He was known as the brilliant orator who could sway and charm the hearts of the people of Rome, and as the highly intelligent Consul and cunning General accumulating vast lands for the empire. And yet, recently uncovered diary entries seem to indicate a side of Caesar that the history books never recorded, and perhaps thankfully so...
His first
entry was written in 86 B.C. Note his young idealism and early ambitions:
|
I still don't see why I can't carve out a career of my own. I made one small fiasco. You see, the olive oil business is booming these days, not to mention how much the ladies love men in the oil business, so I convinced my father to help me start my own olive oil company. Surely being in Rome, the richest, most modern city in the world, and with my father, Gaius Julius Caesar, Sr., being the Praetor over the Roman Senate I should have had the connections and the cashflow. Unfortunately I did not anticipate how easy it would be for a 14 year old to be scammed into buying large tracks of land in Brittania and Scandia to grow olive trees. Someone should have clued me into the proper climate required. Anyway, sometime later, after father settled down and allowed me to leave our home and speak to adults again, he insisted that I accept the position of Rome’s Flamen Dialis. Latin was never my strong suit, but I thought Flamen meant ‘fire’ and I was almost certain that Dialis was ‘remove.’
So, I surmised it would be my new station in life to follow the career
of Chief Firefighter for Rome. Fighting raging fires... 'This could be great fun', I thought, and so I accepted.
Then holiest of horrors! I arrived for my first day in my new position to find out that Flamen Dialis means Priest of Jupiter. A Flamma Diluo would be firefighter. I was flabbergasted, especially after I found out this was a lifetime position that forbade me to ever marry, ride horses or goats, touch anything metal or even look at a person that is considered an enemy of Rome, else I face execution, which is nearly what happened when I blurted out, "Who dreamt up these deranged, idiotic rules?!" to my new superior. Luckily, being new, it was only considered a minor infraction and I merely had to shave my head and remain mute for 3 weeks. I am now afraid to ask the bathing restrictions as the other priests appear to have extremely dirty kneecaps and elbows. What is that all about? And besides all that, I had just received a new sleek chariot for my birthday which I fully intend to use. But what am I supposed to be pulled about with, ...a gaggle of geese? I mean, how impressive is that?? But what am I saying? I am henceforth forbidden females in my life and now when my chest hairs finally came in. This is all so horrible. I don't want to be a priest! No, no, no! |
Clearly here
it was his own ineptness of Latin that set in motion his entry into the
government. Had he initially understood the position offered, he
may have refused and offended enough key officials to get no other appointments,
sealing his fate as perhaps a gladiator manager, his first love.
Instead he was in a sink or swim situation which would bring out his pluck
and resourcefulness. By 75 B.C this was apparent:
| It is quite evident to me now how important the power of persuasion is. I was finally removed as Flamen when I brazenly tossed my oh so precious ceremonial cap into the eternal flame during the feast of Mars and announced that I had gotten married to my sweet Cornelia. Granted, I did have to flee out of the temple like a frightened little barnmouse for my life, and spend 2 years under the assumed identity of Lydia, an old female bird-seller from Carthage, but eventually, thanks to my uncle’s string pulling and my own ability to schmooze my elders, I was allowed to return. I quite amazed myself and thought, perhaps, I could become a successful prosecutor with these persuasion abilities. So to hone my skills further, I set sail for Rhodes to study under the famous teacher Apollonius Molon. But as bad luck would have it, pirates captured me! Bloody uncouth thieves! They then tried to ransom me for a measly half-ton of silver, 20 talents. What an insult! Surely, I figured, I was worth more being from this great political family. So I convinced them to raise it to 50 talents, which was more like it, and once again proved my skillful powers of persuasion. Now, of course, I was bored to tears with nothing to do but wait for my ransom, so I began to write poetry to idle away the hours. Of course as pathetically uncivilized people, the pirates laughed at all of my poems. ‘Non comedi’, I repeated over and over. This generally amused them. It was apparent that they had no intentions of raising their intellect. Their daily incessant laughing irritated me to the point of telling them that when free, I intended to return and personally crucify them. ‘Crudius!’ I would say. This would cause them to laugh more. ‘Non comedi!’, I would insist as they rolled around the deck in great laughter. I was finally ransomed after 38 days and managed through political favors to gather funds to raise a fleet, pursue them, and then carry out my promise. Later I learned I was telling them quite insistently that I was not ‘a gluttonous overeater’, but would come back and give them ’indigestion’. Apparently 'comicus', not 'comdei', means 'comedian'. And I should have been saying ‘cruci’ for 'crucify'. Oh well. Who is laughing now? ...'HA HA HA'... so there. |
It is not
clear whether his faltering Latin helped him improve his oration skills,
or whether his great oration skills were so fraught with gaffes and guffaws
that the populace was simply amused by him, leading to his own interpretation
of himself as a great orator. Regardless, he grew to love the fame
and privilege he was receiving in the political arena. Clearly by
59 B.C., as we see in this next entry, he had no recourse but to further
this career or lose all he had gained:
| I have decided that I am only in my best element when I am admired by the people and living a grand life. Fortunately I possess all the qualities necessary to secure these effects save for one thing… loads of money. I can not seem to get the hang of being thrifty and still having enough to pay for lavish clothing, my gaming habits, drinking and dining to excessive, and lots of silly trinkets. How do others do it? Fortunately I think I have rectified this problem permanently. I have successfully convinced two key people in my life to form an alliance of power with me. We call ourselves 'The Triumvirate'. Crassus brings to the group his wealth and a rather extensive bath towel collection which is imperative to addicted bathers like us. Pompey brings his vast army, which I might add, has a somewhat disturbing inclination towards viciousness, particularly Mortimor whom I understand must be kept on a short leash and fed every 90 minutes. And I, of course, bring my quick wit, superior intelligence and great oration abilities. Our first rule is to remember the name of it, as it was decided by all after I unintentionally called us 'The Tricurria' during our official announcement before the Senate to a great outburst. I forgot that meant 'the three gross buffooneries’ and not 'the three commissioners’. Our first strategy was to vote me in as one of the two Consuls. Bibulus won the other Consul seat. Unfortunately Bibulus, being on the opposite end of the political spectrum than I, became a thorn in my side, vetoing any issue I presented to the Senate, even my taxation plans for sandal research which I feel is essential to us finding the key to dryer and warmer feet. We are so close to a solution if only we continue the funding. So I suggested to Pompey that we have a gentle word with him, a ‘verbero lentus’ to persuade him to our side. Pompey promptly sent several of his men to give him a slow, lingering, severe beating. Oops. I guess I meant to say ‘verbum lenis’. I am forever kicking myself for sleeping through my Latin lessons. But now with Bibulus absent, I am successfully passing our favorite legislation at will. Before my term ends I think I shall grant myself governorship of Gaul. |
Caesar was
in the prime of his life. Over the next 10 years he amassed many triumphs
securing new land and its resources for the glory of the Republic.
And yet it was still apparent that he was not in charge of his own destiny
by this 49 B.C. entry:
| Oft times the course of history is determined by the simplest of occurrences that at the time seem inconsequential. Today is a prime example. After several years of ruling Gaul and bringing them into an enlightened state nearly parallel with Rome, I required a much needed rest. I could think of no greater solace then visiting my homeland again and eating and drinking to excess in a warm bath with long lost friends. The only thing that held me back was Pompey who was currently ruling Rome. Since Crassus' death he has feared that my intentions are to dispose of him. I sent numerous letters entreating him to grant me visitation, but to no avail. I even sent a jester with a load of funny, personal jokes and skits I wrote to loosen him up. Word to the wise: never mock a man's intelligence and big bottom simultaneously for some cheap laughs. Big mistake. On the bright side, the jester reported they seemed to lighten up once he was toothless. Still, Pompey refused to see me. Finally one evening, as I sat upon my horse with my Legion at the riverbank of the Rubicon between Gaul and Rome, I decided that perhaps there was a way for me to see my Rome. If I were to steal across the river in the dark with a few of my stronger centurions we could make our way about the city without drawing much attention. We would don 'toga virilis’, catch a couple of gladiator matches at the Colosseum or Circus Maximus, buy figs at the Forum, etc. before heading back to Gaul in a few days. The idea pleased me. So I turned to my general and said, 'Others may brag…' and I am formulating my thoughts with the intentions to say, 'but I admit we are not strong enough to outlast Pompey…' when quite unexpectedly he repeated what I said as a command to the troops, 'Alea iacta est!' Suddenly all were shouting 'Alea iacta est!' in a battle cry and it occurred to me that my pronunciation of 'Alia' for 'others' sounded like 'Alea' for 'die' and apparently 'iacta' isn’t the subjective form of 'iactantia' for 'bragging'. Quite a blunder. Suddenly my troops were charging over the river as my mouth was left hanging in disbelief of my words, and I knew I had set in motion a civil war that I would have to contend with. All this for the desire of a few figs and a decent, leisurely bath. |
Poor Caesar.
Even after so many years he still had trouble differentiating simple Latin
words and phrases and was conjugating without any proficiency. At
a time when questioning his intellectual
abilities could lead to anarchy if the populace lost confidence in him,
he had to do whatever was required to save face. Fortunately for
him, the war bolstered his career enormously and lead to other interesting
turns of events chronicled in this 48 B.C. entry.
| Once the fighting started with Pompey and hundreds of men were dead I could not bring myself to admit my lingual faux pas and thought it perhaps best to let the fighting play out. Fortunately I am privileged to be in command of strong, loyal soldiers. And besides, they do have a tendency to get truly testy when they haven't fought in a while. As their commander, when I am forced to reprimand someone for a minor infraction who's had time to grind their teeth, fingernails and toenails to razor sharp points I get a bit edgy, especially when they growl during my chastising. So luckily they got in a good year's worth of hard battle before they managed to push Pompey to Greece and defeat his army at Pharsalus. I followed him as he ran to Egypt expecting the final man-to-man confrontation. I even brought a selection of weapons as I was losing sleep trying to decide how I would take him on. Obviously my men would be impressed with a nice sword fight to the finish. So I've been practicing my steps and things I will say to him as we duel. "I shall make this quick." (poke)… or… "See, your sandal is undone." (poke). Still, as I'm not sure he'll want to sword fight I also packed my heavy spiked ball and chain. I've noticed this is his weapon of choice so frankly I'm a bit worried at him besting me in this match and me having my head knocked clean off. Of course I could always sneak up behind him and lob firely torches at his clothing. I'm not above playing underhanded when it comes to keeping a spiked ball from splitting my brain apart. But fortunately upon arrival I learned the Egyptians had already killed him. I did not know whether I should be ecstatic or disheartened. After all, he had at one time been my friend and son-in-law and I recalled the laughter we shared over the mocking of certain senators and other items of mutual distain, such as metal gladiator skirts. Who can sit comfortably in those things?! Still, he had been insanely driven to kill me recently and I admit I was having trouble keeping food down just thinking of this. It was then, lost in my thoughts that the Egyptians announced their presentation of a gift for me as the new ruler of Rome. Out came a servant carrying a large rolled up carpet and I immediately thought, 'Not another carpet! The Palace atrium is already overly cluttered with them.' Then they rolled it out to show me and to my astonishment there was the Pharaoh Cleopatra inside and without her sheath on! I felt as if my head had been struck with a glass ball during a game of Trigon and quite thankfully! The benefits of conquering can not be merited enough! I gave her the thumbs up. |
At this point
Caesar was on an exponential rise to the heights of fame and power and
with probably no means to stop it even if he wanted to. Most likely
he would not have known how to. Although he could not predict the
future, Caesar seemed to have a sense of impending disaster as noted in
this 47 B.C. entry:
| I feel as if my life has spun completely out of control and I have entered some cosmos between the sublime and the absurd. In one instance my beguiling Cleopatra is insisting I go in search of new Persian rugs for her in Armenia, and I am of course obliging her as she wears carpeting better than any other woman I know, and in the next instance I am crushing the Pontines. I admit it! Let my councils get me a language instructor already; I can not seem to grasp the linguistics of formal Latin. As I watched from my Legion’s campsite high on a hill I could see King Pharnaces approaching. Delighted at the prospect of a dinner guest, I shouted to him what I intended to be a most friendly greeting of “I came, I saw neighbors“. I was very sincere and even suggested to the cook that he begin roasting some ducks that had been caught earlier and preparing assorted fruits. I had even insisted that I would test the plums for firmnest myself, leaving nothing to chance. And we would sup on my finest wine. But no sooner had these words left my lips when I heard my general Domitius repeating loudly to the troops, 'Veni, vidi, vici' and I soon realized my error...'Oh did I say ‘vici’ which is ‘conquer’?' I meant ‘vicinus’ which is ‘neighbors’'. But too late. By then thousands were embroiled in battle. Two thousand dead Pontines later I had yet another territory to command, not to mention more uncivilized barbarians to add to the welfare rolls which I desire as much as I do a knife in my back. It is no wonder that my hair is rapidly falling out in sheets. No doubt I will soon require a bigger, leafier laurel if this continues. |
Here was
classic Caesar. Falling into yet another thorn bush, but coming out
unscathed, and smelling like the roses. But how long could he keep
up this luck? All that remained was his final entry, written on March
14, 44 B.C.
| Triumph
after triumph all for Rome. I was finally honored by the Senate with
the dictatorship of Rome for life, unprecedented under modern law though
questioned by some. My vast empire is in a sad state, though, but I have
a great many ideas. First, I have given the privileges of Roman citizenship
to my key provinces. That is alot of people, but then I will have
that many more people thankful and admiring me! I cancelled one fourth of all
debts, including mine, laying the ground work for economic prosperity.
I began the overhaul of The Forum, the Senate building, the courts, and
commercial areas in the hopes of renewing our city as a cultural
center. I'm thinking marble and lots of hanging baskets. We'll put Athens to shame. And to further solidify the masses in patriotic unison to Rome
and to keep my vast legions happy, I plan to conquer the Parthians and
take over Syria. Lately they've been a little too bored, left to wander around the Senate and Palace as guards with hardly anything to do. I even spotted one of them smelling my clothes. But no more. The Roman army will show its might throughtout the world again!
Meanwhile the Senate is busy. The men are planning something involving me, I am certain of it. I thought I overheard one saying, ‘Ego nolo Caesar esse’ which could mean either ‘I do not want to be Caesar’ or ‘I do not want to eat what Caesar is eating’. Then again it could mean ‘I do not want to eat Caesar’. Hmm. Then they speak of the Ides of March which is tomorrow, and that they must ‘Carpe Diem’ – ‘Seize the day’ and what they intended was ‘pro bono publico’ - 'for the public good’. I realize Latin has never been my forte, but I am confident I have understood these commonly used phrases correctly. I can only theorize that they are planning a surprise celebration in my honor, possibly the most magnificent ever! In youth I valued intelligence, wealth, and ambition. But with age comes wisdom, and I now realize that the most important thing in life is being surrounded by friends. This is my hope tomorrow. |
And surrounded
he was. Caesar may have seen his own demise approaching, but lived
in its denial. Or, then again, maybe he just didn’t understand what
was going on around him, literally. Nevertheless, on March 15 a plot
against his life from both allies and enemies was successful. It
is rumored that his last words were ‘Et tu Brute’, spoken out of surprise
that Brutus, a man he treated as a son, was in the pack of men stabbing
him, although some say he never actually saw Brutus and was really saying
‘Et tu Frutus?’ – or ‘Who wants fruit?’ as evidenced
by the figs left in his dying hands. This, though, we will never
really know.
Please Note: This is not Caesar's actual diary. No. Although it does in places follow the many events of Caesar's life, in other places I exaggerated ideas and even made things up completely! And I don't know Latin. So, put all that together and I wouldn't be writing a term paper with this information. On the other hand, I feel pretty certain he was a fig lover.
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