Looking at the enormous expense and effort Caligula’s military campaigns required, Tacitus characterizes them as ludicrous and attributes their failure to the emperor’s capricious nature. In fact Caligula achieved no conquests worth mentioning. An impartial assessment must record, however, that he quelled a revolt by the governor of one of the militarily most important provinces in the Empire and corrected deficiencies in the troops along the Rhine that had gone unaddressed for years. Much evidence suggests that Caligula created the conditions in which Claudius was able to conquer Britain three years later. It should also be kept in mind that all long-term planning for military campaigns had to be tossed overboard once the great conspiracy was uncovered, and that the expeditions all were attempted while the situation in Rome was highly uncertain.
Last, there are various indications that the abrupt end of the mission and Caligula’s swift return were prompted by new threats against him from aristocratic circles. In connection with events at the English Channel, Dio mentions that Caligula showed “no little vexation at his commanders who won some slight success” (Dio 59.21.3). This remark points to conflicts between the emperor and the commanding officers of the military, who all came from the senatorial order. Such tensions can hardly have arisen if the officers’ successes were in carrying out the emperor’s orders. Furthermore, the close of military actions coincided with a great intensification of the emperor’s hostility toward the aristocracy as a whole, for which the sources provide no other convincing explanation. On his way back to Rome Caligula encountered another delegation from the Senate asking him to hurry, which suggests there was an urgent need for him to take action in the capital. Thereupon, the account runs, Caligula shouted at the top of his voice, “I will come; I will come, and this will be with me,” tapping the hilt of the sword at his side. At the same time he proclaimed in an edict that “he was returning, but only to those who desired his presence, the equestrian order and the people, for to the Senate he would never more be fellow citizen nor princeps” (Suet. Cal. 49.1). He also gave up plans to celebrate a triumph, and forbade any senators to come out to meet him en route; in other words, he announced that he would have no further social contact with his fellow aristocrats.
RESHAPING THE EMPEROR’S ROLE
The conspiracy of Agrippina, Livilla, and Lepidus had presented Caligula with the same threat in extreme form that had always been present under the rule of his imperial predecessors and that his successors on the throne would face a number of times: The very people who made up the emperor’s closest circle could endanger his safety. Precisely because they were close to the ruler, because they could influence his decisions and allow or deny others access to him, they had power that could also be turned against the emperor himself. This gave rise to a paradoxical situation in which the emperor had to be most mistrustful of the people he trusted most. The problem was exacerbated in the case of a close family relationship or high social standing. Already under the first two emperors this danger had had consequences for the selection of their staff, which had been called into service for precarious power-political tasks. This is seen not only in the equestrian rank of the Praetorian prefects and the governor of Egypt but also on occasion by the employing of freedmen (former slaves) of the emperor’s household in highly confidential posts. These last were particularly well suited for their positions, since in contrast to individuals of high rank or members of the imperial family, freedmen owed everything to the emperor. Without him they were nothing. While they might become a threat to him in court intrigues, they could never aspire to replace him. Caligula was the first Roman emperor systematically to exploit the advantage this group offered.
After Lepidus was executed and the emperor’s sisters banished, we hear nothing more of Roman aristocrats who acquired influence and wealth as members of Caligula’s inner circle or through close personal ties to him. When he appeared in public in the city he was of course still accompanied by a retinue of high-ranking “friends” from the aristocracy, including Claudius, but after the expedition to Gaul the circle of Caligula’s closest confidants and aides consisted of quite different people.
One of the central figures in this group was the freedman Gaius Julius Callistus. Nothing is known about his background. His daughter Nymphidia, mother of the later Praetorian prefect Nymphidius Sabinus under Nero, is said to have been Caligula’s mistress as a young woman; that may be how the two men encountered one another. Callistus appears to have played a role in the detection of the great conspiracy. In this extremely perilous situation it was he who persuaded the emperor to give the consulate to Domitius Afer. In the aftermath, according to Josephus, the fear he inspired in people and his great wealth enabled him to achieve enormous influence and power “no less than a tyrant’s” (Jos. Ant. 19.64). Another close confidant, probably also descended from slaves, was Protogenes. He “assisted the emperor in all his harshest measures” (Dio 59.26.1) and is supposed to have carried around two catalogues labeled “Sword” and “Dagger.” They apparently recorded the behavior of the six hundred members of the Senate (too large a number to keep track of in one’s head) and the intended punishment for each, should the necessity arise—something that caused the secretary to become a terrifying figure for the aristocracy. Another important role was played by the Egyptian slave Helicon, originally a gift for Tiberius, who worked his way up to become Caligula’s valet. Philo reports that Helicon was always at Caligula’s side, doing gymnastic exercises with him, and accompanying him to the baths. Since he remained near the emperor when he ate or slept, Helicon seems to have served some of the functions of a bodyguard as well. He advised Caligula on decisions, controlled access to him, and used his position to his own advantage by taking bribes—or at least that is what Philo claims, who had bad experiences with him.
Another member of the new inner circle around Caligula was the empress Caesonia, who had borne him a daughter and with whom he was passionately in love, according to the sources. She, too, was considered to be an influential adviser and apparently remained in Rome during Caligula’s expedition to the North, acting as his stand-in. Finally, by virtue of their positions a significant role fell to the two Praetorian prefects. Cassius Dio names both, in addition to Callistus and Caesonia, as the emperor’s most important confidants.
All the above-named people acquired political prominence only after the great conspiracy and Caligula’s sojourn in Gaul. After his experiences in 39 the emperor consciously embarked on a new path in exercising rule. He removed all the aristocrats from his inner circle and thereby also from the political nerve center of the Roman Empire. The background for this measure was the emperor’s need for personal security, and it was directed against Rome’s traditional political institutions, the Senate and magistrates. At the same time, some people outside the center gained importance in political operations although they had no connection at all with the old institutions. Thus, for example, after the events on the shore of the English Channel Caligula authorized his procurators—financial agents—to confiscate funds as they saw fit to pay for his triumph in Rome (the one that was later called off). Officers of the Praetorian Guard were authorized to collect taxes and unpaid tribute as well. In other words, the emperor used the structures available in his household and in the military to administer political tasks for which they had previously had no responsibility.
The fundamental changes were not limited to the ways in which central rule was organized, for Caligula also dealt with a problem no emperor before him had addressed: the social rank of the emperor himself. Up to that point he had followed his predecessors’ example in allowing the Senate to confer extraordinary honors on him that, although they had raised the emperors far above the other members of the aristocracy, had at the same time remained permanently linked to the traditional aristocratic ranking. In its turn this system of rank was based on the various classes of senatorial office (consular, Praetorian, etc.) and thus ultimately on the structures of the old Republican ma
gistracy, that is, on a political order that had not merely not foreseen the possibility of a monarchy, but had excluded it on principle. Thus at the heart of the matter was a paradoxical process: Precisely by undermining the traditional ranking system in order to place himself at the top of it, the emperor provided proof both of its continuing validity and of his having no independent claim to monarchical rank. When he allowed the Senate to award him distinctions, he confirmed that he needed the old Republican institution in order to manifest his social standing. By accepting honors he emphasized that he lacked them on his own.
Caligula is the only Roman emperor of whom it is reported that he grasped this very paradox and made an issue of it himself. Cassius Dio, writing about the first delegation from the Senate after the great conspiracy had been uncovered, reports that Caligula’s response was to prohibit the Senate from passing any furthers honors to him: “For he did not for a moment wish it to appear that anything that brought him honor was in the power of the senators, since that would imply that they were his superiors and could grant him favors as if he were their inferior. For this reason he frequently found fault with various honors conferred upon him, on the ground that they did not increase his splendor but rather destroyed his power” (Dio 59.23.3–4).
But what would a monarchical position of honor look like once it surpassed the limits of the old Republican order of ranking, which was the only such order existing in Rome, and had been in place for centuries? The coming weeks and months would reveal Caligula’s plans on the subject. His first priority was display of material splendor, since after the old political ranking this was the second way Romans showed off their social status. Caligula had begun to exceed conventional limits of luxury some time before, but in this respect, too, he altered his behavior after the sojourn in Gaul. The auction of the household goods of his predecessors can be interpreted not only as a source of income but also as a conscious break with elements that had previously served to represent the emperor’s social position. Thus fundamental changes in the way the emperor’s role was shaped were taking place here as well. Yet the decisive question remained: What, for the emperor, would replace traditional manifestations of rank? It was true not just of ancient Rome but of all pre-modern aristocratic societies that each individual’s social status became a reality only when it achieved visibility in public.
The circle of people closest to Caligula during his stay in Gaul was not entirely free of aristocrats; it was free only of Roman aristocrats. According to Cassius Dio, among the emperor’s entourage were the rulers of two client kingdoms in the Hellenic East whom he had placed on their thrones in 37, Julius Agrippa of Judaea and Antiochus IV of Commagene. Another such ruler, Ptolemy of Mauretania, seems to have gone to Lyon as well, but was then condemned to death by Caligula under circumstances that are unclear but may have had something to do with political changes in the province of Africa. These kings embodied another tradition, of sole rule established over the course of centuries in the Hellenic empires of the East. Such kings were independent of urban political structures and urban aristocrats; they headed political administrations that had grown out of their own household staffs and answered to the monarch alone. The rank of the aristocrats and nobles around such kings was linked to a court hierarchy at whose apex the king stood unchallenged. And, last but not least: Since the third century B.C. it had become customary in the East for the kings, who occupied a position so far above everyone else, to be worshiped as godlike beings, with cultic rites. In describing the turn of the year 39/40 during Caligula’s reign, Cassius Dio mentions particular concern in Rome when the news arrived “that King Agrippa and King Antiochus were with him, like two tyrant-trainers” (Dio 59.24.1). What looked liked tyranny from the perspective of Roman senators can be described in other words: Caligula was starting to alter the paradoxical and dangerous role he had played up to that point as an emperor in a republic, and to create an openly monarchical system.
TRIUMPHANTLY CROSSING THE SEA
Caligula’s swift return journey to Italy ended before the gates of Rome. He was at the shrine of the Arval Brethren outside the city walls near the end of May in 40, and possibly about the same time he received on the first occasion the embassy of Alexandrian Jews, led by Philo, in the gardens of his mother, Agrippina, which likewise lay outside Rome. Two circumstances above all probably kept Caligula from entering the capital immediately. Events over the previous few months must have made the situation in Rome extremely volatile; for that reason alone, concern for the emperor’s safety would have ruled out an official entry amid large crowds of people. Then again, a return from Germania without any ceremony at all would have looked like an admission of defeat. On the other hand, the emperor had expressly forbidden the Senate to provide any formal welcome and other honors, so that a triumphal procession of the usual kind was out of the question. In its place Caligula chose a new way to stage his return, one without precedent in Rome. It alluded to the events of the northern campaigns, surpassed all previous triumphs, and was so imposing that even Suetonius includes it among the few deeds of the “good” ruler Caligula. To achieve this, the emperor proceeded to his luxurious villas near Puteoli in Campania and prepared to demonstrate his power as he had been prevented from doing at the English Channel: by triumphantly crossing the sea.
A bridge of ships a little more than three miles long was constructed in the Gulf of Baiae between Puteoli and Bauli (near Misenum). It consisted of a double row of cargo ships assembled from many places, with earth piled on top of them to make a road as solid as the Via Appia. At various intervals the road was widened to make space for resting places and shelters with running fresh water. When the entire structure was finished, Caligula put on the breastplate of the most famous ruler of the Greek world, Alexander the Great, which had been taken from his grave; over it he wore a purple cloak of the kind used by Greek military commanders, with gold decorations and jewels from India. Wearing a sword at his side, carrying a shield, and with a crown of oak leaves on his head, he sacrificed to the gods, first of all to Poseidon, the god of the sea, and Invidia, the goddess of envy, so that he himself would not be a target for envy. Then he rode onto the bridge from Bauli, accompanied by troops of cavalry and infantry. On reaching the other side he stormed into the town of Puteoli like a general bent on conquering it.
The following day the troops rested, as if after a victory, and then the return march began. This time Caligula wore a tunic embroidered with gold and drove a chariot pulled by the most famous race horses of the day. Behind him followed a long column with articles of plunder that had obviously been brought back from the North, as well as a Parthian prince who was being kept in Rome at that time as a hostage. Next came a procession of chariots carrying his cohors amicorum, the “friends” who made up the aristocratic retinue of a Roman general, wearing cloaks of blossoms, followed by the Praetorian Guard, the army, and further supporters who had decorated their clothing however they saw fit. The entire train proceeded to the center of the bridge, where a stage had been erected on top of the ships. There the emperor gave a speech: “First he extolled himself as an undertaker of great enterprises, and then he praised the soldiers as men who had undergone great hardships and perils, mentioning in particular this achievement of theirs in crossing the sea on foot. For this he gave them money” (Dio 59.17.7). After this speech a festive banquet was held on the bridge and on ships anchored nearby for the rest of the day and the following night, during which bonfires illuminated the bridge, the bay, and the surrounding mountains like a stage set.
At the end of the celebration “he hurled many of his companions off the bridge into the sea and sank many of the others by sailing about and attacking them in boats equipped with beaks. Some perished, but the majority, though drunk, managed to save themselves” (Dio 59.17.9–10). The emperor boasted that he had turned the sea into dry land and the night into day, mocking the Persian rulers Darius and Xerxes (who had crossed the Bosporus and the Hellespont on bridges
of ships in the years 513 and 480 B.C.) because he himself had crossed a much wider expanse of water.
Caligula’s horseback ride over the sea made a deep impression, as the ancient sources attest. According to Seneca, while the emperor was amusing himself with the resources of the Empire, the dearth of available ships was endangering grain supplies to Rome. Both Seneca and Josephus use the event to illustrate the emperor’s insanity. Suetonius mentions contemporary interpretations that come closer to the heart of the matter. These averred that Caligula wanted to outdo Xerxes (as Dio also reports) and at the same time to inspire fear in the Germanic tribes and Britons, whose borders he was threatening. The reason given by Suetonius himself reflects the web of anecdotes that was spun around the event in the next hundred years. When Suetonius was a child he had heard court gossip from his own grandfather that Tiberius, concerned about his grandson Gemellus’s prospects for rule, had consulted the astrologer Thrasyllus. Thrasyllus told him that Caligula had about as much chance of becoming emperor as of crossing the Gulf of Baiae on horseback. The story does not quite add up, since Caligula was already emperor by then and had been for some time, but it does exemplify how incredible the deed was. According to Dio, the crossing should be seen as Caligula’s disdain for a triumph: The emperor would have regarded being pulled by horses across dry land as too ordinary, and hence had wanted to cross the sea.
In fact, in addition to its demonstration of unlimited power, the staging of the crossing contains several symbolic references. The connection with events on the coast of the Channel is obvious: The emperor showed that in Italy, unlike the distant North, he was not dependent on the goodwill of his troops and the cooperation of his senatorial generals; at home he had the power to lead his soldiers on foot even across the sea. The ride from Bauli to Puteoli was thus a symbolic demonstration of the emperor’s potential power to conquer Britain. The return journey, with the emperor driving a chariot followed by trophies and spoils, was modeled on a triumphal procession, and the ensuing feast on the bridge was in a sense designed to outshine the triumph he did not have in Rome (which he himself had rejected). The ironic praise for the bravery of his “friends” and soldiers and the dunking that followed also point clearly to the events of the spring. They designated who was really responsible for the fiasco at the Channel and simultaneously expressed Caligula’s bent for mocking and humiliating those who resisted his assertions of power.
Caligula: A Biography Page 12
