The consul’s speech rekindled the emotions of some senators, but the meeting remained divided and uncertain. More opinions were called for, and Cato’s view was sought as one of the tribunes elect. Once again we have to rely principally on Sallust’s account for its content, but Plutarch tells us that the speech itself was written down and subsequently published by clerks working for Cicero who followed the whole debate. In his version the thirty-two year old began by stating that his fellow senators seemed to be forgetting that Catiline was still at large and the conspirators still potentially a threat to the Republic. The State’s very survival was in doubt, and they would be foolish if ‘in sparing the lives of a few villains, they brought destruction on all good men’.20 He disdained Caesar’s view that death was a merciful end to suffering, recalling instead traditional tales of the punishment meted out to evildoers in the afterlife. He was equally critical of the suggestion of sending the prisoners into captivity in different towns. Why should they be any more secure there than in Rome, and what was to prevent them being freed by Catiline’s rebels? On this occasion, as throughout his life, Cato advocated the same stern, unyielding and severe course. Mercy was out of place and dangerous until the threat to the Republic had been averted:
Be assured … that when you decide the fate of Publius Lentulus and the rest, you will at the same time be passing judgement on Catiline’s army and all the conspirators. The more vigorous your action, the less will be their courage; but if they detect the slightest weakness on your part, they will be here immediately, filled with reckless daring…
Citizens of the highest rank have conspired to fire their native city, they stir up to war the Gauls, bitterest enemies of the Roman people. The leader of the enemy with his army is upon us. Do you even now hesitate and doubtfully ask yourselves what is to be done with foemen taken within your walls?21
Just like Caesar, Cato spoke of the example of Rome’s history, in an effort to bolster his view with the support–in each case rather spurious–of tradition. It was not unusual for men arguing opposite courses of action to claim that Rome’s long-standing customs supported them. At Rome innovations almost invariably arrived wrapped in a cloak of tradition. Sallust portrays the debate as essentially a struggle between Caesar and Cato. Thus it foreshadowed the Civil War, when Cato would be Caesar’s bitterest and most implacable opponent. This was a common view, especially as the years went on. Cicero was deeply annoyed when Brutus wrote an account which minimised his own role, while stressing that of Cato. This version had great attraction, becoming one of those incidents where one man had swayed the whole Senate and shown it the path of duty Cato was clearly conscious of playing this role at the time, just as Caesar had been, and he certainly had a considerable impact on the debate. All of the former consuls and many other senators applauded Cato’s proposal as soon as he finished speaking and sat down. Caesar was undaunted and continued to argue his own case. The two men were sitting not far from each other and Cato’s replies became increasingly bitter, though he failed to provoke his opponent. Unlike Cicero, he freely cast aspersions on Caesar’s conduct in recent months, demonising him and claiming that his unwillingness to support the death penalty showed his sympathy for, and perhaps complicity in, the conspiracy. While this was going on, a note was brought in and quietly given to Caesar, presumably by one of his slaves. Cato saw this as an opportunity, declaring that his opponent was obviously in secret communication with the enemy Caesar, who had quietly read the note, did not respond, but demurred when Cato demanded that he read the message aloud. Cato sensed a guilty conscience and became even more forceful, encouraged by approving shouts from all sides. Finally, Caesar simply handed the note to Cato, who was staggered to see that it was in fact a very passionate love letter from Servilia. With a despairing cry of ‘Have it back, you drunk!’, he hurled the message back to Caesar, whose patrician dignity and calm, self-confident style had not wavered throughout the exchange. It was a slightly odd form of abuse, for Caesar was renowned as abstemious when it came to alcohol, whereas Cato himself was a heavy drinker.22
The incident provides an interesting sideline on the relationship between Caesar and Servilia. Clearly it is indicative of great ardour, and the need for contact and communication when they were apart. Sending a love note to a meeting of the Senate, where Caesar would be sitting close alongside both her husband and her half-brother, was an act of considerable boldness on Servilia’s part. Perhaps she, or both of them, were thrilled by the danger of such an act. Silanus’ attitude is very hard to gauge and it is unclear whether or not he knew that his wife was having an affair with Caesar. If he did find out, then he made no attempt to act against his rival. Caesar’s political friendship was worth having, particularly for a man who had only managed to gain the consulship at the second attempt and who did not have a great reputation for ability It has even been speculated that he may have encouraged his wife in an effort to gain Caesar’s support. Deep though their love evidently was, neither of the lovers were likely to miss an opportunity for personal gain.
In the end the vote-taken on Cato’s proposal rather than that of his brother-in-law Silanus’ because it was felt to be better worded–was overwhelmingly in favour of executing the prisoners. Lucius Caesar, Lentulus’ brother-in-law, supported this resolution, as it seems did Cethegus’ actual brother, who was himself a senator. Caesar did not change his position, and was mobbed by an angry crowd as he left the Temple of Concord. As was usual during a debate, the doors had been left open and it was clear that much of what was going on was being reported to the many who had gathered outside and in the rest of the Forum. Fear of the conspiracy, and particularly the stories of plans to set fire to Rome–a dire threat to the many who lived in its crowded, densely packed and readily flammable insulae – had created a deeply hostile mood. Cicero continued to give his open support for Caesar, ensuring that he was not harmed. The final act was played out in the nearby. Tullianum, the small cave-like prison where prisoners were held for short priods, pending punishment. The conspirators were taken there. Lentulus had been stripped of his praetorship, but even so was granted the distinction of being led by the consul in person. The five were taken inside and then strangled out of public view. Cicero emerged shortly afterwards and announced simply, ‘They have lived.’ (vixerunt). In spite of the Senate’s vote, he was one who could be held accountable for this action.23
THE AFTERMATH: CAESAR’S PRAETORSHIP, 62 BC
It did not take long for the first attacks to be made against Cicero over this issue. The new tribunes took up office on 10 December 63 BC, and amongst them was Quintus Metellus Nepos, a man whose reckless reputation is supposed to have prompted Cato to stand for the tribunate in this year as soon as his candidature was announced. He soon began to denounce Cicero’s ‘illegal’ punishment of the conspirators. On the last day of December, the consuls formally laid down their office, and it was customary for them to make a speech recounting their achievements. Nepos and one of his colleagues, Lucius Bestia, used their tribunician veto to stop Cicero from doing this, an almost unheard of insult. He could not prevent the outgoing consul from taking the customary oath and Cicero employed this chance to state that he had saved the Republic. Nepos was Pompey’s brother-in-law and had served for some time as one of his legates in the East, but had returned to Rome and was seen as representing the general’s interests. The war was over and Pompey’s return imminent, but there was a question of how he would return. Already there was talk of summoning back the Republic’s most famous and successful commander to crush Catiline’s rebel army.24
On 1 January, Caesar took up office as praetor and immediately launched an attack on Catulus. The Temple of Jupiter on the Capitoline Hill had been burnt down in 83 BC, and five years later Catulus as consul had been allotted the task of overseeing its restoration. The project had not yet been completed and the praetor summoned Catulus before a meeting of the people in the Forum to account for this dereliction, accusing him of embe
zzling the funds allocated by the Senate. In a studied insult, he stopped the ex-consul from mounting the Rostra and made him speak from ground level. Caesar proposed to bring in a bill that would transfer the task to someone else, most probably Pompey, for Caesar continued to seek popularity through vocal support for the great hero. However, enough supporters of Catulus arrived to pressure the praetor into backing down. As was often the case in Caesar’s career up to this point, actually succeeding in his projects was less important that publicly becoming associated with a cause.25
Caesar then actively supported Nepos, who was proposing a bill to recall Pompey and his army and give them the task of restoring order in Italy. Cato, his fellow tribune, violently opposed them, lambasting them in the Senate and swearing that, while he was still breathing, Pompey would never enter the city with soldiers under command. On the day of voting on this bill, Nepos in the normal way held an informal meeting of the Roman people. He took his seat on the podium of the Temple of Castor and Pollux. This high platform was often used as an alternative to the Rostra, for there was more room for a crowd at this eastern end of the Forum. Caesar had his chair of office placed beside the tribune to show his support. Amongst the crowd were numbers of burly men, including some gladiators, stationed to defend the tribunes if there was trouble. This soon arrived in the shape of Cato and his fellow tribune Quintus Minucius Thermus, who were there to veto proceedings and had come supported by their followers. Cato strode up to the podium and he and Minucius climbed the steps. Cato took a seat between Nepos and Caesar, momentarily disconcerting them by his boldness. A fair proportion of the crowd was now cheering him on, but others were still loyal to Nepos and the tension grew. Recovering, Nepos ordered a clerk to read the bill aloud. Cato used his veto to forbid this, and when Nepos himself took up the document and started to read, he snatched it from his hands. Knowing the text by heart, the tribune then began to recite it, until Thermus slapped his hand over his mouth to stop him. Nepos then signalled to his armed supporters and a riot ensued, beginning with sticks and stones, but culminating in some fighting with edged weapons. Cato and Thermus were both roughly handled, but the former was physically protected by Murena, the consul whom he had so recently prosecuted. In the end Nepos’ partisans and supporters were dispersed. That same afternoon the Senate convened and passed the senatus consultum ultimum. A proposal to strip Nepos of his tribunate was, however, abandoned on the recommendation of Cato himself. However, after summoning another public meeting in the Forum and accusing Cato and the Senate of a plot against Pompey, but saying that they would soon pay the price for this, Nepos fled from Rome. A tribune was not supposed to leave the city during his year of office, but he went even further and sailed from Italy altogether to join Pompey in Rhodes. In the relief at his departure, no one chose to question its legality.26
Caesar had badly misjudged the situation. All our accounts portray Nepos as the prime mover behind the violence in this episode, and as a dangerously impulsive and volatile individual, but Caesar had enthusiastically supported him, at least in the beginning. Nepos was a supporter of Pompey because his half-sister Mucia was married to the general, and because he hoped to benefit from his return. Caesar was no relation to Pompey, and had never had any direct connection with him-although he had been sleeping with Mucia during her husband’s absence on campaign–but was continuing his policy of praising and supporting Rome’s great hero as a means to increase his own popularity. This time it had gone too far and the Senate decreed that he be expelled from the praetorship, which he had only held for a matter of weeks. At first Caesar tried to brazen it out, continuing to appear in public with the trappings of office and carrying out his duties. Again he had failed to understand the general mood, and the deep anger that the recent events had caused. Hearing that some senators were ready to oppose him with force, he dismissed the six lictors who attended him. These men carried the fasces, the bundles of rods and an axe that symbolised a holder of imperium, and his power to inflict corporal and capital punishment. He then removed his toga praetexta, worn on official occasions by senators, and quietly slipped off to his house, the domus publica, making it known that he intended to retire from public life. On the next day a crowd gathered in the Forum outside his house, loudly proclaiming that they were ready to help him restore his fortunes. Caesar went out and spoke to them, calming their mood and persuading them to disperse. Orchestrated or spontaneous–or quite possibly a mixture of both-it was a dignified and responsible performance which persuaded the Senate to restore him. Although his political instincts had failed him a few times during these days, Caesar had shown his ability to realise that he had made a mistake and the skill of recovering from it.27
By now Catiline had been defeated by an army nominally under the command of Cicero’s former colleague Antonius, but in fact led by one of his subordinates. Cato’s claim that strong action would terrify the rebels had proved ill-founded, for the majority stayed loyal to Catiline and died with him. Whatever they may have thought of him in life, there was grudging acknowledgement that Catiline had died well, showing all the courage expected of a member of the aristocracy Yet although he was gone and the rebels defeated, there was still a climate of suspicion and recrimination at Rome. Rewards were available to those providing valuable evidence to the authorities, and this may in part explain the spate of denunciations. Quintus Curius, the man whose mistress had persuaded him to betray the rebels and who had been rewarded with restoration to the Senate, now named Caesar amongst a list of men said to have been part of the conspiracy. Another informer, Lucius Vettius, repeated the charge, claiming that he possessed a letter written by Caesar to Catiline. In the Senate the restored praetor answered Curius by appealing to Cicero, who testified that Caesar had provided him with some information and throughout proved his loyalty As a result, Curius lost his informer’s bounty. Vettius, an equestrian of little importance and questionable reputation, could be dealt with more easily Caesar as praetor commanded him to appear before the Rostra, then had him beaten up and thrown into prison. He was most probably released soon afterwards, but no more public accusations were levelled at Caesar.28
THE ‘GOOD GODDESS’
Little else is recorded of Caesar’s praetorship, and it is more than probable that, at least by his standards, he kept a low profile and simply went about his main task of acting as a judge. Near the end of the year he became embroiled in a scandal of illicit and adulterous love, but just for once he was the innocent party. Every year the festival of the Bona Dea, or Good Goddess, was celebrated in the house of one of the senior magistrates. In 62 BC Caesar’s residence was chosen, probably because he was the senior pontiff as well as a praetor. Although the celebration occurred in a magistrate’s house, neither he nor any other man was permitted to be present, for the ceremonies were performed exclusively by women, chiefly the aristocratic matrons of Rome and their female attendants. After performing sacrifices and other rituals, music and feasting continued throughout the night. The Vestal Virgins presided over the rites, and according to Plutarch the magistrate’s wife did much of the organising of the celebrations. In this case Aurelia may have played more of a role than Pompeia, and Caesar’s sister Julia was also present.
Pompeia had a lover, the thirty-year old quaestor-elect Publius Clodius Pulcher, and the couple had decided that the celebrations offered a perfect cover for an assignation. Clodius disguised himself as a girl harp-player, one of the many professional entertainers, mostly slaves, who took part in the festival. During the night he was let into the house by Habra, one of Pompeia’s personal maids, who was in on the secret. She then ran off to fetch her mistress, leaving Clodius to wait for some time. Growing impatient, he began to wander and bumped into one of Aurelia’s slaves, who promptly tried to persuade the young, and apparently shy, musician to join the rest of the company. Unable to shake off her persistent attentions, Clodius at last said that he could not come as ‘she’ was waiting for ‘her’ friend Habra. Betrayed by
his voice, which was obviously masculine, the slave ran off screaming that there was a man in the house, causing instant confusion. Clodius fled into the darkness. Aurelia reacted with the calm efficiency that it seems was a hallmark of her own character as well as her son’s. She immediately halted the ceremony and had the sacred implements used in the rites covered up, lest they suffer pollution by being seen by a man. Slaves were sent to lock all the doors of the house, to prevent the intruder from escaping. Caesar’s mother then led them as they searched the house by torchlight, eventually finding Clodius hiding in Habra’s room. The woman took a good look at him to make sure who he was–the world of the Roman aristocracy was small and most members of it recognisable to each other, before driving him from the house. Aurelia then sent the women back to their own homes to tell their husbands about Clodius’ sacrilege.29
In the following days, Caesar divorced Pompeia. There was no provision for divorce in Rome’s earliest law code, the Twelve Tables still memorised by aristocratic children in Caesar’s day, but it was nevertheless hallowed by long tradition. Like so many other aspects of Roman society, it was seen as a matter for individual families. By the Late Republic it seems that either the husband or wife could unilaterally divorce the other. In its simplest form a husband would simply say ‘Take your things for yourself!’ (tuas res tibi habeto). Caesar may or may not have used this traditional phrase, or he may have sent a letter to Pompeia, but in any case the marriage was quickly broken. No reason was publicly given for the divorce, but this was nothing unusual even if the preceding circumstances were. The union seems never to have been as close as his marriage to Cornelia and, although the couple had spent most of their marriage together, had failed to produce any children. There is no record of either of Caesar’s other wives taking a lover, but in this case Caesar’s charm had not been sufficient to keep Pompeia faithful. Perhaps he had spent too much time in these years with Servilia and his other mistresses, or it may be that his substantially younger wife resented living in a household that seems to have been dominated by her mother-in-law. Nor should we underestimate the attractions of Clodius, who was intelligent, handsome–his family were renowned for their looks–and charming, with a rakish reputation that made him even more intriguing. The description could as easily apply to Caesar, as could the willingness to seduce other men’s wives. Whatever the reason for Pompeia’s unfaithfulness, Caesar was unwilling to grant his wife the same licence he gave himself. Such an attitude was common for a man of his class and era.30
Caesar Page 20