Tom Stevenson’s latest book on Julius Caesar, following the publication in 2015 of Julius Caesar and the Transformation of the Roman Republic (BMCR 2015.07.27), provides a useful and well-written encyclopaedic guide to the life and works of Julius Caesar. Following a short introduction, which consists of a brief biography of Caesar and a timeline of key events in the first century BCE, the book is alphabetically arranged, containing entries on sources, historical figures, themes, places, battles, and institutions. All relevant sources for the late republic are discussed, along with their positions on and characterizations of Caesar. A significant number of prominent, and some obscure, late-republican (and even some early-republican) men and women have their own entries. There are lively descriptions of key battles from the Gallic and civil wars, and there are guides to Roman magistracies and institutions. There is also room for more abstract or thematic concepts, like ‘Kingship’, ‘Politics in Republican Rome’, and ‘Economy, Roman’.
Like his previous book, the reference guide is meant to be accessible to a broad audience. Much of the material is, by design, introductory. It forms part of Bloomsbury’s ‘Significant Figures in World History’, and is among the first volumes on a figure from antiquity. (Prudence J. Jones’s guide to Cleopatra was published a month earlier.) To date there are more than two dozen books in the series on women and men throughout history, from Joan of Arc to Nelson Mandela. The audience, according to the publisher, comprises ‘students, researchers, and history enthusiasts’. In Stevenson’s own words (pp. vii–viii), the book, instead of attempting to deal with complex issues and debates, ‘aims to be a guide, or to be of service to critical analyses of a more substantive historical or literary kind’.
Stevenson has achieved his aims. The strengths of the work are many. The entries on ancient authors are excellent, drawing the reader’s attention to their style and context, accompanied by critical discussion of their limitations as evidence. As such, they act as accessible introductions to the authors for a reader who might be tempted to read the ancient evidence for the first time. The narrative entries, especially those on historical figures and events, consist of lively and lucid narratives. Entries on battles often form gripping narratives, providing a concise summary of events for readers who are either unfamiliar with the sources, or who need reminding. The entries on historical figures (at least, on those about whom detailed information can be gleaned) are equally engaging.
The latter often culminate in qualitative assessments of the individuals. Stevenson is not shy to pass judgement. For instance, the summative assessment of Domitius Ahenobarbus reads as follows: ‘Described as arrogant and cruel, Domitius Ahenobarbus symbolizes the fanatical hatred for Caesar that existed among ultra-conservative nobles in the contemporary senate’ (p. 107). Pompey, meanwhile, was a ‘duplicitous character’ whose move away from Caesar in the late 50s was in part animated by his temperamentality. Often, the entries culminate in a broader lesson informing us about the period, which is especially effective for some of the less prominent individuals: the career of C. Calvisius Sabinus (cos. 39), for instance, ‘indicates the opportunism that could sometimes pay off handsomely during a period of civil war’ (p. 58).
A neat, if sometimes schematic, narrative emerges throughout between moderates, conservatives, and reformers. Some figures are given a fairly sympathetic portrait: Cinna is credited with presiding over a ‘moderate government’, adopting a ‘conciliatory approach’, and the enormities of the mid-80s are largely blamed on Marius (p. 82). C. Gracchus shares with Caesar ‘progressive aims’ (p. 127). Caesar, meanwhile, ‘probably sympathized with Lepidus’ cause’ in 77 (p. 148). Despite important warnings against reading Roman politics as a strict divide between optimates and populares, many of the entries are still framed in relation to the struggle between conservative elements of the senate and those more interested in reform. All of which makes perfect sense given the genre, allowing Stevenson to explore and explain personalities and events within a comprehensible narrative.
Stevenson provides repeated and important reminders, many of which draw on arguments from his 2015 book, that we should avoid viewing Caesar’s repeated dictatorships as inevitable, or accepting the teleological perspectives of the likes of Plutarch. In light of the 2023 BBC documentary (Julius Caesar: The Making of a Dictator), in which Caesar has a lifelong ambition for tyranny, several of Stevenson’s entries rightly problematize simplistic narratives which tend to frame autocracy at Rome as inevitable, and his aims as static. Stevenson’s work is didactic, evidently the product of years of teaching late-republican history. In the work’s consistent warnings against teleology, subtle arguments emerge. Caesar never sought tyranny or sole rule; the aim was peace and stability after an extended period of civil war. No reference work can be wholly neutral. Nor should it be: it was refreshing to see the author’s interpretation of Caesar and the late republic laid out consistently and lucidly.
There are a few niggling questions, though, about intended audience. It may seem, of course, to be churlish to critique a reference work on the basis of its omissions. Some may question why a number of earlier figures (such as Cincinnatus, Sp. Maelius, Camillus, Hortensius the third-century dictator, and the Gracchi) were included in the catalogue, while a number of figures who rose to prominence during Caesar’s final years and the immediate aftermath (such as C. Matius, A. Caecina, Amatius/Pseudo-Marius) were overlooked. The book, perhaps unsurprisingly, ends fairly abruptly with the death of Caesar, and aspects of the manipulation of Caesar’s memory during the triumviral period do not feature prominently. (The entry on the young Caesar is, tellingly, arranged under ‘Octavian’, and runs to just over one page.) Still, there are excellent entries on the imperial and modern receptions of Caesar (see especially the entries on individual authors like Virgil and Lucan, and the eight-page entry on Receptions of Julius Caesar).
There are also questions about whether the book is aimed more at readers interested in the late republic generally, and the events that took place in Caesar’s lifetime, or at people interested primarily in Caesar. Most of the entries work hard to explain how the institution, phenomenon, person, or event can be linked to Caesar. (Some of these are a little forced: the entry on C. Gracchus concludes with the assertion that Gracchus and Caesar shared progressive aims.) But some read more like broader encyclopaedic entries on the topic in question. The entry on the Senatus Consultum Ultimum, for instance, mentions the issues associated with the so-called SCU of January 49 only in passing. Likewise, curiously, the entries on libertas and dignitas devote little attention to the centrality of the term to Caesar’s justification for his invasion of Italy. The entry on the pomerium evades discussion of the practical and physical restrictions with which Caesar was contending in his attempts to be re-elected consul.
Indeed, there is minimal discussion of technical and legal matters. Only a small handful of laws are discussed. The entry on imperium has no mention of the technical reasons for which Caesar was attempting to have his candidature approved in his absence. The entry on the consulship has little discussion of the limitations of holding the consulship more than once, and especially about Caesar’s desire for a second consulship and the associated constitutional issues. Caesar’s sacrosanctitas is nowhere mentioned. Some key Latin terms are usefully but sparingly glossed: clementia, dignitas, imperium, virtus. Mercy consistently features under the heading clementia; Caesar’s own terminology for his ostentatious display of sparing his enemies (lenitas, mansuetudo) receives no mention. There is little discussion of Caesar’s personal relationships in the 40s and the nature of Roman friendship: amicitia and gratia did not make the cut.
These are, of course, editorial decisions informed by the intended audience. One suspects that the author deemed the law of the ten tribunes or Rome’s lack of testamentary adoption unnecessary, and that the inclusion of details such as this would risk bogging down Stevenson’s lively prose. As I say, it would be unfair to criticize a reference work for its omissions. These are perfectly reasonable decisions shaped by the intended audience and the series in which the book is published.
I saw very few, if any, inaccuracies. There are, however, a handful of assertions of highly debatable points. The rites of the Bona Dea are said here to have been held by Pompeia at Caesar’s house because he was pontifex maximus, differing from Cass. Dio 37.45.1. The radical shift between the mid-republican dictatorship and the first-century dictatorship is downplayed. Clodius is said to have spelled his name ‘in imitation of the way his name was pronounced by ordinary citizens among the plebs/plebeians’.
Stevenson’s work is highly readable, and will be very useful to a wide range of readers. It offers an alternative to other more general reference works (such as Pauly-Wissowa or the Oxford Classical Dictionary) for students working on the period, and is more accessible than these works to an audience without institutional subscriptions or access to a specialized library. Stevenson’s absorbing prose and admirable construction of narratives further enhance this accessibility. Likewise, the detailed bibliography of Anglophone scholarship, which closes out the volume and is neatly categorized, will be very useful for students, teachers, and ‘history enthusiasts’ alike.