039 - The Young Julius Caesar Chronicles

Hello, and welcome to the History of Rome, episode 39, The Young Julius Caesar Chronicles. Last time, we covered Catiline's ill-fated conspiracy during the consulship of Cicero in 63 BC. This week, I want to backtrack a bit and fill in some of the gaps on our way to the formation of the alliance between Pompey, Crassus, and Julius Caesar in 60 BC, now called the First Triumvirate. In the aftermath of Spartacus' slave revolt, Pompey and Crassus had served as co-consuls, and though they functioned well enough publicly, personally, they were bitter rivals, or at least Crassus was bitter rivals with Pompey. I'm not really sure how much thought Pompey ever gave to Crassus. After their shared consulship, they were glad to be rid of each other. It was not until a decade later that they were brought together again, this time by a man who would soon be consul himself and desperately needed allies in his coming flame war with the senate, Gaius Julius Caesar.

And when I say fill in some gaps, it turns out what I really meant is write a sprawling double-length episode on Caesar's early career. Gaius Julius Caesar was born in 100 BC into the ancient patrician Julii family. Though the family traced their lineage back to Aeneas, and thus to the goddess Venus herself, they had, in recent generations, fallen on hard times. While they always maintained respectability, they had long since passed to the margins of Roman political life. Caesar's particular branch was on the margins of Roman economic life as well, and the boy grew up in a neighborhood called the Subaru, which was far, both geographically and culturally, from the estates of his fellow patrician nobles on the Palatine Hill. I think it goes without saying that being raised in what amounted to a tenement building owned by his parents had a great impact on Caesar's later populist politics. Yes, he had impeccable patrician credentials, but Caesar would always identify himself with the common man and position himself as their champion.

His childhood and early career were defined by two women, his mother, Aurelia, and his aunt Julia. With his father, also named Gaius Julius Caesar, forever away on state business and dead by the time Caesar was fifteen, it was up to his mother to raise him. An intelligent, independent woman, highly regarded in Rome at the time, and held up as the ideal Roman woman by later historians, she came from a family of consuls and made sure that her son had the education and grooming necessary to follow in the footsteps of his maternal forefathers. The other great woman in Caesar's life was his aunt Julia, who was married to none other than our old friend, Gaius Marius. The marriage had been a boon to both families, as Marius needed patrician endorsement to keep his political career moving forward, and the Julii needed the money and fame that Marius brought with him. Though Caesar and Marius probably had limited contact with one another, the marriage joined Caesar at the hip to Marius politically, in some years for better, and in some years, obviously, for the worse. It is a testament, though, to the esteem Julia was held in, that when Sulla returned to Rome, the wife of his worst enemy, and mother of the young man he had so recently defeated on the battlefield, was herself left off the prescription lists.

Caesar's first step into public life was very nearly his last. At the age of sixteen, while Cinna ruled Rome and Sulla was off fighting Mithridates, Caesar was named Flamandialus, or Priest of Jupiter. One of the oldest priesthoods in Rome, it was also smothered by archaic and bizarre traditions that, among other things, required the priest to wear a pointed hat at all times, forbade him from seeing a dead body, riding a horse, wearing knots on his clothing, or, critically, being absent from the city for even a single night. It also required that the priest be married to a patrician, so Caesar was arranged to be married to the daughter of Cinna, which, briefly, made him the son-in-law to the most powerful man in Rome. Not that this connection would do him any good personally, of course, as the appointment to the Flamandialus precluded any political or military career. Luckily for the ambitious Caesar, the appointment was for life. But really luckily for Caesar, Sulla returned and the appointment was nullified.

The new dictator cleared the city of his enemies, and he had no use for Cinna's son-in-law and Marius' nephew in any public position. He demanded further that Caesar divorce Cornelia, Cinna's daughter, but in an act of reckless or bold defiance, depending on your point of view, Caesar refused. After this, Sulla decided that he had no use for Cinna's son-in-law and Marius' nephew, period, and young Caesar found his name on the prescription list. At the age of nineteen, Caesar ran for his life into the Italian countryside, hiding out with sympathetic relatives and keeping on the move. But in the city, his mother, representative Vestal Virgins, and allies of Sulla with familial connections to the young fugitive, pleaded with Sulla to remove Caesar's name from the list. Finally, with his hold on power more secure, Sulla let himself be persuaded and Caesar was allowed to come out of hiding.

In 80 BC, the twenty-year-old Caesar knew that he was borrowing trouble by remaining in the city and got himself attached to the military staff of the governor of Asia. He would keep his head down and try to advance his career abroad, at least until Sulla was gone and the coast was truly clear. In Asia, Caesar served with distinction and was awarded the civic crown for his role in winning the siege of Medellin. For the rest of his life, whenever he wore the simple oak wreath, all men, from the lowliest beggar to the greatest senator, would be required to stand when he entered a public festival. Caesar loved wearing the crown, delighting in how much it annoyed his senatorial enemies to stand respectfully in acknowledgment of what a brave soldier and all-around wonderful guy he was.

But the siege of Medellin would also prove the source of persistent glee for those same enemies. In order to break the resistance of the city, which was located on Turkey's Aegean coast, the Romans needed naval reinforcement. Caesar was sent to Bithynia to request aid from King Nicomedes, who, you will recall, will die in a few years, leaving his kingdom to Rome and touching off the last Mithridatic War. But Caesar seems to have done a little too well on his mission, and lingered a little too long in Bithynia while doing it, and rumors began to fly that he had carried on an affair with King Nicomedes. Caesar denied it all his life, but it did not stop his enemies from referring to him as the Queen of Bithynia, nor did it stop graffiti from later showing up on the walls of Rome that read, Caesar conquered Gaul, but Nicomedes conquered Caesar.

When Sulla died in 78 BC, it was finally safe for Caesar in Rome, so he returned from Asia and began a legal career that would fill his time and enhance his reputation while he waited to begin the climb up the Cursus Honorum. Like Cicero, Caesar would make a name for himself as a distinguished orator, while combating the excessive corruption of greedy proconsuls. But unlike Cicero, his efforts were largely wasted on losing efforts, and his words were no match for the bribes his defendants used in order to avoid prosecution. But win or losing mattered little to Caesar in the long run. It was only important that powerful men acknowledged his oratorical skill, and that unimportant men knew that he was on their side.

In an effort to build on his natural rhetorical talent, Caesar arranged to be tutored in Rhodes by the same master Greek who had brought Cicero's skills to such great heights. But he never reached the city. Along the way, his ship was attacked by Cilician pirates. Caesar was captured and held for ransom, a typical and lucrative practice among the pirates of the day. The pirates took a liking to their hostage almost immediately. Discovering that they were asking only 20 talents for him, Caesar was outraged and demanded that they ask for no less than 50. The pirates agreed to this humorous demand, and Caesar sent away a few of his slaves to collect the money.

For the next 40 days, Caesar lived with the pirates, never once showing any sign of the terror the pirates were used to seeing in their victims. He ate his meals with them, participated in athletic contests, demanded that they keep it down while he was trying to sleep, and generally acted as if the whole affair was no big deal. He also joked that when he was free, he was going to raise a fleet, come back, and crucify the whole lot of them. They laughed of course, but when the ransom was paid and Caesar was let go, he immediately raised a fleet and did just that. He returned to his place of capture, sacked the hideout, and mercilessly crucified his former captors. Well, I shouldn't say mercilessly, he did slit their throats before posting them on the cross.

Caesar remained in Asia after his pirate adventure, and raised a local militia to help defend Roman interests from the allies of Mithridates, but was recalled to Rome in 73 to join a spot in the priesthood vacated by his recently deceased cousin. Unlike the restrictive Flamin Dialis, this new priesthood carried with it no arcane restrictions, and in the same year, Caesar was elected military tribune, his first official step in the cursus honorum. It is likely, though not verified, that Caesar served in Crassus' legions during the slave revolt during this time.

In 69, he took his next step and was elected quaestor for a term to be served in Spain. But before he left, he was hit with a tragedy, his aunt Julia passed away, and in response, the bold and unpredictable young man was, well, bold and unpredictable. It was customary for the head of the household, Caesar in this case, to deliver a funeral oration in the forum for the deceased matron. But Caesar took things one step further. Since the reign of Sulla, Gaius Marius had been legally declared persona non grata in Rome, and his likeness was banned from the public sphere. But funeral processions of noble women usually included a depiction of their husbands. Caesar never hesitated, and marched through the streets of Rome at the head of a column that bore with it images of Gaius Marius, images that had not been seen publicly for more than a decade.

Throughout the city, citizens and former soldiers began remembering Marius not for what he was in his final years, but for the great man who had picked beggars up from the slums and made them honorable soldiers, who had ended the needlessly extended war with Jugurtha, and who had defeated the invading Gauls. This procession marked the beginning of Marius' rehabilitation, and earned Caesar much acclaim from the common people for whom Marius had done so much. The conservative senate, who would have been fine never hearing the name Marius again, were annoyed, but there was little they could do to censor Caesar after the outpouring of goodwill from the masses.

But that wouldn't be the only tragedy that befell Caesar, nor the last time the people would embrace him before he left for Spain. Not long after Julio's death, Cornelia, the wife Caesar had defied Sulla to stand beside, suddenly died. There were traditions dictating who deserved funeral orations in the forum, and young women almost never qualified for the honor. But Caesar defied convention, and delivered a moving eulogy for Cornelia. Whether it was his intention, or just a lucky by-product, the common people of Rome were moved by his obvious grief-stricken love. This was not just another stoic noble, this was a man with a heart, a man of passion. They loved him for it.

Eventually Caesar did make it to Spain, and while there, began to set up a network of clients, subjects, and allies that would serve him well for the rest of his career. Wherever he went, Caesar brought with him a reputation for fair dealing, competent administration, and mercy. He always governed with a stern, but understanding hand. When Spanish debtors were being hounded into insolvency by their Roman creditors, for example, Caesar managed to broker a deal limiting the allowed wage garnishment percentage. But in his apparent populism, Caesar was savvy enough not to alienate the lenders who were a.) the men who could make or break his further political career, and b.) the very men who Caesar would be borrowing money from to advance that political career. The wage garnishment limit was thus set at 66%, enough that the lenders did not feel cheated but not so much that the borrowers were run out of their homes. It was the kind of practical administrative decision making that was the hallmark of Caesar's career.

Much is made of his military acumen, but he was as deft with legislation as he was with the sword. His laws, as we will see moving forward, were brilliantly written, impossible to attack, realistic in scope, and functional in implementation. Honestly, as dictators go, Julius Caesar was a man at least capable of doing the job right.

When his work in Spain was completed, Caesar made his way back to Rome along the Mediterranean coast through Gaul. On the European side of the Alps and then on the Italian side, Caesar moved slowly, lending a sympathetic ear to the populace, settling disputes, and generally ingratiating himself with the community. As in Spain, he earned a broad base of support that he could count on for the rest of his life, particularly, of course, during the Gallic campaigns a few years hence.

Back in Rome, Caesar remarried, this time choosing to the surprise of everyone, the granddaughter of Sulla. While the arrangement seemed to signal a shift towards more conservative policies, Caesar used the benefits of the familial ties he gained without letting it interfere with his populace politics. Savvy and unpredictable, 100% pure Caesar. His career continued to advance and he was placed in charge of the Appian Way, a highly covered administrative post, and then was elected Aedile. While serving in both functions, Caesar borrowed enormous sums of money to fund public works projects, festivals, gladiatorial games, and all manner of minor expenses. It was all for the good of Rome, and his career of course, but the scope of the debt was staggering, and Caesar's life would be defined for years by his running battles with, and sometimes literally running away from, his creditors.

It was during this period that his alliance with Crassus was really solidified. Anyone with half a brain could see that Caesar was a man on the rise, and Crassus was no dummy. Yes, he was rich beyond measure, but he lacked the kind of charisma that oozed out of Caesar. By patronizing the young noble, Crassus was making sure both that Caesar never became his enemy, and that some of the magic would rub off on old Scrooge McCrassus. And Caesar needed patronage. Numerous times, Crassus stepped in when Caesar's creditors were working themselves into a murderous frenzy and pledged himself as security against a fault. This would generally quell the immediate uproar, leaving Caesar free to continue planting his seed money across the Roman Empire. He wasn't just investing in any old career. As he once said to a compatriot while passing through a tiny village in Gaul, he would rather be the first man there than second man in Rome. Power of the kind Caesar sought was expensive.

But there was only so much Crassus could do to help. After his term as aedile, Caesar next needed a post that did not just push him further into the red, he needed to at least make some move towards the black. So in 63 BC, the same year as the Catalinian Conspiracy, he took the unprecedented step of running for Pontifex Maximus, the High Priest of Rome. It was not only an important position politically, but came with it numerous opportunities to generate personal income. The thing was, normally the Pontifex Maximus was an elderly statesman near the end of his career. It was unheard of for a man so young to aspire to the office. But Caesar needed to do something bold quickly, or he would be consumed by his debt.

Upon leaving for the Forum on the day of his election, Caesar told his mother, When I return, you will either find me High Priest or an exile. Melodrama aside, the outcome was in little doubt. Caesar had bribed all the key electors to ensure that democracy did not interfere with the election. This lifetime appointment greatly enhanced Caesar's reputation as well as his financial portfolio. It also came with it an official residence, which moved his family from the out-of-the-way home in the Subbaro he had known his whole life, right into the heart of the most prestigious neighborhood in Rome.

But the office of Pontifex Maximus was part-time at best, and did not preclude the officeholder from pursuing military or political office. So later in that same year, Caesar ran for, and won, the Praetorship, leaving him one step away from the highest office in Rome. Throughout this period, in his role both as High Priest and Praetor, Caesar openly supported the allies of Pompey in the Senate and popular assemblies. Pompey was wrapping up his eastern campaigns and sending home instructions that his conquests needed to be ratified and that his veterans would need land upon their return to Italy. Caesar had already distinguished himself as one of the few senators to support Pompey's grant of Mediterranean imperium to fight the pirates a few years earlier, and spent his time now backing whatever Pompey indicated he required. With his eye on the consulship, and his dreams of reforming practically everything about the way the empire was administered, Caesar was keenly aware of the need for powerful friends. His populous stances and obviously high ambition had won him no friends in the Senate. If he was going to do half of what he planned, he would need a way to blunt the obstructionist senators. Caesar recognized Pompey as the perfect ally, a wildly popular general who made the Senate as queasy as Caesar seemed to make them. By supporting Pompey now, Caesar hoped that when the general came home, the favor would be returned.

When his Praetorship ended, Caesar was named pro-consular governor of Hispania Ulterior, or Further Spain, a province that hugged the southern coast of Spain, from roughly modern day Valencia to the Atlantic. The governorship was a turning point in Caesar's career. It gave him his first crack at true military command, which, as you can imagine, he excelled at brilliantly, but it also set him up in a position to really make some money. Governorships of the provinces during this period was seen by most Roman politicians as their reward for the sacrifices and financial investments they had made on behalf of the state over the course of their careers. The personal milking of the provinces was not a scandal unless it reached egregious proportions. It was one of the things Caesar intended to change if he was ever given the chance. Anyone who thought about it could see that the annual arrival of some new governor who planned to make himself rich on the backs of the provincials was not a sustainable practice. Eventually, the cow would be milked dry. But while it was something Caesar intended to change, he had major, major debts to worry about. So upon arrival, he promptly picked a fight with the hill tribes in the west that had never been fully pacified and drove them off, seizing the lucrative silver mines they controlled at the same time.

This meant more revenue for the state, massive amounts of cash for Caesar himself, and, bonus, territorial expansion for the empire, the thing that triumphs are made of. And upon completion of this little war in Spain, Caesar demanded just that. The Senate had no desire to grant Caesar his triumph, but there was no denying what he had accomplished. But Caesar further indicated that he intended to run for the consulship that year as well. The prospect of the wildly popular Caesar returning in triumph from Spain and immediately taking the reins of power petrified the Senate.

But what could they do? Into this dilemma stepped Cato the Younger, leader of the conservative faction in the Senate, defender of republican virtue, and implacable foe of Caesar, who proposed a way to at least hold off Caesar's consulship. In order to qualify for candidacy, a man had to be physically present in Rome. But if a returning general entered the city before his triumph, the honor was nullified and the great victory parade canceled. As Caesar waited at Rome's gates, Cato did everything in his power to put the triumph off until after the deadline for candidate filing. Caesar asked for an exception to the rule, but the request was denied. Cato went so far as to filibuster all business on the final day of the senatorial session to prevent the triumph from being scheduled prior to the deadline.

Cato left that evening feeling quite satisfied with himself. The vain Caesar would not pass up an opportunity for a triumph, which may only come around once in a lifetime, just to run for an office he was destined to win anyway. Imagine his shock when Caesar, bold and unpredictable Caesar, abandoned his opportunity for a triumph and entered the city. He would stand for election that year, an election he would win handily to serve as consul of Rome in 59 BC.

Next week, we will delve into Caesar's eventful term in office, the reforms he tried to implement, and the reforms the Senate did everything in their power to block. But Caesar's support of Pompey did indeed pay off, and his longstanding relationship with Crassus was formalized in a secret pact to push forward the aims of all three men. The secret pact did not remain secret for long, though, for when Caesar stood before the popular assembly in order to bypass the opposition Senate, he was flanked by both Pompey and Crassus. It was instantly clear that the three most powerful men in Rome were working together, and as the masses cheered, the Senate cringed. How in the world could they stop this political juggernaut?