23
CAESAR had spent part of the summer of 50 in a tour of his province of Cisalpine Gaul, where he had been received with such enthusiasm that one cannot help suspecting his election agents had been busy among the people well in advance. Certainly he had wanted the Romans to hear how popular he was among those whose lives he administered, and possibly hoped too that his enemies in that quarter would note how these hardy provincials (who had proved their worth in the legions) reacted to his presence. Now, in December, having made his dispositions for the troops in Gaul, he came back again to hear it confirmed that the two legions he had sent for the senate’s use in Syria were held in Capua, and that Pompey was in command of them and was preparing to mobilize others. Curio joined Caesar in Ravenna, straight from the capital, where, according to Appian, he feared for his life and “could no longer hope to serve Caesar’s interests’—being no longer tribune since December. Other supporters would follow him to Ravenna as the unlikelihood of any reconciliation between Caesar and Pompey became more and more obvious. Meanwhile in Rome another of Caesar’s protégés, Mark Antony, who had been elected as tribune in Curio’s place, was already busy doing his best to protect his interests.
In Cisalpine Gaul Caesar was busy seeing to the concentration of the single legion in Cisalpine Gaul, and arranging with great secrecy for other legions from Transalpine Gaul to start for Italy. With only one legion to hand, he was far outnumbered by the forces at Pompey’s disposal, and for this reason he temporized as far as possible and continued negotiations with the senate. It was far from certain, if it came to civil war between himself and Pompey, that his followers would be in the majority—and almost certain that they would be among the most disreputable. Ever since the days of Catiline, indeed ever since Caesar had begun to practice the political arts, he had made himself the champion of the bankrupt, the dispossessed, the unscrupulous and the ill-famed. If “the people” also followed him it was largely because they too, wittingly or unwittingly, had been bought. It was true that many members of the equestrian order were among his followers, as well as senior officers, the centurions and the soldiers, but most of the old ruling class looked on him askance.
Pompey, for his part, could lay claim to the support of a better and more well-established class of followers—differently, but not better-intentioned. When he had first come to Rome he had seen himself as Princeps, first above all, but he had gradually reconciled himself to being first among equals. Since his new marriage and his reconciliation with the Optimates, he had inclined toward their position. He had, after all, been a follower of Sulla and he never significantly changed. Earlier that year Cicero’s correspondent Caelius had analyzed the situation in Rome as he saw it:
I am sure of course that you realize that, in the case of a domestic dissension, men should support the side that is right so long as it is a matter of politics, but that when it comes to weapons and warfare then they must support the stronger side, taking the view that might is right. [Caelius finally chose Caesar’s.] Now in this quarrel I perceive that Pompey will have with him the senate and the judiciary, but that Caesar will have the support of all those who have anything to fear and nothing to lose. In any case, the latter’s army is infinitely better than Pompey’s.
Caesar knew this as well as anybody, but it is clear that right up to the last he hoped that he could maintain his official dignity, acting in accordance with the rule of law and the requirements of the senate.
Early in December he informed the senate privately that he would be willing to give up his command of Transalpine Gaul and content himself with Cisalpine Gaul, Illyricum and only two legions until such time as he was consul. Although on the surface this meant that he was relinquishing the fruits of all his endeavors of recent years, it still meant in effect that he would not be standing for consul as a private citizen. Marcellus and those of Cato’s persuasion remained adamant against making any concessions. Meanwhile Antony in his position as tribune continued to harass Pompey and his followers, carrying an edict through the popular Assembly requiring the immediate departure of the two legions for Syria and forbidding Pompey to mobilize any troops. While Cicero, who was now back in Italy, attempted to persuade Caesar to reduce his demands to Illyricum and one legion alone, and Cato spoke out against having any truck with him at all, one obscure senator proposed that Pompey should leave for his own province of Spain and thus armed conflict could be avoided. Naturally those who were dependent on the protection of Pompey indignantly rejected the suggestion. Prior to this, Curio had brought an official dispatch from Caesar in Ravenna that, if he was not allowed to keep his provinces pending the elections, then he and all other holders of military commands (by which he meant Pompey) should resign their authority simultaneously. This met with such antagonism from the senate that it was clear to the tribunes, Antony and Cassius, that no further dialogue was possible.
The senate now hastened toward the fatal decree: Caesar, by a date which should be fixed at once, must disband his army on pain of being considered an enemy of the State. Antony attempted to use his veto but was ruled out of court on a legal nicety, debate about which then kept the members busy for many hours. But the real decision had been taken, although it was not until three days later that the senate finally gave the charge to the consuls and others in authority in the vicinity of the city (this included Pompey) to “protect the interests of the state.” The two tribunes, Antony and Cassius, fled Rome disguised as slaves and made their way north to
Caesar, and no doubt a good many others followed them. They knew that this was the real declaration of war against Caesar. Short of handing over his proconsular commands and coming to Rome as a private citizen (to deliver himself to his enemies) Caesar had no option but to act as he did. Arms were already being requisitioned throughout Italy, mobilization had been ordered, and the man appointed to relieve him of his command was L. Domitius, a sworn enemy ever since his consulship.
It was probably on the morning of 10 January 49 that Caesar heard of the senate’s decision (it took three days to cover the 140 miles between Rome and Ravenna). He had at the moment only his one legion, whereas Pompey had the two at Capua and was mobilizing the resources of Italy and the Empire. Caesar had to move fast and—fortunately for him—this ability, which had proved itself so valuable in Gaul, remained one of his greatest assets. Pompey, a slightly older man, had never felt the necessity in his eastern campaigns for the mercurial flexibility that Caesar had required against untried enemies in unknown countries. Any doubts Caesar may have had in the preceding weeks were resolved by now. The news from the senate that he had been declared an enemy of the state was unknown as yet to his men; so too the fact that the two tribunes (whose persons were supposed to be sacrosanct) had fled the city. His dispositions were all made. Two experienced legions were on their way from Gaul, as well as twenty-two new cohorts, while the three legions in the south of the province guarded his western flank against any attack by Pompey’s supporters in Spain. Many legends were later to surround all the circumstances of that fateful day, and both Plutarch and Suetonius have their own accounts, which, though they vary in details, present the same overall picture. Suetonius writes as follows:
When the news came that the veto of the tribunes had been disallowed and that they themselves had fled the city, he immediately sent a few cohorts ahead with all secrecy, and disarmed suspicion by appearing at a public show, inspecting the plans of a gladiatorial school which he proposed building, and dining as usual with a number of guests. After sunset he set out very secretly with some members of his staff, having borrowed the mules from a nearby baker’s shop and harnessed them to a small carriage. When the lights went out, he lost his way and they wandered aimlessly for some time, until at last at dawn they found a guide who led them back on foot by narrow lanes until they reached the road. Caesar overtook his advance guard at the boundary of his province, the river Rubicon, which formed the frontier between Italy and Gaul. Well aware of what a step he was taking he paused a while and then turned to his staff, saying: “We may still draw back, but once across that little bridge and the issue rests with the sword.”
Appian, on unknown authority, has him hesitate at this moment, while Plutarch, basing his account on Asinius Pollio, an intimate of Caesar’s who was present at the time, also has him debate what calamities his crossing the river might bring upon the human race. But such hesitation as there may have been was clearly momentary. With the gambler’s cry “The die is cast!” or, in another account, with the words from Menander, his favorite Greek poet, “Let the dice fly high!” he gestured forward across the river.
The Rubicon (now called the Fiumicino, little river or stream) was nothing in itself; it was what it represented. By taking his army across the boundary between his province and the Italian homeland, Caesar was breaking a Sullan law which forbade governors to do just this, for the great dictator had foreseen the dangers to the state from ambitious commanders. Caesar was now guilty of the very treason of which he had already been accused.