The public shows with which these gratifications were accompanied were carried out on a scale of greater magnificence than even those recently exhibited by Pompey. There was nothing in which the magistrates of the republic vied more ostentatiously with one another than in the number of wild beasts and gladiators which they brought into the arena. The natural taste of the Italian people for shows and mummery degenerated more and more into an appetite for blood; but in this, as in every other respect, it was Cæsar’s ambition to outdo his predecessors, and the extraordinary ferocity and carnage of the exhibitions which he complacently witnessed excited a shudder even in the brutal multitude. The combatants in the games of the Circus were either professional gladiators, who sold their services for a certain term of years, or captives taken in war, or lastly public criminals. But Cæsar was, perhaps, the first to encourage private citizens to make an exhibition of their skill and valour in these mortal combats. He allowed several men of equestrian rank, and one the son of a prætor, to demean themselves in the eyes of their countrymen by this exposure to the public gaze. It was only when a senator named Fulvius Setinus asked permission thus to prostitute his dignity, that the dictator was at last roused to restrain the growing degradation.
If the people of Rome were shocked at the bloodshed which they were invited to applaud, it seems that they were offended also at the vast sums which were lavished on these ostentatious spectacles. They would have preferred, perhaps, that the donative to themselves should have been greater, and the soldiers even exhibited symptoms of discontent and mutiny in consequence. No instance of Cæsar’s profuse expenditure excited greater admiration than his stretching a silken awning over the heads of the spectators in the Circus. This beautiful material was brought only from the farthest extremity of India, and was extremely rare and precious at Rome at that time. Three centuries later it was still so costly that a Roman emperor forbade his wife the luxury of a dress of the finest silk unmixed with a baser fabric. But a more permanent and worthy object of imperial expenditure was the gorgeous Forum of which Cæsar had long since laid the foundation with the spoils of his Gallic Wars. Between the old Roman Forum and the foot of the Quirinal, he caused a large space to be enclosed with rows of marble corridors, connecting in one suite halls of justice, chambers of commerce, and arcades for public recreation. In the centre was erected a temple to Venus the ancestress, the patroness for whom Cæsar had woven a breastplate of British pearls, and whose name he had used as his watchword on the days of his greatest victories. He now completed the series of his triumphal shows by the dedication of this favourite work. It remained for centuries a conspicuous monument of the fame and magnificence of the first of the Cæsars. His successors were proud to cluster new arches and columns by its side, and bestowed their names upon the edifices they erected in connection with it. Finally, Trajan cut through the elevated ridge which united the Capitoline with the Quirinal, and impeded the further extension of the imperial forums. He filled the hollow with a new range of buildings, occupying as much ground as the united works of his predecessors in this quarter. The depth of his excavation is indicated, it is said, by the height of the pillar which bears his name.
THE LAST CAMPAIGN
[46-45 B.C.]
Our review of the dictator’s proceedings in the discharge of his civil functions must be postponed, but only for a moment, to relate the short episode of his last military exploit. The despatches of his lieutenants in Spain represented that province as rapidly falling into the hands of the republican faction. Varus and Labienus had escaped from Africa, and joined the standard under which Scapula marshalled the disaffected legions in Spain. Cneius Pompeius had also issued from his retreat in the Balearic Isles, and as soon as he appeared in their camp every chief of the oligarchy waived his own pretensions to the command in deference to the man who represented the fame and fortunes of their late leader. Yet Scapula had the confidence of the soldiers, Labienus was an officer of tried ability and reputation, and Varus had at least held the highest military commands, while Cneius himself was personally unknown to the legions in Spain, and his only achievement in war had been a dashing naval exploit. So cowed by its repeated reverses was the spirit of the old Roman party, which had revived for a moment in Africa with vain exultation at finding itself relieved from the ascendency of its own military champion. Cneius, on his part, seems to have regarded the renewed contest in the light of a private quarrel. His war-cry was not “Rome,” “Liberty,” or “The Senate,” but “Pietas,” “Filial Duty.”
The disaffection among Cæsar’s soldiers had become widely spread; a large body of them had enrolled themselves under their new leaders; their numbers had been augmented by provincial enlistments; even slaves had been drafted into the ranks; while the cities and states of the peninsula lent their aid more or less openly to the cause. It was not in the remoter parts of the province or among the half-subdued native principalities, but in the centre of Roman influence and civilisation, in Corduba itself, that the standard of the adventurers was unfurled. Cæsar had completed the ceremonies of his quadruple triumph, and was deeply engaged in the arduous task of legislation for the new system of government which he had undertaken to raise, when he found it necessary to postpone every other occupation to meet his enemies once more in arms. So uncertain and tedious was the navigation of those days that he may have chosen the land route across the Alps and Pyrenees, for the sake of reaching his destination with greater speed.[123]
The details of the campaign into which he immediately plunged are given, but very obscurely, in the last of the series of contemporary memoirs which have hitherto been our guides throughout the military history of the period. In point of composition it betrays less literary accomplishment than any of its kindred works. The rude soldier who seems to have been its author had no hesitation in recording in their undisguised enormity the cruelties which disgraced the conduct of both parties. Cæsar’s character for humanity suffers more in this than in any other contemporary narrative of his actions. The campaign was, indeed, a series of butcheries on either side, but Cneius was, perhaps, the most savagely ferocious of all the captains of the civil wars. The scene of the last act of Roman liberty was laid in the valley of the Guadalquivir and the defiles of the Sierra de Tolar. After a variety of desultory movements, of which we obtain from the narrative only an indistinct notion, we find the rival armies at last drawn up in hostile array on the field of Munda. Cæsar was this time superior in numbers, and especially in cavalry; but the enemy was well posted, and fought well: never, it is said, was the great conqueror brought so near to defeat and destruction.[b]
“When the armies were going to close, Cæsar, seeing his men go on but coldly and seem to be afraid, invoked all the gods, beseeching them with hands lifted up to heaven, not to let the lustre of so many glorious actions be darkened in one day, and running through the ranks, encouraged his soldiers, taking off his head-piece that he might be better known. But do what he could, he could not raise their spirits, till snatching a buckler out of a soldier’s hand, he said to the tribunes who were about him, ‘This shall be the last day of my life, and of your engagement in the war.’ And at the same time made furiously towards the enemy; he had scarce advanced ten feet but he had above two hundred darts thrown at him, some of which he avoided by bending his body, and others received on his buckler, when the tribunes ran with emulation to get about him, and the whole army thereupon charging with all their fury, they fought all day with divers advantage, and at length towards the evening the victory fell to Cæsar, and it is reported that hereupon he was heard to say these words, ‘that he had often fought for victory, but that now he had fought for life.’
“After the defeat, Pompeius’ men flying into Corduba, Cæsar, to prevent their escape thither, lest they should rally and renew the fight, caused the place to be invested by the army, where the soldiers being so tired that they could not work in the circumvallation, heaped up together the bodies and armour of the slain, which they kept piled up with their javelins stuck into the ground, and lay all night under that kind of rampire. Next morning the city was taken. Of Pompeius’ captains, Scapula setting up on a pile of wood burned himself; the heads of Varus, Labienus, and other persons of quality were brought to Cæsar. As for Pompeius, he fled from the battle with a hundred and fifty horse, bending his course towards Carteia where his fleet lay; he entered the port in a litter, and in the habit of a private man. But seeing the seamen had likewise lost all hopes, he threw himself in a little boat, in which as he was going out to sea, his foot tangling in the cordage, one of his people going to cut the rope, by mischance cut his heel, so that to cure his wound he was forced to go ashore at a small village, where hearing that Cæsar’s horsemen were coming, he took his flight through a country covered with thorns and briers, which added to his wound, so that being tired and sitting down at last under a tree, he was found by those who gave him chase, and slain, generously defending himself; his head was carried to Cæsar, who caused it to be buried. Thus [says Appian] was this war ended by one only fight and contrary to the opinion of all the world.”[g]
Of all the leaders of the senatorial party, Sextus Pompeius was now the only survivor. He had made his escape from the field of Munda, and had an asylum in the wildest districts of the Hither Province. He had nothing to hope from the clemency of the conqueror, who had shown unusual bitterness against his family by the confiscation of their patrimonial estates, and was now preparing to celebrate his triumph over them as foreigners and enemies of the state. Thus driven to despair, he infused new spirit into the predatory habits among the tribes among whom he had taken refuge, and continued to defy the power of the provincial authorities. Cæsar occupied himself for some months in reconstituting the government of Spain, taking precautions for the entire subjugation of the party which had shown such vitality in that quarter. The battle of Munda was fought on the seventeenth of March, but the dictator was not at liberty to return to Italy till September, after an absence of ten months.