Thermus is obscure and may well have been indirect, via someone else with whom both parties had bonds of political friendship.7
Under normal circumstances Asia was a peaceful and prosperous province, making it the sort of posting where a Roman governor and his staff could expect to make a handsome profit during their service. Yet it was only seven years since Mithridates of Pontus had overrun the whole area and ordered the communities to massacre all the Romans living amongst them. Sulla had defeated Mithridates and for the moment the king was once again at peace with Rome, but some of his recent allies had yet to be defeated. One of Thermus’ main tasks was to defeat the city of Mytilene, which was besieged and eventually taken by storm. During the course of the fighting the nineteen-year-old Caesar won Rome’s highest award for gallantry, the civic crown (corona civica). Traditionally this decoration was given only to those who had risked their own life to save that of another citizen. The rescued man was supposed to plait a simple wreath of oak leaves–a tree that was sacred to Jupiter–and present this to his saviour as an open acknowledgement of his debt. However, by Caesar’s day it was normally awarded by the magistrate commanding the army. The wreath was worn at military parades, but winners of the crown were also permitted to wear them during festivals in Rome. None of our sources preserve any details of the exploit that led to Caesar being awarded the crown, but the corona civica was never lightly bestowed and commanded immense respect. During the crisis of the Second Punic War, when the Roman Senate had suffered huge casualties and needed to replenish its numbers, men who had won the corona civica were one of the main groups chosen for admission. It is just possible that Sulla had decreed a similar measure, so that aristocratic winners of the crown were immediately enrolled in the Senate, but even if this was not true, the decoration was guaranteed to impress the electorate and help a man’s career.8
Not all of Caesar’s first term of overseas service was so creditable. Before the storming of Mytilene, the propraetor had sent him to the court of King Nicomedes of Bithynia (on the north coast of modern Turkey) to arrange for the despatch of a squadron of warships to support the Roman campaign. Bithynia was a client kingdom, allied to Rome and obliged to make such contributions. Nicomedes was elderly and had doubtless encountered Caesar’s father, which probably ensured that the welcome given to the son was especially warm. The youth seems to have revelled in the luxury he encountered, and was accused of lingering far longer than was necessary to perform his task. Caesar was young, had led a comparatively sheltered life because of the burdens of the flaminate, and was getting his first taste of the wider world and of royalty. He was also moving amongst those steeped in the Hellenic culture that was so admired by the Roman aristocracy. Any of this might explain his tarrying overlong at the king’s court, but gossip soon spread that the real reason was that Nicomedes had seduced the youth. Stories began to circulate portraying Caesar as a very willing lover, claiming that he had acted as the king’s cup–bearer at a drunken feast attended by a number of Roman businessmen. Another tale had him being led by the royal attendants into the royal bedroom, dressed in fine purple robes and left reclining on a golden couch to wait for Nicomedes. The rumours spread rapidly and were fed when Caesar returned to Bithynia not long after leaving, claiming that he needed to oversee the business affairs of one of his freedmen.9
It was a scandal that would dog Caesar throughout his life. The Roman aristocracy admired most aspects of Greek culture, but it never openly accepted the celebration of homosexuality that had been espoused by the nobility of some Greek cities. Those senators who took male lovers tended to do so discreetly, but even so would often be held up to public ridicule by political opponents. The dislike of homosexuality appears to have been fairly widespread in most social classes at Rome, and it was seen as something that weakened men. In the army homosexuality within the camp was a capital offence from at least the second century BC. During the campaign against the Cimbri, Marius awarded the corona civica to a soldier who had killed an officer af
ter the latter had tried to force his attentions on him. The legionary’s conduct was held up as an example of virtue and courage, while the officer’s death was seen as fitting punishment for his excessive passion and abuse of authority. This was in spite of the fact that the dead man was a relation to the consul. Senators were not subject to such rigid rules as ordinary soldiers, but faced at the very least criticism and mockery if they showed a fondness for male lovers. During his censorship Cato the Elder expelled a senator because the man had ordered the execution of a prisoner at a banquet merely to please the boy with whom he was then enamoured. The man’s fault was his abuse of imperium, but his motives were felt to have made the crime worse. Particular contempt was reserved for the boys or young men who were the objects of passion, and the passive partners in sex. Such a role implied extreme effeminacy and, if anything, was felt to be worse than the behaviour of the older, more active lover. That Caesar was said to have been submissive in this way made the rumours all the more damaging, for this meant that the young aristocrat had acted in a way that was thought unfitting even for a slave. The enthusiasm with which the stories claimed he had taken on the role compounded the crime.10
Ultimately, it was a very good piece of gossip, playing on well–established Roman stereotypes. The Romans were suspicious of easterners, seeing the Asiatic Greeks as corrupt and decadent, in no way resembling the admired Greeks of the Classical past. Kings were especially disliked, and royal courts seen as places of political intrigue and sexual depravity. Thus the tale of the ageing, lecherous old ruler deflowering the young, naive aristocrat on his first trip abroad had a wide appeal. It helped that the story involved Caesar, a youth whose unusual dress and massive self-esteem had doubtless made him cordially disliked, since as yet neither he nor his family could boast sufficient achievements to justify such vanity. It was deeply satisfying for others to think that this overconfident young man had behaved so submissively to gratify some decrepit old lover. Later in Caesar’s career, as he acquired more and more political enemies, the affair with Nicomedes offered them plentiful ammunition to use against him. The story was widely repeated throughout Caesar’s life, so that at times he was dubbed the ‘Queen of Bithynia’. Another of his opponents styled him ‘every woman’s husband and every man’s wife’. Whether or not men like Cicero, who joyfully repeated the charges, actually believed them to be true is hard to say. Whatever they believed, they wanted the allegations to be true and relished hurling them at a man that many disliked, and some came to loathe. Political invective at Rome was often extremely scurrilous, and the truth very rarely got in the way of a juicy story of rampant or perverted desires. Yet it was not just his opponents who mocked Caesar over this episode, for in later years his own soldiers also enjoyed repeating the joke. Interestingly, this does not appear to have diminished in any way from their respect for their commander, and their mockery was affectionate, if characteristically crude.11
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