In obtaining this office, Cæsar achieved a great triumph. He also increased his power, and reached a situation which enabled him still more to flatter the people. An event, however, occurred about this time, which gave him great annoyance. During the ceremonies in honor of the Bona Dea, at his house, a profligate person, named Clodius, disguised as a woman, gained access to the festivities. This caused a great deal of scandal, and Cæsar divorced his wife, Pompeia, whom he had married after the death of Cornelia.
In the year 63 B. C., a conspiracy, which had for its object the subversion of the Roman government, was detected by Cicero, the orator, then consul. It was headed by Cataline, a Roman nobleman of dissolute habits, whose life had been stained with many crimes. His accomplices were men of similar character, who took an oath of fidelity to the cause, which they sealed by drinking human blood. After the disclosure of the plot, Cataline braved the senate for a time, but five of his associates being seized, he fled to Gaul, where, having raised some troops, he was attacked, and fell, bravely fighting to the last.
When the trial of the five accomplices came on in the Roman senate, there was but a single person who dared to oppose their execution, and this was Cæsar. His courage, moral or physical, never failed him. In policy and war, he often undertook what might seem the most desperate schemes, yet the event usually bore out his judgment, or his skill and energy generally ensured success. In the present case, he failed; though his speech in the senate had a wonderful effect. Even Cicero wavered. As that speech is handed down by Sallust, it is a masterly performance. It gave Cæsar a high place as an orator, he being now regarded as second to Cicero alone. Though he did not obtain his direct object respecting the conspirators, and was driven from his office by the aristocratic faction, he gained more than he lost, by increased popularity with the plebeians.
In the year 60 B. C., when the time was approaching for the choice of consuls, Cæsar being a candidate, the aristocratic faction saw that they could not defeat his election; they therefore thought to check him, by associating with him Bibulus, one of their own party. When the election took place, Cæsar and Bibulus were chosen. The latter was rather a weak man, and offered no effectual obstacle to Cæsar’s schemes. On one occasion, he determined to check his colleague, and for this purpose, resorted to the use of an extreme power, vested, however, in his hands. It was the custom, before any public business, to consult the augurs. These were officers of state, who were supposed to foretell future events.
The augur sat upon a high tower, where he studied the heavens, and particularly noticed comets, thunder and lightning, rain and tempest. The chirping or flying of birds—the sudden crossing of the path by quadrupeds—accidents, such as spilling salt hearing strange noises, sneezing, stumbling, &c.—were all esteemed ominous, and were the means by which the soothsayers pretended to unravel the fate of men and of nations. When these gave an unfavorable report, a consul could stop public business, and even break up the sittings of the senate. Bibulus resorted to the use of this power, and not only declared that the augurs were unfavorable, but that they would be so all the year! This extravagant stretch of authority was turned to ridicule by Cæsar and his friends, and the baffled consul, in disgust and shame, shut himself up in his own house. Cæsar was now, in fact, the sole consul of Rome.
Pompey the Great was at this period in the full flush of his fame. His military achievements had been of the most splendid character. He was, therefore, a man of the highest consideration, and even superior to Cæsar in standing. The latter, by a series of intrigues, gained his favor, and these two, rivals at heart, both yearning for supreme authority in Rome, entered into a political alliance, which they cemented by the marriage of Julia, Cæsar’s daughter, to Pompey. It mattered not, among these unscrupulous politicians, that Julia had long been betrothed to Marcus Brutus. Cæsar, at this time, also took a wife, named Calpurnia, daughter of Piso—a political match, which greatly enlarged his power. Three great men were now at the head of affairs in Rome—Cæsar, Pompey, and Crassus—and this union is called in history the First Triumvirate.
Cæsar was, however, the master as well of the senate as of the people. By his influence, an agrarian law was passed, for the division of some public lands in Campania, among the poorer citizens, which he carried by intimidation. Everything gave way before him; even Cicero, who was in his way, was banished. Cæsar’s desire was now to have an army at his command: this he obtained, being appointed to the charge of the provinces of Gaul, on both sides of the Alps, for five years.
From this time, the history of Rome presents a striking parallel to that of the republic of France during Bonaparte’s first campaigns in Italy. In both cases we see a weak republic, torn by contending factions, and rather feeding discontent than seeking tranquillity. In both cases we see vast provinces of the distracted republic occupied by a general of unlimited powers—a man of superior genius, desperate resolves, and fearful cruelty—a man, who, under the show of democratic principles and a love of the people, gains a complete ascendency over the soldiers, that he may lead them on to victory, bloodshed, plunder, and despotism!
We shall not follow Cæsar in the details of his victorious career. It is sufficient to say, that, in nine campaigns, he waged war against the numerous tribes which occupied the present territory of France, Britain, Switzerland, and Germany. Some of these were warlike and populous nations, and frequently brought into the field immense armies of fierce and formidable soldiery. Though often pushed to extremity, by a series of splendid achievements, Cæsar reduced them all to subjection at last. During this period, it is said that he fought nearly a thousand battles, captured eight hundred towns, slew a million of men, and reduced to captivity as many more! If the warrior’s glory is estimated by the blood he sheds, the life he extinguishes, the liberty he destroys—Cæsar’s crown must be one of surpassing splendor.
Though Cæsar did not visit Rome during this long period, he was by no means ignorant of what was transpiring there. It was his custom to spend his winters in Cisalpine Gaul, that is, on the southern side of the Alps, about two hundred and fifty miles from Rome. Here he was able to keep up a correspondence with his friends, and to mingle in all the intrigues that agitated the mighty city—the heart of the empire.