The Daily Stoic - How Cato’s Deadly Rivalry With Caesar Destroyed Rome

Episode Date: January 22, 2023

Ryan presents the first of four excerpts from Josiah Osgood’s Uncommon Wrath: How Caesar and Cato’s Deadly Rivalry Destroyed the Roman Republic. Here, in chapter one, Josiah sets the stage for Rome’s great collapse by describing the world that Julius Caesar grew up in, how Cato the Younger’s upbringing put him at odds with Caesar, and the explosive events that escalated the tension between them.You can listen to Ryan’s recent conversation with Josiah here. ✉️  Sign up for the Daily Stoic email: https://dailystoic.com/dailyemail🏛 Check out the Daily Stoic Store for Stoic inspired products, signed books, and more.📱 Follow us: Instagram, Twitter, YouTube, TikTok, FacebookSee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Welcome to the weekend edition of the Daily Stoic podcast. On Sundays, we take a deeper dive into these ancient topics with excerpts from the Stoic texts, audiobooks that we like here recommend here at Daily Stoic and other long form wisdom that you can chew on on this relaxing weekend. We hope this helps shape your understanding of this philosophy and most importantly that you're able to apply it to actual life. Thank you for listening. Hey, it's Ryan Holiday. Welcome to a Sunday episode of the Daily Stoic podcast. The clash between Caesar and Cato is one of the most epic clashes in all of history. It was unavoidable. It was

inescapable. It was a clash of civilizations, a clash of worldviews. It was stoicism versus the antithesis of stoicism in many ways. It was the Civil War literally in Rome, but also the Civil War for Rome's soul to crib from Martin Luther King, the idea of a north of our soul and the south of our soul, and yet and yet, and yet, it's way more complicated than you think it is. Kato, although we are fond of him here at Daily Stoke, was by Nomeans perfect in this clash, as you may have learned in my episode with Josiah Osgood, the author of Uncommon Wrath, How Caesar and Kato's deadly rivalry destroyed the Roman Republic. Well, in today's episode, I loved his book so much. I wanted to bring you a chunk of it. You're going to see and

listen to what drew these men into mortal combat with each other, how they brought out both the best and the worst in each other. There's a lot to learn. The book was published by basic books. Thank you to them for letting us bring you an excerpt of the audio book here in today's episode. Check out the book Anywhere Books Are Sold, grab it on Audible, whatever. But I think you're gonna like this book also listen to my episode with Professor Osgood and do check out Uncommon Wrath,

How Caesar and Kato's Deadly Rivalry Destroyed the Roman Republic. But for now, sit back and listen to what drew these two men together, what made them both great, what made them both terrible, and hopefully learn some lessons. Hey, prime members, you can listen to the Daily Stone podcast early and add free on Amazon Music, download the app today. Hi, I'm David Brown, the host of Wundery's podcast business wars. And in our new season, Walmart must fight off target,

the new discounter that's both savvy and fashion forward. Listen to business wars on Amazon Music, or wherever you get your podcasts. Chapter 1 Coming of Age in Civil War A large crowd was gathering in the forum, the vast open square in the centre of Rome. Amid the temples and collinated halls built by the republic's leading men, much of the crowd would have milled at ground level, but some probably climbed onto the temple steps or perched on building balconies for a better view. The funeral of Julia, the widow of the great General Marius, was about to take place. It was 69 BC, about two decades after a quarrel between Marius and his rival Sulla had precipitated Rome's

first civil war. Marius had died just two years into the war, but his and Julius Young's son had kept up the fight until he was defeated in a siege four years later. Young Marius's head had been one of those displayed by Sulla in the forum, just where his mother's funeral was now set to start. First learn to row before you try to steer. Sulla is said to have joked when presented with the head. In his desire for revenge, Sulla also dug up Marius' ashes, flung them in a river, and tore down all the statues and monuments erected in honour of Marius' ashes, flung them in a river, and tore down all the statues and monuments erected in honour of Marius' victories. For years, the family was consigned to an official

oblivion. Funerals of the great men of Rome had long been one of the city's spectacles. The body of the deceased was placed on a couch, which was carried on a litter into the forum, accompanied by musicians and mourners. A head of the litter strode actors, hired to portray the ancestors of the deceased who had held political office. The actor's war waxed masks that represented the faces of the dead with uncanny realism. They also put on the dress appropriate for the rank of those they impersonated, a toga with a purple-lined border for a console, for example. Grand funerals for the women of political families were a newer development. Women could not hold office themselves, they could not even vote in elections, but over time they had become more prominent in public life.

They visited the temples to worship the gods, they attended games, they intervened with male politicians on behalf of the people. Women's funerals honored their place in the community and also gave male relatives opportunities to promote themselves and their families. It was Julia's ambitious nephew Caesar, about 30 years old by then, who organized the festivities on this occasion. The Julia were, like the few other surviving petrition families of Caesar's day, ancient, but they had left little mark on history. As Caesar grew up, he would have noticed that the

wooden cupboard in the family house where the masks of office-holding ancestors were stored had few recent additions. To compensate, the family insisted that they were descended from the goddess Venus and her son and Neus, the Prince of Troy, whom the Romans claimed as their founder. Néas, the Prince of Troy, whom the Romans claimed as their founder. At the parade in 69, Caesar was also able to include alongside masks of Giulie, those of the Marcei Regis, the family of Giulia's mother, and Caesar's grandmother, Marcia. They too were patrician and claimed descent from one of the kings who ruled Rome before the foundation of the Republic, Anka Smarsius. The climax of the public funeral was a eulogy, delivered from the High Speakers platform

at the edge of the forum known as the Roster. It fell to Caesar to speak, and as was typical for such addresses, he talked about his family's ancestry. The family of my aunt Julia is, on her mother's side, descended from kings, he began impressively. On her father's side, it is linked to the gods. He must have let that sink in before elaborating. This is because the Marcee Regis, which is the family name of Julius Mother, go back to Ancus Marceus and the Julie, the clan of which our family is a branch, go back to Venus. And so he went on. back to Venus. And so he went on. In our family is found the sanctity of kings who have supreme power among men and the holiness of gods who hold under their sway the kings themselves.

Caesar's rhetorical education was on full display. the Julee did not have the ancestral exploits that many other noble families could brag of, yet you wouldn't know it from Caesar's audacious remarks. But for the crowd gathered that day, Caesar pulled off something far more impressive still. In the parade, he included not just masks of the Giulie and Marseille, but also those of Marius and Marius' son, both of which Sulla had banned from public display. For years, the Roman people had not been able to look at a statue of Marius, now they shouted and clapped with joy. It was as if their old hero, the man who had saved

Rome from the German invasion, had come back to life. As the funeral for his aunt showed, Gaeus Julius Caesar, born in 100 BC, had an unusual double heritage. On the one hand, he was a patrician Julius, but on the other his most important relative was Marius, one of the greatest gate crashes in all of Roman political history. Otha Giulie had languished for centuries, they remained noble, meaning that ancestors in the male line had held high political office. As a noble, Caesar would have been expected to compete in elections and try to rise up the ladder of magistracies, from the lowest rung of Quastor, a financial position, all the way to the consulship at the top.

He would also have been expected to perform military service and risk his life in battle to earn a reputation for valor. In the decades before Caesar's birth, the fortunes of the Giulie had started to show modest improvement. One sign of this was the marriage of Caesar's paternal grandfather into the more illustrious family of the Marcee Regis. Caesar's own father had married Arilia, a member of a highly successful family of the Plubian nobility. Originally, the so-called plebs had been the common people of Rome, and the term could still refer to the masses. But over the centuries, as many of the original Petrician families died off, Some plebeian families had climbed the ladder of office and attained great power.

Orilia, who was herself probably the daughter and granddaughter of consoles, had knowledge and connections to help her son as he tried to make his political career. She supervised his childhood education, and for years after that watched over his interests. In later times, she became a byword for the strong Roman mother. Her own husband's career stalled at the pre-tour ship, the office just below consul, and he died when Caesar was 15. As important as Caesar's noble ancestry was his relationship with Gaius Marius, who for many years was the leading man in Rome. Marius was what the Romans called a new man, the first in his family to hold office. Not a single mask adorned his house, though Marius made

up for this by bragging that his masks were the medals he had earned in war, as were the scars on the front of his body, the only acceptable place for a Roman to incur war wounds. Marius came from a little town in the rugged mountain southeast of Rome. Courageous and hardworking, he had caught the attention of a prominent noble who took him to Spain. When he killed one of the enemy before his commander's eyes, his reputation took off. Marius used connections with the nobles when he needed to, but it was by attacking the nobility that he won political dominance. In 119 BC, he held the Office of Tribune of the Plebs.

Ten tribunes were elected annually, and by tradition, they were supposed to represent the interests of ordinary citizens. They had direct control of one of the popular assemblies, the plebeian assembly, in which all male citizens except petitions could vote. In this assembly, Marius introduced legislation designed to ensure the secrecy of voting. This threatened the control of the nobles over the votes of poor aromans, and one of the consuls persuaded the Senate to come out against the law and to summon Marius to the Senate to explain himself. The Senate, which was dominated by the nobles, could not pass laws, but rather issued decrees that were supposed to be authoritative, like the decree instructing Cicero to execute

the Catalinarian conspirators in 63. When Marius appeared in the Senate, far from backing down, as a new man should have, he threatened to have the consul dragged off to prison, something he could do as Tribune. The Senate gave in, and Marius' law was passed. Marius' election to the consulship about a decade later infuriated the nobility even more. For years a war had been dragging on between Rome and a king of Northern Africa, named Djegurtha. A talented military commander, Marius went to serve on the staff of one of the generals the Senate had placed in charge.

Through his accomplishments there and his willingness to share in the war's hardships, Marius won over the soldiers, and they soon wanted him to assume supreme command. When Marius asked his commander for permission to return to Rome to stand for the consulship, the noble snaringly replied that Marius might be ready when the commander's own son, a very young man, was. But Marius was granted permission to return to the capital and he made hay of his exploits. By linking ongoing military failures in Africa to the haughtiness of the nobility, Marius turned his status as a new man into an asset and was able to win election as one of the two consuls

for the year 107. Maria immediately had the Plabian assembly vote him commander of the war against Jagurtha overriding the Senate's normal prerogative to make such assignments. Mustering a fresh round of troops, he allowed even those without property to serve. By tradition, citizens were supposed to provide themselves with their own arms and armor to fight in the legions, and so had to demonstrate some wealth. The requirement was sometimes waived, but Marius ended up removing it permanently. With his enthusiastic new army, Marius successfully ended the war and was awarded a triumph, the Republic's supreme military honour. Dugurtha, wearing a single

gold earring, all that remained of his once great wealth, was dragged in chains through the streets of Rome and then thrown into prison for execution while Marius crowned with a laurel wreath, rode in a chariot drawn by four horses. To the further frustration of Marius' enemies, on the same day as the triumph, January 1, 104, Marius embarked on his second consulship. He turned his attention to another lingering conflict that the noble leadership had seemed powerless to resolve. Several years before, thousands of Germanic warriors from Northern Europe had begun a migration toward Italy, and in 105 had inflicted a grave defeat on the legions, among the worst in all of Roman history.

No one seemed to have the skills and luck to defeat the barbarians, until Marius. From 104 through 100, the new man held an unprecedented series of five consulships in succession as he beat back the blunt giants. Among the people, Marius was hailed as the savior of Rome, offerings and libations were made to him as if he were a god. Marius, in turn, worked hard to reward his soldiers for their part in the victories. He provided lands for them to farm. To Italians who served in his army he granted Roman citizenship with unusual generosity. Caesar would find his most important political model in his uncle Marius. Both championed the same groups, ordinary Romans, Italians, and common soldiers above all.

Marius' bold, general ship and his willingness to stand in the front line of battle inspired Caesar as well. Still, good as Marius had been at taunting the nobles, he was not much of an orator, and Caesar looked elsewhere as he refined his political skills. In this domain, Caesar tried to copy a younger kinsman of his fathers from another branch of the Julian family, Caesar Straybo. Straybo

was one of the best speakers of his day, famous for an ability to skewer opponents with jokes. Once, when another orator who flailed his arms too much as he spoke was up on the rostra. Straybo cried out, who's that talking from a boat? Another time Straybo was arguing with a rival and suddenly said, I will now show you what kind of man you are. Show me please, the rival said. Straybo pointed with his finger to a German shield hanging nearby, displayed in honor of Marius' victory, on which was painted an absurd-looking man whose tongue was hanging out of his mouth. The crowd burst into laughter. Caesar preferred to leaven his speeches with Strabo's wit, rather than bludgeon like Marius. Marsha's Portia's Cato, born in 95 BC, also belonged to a noble family, but one with a different profile from that of the Julie. The Porsi were, in Roman terms, much newer.

Their roots lay in the Sabine territory in the hills northeast of Rome, and they had not gained citizenship until long after the expulsion of Rome, and they had not gained citizenship until long after the expulsion of the kings and the establishment of Republican government. They farmed and fought well as soldiers but never held political office until their fortunes were transformed in the later 3rd century BC by one of the most extraordinary characters in Roman history, Kato the Elder. Kato the Elder was another of the rare new men who made it to the heights of power, pioneering techniques that Marius would later use to good effect. He championed traditional Roman

values of hard work or sterity and a willingness to make any sacrifice for the public good, and he attacked noble senators for failing to live up to those values. With his sharp tongue, he cut others to the quick and never lost a chance to demonstrate his toughness. Even as a general, he carried his own armour like an ordinary soldier, and he made do with the same food they did. He drank only water, except in a raging thirst when he would call for a little vinegar. A tough old animal skin was his blanket. While the other commanders of Rome's overseas provinces used public money for lavish accommodations, Kato spent barely anything. He made his circuit of the cities on foot, followed by just a single slave.

Prosecuting others for embezzlement was a favourite pastime. Romans chaffed on the Kato's never-ending crusades against luxury, but they took pleasure in watching how rudely Kato treated almost everyone, the grandest senators, foreign kings, and especially the Greek doctors in Rome, who Kato claimed were all murderers. When Kato looked through the masks of the ancestors, it must have been the one of his great grandfather, Kato the elder, that stood out. The elder Kato became the chief model for the younger, who by his late teenage years was already garnering attention by emulating the census famously or steer lifestyle. But in Kato's cabinet of masks there was a gap where his fathers should have been. He had died when Kato was still a very young child without having reached high office.

The father did hold a tribune at during which he challenged Marius. In the developing struggle between the Senate and the Plubian Assembly, he stood with the Senate. Kato, as he started to forge his political identity, would hude to that line also, in keeping with his reverence of the past. As so many senators would bear in mind later on, during the worst crisis the Republic had ever faced, Hannibal's invasion of Italy, it was the Senate that kept its nerve and ensured Rome's survival. Soon after the death of his father, Kato lost his mother, Livia, as well. Kato, his younger sister, and two older half-siblings from Livia's first marriage, a brother and a sister, were taken in by Livia's brother, Drusus, who lived in a large and fashionable

house on the Palatine Hill, the city's most desirable address for politicians because of its proximity to the forum. But soon, Drussus was also dead. As Tribune in the year 91, he tried to enact an ambitious program of reform with the ultimate goal of bolstering the authority of the Senate. His plans aroused controversy, and as he returned home one evening with a crowd of supporters, he was fatally stabbed by an unknown assassin. Cato, his sister and his half-siblings probably stayed on in Drew's comfortable house

with an aunt or grandmother to keep an eye on them. The older half-siblings, Sir Vilia and her brother Sir Vilias Kaipio, seem almost to have become surrogate parents for Cato. seem almost to have become surrogate parents for Kato. Asked as a little boy whom he loved most, Kato answered, My brother. After him? My brother. And after him?

My brother. The questioner finally gave up. Kato became devoted to the good-natured Kaipio and even as a young adult could barely eat or go down to the forum without him. Kato also forged a bond, not atypical for a Roman noble, to a slave, his tutor, a kindly Greek named Sarpadon. Sarpadon was exceptionally patient with Kato, who demanded to know the reason for everything, and kept asking, why?

Although another tutor would likely box a child's ears for such impertinence, Sarpadon tried to answer Kato's questions. Sarpadon grew fond of the boy and accompanied him into his teenage years. Kato's early biographers insisted that even as a child he gave signs of his later well-known tendency to think things through for himself and to act independently. Kato once attended a birthday party where the boys entertained themselves by going off to a separate part of the house and pretending to put each other on trial, with full prosecution speeches and punishments for the convicted.

At this party a good-looking younger boy was put on trial. An older boy led him away to a room and locked the door, and the younger boy then called out to Kato for help. Kato fearlessly rushed past those guarding the room, rescued the child, and led him home, seething with anger. The good-looking boy had been at risk not just of violent sexual assault, but also of a permanent stain on his honour. With this episode, Kato's biographers were saying, even at a young age, Kato showed willingness to take action if he thought wrong was being done. Children can harbor a strong sense of justice. Kato had it his whole life. Is this thing all?

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Follow Baby This Is Kiki Palmer, whatever you get your podcast. Hey, prime members, you can listen early and add-free on Amazon Music. Download the Amazon Music app today. Living relatives and dead forebears shaped who Kato and Caesar became. But the dominant figure of their early lives turned out to be Sulla. With his blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, unusual features in

Rome, Lucius Cornelius Sulla stood out. He was born, like Caesar, into a protrition family that had sunk into obscurity. There were few masks for him to display and also little money. Shockingly for a protrition, Sula shared lodgings in an apartment house with an ex-slave, and he passed his time among actors and entertainers. Thanks in part to an inheritance from a wealthy prostitute who had grown fond of him, he was able to embark on a public career, and he joined the staff of Marius during the war against Djugurtha. It was Sula, who, through negotiations with Djurgurtha's father-in-law, had actually captured the king after a daring mission. Sula engraved the exploit on his

signet ring, and Marius, forever afterward, resented how the young man seemed to have upstaged him in ending the long war. The two men came to open blows in 88. Though about 70 years old and quite fat by then, Marius was determined to secure command of the war against Mithridates, an eastern king who had recently invaded Roman territory in Asia Minor and presided over a grizzly massacre of Romans living there. Marius was not only hoping for one last triumph to cap his already extraordinary record. He could finally exact revenge on Sula, who was serving as consul and had been assigned command by the Senate in the traditional way. But Marius had grown old.

Romans looked on with pity as they saw him go down to the field of Mars each day and try to keep up with the young soldiers during military exercises. Many thought the arthritical man should return to the hot baths on the bay of Naples where he had a villa. Drawing on techniques he had used before, Marius had the plebeian assembly pass a law awarding the command against Mithridates to himself. In response, Sulla took an unforeseen step that set him apart from all his contemporaries and was to be a turning point in the republic's history. He marched on Rome with an army. Romans climbed onto their roofs and threw stones and tiles at Sula's forces as they entered the city.

Not to be stopped, Sula shouted orders to set the houses on fire and grabbed a blazing torch himself. Marius gathered what armed men he could and tried to fight Sula in the streets, but badly outnumbered, had to flee Rome. The next day, Sula summoned the Senate and had Marius and his prominent supporters declared enemies of the state. With his command of the war against Mithridatees reinstated, Sula soon went east in search of a glorious victory. In his absence, Marius returned to Rome and established control of the city. Mad with rage at what he had endured, he ordered the band of slaves that made up his bodyguard to slay anyone he deemed an enemy. Headless trunks were tossed into the streets. Marius was elected to an unprecedented Seventh Consulship in 86 BC, but died just a couple

of weeks into his term. The death of the bitter old man came as a relief to the city of Rome, but it did not end the ongoing conflict. Political allies of Marius, including his consular colleague Lucius Cornelius Sinner, could not reach any kind of settlement with Sulla who wanted revenge on his opponents. Sinner made preparations to resist Sula militarily, but was stabbed to death in a mutiny of some of his soldiers.

Die hard supporters of the Marian cause desperately looked to Marius' young and inexperienced son, who, against the wishes of his mother, Julia, was elected to a consulship. What the young Caesar thought at the time about his uncle's rampage, or his cousin's doomed command, is unrequited. We are only told that Caesar was nominated by Marius and Sinner to fill a newly vacant priesthood of Jupiter. Only a patrician could hold the post, and like other religious offices, it came with great distinction. Unusually though, this particular priesthood also imposed many taboos on its occupant. The priest of Jupiter was forbidden to mount a horse or spend more than a night away from Rome, or gaze upon a dead body.

For anyone familiar with Caesar's later record of conquest, the thought of him assuming this post is unfathomable. Even so, at the time, the Giulia apparently saw the priesthood as an opportunity to win glory. For Caesar, the post-carried consequences, while still a boy he had been betrothed to Kosusha, the daughter of an equestrian. Originally Rome's cavalry equestrians in this period were men of substantial wealth who did not serve in political office but filled important roles as military officers, government contractors, and jurors in criminal trials. Kosusha lent no social distinction to Caesar, but she did bring a large dowry that could

support his household as he embarked on a political career. Compared to other noble families, the Giulie were less well-off, which probably explains the desirability of the match. Yet the priest of Jupiter could only marry a patrician. This meant Caesar had to break off the engagement with Kassusha. It's possible that, given her family's lack of lustre, this was not such a great blow to Caesar. After all, in her place he was to marry Cornelia that daughter of Marius' patrician Associate sinner. The young couple appear never actually to have been inaugurated as priest and priestess.

Perhaps because the chief priest, an opponent of sinner, refused to give the required consent. Thus, in the end, Caesar ended up avoiding all the inconvenient ritual restrictions, but managed to gain the cache of a patrician bride even so. In the East, meanwhile, Sula won several impressive victories over the forces of Mithra Daites, enough to merit a triumph, but he then made a peace with the King so he could return to Italy and have his revenge on the Marians. He landed in southern Italy in 83,

and by November of the following year had taken back Rome. To reestablish control he relied on terror far beyond the norms that Romans were accustomed to. 6,000 men taken captive in a battle just outside the walls were marched into the city centre under guard. Sula summoned the senate to meet at a nearby temple, and at the very moment he started speaking, executioners began slaughtering the 6,000. As their shrieks filled the air, Sula calmly told the senate as not to be concerned. It was only some criminals being reprimanded. As murders continued, one bold senator finally begged

Sula to a lay public anxiety and given indication of who else was to be punished. Sula consented and started posting lists of citizens who were named outlaws. Rewards were offered to anyone who murdered a person listed. The property of the prescribed was confiscated, and their sons and grandsons were banned from ever-holding public office. Some were added to the list and killed just for their wealth, and a dark joke of the three men walked into a bar variety circulated. One was killed by his mansion, one by his estate, and one by his baths. Sula had himself appointed dictator. The office last used 120 years before had traditionally

been assigned for a limited term as a way of efficiently managing military crises. Sula intended to hold the job for as long as he wished, and he wielded his extraordinary power to pass whatever laws he pleased to reorganize the government. He stripped the tribunes of many of their powers, and decreed that no law could be passed in the plebeian assembly without the approval of the Senate. There were to be no more struggles like the fight over the mythridatic command in 88. Sula also rewarded his partisans. Italian communities that had supported the Marian side saw their lands confiscated and

turned over to Sula's veterans. Sula even felt free to marry women against their will to his favourite officers. Among the most impressive supporters who flocked to Sulla when he landed in Italy in 83, was Gneia's Pompey, a young man of extraordinary ambition and ability who would come to play a major role in the conflict of Caesar and Cato, siding first with one, then the other. Just after Sulla's return, through force of personality as well as family connections, Pompey raised a private army of three legions and racked up a string of victories over several of Sula's opponents. As Pompey marched

with his sleek new army to meet Sula, Sula paid him the extraordinary complement of getting off his horse and saluting Pompey as Imperator, a title normally bestowed on a victorious commander by his own troops. Now master of Italy, Sula, who was besotted with Pompey's talents and perhaps his handsome looks, too, sought to draw the young man closer. Together with his highly distinguished wife, Metella, Sula urged Pompey to accept the hand ofitella's daughter from a previous marriage, a woman named Imelia. Pompi felt he had no choice but to comply with the dictator's wish, but even the ambitious Pompi must have found the situation troubling.

Not only would he have to divorce his current wife, Antistia, but Imelia was also married at the time, and pregnant. She would also have to divorce. The wedding ended up looking less like a celebration than like yet another of the creepy stunts Sula was so fond of. Imilya was presented to Pompey heavily pregnant. His ex-wife, Fantistia, had only recently suffered the loss of her father, killed in the Senate House in a purge organized by the younger Marius and of her grief-stricken mother who had taken her own life. Now, Fantistia was losing Pompey, and it was all for nothing, since shortly after moving in with Pompey, I merely had died giving birth to the child of her

previous husband. Shocking as this whole episode was, it was not a typical of the disasters the Roman ruling class suffered in those years. Yet, the nobles did not withdraw from politics. Almost anything beat lives of quiet obscurity. As Sula's viciousness peaked with the slaughter of so many citizens, Caesar was coming into full manhood.

He was tall, with a fair complexion, shapely limbs and keen, dark eyes. He paid attention to his appearance, carefully shaving his face, and it was said other parts of his body too. His dress was remarkable. Beneath his toga flowed a tunic with unusually long, fringed sleeves that reached his wrist. The belt on it was barely tied at all. Upon Sula's return to Rome, Caesar's position became precarious. While political office was still many years off, as a nephew of Marius and son-in-law of Sinner, Caesar would have been considered a future leader of the Marians, which is to say of all the groups in Roman society that chaffed under senatorial dominance, such as the

struggling Italian peasants. Sula, determined to prop up the nobility and the Senate, wanted to be sure that there would be no resurgence of the Marian cause. To ensure that Caesar's connection to Marius was entirely severed, Caesar would have to divorce Cornelia. Sula might initially have presented this as an opportunity for Caesar and offered him a prestigious new match as he did for Pompey. But Caesar already had a wife of the highest social distinction, Cornelia, with whom he appears to have been very much in love. Furthermore, in killing the younger Marius and desecrating the tomb of the elder, Sula had attacked members of Caesar's own family.

Angry and defiant, Caesar refused to give up his wife. The consequences for him were severe. Caesar was stripped of the opportunity to fill his priesthood, of his dowry from Cornelia and of the property he had inherited from his father. Convinced that his life was in danger, he fled Rome in disguise and went into hiding in the mountainous country north-east of the city. Each night he secretly moved to a new house, but was caught when, having fallen ill and suffering from a fever, he had to be carried by a litter. A group of soulless soldiers was combing the district, probably looking for men on soulless list

of the condemned. Caesar only escaped by bribing their leader with a substantial sum. Though no ancient account explicitly says so, it appears that Caesar was among those prescribed. Even if not, he would have feared being killed. It was a lawless time. Back in Rome, friends and family tried to intervene with the dictator on Caesar's behalf. One group to speak up for him were the influential Vestal Virgins, the six priestesses who tended the flame of the half goddess Vester, the extinction of which was thought to endanger Rome. They had probably gotten to know Caesar when he was nominated priest of Jupiter, and they

would certainly have known Orilia. Two of Orilia's kinsmen also spoke up for Caesar. Reluctantly, Sula capitulated. Caesar's later biographers assigned various remarks to Sula for the occasion. Be on your guard against this badly-belted boy. In Caesar there is more than one Marius. One has to wonder whether these warnings were only remembered by critics and admirers of Caesar after he established himself as a popular politician some years later. It is not a stretch, though, to suppose that Sulla, looking at the unusually independent young man before him with his loose belt and defiant gaze, had a sense of the course Caesar's

life would take. The same fiery daring that burned in Sulla, also burned in Caesar. Almost single-handedly, this 18-year-old had stared down a dictator. If they had not before, the Marians would look to the courageous young man as a future leader. The groups Marius had rallied would be Caesar's natural base in politics. The danger Caesar had lived through branded him with a sense of the injustice of many of Sula's acts. In the years to come, Caesar would stand up for Sula's victims, especially the sons of

the prescribed who were banned from holding political office. He would sympathize far more easily with the needy than the affluent. He would not let Sula's political successors ruin lives the way the dictator had tried to destroy his with Cornelia. Caesar's brush with Sula left him with a hatred for civil war, but it also hardened him. Committed as he was to justice, he also came to think that he could only rely on himself. To survive and flourish, he needed to acquire more power than anyone else. Kato had a very different experience of Sula's dictatorship.

Sula, an old family friend, actually showed some warmth to Kato. Once, the dictator was putting on a festival known as the Trojan game in which boys of the nobility executed a laboratory question manoeuvres. Two boys were selected to serve as leaders. As one, Sula appointed a son of his wife, Mattella, whom all the boys accepted because of her great influence. When Sula appointed as the other leader, a cousin of Pompey, for some reason the boys were unhappy and would not practice with him.

When Sula asked whom they wished for instead, they all cried out, Kato. Kato it was. Sula invited Kato and Sarpadun into his house one day and conversed with them, a kindness he showed to few others. Sarpadun, worried about his pupil's safety, insisted they keep returning to pay their respects, even though the house was like a scene from the underworld, with men regularly being led there and tortured. Kato, appalled when he saw the heads of some of the prescribed being taken away from the house, asked Sarpadun why nobody killed Sula.

Sarpadun answered that nobody had had the opportunity. Kato replied, Well, why haven't you given me the sword to kill him and free the country from slavery? When Sarpadun heard this and saw the look of anger on Kato's face, he was so frightened that he kept a careful watch on Kato afterward. It is hard not to wonder if this story was recast after subsequent events. When Kato was first elected to political office in the 60s BC, he demanded that anyone who had killed men on Sula's prescription lists should return their rewards to the Treasury.

New details of Kato's encounter with Sula might have been remembered then, just as they possibly were about Caesar once his political career was well underway. But a 13-year-old boy could easily make a threat to stand up to a tyrant, however unlikely he might have been to succeed. The rhetorical education of Roman children teamed with tyrants who needed to be denounced and killed. The threat would be natural for a boy like Kato with his strong sense of justice. Over the next few years, as he grew into manhood, Kato's distinctive personality showed

through unmistakably. Quite unlike Caesar with his elaborate grooming, Kato was developing a taste for austerity. When, for instance, his beloved older half-brother, Kaipio, took to wearing perfume as young Roman men sometimes did, Kato refused to use it himself, even though he copied Kaipio in other ways. Around the age of 20, Kato established his own household where he could impress visitors with his self-control. He rejected fancy foods, he drank sparingly. Notoriously, this was later to change. At any hour of the day, he would walk the streets rather than take a carriage. While others embraced a new fashion for a particularly

vivid shade of purple on the tunics under their togas, Kato rejected it for a dollar shade. More startlingly, he would even go out in public barefoot and without a tunic at all. Like Caesar, Kato drew attention to himself through dress, but while Caesar wanted to appear stylish, Kato's look was that of a Roman from hundreds of years before. The sort you would only see in the ancient statues littering the city. The tough men of old didn't need soft undergarments, nor did Kato. Kato's attire helped him win publicity and could remind voters of his powerful ancestor, but like the rest of his lifestyle, it was not merely a stunt. Soon after moving into his new house, Kato invited a stoic philosopher and tippeter of tire to stay with him. It

was a common practice for Roman senators to have an in-house philosopher to assure them of their outstanding virtue and coach them through moments of disappointment. Kato had a deeper commitment to stoicism, with its stern commands to shun materialism, to strive only for a life of virtue and to judge weak any man who wallowed in luxury or even the occasional indulgence. Kato especially enjoyed justice when it is rigid and does not bend to clemency or favor. He wanted to be above blame himself and was all too ready to look down on others for their failings. Unlike many moralists though, Kato was no hypocrite. He pushed himself as hard as he pushed anyone else.

He was desperate to stay true to his commitment to justice. Stoics trained themselves to suppress emotion as much as possible, but throughout his life, Kato was always livid when he perceived unfairness. He roared like an angry bull at others misdeeds. Years after Sula's dictatorship, he seethed with hatred for how unscrupulous men had taken the chance to enrich themselves. Cato's first marriage engagement showed the lengths to which he could take his anger. Betrothals were highly legal affairs in which the prospective bride and groom and their families ratified a contract.

Kato had selected for his wife a woman named Amelia Leppida. Originally, she had been betrothed to Cornelia's skipio nassica, a noble with a far more distinguished ancestry than Kato's. Skipio had changed his mind, but then, before Leopardar married Kato, Skipio reconsidered yet again and was able to win her back. Kato was furious. He even contemplated taking legal action. When friends barely dissuaded him from taking this unprecedented step, he found revenge by writing scurrilous poems about Scipio. Cato's inspiration was the archaic Greek poet Archaealokos, who, after being jilted, retaliated

so forcefully in his verse that his fiancé and her father both reportedly hanged themselves. While Cato seems to have spared Scipio the obscenities Archaealocos was famous for, his revenge was unworthy of a stoic. Kato's manhood had been insulted, but more than that it was a sense of injustice that made him snap. He ended up marrying a woman named Artilia, who came from a less distinguished family than Lepidas. She was, according to the biographical tradition,

the first woman he had sex with, if true, another sign of his intense desire to lead a temperate life. Strong feelings and opinions may be common in young men and the sons of Roman noble families were encouraged to act aggressively to win fame. Caesar and Cato stood out in their adolescence as they would later in life for their vehement commitment to justice and

personal integrity. For all their differences, they had this in common, and it helps explain why they would stand apart as the two great figures of their generation. Caesar defied Sula, Kato tramped about Rome's shivering in the cold. The danger Caesar experienced in civil war gave him a sympathy for innocent victims. Kato was more embittered against those who had profited illegally. Both shared a horror for the disaster of civil war, strong, even for members of their generation. Having passed all the laws he wished to, Sula gave up his dictatorship, held one last regular consulship in ATBC, and left Rome for good, spending the last couple of years of his life cavorting on the Bay of Naples, with the actors and actresses whose company he had always

enjoyed most. He also was working on his lengthy memoirs, in which he cast himself as a favorite of the gods who enjoyed victory after victory. Even though there was widespread revulsion at his cruelty and new unrest cropped up after his death, his supporters in the Senate managed to hold onto power in Rome for the next decade. To go anywhere in politics, Caesar and Kato needed to devote these years of their lives, Caesar's 20s, Kato's late teens and early 20s, to establishing their reputations and training themselves as soldiers and public speakers. They had to be careful around Sula's old friends, Caesar especially, but they never forgot what they had lived through and seen.

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