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‘THE DIE HAS BEEN CAST!’: SUETONIUS’ CAESAR AND THE (G)LOOMING FATE OF ROME

Published online by Cambridge University Press:  27 July 2026

Consuelo Martino
Consuelo Martino*
Affiliation:
The University of Edinburgh
*
consuelo.martino@ed.ac.uk
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Abstract

This article proposes a new reading of Suetonius’ narrative regarding Caesar’s crossing of the Rubicon in 49 b.c.e. (Suet. Iul. 32). The apparition that persuades Caesar to cross the river in Suetonius has, until now, been interpreted in a positive light, as a clear endorsement of Caesar’s actions. In contrast, this article suggests that the episode is more ambiguous and critical of Caesar than previously recognized. Strong structural parallels, I argue, evoke the apparitions that appeared to Xerxes before his attack on Greece, as described in Herodotus (7.4–19), as well as the apparition that appeared to Hannibal before he crossed the Ebro, as mentioned in Livy (21.21–2), prompting readers to draw a connection between Caesar and these two notable foreign invaders. This aligns with portrayals of Caesar as hostis, or a foreign enemy, in contemporary authors such as Cicero, who also explicitly compares Caesar to Hannibal (Att. 7.11). The crossing of the Rubicon is thus interpreted as deeply ambiguous and even negative, foreshadowing Caesar’s failure and death as the ultimate consequences of this crossing and the Civil War it initiated. This innovative reading also fosters a deeper appreciation of the complexity in the construction of Caesar’s memory in Suetonius, while demonstrating Suetonius’ political interest in, and engagement with, the negative tradition surrounding Caesar as a foreign enemy following the onset of the Civil War.

Keywords

SuetoniusJulius CaesarRubiconXerxesHannibalCivil War

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Research Article
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The Classical Quarterly , Volume 75 , Issue 2 , December 2025 , pp. 853 - 869
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This is an Open Access article, distributed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution licence (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/), which permits unrestricted re-use, distribution and reproduction, provided the original article is properly cited.
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© The Author(s), 2026. Published by Cambridge University Press on behalf of The Classical Association

INTRODUCTION

Few episodes in Roman history are as famous as Caesar’s crossing of the Rubicon in the early days of January 49 b.c.e. The crossing of Caesar and his thirteenth legion from Gaul into Roman territory signalled the onset of a long period of civil war that ultimately resulted in the establishment of Augustus’ Principate and the end of the Republican system in 27 b.c.e. Despite the extraordinary notoriety of the episode, the crossing of this small river was not a common topic of discussion during the Civil War or Caesar’s lifetime. Neither Cicero nor Caesar himself, our main contemporary sources, mentions the episode.Footnote 1 Some relevant testimonies might have been lost, and so we must wait until the Early Imperial era to find the first reference to the Rubicon in the Tiberian historian Velleius Paterculus’ History of Rome. Among the ancient authors who describe the episode, it is Caesar’s second-century biographer C. Suetonius Tranquillus who gives one of the most fascinating accounts.

In Suet. Iul. 32, Caesar is portrayed as reluctant to start hostilities against his own state. He is then prompted to do so by a gigantic, divine-looking figure, who steals one of the soldiers’ trumpets and, leading by example, encourages Caesar and his army to proceed with the crossing and start the war:

cunctanti ostentum tale factum est: quidam eximia magnitudine et forma in proximo sedens repente apparuit harundine canens, ad quem audiendum cum praeter pastores plurimi etiam ex stationibus milites concurrissent interque eos et aeneatores, rapta ab uno tuba prosiliuit ad flumen et ingenti spiritu classicum exorsus pertendit ad alteram ripam. tunc Caesar, ‘eatur,’ inquit, ‘quo deorum ostenta et inimicorum iniquitas uocat: iacta alea est’ {inquit}.Footnote 2

As he was hesitating, the following apparition occurred: someone of splendid size and beauty suddenly appeared, sitting close by, playing music on a reed pipe. When in addition to several shepherds, even soldiers, including trumpeters, had left their posts and hurried to listen to him, he seized a trumpet from one of them, leapt forward towards the river, and, after sounding the call to arms with a huge draw of breath, he crossed over to the other bank. Then Caesar said: ‘Let us go and follow the call of the apparition of the gods and the injustice of our enemies: the die has been cast!’

The apparition (note ostentum from ostendere ‘to show’ and, especially, repente apparuit) of the young man has been interpreted as a favourable omen for Caesar’s crossing: a sign that the gods are on his side and will lead him and his army across the river towards war.Footnote 3 Indeed, this is how Suetonius’ Caesar interprets it. Scholars have often read it in relation to Suetonius’ alleged intention to support Caesar’s actions, as this represents a fundamental step towards the establishment of the Principate and autocratic power, which Suetonius preferred to the chaos of the Late Republic.Footnote 4 Jeffrey Beneker states that ‘the apparition at the Rubicon … would certainly indicate the propriety of Caesar’s crossing and would justify the focus on Caesar as an agent of constitutional change … even supplies a supernatural endorsement to Caesar’s invasion’.Footnote 5 He also suggests that Suetonius’ anecdote might be a pro-Caesarian response to Lucan.Footnote 6 Robert A. Tucker, while analysing Lucan’s version of the crossing of the Rubicon, states that Lucan might have used the same evidence from Suetonius but preferred not to adopt ‘the positive tone of Suetonius’ beckoning apparition of an enthralling and handsome piper who encouraged Caesar to move his troops across Italy’s northern boundary’.Footnote 7 Consequently, Lucan replaced it with the more negative apparition of the distressed Patria.

In this article, I present a novel interpretation of the episode and will argue that Suetonius’ account is not a straightforward endorsement of Caesar’s actions. On the contrary, the narrative becomes uncertain when considered as part of a broader, much more ambiguous tradition of divine prodigies appearing to other historical non-Roman figures before embarking on a significant military venture, namely the Persian king Xerxes and the Carthaginian commander Hannibal. Deborah Steiner has already demonstrated how Livy’s Hannibal, in the chapters concerning the crossing of the Rhone (Livy 21.28.5–29), alludes to Xerxes’ bridge on the Hellespont, illustrating the intertextual relationship between Livy and the Herodotean tradition on the Persian king.Footnote 8 She also demonstrates the close similarities between Xerxes’ and Hannibal’s dreams before engaging in war.Footnote 9 Building on Steiner’s work, I suggest adding Suetonius’ account of Caesar’s apparition at the Rubicon as an additional element in the comparison between Xerxes and Hannibal.

So far, scholars have largely focussed on identifying which god is represented by the apparition at the Rubicon.Footnote 10 I propose here, by contrast, to analyse its wider political and historical implications. By placing Suetonius’ Caesar in dialogue with Herodotus’ Xerxes and Livy’s Hannibal, I will demonstrate that Suetonius’ description of this apparition is not as straightforward and positive as is commonly believed, even if it may have originated from a pro-Caesarian source.Footnote 11 On the contrary, Suetonius questions Caesar’s actions and portrays him as a foreign enemy. Despite the different nature of the apparitions (Hannibal’s and Xerxes’ are dreams, while Caesar is fully awake), I suggest that the divine apparitions as such, which all equally occur at the crucial point of decision for (or against) a fateful war, and all ostensibly support, even motivate, the decision to embark on those respective wars, create a strong parallel that justifies bringing Suetonius’ Caesar into dialogue with the other two (in)famous leaders. Even assuming that the apparition was Caesar’s stratagem to convince his soldiers to follow him into the Civil War, as Butler and Cary have proposed, Suetonius’ language—the use of the technical term ostentum along with repente apparuit, which stresses the young man’s apparition out of the blue—clearly evokes the context of divination and prodigy at crucial moments of military leadership and, hence, raises the question of the parallel between Caesar, Xerxes and Hannibal, which deserves to be investigated.Footnote 12

The core of my reading of Suetonius is based on intertextuality. Despite the rise of intertextual studies of Latin literature over the last two decades, Suetonius, oddly, has not yet received much attention from this point of view. When intertextuality in Suetonius has been discussed at all, the focus has been on mapping precise verbal correspondences, for example with Virgil and Catullus, and with contemporary texts such as Pliny’s Panegyricus.Footnote 13 Recent studies of intertextuality, however, have stressed the importance of moving beyond close textual correspondences between texts and considering a broader spectrum of intertextual links.Footnote 14 Adam Kemezis, for example, has demonstrated recently how ‘recurring patterns rather than specific textual references’ between texts convey different readers’ experiences, which involve ‘empire-wide commonalities that could create a shared vocabulary for more distant authors and audiences’.Footnote 15 Such an inclusive approach to intertextuality opens up new ways to explore the relationship between Suetonius and other historiographical texts, which have not yet been systematically studied.Footnote 16 Even less explored are literary connections between Suetonius and non-Roman historiography.Footnote 17

This article will show, first, that Suetonius’ account of the crossing does not condone Caesar’s actions just because they will lead to the establishment of the Principate. On the contrary, the passage questions Caesar’s decision, showing both his recklessness towards fellow Romans and the long-term political consequences. Second, and more importantly, I demonstrate that, in order really to appreciate the political importance of Suetonius’ text and his authorial choices, we must read the text within a broader historiographical context. In his pivotal work on Suetonius’ Caesars, Andrew Wallace-Hadrill posits that Suetonius ‘has no place in a history of political ideal of liberty. He avoids politics as a subject’ and that ‘without the dynamic element of narrative he cannot describe … the conflict of principate and liberty’.Footnote 18 Similarly, Jeffrey Beneker argues that, by the second century, ‘the recollection of Republican ideals’ had ‘lost its appeal’ and that ‘Suetonius did not feel compelled to question its propriety’, suggesting a lack of critical thought in Suetonius’ engagement with Cicero’s criticism of Caesar about the outbreak of the Civil War.Footnote 19

By focussing on Suetonius’ description of the crossing of the Rubicon I challenge this view of Suetonius as a writer who lacks both political awareness of the loss of Republican freedom and a full understanding of the political value of his sources. This article will offer a more nuanced comprehension of Suetonius’ text and its role in the development of the memory culture of Caesar and the Civil Wars in the Imperial era.Footnote 20

By looking at this passage in a broader historiographical and non-Roman tradition, and by illustrating the intertextual relationship between Suetonius, Livy and Herodotus, I aim to encourage a deeper appreciation of the importance of intertextuality, with Greek as well as Latin authors, to our understanding of Suetonius. Exploring the parallels between Suetonius’ Caesar and Hannibal and Xerxes will also contribute to a re-evaluation of the still prominent view of Suetonius as a non-political writer (see above).Footnote 21 In order to appreciate Suetonius as a political author, we must consider his narrative choices as part of a broader historiographical tradition about leadership and decision-making in the context of dangerous and traumatic wars, which cuts across Latin and Greek texts. The next section explores the ancient tradition around the crossing of the Rubicon to emphasize Suetonius’ unique approach to the event. Building on this, the third section then develops the intertextual relationship between Suetonius’ Caesar, Xerxes and Hannibal.

THE TRADITION OF THE CROSSING OF THE RUBICON

As a starting point, it is important to summarize briefly the alternative traditions on the crossing of the Rubicon. This will contextualize Suetonius’ particular account and highlight the importance of discussing it in a wider historiographical tradition.

As mentioned, there is no reference to the Rubicon in Caesar’s own account of the Civil War, the Bellum Ciuile. In the opening chapters (BCiu. 1.1–7), he only reports to his soldiers (and readers) the events that ‘forced’ him to move against the Senate and Pompey. It is likely that Caesar’s main reason for omitting the crossing is that any mention would have put the focus on his own responsibility for the outbreak of the war.Footnote 22 Cicero too is silent about the crossing. Livy’s Periocha of Book 109 does not mention the Rubicon, and its absence in Florus might also indicate that it was not in the Ab Vrbe condita.Footnote 23 However, the presence of the Rubicon in Orosius, who explicitly refers to Livy in the passage (ut ait Liuius), has prompted Peter Bicknell and Dana Nielsen to suggest that the episode was, in fact, included by Livy.Footnote 24

The first surviving work to mention the crossing is by the Tiberian historian and soldier Velleius Paterculus. Velleius is generally favourable to Caesar, emphasizing some actions and omitting others freely.Footnote 25 In his account of the beginning of the Civil War, Velleius follows Caesar’s claim regarding its ‘inevitability’ as expressed in the Bellum Ciuile. However, his version differs from Caesar’s as it includes the crossing of the Rubicon. After hearing the conditions of the Senate and their request that Caesar enter the city as a private citizen, Velleius writes: ‘Believing that it was necessary to wage war, Caesar crossed the Rubicon with his army’ (2.49.4 ratus bellandum Caesar cum exercitu Rubiconem transiit). The Rubicon is denoted as the frontier of Gallia Cisalpina, one of the provinces allocated to Caesar.Footnote 26 Velleius does not embellish his text with details of what happened before crossing the river and does not include any mention of divine intervention.

After Velleius, there is no reference to the Rubicon in the surviving literature until the Neronian era in Lucan’s Bellum Ciuile. Lucan’s poem on the Civil War between Caesar and Pompey is known for its negative representation of Caesar. Lucan compares him to lightning that strikes and leaves behind destruction (1.143–57). His account of the crossing of the Rubicon (1.182–227) continues this negative characterization, giving the Rubicon prominence as the starting point of the Civil War: it is the place where Caesar could have retreated to preserve peace (and the Republic), but decided to attack Rome instead. After crossing the Alps and planning ‘immense upheavals’ (ingentes motus) for Rome, Caesar arrives at the banks of this small river.Footnote 27 Here, an ‘immense image of the Patria’ appears to him (1.186 ingens uisa duci patriae trepidantis imago), in a last attempt to stop the invasion, thus delaying Caesar’s plans.Footnote 28

The confrontation between Caesar and the apparition of the Patria at the outbreak of the Civil War is instrumental to Lucan’s representation of the event.Footnote 29 Lucan describes Patria as a woman in distress, with a grieving face and white hair, in stark contrast with the military aggressive figure of Caesar. Lucan’s Caesar, initially scared by the apparition, quickly recovers and promptly justifies his actions, invoking Roman deities such as Jupiter, the Julian Penates, Quirinus and Vesta, to underline his attachment to Rome and its tradition. Moreover, at the end of his speech, he emphasizes that he is not attacking his homeland with dreadful weapons (1.200 furialibus armis). On the contrary, he, uictor terra marique, is Rome’s very own soldier (tuus miles), and is forced to be her enemy by Pompey, who is the real hostis, together with the Senate who supports him.Footnote 30 After Velleius’ mention and Lucan’s destructive characterization of the episode, the crossing of the Rubicon has now become a fundamental turning point in the memory of the Civil Wars and remained a central event in later accounts of the start of the conflict.

The Greek versions of the episode, in Plutarch (Vit. Caes. 32) and Appian (B Ciu. 2.35.137–41), are very similar to one another, so much so that scholars have argued that each depends on the lost Histories of Asinius Pollio.Footnote 31 Neither involves any kind of apparition. Both authors describe Caesar’s crossing as taking place during the night, after he had welcomed the tribunes and addressed the troops in Ravenna; this is followed by the capture of Ariminum at dawn. Unlike Lucan, they mention Caesar’s hesitation to cross the river and report the famous declaration ἀνερρίφθω κύβος (‘let the die be cast!’), once Caesar had decided to cross.Footnote 32 Plutarch informs his readers that Caesar weighed carefully the risks of his actions, ‘considering what great evils his crossing would cause to all mankind’ (ἀναλογιζόμενος ἡλίκων κακῶν ἄρξει πᾶσιν ἀνθρώποις ἡ διάβασις, Vit. Caes. 32.7).Footnote 33 Then, as if inspired by an external force, he decides to cross. The two authors differ on the nature of the inspiration. Plutarch (Vit. Caes. 32.8) has Caesar ‘possessed’ ‘with a sort of passion’ (μετὰ θυμοῦ τινος). Appian (B Ciu. 2.35.140) adds a divine element in the use of ἔνθους to describe the way in which Caesar speaks before the crossing occurs: ‘speaking as someone inspired by the god’ (εἰπὼν οἷά τις ἔνθους).Footnote 34 Some sort of supernatural element is common in most narratives of the crossing of the Rubicon, as we have seen in Lucan, Plutarch and Appian, but this is nowhere as prominent and instrumental to the crossing as in Suetonius.Footnote 35

Suetonius blends all the elements in the accounts discussed so far. We find Caesar’s hesitation, as in Plutarch and Appian, and a supernatural apparition, as in Lucan. Lucan’s Patria is the closest parallel to Suetonius’ larger-than-life young man, yet there are important differences. Despite the visual similarities (both are enormous figures), the role of Lucan’s Patria, as noted above, is to make a last desperate attempt to halt Caesar. The less ominous atmosphere in Suetonius, introduced by public spectacles at Iul. 31 and by the rustic scene at Iul. 32, is reinforced by the apparition playing music.Footnote 36 This atmosphere stands in contrast to the horror ducis in Lucan (1.192) and the solemn representation of the council of friends in Plutarch and Appian, leading to an ostensibly more positive interpretation of the event and subsequent support for Caesar’s actions.Footnote 37 However, this support is superficial. Once we engage Suetonius’ text with the historiographical evidence related to Xerxes and Hannibal, a more ambivalent and even negative interpretation emerges. This interpretation also provides a new perspective on the similarities between Suetonius and Lucan. Instead of viewing Suetonius as offering a ‘Caesarian response’ to Lucan’s Patria, the negative undertones associated with the crossing of the Rubicon in the Diuus Iulius, discussed in the next section, suggest that the two narratives engage in continuous dialogue to highlight the dangers and devastation that the decision to wage war against Rome can bring.

CAESAR, XERXES AND HANNIBAL

Up to this point we have seen that Lucan and Suetonius are the only two authors in which an apparition appears to Caesar before the crossing of the Rubicon. Plutarch’s and Appian’s texts include a supernatural element in the form of (divine) inspiration, but do not discuss any apparition or dream opposing or (ostensibly) endorsing his actions.Footnote 38 When we read Suetonius’ account within the larger context of river crossings preceding the outbreak of particularly destructive wars, however, we notice important structural parallels with similar episodes described by earlier authors that cast a dubious light on Caesar’s actions. The strong parallels between the episode in Suetonius and both the crossing of Xerxes into Europe (Hdt. 7.5–19) and Hannibal’s crossing of the Ebro (Livy 21.21–2) support this argument, showing that Suetonius carefully depicts Caesar negatively as a foreign enemy at the onset of the Civil War. The parallel also demonstrates that this episode should be included in the hostility towards Caesar, rather than being interpreted as supportive in view of the establishment of the Principate.

I shall begin with the chronologically earliest parallel, Xerxes’ dreams at the beginning of Book 7 of Herodotus’ Histories. After the death of Darius (7.4) and Xerxes’ presentation as the new king of the Persians, the first thing Herodotus highlights is that ‘at first, Xerxes was not willing to make war on Greece’ (7.5.1 ὁ τοίνυν Ξέρξης ἐπὶ μὲν τὴν Ἑλλάδα οὐδαμῶς πρόθυμος ἦν κατ᾿ ἀρχὰς στρατεύεσθαι). His cousin Mardonius, the Aleuadae from Thessaly, and the Pisistratids from Athens, however, persuade him to avenge his father’s defeat at Marathon in 490 b.c.e.Footnote 39 After summoning a council of his closest advisers, Xerxes, supported once more by Mardonius, informs them of his decision to attack Greece. Xerxes’ uncle Artabanus believes that Persia will lose the war and attempts to change Xerxes’ mind; however, his moderate, rational speech only provokes Xerxes’ wrath (7.10–11). After the meeting ends, Herodotus reports that Xerxes, far from being sure about the upcoming war, continues to weigh up his options. Artabanus’ view, namely that Persia will lose, continues to bother Xerxes (7.12). Should he wage war and try to conquer Greece and Europe and thereby the known world, or focus on the territories already under his control? Unsure, but leaning towards calling off the expedition, Xerxes falls asleep and dreams. A vision (ὄψις) appears to Xerxes in the form of a tall, handsome man (7.12.1 ἐδόκεε ὁ Ξέρξης ἄνδρα οἱ ἐπιστάντα μέγαν τε καὶ εὐειδέα) who encourages him to proceed with the invasion. Xerxes wakes up, not believing in the dream and intending to pursue his nocturnal change of plan to stop the imminent conflict. The apparition, however, returns the next night and reprimands Xerxes for ignoring his advice, leaving the king terrorized (7.15.1 περιδεής). Uncertain how to proceed, Xerxes consults Artabanus, who suggests that dreams reflect the dreamers’ inner thoughts, and the king should not pay too much attention.Footnote 40 Xerxes asks his uncle to take his place in the tent in order to test the apparition. When Artabanus is visited by the dream too, he is convinced that this is a favourable omen sent by the gods and changes his perspective on the war with Greece. Only at this point does Xerxes decide to go ahead with the invasion, which ended with Persia’s ultimate defeat in 479 b.c.e. at Platea, after the maritime loss at Salamis in 480 b.c.e.Footnote 41

Links between Caesar and Xerxes were already established by Suetonius’ time. Lucan explicitly compared Caesar and Xerxes, though not with specific reference to the Rubicon (2.670–9). Elaine Fantham has also identified an allusion to Xerxes at Luc. 9.964–99, when Caesar visits the ruins of Troy, where Xerxes too had stopped (Hdt. 7.43).Footnote 42 Suetonius, I suggest, builds on this tradition and takes it a step further. Similarities between the apparitions are easy to detect. Both figures are described as tall, beautiful men, not identified with any specific deity or person but clearly with a divine association (Hdt. 7.12.1 ἄνδρα … μέγαν τε καὶ εὐειδέα; Suet. Iul. 32 quidam … eximia magnitudine et forma).Footnote 43 Both leaders hesitate to declare war until the larger-than-life (divine) apparition forces their decision. The apparitions also suggest a way to avoid or reduce taking responsibility for the war: if divinely ordained, the commander of the army is less responsible for it.Footnote 44 Finally, in order to begin their respective offensives, both Xerxes and Caesar need to cross a waterway with their army: the narrow Rubicon for Caesar, a larger strait for Xerxes, requiring an extraordinary effort (the famous ship bridge, Hdt. 7.55–6).Footnote 45

It may be argued at this point that the outcome of the war is different for Xerxes and Caesar—that is, Caesar wins the Civil War against Pompey and the Senate. By 45 b.c.e., after the victory at Munda against the remaining Pompeian forces, he was ‘master’ of Rome. However, the final outcome was his assassination after being made dictator perpetuus in early March 44 b.c.e. It is therefore possible to maintain that, in both instances, military campaigns do not result in ultimate victory. Caesar’s annihilation of his political enemies is a victory of sorts, but the looming shadow of the assassination and the fate that Caesar will meet in a few years is enough for a reader to see how both expeditions eventually end badly.Footnote 46 In the case of Caesar, moreover, we should add a wider political interpretation. Despite the intentions of the conspirators, Caesar’s assassination did not rebalance the division of power in the Roman Republic nor restore peace. On the contrary, as Suetonius and his contemporaries knew, it prompted an even longer period of civil strife that would (temporarily) end after Octavian’s victory at Actium in 31 b.c.e. and the establishment of the Principate. Even if we postulate that Suetonius was an unconditional supporter of the Principate and saw the Civil Wars as a step towards its establishment (a reading with which I disagree), it is undeniable that the apparition at the Rubicon raises questions in relation to this view. The comparison with Xerxes highlights negative readings of Caesar’s actions: despite the initial promise of ‘divine’ support, both leaders are destined to fail.Footnote 47

Another possible objection to the intertextual parallel suggested here might be that Xerxes is a foreign invader, whereas Caesar starts a civil war with his own people. However, the fact that Xerxes is a foreign king and Caesar is a Roman fighting other Romans is only at first sight an objection. Taking a closer look, this turns out to be a further parallel between the two leaders. Xerxes is consistently described as ‘the Other’ in Greek literature.Footnote 48 Read alongside Xerxes’ dream, Caesar’s hesitation and the divine endorsement that resolves it result in an almost complete overlap between the two figures. Caesar is, as it were, de-Romanized and portrayed as a foreign intruder, very much like Xerxes. This association between pivotal examples of external enemies in Graeco-Roman history and Caesar is not a single occurrence. In the context of the Civil War, Caesar was portrayed often as non-Roman in attitude. In 49 b.c.e., before the crossing of the Rubicon took place, Pompey and the Senate had already described Caesar as ‘external’ to Rome. After the crossing, they also compared his march to the Gallic sack of 390 b.c.e.Footnote 49 Commenting on Caesar’s march on Rome, Cicero famously asked Atticus whether they were talking about a Roman general or about Hannibal.Footnote 50

The ‘un-Roman-ness’ of Caesar is even sharper when we compare the apparition in Suetonius’ story with Hannibal’s dream before crossing the river Ebro. The connection between Caesar and Hannibal already had strong political significance in Roman cultural memory in Hannibal’s capacity as Rome’s most dangerous external enemy. He is central in Polybius’ History on the rise of Rome’s power (covering most of Books 3–15) and in the third decade of Livy’s Ab Vrbe condita. He is also the focus of biographies (Nepos’ Life of Hannibal), collections of exempla (for example Val. Max. 1.7.ext.1), and military handbooks (Frontinus’ Strategemata).Footnote 51 Moreover, in the Flavian era, he became the main antagonist in Silius Italicus’ Punica, which provided a new imperial interpretation of his fame and actions.Footnote 52 For the purpose of my argument, I will discuss the evidence concerning the beginning of the war in 218 b.c.e. in Livy (21.21–2) and Silius Italicus (Pun. 3.158–221). These accounts of the same event, as we shall see, present numerous similarities with the apparition at the Rubicon and provide further support for the argument proposed here. Analogies between Hannibal’s crossing of the Ebro and Suetonius’ description of Caesar’s crossing of the Rubicon are even more evident when we consider other close parallels between the two men, in historiography as well as in the Diuus Iulius.

At the beginning of Book 21, Livy writes that Hannibal, after a review of his troops in preparation for the invasion of Italy, sets off to Gades to make new vows in the temple of Hercules, a deity important to him (21.21.9).Footnote 53 The association between Hannibal and Hercules in Gades is especially relevant when we consider that Caesar himself will pay a visit to the same temple during his quaestorship in 69 b.c.e., where, in front of a statue of Alexander the Great, he wept at his (perceived) inadequacy compared to Alexander (Suet. Iul. 7).Footnote 54 Omitted by Polybius, Hannibal’s visit to Gades adds an important element to Livy’s history and characterization of Hannibal, forming a sort of narrative triangle between Alexander, Hannibal and Caesar, all united by their devotion to Hercules and, in the case of Hannibal and Caesar, their visits to his temple in Gades.Footnote 55 Hercules thus functions as a historical, divine and literary reference for both Hannibal and Caesar in their plans for world domination, prompting Livy’s readers to associate the two. But there is more in the ancient evidence than a devotion to Hercules that encourages a link between Hannibal and Caesar and a comparison between the two in imperial memory culture.

The association between Caesar and Hannibal continued in the imperial discourse about the Civil War. In Lucan’s Bellum Ciuile there are at least three direct references to Caesar as a ‘new Hannibal’ (1.21–32, 1.299–307, 7.794–803).Footnote 56 Hannibal first appears in Lucan’s prologue, where he is paired with Pyrrhus to emphasize how Caesar shall be seen as worse than both for fighting his fellow Romans. Lucan then includes a reference to Hannibal in Caesar’s speech to his troops before the start of the war and the crossing of the Alps to criticize Pompey and the Senate, who fled Rome in fear of him.Footnote 57 Hannibal then resurfaces once again in the description of the aftermath of Pharsalus in Book 7, when Caesar has become worse than Hannibal by refusing to cremate the bodies of his enemies and fellow Roman citizens. Perhaps in response to Lucan, Eumolpus’ poem on the Civil War (Bellum Ciuile) in Petronius’ Satyricon (119–24) also points out these associations between Caesar and Hannibal, adding Hercules to the equation.Footnote 58 Considering all this evidence, the Hannibalic element of Caesar’s memory is particularly strong by the time Suetonius writes the Diuus Iulius. I suggest that Suetonius’ account of the apparition at the Rubicon supports this widespread association between Caesar and Hannibal.

Suetonius’ intertextual relationship with Livy’s Hannibal is evident when we return to the young man that appears to Caesar and his men and compare him to the apparition that appears to Hannibal in Livy after his visit to Hercules’ temple in Gades, discussed above. At Livy 21.22.5, after returning to New Carthage, Hannibal marched to the Ebro.Footnote 59 Here we find a first parallel between Caesar and Hannibal, as Livy reports that Hannibal is said (fama est) to have had a dream in which ‘a young man of divine appearance’ (iuuenis diuina specie) appeared to him and claimed that Jupiter had sent him as a guide to Italy, implying that Jupiter, king of the gods, endorses Hannibal’s plan to move war against the Romans.Footnote 60 In Livy, moreover, the young man orders Hannibal not to look behind him.Footnote 61 Despite the order, Hannibal turns around and sees a giant snake, causing massive destruction to trees and bushes. When Hannibal asks about its significance, the figure tells him that the snake represents the forthcoming ‘destruction of Italy’ (uastitas Italiae) and that he should proceed with the invasion.Footnote 62 Ostensibly, Hannibal’s dream, similarly to Xerxes’ dreams in Herodotus, seems to endorse Hannibal’s plan of invasion; Hannibal feels encouraged to move forward and crosses the Ebro. In fact, as Chris Pelling has argued, the situation is much less clear. As Livy’s readers will note, Hannibal is ‘missing something in the dream’s signification’: in contrast to Hannibal’s unambiguously positive interpretation of the dream, readers with the benefit of hindsight may infer that the apparition anticipates Hannibal’s initial successes and his ‘ultimate failure’.Footnote 63 Knowing the outcome of the war, Livy’s readers (like Herodotus’) would likely conceive the dream as misleading, appearing to support Hannibal’s plans against the Romans while in fact predicting his failure.Footnote 64

The similarities with Suetonius’ account of the episode at the Rubicon are striking. In both accounts, at a significant crossing that will start a momentous war, an apparently divine being appears that prompts the leaders to cross the river and start a war. Suetonius’ readers might also have noticed a direct verbal connection between Hannibal’s foreign invasion and Caesar’s Civil War: the phrase uastitas Italiae is strongly associated in a range of Latin texts with the devastation of civil war, thus making the connection between Hannibal and Caesar even more significant.Footnote 65 Moreover, both apparitions lead to war and devastation in Italy specifically. The anonymity of the apparition is also a significant element of comparison between the two events.

In another version of the episode, Cicero (Diu. 1.49) reports that Hannibal’s story was first written in Greek by Silenus, one of the historians who followed Hannibal on the expedition (Nep. Hann. 13), and then was transferred into the historical record by the annalist Coelius Antipater, one of Livy’s known sources.Footnote 66 In Coelius/Silenus, it was not an anonymous young man who appeared to Hannibal in a dream; instead, Hannibal was summoned to a council of gods where Jupiter himself ratified his anti-Roman mission and encouraged him to cross the Alps. The direct presence of Jupiter, king of the gods, results in a stronger, more explicit endorsement of Hannibal’s mission, so much so that Claudio Vacanti has postulated a Carthaginian origin for this account.Footnote 67 Jupiter acquires an even more central role in Silius’ version of Hannibal’s dream in the Punica, a work that is closer to Suetonius’ own time.Footnote 68

Silius foregrounds the deceptive nature of the dream more explicitly while encouraging a comparison between Suetonius’ apparition at the Rubicon and Hannibal’s vision, which is narrated at length at Pun. 3.158–221 and is believed to be largely based on Livy’s version.Footnote 69 Silius’ Hannibal is in Gades when Jupiter sends Mercury to him, encouraging the invasion of Italy. Contrary to the apparitions of Xerxes in Herodotus and Hannibal in Livy, which rely on the reader’s hindsight to recognize their ambiguity, Silius’ interpretation of the dream is unequivocal. Jupiter’s motives to encourage Hannibal’s attack are based on his wish ‘to test the Roman people by peril’ (3.163–4 gentem exercere periclis | Dardaniam) and, in so doing, enhance their glory through war (3.164–5 fama saeuorum tollere ad astra | bellorum). Jupiter has decided (and, like Silius and his readers, already knows) that the outcome will be favourable to the Romans. In contrast, Livy’s iuuenis does not reveal immediately the divine intention of supporting Rome instead of Hannibal. Likewise, the apparition at the Rubicon ostensibly signals endorsement of Caesar, who (like Hannibal) will be successful at first but will fall victim to his own hybris in the end.

Read in this way, Suetonius’ description of Caesar’s destiny is significantly less optimistic than it initially appears. The examples examined here show that the meaning of the apparition on the banks of the Rubicon is not a straightforward endorsement of his decision to attack, especially when one considers the final outcome. In the cases of Xerxes as well as Hannibal, the reader’s hindsight is key to the interpretation of the dream and of the divine intervention prompting the start of momentous military events. This is true for Suetonius’ Caesar too. Knowing what Caesar’s crossing will bring about, a reader of Suetonius may well ask if this apparition is actually supporting Caesar’s decision to declare war on his own people, or deceiving him with a promise of divine support that will be removed after his abuse of power is revealed.Footnote 70 The intertextual link with Herodotus and Livy suggests a more complex evaluation of Caesar’s decision to start the Civil War that undercuts any superficially positive aspects of this decision, making the portrayal of Suetonius’ apparition more akin to Lucan’s appearance of the Patria than previously thought.

This pessimism in Suetonius is already hinted at in Iul. 30, where Suetonius compares Caesar’s alleged reason to attack his country (praetextum) with his real motives (causae), which he would have found in a tradition hostile to Caesar.Footnote 71 The use of numerous hostile voices suggests Suetonius’ scepticism regarding Caesar’s justification and emphasizes instead Caesar’s attempt to seize sole power.Footnote 72 The similarities with Xerxes and Hannibal here demonstrated constitute an additional layer of sophistication to the political portrayal of Caesar in those years that emerges in the Diuus Iulius and shows the real nature of Caesar’s behaviour. Although Caesar may claim to act against the injustice of his personal enemies (inimicorum iniquitas), he is truly acting as a hostis.Footnote 73 Lucan’s poem had already stressed this aspect.Footnote 74 This reading further enhances our understanding of Suetonius’ account of Caesar’s decision-making and prompts us to question the prevailing positive reading of the outbreak of the war. The passage provides evidence against Beneker’s view that ‘Suetonius does not criticize … the seizure of power itself’ and shows instead that Suetonius’ version should be interpreted within the political tradition of hostility towards Caesar.Footnote 75

As discussed, one of the reasons for this positive evaluation is the idea that Suetonius presents Caesar’s crossing of the Rubicon as necessary to the establishment of the Principate. Suetonius, it is held, had a positive view of the Principate; therefore, he must have presented the crossing of the Rubicon positively, as a decisive step towards it. As Lucan put it at the beginning of the Bellum Ciuile (1.33–4, 37 quod si non aliam uenturo fata Neroni | inuenere uiam … iam nihil, o superi, querimur), that same Civil War may be (ironically?) accepted as a ‘necessary’ evil the Romans had to endure to establish the Augustan Principate.Footnote 76 However, just as Lucan’s prologue is much less straightforward than it seems, the preceding discussion suggests that we ought to be equally wary of assuming such an unabashedly optimistic view of the Civil War in Suetonius. Underneath its positive surface, there is a sinister literary and historiographical undercurrent that prompts readers to ponder Caesar’s downfall and the destruction he wreaks, rather than simply accept his initial successes and the eventual establishment of the Principate. Moreover, once we take the intertextual relationship between Suetonius, Livy and Herodotus into account, the boundary between the optimistic Caesarian reading of the episode, which supports the use of civil war to achieve power, and the condemnation of Caesar’s memory as a tyrannical foreign usurper also becomes increasingly blurred. This interpretation of the passage shows that Suetonius’ account of the crossing of the Rubicon should not be considered part of a pro-Caesarian tradition. Rather, it allows us to link Suetonius with the tradition of critical political thought on Caesar that started during his lifetime and continued throughout the first century c.e., allowing us to appreciate Suetonius as a more politically astute author.

The interpretation suggested here thus also prompts us to rethink common assumptions about Suetonius’ view of the Principate. As Catherine Connors has convincingly argued about Petronius’ poem, ‘to tell the story of Julius Caesar is to tell the story whose “end” is Augustus—and Tiberius, Caligula, Claudius and Nero’.Footnote 77 This view, I would suggest, is applicable also to Suetonius: Caesar crossing the Rubicon does not just lead to Augustus. It also leads to the Julio-Claudian and Flavian dynasties, as well as Nerva, Trajan and, later, Hadrian. The butterfly effect, as it were, of Caesar’s action is much larger than initially assumed. It brings with it not only the positive Principate of Augustus but also the ‘tyranny’ of emperors such as Caligula, Nero and Domitian. Caesar crossing the Rubicon is not simply the event that allows the Principate to take shape: it is also the event that will lead Rome through civil wars to the rule of bad, tyrannical emperors. Finally, in a period when Caesar’s memory had acquired renewed prominence in the political discourse, Suetonius’ interpretation of Caesar as a foreign enemy is asking his readers to reflect carefully on the ambiguity that often attends those in power, even when that power seems to be endorsed by divine forces, such as Trajan.Footnote 78 As Roy Gibson notes, Pliny’s reference to Trajan’s works and diversion of the rivers in Dacia discussed at Ep. 8.4.2 (addressed to Caninius Rufus, who had begun to write an epic poem on the Dacian Wars) might also cast a ‘Persian’ shadow over Trajan. Trajan’s further works on the Danube (re-diversion after Decebalus’ intervention) and the building of the famous bridge would suggest a closer association between the emperor and the Persian king Darius, who built a bridge over the same river in Herodotus (3.117, 4.89, 4.97–8, 4.133–42).Footnote 79 Even though Caninius’ poem was not preserved, as Gibson underlines, Pliny stressing work on the rivers, reminiscent of the tyrannical behaviour of Darius, is enough to suggest that ‘the notion of tyrannical behaviour has perhaps been planted’.Footnote 80 Suetonius’ account highlights the perils of the Caesarian precedent, making the connection with the Trajanic present even stronger through reference to Xerxes, Hannibal and river-crossing.Footnote 81 The apparition induces Caesar to cross the small river Rubicon, but the consequences are far greater than imagined. The trumpet’s toll for the Roman people has been higher and gloomier than Caesar could anticipate.

CONCLUSIONS

Suetonius’ text has often been described as a collection of anecdotes, testimonies and personal, sometimes juicy, information about the first Roman emperors and their political predecessor, Julius Caesar. Suetonius’ Diuus Iulius offers a complex evaluation of Caesar’s character, emphasizing both his virtues and the vices and abuses of power that led to his death. Frequently, scholarship has interpreted episodes in Caesar’s life, as described by Suetonius, as positive evaluations of Caesar’s behaviour and his destiny as ‘ruler’ of Rome.Footnote 82 This interpretation, as we have seen, was often applied also to the apparition that prompted Caesar to cross the Rubicon and presented the Civil War as a decisive step towards the establishment of the Principate. This article has argued that Caesar’s apparition before the crossing is rendered much more ambivalent when read within a wider historical tradition of apparitions appearing in dreams before river-crossings that initiated crucial conflicts in Greek and Roman history.

The misleading dreams of Xerxes and Hannibal narrated in Herodotus and Livy, respectively, enable us to see that the message behind Caesar’s own apparition in Suetonius is more ambiguous than it appears. This reading of the episode also throws doubt on Suetonius’ view of the origins of the Principate. With knowledge of future events, the apparition at the Rubicon can be read as a sign of the demise of both Caesar and the res publica. Caesar’s victory in the Civil War is swiftly followed by his death at the hands of his friends, owing to his abuse of power, and by more civil conflict. This abuse of power not only links him back to Xerxes’ and Hannibal’s hybris, but also associates him with the last of Suetonius’ Caesars, Domitian.Footnote 83

It is true that Caesar crossing the Rubicon led to the establishment of the Augustan Principate. However, in the narrative universe of the Lives of the Caesars, Caesar’s decision to follow the apparition led to the tyranny of Domitian (and, before him, of Caligula and Nero). Nothing would have happened (it is implied) if Caesar had not crossed the Rubicon. Presenting Caesar as part of a non-Roman tradition shows clearly Suetonius’ intent to cast a gloomier and more ambiguous light upon the beginning of the Principate, calling into question Suetonius’ supposed blind support of it. This reading also associates Suetonius with a tradition of critical political thought about Caesar that developed a characterization of Caesar as Rome’s external enemy from Cicero up to Suetonius’ times.

This discussion not only offers a novel reading of this pivotal episode in Caesar’s biography, but also prompts us to re-evaluate the importance of intertextuality for understanding Suetonius’ text and to rethink current conceptions of Suetonius as a less engaged author. Once read in a wider historiographical context and tradition, Suetonius’ narrative of the Rubicon crossing contains signs of Caesar’s gamble leading to future destruction. The die may have been cast, but it kept on rolling. Caesar could not know where it would finally land. Suetonius and his readers did.

Footnotes

*

This article was first presented in Oxford in November 2022 as part of the Corpus Christi Classics Centre Seminar Series ‘The Invention of Tradition(s) in Roman Cultural History’, organized by Prof. Giuseppe Pezzini and Dr Domenico Giordani. I would like to thank the organizers for inviting me and the audience for the inspiring discussion that followed. In addition, I would like to thank in particular Dr Nicolas Wiater for the precious suggestions to improve this article. Thank you also to Dr Tom Geue, Prof. Myles Lavan, Dr Donncha O’ Rourke, Prof. Roy Gibson, Prof. Bruce Gibson and the anonymous reviewers for the constructive comments, as well as to Jess Farr-Cox for the editorial support. Thank you also to Prof. Luca Fezzi, who introduced me to Caesar and the Rubicon a long time ago.

References

1 A general comparative analysis of the different sources that discuss this moment can be found in A. Rondholz, ‘Crossing the Rubicon. A historiographical study’, Mnemosyne 62 (2009), 432–50 and L. Fezzi, “Il dado è tratto”: Cesare e la resa di Roma (Rome, 2017), 177–91.

2 Translations, unless otherwise stated, are my own. The OCT of R.A. Kaster (ed.), C. Suetoni Tranquilli De uita Caesarum libri VIII et De grammaticis et rhetoribus liber (Oxford, 2016), ad loc. (here used) emends est in the manuscripts to esto, following the Greek tradition. I left the more common est.

3 The etymological link between ostendere and ostentum (‘something that is shown’, i.e. ‘an apparition’) was strongly felt in antiquity; see Cic. Diu. 1.93 with D. Wardle, Cicero: On Divination Book 1. Translated with Introduction and Commentary (Oxford, 2006), ad loc., especially his quotation of the ‘definitions attributed to Suetonius’: ‘an ostentum shows itself to us without possessing a solid body and affects both our eyes and ears’ (A. Reifferscheid, C. Suetonii Tranquilli praeter Caesarum libros reliquiae [Leipzig, 1860], 284; transl. Wardle [this note]). This definition fits the apparition of the young man perfectly.

4 R.A. Tucker, ‘What actually happened at the Rubicon?’, Historia 37 (1988), 245–8; J. Beneker, ‘The crossing of the Rubicon and the outbreak of civil war in Cicero, Lucan, Plutarch, and Suetonius’, Phoenix 65 (2011), 74–99, at 85–9 and 93–6. Cf. also D. Wardle, Suetonius Life of Julius Caesar. Translated with Introduction and Historical Commentary (Oxford, 2025), ad loc.

5 Beneker (n. 4), 88.

6 Beneker (n. 4), 88.

7 Tucker (n. 4), 248.

8 D. Steiner, ‘Elephants crossing: Livy 21.28.5–29 and its intertexts’, MD 71 (2013), 75–101.

9 Hdt. 7.12–15; Livy 21.22; Steiner (n. 8), 89–94.

10 L. Hermann, ‘Le prodige du Rubicon’, REA 37 (1935), 435–7; N. Berti, ‘Il Rubicone, confine religioso e politico, e l’inizio della guerra civile tra Cesare e Pompeo’, Contributi dell’Istituto di Storia antica dell’Università del Sacro Cuore 13 (1987), 212–33, at 218; P. Bicknell and D. Nielsen, ‘Five cohorts against the world’, in C. Deroux (ed.), Studies in Latin Literature and Roman History IX (Brussels, 1998), 138–66, at 152–6; T.P. Wiseman, Roman Drama and Roman History (Exeter, 1998), 62–3; Rondholz (n. 1), 441–2; O. Devillers, ‘Le passage du Rubicon: un itinéraire de l’information’, in O. Devillers and S. Franchet d’Espèrey (edd.), Lucain en débat: rhétorique, poétique et histoire. Actes du colloque international, Institut Ausonius (Pessac, 12–14 juin 2008) (Paris, 2010), 303–12.

11 On the idea that Suetonius drew upon a Caesarian source, see J. Gascou, Suétone historien (Paris, 1984), 23; E. Peluzzi ‘“Turrigero … vertice”: la prosopopea della Patria in Lucano’, in P. Esposito and L. Nicastri (edd.), Interpretare Lucano: Miscellanea di studi (Quaderni del Dipartimento di Scienze dell’Antichità 22) (Naples, 1999), 127–55, at 139; Berti (n. 10), 218; E. Narducci, Lucano: un’epica contro l’impero: interpretazione della “Pharsalia” (Rome, 2002), 199. Bicknell and Nielsen (n. 10), 152–6 suggest that Caesar orchestrated the apparition to secure the support of the soldiers.

12 H.E. Butler and M. Cary (edd.), Suetonius. Divus Iulius (New York, 1927), ad loc.

13 See, for example, S. Audano, ‘Tito come Enea: un esempio di intertestualità virgiliana in Svetonio (Tit. 5, 3)’, GIF 73 (2021), 189–201; T. Power, ‘Poetry and fiction in Suetonius’ Illustrious Men’, in K. De Temmerman and K. Demoen (edd.), Writing Biography in Greece and Rome: Narrative Technique and Fictionalization (Cambridge, 2016), 217–39; T. Power, ‘Pyrrhus and Priam in Suetonius’ Tiberius’, CQ 62 (2012), 430–3; P. Roche, ‘Pliny and Suetonius on giving and returning imperial power’, in A. König and C. Whitton (edd.), Roman Literature under Nerva, Trajan and Hadrian: Literary Interactions, ad 96–138 (Cambridge, 2018), 146–59; D. MacRae, ‘Invitus invitam: a window allusion in Suetonius’ Titus’, CQ 65 (2015), 415–18.

14 On interdiscursivity, especially between Greek and Latin authors in the High Empire, see A. König, R. Langlands and J. Uden (edd.), Literature and Culture in the Roman Empire, 96–235: Cross-Cultural Interactions (Cambridge and New York, 2020). On intertextuality in historiography, see D. O’Rourke and A. Pelttari ‘Intertextuality’, in R. Gibson and C. Whitton (edd.), The Cambridge Critical Guide to Latin Literature (Cambridge, 2024), 208–71, at 235–8 and E.C. O’Gorman, ‘Intertextuality and historiography’, in A. Feldherr (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to the Roman Historians (Cambridge, 2009), 231–42.

15 A.M. Kemezis, ‘The romance of Republican history: narrative tension and resolution in Florus, Appian and Chariton’, in A. König, R. Langlands and J. Uden (edd.), Literature and Culture in the Roman Empire, 96–235: Cross-Cultural Interactions (Cambridge and New York, 2020), 114–33.

16 Owing to its biographical nature, Suetonius’ work on Caesar has mainly been analysed in comparison with Plutarch’s biography; see, for example, C. Pelling, ‘The first biographers: Plutarch and Suetonius’, in M. Griffin (ed.), A Companion to Julius Caesar (Oxford, 2009), 252–66. For a broader analysis of the relationship between the Diuus Iulius and other texts, see C. Martino, Suetonius and the Politics of Memory in the Roman Empire (Cambridge, forthcoming).

17 With the important exception of Tom Geue’s contribution on interdiscursivity in Suetonius and Justin (T. Geue, ‘Keeping/losing records, keeping/losing faith: Suetonius and Justin do the document’, in A. König, R. Langlands and J. Uden [edd.], Literature and Culture in the Roman Empire, 96–235: Cross-Cultural Interactions [Cambridge and New York, 2020], 203–22), Suetonius’ interaction with Greek literature has generally received little attention.

18 A. Wallace-Hadrill, Suetonius. The Scholar and his Caesars (London, 1983; repr. New Haven, 1995), 110.

19 Beneker (n. 4), 96.

20 An initial and fundamental literary re-evaluation of Suetonius’ engagement with his subjects can be found in T. Power and R.K. Gibson, Suetonius, the Biographer: Studies in Roman Lives (Oxford and New York, 2014) and T. Power, Collected Papers on Suetonius (London and New York, 2021). On the political engagement of Suetonius in the Diuus Iulius and its contribution to imperial memory culture, see Martino (n. 16); on the political re-evaluation of Suetonius in later Lives, see also J.F. Koltermann, ‘The uncanny afterlives of Augustus: reading across Suetonius’ Lives of the Caesars’, CQ 73 (2023), 328–43.

21 For example, Beneker (n. 4), 84 (on the outbreak of civil war); J.-L. Brandão and D. Leão, ‘Augustus by Suetonius: the man and the making of the god’, Phoenix 23 (2017), 158–85, at 161.

22 W.W. Batstone and C. Damon, Caesar’s Civil War (Oxford, 2006), 57 point out that Caesar did not want to draw attention to the crossing of the province’s legal boundary. Cf. Rondholz (n. 1), 434–5. On the political significance of rivers as borders, see N. Purcell, ‘Rivers and the geography of power’, Pallas 90 (2012), 373–87.

23 Livy, Per. 109; Flor. 2.13.19. Cf. Beneker (n. 4), 74; contra, Devillers (n. 10). J. Radicke, Lucans poetische Technik: Studien zum historischen Epos (Leiden and Boston, 2004), 172 argues that Lucan too was inspired by Livy’s version of the episode.

24 Oros. 6.15.2; Bicknell and Nielsen (n. 10), 150–1. Without the support of new information on Livy’s later books, however, it is difficult to attain certainty on the matter.

25 On Caesar in Velleius, see C. Pelling, ‘Velleius and biography: the case of Julius Caesar’, in E. Cowan (ed.), Velleius Paterculus: Making History (Swansea, 2011), 157–76; and B. England, ‘Caesar’s place in the course of Tiberian historiography’, in R. Raja and T. Arlund Hass (edd.), Caesar’s Past and Posterity’s Caesar (Turnhout, 2021), 81–93.

26 Cf. Plut. Vit. Pomp. 60. Cassius Dio’s Roman History does not mention the Rubicon, but emphasizes Caesar crossing the borders of his province (Cass. Dio 41.4).

27 On the passage, cf. D. O’Rourke, ‘Reading the flood in Latin literature: literary and cosmic symbolism’, in F. Cairns (ed.), Roman Poetry, Republican and Imperial, PLLS 18 (2021), 121–50, at 140–1.

28 On Lucan’s Patria and the narrative techniques used in the passage, see J. Masters, Poetry and Civil War in Lucan’s ‘Bellum Civile’ (Cambridge, 1992), 1–10; Narducci (n. 11), 194–207; Radicke (n. 23), 172–8; G. Moretti, ‘Patriae trepidantis imago. La personificazione di Roma nella Pharsalia fra ostentum e disseminazione allegorica’, Camenae 2 (2007), https://lettres.sorbonne-universite.fr/camenae-ndeg-2-juin-2007.

29 On the use of the Patria as a character, cf. Cicero’s famous speech in the Catilinarian orations (Cat. 1.18, 1.27–9). There are references in Rhet. Her. 4.53.66 about how Patria is one of the most common prosopopoeiae; cf. Narducci (n. 11), 196–8. Cf. also Quint. Inst. 9.2.29–33.

30 Luc. 1.201–3. Caesar’s claims in Lucan Book 1 will be deconstructed in the speech before Pharsalus (7.254–6), when Caesar presents the battle as the glorious day promised to him on the bank of the Rubicon. See Narducci (n. 11), 205.

31 Scholarship usually dates Plutarch’s Caesar to the second half of Trajan’s reign; cf. C. Pelling, Plutarch Caesar. Translated with Introduction and Commentary (Oxford and New York, 2011), 2. Appian’s is usually dated in the era of Antoninus Pius; see G.S. Bucher, ‘The origins, program, and composition of Appian’s Roman History’, TAPhA 130 (2000), 411–58. On Pollio as common source for Plutarch and Appian on the Rubicon, see C. Pelling, Plutarch and History: Eighteen Studies (London, 2002), 11–19; Rondholz (n. 1); Bicknell and Nielsen (n. 10).

32 Caesar, Plutarch informs us, used ‘those words that so often serve as a prelude for some incalculable risk or audacious enterprise’ (Plut. Vit. Caes. 32.8; transl. Pelling [n. 31 (2011)], ad loc.). Appian (B Ciu. 2.35.140) inverts the order of the words (ὁ κύβος ἀνερρίφθω), but maintains the use of the passive imperative of ἀναρρίπτω.

33 Appian has a slightly different version, in which Caesar ponders the consequences for himself if he does not cross, and for the world if he does (App. B Ciu. 2.35.140).

34 Plutarch’s narrative changes a little in the Life of Pompey, where Caesar hesitates on the bank of the river, but then is compared to someone who casts themselves into a yawning abyss and refuses to act according to reason or to be stalled by the perils of his upcoming action: Caesar decides to ignore both (Vit. Pomp. 60).

35 Rondholz (n. 1), 448.

36 On the rural and peaceful setting before the outbreak of the war at Iul. 32, see Rondholz (n. 1), 441–2.

37 Suetonius’ use of conuersus ad proximos … inquit on the banks of the Rubicon, however, may allude to the council of friends (I am grateful to the anonymous reviewer who pointed this out). Nevertheless, Suetonius’ focus remains on Caesar and his soldiers.

38 Notably, Plutarch inserts Caesar’s incestuous dream about his mother here (Vit. Caes. 32), which Suetonius reported during Caesar’s quaestorship in Spain in 69 b.c.e. (Iul. 7). The dream is instrumental in both narratives as foretelling Caesar’s future dominion of the entire world, often represented as a mother. C. Pelling, ‘Tragical dreamer: some dreams in the Roman historians’, G&R 44 (1997), 197–213, at 200–1 highlights the uncertainty of the dream in Plutarch in contrast to the positive interpretation in Suetonius. While I agree that Caesar’s attempts to seize power escalate after the dream, I find this view too optimistic. For more discussion on the passage, see Martino (n. 16).

39 Hdt. 7.6–7, 7.9.

40 Dreams in antiquity were divided into two main categories: future-telling or projecting someone’s thoughts. See Pelling (n. 38) with bibliography. The false evil dream was a common literary topos (cf. Hom. Il. 2.1–47, Zeus’s dream to Agamemnon); see Pelling (n. 38), 198–9.

41 There is a third dream in Herodotus (7.19), different in nature from the previous two, which supports Xerxes’ belief that the war will be a success. Scholarship has interpreted in various ways the misleading nature of Xerxes’ divine endorsement. See J.A.S. Evans, ‘The dream of Xerxes and the νόμοι of the Persians’, CJ 57 (1961), 109–11, at 110 and E. Baragwanath, Motivation and Narrative in Herodotus (Oxford and New York, 2008), 242–4, emphasizing the relationship between Xerxes’ leadership and the divine.

42 On Luc. 2.670–9, see E. Fantham, Lucan: De bello civili, Book II (Cambridge, 1992), ad loc. On the literary topos of visiting Troy’s ruins, cf. P. Borgeaud, ‘Trojan excursions: a recurrent ritual, from Xerxes to Julian’, History of Religions 49 (2009–10), 339–53.

43 On the link between the dream’s larger-than-life stature and the divine sphere, see H. Stein, Herodotos, erklärt von H. Stein. Vierter Band: Buch VII (Berlin, 19086), ad loc.: ‘The dream … in the service of a god [‘im Dienste einer Gottheit’] … takes on an impressive human shape [‘eine imponierende menschliche Gestalt’]’. The link, as Stein also points out, is made explicit shortly after in Herodotus’ text, at 7.15.

44 Baragwanath (n. 41), 249–50 on Xerxes.

45 See also R. Morstein-Marx, Julius Caesar and the Roman People (Cambridge, 2021), 328–9 on the appeal of boundary and river crossings to ancient historians, with reference to Xerxes’ bridging the Hellespont.

46 Cf. a similar conceptualization of Caesar’s victory in Sil. Pun. 13.867.

47 It is particularly interesting that Herodotus feels the need to specify that the story of the dream had a Persian origin (7.12 ὡς λέγεται ὑπὸ Περσέων), which may imply that the interpretation of the dreams and their divine endorsement of Xerxes’ invasion was originally more optimistic than what Herodotus clearly intended for his readers of the Histories.

48 On Xerxes’ image in ancient cultural memory, see E. Bridges, Imagining Xerxes: Ancient Perspectives on a Persian King (London and New York, 2015).

49 Cf. Pompey’s speech in App. B Ciu. 2.50.205–6. On the events, see Fezzi (n. 1), 201–7.

50 Cic. Att. 7.11.1 [SB 134] (21st January 49 b.c.e.?) utrum de imperatore populi Romani an de Hannibale loquimur? (‘are we speaking of a general of the Roman people or of Hannibal?’). On Hannibal in Cicero, cf. C. Stocks, The Roman Hannibal: Remembering the Enemy in Silius Italicus’ Punica (Liverpool, 2014), 22–4. On the close relationship between Suetonius and the Ciceronian tradition on Caesar, see Martino (n. 16).

51 On Hannibal in Roman culture, see Stocks (n. 50). On Hannibal in Nepos, see J.-F. Müller, S. Müller and T. Richter, ‘Die Hannibal-Tragödie des Cornelius Nepos’, AU 43.6 (2000), 49–60; in Valerius Maximus, see E. Valvo, ‘La rappresentazione di Annibale in Valerio Massimo’, Millennium 5 (2008), 37–55. On the Carthaginian exempla in Frontinus’ Strategemata, cf. A. König, ‘Reading civil war in Frontinus’s Strategemata: a case-study for Flavian literary studies’, in L.D. Ginsberg and D.A. Krasne (edd.), After 69 CE: Writing Civil War in Flavian Rome (Berlin and Boston), 145–77, at 168–72.

52 More on Silius’ Hannibal (with bibliography) below.

53 On Hercules (identified with the Punic Mel’qart) and Hannibal, cf. N. Wiater, ‘Hannibal was here: Hannibal’s stele between Hellenistic and Near-Eastern monumental practice’ (forthcoming); C. Bonnet, Melqart. Cultes et mythes de l’Héraclès tyrien en Méditerranée (Studia Phoenicia VIII) (Leuven, 1988). Hercules was a prominent deity in the Augustan culture, something that Livy’s readers would not have ignored. Cf. Prop. 4.9; Verg. Aen. 8.193–306; on Hercules in Augustan figurative art, see O. Hekster, ‘The constraints of tradition: depictions of Hercules in Augustus’ reign’, in L. Ruscu et al. (edd.), Orbis antiquus: Studia in honorem Ioannis Pisonis (Bibliotheca Musei Napocensis XXI) (Cluj-Napoca, 2004), 235–41.

54 On the same occasion, Caesar had the incestuous dream which foresaw his conquest of the entire world as discussed above (n. 38). Considering Hercules and Alexander as conquerors of the known world, I suggest that Suetonius’ choice to include it here instead of at the Rubicon (even if following a previous source) is more appropriate than Plutarch’s. Pelling (n. 38), 319 highlights the similarities with the dream of Hippias before Marathon (Hdt. 6.107).

55 The link between Alexander, Hannibal and Caesar is well established. See E. Giusti, Carthage in Virgil’s Aeneid: Staging the Enemy under Augustus (Cambridge, 2018), 181–2; G. Cipriani, L’Epifania di Annibale. Saggio introduttivo a Livio, Annales, XXI (Bari, 1984), 104–23; Devillers (n. 10). Hannibal will visit Gades in Silius’ Punica as well (3.1–60). However, in Silius’ version, Hannibal does not seek divine help himself; instead, he entrusts the task of obtaining divine endorsement to one of his men, Bostar. Bostar’s visit to the oracle of Ammon highlights parallels with both Alexander the Great and Julius Caesar (especially with Lucan’s Caesar): cf. B. Gibson, ‘Hannibal at Gades: Silius Italicus 3. 1–60’, PLLS 12 (2005), 177–95, at 187–93.

56 To these we shall add Luc. 1.205–12, where the poet compares Caesar with the Libyan lion, usually associated with Hannibal, during the crossing of the Rubicon. On Hannibal and Caesar in Lucan, cf. S.C. Tzounakas, ‘Caesar as hostis in Lucan’s De bello civili’, BStudLat 43 (2013), 510–25; Narducci (n. 11), 207–17; E. Karakasis, ‘Lucan’s intra/inter-textual poetics: deconstructing Caesar in Lucan’, in S. Harrison, S. Frangoulidis and T.D. Papanghelis (edd.), Intratextuality and Latin Literature (Berlin and Boston, 2018), 353–75, at 359–60. Radicke (n. 23), 175–6 argues that Caesar’s crossing as described by Lucan is based on Hannibal’s crossing of the Po at Livy 21.47.4–5.

57 The main point here is that the Senate did not flee when Hannibal approached, thus making Caesar a more dangerous enemy.

58 Petron. Sat. 122, lines 144–6, before Caesar’s crossing of the Alps: Alpibus aeriis, ubi Graio numine pulsae | descendunt rupes et se patiuntur adiri, | est locus Herculeis aris sacer (‘In the high Alps, where the rocks that were once hit by the [steps of] the Greek god, are sloping down, and concede to be approached, there is a place sacred to the Altars of Hercules’). P. Habermehl, ‘A poetical shipwreck?: Petronius’ Bellum civile and the tricky question: how to start a “civil war”?’, GIF 72 (2020), 223–47 and S. Poletti, ‘From the Rubicon to the Alps: re-reading Eumolpus’ Caesar in light of Silius Italicus’ Hannibal’, in A. Augoustakis and M. Fucecchi (edd.), Silius Italicus and the Tradition of the Roman Historical Epos (Leiden and Boston, 2022), 168–93 have pointed out that Hercules’ relationship with Caesar as represented in Petronius’ epic poem on the Civil War is ambiguous and makes explicit allusions to the memory of Hannibal. In Eumolpus’ poem, for example, Petronius decides to substitute the crossing of the Rubicon with the crossing of the Alps as the starting point of the Civil War, making the comparison between Caesar and Hannibal even more striking (Petron. Sat. 122–3, lines 141–85). Poletti (this note), 176–7 has also emphasized that Eumolpus’ lines are more ambiguous about Caesar than previously acknowledged: even the omina laeta (Sat. 122, line 178) Caesar receives from Apollo, after deciding to move war to his country, are imbued with ambivalence.

59 The crossing of the Ebro is completely absent in Polybius and, while Book 6 of Appian’s Punic Wars includes the crossing of the river, the dream is not mentioned.

60 Livy 21.22.6.

61 Livy 21.22.6. Specifically on Hannibal’s dream, see O. Devillers and V. Krings, ‘Le songe d’Hannibal: quelques réflexions sur la tradition littéraire’, Pallas 70 (2006), 337–46; I. D’Arco, ‘Il sogno premonitore di Annibale e il pericolo delle Alpi’, QS 28 (2002), 145–62; C. Vacanti, ‘Il sogno di Annibale’, Ὅρμος 9 (2007), 359–67; Pelling (n. 38), 203.

62 Livy 21.22.9. Cf. Cic. Diu. 1.49 and Val. Max. 1.7.ext.1 on the same episode.

63 Pelling (n. 38), 203.

64 Pelling (n. 38), 203–4. However, Livy’s decision to ascribe the anecdote to fama suggests the same ambiguity of Herodotus’ attribution to Persian history, but also does not assign it to any side. On the role of fama in Livy, see Giusti (n. 55), 178.

65 The construction is likely to be Ciceronian: cf. Cic. Cat. 1.12, 4.2; Sull. 33; Sest. 12 (on Catiline’s menace) and then Att. 9.10.3 [SB 177], written at the outbreak of the Civil War between Caesar and Pompey. Later, Cic. Fam. 10.33.1 [SB 401] (Pollio to Cicero), dated in June 43, on the aftermath of Mutina. After Cicero, cf. Sall. Iug. 5.2.3 and Tac. Hist. 1.50.10. Suetonius (Iul. 81) will describe the Triumviral Civil Wars as Italiae clades, in association with the omens related to Caesar’s death.

66 Cic. Diu. 1.49. On the relationship between Coelius Antipater and Livy, see D.S. Levene, Livy on the Hannibalic War (Oxford and New York, 2010), 126–35.

67 Vacanti (n. 61), 361. Similarly, Herodotus had specified that Xerxes’ story has a Persian origin (see n. 47 above). For Caesar’s account in Suetonius, scholarship has suggested that the apparition has a Caesarian origin too: see n. 11 above for bibliography.

68 On the date of composition of Silius’ Punica, see A. Augoustakis, ‘Silius Italicus, a Flavian poet’, in A. Augoustakis (ed.), Brill’s Companion to Silius Italicus (Leiden, 2010), 1–23 (with further bibliography).

69 A.J. Pomeroy, ‘To Silius through Livy and his predecessors’, in A. Augoustakis (ed.), Brill’s Companion to Silius Italicus (Leiden, 2010), 27–45; Poletti (n. 58), 174.

70 On Caesar’s behaviour after the Civil War, cf. Suet. Iul. 76–9.

71 Cf. D. Wardle, ‘Suetonius on the Civil Wars of the Late Republic’, in C.H. Lange and F.J. Vervaet (edd.), The Historiography of Late Republican Civil War (Leiden and Boston, 2019), 376–410.

72 Caesar’s attempts to seize power are built throughout Iul. 1–29 as a preamble to the Civil War. For full analysis of the chapters, Suetonius’ negative characterization of Caesar in relation to the Civil War, and Suetonius’ use of hostile sources, see Martino (n. 16).

73 Suetonius’ use of inimicus reflects Caesar’s own speech to the soldiers before the start of the Civil War at Caes. BCiu. 1.7 here (iniurias inimicorum). Cf. Wardle (n. 4), ad loc.

74 When Lucan’s Caesar blames Pompey for making him a hostis (1.203 ille … qui me tibi fecerit hostem), he ultimately associates the title with himself.

75 Beneker (n. 4), 84.

76 Luc. 1.33, 1.37: ‘But if Fate could not find any other path for the future arrival of Nero … then, Gods, we have no more complaints’. Petronius echoes the concept in Eumolpus’ poem (Sat. 120, lines 67–99).

77 C. Connors, Petronius the Poet: Verse and Literary Tradition in the Satyricon (Cambridge, 1998), 105.

78 On Caesar’s role in the Trajanic era, see J. Geiger, ‘Zum Bild Julius Caesars in der römischen Kaiserzeit’, Historia 24 (1975), 444–53 and J. Geiger, ‘The first emperor? Augustus and Julius Caesar as rival founders of the Principate’, in P.J. Goodman (ed.), Afterlives of Augustus, AD 14–2014 (Cambridge, 2018), 74–86. On Caesar, Domitian and Trajan in Suetonius’ work, see Martino (n. 16).

79 R. Gibson, ‘Not dark yet: reading to the end of Pliny’s nine-book collection’, in I. Marchesi (ed.), Pliny the Book-Maker: Betting on Posterity in the Epistles (Oxford and New York, 2015), 185–222, at 216–17. The bridge on the Danube (cf. RIC 2 Trajan 570) was built by Apollodorus of Damascus and later destroyed by Hadrian: cf. Cass. Dio 68.13.

80 Gibson (n. 79), 217.

81 On Caesar and Trajan in Suetonius, cf. Martino (n. 16).

82 Contra, J.M. Madsen, ‘Between dynast and legitimate monarch: imperial reflections of Julius Caesar’, in R. Raja and T. Arlund Hass (edd.), Caesar’s Past and Posterity’s Caesar (Turnhout, 2021), 111–26 and Morstein-Marx (n. 45). Both Madsen and Morstein-Marx argue for a tyrannical description of Caesar in the Diuus Iulius, but even this view is too simplistic.

83 Beneker (n. 4), 94–5 argues for a parallel between Caesar (Iul. 76) and Domitian (Dom. 14.1), and highlights similar reasons behind the conspiracies that killed them, without elaborating on the implication that this parallel has within Suetonius’ text. More in Martino (n. 16).