The Sword of Rome

by Jeremiah McCall

  The best explanation, as hollow as it might seem, is that elections were simply unpredictable affairs then as they are now. The voters simply preferred Gracchus and Albinus. One might have thought that those with the best military records were most likely to win high office. The relationship between a reputation for virtus, a martial quality, a victorious military record and election to high office seems commonsensical; in reality, any such connection is very murky to us, and no doubt was to the Romans themselves. Certainly a reputation for virtus, that abstract quality of Roman manliness, could qualify one to be selected as a senator; Buteo demonstrated this in 216 when he selected new senators from among those common citizens who had earned honours in battle. Surely, all else being equal, such a reputation might help one win election. Nevertheless, throughout the Republic, Roman voters often did not prefer the candidate with the superior military record. What’s more, they seem to have had a marked indifference to holding an aristocrat’s military failures against them in any future bids for high office,68 Instead tending to explain defeat in terms of angry gods and insufficiently virtuous soldiers. It is worth remembering in this context that Marcellus was not the only highly successful commander passed over in the elections. Quintus Fabius Maximus, the dictator of 217 who had waged a successful campaign of attrition against Hannibal, during which the Romans lost no significant battles and kept Italy essentially under their control, was also passed over in the elections.

  Indeed, the striking feature of the administrative arrangements for 215 was not that the voters elected others instead of Marcellus; it was that the senate did not plan any military command for Marcellus in the upcoming year, even after disaster struck. The consul-elect Albinus, it seems, led his army into a Gallic ambush in the forest. His army was routed and Albinus himself was killed in the fighting. On a fascinatingly gruesome note, the victorious Boii turned Albinus’ skull into a gold-adorned drinking cup for religious ceremonies.69 After word of the disaster reached Rome, Gracchus, still master of horse, called a meeting of the senate. Gracchus reported on the status of the dictator Pera’s troops, Marcellus made a similar report, and the status of the consul Varro’s forces in Apulia was ascertained. The senate determined to send the forces under Pera – the city legions, freedmen and convicts – to join Varro. Varro, the commander during the disaster at Cannae, was to remain in command of his forces. Those who had served with Marcellus for the past few months from the army at Cannae, however, were sentenced – indeed Livy’s account of the decree reads like a sentence – to serve in Sicily until the war in Italy ended. Other troop redistributions were made. Ultimately, however, there seems to have been no army left for Marcellus. So the senate took Marcellus’ army away, decreed that the consul Varro would have his command extended as consul for an additional year, and made no such provisions for Marcellus.70 This was no accident or oversight. Marcellus had not been elected to office; by not extending his tenure of imperium the senate had deliberately arranged for the end of his military command.

  It is important to avoid the mistake that is so often made for groups in general, however, of treating the senate as a body of one mind and purpose. Quite the contrary; the senate was composed of proud Roman aristocrats, each of whom not only had their own opinion on how best to manage the affairs of the Republic, but also kept at least some watch on how different courses of action would affect their own reputation and honour and those of their families in an intensely competitive political system. So there was significant room for disagreements in the senate. For practical purposes, however, many of the conflicting opinions on the topics of the day might never be heard, let alone voted upon. Discussion in the senate was led by the consuls, who gave preference of speaking to those of highest rank first: assuredly former consuls and praetors, possibly, according to some historians, former censors and dictators at the front of the line. Though the junior senators could speak when their turn came, and all could vote, if the most powerful men, the lead speakers, reached a rough consensus, that consensus of the few might well become the voice of the senate on the issue in place of a vote.71 Tradition and the social hierarchy reinforced by tradition dictated that the senate, once senators had arrived at a decision, spoke with a unified voice. When the statement is made from Livy’s record that the senate gave no place to Marcellus in the military arrangement for 215 while extending Varro’s command, then, what is really being said is that those senators who were most able to control and shape the decisions of that session did not see fit to grant Marcellus a command. They hardly constituted the whole of the senate, however.

  Much as it would be illuminating to know if anyone in the senate deliberately moved debate so that Marcellus’ command was not continued, there is too little evidence to go on. Fabius Maximus could hardly have been a fan of Marcellus and was a very senior senator with an important role in leading senatorial debate. That is not enough to prove that he made any special effort to end Marcellus’ command. In addition, the consul Tiberius Sempronius Gracchus presided over that particular meeting of the senate and could have influenced the discussion.72 Again, however, there is no evidence that Gracchus opposed Marcellus. Perhaps a better way of envisioning the matter is not that anyone actively opposed a continued command for Marcellus, but that no one who offered opinions during that session suggested his command be continued; without an official extension of his command, it would lapse.

  If that had been the end of the matter it would seem the aristocracy had checked the prestige of one of its own, limiting Marcellus’ continued political rise by taking no action to extend his command. As it happened, the voters in the assembly, a sufficient number of them in any event, were not willing to stand by while Marcellus was retired from the field. When March came and the new magistrates for the year entered office, the assembly voted Marcellus the command that the senate had not seen fit to give. Here was an instance where Marcellus’ reputation worked to his advantage. Ordinarily, prorogation was the result of a senatorial decision and the assembly simply confirmed the senatorial appointments.73 In this instance, however, the assembly granted Marcellus his command despite the senate leaders who had passed him over that year. That this was something outside the ordinary handling of such affairs is preserved in Livy’s wording: ‘That Marcus Marcellus should have full military authority as proconsul was ordered by the people, because he alone of the Roman commanders since the disaster at Cannae had met with success in Italy.’74 In other words, Marcellus received a rare honour from the assembly of Roman voters. This can hardly have endeared him to his detractors, those who had been satisfied with letting his command lapse.

  In a very real sense Marcellus had managed to override the decision of the senate or, more precisely, his rivals in the senate. This could not have happened, however, without the support of at least one official. Citizen assemblies were not allowed to meet of their own volition; they had to be summoned by the appropriate magistrate. Furthermore, the assemblies of the Republic, unlike the more democratic Athens of the fifth century BC, were not places of debate and discussion. When the assembly gathered it was presented a motion by the presiding official. It was the right of the assembly to pass the motion, making it a law binding for all Romans, or reject it. For Marcellus to have been granted an extraordinary prorogation of his command by a vote of the people meant that a magistrate, a senator, had taken the initiative to present the motion to the assembly. Apparently, there was a fair amount of disagreement in the senate over Marcellus’ right to command. Enough so, in fact, that a magistrate countered the implied wishes of the senate and proposed an extended command for Marcellus. That magistrate may have been reacting to a critical mass of senators who wished Marcellus to remain in command; as will soon be clear, there were certainly many who felt that way in the senate. Alternatively, the magistrate may have been responding to a popular groundswell of support for Marcellus in the city.

  The matter of Marcellus’ command was far from settled. The senator and indeed all Romans were
bound to follow a motion passed by the assembly; Marcellus was now a proconsul for the year. His first assignment for the year, however, was of dubious importance for a Roman of his stature and authority. The two city legions had been ordered to muster for the year at Cales in Campania. Marcellus was assigned to meet these legions at Cales and chaperone them to the Claudian Camp. From there, the praetor Appius Claudius’ subordinate would take the army to Sicily.75 This was hardly the type of military command those who had voted proconsular authority to Marcellus had envisioned.

  Only after Marcellus had left the city on this errand did preparations begin to fill the consulship left empty by Postumius Albinus. This was simply too much for Marcellus’ supporters. Livy suggests that murmurs began to rise in the senate, some senators openly suggesting that Marcellus had been removed on purpose to prevent him standing for the consulship.76 Between the magistrate who had called the assembly to grant Marcellus’ command and the murmurings in the senate, although an admittedly vague attribution, it is apparent Marcellus had supporters perhaps no less significant than his detractors. According to Livy, the consul Gracchus moved to quash such grumblings, assuring the senators that the elections would not be held until Marcellus could return from his assignment.77 Gracchus may have shared the sentiments of Marcellus’ supporters, or he simply may have chosen to stop a political squabble that was growing before it became a liability to the war effort. He was certainly not opposed to Marcellus being consul if, as Livy suggested, he told the senate anything remotely along the lines of:

  Both acts were to the advantage of the state, fellow-senators, that Marcus Claudius should be sent to Campania to make the change of armies and that the coming election should not be proclaimed until he, after accomplishing the task which was assigned him, should return thence, so that you might have the consul whom the critical situation in the state requires and whom you particularly desire.78

  Plutarch, however, suggests that neither Gracchus nor the other magistrates wanted to postpone the election and only did so at the demand of the people. Perhaps, but Livy’s account is more plausible in that it recognizes that Marcellus had political support within the senate and explains in a way that Plutarch does not, how it came to be that elections were actually delayed. Either way, the matter was tabled until Marcellus returned. For the moment, those who had opposed a command for Marcellus were stymied.

  It would be so very illuminating to know Marcellus’ role in these maneuvers, or even his personal feelings on the matter. Suffice to say, while he must have been pleased to find supporters willing to make waves on his behalf, there is absolutely no evidence that Marcellus himself publicly stirred the pot or in any way openly challenged the authority of the senate, regardless of whether it was led by his opponents. Marcellus was consistent in this approach. The consummate political player, he couched his achievements, as essentially every successful Roman aristocrat did, in terms of service to the Republic. The fact that he personally and publicly benefited from the offices and the honours, awards, and glory that accrued from them, to his Roman aristocrat’s mind, in no way undermined his claim to be seeking only to serve the Republic. It would strain credulity to suppose Marcellus did not privately voice his frustrations and hopes to trusted friends and associates, and it is only reasonable to suppose he encouraged those who wanted to support his political ambitions. Nevertheless, it would seem that he toed the line of respect for the institutions and procedures of the Republic very carefully and very well, even as he accumulated an unprecedented set of honours.

  The extent of Marcellus’ ability to challenge powerful institutions and rivals when they limited his ambitions while wholeheartedly claiming – and almost assuredly believing – that his actions were in the best tradition of service to the Republic becomes clearer when one considers that Postumius Albinus was a patrician and Marcellus was a plebeian. When Albinus died, Gracchus was inaugurated; the Republic had its plebeian consul and a rigid tradition dictated that there be one and only one plebeian consul every year – with a patrician colleague. What Marcellus’ supporters were proposing, a proposal with which Marcellus clearly agreed, was nothing short of a major constitutional innovation in a society where innovation was often not regarded kindly. If he were elected to replace Albinus, the Republic would have two plebeian consuls. The exact legality of such a thing is murky. It is far from clear that the law opening both consulships to plebeians actually took place in 342 as recorded by Livy; it may have only come to be in the early second century. Nor is it clear there was any explicit law against having two plebeian consuls once the fourth century laws were passed requiring one consul be plebeian.79 It is abundantly clear, however, from the lists of consuls elected every year that tradition dictated one consul be plebeian and one patrician until the early second century. What was Marcellus thinking in putting his name in for consideration to the consulship? Perhaps he did not; perhaps like the prorogation, his supporters considered him without his direct instigation. Whatever the case may be, others clearly felt Marcellus deserved the office since he was elected by a ‘great consensus’ of voters, as Livy says. For the first time, two plebeians had been elected to serve as consuls.80 When Marcellus dedicated the spolia opima, seven years earlier, he claimed to have earned a exceptionally rare honour to be sure, but one that had some precedent. There was no precedent for two plebeian consuls and good reason to suspect that many would be upset by the innovation.

  Strange as it may seem to modern readers, just as Marcellus entered office, thunder was heard, a well-recognized omen from the gods. It was not for just any Roman to determine whether the gods had sent a bad omen when it pertained to the welfare of the Republic as a whole. The college of augurs was the body of priests charged with determining whether the signs from the gods had been negative, usually during sacrifices, but also in cases like thunder and other celestial messages. They were summoned, considered the omen, and declared that there had been a flaw in the election, though it appears they did not specify exactly what the cause of the flaw was. It is tantalizing to note that Marcellus himself was an augur. Questions arise: Did he take part in the discussion of the thunderclap? It certainly fell under his jurisdiction as an augur. Had he heard the thunder? So long as someone of sufficient authority had heard the thunder or persuasively claimed to have done so, it did not matter. Did he agree with the consensus opinion of the other augurs that the thunder represented a flawed election? He had established a reputation of attending carefully to the gods and he may have persisted in that stance. Or perhaps the augurs silenced his objections? Regardless of how the augurs came to their conclusions, if indeed they did not specify exactly why the gods were upset, a number of senators were happy to offer an obvious interpretation: The gods were angered by the election of a second plebeian consul.81

  It is important to understand the nature of their objection. In the days of the foundation of Rome there were two classes of Romans: patricians, who were the nobility, and plebeians, who were everyone else. When the Republic was created, it was essentially the result of the patricians chafing under the restrictions of a monarchy and wanting to establish a political system where they wielded greater power and influence. Hence in the earliest Republic the patricians alone were eligible for the highest magistracies. For the first century and a half of the Republic or so, there were a number of social and political conflicts between the plebeians and patricians. While the exact nature of the conflict is as hazy as everything else in that early period, it appears that the poorest plebeians wanted a set of legal protections, particularly involving matters like debt, so that they could not be oppressed by wealthier creditors. The wealthier plebeians – and there were a number who had wealth but chanced not to be born into the noble patrician families – wanted a share in the political power and prestige that the patricians had gained. In other words, they wanted access to the political offices. The details of this struggle need not detain us here.82 What is most important is that somewhere in the middle of the
fourth century a law was passed guaranteeing that one of the consuls every year from then on would be plebeian. This was a major concession from the patricians for it meant that their supply of consulships was cut in half.

  By Marcellus’ day the distinctions between patricians and plebeians that held political office had faded to a certain extent, and a patrician-plebeian aristocracy of office holders and senators had been well established.83 The practice that one consul would be patrician and one plebeian, however, was a tradition. Or to look at it another way, there had never been two plebeian consuls. The Romans, like all ancient peoples, took their traditions seriously. After all, the world was a dangerous place. In the absence of modern industry, science, technology, and medicine, bad weather could kill by destroying crops, childbirth was far too frequently lethal to mother and child, and minor bacterial infections could prove fatal. With so many fewer solutions to the problems that all humans face, the effective practices of ancestors, tested and confirmed through the centuries, were the generally accepted means of making sure individuals and the commonwealth survived in a dangerous world. Many of these practices revolved around placating the gods. By observing the proper rituals, prayers, and sacrifices, the Romans generally hoped to maintain the goodwill of the gods as protection against the dangers of the world. Failure to respect the gods could turn them against the commonwealth with devastating effect.