DIVUS IULIUS POPULI
Popular power and the deification of Julius Caesar
Name Thom Sean Joarn Oosterlaak
University of registration University of Amsterdam
Student number 10210644
Department ACASA
Programme MA Ancient History
Supervisor dr. M.K. (Marleen) Termeer
Second reader dr. S.M.J. (Sofie) Remijsen
Date of submission August 3, 2020
Cover: Image 1. Base of statue of Divus Iulius erected by the populus Romanus in accordance with the lex Rufrena, ILS 73; found at Otricoli, now in the Vatican.
Photo: © M. Clauss. Retrieved online from the Epigraphik-Datenbank Clauss / Slaby,
<http://db.edcs.eu/epigr/bilder.php?bild=$MC_CIL_06_00872.jpg;$OH_CIL_06_00872_1.jp g;$OH_CIL_06_00872_2.jpg;pp>; last accessed August 3, 2020.
Table of contents
Introduction 1
I. Precedents 4
II. Legitimisation and conditions 11
III. Popular power 20
IV. Caesar’s image 29
V. The deification 42
Conclusion 60
Bibliography 63
1
Introduction
Quid, qui aut fortis aut claros aut potentis viros tradunt post mortem ad deos pervenisse, eosque esse ipsos quos nos colere precari venerarique soleamus, nonne expertes sunt religionum omnium?
Or those who teach that brave or famous or powerful men have been deified after death, and that it is these who are the real objects of the worship, prayers and adoration which we are accustomed to offer – are not they entirely devoid of all sense of
religion?1
In his De Natura Deorum, Cicero has G. Aurelius Cotta rail against the idea that a mortal human could be deified. Yet only three years after the work was written, in 42, G. Julius Caesar became the first Roman to be fully deified. Who, then, was behind Caesar’s deification, and had they indeed lost sight of their religion?
This inquiry was sparked by my reading of Ittai Gradel’s book Emperor worship and
Roman religion. Gradel argues that the Roman religious system knew no differences between
honours and worship, and divine worship must be seen as the highest form of honour. State deification, Gradel claims, did not create gods, but merely granted divine honours.2 Gradel goes on to examine the imperial cult under Augustus through this lens, presenting a model in which divine honours are chiefly an expression of a substantial gap in power and status between worshiper and worshiped.3 In this way, I read in Gradel’s theory an attractive bottom-up analysis of the early imperial cult. But Gradel focuses on Augustus, dedicating only a brief chapter to Caesar.4 While Gradel does see in Caesar’s divinisation an expression of status difference, he seems to present this as an affair between Caesar and the senate.5 Tantalised, I wondered if Gradel’s theory of a status divinity could be extended to include not only Caesar in full, but also the populus instead of the aristocracy. Why exactly I decided to focus on the populus I do not know, but a few years ago I followed a course on Roman
Throughout this thesis, I will not be using the Anglicised forms of the names of ancient persons and authors,
unless in a quote or source title. Instead I will be using Latinised forms (e.g. Marcus Antonius, Octavianus), also for Greek authors (e.g. Plutarchus, Appianus).
1
Cic. ND 1.119.
2 Ittai Gradel, Emperor worship and Roman religion (Oxford 2002) 27-29. 3 Gradel, Emperor worship, 29, 52-53.
4
Ibidem, 54-72. 5 Ibidem, 71-72.
2
elections, which introduced me to most of the modern academics discussed in chapter three below. I suppose the theme of a bottom-up reading of Rome in my mind naturally connected to the Roman electorate. In this way, I set myself the question, not fully in line with Gradel, to what extent the populus Romanus influenced Julius Caesar’s apotheosis.
I intend to tackle this question in five parts. In my first chapter, I will turn to the most important of the many precedents for Caesar’s eventual deification. I ask in what way the concept of a deified mortal existed within the religious framework of the late republic. In this, I will examine both some of the associations with divinity made concerning several important statesmen of the republic, as well as certain pieces of poetry. It will be shown that Caesar’s apotheosis was not innovatively shocking to the zeitgeist of the late republic. Secondarily, some notes will be made on the involvement of the populus in these cases, which may reflect on the case of Caesar’s deification.
The second chapter will continue the theme of the first, that is, to examine the extent to which the theme of divinisation was present in the mental culture of the late republic. In this chapter, however, I will make a more philosophical turn, examining the works of Cicero. The famous orator might well be assumed to have been in opposition to the practice,
considering the quote above as well as his reputation as a staunch republican. Following a reading of Cicero by Spencer Cole, however, I will argue that Cicero had a central part in the establishment of deification at Rome.
In the third chapter, I will return more closely to the role of the populus Romanus. In order to examine their involvement in the creation of Divus Iulius, first their place within the Roman political system as a whole must be examined. I feel this is necessary since the decree to deify Caesar was passed through the popular assemblies in 42 and, as will be seen, many of the steps taken towards Caesar’s deification took place on a ‘political’ level. Building on academic research from roughly the 1980s to the middle 2000s, I will argue that the populus
Romanus had a considerable part to play within the political system.
With chapter four I move from a more general examination of the nature of the late republic to the figure of Caesar specifically. In this chapter, I will examine what I term
Caesar’s image, the way he presented himself and the way he was presented by others. This is admittedly vague and too large in scope, hence I will focus on a number of associations to divinity made about Caesar. I will argue that it was Caesar himself who started linking himself to divinity, partly in line with established tradition, partly innovatively. At the same time, however, Caesar’s image grew far greater than the man himself could grasp, and others took up the theme.
3
In my final chapter, I will turn to the events following Caesar’s assassination on the Ides of March 44 BCE. It is in this time, and not in 42, that I believe the key decisions for Caesar’s deification were made. As I hope to show, this is where the elements of the four previous chapters combine into a popular movement towards apotheosis. With Caesar dead, the Roman populus, informed by long traditions of divinisation and the image Caesar had constructed of himself, employed their political power to ensure the creation of Divus Iulius.
4
I. Precedents
On the surface, the Roman republic may appear to be a state that would not quickly deify a statesman. The Roman hatred for monarchy is perhaps even more famous than the story of Lucretia’s rape that was its cause. To place a single individual above the state and people was anathema to Roman sensibilities, be they monarch or deity.6 That said, such a statement is misleading. It does perhaps convey a republican ideal, but in the last century of the republic such an ideal was waning. In truth, the concept of divinisation was a reality. Below, I will present a number of examples, chiefly republican, ordered to the extent of how close they are to a full deification in line with that of Caesar’s. First I will briefly turn to the mythical past, to illustrate that is was possible, within Roman religious thought, for humans to become deities. From there I will discuss republican instances of humans being likened to gods, followed by examples of statesmen claiming relationships to the gods and finally a discussion of full deification.
Traditional gods were often considered to have been mortals, who earned divinity because of their accomplishments. According to Cicero, this theory was developed by the third-century philosopher Euhemerus and translated into Latin by the second-century poet Ennius.7 Ennius recognised Jupiter as a man who, ‘when he was sunk in the depths of old age, […] parted with his life in Crete, and went away to join the gods.8
Similarly, Diodorus Siculus, a contemporary of Cicero, agrees with the Euhemeran view, adding several more divinities who had once been men:
But the other gods, we are told, were terrestrial beings who attained to immortal honour and fame because of their benefactions to mankind, such as Heracles, Dionysus, Aristaeus, and the others who were like them.9
Certainly, then, it was possible for humans to become deities, or rather it had been, in the time of gods and heroes.
Far from a thing only of the mythical past, divinisation was also present in the late republic. While Caesar’s apotheosis was unique at the time, it was not unprecedented. None
6 Michael Koortbojian, The divinization of Caesar and Augustus. Precedents, consequences, implications (Cambridge 2013) 22.
7 Cic. ND 1.119.
8 Ennius, Euhemerus Sive Sacra Historia F 4 (apud Lactantius, Divinae Institutiones 1.11.44-45). Loeb edition, p. 244-245.
5
of Caesar’s predecessors were honoured in the same way and to the same extent as he was. Still, it is valuable to mention a few important examples in order to examine just how unique Caesar’s case truly was, and in what ways the rites offered to him were part of Roman public consciousness. After all, several aspects of Caesar’s cult had been established elements of Roman religion.
Perhaps one of the tamer of the honours awarded to victorious generals was a ceremonial offering of food and libations. A notable example is one such offering made to Gaius Marius in 101, after his victory over the Cimbri. The event is recorded by Plutarchus, who make clear that Marius’ name was honoured alongside those of the gods.10 Valerius Maximus, however, says libations were poured as to the gods (tamquam dis immortalibus).11 While this certainly does not make him a divinity in the eyes of those making the offering, it may be clear that Roman religion allowed for honours usually reserved for the gods to be granted to mortals as well. Similarly, in the mid-80s BCE, Marcus Marius Gratidianus, nephew to the elder Marius, was widely acclaimed by the citizens of Rome, who set up statues in every vicus before which they burned incense and candles, and offered libations of wine.12 It is plausible that the statues were set up in neighbourhood compita next to images of the Lares. Such honours could be turned into an extravagant show. When supplicationes were offered to Quintus Caecilius Metellus Pius by the people of Hispania Ulterior, he was given saffron and incense, and a likeness of Victory was made to crown him. The historian
Sallustius nicely captures the atmosphere of the moment, describes that these offerings were made to Metellus ‘as though he were a god’ (quasi deo).13
Most notable of all the republican brushes with deification was perhaps the case of the Gracchi. In 121, after the death of Gaius Gracchus, the Roman populus went to quite a length to honour the fallen tribunes. As recorded by Plutarchus, the people honoured the places where the brothers had died and erected statues in a ‘conspicuous’ location, where they brought offerings and even sacrifice, falling to their knees in reverence.14 The scene is quite similar to the aftermath of Caesar’s death, as shall be discussed in more detail below. For now it suffices to state the Gracchi were given extraordinary honours. The people honouring the tribunes acted, in the words of Plutarchus, ‘as though they were visiting the shrines of gods’ (ὥσπερ θεῶν ἱεροῖς ἐπιφοιτῶντες).
10
Plut. Mar. 27.5. 11 Val. Max. 8.15.7.
12 Cic. Off. 3.80; Sen. Ira 3.18.1; Plin. NH 33.132, 34.27. 13
Sall. H. 2.70M.3. 14 Plut. C. Gracch. 18.2.
6
Another example of the likening of human to god is brought forward by Ittai Gradel. Examining the comedies of Plautus, written around 200, Gradel isolates the theme of an ‘earthly Jupiter’.15
In the Persa, Saturio calls his patron Toxilus mi Iuppiter terrestris.16 The theme returns in Pseudolus, where Calidorus says of Ballio:
nam hic mihi nunc est multo Iuppiter quam Iuppiter
For this Jupiter is now much more mighty to me than is Jupiter himself.17
For the following few lines, the three characters in the scene maintain the simile, with Calidoros and his slave Pseudolus outright referring to Ballio as Jupiter.18 In Captivi,
Ergasilus demands a sacrifice from Hegio, declaring himself Hegio’s Jupiter.19 In the Asinaria, finally, the slaves Libanus and Leonida, in a megalomaniac frenzy, demand that their master’s son erects a statue and altar to them and brings them the offer of an ox ‘as though to a god’.20
The theme also appears briefly in Terentius’ Adelphoe: ‘I make you out to be a god’ and in Lucretius: ‘he was a god [...] a god he was’.21
Of course, such poetry cannot be taken as proof that humans were truly seen as gods. On the contrary, the appearance of the theme in comedy implies that the simile is acceptable only in extraordinary fiction.
However, the theme of the ‘earthly Jupiter’ appears elsewhere within Roman tradition. The Roman triumphator was dressed like Jupiter, or perhaps only like a king who appeared as Jupiter. In either case, the scene intentionally invoked the comparison.22 A special connection to Jupiter was also created for Scipio Africanus, influenced by Greek traditions of the life of Alexander III of Macedon. Scipio was seen as a son of Jupiter, and may have received some cult worship upon his death.23 Years later, none other than a young Cicero equated Sulla’s dictatorship over Rome to Jupiter’s rule over earth and heaven.24
A mortal man could be seen
15 Gradel, Emperor worship, 44-47, 49.
16 Plaut. Per. 99-100. I follow the translation of Gradel, Emperor worship, 44-45. In the Loeb translation,
terrestris is taken as an adjective to coepulonus, contrasting a Toxilus-Jupiter with an earthly Saturio.
17 Plaut. Ps. 328. 18 Plaut. Ps. 328-335. 19 Plaut. Capt. 864.
20 Plaut. As. 712-714: atque ut deo mi hic immolas bovem [...] mihi statuis supplicasque? 21
Ter. Ad. 535: facio te apud illum deum; Lucr. 5.8: deus ille fuit, deus.
22 Liv. 10.7.10 and Gradel, Emperor worship, 34-35. Mary Beard, The Roman triumph (Cambridge 2007) 226-233 discusses some debate concerning the precise linkage to Jupiter.
23
Stefan Weinstock, Divus Julius (Oxford 1971) 302, 294-5. 24 Cic. S. Rosc. 131.
7
as a Jupiter on earth. The near equation between mortals and gods, the theme of treating statesmen quasi deo, was prevalent within late republican society.
Not only were such honours granted to politicians, but sometimes men of great status and ability claimed a direct connection with the gods. A notable example comes to us from the coinage of Lucius Cornelius Sulla. On several coins dated to 82, Victoria is shown
crowning a triumphator, doubtlessly Sulla.25 As Michael Koortbojian has pointed out, prior to Sulla, the only figures ever crowned by Victoria herself were gods.26 While it is impossible to know who truly invented the image of Sulla crowned by Victoria, it is likely that the dictator was personally involved.
Cicero went even further in his poem De consulatu. The poem is lost, but crucial elements are preserved through an anonymous pamphlet containing invective against the orator. According to the pamphleteer, Cicero wrote of being summoned to the council of the gods by Jupiter, and of being tutored by Minerva herself.27 Much like Plautus’ literary extravagance, this poetic flight of fancy should not be seen as any proof that Cicero truly thought that he had been the chosen of the gods. Nevertheless, the accusation appears to have haunted Cicero, and it was used against him by his enemy Clodius.28 Cicero does call the simile insolent, but does not appear outraged. If such claims of connections to divinity were indeed part of accepted political language, the boundary between mortal and divine cannot have been impenetrable.
Another example may be seen in the actions of Caesar’s rival Pompeius. Famously, the general constructed Rome’s first ever permanent theatre. In fact, the theatre was a large complex, incorporating, among others, the curia where Caesar was murdered, and a temple to Venus Victrix. According to Amy Russell, the Pompeian theatre must be seen as a deliberate attempt to privatise public space.29 The temple to Venus appears to take a special position within the complex. As recorded by Tertullianus, admittedly a late and hostile source, Pompeius himself referred to the complex as a temple (non theatrum, sed Veneris templum
nuncupavit), remarking that it was a temple with spectacles underneath.30 Indeed, as Russell notes, the temple would have dominated the entire structure, as it was situated high on top of the cavea, and would have been a focal point for any itineraries inside the complex. Directly
25 RRC 367.
26 Koortbojian, The divinization of Caesar and Augustus, 23. 27
Ps.-Sall. In Cic. 3; 7. See also Quintil. 11.1.24, which repeats the charges.
28 Cic. Dom. 92. Cf Weinstock, Divus Julius, 302-303 and 303 ff. 3, who suggests that the accusation may have been invented by Clodius but accepts that Cicero may have been partly responsible.
29
Amy Russell, The politics of public space in republican Rome (Cambridge 2016) 167. 30 Tert. De spec. 10.
8
across from the temple was the curia with its statue of Pompeius. Russell emphasises that the visual impression of the building pointed toward Pompeius’ status, and presented Venus Victrix as the general’s personal protector.31
The concept of claiming a special relationship with a specific god was, thus, present in the world in which Caesar came to power, and was even used by his direct political predecessor.
So far, the examples seen have mostly concerned the likening or linkage of mortals to gods, not full deification. Still, even true apotheosis was not anathema in late republican society. A strong piece of evidence for this comes to us from none other than Cicero himself. After the death of his daughter Tullia in 45, the orator planned to build a monument to her memory. In a letter to Atticus, he described his wishes for the place:
Fanum fieri volo, neque hoc mihi dissuaderi potest. sepulcri similitudinem effugere non tam propter poenam legis studeo quam ut maxime adsequar ἀποθέωσιν.
I want it to be a shrine and from that there’s no budging me. I am anxious to avoid the appearance of a tomb, not so much because of the fine as in order to achieve
apotheosis, as far as may be.32
Apotheosis for the recently deceased was very much topical even before Caesar’s death. It appears that the embellishing of funerary memorials was common enough for some kind of legal restriction to have been put in place. Cicero was aware he was treading a fine line. A deified woman would be a goddess, and a goddess did not have a grave. Hence his insistence that the monument must not be seen as one. The language Cicero uses is certainly not a one-off hyperbole. In another letter to Atticus, he expresses his wish that the shrine would be in a public place:
sed nescio quo pacto celebritatem requiro; itaque hortos mihi conficias necesse est.
But somehow I want it to be in the public way; so you must get me a place in the suburbs.33
31 Russell, The politics of public space, 173-176. 32
Cic. Att. 12.36.1. 33 Cic. Att. 12.37.2.
9
In yet another epistle, Cicero refers to the prospective shrine as an amphidruma.34 According to Irad Malkin, an amphidruma must be seen as an object intended to introduce cult.35
Cicero’s wish for Tullia to be remembered is clear. The monument Cicero planned for her was to be a shrine, where many would make offerings to her. Cicero’s expectation of cult confirms that the idea of deification was alive enough for the random passer-by to make some kind of offering to the shrine of a mortal woman only recently deceased.
However, one important difference distinguishes Cicero’s shrine to Tullia from the honours awarded to Caesar. Michael Koortbojian characterises pre-Caesarean cult expressions like those seen above as private.36 The word private is, especially to modern eyes, perhaps deceptive. Certainly, the statues of Gratidianus were visible in the street. Coins linking Sulla to Venus circulated freely, passing from hand to hand. Cicero’s proposed shrine to Tullia was supposed to attract an audience. Yet, in none of these cases is there a detectable presence of the Roman state, and the offerings are made on individual initiative, and not on the basis of an official, legalised decree. Tullia’s memorial would be placed on privately owned land. The libations to the elder Marius, too, are linked with a popular upsurge of respect. The moneyers that issued Sulla’s coinage may have held public office, but they still had some personal control over the imagery used. Additionally, Koortbojian emphasises that no set pattern or combinations of honours appear to have existed. The offerings made vary. It is only in Seneca’s description of the statues of Gratidianus that the language used corresponds to standard form.37 So far, the examples given are, arguably, of a private nature.
The instances of divinisation seen above illustrate that the concept of likening and even equating humans to deities was very much alive in the late republic. Great statesmen such as Sulla or Pompeius claimed a personal, exclusive relationship to the gods.
Furthermore, as seen with Cicero, a wish to deify the deceased was not only present and
accepted, but could even hope to count on support in the form of cult paid by others. However, these examples remain chiefly private. Offerings to Gratidianus or the Gracchi were made by private citizens, with no evidence of state involvement. Caesar had his predecessors. It was not unthinkable that he would honoured quasi deo. His claim to a relationship with Venus was
34 Cic. Att. 13.29.1.
35 Irad Malkin, ‘What Is an “Amphidruma?”’, Classical Antiquity 10 (1991), 77-96. Malkin links amphidruma to intended transfer of cult. Malkin, 79 only refers briefly to Cicero and implies that the word in Cicero refers only to a sanctuary, particularly a subsidiary one. Nevertheless, the cultic connotation of the word remains intact. The focus on the transferring and subsidiary nature of amphidruma may suggest a primary shrine existed for Tullia; if so this was likely a more private one, perhaps located within Cicero’s house.
36
Koortbojian, The divinization of Caesar and Augustus, 3. 37 Ibidem, 4.
10
preceded by Sulla and Pompeius. Even the idea that he would be lifted to the heavens was not unprecedented, since apotheosis lived in the minds of many, not least of which was Cicero.
11
II. Legitimisation and conditions
The topic of deification appears often in Cicero’s works. In a recent book, Spencer Cole has analysed Cicero’s usage of apotheosis-language, and argues that the orator himself was a significant creative force in the introduction of deification into Roman culture.38 The theory is an interesting one, and warrants some attention here. It is not within the scope of this thesis to focus so entirely on Cicero, yet the scarcity of contemporary material means he is an
irreplaceable source. More importantly, Cole’s reading of Cicero offers three important contributions to this thesis. The first point, which will be discussed only briefly, is simply that Cicero was immensely interested in and involved with the subject of deification. The second point is that Cole argues that Cicero provided apotheosis with a legitimisation. Finally and most substantively is Cicero’s interpretation of divinisation. I will argue that, for Cicero, apotheosis was both man-made and conditional.
The example seen above, the death of his daughter Tullia, was certainly not Cicero’s only brush with divinisation. The subject is present in Cicero’s works not only in the 40s BCE in a response to Caesar’s rise to power, but goes back to the 70s BCE, starting with the In
Verrem of 70 BCE and ending with the last of the Philippicae, not long before the formation
of the Second Triumvirate. Cole offers myriad examples of Cicero using divine analogies throughout his work. What suffices for my purpose is to establish the extent and depth of Cicero’s interest in the subject. Cicero expressed his extreme gratitude for Publius Cornelius Lentulus Spinther’s role in his recall from exile by calling him his father and god (parens ac
deus nostrae vitae, fortunae, memoriae, nominis).39 Spinther’s actions are outstanding and divine (excellenti atque divino), and Cicero imagines himself returning to Rome on the golden chariot (curru aureate) of gods and kings, which was also used by the triumphator.40 All this may still be seen as intentional exaggeration akin to Plautine comedy.41 Far less innocent is Cicero’s extensive presentation of Pompeius as a divine saviour in Pro Lege Manilia. Cicero repeatedly extols Pompeius’ positive qualities with the adjective divinus, and extensively describes his reception in the provinces as an adventus, thus portraying the general as a divine saviour.42 That said, Cole notes that Cicero portrays Pompeius only as an agent of the gods,
38
Spencer Cole, Cicero and the rise of deification at Rome (Cambridge 2013) 15-17, 25-26, 197-198. 39 Cic. Red. Sen. 8.
40 Cic. Red. Sen. 28; Liv. 10.7.10; Gradel, Emperor worship, 34-35. 41
Cole, Cicero and the rise of deification, 70-71. 42 Ibidem, 39-43.
12
and that his divine power remains constricted by morality.43 It may be seen simply from the extent of examples given by Cole that Cicero was deeply involved and interested in the concept of deifying a human being. While Cicero may have been a significant creative force in bringing the concept of deification to Rome, he could never have deployed it so extensively had his audience not been receptive. That said, Cole repeatedly emphasises the experimental nature of Cicero’s treatments of apotheosis, which changes over time.44
Cicero himself developed his vision on deification in response to the political realities in Rome. As the ‘leading philosopher, theologian and theorist of his generation’45
, Cicero was at the forefront of this discussion, but he was certainly not alone.
One of Cicero’s contributions to the philosophical discussion on divinisation is that he provided it a degree of legitimacy.46 This legitimacy is established through the intervention of venerable republican sources. In his De re publica, Cicero presents Romulus as a divine statesman along Ennian lines. Not only does he cite Ennius’ Annales, but he does so through the figure of Scipio Aemilianus, who also substantiates his arguments by drawing from Cato, the augural books, the Duodecim Tabulae, and the religious state records of the Annales
Maximi.47 Cicero’s Scipio even claims the existence of a Roman tradition of divinisation:
concedamus enim famae hominum, praesertim non inveteratae solum, sed etiam sapienter a maioribus proditae, bene meriti de rebus communibus ut genere etiam putarentur, non solum solum ingenio esse divino
[F]or we may grant that much to the popular tradition, especially as it is not only very ancient, but has been wisely handed down by our ancestors, who desired that those who have deserved well of the commonwealth should be deemed actual descendants of the gods, as well as endowed with godlike qualities48
In this way, Cicero gives the concept of apotheosis support from traditional authority, and creates a natively Roman template for deification.49 Far from a strange and innovative custom
43 Cole, Cicero and the rise of deification, 47-48. 44 Ibidem, 15-17, 185-186.
45
Mary Beard, John A. North and Simon R. F. Price, Religions of Rome vol. I A history (Cambridge 1998) 116. 46 Cole, Cicero and the rise of deification, 87-89.
47 Ibidem, 89-91. 48
Cic. De re publica 2.4.
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practiced by Asiatic cultures, Cicero’s form of deification could be seen as a wholly Roman concept, in full concordance with centuries of republican tradition.
The third, far more substantive, contribution of Cole’s reading of Cicero lies in Cole’s understanding of the type of deification propagated by Cicero. According to Cole, Cicero ‘invariably premises divinization on moral responsibility and civic accomplishment’.50
What did this kind of apotheosis mean to Cicero, and how could it be attained? Again, key answers may be found in Romulus’ deification in De re publica:
ac Romulus cum septem et triginta regnavisset annos et haec egregia duo firmamenta rei publicae peperisset, auspicia et senatum, tantum est consecutus, ut, cum subito sole obscurato non conparuisset, deorum in numero conlocatus putaretur; quam opinionem nemo umquam mortalis adsequi potuit sine eximia virtutis gloria.
And after Romulus had reigned thirty-seven years, and established those two excellent foundations of our commonwealth, the auspices and the senate, his great achievements led to the belief that, when he disappeared during a sudden darkening of the sun, he had been added to the number of the gods; indeed such an opinion could never have gotten abroad about any human being save a man pre-eminently renowned for virtue.51
Several aspects of this passage are of note. First, Cicero presents Romulus as a mortal man, without any reference to his legendary connection to Mars. His deification is won solely on the basis of his own power and virtue. Immediately after this passage, in De re publica 2.18, Cicero’s Scipio insists that this account should not be mistaken for fiction, claiming that early Rome was too sophisticated to believe in fabrication.52 Cole argues that Cicero is intentionally presenting early Rome as contemporary, purging it of more mythical elements in order to stress the similarities between kingdom and republic.53 In this way, the concept of deification is lifted from its place in the archaic past and positioned in a world not unlike Cicero’s own. Apotheosis is presented as not only possible for mortal men, but possible for mortal men in Cicero’s own era.
The second aspect to note is the reason for Romulus’ deification. Cicero’s emphasis lays chiefly on Romulus’ personal virtue, but appears to connect this to the achievement of
50 Cole, Cicero and the rise of deification, 16. 51 Cic. De re publica 2.17.
52
Ibidem, 2.18.
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laying the foundations of the Roman state that were the auspices and the senate.54 This is in line with Cole’s insight that civic service is central to Cicero’s idea of what makes a worthy deification. This theme is felt clearly in the third of the Catilinarian Orations. In this speech, Cicero presents the rescue of the state as a joint effort by the gods and by himself.55 Cicero goes further, and likens the saviour of the city to its founder. Just as the founder was ‘by our praises raised to the immortal gods’, so should the saviour be held in honour.56 For Cicero, humans could come closest to divinity in either the founding or rescuing of a city.57 This view also appears to be present in Livius’ account of Romulus’ deification. Like Cicero, Livius does not link Romulus’ disappearance to supernatural origin, but rather prefaces it with immortal labours (his immortalibus editis operibus cum...).58 Extraordinary civic accomplishment, then, could lead to deification.
However, Cicero went further, especially towards the end of his career and in all likelihood as a response to Caesar’s increasing power in Rome. In the Pro Marcello, Cicero directly charges Caesar and Caesar alone to restore the state, a task he would normally think to give only to a god (quem deum, si cupiat, posse opitulari rei publicae credamus?).59 The lives of all Romans, as well as the existence of the state, are dependent on Caesar.60 Cicero says that Caesar’s glory depends on his completion of this task:
[Q]uicquid est enim, quamvis amplum sit, id est parum tum, cum est aliquid amplius. Quod si rerum tuarum immortalium, C. Caesar, hic exitus futurus fuit, ut devictis adversariis rem publicam in eo statu relinqueres, in quo nunc est, vide, quaeso, ne tua divina virtus admirationis plus sit habitura quam gloriae; si quidem gloria est inlustris ac pervagata magnorum vel in suos vel in patriam vel in omne genus hominum fama meritorum.
For whatever it is, how great soe’er it be, so long as there is aught greater, your achievement is too small. But if this, Gaius Caesar, was destined to be the issue of your mortal works, that, after subduing your adversaries, you should leave the state in the condition where it stands to-day, look to it, I beg of you, that your superhuman
54 Cic. De re publica 2.18.
55 Cole, Cicero and the rise of deification, 55; Cic. Cat. 3.1. 56
Cic. Cat. 3.2; Cole, Cicero and the rise of deification, 55-56. 57 Cic. De re publica 1.12.
58 Liv. 1.16.1. 59
Cic. Marc. 23. 60 Ibidem, 22.
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qualities win not admiration rather than glory – if indeed glory be bright and
widespread fame won by great services conferred upon a man’s own friends or upon his country or upon the human race at large.61
Caesar has already earned admiration for his military conquests, but he can only gain true, lasting glory if he dedicates himself to the restoration of the Roman state. So far Cicero only speaks of mundane glory, but later in the same speech Cicero directly appeals to Caesar’s wish for immortality:
Quamquam iste tuus animus numquam his angustiis, quas natura nobis ad vivendum dedit, contentus fuit, semper immortalitatis amore flagravit. Nec vero haec tua vita ducenda est, quae corpore et spiritu continetur: illa, inquam, illa vita est tua, quae vigebit memoria saeculorum omnium, quam posteritas alet, quam ipse aetarnitas semper tuebitur.
And yet your mighty spirit has never been content with the confines wherein nature has cribbed our lives; it has ever burned with the passion for immortality. But in truth it is no fabric moulded of body and breath that we should deem your life to be; nay – that, I say – is your true life, which shall energize in memory of all ages, which, posterity shall nourish and eternity itself always sustain.62
Cole also notes that Cicero’s mention of Caesar’s divina virtus presents a certain warning – were Caesar not to achieve his full potential, it may be thought that he failed to capitalise on a divine gift.63 As Cole concludes, Cicero presents Caesar’s divinity not as a given, but as a possible project to realise.64 While civic accomplishment can lead to deification, this in turn means that, for Cicero, deification had to be earned. He who attempted to place himself above the state, like Caesar, would assume a certain responsibility over the state, and was obliged to serve its interests.
The model of deification as proposed by Cicero, especially in the Pro Marcello, appears to be in line with Gradel’s view of apotheosis as an expression of relative status. For
61 Cic. Marc. 26. 62
Cic. Marc. 27-28.
63 Cole, Cicero and the rise of deification, 125-126. See also Cic. Marc. 29-30, where Cicero warns Caesar to be mindful of the judgement of future generations and even suggests that, in death, Caesar would be aware of his legacy.
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Gradel, divinising honours are granted by the worshiper in recognition of the subject’s far higher status. Gradel emphasises that, in the case of local élites, this is formulated as a way to understand and interact with the imposition of a new order placing them as the subjects of another human being, in this case the emperor.65 Cicero thought the same way. Not only was deification something that might be earned through service to the res publica, it is usually connected to an extraordinary person, a single individual who alone had power surpassing that of the state. In the Pro Lege Manilia Pompeius is presented as a man greater than any the Romans have ever known; in the Pro Marcello Cicero seems to acknowledge Caesar’s political domination when he addresses him as the only one who could restore the state. Furthermore, Ciceronian deification does not appear to be predetermined or irrevocable.
Finally, Cicero is curiously ambiguous about the deification itself. He does not claim that Romulus truly rose to the heavens to join the realm of the gods, only that he was thought to have done so (putaretur), and that this is an estimation held by those around him
(opinionem). As Cole rightly notes, this leaves a significant emphasis on the agency of the archaic Romans in both initiating and perpetuating the apotheosis, even adding that a similar usage of opinio is utilised at several other points in Cicero’s works, all in relation to
deification.66 Not dissimilar is Cicero’s description of Romulus in the third Catilinarian, seen above. The orator credits the Romans themselves for Romulus’ exaltation to godhood (ad
deos immortalis […] sustulimus’).67 A similar hint of agency may perhaps be seen, again, in Livius’ account of Romulus’ deification. Livius notes that Romulus was hailed as a god on the initiative of a few (a paucis initio facto) partially based simply on admiration for the man (admiratio viri).68 Cicero is acutely aware that cult requires a following. It is the opinio of humans that matters, since they keep the memory of the divinised person alive. This is likely why Cicero insists Tullia’s shrine be in a public place. Combined with the Ciceronian idea of an almost meritocratic divinity based on moral and civic accomplishment, this implies that humans, in the end, are the ones that decide whether or not deification is deserved. Apotheosis, then, is ultimately man-made.
Yet for Cicero, Caesar did not deserve such honour. This opposition to Caesar’s deification may be seen most clearly in the first of his Philippicae, delivered in early September 44. In it, Cicero railed against honours offered to the dead Caesar by the senate:
65
Gradel, Emperor worship, 101-103.
66 Ibidem, 94 and n. 85. Opinio appears in the Pro Sestio in relation to Hercules, in the Tusculanae Disputationes to the Ennian Romulus, and in the Consolatio to Tullia.
67
Cic. Cat. 3.2. 68 Liv. 1.16.3-4.
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An me censetis, patres conscripti, quod vos invite secuti estis, decreturum fuisse, ut parentalia cum supplicationibus miscerentur, ut inexpiabiles religiones in rem publicam inducerentur, ut decernerentur supplications mortuo? Nihil dico cui. Fuerit ille L. Brutus qui et ipse dominatu region rem publicam liberavit et ad similem virtutem et simile factum stirpem iam prope in quingentesimum annum propagavit: adduci tamen non possem ut quemquam mortuum coniungerem cum deorum
immortalium religione; ut, cuius sepulcrum usquam exstet ubi parentetur, ei publice supplicetur.
Or do you suppose, Members of the Senate, that I would have voted for the proposal to which you agreed against your will, namely that offerings to the dead be mixed up with public thanksgivings, that inexpiable sacrilege be introduced upon the Republic, that public thanksgivings be decreed to a dead man? Never mind which dead man. Let us say it was Lucius Brutus, who freed the republic from regal despotism and now, almost five hundred years later, has inspired his stock to a courageousness and a deed like to his own: even so, I would not be able to be led to link any dead man with the worship of the immortal gods, so that prayers of public thanksgiving are addressed to one whose tomb, where offerings can be made to the departed spirit, exists
somewhere.69
Cicero is adamant– offerings made to the Roman gods cannot and must not be in any way connected to the deceased. Supplicationes given in the name of generals or consuls were customary, dating back at least to the Samnite Wars.70 The dead were honoured through different ritual form, and for Cicero, awarding thanksgivings to them would be a breach of sacral law.71 Furthermore, Cicero takes exception to use of a tomb as an altar. This appears to refer directly to a monument set up in the Forum after Caesar’s death, on the spot where the dictator’s body had been cremated. Cicero despised the place and abhorred the fact it had been used for cultic purposes. For the senate to give thanks to a dead man was, to his eyes, too similar to supplicating at a tomb.72 This may seem hypocritical, considering Cicero’s wishes for Tullia’s shrine. Cicero is likely simply using religious arguments to object to the honours
69 Cic. Phil. 1.13. 70 Livy, 10.21.6. 71
Koortbojian, The divinization of Caesar and Augustus, 5-6. 72 Ibidem, 6.
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to Caesar. His true opinion may be seen in his reference to Lucius Brutus. Lucius Brutus had liberated Rome from a despot, and now Marcus and Decimus Brutus had done the same. Caesar had been a new Tarquinius, a tyrant unworthy of reverence, and a decree to supplicate him in death would be an offense to both Roman religion and the Roman state. Caesar had not lived up to the challenge Cicero had set for him in the Pro Marcello.
As has been seen, then, the deification of Caesar must not be seen as extraordinarily innovative or unprecedented. The honours given to Caesar were established Roman religious forms. The treatment of Caesar as one of the gods was also not new – earlier republican figures such as Marius, the Gracchi and even Metellus Pius were honoured quasi deo. The theme of an ‘earthly Jupiter’ had appeared as early as the third century in Plautine comedy. Cicero, often seen as a staunch republican, may have opposed the notion of deification in his
Philippicae, but elsewhere in his work he acted as a proponent, possibly even a leading
cultural force, of apotheosis. Not only did he wish to immortalise his deceased daughter – arguably a private cult –, he exalted statesmen such as Pompeius. Significant, however, is the experimental nature of these distinctions. There was no established package of honours offered to generals, and Cicero’s speeches were similarly exploratory. More than simply present, the notion of deification was alive in the late republic, subject to trial and discussion.
In the middle of this creative atmosphere, Cicero appears to have eventually
constructed a kind of model for apotheosis. The term model must be treated very carefully – Cicero was certainly not consistent; never has he himself presented his views on deification as a package, and they cannot be held as fully representative of Roman religious thinking. That said, Cicero’s writings provide remarkable prerequisites for apotheosis. For Cicero, a deified man was a god mainly through the esteem of his fellows. Ciceronian apotheosis is
meritocratic, an honour earned through services to the state. A god, or at least one recognised to have been human in life, was man-made. This Ciceronian view is in line with Gradel’s theory of relative divinity. For Gradel, deification can be seen as an extension of status, an expression of the position of one individual above the normal functioning of the state. Cicero describes Caesar in a similar way, establishing him as the only one capable of restoring the republic, with immortal glory as his reward. In Gradel’s terms, Caesar’s power over the state was recognised and honoured through divine cult, so as to avoid undermining the status of the state itself by placing it in the hands of not just a mortal man, but a powerful god. As Gradel recognises, the novelty lay not in the response to a sole ruler (i.e. ruler cult) but in fact there
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was a sole ruler at all.73 In Caesar’s case, it is clear from the last two chapters that Romans were well familiar with honouring powerful individuals – but they were unfamiliar with the
extent of Caesar’s power. Finally, Gradel’s relative divinity, much like Cicero’s view on the
deification of statesmen, is an expression of status made by other humans. In Cicero’s eyes, Caesar repeatedly forsook the civic duty assigned to him as ruler of the state, and was undeserving of apotheosis. Cicero’s opinion, of course, did not prevail. Julius Caesar was deified. In accordance with both Gradel and Cicero, this means Caesar’s deification was supported by others. Who were they, and why did they think Caesar deserved godhood?
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III. Popular power
In the political system of the late republic in which Caesar rose to power, the populus held an important position. From the 1980s onward, much academic research has been done into the extent of the political power and the agency held by the ‘common people’ of the last century BCE, from the pens of authors such as Fergus Millar, Henrik Mouritsen, Robert Morstein-Marx and Karl-Joachim Hölkeskamp.74 This research has done much to expand our
knowledge of the workings of the late republic and its politics, and has offered insight into the rise to power of the ‘great men’ of the Roman state, from Marius to Caesar, as well as into the nature of their supporters. So far, however, such insights have not been applied to what may be perhaps be seen as the climax of Caesar’s rise to power, his deification. This may seem irrelevant if Caesar’s deification rested only on decrees made either by himself or by his political successors. However, I argue that Caesar’s deification was made not only by tyrannical decree but was also built upon substantial popular support. If this is to be true, we must examine the political power of the people of the late republic, and the extent of popular support for Caesar in general. These must have, in Gradelian terms, wished to recognise Caesar’s position over the state with extraordinary honours, not unlike how Cicero charged Caesar with the restoration of the state in the Pro Marcello. But whereas Cicero believed Caesar unfit, these supporters must have thought Caesar worthy not only of caring for the state, but believed that through his service he had earned to be placed among the gods.
Such popular belief, however, is rather meaningless if the populus Romanus were a silent citizenry without any involvement in the political system. In order to examine to what extent a popular support for Caesar’s deification could have influenced, if not shaped, the eventual apotheosis, first we must understand the role the populus played in the political system of the late republic. To this end, I turn to the topic of the contio. Admittedly, the
contiones had no voting power and thus cannot have been involved with the legal aspect of
deifying Caesar. However, in academic research into the way Roman politicians interacted with the populus, much focus has been put on these contiones, as they offer insight into the
74 Debate was sparked by Fergus Millar, ‘The political character of the classical Roman republic’, JRS 74 (1984), 1-19. For an overview of the question as well as a list of contributions to this extensive debate, see Alexander Yakobson, ‘Popular power in the Roman republic’, in: Nathan Rosenstein and Robert Morstein-Marx (eds.), A
companion to the Roman republic (Oxford etc 2006) 383-400. For a more in-depth examination of the debate,
see Karl-Joachim Hölkeskamp, Reconstructing the Roman republic (Princeton and Oxford 2010), especially 1-11, with a reading list at 10 n. 35. The chapter below is chiefly based on Fergus Millar, The crowd in Rome in the
late republic (Ann Arbor 1998), Robert Morstein-Marx, Mass oratory and political power in the late Roman republic (Cambridge 2004) and Henrik Mouritsen, Plebs and politics in the late Roman republic (Cambridge
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relationship between people and politicians in general.75 In effect, the contiones illustrate in what way the populus could have been involved in Caesar’s apotheosis. As will be seen, the
contiones of the late Republic illustrate that Roman politicians both had a strong influence
over the populus – or at least the fiction of a ‘popular will’ – as well as a considerable fear of negative reception. This interplay will prove central in the road to Caesar’s deification. Furthermore, some of the steps towards deification taken after Caesar’s death, as will be seen in the fifth chapter, take place in a situation that is distinctively contional in nature.
The contiones were public assemblies without voting power, where politicians held speeches to an audience to inform or influence the public.76 The contiones were central to political life and were used for many purposes. Senatorial decrees were delivered in contione, as were important speeches such as the final peace offers in the civil war between Caesar and Pompeius or Octavianus’ promise to pay Caesar’s debts. Magistrates began and ended their tenures with contiones. At such occasions, the statesmen addressed their audience as the
populus Romanus, transforming a limited audience into the whole of the citizenry. Thus it
could be said of any such contio that it expressed the will of the people. If a single contional audience approved of a politician, he could claim to have the support of the populus Romanus as a whole.
Before we further examine the role of the Roman populace in late republican politics, some notes of caution must be made. Despite my attempt to emphasise popular agency, Rome must not be mistaken for a modern democracy. As noted by Hölkeskamp, the Roman electoral system was not a fully democratic one, and did not allow for any expression of a popular sovereign will.77 The assemblies chose from among the candidates, who generally all were produced by the privileged echelons of society. This does not mean, however, that assemblies or contiones had no power. In fact, Hölkeskamp argues that the assemblies were an integral part of the political system of Rome. Roman politics were highly competitive, and the system required a neutral ground for this competition to be decided. The competitiveness of the political class itself made it impossible for the élite create an impartial institution to judge political candidates.78 A third, more independent, party was necessary, and it was to be found in the popular assemblies. This reading clarifies the apparent contradictions in the Roman
75 Mouritsen, Plebs and politics, 38-40; Fergus Millar, ‘Popular politics at Rome in the late republic’, in: Irad Malkin and Z.W. Rubinsohn eds. Leaders and masses in the Roman world. Studies in honor of Zvi Yavetz (Leiden, New York, Cologne 1995), 91-113, 113.
76 Morstein-Marx, Mass oratory, 3, 34-36; Mouritsen, Plebs and politics, 38-40; Millar, The crowd in Rome, 13; Hölkeskamp, Reconstructing the Roman republic, 102-103.
77
Hölkeskamp, Reconstructing the Roman republic, 93. 78 Ibidem, 94.
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system. The Roman populus was perhaps sovereign in theory, yet still mainly remained subordinate to the political leadership. Politicians highly valued the support and consent, or rather the illusion of such, of the citizenry without truly giving them political power. In a sense, the Roman populace may perhaps better be interpreted as an audience. They certainly had a voice, but it was mainly a reactive one, responding to the statements or actions of the political élite. As such, the élite employed all the tactics they could to sway the populus. Despite the limited role of the populus, the system relied on the unpredictable and malleable nature of the electorate.
Despite my usage of phrases such as ‘political élite’, it is vital to understand that the Roman aristocracy was not truly hereditary or exclusive. It is true that the high offices were generally controlled by a relatively small number of families, and that homines novi like Cicero were uncommon. That said, the status and power of the ‘consular’ families was always precarious; almost none of the powerful families of the republic remained powerful. The Fabii Maximi rose to power and fell again before the end of the republic, as did the Caecili Metelli and Claudii Marcelli; the one family that remained influential throughout the existence of the republic, the Claudii Pulchri, must be seen as the exception to the rule.79
To fully examine the ways in which Rome differs from modern democracies is far beyond the scope of my thesis. However, any description of popular action and agency needs to be understood within the context of a political system in which the Roman populus had a voice, but a very limited voice. Two aspects of the Roman structure are of consequence to my thesis. First, the Roman system was not truly deliberate or discursive. In a true, Habermasian deliberative democracy, all participants in the discourse must have equal access to both the setting of agendas and the making of decisions, and must be equal in resources and the capacity to influence others.80 In Rome, such power lay chiefly with the élite. The populus, while championed by the tribunes, had little direct voice aside from votes and general expressions of agreement or dissatisfaction in the contiones. The agenda was set squarely by those who called together an assembly or brought forward a legal proposal. It was the populus’ role to simply react with cheers or boos.
The second difference between the Roman system and more modern ideas of democracy that has influence on my research is that the Roman political system was in no way representative. The voting procedures of the various forms of comitia have long been understood to be unequally distributed among the populace, favouring the votes of privileged
79
Hölkeskamp, Reconstructing the Roman republic, 95-97. 80 Morstein-Marx, Mass oratory, 22.
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classes and granting small amounts of votes to large parts of the populace. The contiones were even less representative. Spatially, the fact that they were mainly held in the Forum means that the audience they drew was limited.81 The exact composition of this audience remains disputed amongst academics. Morstein-Marx suggests it mostly consisted of those present in that area of the city, urban businessmen like shopkeepers and craftsmen.82 Mouritsen, however, argues that those present in the Forum would have been men of some substance, who had the freedom to engage in politics.83 In both cases, however, the audience remains distinctly urban. At other times, however, contiones will have been held close to festival or market days, and would have drawn a far wider audience.84 This was certainly the case with Cicero’s recall from exile. The contio that started this procedure took place in early July 57, a period of many festivals. Later, Cicero would expressly note that those who supported his recall came from the municipalities of Italy, incited by Spinther and Pompeius.85 The composition of a contional audience varied, depending on the day the contio was held, the matter that was being discussed, and the agency of the presiding politician in choosing his audience. The mere fact the contional audience could vary to such an extent illustrates that it could not truly be representative of the Roman populus as a whole.
Even Fergus Millar, a strong proponent of a ‘democratic’ reading of Roman politics, recognises that in the 50s BCE, popular politics were in decline, partly due to the growing power and influence of persons such as Caesar.86 Nevertheless, such persons did not fully control politics, and were still forced to rely on methods of persuasion. Sometimes, their methods failed. This may be seen clearly in the trials of Aulus Gabinius, a close friend of Pompeius. Charged with treason for his conduct in Syria, Gabinius faced a hostile populus. Only through bribery was Gabinius acquitted. However, a second trial was called on another charge. This time, Gabinius was voted guilty and subsequently exiled. Dio suggests that the judges were fearful of the reaction of the populace.87 Even the personal intervention of several leading men – Pompeius, Cicero and, through a letter, Caesar, could not save Gabinius.88
Similarly indicative of the nature of Roman politics in the late republic were the consular elections for 53. As Cicero reports, bribery was rampant. Initially, Caesar and
81 Mouritsen, Plebs and politics, 24-26.
82 Morstein-Marx, Mass oratory, 41-42 and 128-129. 83 Mouritsen, Plebs and politics, 40-45.
84
Morstein-Marx, Mass oratory, 41.
85 Ibidem, 148-149 and Cic. Red. Sen. 26-27; Pis. 34, 80. 86 Millar, The crowd in Rome, 167.
87
Dio 39.63.2.
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Pompeius supported the same candidate, a man named Memmius.89 Less than a month later, Pompeius had shifted his support, and the two current consuls were championing Memmius together with yet another, Domitius.90 By October, Memmius had admitted to making an alliance with Domitius and bribing the current consuls. The interesting aspect of this episode lies in its follow-up. The senate attempted to establish an inquiry into the situation with the goal of restoring proper procedure. This was foiled by some of the would-be judges, who appealed to the tribunes with the argument that the inquiry was illegal, since it had not been voted upon by the assembly.91 In some sense, as Millar notes, the political system was still subject to the rule of popular sovereignty.92 Despite the undermining of the established systems of the Roman state, Roman politicians still needed, and wished, to secure the support of the populus.
The composition of the contional audience was never the exact same, dependant on the politician calling for the contio in question. Morstein-Marx argues that most attendants would be summoned by the politicians themselves, either to add further support to their cause or to discredit an opponent.93 If Cicero is to be taken at his word, the contional ‘populus Romanus’ that opposed his recall from exile was nothing more than a band of hirelings (mercenarii) brought together by Cicero’s Clodian opponents.94
Appianus describes how Caesar’s assassins hired people from the lowest dregs of society in an attempt to find vocal support of the
assassination.95 Not all, however, had to resort to buying their followers. Politicians were able to build up a ‘party’ of supporters. The most notable example is P. Clodius who was able to quickly call up a supportive crowd that he had drilled in a call-and-response.96
Such control of the contional crowd, however, was never fully complete, and politicians struggled to keep even their own followers in line. The people hired by Caesar’s assassins did not praise the murder as they had been ordered and only demanded
reconciliation.97 Even when L. Cornelius Cinna spoke in favour of the assassins and accused Caesar of tyranny, they continued to call only for peace. According to Appianus, the hirelings had been cowed by the rest of the crowd, which received Cinna’s words with little enthusiasm. The claque hired to sway the opinion of the crowd was silenced by its very target. Though the
89 Cic. Att. 4.16.6. 90 Cic. Att. 4.15.7. 91 Cic. Att. 4.17.2-3.
92 Millar, The crowd in Rome, 179. 93
Morstein-Marx, Mass oratory, 131. 94 Cic. Sest. 126.
95 App. BC 2.120. 96
Morstein-Marx, Mass oratory, 133-134; Dio 39.19.1. 97 App. BC 2.121.
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assassins’ mercenarii were recruited only in the moment, more organised supporters could also rebel against the wishes of their masters. Cicero gleefully noted an occasion at which Clodius’ own contio laughed at him.98
Besides offering a statesman the opportunity to cultivate or create support, the
contiones also functioned as weapons. It was common practice, if not customary, for
opponents of a bill to be given the chance to speak out against it during a contio.99 However, this does not mean that these assemblies permitted truly open debate. The magistrate
presiding over the contio had the power to choose which opponents would speak, and could also impose a time limit on their speech.100 Considering too that part of the contional audience would be made up by drafted supporters of the presiding magistrate, opponent speakers were at a distinct disadvantage. In fact, it seems that at times the contio was used to directly attack or undermine political enemies.101 As Cicero recalls, the tribune G. Carbo asked Scipio Aemilianus about the death of Tiberius Gracchus ‘maliciously’ (seditiose), with the intention of pressuring him in the face of an outraged audience.102 In fact, the practice of arousing indignation (concitatio invidiae) in one’s audience was a recognised tactic, which was discussed in rhetorical handbooks of the time.103
The usage of popular outrage by politicians could be powerful and intimidating. A Roman statesman could be faced with a hostile audience before him, especially at a contio called by a political opponent. Throughout the histories preserved to us, descriptions of the power of an enraged mob paint a vivid picture. Both Plutarchus and Dio describe how a tribune opposing the famous anti-pirate command of Pompeius failed to be heard over the noise of the assembly and had to resort to gesturing with his fingers, only for the crowd to let out a roar that knocked a bird out of the sky.104 Another description is seen in Valerius Maximus, who describes Sempronia, the sister of the Gracchi, being confronted by the power of the tribune as ‘a mighty power bore down on [her], grim of visage, pouring threats, the ignorant crowd clamoured at [her], the whole Forum strove forcefully [...]’. Valerius even adds that in this same place, the leaders of the state often lost their composure.105 The crowd
98 Cic Har. resp. 8. 99 Ibidem, 162.
100 Mouritsen, Plebs and politics, 46 and Morstein-Marx, Mass oratory, 163. 101 Mouritsen, Plebs and politics, 53.
102
Cic. Mil. 8, with Morstein-Marx, Mass oratory, 164-165. 103 Rhet. Her. 1.8, with Morstein-Marx, Mass oratory, 236-237.
104 Dio 36.30.3; Plut. Pomp. 25.6. As Morstein-Marx, Mass oratory,119 notes, description of birds falling from the sky are topos; nonetheless the image of a great uproar stands.
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was a terrifying thing, and not without reason. Stonings of politicians were not uncommon.106 Plutarchus records that one of the consuls of 67 was nearly torn apart by the crowd for his opposition to Pompeius.107 The contional crowd, then, was something to be feared.
The combination of the power of the contional audience and the control over the
contio enjoyed by the presiding magistrate meant that it could be used as a weapon. An
example may be seen with Caesar himself. In 59, Caesar presented his first agrarian bill in a
contio. Dio states that Caesar was purposefully not bringing his legislation to the senate, and
hoped that they would reconsider their position out of a fear for the populus.108 Furthermore, Caesar brought his consular colleague, M. Bibulus, before the contio and asked him if he had any criticism against the law. When Bibulus reacted noncommittally, Caesar attempted to persuade him, with the crowd joining in on Caesar’s behalf.109
While Bibulus resisted
Caesar’s pressuring, others did not, and when Bibulus opposed the law in the senate he gained no support, ‘since all were under the spell of the multitude's enthusiasm.’110
The practice of bringing a political opponent before a contio, however, was not without its dangers, and could also backfire on the presiding magistrate. In 133, the tribunes dragged a group of senators before an assembly and demanded they answer for the murder of T. Gracchus. In the face of an outraged crowd, P. Scipio Nasica maintained his calm, then simply admitted to the deed and explained his rationale. Diodorus Siculus reports that the crowd fell silent, awed by Nasica’s gravitas, and refrained from further action against him.111
But T. Gracchus himself was not exempt from the ire of the contio. When T. Annius challenged Gracchus in the senate for deposing his tribunicial colleague M. Octavius,
Gracchus instead had Annius summoned before an assembly with the intention of denouncing him. Before the contio, Annius caught Gracchus off-guard by asking a piercing question. A disconcerted Gracchus promptly disbanded the gathering, and later felt forced to give an extensive apology. Plutarchus states that the multitude had turned against Gracchus, and that he had to secure the favour of the people in order to secure another term.112
Despite the various means of control and manipulation exercised by the presiding magistrate, the contional audience was essentially varied. More importantly yet is that it was
unpredictable. This may be seen in the contest of the aedileship of 55, and Cicero’s
106 Morstein-Marx, Mass oratory, 165. 107 Plut. Pomp. 25.4. 108 Dio 38.4.2. 109 Ibidem, 38.4.3. 110 Ibidem, 38.6.4. 111 Diod. 34/35.33.7.
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subsequent defence of the victor, Gnaeus Plancius. The electoral results were contested by Plancius’ opponent M. Iuventius Laterensis, who came from Tusculum, an important
municipium close to Rome, and whose patrilineal and matrilineal families had both produced
consuls. In contrast, Plancius was merely an eques from the smaller and more remote town of Atina. Laterensis argued that a man of such modest origins would not have been able to secure the required support legally. In his defence of Plancius, Cicero stresses the unpredictable nature of electoral results. Furthermore, Cicero emphasises that Plancius’ modest origins actually benefited him. At Tusculum a contest for the aedileship was only of minor note. But Atina was home to a large number of equites and other persons of middling rank, which had both interest in seeing one of their own elected as well as the means to travel to Rome to vote. Furthermore, Plancius had not only been supported by those from Atina, but also from a number of other towns in its neighbourhood including Cicero’s own birthplace of Arpinium.113 While it may be that Plancius simply canvassed more successfully than his opponent (or even that he did cheat), this does not refute Cicero’s comparison of Tusculum and Atina. A ‘new man’ from a remoter part of Italy could well have been in a position to rally the support needed to defeat a distinguished man from Rome and its surroundings, where interest in politics was far more high-stakes and far more fractured. We may well imagine that Cicero himself received similar support to Plancius’ for his recall from exile only two years earlier; that is, from people hailing from his own home region. When the Italian communities engaged in the political world of the capital, their relative newness to the Roman system may have brought higher enthusiasm. Such engagement, however, depended on the matter being discussed, leaving considerable room for unpredictability and randomness in the Roman electorate.
It has been seen that, despite the decline of popular politics and the rise of increasingly authoritarian leaders such as Caesar, the Roman political system in the late republic still remained – to some extent – dynamic. Despite the many forms of manipulation available to statesmen, they still had to fight hard to secure popular support, and it was not uncommon for them to fail. While the chapter above is mainly concerned with the contiones, I believe that the conclusions drawn from examining them are not limited to the contiones alone, and offer a more general insight in to the late republic. Furthermore, as will be seen in the fifth chapter, the contional atmosphere illustrated here bears striking resemblances to the chaotic events following Caesar’s assassination. For now, several things may be noted. The grip of élite
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politicians on the populus was considerable yet not absolute. Far from an equal partner in politics, the populace was more of an audience. Yet as an audience it still had a, admittedly limited, voice. The populace could easily turn against politicians, who are on numerous occasions described as fearful of the popular reaction. The public could be manipulated, bought, or misrepresented by henchmen and allies. However, such means of control were again not absolute, and several instances are known to us where a statesman was abandoned by his hirelings, who were intimidated either by another politician, or by the rest of the audience. Finally, it has been seen that the Roman electorate still remained varied, bringing into politics a degree of unpredictability that could not be controlled. In the late republic, the movements of the great statesman were under-built by a large and dynamic pool of popular power. This source could be tapped into, but could also slip from their control. The
relationship between popular will and politicians may perhaps be best illustrated by Cicero’s
De Legibus:
Sapientis autem civis fuit, causam nec perniciosam et ita popularem ut non posset obsisti, perniciose populari civi non relinquere.
It was the duty of a wise citizen, in dealing with an institution not evil in itself and so dear to the people that it could not be combated, not to leave its defence to a popular leader, which would have had evil consequences.114
The will of the populus did not only have power to it, but it could also pose a danger to the political élite. If not addressed by one of the boni, a cause that had popular support but no élite champion could well be taken up by some, to Cicero’s eyes, un-republican element in an attempt to rise to power.
