Caesar

by Adrian Goldsworthy

  Battle of Munda

  News of the victory reached Rome about a month later, and prompted the Senate to decree fifty days of thanksgiving. Caesar was also granted the title of ‘Liberator’, and a Temple of Liberty was to be set up. In addition he was given the title Imperator permanently – in the past a general had only been hailed in this way by his soldiers immediately after a victory. He remained in Spain for some time, mopping up the last strongholds that remained loyal to the Pompeians and also resettling the province. However, he still found time for his usual flood of correspondence, and we know that near the end of April he wrote to Cicero to offer condolences at the death of his beloved daughter Tullia. Cicero was an important public figure whose political friendship Caesar greatly desired to encourage, but in this case it may have been more than just a question of formality since he knew what it meant to lose a daughter. Cicero was far fonder of Tullia than of either his wife or son, and he never truly recovered from the loss. In Spain, Caesar was busy re-forming a number of towns as colonies, which included existing inhabitants as well as parties of discharged veterans or other settlers. He was eager to reward the loyalty of both soldiers and civilians, provincials and citizens. During his return journey he paused for several weeks in Transalpine Gaul, carrying out similar administrative tasks and looking at the progress of veteran settlement at Narbo and Arelate (Arles). The Gaulish towns of the province were granted Latin status, which meant that their magistrates automatically received full Roman citizenship after their term of office. Mark Antony met him in Gaul and the rift between the two was clearly healed.

  Caesar did not return to Italy until late in the summer, and then seems to have remained outside Rome until he celebrated another triumph at the beginning of October. This time there was no doubt that he was commemorating a victory over a Roman foe. In an unprecedented act he also permitted two of his legates, Quintus Pedius and the Fabius whom he would shortly make consul for the remainder of the year, to celebrate triumphs for the Spanish campaign. None of this was popular with critics in the Senate. During his own triumph Caesar was annoyed when the tribune Pontius Aquila, alone of the college of ten, refused to stand as he passed. Aquila was a former Pompeian who had suffered the confiscation of some of his property, but had evidently been permitted to pursue a public career. The sight so angered Caesar that he lost his temper and called out mockingly, ‘Come on, Tribune Aquila, take the Republic back from me!’ Unwilling to let the matter drop easily, for the next few days he is said to have not made a promise to anyone without adding the sarcastic caveat, ‘That is, as long as Pontius Aquila lets me.’21

  Caesar’s honours were now exceptional. He was made dictator for ten years and all magistrates were formally subordinate to him. To this he added the consulship, for as much of each year as he chose to retain it. Soon this was extended to the formal right to hold the office for ten years. According to Dio he was also given the powers and rights of a tribune of the plebs, although this is not mentioned in other sources. In addition, he controlled the entire Roman army, as well as the Republic’s Treasury. The honours accepted by him-which Dio tells us represented a small fraction of those awarded him by a sycophantic Senate, being merely the ones he chose to take-were staggering. At formal meetings in the Senate or Forum he sat on a special chair of office between the two consuls. An ivory statue of him was included with the statues of the gods and carried in a special carriage at the ceremonies opening the games. There was also a statue of him set up on the Capitol near those of the kings, and one in the Temple of Quirinus, another name for Rome’s mythical founder Romulus. This amused Cicero, since there was a story that Romulus had been torn to pieces by senators and he joked that he was happier to see Caesar with Quirinus than with Salus, the personification of good health and safety. By this time he had become less optimistic than he had been a year before when Caesar had pardoned Marcellus and other leading opponents. It was clear that Caesar held supreme power and showed no sign of returning complete freedom of action to the Senate. Most key decisions were made privately, by men like Oppius and Balbus when the dictator himself was absent. It was not that the decisions themselves were bad, but what bothered him was how and by whom they were taken. For a senator, especially one who had held high office and was used to a prominent role in its debates, important matters should only ever be dealt with in the proper manner by the Senate. The Senate should in turn be guided by its best and most distinguished members, composed primarily of the established aristocracy, joined-so he had always desired-by a handful of talented new men like himself. That was the tradition, and Caesar’s position was a clear violation of this senatorial ideal.22

  Many senators were willing to tolerate Caesar’s exceptional power as long as the crisis and the threat of renewed civil war remained, but as soon as this was removed were desperate for a return to normality and the prominence of their own class. Brutus met Caesar as the latter passed through Cisalpine Gaul on his way back to Italy and felt that he ‘was going over to the good men’-one of those expressions like ‘best men’, which always meant those allied and of like mind to the speaker. Cicero thought the view absurdly naive. It is probable that Caesar had at the same meeting promised Brutus the praetorship for 44 BC and the consulship as soon as he was old enough in 41 BC, which may have contributed to his enthusiasm. Brutus had always shown great respect for his uncle Cato, but this had grown markedly since his uncle had chosen to die rather than accept clemency like his nephew. He divorced his wife, who was a daughter of Appius Claudius-the man himself had died of natural causes early on in the Macedonian campaign – and instead married Cato’s daughter Porcia. Marriage between cousins was not that uncommon amongst Rome’s elite. Porcia was the widow of Bibulus and thus had an even greater association with Caesar’s most bitter opponents. In 46 BC Brutus wrote a book entitled Cato, which was a fiercely eulogistic work in praise of his uncle. Cicero claimed it was sloppily researched and was annoyed that Cato’s role in the debate over the Catilinarian rebels was exaggerated and his own part played down. Nevertheless, at Brutus’ urging, Cicero was persuaded to write his own Cato, which focused on the latter’s personal virtue and steadfastness rather than his political career, for he was eager not to cause Caesar too much offence. This was also easier in other respects, since in the past Cicero had often doubted Cato’s judgement in public life. He was subsequently delighted when he was shown a letter from Caesar in which the latter declared that through studying Cicero’s book he had improved his own literary style. In contrast he said that reading Brutus’ Cato made him feel like a better writer himself.23

  Within months of his suicide, one of Caesar’s bitterest opponents was being held up as the ideal of aristocratic virtue in books which were openly circulated and widely praised. One was written by an ex-consul who was acknowledged as Rome’s foremost living orator, and the other by Brutus, widely believed to be the foremost of the up and coming men of his generation. When Sulla was dictator no-one would have dared to praise one of his enemies in this way. Yet from the beginning Caesar had declared that he would not emulate Sulla, and did not deviate from this now. When the books were released he found time to read them, but was too busy with the campaign against Cnaeus Pompeius to do anything about it. Instead he ordered Hirtius to collect material and produce his own book criticising Cato. After defeating the Pompeians, Caesar then used this as a basis for writing his own Anticato. The work has not survived, but it was clearly highly abusive. It claimed that when Cato cremated his half brother he had adorned the body in fine clothes and precious metals, but subsequently had the ashes sieved to retrieve the melted gold. This may have been simple invention, but Cato’s lifestyle had been highly eccentric and did offer much material for Caesar to work with. One of the oddest episodes of his life was his decision to divorce the wife who had given him a number of children, so that his friend the famous orator Hortensius could marry her and have offspring of his own. Hortensius was fabulously wealthy, and when he died a littl
e later, Cato remarried the widow, and thus resumed what had always been a successful marriage and at the same time brought a lot of property and money into the family. Such behaviour was at best strange, or – as Caesar averred-deeply cynical.

  It is tempting to see flashes of personal anger in the Anticato, although it is worth remembering that political invective at Rome was often wildly exaggerated and frequently vulgar. Cato had hated Caesar bitterly, had frustrated him in a number of their public encounters and, finally, had played a major part in causing the Civil War. ‘They wanted this’ – Caesar’s comment at Pharsalus could most of all be applied to Cato, the man whose implacable hostility had, he felt, forced him to cross the Rubicon, to fight and to kill so many fellow citizens and tear the Roman world apart. From his point of view there was reason enough to loathe Cato, or if not the man himself, then what he felt the man had made him do. Perhaps there was an emotional element adding to the invective of the Anticato, but the most significant part of the whole episode was that Caesar contented himself with simply writing this response. He did not in any way withdraw his friendship from either Cicero or Brutus, but sought instead to persuade educated Romans not to idolise Cato. In this he failed, for as an ideal of stern virtue and unflinching constancy Cato was much easier to revere than he had been as a living, active politician.24

  Caesar’s regime was not repressive and, for all his flashes of temper and jibes at the dead Cato, or the living Pontius Aquila, it did not become any more harsh after Munda. Yet discontent remained widespread. Cicero wrote a draft letter of advice on how to reform and restore the Republic, but took care to show it to Oppius and Balbus before sending it to Caesar. They suggested so many alterations that he felt unable to complete the task. When he heard of Brutus’ optimism about Caesar’s intention to join the good men, with black humour he wondered how this would be achieved ‘unless he hangs himself’. The Civil War was over, problems long neglected were being addressed so that large numbers of people were better off than they had been for a long time. Rome itself now enjoyed a peace and stability that had rarely been its lot for more than a decade. Yet the scars of the war were deep. So many had died-especially amongst the famous names of the Senate – and some of those who lived had to cope with the consequences of their decisions during those turbulent years. Caesar had employed clemency and political skill to win over the neutrals and his defeated opponents, but ultimately his position had been gained through military force. In a way the situation had much in common with the creation of a settlement in conquered Gaul. Caesar had to persuade his fellow citizens, especially the aristocratic elite, that tolerating his dominance was preferable to opposing it. This was the final test.25

  XXIII

  THE IDES OF MARCH

  ‘Caesar gave the impression to some of his friends that he did not wish to live any longer, and took no precautions due to his failing health…. Some also say that he declared that it was more important for the Republic than himself to go on living; for he had already ample glory and power; however, if anything happened to him, there would be no peace for the State, which would relapse into civil war of a much worse kind.’ – Suetonius, early second century AD.1

  ‘I have lived long enough for either nature or glory.’ – Caesar, 46 BC.2

  At the beginning of 44 BC Caesar was fifty-six. It would be surprising if the effort of so many years on campaign had not taken some toll on his system, and Suetonius speaks of failing health. However, there is no good evidence to suggest that his epilepsy had grown worse and certainly his great energy does not seem to have declined. By Roman standards he was well past the prime of life, but there was no particular reason why he should not have lived on for another fifteen or twenty years, and perhaps even longer. Caesar did not expect to die in March 44 BC and the men who killed him were obviously not confident that nature would do their work for them in the near future. The dictator’s death was sudden and unanticipated by all but the conspirators. Therefore, to look at Caesar and the regime he created is inevitably to examine something that was incomplete and still developing. Augustus would hold supreme power for over four decades and the system he created had time to evolve very gradually. It is ultimately impossible to know what Caesar planned to do and how successful this might have been. Rumours-often very wild ones-about his intentions were rife during his lifetime and after his death even more confusion was added by the energetic propaganda campaigns maintained by the opposing sides during the ensuing civil wars. It is especially unfortunate that Cicero’s letters for the first three months of 44 BC were never published, leaving no contemporary literary evidence from this vital period.

  Inevitably some doubt must remain over many of Caesar’s long-term aims, but one thing that is clear is that he expected to be away from Rome and Italy for at least three years. The conspirators struck when they did because they knew that the dictator was to leave the city in a few days time to set out for fresh campaigns. This time his opponents would be foreign and so the glory won by their defeat unambiguous. First he would strike against the Dacians under their King Burebista, fighting the Balkan war which he had probably anticipated in 58 BC. He may well have hoped to complete this campaign by the end of the year. After that he would move against the Parthians, for Crassus’ defeat at Carrhae was still unavenged. More recently the Parthians had again invaded Syria and given support to a renegade Pompeian who was intent on reviving the Civil War. The Parthian war was envisaged on a massive scale, for Caesar had given orders for sixteen legions supported by 10,000 cavalry to be massed. A planned canal through the isthmus of Corinth, although also expected to foster trade, seems to have been intended to help maintain supply lines to the theatre of operations. Plutarch tells us that a Greek architect had been appointed to this project, but it seems unlikely to have progressed beyond the theoretical stage before it was abandoned on Caesar’s death. It appears that the defeat of Parthia was widely considered to be desirable-there had, of course, been speculation that either Pompey or Caesar should be sent there in the build-up to the Civil War. Caesar is said to have planned to begin cautiously, learning as much about the enemy and their way of fighting as possible before launching an attack in earnest. It is not clear whether he planned to conquer Parthia or merely inflict a serious defeat on its king, which would force him to accept peace on Roman terms. There were fantastic stories that he planned to return by a wide circuit, marching around the Caspian Sea through what would become southern Russia and conquering the German tribes on his way back to Gaul, but this conflicts with the otherwise methodical tone of the planning. It is also obvious that this would inevitably have taken longer than three years. It is possible that the idea of an eastern war was made more attractive to Caesar by its associations with Alexander the Great, but there is simply no good evidence to suggest that he had become prey to such megalomaniac dreams. It is obviously impossible to say whether or not his Parthian campaign would have succeeded. Caesar’s past military achievements suggest that it would, as long as his energy and skill-not to mention his good fortune – had not altogether abandoned him. Yet the Parthians were formidable opponents and gave Mark Antony a severe mauling when he attacked them six years later. Augustus preferred diplomacy, backed by threat of force, to open warfare and achieved a satisfactory peace on his eastern frontier. His success – and the failure of later emperors to win a complete victory over Parthia-does not necessarily mean that Caesar’s planned operation was doomed to failure.3