043 - Insert Well Known Idiom Here

Hello, and welcome to the History of Rome, episode 43, insert well-known idiom here. Since we began the History of Rome some 50 odd episodes ago, I've covered some pretty obscure stuff, things that have long been forgotten by all but professional scholars and a few amateur enthusiasts. Indeed, I was drawn to the idea of producing this podcast specifically to shed light on some of these oft-ignored stories. The next few episodes will be a bit different, though. This week, we are going to start dealing with things that are so famous that they have worked their way well into our collective imagination. For the next little while, it's going to be all, the die is cast, I came, I saw, I conquered, et tu, Brute? And I come here not to praise Caesar, but to bury him. We're about to delve into events and personalities that are almost universally recognizable. That the language of Caesar's Civil War still sits on the tips of our tongues is a testament to the massive impact it had on the development of the Western world. Because what do you say when you want to express that someone has gone past the point of no return? Ah, yes, you say that they are crossing the Rubicon.

As the winter of 50 BC came to a close, Caesar and the Senate had reached an impasse. Caesar refused to obey a direct order from the Senate to stand down his army, and the Senate refused to grant any of the concessions Caesar demanded in exchange for his cooperation. Both sides accused the other of upending the rule of law for the sake of private ambition. Caesar pointed out that the Senate did not technically have the authority to order him to give up his command, as his pro-consulship did not legally expire for another two years. The Senate replied that technically, Caesar's entire career was one blatant act of criminality after another, and he ought not go around touting legal technicalities as a defense.

But before we go any further into this story, I think it's worth reiterating just what had led to this impasse. A comment by Lane attached to last week's episode asked some very good questions about exactly what criminal charges Caesar faced if he returned to Rome, and why the relationship between the Senate and Caesar had grown so acrimonious. The two feed off each other, so I'll answer the last question first. In his survey of the Roman Republic called, coincidentally, The Roman Republic, Michael Crawford makes the point over and over again that after the plebs were integrated fully into the political process, an oligarchy of wealthy families on both sides of the original class divide found their interests generally aligned. From about the 350s on, and especially after the Senate came to dominate the state during the Second Punic War, there was a great deal of pressure from within this oligarchy to not sell one another out. That is, when internal disputes emerged, for example, the rivalry between the Fabii and the Claudii families, they were not allowed to spill out into the lower socioeconomic orders. For hundreds of years, these families bred amongst themselves and protected the property and privileges their status afforded them. So even if two old patricians hated each other, one wouldn't turn to the popular assemblies with promises of land reform in order to put pressure on the other. Threats to upend the established order were dealt with swiftly and harshly, usually in the form of social ostracism. For the highly social Romans, this was a fate worse than death, and it had the effect of keeping everyone in the upper class pretty much on the same page.

But by the end of the Punic Wars, this solidarity began to break down. The long wars with Carthage had decimated the ranks of the old aristocratic families, and the upper classes became populated with novus homo, men who were new to power and had no great loyalty to the old oligarchs. They identified with the masses and had no compunction about using popular causes as a means to leverage personal power. Marius was a great force in this transition, and once he showed how the new game could be played, ambitious men were eager to follow his lead. Suddenly, rather than ignoring the masses, praetors and consuls were proposing land reform and grain doles that flew in the face of everything the old order stood for. Because what the old order stood for more than anything else was the monopolization of land and trade by a few select families.

Into this environment stepped Caesar, scion of an ancient patrician family who turned his back on that status to champion popular causes as a way to reach the top of the political ladder. I have been reading H.W. Brands' biography of Franklin Roosevelt, called Traitor to his Class, and I would say that there is a great deal of similarity between American upper-class hatred of that man in the White House and the Senate's hatred of Caesar. In both cases, charismatic leaders who ought to have been strident defenders of the privileges of the old order instead used their considerable skills to blow those privileges up. The title of Brands' book says it all, they were traitors to their class. Because of this betrayal, the conservative Senate hated Caesar. They could see their way of life slipping away and were trying desperately to stem the tide of reform. And here was this enormously talented politician who ought to have been helping them, not helping them, and instead making things even worse. And not only that, he seemed to enjoy watching them squirm. So they were eternally vigilant for the moment that they could turn the tables and watch him squirm for a change.

They finally saw their opportunity as the Warren Gaul wound down. Plato and his allies were going to go after Caesar in court as soon as he lost the cloak of immunity that came with holding public office. But the question is, what was the Senate planning to actually charge him with, and what would that punishment actually be if he was convicted? There were complaints large and small, some frivolous and some not even true, but leading the way was the entirely accurate charge of bribery and his sacrilegious conduct as consul. Now, bribery was pretty common practice at the time, so the further question is, why was Caesar being singled out? The answer is that bribery was tolerated as long as everyone involved exercised a little discretion. But bribery turned from accepted, under-the-table practice to scandal when it came out into the open, and Caesar didn't even bother to hide what he was doing. He would brag about not having to worry about this or that because he had paid off a tribune or an influential senator. It made everyone crazy. No one had clean hands, except for maybe stodgy old Cato, but Caesar was making a mockery of their gentlemanly agreements. This break in social custom, coupled with the amounts and extent of his bribery, was what made people want to teach him a lesson. Was it selective prosecution? Definitely. Did the Senate care about the hypocrisy of it all? Not even a little bit. Caesar's brazen public purchase of the electoral system threatened to unmask the democratic façade the oligarchs had built around the Republic. They had to do something.

Aside from the bribery issue, it was the little matter of the entire second half of Caesar's consulship. You will recall that Bibulus had devised a clever scheme to stop Caesar's reforms by declaring every remaining day of their shared consulship a holy day, and thus close to public business. You will also recall that Caesar's reaction to this was to ignore the decree completely. His attitude was to get done what he wanted to get done, and worry about the consequences later. Well, now was later, and no one had forgotten what he had done. By ignoring the holy days, Caesar had committed acts that were not just illegal, they were sacrilegious. To the highly religious Romans, Caesar's blasphemy could not go unpunished, or it would invite the wrath of the gods on the entire empire.

So there Caesar is in Gaul, hated, hated by a pretty good chunk of the political elite who are going to prosecute him for things that no one could possibly argue he did not do. All he could hope for was leniency, but that hated thing seemed to preclude any chance of that. So what's the worst he could expect if he was brought up on charges and found guilty? I've looked all over, and I can't find any mention of execution being considered, and I don't think that even Caesar thought it would come to that. The worst he probably expected was banishment, or fines that would send him to the poorhouse. But the worst was not the thing that kept Caesar up at night. The thing that kept him up at night was the fairly banal fact that if he was tried and convicted he would be politically marginalized. He had dedicated his life to becoming a man of influence, a man of power, the first man in Rome, and a criminal conviction would erase all that. In essence, Caesar plunged Rome into chaos, violence, and civil war because he was afraid of losing his status. As much as there is to admire about Caesar, and there is much to admire, we should not forget that he was an enormously selfish man who killed tens of thousands of his fellow citizens because he did not want to retire to a life of obscurity. And there is nothing much to admire about that.

So it is in this light that we should see Caesar's final reply to the Senate's order in the winter of 50 B.C. to stand down his army. He told them he could not comply and that if they forced the issue he would defend his honor by any means necessary. The Senate, even the moderates, were incensed by these fighting words and felt compelled to follow through on their threats. Caesar was declared an enemy of the state. In the Senate House that day were a number of Caesar's supporters who argued loudly that this was unjust and beyond the pale. When the majority moved to expel Caesar's allies, one in particular raised a tremendous commotion. He had been elected tribune for that year, and when the guards came to remove him and his promised veto, he shouted that he was sacrosanct and that to lay hands on him was to invite the wrath of the gods. But the senators had heard enough and pitched the troublemaker out onto the street.

The tribune dusted himself off and immediately headed north to Caesar's camp. Upon arrival, Caesar displayed the tribune's bruises to his assembled troops as proof of the Senate's evil ways. I fight to defend the people of Rome, he said, while the Senate viciously attacks their representatives. Now of course, the aggrieved tribune in question, a one Mr. Marcus Antonius, better known as Mark Antony, was no great friend of the people and never had been. He had been born into a wealthy Poblian family and cared very little for much of anything at all beyond his own base pleasures. He loved wine, women, and gambling, and had spent his youth endlessly carousing the streets of Rome with his friends, causing trouble and running up massive debts. He seemed destined to spend his life as a no-account, spoiled little rich boy, but as it turned out, he was called to Syria to serve in the cavalry and immediately distinguished himself as one of the finest officers in the legions. He was a crude and reckless disaster in his private life, but put a helmet on him, give him a few men, and point him at the enemy, and he was able to accomplish extraordinary things. His mother was first cousins with Caesar, and in 54 BC, the young officer was attached to the great general Staffan Gaul. Though he was almost twenty years Caesar's junior, the two struck up an immediate friendship. In Antony, Caesar seems to have found not just another accomplice or temporary ally or partner, but in fact a true friend. Antony would spend the next ten years as Caesar's most trusted commander and a dogged defender of his interests wherever Caesar sent him, for example, to Rome to serve as tribune in 50 BC.

Today he showed off his bruises and stirred the troops up into an anti-senatorial frenzy. He knew his role, and he played it well. Having been declared an enemy of the state for refusing to surrender his army, Caesar knew that it would only be a matter of time before Pompey would be ordered north to take him out. His only real hope was to audaciously preempt the Senate's inevitable attack by marching straight for Rome at lightning speed. Maybe the unexpected invasion would cause enough chaos in the city that Pompey would find himself unprepared for a fight, forcing the old general to strategically withdraw from Rome. Caesar did not feel he even had time to wait for reinforcements from Gaul, so on January 10, 49 BC, he ordered the one legion he had on hand, the Thirteenth, to follow him across the tiny Rubicon River, which marked the southern border of Cisalpine Gaul, into Italia proper, an overt act of treason. Not only was it illegal for a general to lead an army out of the province he governed, it was doubly illegal to take an army into the home peninsula. Caesar knew what he was doing when he ordered the Thirteenth across, but not what the final outcome of his actions would be. Famously, watching his troops wade into the river, he said, the die is cast. They were all in the hands of fate now, whatever her fickle verdict turned out to be.

Initiating a civil war by invading Italy with a single legion may have been completely nuts, but if they were all in fate's hands anyways, how does the expression go? Fortune favors the bold. Now neither Caesar nor the Senate had access to Roman history books to tell them that Caesar's decision to cross the Rubicon would mark the end of the Republic and the beginning of the Imperium, and we shouldn't ascribe motives to anyone beyond what the immediate context merits. Even the Senate, whose rhetoric clearly signaled they believed Caesar to be a dire threat to the Republic, couldn't possibly have known that they would be so right. The Republic had survived the Gracchi, Marius, and Sulla. Caesar was cut from the same cloth, but had not those men come and gone while the Republic remained? So yes, Caesar knew when he crossed the river that he was sparking a civil war and that if he was going to survive, he was going to have to seize power. But that he would set a precedent for 500 years of emperors? Standing there on the banks of the Rubicon on that cold January morning, Caesar was thinking about how best to approach Rome and what resistance he might face from his fellow countrymen. He was thinking about his supply lines and whether or not to overwhelm Italy or detour to Spain to cut off Pompey's armies there so they couldn't reinforce his opponent. Was he thinking that in 2,000 years the Russians would be ruled by a Tsar and the Germans by a Kaiser? That in the future his name would literally be synonymous with autocracy? Probably not. He was marching into Italy with but a single legion to overthrow the greatest state in the ancient world. He had other things on his mind.

The reaction in Rome was exactly what Caesar hoped it would be. The Senate heard that he was invading and immediately fell over themselves, calling for Pompey to save them. The old general had two legions at his disposal, but critically, no one seemed to know how large of a force was marching on Rome. The last time Pompey had checked, Caesar only had the 13th with him, surely he was not foolish enough to invade with just a few thousand men. So it was safe to assume that the outlawed general had been reinforced. Pompey's imagination got the better of him as he pictured Caesar coming south at the head of ten veteran legions. It would be suicide to stay in Rome. So Pompey, playing right into Caesar's hands, ordered an immediate withdrawal of the city. He would take his legions, and anyone else who cared to come with him, to Brundisium and from there they would sail for Greece. The senators were appalled, but Pompey calmly explained that the east was where he had made his name, and he had a string of clients willing to support their patron at the drop of a hat. Caesar could have Rome for now, but the occupation would be short-lived. Pompey would gather a massive army in Greece, and then return to Italy to crush the upstart. They were welcome to stay in Rome and await Caesar's arrival if they wished, but he was going to Greece. The Senate, almost to a man, followed. They didn't even bother to lock the gates.

On his way south, Caesar found most of the Italian towns amenable to his approach. This he considered a blessing, as he desperately wanted there to be no resistance whatsoever. Despite the propaganda he was issuing about how he was the victim, and how he was the true defender of the people, and how he was the Republic, he knew full well that he was committing treason. If he was going to skate through this, he would need his fellow citizens to be complicit in the whitewashing of his coup d'etat. The last thing he needed was to be seen killing and pillaging peaceful Italian towns. At one point, though, a city garrisoned by a conservative general did attempt to hold out, but Caesar managed to convince him to surrender without spilling blood. When the general and his captains emerged from behind the walls, they fully expected to be executed, but Caesar released them, going so far as to tell them that they could go join up with Pompey and continue to fight him if that's what they thought was best. Everyone was shocked by this display of leniency. Caesar didn't even make them promise not to oppose him in the future. But Caesar knew exactly what he was doing. He was weaving a spell of legitimacy around himself, and the spell would only work if he didn't give anyone an excuse to point out that he was engaged in criminal conquest. There could be no martyrs. He was the friend of everyone, even his enemies. It drove both his friends and enemies crazy, but the people caught in the middle would remain on the sidelines as long as Caesar did nothing to provoke them.

With Pompey headed south with a head start, Caesar's main motivation at this point was not to make straight for Rome, but rather to march for Brundisium as fast as possible and try to cut off access to the port city. If he could keep Pompey from reaching Greece, he might be able to force a resolution to the conflict before the end of the year. As the two armies raced for Brundisium, envoys from both camps traveled back and forth exchanging proposals and counter-proposals to secure a peace before things got out of hand. More than anything, Caesar wanted to meet privately with Pompey. If the two of them could get together alone, he was sure they could hash out a peace. But the Senate was adamant that Pompey not agree to the terms. They were certain the dynamic Caesar would convince old Pompey to sell out the Senate and renew their previous alliance. All attempts at talk were foiled. Despite Caesar's double-time pace, Pompey reached Brundisium first and fortified the city. Caesar arrived not long after and laid siege, including an attempt to blockade the port, but his efforts failed and ships from Greece were able to spirit Pompey and the Senate away. Caesar was now in control of Italy, but it was a hollow victory. The entire Republican governing apparatus had fled the peninsula. Even with his mastery of propaganda, it would be hard for Caesar to convince anyone that his control of Italy was legitimate. But there was no time to worry about that now. He wheeled around and headed to Rome, marching into the city in April of 49 B.C.

It was awkward marching his army into the unprotected city. There was no resistance, but there was also no support. He called a meeting of the Senate to plead his case, but it was a sparsely attended affair, and those who remained in the city were all B-list nobodies anyway. Everyone that mattered was already gone. He received a much more enthusiastic welcome when he addressed the popular assemblies, promising them cash and grain under his administration, but they immediately turned on him when he looted the public treasury to help pay his soldiers. To make matters worse, a stubborn tribune had made a point of physically standing between Caesar and the treasury doors. After making such a big deal about the treatment of Mark Antony, Caesar's hypocrisy was in full display as he threatened to kill the obstinate tribune if he did not clear a path. After seizing the cash and resupplying his army, Caesar was savvy enough to know that he best get out of the city before he damaged his standing any more than he already had. This was a political conflict as much as it was a military affair, and losing on either front would cripple his long-term goals. Though he had done himself no favors with his conduct in Rome, military victory would go a long way toward solving his political problems. So leaving Mark Antony in charge of the city, Caesar led his legions out the gate.

Caesar decided to put off chasing after Pompey for now, and instead resolved to neutralize any support that may come in from Spain. In an amazing 27 days, Caesar marched his legions from Rome to Spain, picking up additional forces in Gaul along the way. He entered Hispania with some 30,000 troops, intent on taking the Spanish legions out of the fight before Pompey could figure out how to put them to good use. He had expected to meet limited resistance from Pompey's five leaderless legions, but the commanders left in charge had no intention of rolling over for Caesar. When the two forces met in battle briefly for an initial skirmish, the Pompeian legions showed surprising resiliency in the field, throwing back Caesar's men, who had grown accustomed to easy victory. But success in the field would not be enough. The local Spanish tribes concluded that if they helped Caesar win control of the empire, he may repay the favor by easing the burden of servitude imposed by Rome. The Pompeian forces soon found themselves bottled up without access to allies or supplies. To prevent any escape, Caesar camped his army practically on top of the enemy, and soon soldiers from both sides began to slip back and forth between the opposing camps to drink and commiserate over what a miserable lot they had all drawn. Fighting fellow Romans is not why any of them had joined up. In particular, the foot soldiers in the Pompeian legions were jealous of Caesar's men, who had grown rich being led by the great general, while they wasted away supporting a pack of rich old men who didn't care about them anyway. It didn't help when the Pompeian commanders cracked down hard on the intermingling, while Caesar turned a blind eye to the enemy soldiers drinking in his own camp. Soon enough, though, the commanders, out of food and supplies, joined in their soldiers' dissatisfaction. They weren't going to starve to death defending the honor of a bunch of senators. They surrendered, and when Caesar disbanded the defeated legions, the vast majority of them turned right around and signed up to fight for the man who had just defeated them.

Stronger than ever, Caesar marched back to Italy. When he arrived in Rome this time, in December of 49 BC, things went quite a bit better. Allies had managed to formalize an appointment to the office of dictator, giving Caesar legal powers he had not had previously. But unlike Marius and Sulla, who had used their powers to murder their enemies, Caesar showed amazing restraint, turning his attention away from revenge and toward the grain supply problems and economic meltdowns that had been caused by the civil war. Quickly reorganizing the logistics and finances of the state, Caesar then resigned his dictatorship, declaring his intention to serve merely as a consul, which, he reminded everyone, was all he wanted anyway. The citizens of Rome were amazed, and it did much to repair the damage he had done in his first tour through the city. But he would not be staying in Rome for long.

Now a consul, with at least a claim to legitimacy, Caesar headed to Brundisium with seven legions. Pompey had spent the year gathering a massive international army, and it was a sure bet that come the spring they would be pouring back across the Adriatic. What was troubling for Caesar, who knew that his best shot lay in taking the fight to Pompey in Greece, was the fact that Pompey had some 600 ships patrolling the Adriatic, an impossible blockade if Caesar played it by the book, which clearly stated that he had to wait for spring, and that no one sailed the whole army across the Adriatic in winter. So Caesar threw the book out, and ordered an unprecedented January crossing. If not for their fanatical loyalty, Caesar may have been faced with a full-blown mutiny, but instead his soldiers jumped into the crazy plan with relish. Even crazier, Caesar only had enough ships for about half his troops. He would have to send one convoy across, hope it could run the blockade, survive the dangerous seas, and hold a beachhead totally outnumbered in enemy territory. The odds of making it across unscathed one time were long, but Caesar then planned to do it all again a second time to bring over the rest of his troops. Fortune had better favor the bold.

Pompey's fleet, ironically led by Caesar's old consular rival, Bibulus, was totally unprepared for the January crossing, and Caesar led the first wave across intact and unchallenged. Enraged and embarrassed, however, Bibulus was well prepared for the second wave, and prevented them from crossing. Caesar's old nemesis died not long after, and it was remarked that he had exerted himself so much in the wintry seas that he had literally worked himself to death. But he had left Caesar with half an army on the far side of the Adriatic, a fine parting gift from a man who had for so long been a thorn in Caesar's side.

We'll leave Caesar there for now, camped in a pyrus with half an army, surrounded by enemies. However, as next weekend contains both my own birthday and the soon-to-be Mrs. History of Rome's birthday, it'll be an extra week before we get to the final confrontation with Pompey at Pharsalus. The History of Rome will be back in two weeks for Caesar's final victory over the Senate and his return to Rome as the sole master of the greatest empire in the world.