Caesar. Life of a Colossus (Adrian Goldsworthy) Yale University Press (46 page)

In 59 BC the two wealthiest and most influential men in Rome had joined together to achieve their immediate aims, using Caesar as their tool to overcome opposition that until then had proved too solid. Pompey had secured his Eastern Settlement and provided land for his veterans, while Crassus had renegotiated the tax-farmers’ contracts. Both men were satisfied, as was Caesar with his land reform and military command, but only for the moment, and each of the triumvirs had further ambitions for the future. Ultimately, like all Roman politicians, their aims were personal and individual. It had suited each man’s purpose to combine their efforts for a while, permitting a degree of success that none could have managed on his own. Yet it was not an alliance built on deep roots of shared ideology or commitment to a cause, and would last only so long as each man felt himself to be better off remaining loyal to the other two rather than splitting from them. Caesar’s relations with both of the others were cordial, which is not to say that he or they would never contemplate turning against former allies. In spite of his recent successes in Gaul, he was still the junior partner and had most stake in a continued association with the other two, especially as they were still in Rome and he was not. Pompey and Crassus were never close since, in the end, they disliked each other intensely and the rivalry that had been such a feature of their lives was only ever just below the surface. Working together with a consul like Caesar as their agent, they had been able to get what they wanted, although not without a struggle. The consuls for 58 BC were favourably inclined towards the triumvirs, but neither man had Caesar’s ability or drive. No one else at Rome could match Pompey’s and 254

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Crassus’ wealth, fame and
auctoritas
, but these things gave a man influence more than power, and even in combination the two men could not permanently control every aspect of public life. Cato would not be muzzled, and he and other members of the ‘good’ (
boni
) or ‘best’ (
optimates
) men also had reputations, wealth and clients. So did many other ambitious men with aims of their own. How men felt towards the triumvirs as a group or as individuals was only one factor influencing their behaviour, and often it was a minor one. Office-holders, especially those able to preside over meetings of the Senate or assemblies, had the opportunity to act in a way always denied to other senators, no matter how eminent. In 70 BC Pompey and Crassus had restored full powers to the tribunes of the plebs. Now it was from this office most of all that challenges would come to their recent dominance.
The ‘Patrician’ Tribune of the Plebs

Pompey and Caesar – presumably with Crassus’ approval – had arranged the transfer of Publius Clodius Pulcher from patrician to plebian status in 59 BC

(see pp.176–7). It would be wrong then or later to see him as their man, just as it would be mistaken to view Caesar as Pompey’s or Crassus’ man. They had done him a favour and, by convention, he was expected to be grateful and willing to assist them in return, but by no stretch of the imagination could he be seen as under their control. In part this was simply because Roman politics was ultimately a question of individual success, but had even more to do with his fiercely independent character. No one else could ever really control Clodius, or for that matter Caesar, Pompey, Crassus, Cato, Cicero or any other leading senator. His family was one of the greatest patrician houses, which unlike the Julii had managed to remain at the heart of the Republic for generation after generation, producing a long succession of consuls and famous statesmen. The pride or arrogance of the Claudii was proverbial, reinforced by the tales of men like the Publius Claudius Pulcher who had led a Roman fleet to disaster during the First Punic War. Before the battle he had been annoyed when the sacred chickens had refused to eat up their meal in the approved manner, which would have demonstrated that the gods favoured the Romans and that their attack on the Carthaginian fleet would succeed. Publius had promptly picked the birds up and tossed them over the side of his flagship, declaring that ‘if they would not eat, then they would drink’. A few years later his sister was frustrated by the crowds that slowed her litter as she was carried through the streets of Rome and 255

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loudly wished that her brother would go and drown some more of the poor. Though the Claudii were not always especially liked, they were always important. Although he might have officially become a plebian, Clodius remained in everyone’s mind a Claudian and enjoyed the
auctoritas
of the name, and the solid support of clients and other connections built up by a great patrician house over the centuries.3

The Claudii promoted themselves just like any aristocratic family. Clodius’

father died when he was young and the family was headed by his oldest brother Appius Claudius Pulcher, who was obsessed with maintaining their prestige. Simply because of their name the Claudii could not be ignored, but the flamboyance of this generation made them a powerful force in the public life of the city. There was also strength in numbers. Clodius had another brother, Caius, as well as three sisters, each of whom had been married off to a husband from a prominent family. One of the three was immortalised as the Lesbia of Catullus’ poems, the lover with whom he shared a brief, passionate and adulterous affair, but whose subsequent rejection of him inspired some of his bitterest verses. Publius was the youngest of the six children, and perhaps the wildest, although all of them had a popular reputation both for unpredictable behaviour and for their scandalous sexual exploits. The Bona Dea scandal had shown Clodius’ contempt for sacred tradition, but his subsequent exoneration had shown that he was a survivor, and a man to be reckoned with. Apart from his adulterous liaisons, it was widely rumoured that he had enjoyed incestuous relationships with each of his sisters. This was publicly stated by one of their husbands, Marcus Lucullus, when he finally divorced her. It may have been no more than malicious rumour, a number of other prominent Romans were accused of the same thing, but both at the time and since it was very difficult to be sure of anything with Clodius and his siblings. There was bad blood between him and the brothers Lucullus from the time Clodius had served on Lucius Lucullus’ staff in Asia. It was perfectly normal for young aristocrats to gain military experience under the command of a relative or friend, but Clodius was never one to be bound by convention and chose to lead a mutiny against his brother-in-law. Shortly afterwards, he transferred to the staff of the husband of another sister, and seems to have managed to complete his service without falling out with this man.4

No one can have been too sure just what Clodius planned to do when his tribunate began in December 59 BC. It may be that he had not yet made up his mind whether or not to fulfil his threat, made some months before, to attack Caesar’s legislation, but more probably this had been intended to let 256

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the triumvirs know that he could not be taken for granted. His chief aim was personal, to confirm his existing popularity amongst the population of Rome, and especially the less well-off citizens. To do this, his most important piece of legislation involved the wholesale reorganisation of the supply of State-subsidised grain to Italy, including the provision that citizens actually living in Rome would receive a regular dole of free corn. He also removed the ban imposed in 64 BC on the
collegia
–guilds or associations based on trade or regions within the city. Other reforms outlawed attempts to use unfavourable omens to block public business – a clear reference to Bibulus’

recent activity, although the law was not retrospective so did not actually overrule his declarations – and restricted the freedom of the censors to expel men from the Senate. All four bills were passed in early January 58

BC. The free grain was very popular with the urban plebs, and Clodius used the
collegia
to help organise his supporters. Having done a deal with the two new consuls to assist them in securing lucrative provinces – both men were in debt and needed a profitable command – he now decided to flex his muscles.5

Cicero was the first target, and soon discovered that all the assurances he had had from Pompey, and subsequently even from Clodius himself, were hollow. The execution of the conspirators in 63 BC was the chief charge against him. The attack began in early 58 BC, while Caesar was still just outside Rome – he could no longer enter the city since he had assumed his provincial command – watching events and defending himself against the attacks of two of the new praetors. A public meeting was held in the Circus Flaminius, a stadium for chariot racing that lay outside the formal boundary of Rome, so that Caesar could be present. However, his support for Clodius was limited. Caesar repeated his arguments from the debate over the fate of the conspirators, saying again that he did not feel that it was right for them to have been executed. However, he also added that it would be wrong to make retrospective legislation formally outlawing past actions in order to prosecute Cicero. Around the same time he repeated his offer for the orator to become one of his legates and so secure himself from prosecution. It would have been a considerable coup for Caesar if Cicero had accepted, for it would have placed the orator under a strong obligation to him. It would also have removed a powerful and potentially hostile voice from Rome. Cicero declined the offer, as well as the chance of an extraordinary legateship from the Senate to travel abroad on public business. His initial confidence then began to waver, as he realised that he could not count on Pompey’s support, nor on that of many leading senators whose loyalty he had expected. 257

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Too many of the great men had some link or other with the Claudii and saw no reason to break with Clodius on behalf of a ‘new man’. In the middle of March – roughly the same time that Caesar set out for Gaul – Cicero fled the city to go into voluntary exile, and soon passed into deep depression, blaming everyone else for his plight and lamenting his own momentary cowardice. Clodius had a bill passed formalising the expulsion and confiscating his property. His house was burned down by a mob of the tribune’s supporters and a shrine to the goddess of liberty (
Libertas
) set up on the site. Clodius had given a demonstration of his power by removing a famous ex-consul, even if he was a rather boastful ‘new man’ without strong family connections. Cato was sidelined more subtly, as the tribune arranged for him to be sent to oversee the incorporation of Cyprus into Rome’s empire. This wealthy kingdom had been annexed in part to pay for the new corn dole, and it was felt that the temptations open to the man appointed to oversee the business were so great that Rome’s most famously moral citizen must be sent. Cato accepted the honour, which further augmented his stern reputation, even though he doubtless realised the true motives behind it. He also effectively admitted that it was right for a tribune of the people such as Clodius to interfere in foreign affairs rather than permitting the Senate its traditional control of this sphere.6

The Cyprus business was something of an insult to Pompey, for it altered some of the settlement that he had imposed on the East. A far greater humiliation came when Clodius arranged the escape of the son of the King of Armenia, held as a hostage in Pompey’s household. The tribune also turned his gangs on the consul Gabinius, beating him up and smashing his fasces, simply because he had taken Pompey’s side in the dispute. By the summer of 58 BC Clodius began openly questioning the validity of Caesar’s legislation as consul, calling Bibulus as a witness in a public meeting to testify against his former colleague. It was a remarkable return to his position in April of the previous year, and cheerfully ignored the question mark this would then raise over his own plebian status and right to hold the office of tribune. In June Pompey encouraged the Senate to vote for the recall of Cicero, but the motion was vetoed. In August Clodius arranged for one of his slaves to let fall a dagger at a public meeting and under interrogation he claimed to have been sent to murder Pompey. The latter was a brave man on the battlefield but had a deep-rooted terror of assassination, which was perhaps unsurprising given the events he had witnessed in his youth. He retired to his house and stayed there for several months. Clodius lost some of his power when his term of office as tribune expired, and this encouraged 258

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a revival of efforts to recall Cicero. He still had his gangs of followers based on the
collegia
, and these were frequently used to threaten his opponents or break up meetings. Pompey replied by backing two of the new tribunes, Titus Annius Milo and Publius Sestius, who formed their own groups of thugs with which to combat Clodius’ men. Both sides included many gladiators amongst their bands and at times there were large-scale battles with killed and wounded on both sides. These disturbances were more frequent, on a larger scale and far more violent than the struggles during Caesar’s consulship. Pompey also toured Italy, visiting his many clients and urging them to come to Rome and support a law to recall Cicero. In the summer of 57 BC the Senate passed a decree to this effect, with only Clodius voting against the motion, and the decision was promptly ratified by the People.7

After some initial reluctance Caesar had followed Pompey’s example and urged his clients by letter to support the move. From the start he had not especially desired Cicero’s exile, although he had wanted to prevent the orator from continuing to lend his weight to the attacks on the legislation he had pushed through as consul. Now there was a chance to put Cicero under obligation to him by backing his cause, and Caesar characteristically seized on it. His initial hesitation – Publius Sestius travelled to his province at one point to convince him – may well have been intended to make sure that Cicero was aware of the debt that he would owe. Moving the vote of thanksgiving in the Senate and other public statements were proof that this had worked. There was an even greater debt to Pompey – though never quite enough to erase the memory of his failure to protect him in the first place