CHANGING TIMES: THE RISE OF POMPEY
The years after Sulla’s death were on the whole a successful time for Caesar, as he gradually moved into public life. Although he had incurred the dictator’s wrath, he had been accepted back into the fold and saw no reason for joining those still choosing to fight against Sulla or the regime he created. He did not join Lepidus’ rising in 78 BC, nor does it ever seem to have occurred to him to go to Spain where many of Marius’ and Cinna’s supporters still continued to fight the civil war. These men were led by Quintus Sertorius, probably one of the greatest generals Rome ever produced, whose talent for winning over the Spanish tribes allowed him to resist the Senate’s armies for the greater part of a decade. Sertorius and his followers were exiles and refugees from the proscriptions, barred by Sulla’s decrees from returning to Rome or ever resuming a political career. There was little alternative for them but to fight on, although on several occasions Sertorius expressed a deep longing to return home, even to live as a private citizen. Despite crossing Sulla, Caesar’s family connections had prevented him from facing a similar ban on political activity. As a result there was no need for him to follow the desperate path of open rebellion against the State.11
Sulla cast a long shadow over the Republic in these years. The Senate was very much his creation, purged of all his opponents who had failed to defect to him in time, and packed with his partisans. As a body he had strengthened the Senate’s position, restoring the senatorial monopoly over juries in the courts and severely limiting the power of the tribunate. Other legislation, for instance a law restricting the behaviour of provincial governors, was intended to prevent any other general from following the dictator’s own example and turning his legions against the State. Making such actions formally illegal was obviously of questionable practical value, as the continuing war in Spain and the rebellion of Lepidus indicated. Sulla could undo neither the precedents he had set nor the consequences of his actions. Italy was still in a state of upheaval as a result of the Social and civil wars. Large areas had been devastated by the rival armies, while the newly enfranchised Italians had yet to be fully and fairly integrated into the wider citizen body. Great swathes of land had also been confiscated so that Sulla could give his discharged veteran soldiers farms of their own, dispossessing many peasants. The problems faced by the Italian countryside had only been made worse by the years of marauding by Spartacus’ slave army.12
Sulla’s Senate had not coped all that well with the series of crises it faced after the dictator’s retirement. The Slave war had seen army after army led by duly elected magistrates routed and even destroyed by the enemy. Unorthodox measures were employed to gain final victory, the two consuls laying down their commands and being replaced by Crassus, who had only been elected to the more junior magistracy of the praetorship. This was somewhat unconventional, but paled in comparison to the rapid rise to prominence of Cnaeus Pompey. The son of Pompeius Strabo, Pompey was born in 106 BC and served under his father’s command during the Social War. Following Strabo’s death, he spent some time in the camp of Cinna, but was treated with suspicion and eventually retired to his family’s vast estates in Picenum. When Sulla landed in Italy in 83 BC, Pompey decided to join him, as did a growing number of others who had fallen from favour with the current regime or who guessed the likely outcome of the war. Unlike these other refugees, the twenty-three-year-old Pompey chose to appear not as a suppliant, but as a useful ally. Using his own money and drawing predominantly on the population of Picenum, he raised first one and then two more legions of soldiers. This was illegal in every respect, since Pompey had never held any office granting him imperium to raise or command troops, and was merely a private citizen. He was not even a member of the Senate, but through his family’s wealth and influence and his own force of personality he was able to get away with it. Unlike his father, who had been one of the most unpopular men of his generation, Pompey was adored by his soldiers, who seem to have had no qualms about his lack of authority to lead them. On their march south to join Sulla the young general and his private army both soon proved that they knew how to fight with skill and ferocity.
Sulla had no scruples about employing Pompey’s services and sent him in succession to fight on his behalf in Italy, Sicily and Africa. In each campaign the dashing young commander defeated the opposition with ease. Sulla–perhaps partly ironically, though it is hard to tell with such a complex character–hailed him as Pompey ‘the Great’ (Magnus) and permitted him to celebrate a triumph, an unheard of honour for a man with no legal imperium. For all the glory he won in these years, Pompey also acquired a reputation for cruelty, stories being told of how he derived a sadistic pleasure from executing the distinguished senators he had captured. For some he was not ‘the Great’, but the ‘young executioner’. In marked contrast to Caesar, Pompey obediently divorced his wife to marry the dictator’s own stepdaughter. The latter was already married and heavily pregnant and died soon after the wedding to Pompey, but it was nevertheless a mark of great favour. For all the honours granted by the dictator, Pompey was not enrolled in the Senate and remained a private citizen, able to call upon his own private army. He did, however, take a keen interest in politics and supported Lepidus’ campaign for the consulship for 78 BC, greatly assisting the latter’s victory. Yet when Lepidus turned against the Senate Pompey quickly distanced himself from him. Faced with rebellion, but lacking significant forces with which to oppose it, Sulla’s Senate turned to Pompey and his legions. Acting with all the vigour he had shown in earlier campaigns, the twenty-eight-year-old general rapidly crushed Lepidus and his forces. His accustomed cruelty was also again on display, most notably when he executed Servilia’s first husband, Marcus Brutus.13
Following this success, Pompey encouraged the Senate to send him to Spain to deal with Sertorius, supporting the army that was already operating there under the command of a more conventionally appointed governor. His cause was helped by the reluctance of the consuls of 77 BC to be sent to the region. This time Pompey was invested with proconsular imperium, legitimising his status. A senator who supported him quipped that he was going not as a proconsul but pro consulibus – ‘instead of both consuls’. In Spain Sertorius proved a much tougher opponent than the military incompetents Pompey had faced in the past, and for the first time he suffered some reverses. The experience was humiliating for one so accustomed to success, but the young general had the capacity to learn from his mistakes, developing a respect for his opponent without ever becoming overawed by him. The war in Spain was bitter and protracted, but as the years passed Pompey and the other senatorial armies gradually made headway against the Marian forces. Even so, had Sertorius not been murdered by one of his own subordinates in 72 BC, the war could easily have gone on for several years. Instead, bereft of his genius and instead guided by his assassin, a man whose ambition and pride greatly outstripped his talent, it was all over in a matter of months. Pompey returned to Italy in the following year, arriving just in time to intercept and destroy a few thousand slaves who had escaped the defeat of Spartacus. This minor success soon prompted him to declare publicly that it was he and not Crassus who had brought the Slave War to an end.
The bad blood between Pompey and Crassus dated back to the civil war when both had fought for Sulla. Crassus was six or seven years older and resented the honours and attention lavished on the flamboyant younger man. He was understandably bitter at an attempt to rob him of the credit he had deserved for his victory over Spartacus. The incident also revealed a rather petty streak in Pompey, which on other occasions moved him to try and steal the glory of others. There was no need for this, given that the war in Spain had been a far more prestigious conflict than the suppression of Spartacus, bringing him a second triumph compared to the lesser honour of an ovation granted to Crassus. Yet Pompey revelled in the acclaim of the Senate and citizens and was jealous of anyone else who distracted the attention from him even for a moment. People tended to like Pompey, his
round face being considered open and attractive even if not classically handsome. Those who knew him better were more cautious, knowing that his public statements often did not match his actions and that he was not always a reliable friend. In contrast Crassus was respected rather than liked, but scrupulously honoured his obligations to others, while never forgetting any debt or favour owed to him. In some ways Pompey was rather immature, something that had been most clearly illustrated at the time of his first triumph when he had planned to ride in a chariot pulled by elephants. Only the discovery that an archway on the processional route would not accommodate such a monstrous vehicle and team had dissuaded him from such a bizarre display. He revelled in the name Magnus, as well as the tendency of flatterers to compare him to Alexander the Great. At times he could be extremely devious, which was no bad thing in a general during a war, but he was not particularly good at playing the political game at Rome. This was mainly through lack of experience, for he had spent the greater part of his life in near constant military service. From the age of twenty-three he had led his own army, for much of the time in independent operations far from any superior. Pompey was used to commanding rather than manipulating and persuading. Unlike other young aristocrats he had spent little time watching the day-to-day business of the Senate and Forum, learning from older senators just how public life was conducted. However, on his return from Spain he decided that now was the time to enter politics formally.
In 71 BC Pompey was thirty-five, but had never held any elected post and was still numbered amongst the equestrian order, for he had never been enrolled in the Senate. He now announced that he wished to stand for election to the consulship for the following year. This was directly contrary to Sulla’s regulation of the public career, which had confirmed earlier legislation. According to this a man could not seek election to the consulship until he was aged at least forty-two and had already held the posts of quaestor and praetor. Crassus, who also declared his candidature around the same time, met the age qualification, but Pompey’s entire career to this date violated both the letter and spirit of Sulla’s rules. Both men were encamped with their armies outside Rome, entirely legitimately, since they were waiting to celebrate their ovation and triumph respectively. Neither made any overt threat, but ever since Sulla had turned his legions on the city to deal with his political opponents the fear was very real that others might do the same. When Pompey and Crassus put aside their personal differences to launch a joint campaign for the consulship there was little desire to oppose them. Crassus had clearly earned the office by his success against the slaves, while Pompey was seen as a hero by a large part of the population. It was irregular for someone outside the Senate to seek to join this body and become consul simultaneously, but it would have seemed absurd for someone who had already enjoyed a string of senior commands to have had to go through all the junior magistracies. Exempted by the Senate from the age and other qualifications–as both men needed permission to stand for election without actually entering the city, since they could not do this without laying down their imperium, which would have meant disbanding their legions before the triumphal procession–he and Crassus were duly elected by a landslide.
Sulla had permitted Pompey a somewhat anomalous position outside the rules he laid down for a career in public life, something that the Senate had felt unwilling or unable to challenge in subsequent years. A degree of flexibility had always been important within the Republican system, especially at times of military crisis. The extraordinary honours and exemptions granted to Pompey were personal and did not mean that regulations were abandoned and that everyone else could follow his example. However, even before they were elected he and Crassus had declared that they were intending to do away with key aspects of Sulla’s system. The first thing that they did in their year of office was to restore full traditional rights and powers to the tribunate. It was a popular measure, hence Caesar’s desire to associate himself with this cause during his time as military tribune. Another measure passed in 70 BC, doubtless with the approval of Pompey and Crassus, was actually put into force by one of Aurelia’s relations, Lucius Aurelius Cotta, who provided a solution to the controversial question of composition of juries. From now on until the end of the Republic juries were drawn in equal numbers from senators, equestrians and the property class registered immediately below them, the tribunii aerarii. Once again this measure carried a good deal of popular support and was seen as a sensible compromise. Another long-running problem was also to a great extent resolved in this year with the election of two censors. These men were the consuls of 72 BC, both of whom had been defeated by Spartacus without this affecting their subsequent careers too adversely. Although the census would not be complete for over a year, it resulted in a massive increase in the number of male citizens properly registered and able to vote. The last even partially complete census had been carried out in 85 BC and included only 463,000 names, but in the new list the total was almost doubled to 910,000. As part of the process, censors were also required to examine and amend the senatorial roll, adding new names and expelling from the House any whose actions or morals had rendered them unfit to guide the Republic. No fewer than sixty-four men were punished in this way.14
Although Pompey and Crassus had combined to seek office and cooperated in the restoration of the tribunate, their mutual dislike and envy swiftly resurfaced. The younger man had begun their year of office in spectacular style. He became consul, joined the Senate and celebrated a triumph all on the same day. Then the new censors decided–no doubt with considerable encouragement from Pompey–to revive an old-fashioned ceremony where the equestrian order paraded with horses and weapons to demonstrate their willingness to perform their traditional role as cavalrymen in the legions. In the middle of this Pompey arrived, proceeded by the twelve lictors who attended him as consul and cleared a way through the watching crowd for him to approach the censors. When asked in the formal words of the ceremony whether he had fulfilled his duty to the Republic, the consul replied in a loud voice that he had served wherever Rome required and always under his own command. As the crowd cheered, the censors accompanied him back to his house. It was a great piece of political theatre, and this and his triumph with its celebratory games were impossible for Crassus to match. Instead he decided to dedicate one-tenth of his wealth to Hercules, paying for a huge public feast at which ten thousand tables were laden down with food, as well as the allocation of three months supply of grain to every citizen. Hercules, the great hero, was closely associated with victory and triumph and the last man to commemorate his military success in this way had been Sulla. As each attempted to upstage the other, relations between the consular colleagues became frigid in the extreme, until at the end of their term they made a public gesture of reconciliation in response to the appeal of an otherwise unknown Caius Aurelius. Both then retired to private life, neither wishing to go out and govern a province as was usual after one of the senior magistracies.15
CAESAR’S QUAESTORSHIP
Little is known of Caesar’s activities in 71–70 BC. During Pompey’s and Crassus’ consulship he is known to have supported a bill put forward by the tribune Plotius (or Plautius), which was intended to allow exiled supporters of Sertorius and Lepidus to return home. He made a speech in favour of this law, which had a personal dimension as it permitted the return of his brother-in-law Lucius Cornelius Cinna. Only a single sentence from this oration is preserved, Caesar declaring that ‘in my opinion, as regards our relationship, I have lacked neither toil, nor deeds, nor diligence’. The duty owed to the extended family as well as friends or clients was very important. Some scholars have speculated that he played a larger role behind the scenes, perhaps encouraging Pompey and Crassus to join forces in their desire for the consulship. It has even been suggested that he arranged the reconciliation between the two, under the assumption that Aurelius was somehow related to his mother’s family. While none of this is impossible, it remains pure speculation since none of
our sources suggest any involvement on his part.16
We do know that it was around this time that Caesar himself stood for the quaestorship and it is probable that securing this was his main concern. In 70 BC he was thirty, the minimum age Sulla had decreed for election to this magistracy. It was an important point of pride for an aristocrat to win office in ‘his year’ (suo anno), that is at the time when he first became eligible. This, as well as other factors, make it most likely that Caesar was elected as one of the twenty quaestors in the autumn of 70 BC and began his year of office early in 69 BC. The consular elections were normally held near the end of July, although there was no rigidly fixed date. There were around 150 days a year when it was permissible to hold an Assembly of the Roman people, but this could be reduced by additional festivals or the declaration of periods of public thanksgiving during which no State business could be conducted. The more junior posts such as the quaestorship were decided in a different assembly that was summoned fairly soon after the consular elections. Canvassing could begin as much as a year before the election, but was particularly intense in the last twenty-four days before actual voting. It was during this time, after they had formally registered with the magistrate overseeing the election, that those seeking office donned a specially whitened toga–the toga candidus, hence our word candidate–intended to make them stand out as they moved around the Forum. As they walked through the crowded centre of the city candidates greeted their fellow citizens, especially those whose property and status made their vote most influential. A specially trained slave known as a nomenclator usually stood behind the candidate, ready to whisper the names of anyone they approached, so that his master could greet them properly. Reliance on these slaves was almost universal, but good politicians made sure that their dependence on this aid to memory was never obvious. It was important for a candidate to be seen, but in many ways it was even more important with whom he was seen. Other senators who supported his candidature were expected to accompany a man for some of his canvassing, and their auctoritas helped to sway the voters. Less subtle propaganda took the form of signs painted on buildings expressing support. Many of the tombs that stood along the sides of the main roads into Rome included in their inscription a prohibition against such marks of support being posted or painted on them.17
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