The Men Who Think of Rome #5
Magnus (Poem)
This poem is based on Cassius Dio’s observation of Pompey regarding his appointment to clear the sea of pirates
[He] coveted the command. In fact, under the combined influence of his ambition and the enthusiastic support of the people, he had stopped regarding the appointment as an honour and was inclined only to think that it would reflect badly on him if he failed to get it. But, knowing that the leading men were against him, he wanted to make it look as though he was being forced to accept the command against his will. He was in any case generally inclined to pretend that he had absolutely no desire for the things he wanted, and on this occasion he dissembled even more than usual, not just because of the jealousy that would ensue if he deliberately sought the appointment, but also because of the glory that would ensue if, even despite his reluctance, he gained the command on the grounds that there was no one else so well fitted for it.
As many historians have observed, Rome bred a competitive nature among its citizens. It was perhaps the defining characteristic of the Republic, as Tom Holland suggests in Rubicon.
In practice as well as principle the Republic was savagely meritocratic. Indeed, this, to the Romans, was what liberty meant. It appeared self-evident to them that the entire course of their history had been an evolution away from slavery, toward a freedom based on the dynamics of perpetual competition.
Indeed, men jockeyed for any position or advantage that might grant them prestige and glorify their name. Romans even went to war with each other for the opportunity to lead campaigns and thereby win great honors, as in the case of Marius and Sulla, who feuded over who should get to conquer Mithridates.
After Sulla took power he tried to curb this instinct by reforming the political hierarchy, mandating minimum ages and prerequisite offices that one had to hold in order to eventually become a consul. He also expanded the number of magistracies elected each year to ease the pressure of competition for seats.
But faster than they could be created, men attained and surmounted their titles, always hungry for greater, more prestigious prizes. If a man won the consulship, he immediately dreamed of holding it again. Marius held the title seven times. And Sulla once said of Caesar, “He has in him many Mariuses.”
The fall of the Republic was nothing if not an exponential expanding of power driven proportionally by men’s desire to have it for themselves. So Marius held the consulship seven times, yet desired still to lead the command against Mithridates, so much so that he conspired to steal it from Sulla.
So too did Pompey, a generation later, race from Spain to the South of Italy to defeat the slave revolt led by Spartacus before Crassus could claim the feat for himself.
Such a desire for superiority above all others naturally led to a suspicion of anyone who pursued it. A sociological, and biological, defense mechanism against power’s ever increasing capacity for dominance. Pompey, Dio says, was cautious in accepting the command against the pirates, for he feared how it might be perceived among his peers. To stoke jealousy was to risk being thwarted before achieving one’s goals, hammered down like the nail that sticks out too much.
An evolutionary force was acting on the Romans, a trait both expressed and inhibited until it was perfected. And the Latin species culminated in that specimen called Caesar.
Magnus
The pressures public life selected for,
a prestige hunting superpredator
that stalked the wildlife of the Forum floor.
In trees, recumbent, sleek and feline.
Soon murderous, yet graceful and refined.
An instinct for honor honed its eyes.
It preyed on titles and applause,
the slender necks limp between its jaws,
and sharpened with commands its claws.
The patterns on its coat disguised
its sleight approach to every prize.
A killing beast, but lean and civilized.
So adapted to its environment,
a habitat incentivizing greatness,
it had only to appear not to want it.