Life of Cicero by Anthony Trollope (page 3)

his life.

We have now come to the first of those episodes, and I have to tell the way in which Cicero struggled with Verres, and how he conquered him. In 74 B.C. Verres was Praetor in Rome. At that period of the Republic there were eight Praetors elected annually, two of whom remained in the city, whereas the others were employed abroad, generally with the armies of the Empire. In the next year, 73 B.C., Verres went in due course to Sicily with proconsular or propraetorial authority, having the government assigned to him for twelve months. This was usual and constitutional, but it was not unusual, even if unconstitutional, that this period should be prolonged. In the case of Verres it was prolonged, so that he should hold the office for three years. He had gone through the other offices of the State, having been Quaestor in Asia and Aedile afterward in Rome, to the great misfortune of all who were subjected to his handling, as we shall learn by-and-by. The facts are mentioned here to show that the great offices of the Republic were open to such a man as Verres. They were in fact more open to such a candidate than they would be to one less iniquitous–to an honest man or a scrupulous one, or to one partially honest, or not altogether unscrupulous. If you send a dog into a wood to get truffles, you will endeavor to find one that will tear up as many truffles as possible. A proconsular robber did not rob only for himself; he robbed more or less for all Rome. Verres boasted that with his three years of rule he could bring enough home to bribe all the judges, secure all the best advocates, and live in splendid opulence for the rest of his life. What a dog he was to send into a wood for truffles!

To such a condition as this had Rome fallen when the deputies from Sicily came to complain of their late governor, and to obtain the services of Cicero in seeking for whatever reparation might be possible. Verres had carried on his plunder during the years 73, 72, 71 B.C. During this time Cicero had been engaged sedulously as an advocate in Rome. We know the names of some of the cases in which he was engaged–those, for instance, for Publius Oppius, who, having been Quaestor in Bithynia, was accused by his Proconsul of having endeavored to rob the soldiers of their dues. We are told that the poor province suffered greatly under these two officers, who were always quarrelling as to a division of their plunder. In this case the senior officer accused the younger, and the younger, by Cicero’s aid, was acquitted. Quintilian more than once refers to the speech made for Oppius. Cicero also defended Varenus, who was charged with having murdered his brother, and one Caius Mustius, of whom we only know that he was a farmer of taxes. He was advocate also for Sthenius, a Sicilian, who was accused before the Tribunes by Verres. We shall hear of Sthenius again among the victims in Sicily. The special charge in this case was that, having been condemned by Verres as Praetor in Sicily, he had run away to Rome, which was illegal. He was, however, acquitted. Of these speeches we have only some short fragments, which have been quoted by authors whose works have come down to us, such as Quintilian; by which we know, at any rate, that Cicero’s writings had been so far carefully preserved, and that they were commonly read in those days. I will translate here the concluding words of a short paper written by M. du Rozoir in reference to Cicero’s life at this period: “The assiduity of our orator at the bar had obtained for him a high degree of favor among the people, because they had seen how strictly he had observed that Cincian law which forbade advocates to take either money or presents for then pleadings–which law, however, the advocates of the day generally did not scruple to neglect.”[97] It is a good thing to be honest when honesty is in vogue; but to be honest when honesty is out of fashion is magnificent.

In the affair with Verres, there are two matters to interest the reader–indeed, to instruct the reader–if the story were sufficiently well told. The iniquity of Verres is the first–which is of so extravagant a nature as to become farcical by the absurdity of the extent to which he was not afraid to go in the furtherance of his avarice and lust. As the victims suffered two thousand years ago, we can allow ourselves to be amused by the inexhaustible fertility of the man’s resources and the singular iniquity of his schemes. Then we are brought face to face with the barefaced corruption of the Roman judges–a corruption which, however, became a regular trade, if not ennobled, made, at any rate, aristocratic by the birth, wealth high names, and senatorial rank of the robbers. Sulla, for certain State purposes–which consisted in the maintenance of the oligarchy–had transferred the privileges of sitting on the judgment-seat from the Equites, or Knights, to the Senators. From among the latter a considerable number–thirty, perhaps, or forty, or even fifty–were appointed to sit with the Praetor to hear criminal cases of importance, and by their votes, which were recorded on tablets, the accused person was acquitted or condemned. To be acquitted by the most profuse corruption entailed no disgrace on him who was tried, and often but little on the judges who tried him. In Cicero’s time the practice, with all its chances, had come to be well understood. The Provincial Governors, with their Quaestors and lieutenants, were chosen from the high aristocracy, which also supplied the judges. The judges themselves had been employed, or hoped to be employed, in similar lucrative service. The leading advocates belonged to the same class. If the proconsular thief, when he had made his bag, would divide the spoil with some semblance of equity among his brethren, nothing could be more convenient. The provinces were so large, and the Greek spirit of commercial enterprise which prevailed in them so lively, that there was room for plunder ample, at any rate, for a generation or two. The Republic boasted that, in its love of pure justice, it had provided by certain laws for the protection of its allied subjects against any possible faults of administration on the part of its own officers. If any injury were done to a province, or a city, or even to an individual, the province, or city, or individual could bring its grievance to the ivory chair of the Praetor in Rome and demand redress; and there had been cases not a few in which a delinquent officer had been condemned to banishment. Much, indeed, was necessary before the scheme as it was found to exist by Verres could work itself into perfection. Verres felt that in his time everything had been done for security as well as splendor. He would have all the great officers of State on his side. The Sicilians, if he could manage the case as he thought it might be managed, would not have a leg to stand upon. There was many a trick within his power before they could succeed in making good even their standing before the Praetor. It was in this condition of things that Cicero bethought himself that he might at one blow break through the corruption of the judgment-seat, and this he determined to do by subjecting the judges to the light of public opinion. If Verres could be tried under a bushel, as it were, in the dark, as many others had been tried, so that little or nothing should be said about the trial in the city at large, then there would be no danger for the judges. It could only be by shaming them, by making them understand that Rome would become too hot to hold them, that they could be brought to give a verdict against the accused. This it was that Cicero determined to effect, and did effect. And we see throughout the whole pleadings that he was concerned in the matter not only for the Sicilians, or against Verres. Could something be done for the sake of Rome, for the sake of the Republic, to redeem the courts of justice from the obloquy which was attached to them? Might it be possible for a man so to address himself not only to the judgment-seat, but to all Rome, as to do away with this iniquity once and forever? Could he so fill the minds of the citizens generally with horror at such proceedings as to make them earnest in demanding reform? Hortensius, the great advocate of the day, was not only engaged on behalf of Verres, but he was already chosen as Consul for the next year. Metellus, who was elected Praetor for the next year, was hot in defence of Verres. Indeed, there were three Metelluses among the friends of the accused, who had also on his side the Scipio of the day. The aristocracy of Rome was altogether on the side of Verres, as was natural. But if Cicero might succeed at all in this which he meditated, the very greatness of his opponents would help him. When it was known that he was to be pitted against Hortensius as an advocate, and that he intended to defy Hortensius as the coming Consul, then surely Rome would be awake to the occasion; and if Rome could be made to awake herself, then would this beautiful scheme of wealth from provincial plunder be brought to an end.

I will first speak of the work of the judges, and of the attempts made to hinder Cicero in the business he had undertaken. Then I will endeavor to tell something of the story of Verres and his doings. The subject divides itself naturally in this way. There are extant seven so-called orations about Verres, of which the two first apply to the manner in which the case should be brought before the courts. These two were really spoken, and were so effective that Verres–or probably Hortensius, on his behalf–was frightened into silence. Verres pleaded guilty, as we should say, which, in accordance with the usages of the court, he was enabled to do by retiring and going into voluntary banishment. This he did, sooner than stand his ground and listen to the narration of his iniquities as it would be given by Cicero in the full speech–the “perpetua oratio”–which would follow the examination of the witnesses. “What the orator said before the examination of the witnesses was very short. He had to husband his time, as it was a part of the grand scheme of Hortensius to get adjournment after adjournment because of certain sacred rites and games, during the celebration of which the courts could not sit. All this was arranged for in the scheme; but Cicero, in order that he might baffle the schemers, got through his preliminary work as quickly as possible, saying all that he had to say about the manner of the trial, about the judges, about the scheme, but dilating very little on the iniquities of the criminal. But having thus succeeded, having gained his cause in a great measure by the unexpected quickness of his operations, then he told his story. Then was made that “perpetua oratio” by which we have learned the extent to which a Roman governor could go on desolating a people who were intrusted to his protection. This full narration is divided into five parts, each devoted to a separate class of iniquity. These were never spoken, though they appear in the form of speeches. They would have been spoken, if required, in answer to the defence made by Hortensius on behalf of Verres after the hearing of the evidence. But the defence broke down altogether, in the fashion thus described by Cicero himself. “In that one hour in which I spoke”–this was the speech which we designate as the Actio Prima contra Verrem, the first pleading made against Verres, to which we shall come just now–“I took away all hope of bribing the judges from the accused–from this brazen-faced, rich, dissolute, and abandoned man. On the first day of the trial, on the mere calling of the names of the witnesses, the people of Rome were able to perceive that if this criminal were absolved, then there could be no chance for the Republic. On the second day his friends and advocates had not only lost all hope of gaining their cause, but all relish for going on with it. The third day so paralyzed the man himself that he had to bethink himself not what sort of reply he could make, but how he could escape the necessity of replying by pretending to be ill.”[98] It was in this way that the trial was brought to an end.

But we must go back to the beginning. When an accusation was to be made against some great Roman of the day on account of illegal public misdoings, as was to be made now against Verres, the conduct of the case, which would require probably great labor and expense, and would give scope for the display of oratorical excellence, was regarded as a task in which a young aspirant to public favor might obtain honor and by which he might make himself known to the people. It had, therefore, come to pass that there might be two or more accusers anxious to undertake the work, and to show themselves off as solicitous on behalf of injured innocence, or desirous of laboring in the service of the Republic. When this was the case, a court of judges was called upon to decide whether this man or that other was most fit to perform the work in hand. Such a trial was called “Divinatio,” because the judges had to get their lights in the matter as best they could without the assistance of witnesses–by some process of divination–with the aid of the gods, as it might be. Cicero’s first speech in the matter of Verres is called In Quintum Caecilium Divinatio, because one Caecilius came forward to take the case away from him. Here was a part of the scheme laid by Hortensius. To deal with Cicero in such a matter would no doubt be awkward. His purpose, his diligence, his skill, his eloquence, his honesty were known. There must be a trial. So much was acknowledged; but if the conduct of it could be relegated to a man who was dishonest, or who had no skill, no fitness, no special desire for success, then the little scheme could be carried through in that way. So Caecilius was put forward as Cicero’s competitor, and our first speech is that made by Cicero to prove his own superiority to that of his rival.

Whether Caecilius was or was not hired to break down in his assumed duty as accuser, we do not know. The biographers have agreed to say that such was the case,[99] grounding their assertion, no doubt, on extreme probability. But I doubt whether there is any evidence as to this. Cicero himself brings this accusation, but not in that direct manner which he would have used had he been able to prove it. The Sicilians, at any rate, said that it was so. As to the incompetency of the man, there was probably no doubt, and it might be quite as serviceable to have an incompetent as a dishonest accuser. Caecilius himself had declared that no one could be so fit as himself for the work. He knew Sicily well, having been born there. He had been Quaestor there with Verres, and had been able to watch the governor’s doings. No doubt there was–or had been in more pious days–a feeling that a Quaestor should never turn against the Proconsul under whom he had served, and to whom he had held the position almost of a son.[100]

But there was less of that feeling now than heretofore. Verres had quarrelled with his Quaestor. Oppius was called on to defend himself against the Proconsul with whom he had served. No one could know the doings of the governor of a province as well as his own Quaestor; and, therefore, so said Caecilius, he would be the preferable accuser. As to his hatred of the man, there could be no doubt as to that. Everybody knew that they had quarrelled. The purpose, no doubt, was to give some colorable excuse to the judges for rescuing Verres, the great paymaster, from the fangs of Cicero.

Cicero’s speech on the occasion–which, as speeches went in those days, was very short–is a model of sagacity and courage. He had to plead his own fitness, the unfitness of his adversary, and the wishes in the matter of the Sicilians. This had to be done with no halting phrases. It was not simply his object to convince a body of honest men that, with the view of getting at the truth, he would be the better advocate of the two. We may imagine that there was not a judge there, not a Roman present, who was not well aware of that before the orator began. It was needed that the absurdity of the comparison between them should be declared so loudly that the judges would not dare to betray the Sicilians, and to liberate the accused, by choosing the incompetent man. When Cicero rose to speak, there was probably not one of them of his own party, not a Consul, a Praetor, an Aedile, or a Quaestor, not a judge, not a Senator, not a hanger-on about the courts, but was anxious that Verres with his plunder should escape. Their hope of living upon the wealth of the provinces hung upon it. But if he could speak winged words–words that should fly all over Rome, that might fly also among subject nations–then would the judges not dare to carry out this portion of the scheme.

“When,” he says, “I had served as Quaestor in Sicily, and had left the province after such a fashion that all the Sicilians had a grateful memory of my authority there, though they had older friends on whom they relied much, they felt that I might be a bulwark to them in their need. These Sicilians, harassed and robbed, have now come to me in public bodies, and have implored me to undertake their defence. ‘The time has come,’ they say, ‘not that I should look after the interest of this or that man, but that I should protect the very life and well-being of the whole province.’ I am inclined by my sense of duty, by the faith which I owe them, by my pity for them, by the example of all good Romans before me, by the custom of the Republic, by the old constitution, to undertake this task, not as pertaining to my own interests, but to those of my close friends.”[101] That was his own reason for undertaking the case. Then he reminds the judges of what the Roman people wished–the people who had felt with dismay the injury inflicted upon them by Sulla’s withdrawal of all power from the Tribunes, and by the putting the whole authority of the bench into the hands of the Senators. “The Roman people, much as they have been made to suffer, regret nothing of that they have lost so much as the strength and majesty of the old judges. It is with the desire of having them back that they demand for the Tribunes their former power. It is this misconduct of the present judges that has caused them to ask for another class of men for the judgment-seat. By the fault and to the shame of the judges of to-day, the Censor’s authority, which has hitherto always been regarded as odious and stern, even that is now requested by the people.”[102] Then he goes on to show that, if justice is intended, this case will be put into the hands of him whom the Sicilians have themselves chosen. Had the Sicilians said that they were unwilling to trust their affairs to Caecilius because they had not known him, but were willing to trust him, Cicero, whom they did know, would not even that have been reasonable enough of itself? But the Sicilians had known both of them, had known Caecilius almost as well as Cicero, and had expressed themselves clearly. Much as they desired to have Cicero, they were as anxious not to have Caecilius. Even had they held their tongues about this, everybody would have known it; but they had been far from holding their tongues. “Yet you offer yourself to these most unwilling clients,” he says, turning to Caecilius. “Yet you are ready to plead in a cause that does not belong to you! Yet you would defend those who would rather have no defender than such a one as you!”[103] Then he attacks Hortensius, the advocate for Verres. “Let him not think that, if I am to be employed here, the judges can be bribed without infinite danger to all concerned. In undertaking this cause of the Sicilians, I undertake also the cause of the people of Rome at large. It is not only that one wretched sinner should be crushed, which is what the Sicilians want, but that this terrible injustice should be stopped altogether, in compliance with the wishes of the people.”[104] When we remember how this was spoken, in the presence of those very judges, in the presence of Hortensius himself, in reliance only on the public opinion which he was to create by his own words, we cannot but acknowledge that it is very fine.

After that he again turns upon Caecilius. “Learn from me,” he says, “how many things are expected from him who undertakes the accusation of another. If there be one of those qualities in you, I will give up to you all that you ask.”[105] Caecilius was probably even now in alliance with Verres. He himself, when Quaestor, had robbed the people in the collection of the corn dues, and was unable therefore to include that matter in his accusation. “You can bring no charge against him on this head, lest it be seen that you were a partner with him in the business.”[106]

He ridicules him as to his personal insufficiency. “What, Caecilius! as to those practices of the profession without which an action such as this cannot be carried on, do you think that there is nothing in them? Need there be no skill in the business, no habit of speaking, no familiarity with the Forum, with the judgment-seats, and the laws?”[107] “I know well how difficult the ground is. Let me advise you to look into yourself, and to see whether you are able to do that kind of thing. Have you got voice for it, prudence, memory, wit? Are you able to expose the life of Verres, as it must be done, to divide it into parts and make everything clear? In doing all this, though nature should have assisted you”–as it has not at all, is of course implied–“if from your earliest childhood you had been imbued with letters; if you had learned Greek at Athens instead of at Lilybaeum–Latin in Rome instead of in Sicily–still would it not be a task beyond your strength to undertake such a case, so widely thought of, to complete it by your industry, and then to grasp it in your memory; to make it plain by your eloquence, and to support it with voice and strength sufficient? ‘Have I these gifts,’ you will ask. Would that I had! But from my childhood I have done all that I could to attain them.”[108]

Cicero makes his points so well that I would fain go through the whole speech, were it not that a similar reason might induce me to give abridgments of all his speeches. It may not be that the readers of these orations will always sympathize with the orator in the matter which he has in hand–though his power over words is so great as to carry the reader with him very generally, even at this distance of time–but the neatness with which the weapon is used, the effectiveness of the thrust for the purpose intended, the certainty with which the nail is hit on the head–never with an expenditure of unnecessary force, but always with the exact strength wanted for the purpose–these are the characteristics of Cicero’s speeches which carry the reader on with a delight which he will want to share with others, as a man when he has heard a good story instantly wishes to tell it again. And with Cicero we are charmed by the modernness, by the tone of to-day, which his language takes. The rapid way in which he runs from scorn to pity, from pity to anger, from anger to public zeal, and then instantly to irony and ridicule, implies a lightness of touch which, not unreasonably, surprises us as having endured for so many hundred years. That poetry should remain to us, even lines so vapid as some of those in which Ovid sung of love, seems to be more natural, because verses, though they be light, must have been labored. But these words spoken by Cicero seem almost to ring in our ears as having come to us direct from a man’s lips. We see the anger gathering on the brow of Hortensius, followed by a look of acknowledged defeat. We see the startled attention of the judges as they began to feel that in this case they must depart from their intended purpose. We can understand how Caecilius cowered, and found consolation in being relieved from his task. We can fancy how Verres suffered–Verres whom no shame could have touched–when all his bribes were becoming inefficient under the hands of the orator.

Cicero was chosen for the task, and then the real work began. The work as he did it was certainly beyond the strength of any ordinary advocate. It was necessary that he should proceed to Sicily to obtain the evidence which was to be collected over the whole island. He must rate up, too, all the previous details of the life of this robber. He must be thoroughly prepared to meet the schemers on every point. He asked for a hundred and ten days for the purpose of getting up his case, but he took only fifty. We must imagine that, as he became more thoroughly versed in the intrigues of his adversaries, new lights came upon him. Were he to use the whole time allotted to him, or even half the time, and then make such an exposition of the criminal as he would delight to do were he to indulge himself with that “perpetua oratio” of which we hear, then the trial would be protracted till the coming of certain public games, during which the courts would not sit. There seem to have been three sets of games in his way–a special set for this year, to be given by Pompey, which were to last fifteen days; then the Ludi Romani, which were continued for nine days. Soon after that would come the games in honor of Victory–so soon that an adjournment over them would be obtained as a matter of course. In this way the trial would be thrown over into the next year, when Hortensius and one Metellus would be Consuls, and another Metellus would be the Praetor, controlling the judgment-seats.

Glabrio was the Praetor for this present year. In Glabrio Cicero could put some trust. With Hortensius and the two Metelluses in power, Verres would be as good as acquitted. Cicero, therefore, had to be on the alert, so that in this unexpected way, by sacrificing his own grand opportunity for a speech, he might conquer the schemers. We hear how he went to Sicily in a little boat from an unknown port, so as to escape the dangers contrived for him by the friends of Verres.[109] If it could be arranged that the clever advocate should be kidnapped by a pirate, what a pleasant way would that be of putting an end to these abominable reforms! Let them get rid of Cicero, if only for a time, and the plunder might still be divided. Against all this he had to provide. When in Sicily he travelled sometimes on foot, for the sake of caution–never with the retinue to which he was entitled as a Roman senator. As a Roman senator he might have demanded free entertainment at any town he entered, at great cost to the town. But from all this he abstained, and hurried back to Rome with his evidence so quickly that he was able to produce it before the judges, so as to save the adjournments which he feared.

Verres retired from the trial, pleading guilty, after hearing the evidence. Of the witness, and of the manner in which they told the story, we have no account. The second speech which we have–the Divinatio, or speech against Caecilius, having been the first–is called the Actio Prima contra Verrem–“the first process against Verres.” This is almost entirely confined to an exhortation to the judges. Cicero had made up his mind to make no speech about Verres till after the trial should be over. There would not be the requisite time. The evidence he must bring forward. And he would so appall these corrupt judges that they should not dare to acquit the accused. This Actio Prima contains the words in which he did appall the judges. As we read them, we pity the judges. There were fourteen, whose names we know. That there may have been many more is probable. There was the Praetor Urbanus of the day, Glabrio. With him were Metellus, one of the Praetors for the next year, and Caesonius, who, with Cicero himself, was Aedile designate. There were three Tribunes of the people and two military Tribunes. There was a Servilius, a Catulus, a Marcellus. Whom among these he suspected can hardly say. Certainly he suspected Metellus. To Servilius[110] he paid an ornate compliment in one of the written orations published after the trial was over, from whence we may suppose that he was well inclined toward him. Of Glabrio he spoke well. The body, as a body, was of such a nature that he found it necessary to appall them. It is thus that he begins: “Not by human wisdom, O ye judges, but by chance, and by the aid, as it were, of the gods themselves, an event has come to pass by which the hatred now felt for your order, and the infamy attached to the judgment seat, may be appeased; for an opinion has gone abroad, disgraceful to the Republic, full of danger to yourselves–which is in the mouths of all men not only here in Rome but through all nations–that by these courts as they are now constituted, a man, if he be only rich enough, will never be condemned, though he be ever so guilty.” What an exordium with which to begin a forensic pleading before a bench of judges composed of Praetors, Aediles, and coming Consuls! And this at a time, too, when men’s minds were still full of Sulla’s power; when some were thinking that they too might be Sullas; while the idea was still strong that a few nobles ought to rule the Roman Empire for their own advantage and their own luxury! What words to address to a Metellus, a Catulus, and a Marcellus! I have brought before you such a wretch, he goes on to say, that by a just judgment upon him you can recover your favor with the people of Rome, and your credit with other nations. “This is a trial in which you, indeed, will have to judge this man who is accused, but in which also the Roman people will have to judge you. By what is done to him will be determined whether a man who is guilty, and at the same time rich, can possibly be condemned in Rome.[111]If the matter goes amiss here, all men will declare, not that better men should be selected out of your order, which would be impossible, but that another order of citizens must be named from which to select the judges.”[112] This short speech was made. The witnesses were examined during nine days; then Hortensius, with hardly a struggle at a reply, gave way, and Verres stood condemned by his own verdict.

When the trial was over, and Verres had consented to go into exile, and to pay whatever fine was demanded, the “perpetua oratio” which Cicero thought good to make on the matter was published to the world. It is written as though it was to have been spoken, with counterfeit tricks of oratory–with some tricks so well done in the first part of it as to have made one think that, when these special words were prepared, he must have intended to speak them. It has been agreed, however, that such was not the case. It consists of a narration of the villainies of Verres, and is divided into what have been called five different speeches, to which the following appellations are given: De Praetura Urbana, in which we are told what Verres did when he was city Praetor, and very many things also which he did before he came to that office, De Jurisdictione Siciliensi, in which is described his conduct as a Roman magistrate on the island; De Re Frumentaria, setting forth the abomination of his exactions in regard to the corn tax; De Signis, detailing the robberies he perpetuated in regard to statues and other ornaments; and De Suppliciis, giving an account of the murders he committed and the tortures he inflicted. A question is sometimes mooted in conversation whether or no the general happiness of the world has been improved by increasing civilization When the reader finds from these stories, as told by a leading Roman of the day, how men were treated under the Roman oligarchy–not only Greek allies but Romans also–I think he will be inclined to answer the question in favour of civilization.

I can only give a few of the many little histories which have been preserved for us in this Actio Secunda; but perhaps these few may suffice to show how a great Roman officer could demean himself in his government. Of the doings of Verres before he went to Sicily I will select two. It became his duty on one occasion–a job which he seems to have sought for purpose of rapine–to go to Lampsacus, a town in Asia, as lieutenant, or legate, for Dolabella, who then had command in Asia. Lampsacus was on the Hellespont, an allied town of specially good repute. Here he is put up as a guest, with all the honors of a Roman officer, at the house of a citizen named Janitor. But he heard that another citizen, one Philodamus, had a beautiful daughter–an article with which we must suppose that Janitor was not equally well supplied. Verres, determined to get at the lady, orders that his creature Rubrius shall be quartered at the house of Philodamus. Philodamus, who from his rank was entitled to be burdened only with the presence of leading Romans, grumbles at this; but, having grumbled, consents, and having consented, does the best to make his house comfortable. He gives a great supper, at which the Romans eat and drink, and purposely create a tumult. Verres, we understand, was not there. The intention is that the girl shall be carried away and brought to him. In the middle of their cups the father is desired to produce his daughter; but this he refuses to do. Rubrius then orders the doors to be closed, and proceeds to ransack the house. Philodamus, who will not stand this, fetches his son, and calls his fellow-citizens around him. Rubrius succeeds in pouring boiling water over his host, but in the row the Romans get the worst of it. At last one of Verres’s lictors–absolutely a Roman lictor–is killed, and the woman is not carried off. The man at least bore the outward signs of a lictor, but, according to Cicero, was in the pay of Verres as his pimp.

So far Verres fails; and the reader, rejoicing at the courage of the father who could protect his own house even against Romans, begins to feel some surprise that this case should have been selected. So far the lieutenant had not done the mischief he had intended, but he soon avenges his failure. He induces Dolabella, his chief, to have Philodamus and his son carried off to Laodicea, and there tried before Nero, the then Proconsul, for killing the sham lictor. They are tried at Laodicea before Nero, Verres himself sitting as one of the judges, and are condemned. Then in the market place of the town, in the presence of each other, the father and son are beheaded–a thing, as Cicero says, very sad for all Asia to behold. All this had been done some years ago; and, nevertheless, Verres had been chosen Praetor, and sent to Sicily to govern the Sicilians.

When Verres was Praetor at Rome–the year before he was sent to Sicily–it became his duty, or rather privilege, as he found it, to see that a certain temple of Castor in the city was given up in proper condition by the executors of a defunct citizen who had taken a contract for keeping it in repair. This man, whose name had been Junius, left a son, who was a Junius also under age, with a large fortune in charge of various trustees, tutors, as they were called, whose duty it was to protect the heir’s interests. Verres, knowing of old that no property was so easily preyed on as that of a minor, sees at once that something may be done with the temple of Castor. The heir took oath, and to the extent of his property he was bound to keep the edifice in good repair. But Verres, when he made an inspection, finds everything to be in more than usually good order. There is not a scratch on the roof of which he can make use. Nothing has been allowed to go astray. Then “one of his dogs”–for he had boasted to his friend Ligur that he always went about with dogs to search out his game for him–suggested that some of the columns were out of the perpendicular. Verres does not know what this means; but the dog explains. All columns are, in fact, by strict measurement, more or less out of the perpendicular, as we are told that all eyes squint a little, though we do not see that they squint. But as columns ought to be perpendicular, here was a matter on which he might go to work. He does go to work. The trustees knowing their man–knowing also that in the present condition of Rome it was impossible to escape from an unjust Praetor without paying largely–went to his mistress and endeavored to settle the matter with her. Here we have an amusing picture of the way in which the affairs of the city were carried on in that lady’s establishment; how she had her levee, took her bribes, and drove a lucrative trade. Doing, however, no good with her, the trustees settled with an agent to pay Verres two hundred thousand sesterces to drop the affair. This was something under L2000. But Verres repudiated the arrangement with scorn. He could do much better than that with such a temple and such a minor. He puts the repairs up to auction; and refusing a bid from the trustees themselves–the very persons who are the most interested in getting the work done, if there were work to do–has it knocked down to himself for five hundred and sixty thousand sesterces, or about L5000.[113] Then we are told how he had the pretended work done by the putting up of a rough crane. No real work is done, no new stones are brought, no money is spent. That is the way in which Verres filled his office as Praetor Urbanus; but it does not seem that any public notice is taken of his iniquities as long as he confined himself to little jobs such as this.

Then we come to the affairs of Sicily–and the long list of robberies is commenced by which that province was made desolate. It seems that nothing gave so grand a scope to the greed of a public functionary who was at the same time governor and judge as disputed wills. It was not necessary that any of the persons concerned should dispute the will among them. Given the facts that a man had died and left property behind him, then Verres would find means to drag the heir into court, and either frighten him into payment of a bribe or else rob him of his inheritance. Before he left Rome for the province he heard that a large fortune had been left to one Dio on condition that he should put up certain statues in the market-place.[114] It was not uncommon for a man to desire the reputation of adorning his own city, but to choose that the expense should be borne by his heir rather than by himself. Failing to put up the statues, the heir was required to pay a fine to Venus Erycina–to enrich, that is, the worship of that goddess, who had a favorite temple under Mount Eryx. The statues had been duly erected. But, nevertheless, here there was an opening. So Verres goes to work, and in the name of Venus brings an action against Dio. The verdict is given, not in favor of Venus but in favor of Verres.

This manner of paying honor to the gods, and especially to Venus, was common in Sicily. Two sons[115] received a fortune from their father, with a condition that, if some special thing were not done, a fine should be paid to Venus. The man had been dead twenty years ago. But “the dogs” which the Praetor kept were very sharp, and, distant as was the time, found out the clause. Action is taken against the two sons, who indeed gain their case; but they gain it by a bribe so enormous that they are ruined men. There was one Heraclius,[116] the son of Hiero, a nobleman of Syracuse, who received a legacy amounting to 3,000,000 sesterces–we will say L24,000–from a relative, also a Heraclius. He had, too, a house full of handsome silver plate, silk and hangings, and valuable slaves. A man, “Dives equom, dives pictai vestis et auri.” Verres heard, of course. He had by this time taken some Sicilian dogs into his service, men of Syracuse, and had learned from them that there was a clause in the will of the elder Heraclius that certain statues should be put up in the gymnasium of the city. They undertake to bring forward servants of the gymnasium who should say that the statues were never properly erected. Cicero tells us how Verres went to work, now in this court, now in that, breaking all the laws as to Sicilian jurisdiction, but still proceeding under the pretence of law, till he got everything out of the wretch–not only all the legacies from Heraclius, but every shilling, and every article left to the man by his father. There is a pretence of giving some of the money to the town of Syracuse; but for himself he takes all the valuables, the Corinthian vases, the purple hangings, what slaves he chooses. Then everything else is sold by auction. How he divided the spoil with the Syracusans, and then quarrelled with them, and how he lied as to the share taken by himself, will all be found in Cicero’s narrative. Heraclius was of course ruined. For the stories of Epicrates and Sopater I must refer the reader to the oration. In that of Sopater there is the peculiarity that Verres managed to get paid by everybody all round.

The story of Sthenius is so interesting that I cannot pass it by. Sthenius was a man of wealth and high standing, living at Therma in Sicily, with whom Verres often took up his abode; for, as governor, he travelled much about the island, always in pursuit of plunder. Sthenius had had his house full of beautiful things. Of all these Verres possessed himself–some by begging, some by demanding, and some by absolute robbery. Sthenius, grieved as he was to find himself pillaged, bore all this. The man was Roman Praetor, and injuries such as these had to be endured. At Therma, however, in the public place of the city, there were some beautiful statues. For these Verres longed, and desired his host to get them for him.

Sthenius declared that this was impossible. The statues had, under peculiar circumstances, been recovered by Scipio Africanus from Carthage, and been restored by the Roman General to the Sicilians, from whom they had been taken, and had been erected at Therma. There was a peculiarly beautiful figure of Stesichorus, the poet, as an old man bent double, with a book in his hand–a very glorious work of art; and there was a goat–in bronze probably–as to which Cicero is at the pains of telling us that even he, unskilled as he was in such matters, could see its charms. No one had sharper eyes for such pretty ornaments than Cicero, or a more decided taste for them. But as Hortensius, his rival and opponent in this case, had taken a marble sphinx from Verres, he thought it expedient to show how superior he was to such matters. There was probably something of joke in this, as his predilections would no doubt be known to those he was addressing.[117]

In the matter Sthenius was incorruptible, and not even the Praetor could carry them away without his aid. Cicero, who is very warm in praise of Sthenius, declares that “here at last Verres had found one town, the only one in the world, from which he was unable to carry away something of the public property by force, or stealth, or open command, or favor.”[118]

The governor was so disgusted with this that he abandoned Sthenius, leaving the house which he had plundered of everything, and betook himself to that of one Agathinus, who had a beautiful daughter, Callidama, who, with her husband, Dorotheus, lived with her father They were enemies of Sthenius, and we are given to understand that Verres ingratiated himself with them partly for the sake of Callidama, who seems very quickly to have been given up to him,[119] and partly that he might instigate them to bring actions against Sthenius. This is done with great success; so that Sthenius is forced to run away, and betake himself, winter as it was, across the seas to Rome. It has already been told that when he was at Rome an action was brought against him by Verres for having run away when he was under judgment, in which Cicero defended him, and in which he was acquitted. In the teeth of his acquittal, Verres persecuted the man by every form of law which came to his hands as Praetor, but always in opposition to the law. There is an audacity about the man’s proceedings, in his open contempt of the laws which it was his special duty to carry out, making us feel how confident he was that he could carry everything before him in Rome by means of his money. By robbery and concealing his robberies, by selling his judgments in such a way that he should maintain some reticence by ordinary precaution, he might have made much money, as other governors had done. But he resolved that it would pay him better to rob everywhere openly, and then, when the day of reckoning came, to buy the judges wholesale. As to shame at such doings, there was no such feelings left among Romans.

Before he comes to the story of Sthenius, Cicero makes a grandly ironical appeal to the bench before him: “Yes, O judges, keep this man; keep him in the State! Spare him, preserve him so that he, too, may sit with us as a judge here so that he, too, may, with impartiality, advise us, as a Senator, what may be best for us as to peace and war! Not that we need trouble ourselves as to his senatorial duties. His authority would be nothing. When would he dare, or when would he care, to come among us? Unless it might be in the idle month of February, when would a man so idle, so debauched, show himself in the Senate-house? Let him come and show himself. Let him advise us to attack the Cretans; to pronounce the Greeks of Byzantium free; to declare Ptolemy King.[120] Let him speak and vote as Hortensius may direct. This will have but little effect upon our lives or our property. But beyond this there is something we must look to; something that would be distrusted; something that every good man has to fear! If by chance this man should escape out of our hands, he would have to sit there upon that bench and be a judge. He would be called upon to pronounce on the lives of a Roman citizen. He would be the right-hand officer in the army of this man here,[121] of this man who is striving to be the lord and ruler of our judgment-seats. The people of Rome at least refuse this! This at least cannot be endured!”

The third of these narratives tells us how Verres managed in his province that provision of corn for the use of Rome, the collection of which made the possession of Sicily so important to the Romans. He begins with telling his readers–as he does too frequently–how great and peculiar is the task he has undertaken; and he uses an argument of which we cannot but admit the truth, though we doubt whether any modern advocate would dare to put it forward. We must remember, however, that Romans were not accustomed to be shamefaced in praising themselves. What Cicero says of himself all others said also of themselves; only Cicero could say it better than others. He reminds us that he who accuses another of any crime is bound to be especially free from that crime himself. “Would you charge any one as a thief? you must be clear from any suspicion of even desiring another man’s property. Have you brought a man up for malice or cruelty? take care that you be not found hard-hearted. Have you called a man a seducer or an adulterer? be sure that your own life shows no trace of such vices. Whatever you would punish in another, that you must avoid yourself. A public accuser would be intolerable, or even a caviller, who should inveigh against sins for which he himself is called in question. But in this man I find all wickednesses combined. There is no lust, no iniquity, no shamelessness of which his life does not supply with ample evidence.” The nature of the difficulty to which Cicero is thus subjected is visible enough. As Verres is all that is bad, so must he, as accuser, be all that is good; which is more, we should say, than any man would choose to declare of himself! But he is equal to the occasion. “In regard to this man, O judges, I lay down for myself the law as I have stated it. I must so live that I must clearly seem to be, and always have been, the very opposite of this man, not only in my words and deeds, but as to that arrogance and impudence which you see in him.” Then he shows how opposite he is to Verres at any rate, in impudence! “I am not sorry to see,” he goes on to say, “that that life which has always been the life of my own choosing, has now been made a necessity to me by the law which I have laid down for myself.”[122] Mr. Pecksniff spoke of himself in the same way, but no one, I think, believed him. Cicero probably was believed. But the most wonderful thing is, that his manner of life justified what he said of himself. When others of his own order were abandoned to lust, iniquity, and shamelessness, he lived in purity, with clean hands, doing good as far as was in his power to those around him. A laugh will be raised at his expense in regard to that assertion of his that, even in the matter of arrogance, his conduct should be the opposite of that of Verres. But this will come because I have failed to interpret accurately the meaning of those words, “oris oculorumque illa contumacia ac superbia quam videtis.” Verres, as we can understand, had carried himself during the trial with a bragging, brazen, bold face, determined to show no shame as to his own doings. It is in this, which was a matter of manner and taste, that Cicero declares that he will be the man’s opposite as well as in conduct. As to the ordinary boastings, by which it has to be acknowledged that Cicero sometimes disgusts his readers, it will be impossible for us to receive a just idea of his character without remembering that it was the custom of a Roman to boast. We wait to have good things said of us, or are supposed to wait. The Roman said them of himself. The “veni, vidi, vici” was the ordinary mode of expression in those times, and in earlier times among the Greeks.[123] This is distasteful to us; and it will probably be distasteful to those who come after us, two or three hundred years hence, that this or that British statesman should have made himself an Earl or a Knight of the Garter. Now it is thought by many to be proper enough. It will shock men in future days that great peers or rich commoners should have bargained for ribbons and lieutenancies and titles. Now it is the way of the time. Though virtue and vice may be said to remain the same from all time to all time, the latitudes allowed and the deviations encouraged in this or the other age must be considered before the character of a man can be discovered. The boastings of Cicero have been preserved for us. We have to bethink ourselves that his words are 2000 years old. There is such a touch of humanity in them, such a feeling of latter-day civilization and almost of Christianity, that we are apt to condemn what remains in them of paganism, as though they were uttered yesterday. When we come to the coarseness of his attacks, his descriptions of Piso by-and-by, his abuse of Gabinius, and his invectives against Antony; when we read his altered opinions, as shown in the period of Caesar’s dominion, his flattery of Caesar when in power, and his exultations when Caesar has been killed; when we find that he could be coarse in his language and a bully, and servile–for it has all to be admitted–we have to reflect under what circumstances, under what surroundings, and for what object were used the words which displease us. Speaking before the full court at this trial, he dared to say he knew how to live as a man and to carry himself as a gentleman. As men and gentlemen were then, he was justified.

The description of Verres’s rapacity in regard to the corn tax is long and complex, and need hardly be followed at length, unless by those who desire to know how the iniquity of such a one could make the most of an imposition which was in itself very bad, and pile up the burden till the poor province was unable to bear it. There were three kinds of imposition as to corn. The first, called the “decumanum,” was simply a tithe.

The producers through the island had to furnish Rome with a tenth of their produce, and it was the Praetor’s duty, or rather that of the Quaestor under the Praetor, to see that the tithe was collected. How Verres saw to this himself, and how he treated the Sicilian husbandmen in regard to the tithe, is so told that we are obliged to give the man credit for an infinite fertility of resources. Then there is the “emptum,” or corn bought for the use of Rome, of which there were two kinds. A second tithe had to be furnished at a price fixed by the Roman Senate, which price was considered to be below that of its real value, and then 800,000 bushels were purchased, or nominally purchased, at a price which was also fixed by the Senate, but which was nearer to the real value. Three sesterces a bushel for the first and four for the last, were the prices fixed at this time. For making these payments vast sums of money were remitted to Verres, of which the accounts were so kept that it was hard to say whether any found its way into the hands of the farmers who undoubtedly furnished the corn. The third corn tax was the “aestimatum”. This consisted of a certain fixed quantity which had to be supplied to the Praetor for the use of his governmental establishment–to be supplied either in grain or in money. What such a one as Verres would do with his, the reader may conceive.

All this was of vital importance to Rome. Sicily and Africa were the granaries from which Rome was supplied with its bread. To get supplies from a province was necessary. Rich men have servants in order that they may live at ease themselves. So it was with the Romans to whom the provinces acted as servants. It was necessary to have a sharp agent, some Proconsul or Propraetor; but when there came one so sharp as Verres, all power of recreating supplies would for a time be destroyed. Even Cicero boasted that in a time of great scarcity, he, being then Quaestor in Sicily, had sent extraordinary store of corn over to the city.[124] But he had so done it as to satisfy all who were concerned.

Verres, in his corn dealings with the Sicilians, had a certain friend, companion, and minister–one of his favorite dogs, perhaps we may call him–named Apronius, whom Cicero specially describes. The description I must give, because it is so powerful; because it shows us how one man could in those days speak of another in open court before all the world; because it affords us an instance of the intensity of hatred which the orator could throw into his words; but I must hide it in the original language, as I could not translate it without offence.”[125]

Then we have a book devoted to the special pillage of statues and other ornaments, which, for the genius displayed in story-telling, is perhaps of all the Verrine orations the most amusing. The Greek people had become in a peculiar way devoted to what we generally call Art. We are much given to the collecting of pictures, china, bronze, and marbles, partly from love of such things, partly from pride in ornamenting our houses so as to excite the admiration of others, partly from a feeling that money so invested is not badly placed with a view to future returns. All these feelings operated with the Greeks to a much greater extent. Investments in consols and railway shares were not open to them. Money they used to lend at usury, no doubt, but with a great chance of losing it. The Greek colonists were industrious, were covetous, and prudent. From this it had come to pass that, as they made their way about the world–to the cities which they established round the Mediterranean–they collected in their new homes great store of ornamental wealth. This was done with much profusion at Syracuse, a Greek city in Sicily, and spread from them over the whole island. The temples of the gods were filled with the works of the great Greek artists, and every man of note had his gallery. That Verres, hog as he is described to have been, had a passion for these things, is manifest to us. He came to his death at last in defence of some favorite images. He had returned to Rome by means of Caesar’s amnesty, and Marc Antony had him murdered because he would not surrender some treasures of art. When we read the De Signis–About Statues–we are led to imagine that the search after these things was the chief object of the man throughout his three years of office–as we have before been made to suppose that all his mind and time had been devoted to the cheating of the Sicilians in the matter of corn. But though Verres loved these trinkets, it was not altogether for himself that he sought them. Only one third of his plunder was for himself. Senators, judges, advocates, Consuls, and Praetors could be bribed with articles of _vertu_ as well as with money.

There are eleven separate stories told of these robberies. I will give very shortly the details of one or two. There was one Marcus Heius, a rich citizen of Messana, in whose house Verres took great delight. Messana itself was very useful to him, and the Mamertines, as the people of Messana were called were his best friends in all Sicily: for he made Messana the depot of his plunder, and there he caused to be built at the expense of the Government an enormous ship called the _Cybea_,[126] in which his treasures were carried out of the island. He therefore specially favored Messana, and the district of Messana was supposed to have been scourged by him with lighter rods than those used elsewhere in Sicily. But this man Heius had a chapel, very sacred, in which were preserved four specially beautiful images. There was a Cupid by Praxiteles, and a bronze Hercules by Myro, and two Canoephrae by Polycletus These were treasures which all the world came to see, and which were open to be seen by all the world. These Verres took away, and caused accounts to be forged in which it was made to appear that he had bought them for trifling sums. It seems that some forced assent had been obtained from Heius as to the transaction. Now there was a plan in vogue for making things pleasant for a Proconsul retiring from his government, in accordance with which a deputation would proceed from the province to Rome to declare how well and kindly the Proconsul had behaved in his government. The allies, even when they had been, as it were, skinned alive by their governor, were constrained to send their deputations. Deputations were got up in Sicily from Messana and Syracuse, and with the others from Messana came this man Heius. Heius did not wish to tell about his statues; but he was asked questions, and was forced to answer. Cicero informs us how it all took place. “He was a man,” he said–this is what Cicero tells us that Heius said–“who was well esteemed in his own country, and would wish you”–you judges–“to think well of his religious spirit and of his personal dignity. He had come here to praise Verres because he had been required to do so by his fellow-citizens. He, however, had never kept things for sale in his own house; and had he been left to himself, nothing would have induced him to part with the sacred images which had been left to him by his ancestors as the ornaments of his own chapel.[127]

Nevertheless, he had come to praise Verres, and would have held his tongue had it been possible.”

Cicero finishes his catalogue by telling us of the manifold robberies committed by Verres in Syracuse, especially from the temples of the gods; and he begins his account of the Syracusan iniquities by drawing a parallel between two Romans whose names were well known in that city: Marcellus, who had besieged it as an enemy and taken it, and Verres, who had been sent to govern it in peace. Marcellus had saved the lives of the Syracusans; Verres had made the Forum to run with their blood. The harbor which had held its own against Marcellus, as we may read in our Livy, had been wilfully opened by Verres to Cilician pirates. This Syracuse which had been so carefully preserved by its Roman conqueror the most beautiful of all the Greek cities on the face of the earth–so beautiful that Marcellus had spared to it all its public ornaments–had been stripped bare by Verres. There was the temple of Minerva from which he had taken all the pictures. There were doors to this temple of such beauty that books had been written about them. He stripped the ivory ornaments from them, and the golden balls with which they had been made splendid. He tore off from them the head of the Gorgon and carried it away, leaving them to be rude doors, Goth that he was!

And he took the Sappho from the Prytaneum, the work of Silanion! a thing of such beauty that no other man can have the like of it in his own private house; yet Verres has it–a man hardly fit to carry such a work of art as a burden, not possess it as a treasure of his own. “What, too!” he says, “have you not stolen Paean from the temple of Aesculapius–a statue so remarkable for its beauty, so well-known for the worship attached to it, that all the world has been wont to visit it? What! has not the image of Aristaeus been taken by you from the temple of Bacchus? Have you not even stolen the statue of Jupiter Imperator, so sacred in the eyes of all men–that Jupiter which the Greeks call Ourios? You have not hesitated to rob the temple of Proserpine of the lovely head in Parian marble.”[128] Then Cicero speaks of the worship due to all these gods as though he himself believed in their godhead. As he had begun this chapter with the Mamertines of Messana, so he ends it with an address to them. “It is well that you should come, you alone out of all the provinces, and praise Verres here in Rome. But what can you say for him? Was it not your duty to have built a ship for the Republic? You have built none such, but have constructed a huge private transport-vessel for Verres. Have you not been exempted from your tax on corn? Have you not been exempted in regard to naval and military recruits? Have you not been the receptacle of all his stolen goods? They will have to confess, these Mamertines, that many a ship laden with his spoils has left their port, and especially this huge transport-ship which they built for him!”

In the De Suppliciis–the treatise about punishments, as the last division of this process is called–Cicero tells the world how Verres exacted vengeance from those who were opposed to him, and with what horrid cruelty he raged against his enemies. The stories, indeed, are very dreadful. It is harrowing to think that so evil a man should have been invested with powers so great for so bad a purpose. But that which strikes a modern reader most is the sanctity attached to the name of a Roman citizen, and the audacity with which the Roman Proconsul disregarded that sanctity. “Cives Romanus” is Cicero’s cry from the beginning to the end. No doubt he is addressing himself to Romans, and seeking popularity, as he always did. But, nevertheless, the demands made upon the outside world at large by the glory of that appellation are astonishing, even when put forward on such an occasion as this. One Gavius escapes from a prison in Syracuse, and, making his way to Messana, foolishly boasts that he would be soon over in Italy, out of the way of Praetor Verres and his cruelties. Verres, unfortunately, is in Messana, and soon hears from some of his friends, the Mamertines, what Gavius was saying. He at once orders Gavius to be flogged in public. “Cives Romanus sum!” exclaims Gavius, no doubt truly. It suits Verres to pretend to disbelieve this, and to declare that the man is a runagate slave. The poor wretch still cries “Cives Romanus!” and trusts alone to that appeal. Whereupon Verres puts up a cross on the sea-shore, and has the man crucified in sight of Italy, so that he shall be able to see the country of which he is so proud. Whether he had done anything to deserve crucifixion, or flogging, or punishment at all, we are not told. The accusation against Verres is not for crucifying the man, but for crucifying the Roman. It is on this occasion that Cicero uses the words which have become proverbial as to the iniquity of this proceeding.[129] During the telling of this story he explains this doctrine, claiming for the Roman citizen, all the world over, some such protection as freemasons are supposed to give each other, whether known or unknown. “Men of straw,” he says, “of no special birth, go about the world. They resort to places they have never seen before, where they know none, and none know them. Here, trusting to their claim solely, they feel themselves to be safe–not only where our magistrates are to be found, who are bound both by law and by opinion, not only among other Roman citizens who speak their language and follow the same customs, but abroad, over the whole world, they find this to be sufficient protection.”[130] Then he goes on to say that if any Praetor may at his will put aside this sanctity, all the provinces, all the kingdoms, all the free states, all the world abroad, will very soon lose the feeling.

But the most remarkable story is that told of a certain pirate captain. Verres had been remiss in regard to the pirates–very cowardly, indeed, if we are to believe Cicero. Piracy in the Mediterranean was at that time a terrible drawback to trade–that piracy that a year or two afterward Pompey was effectual in destroying. A governor in Sicily had, among other special duties, to keep a sharp lookout for the pirates. This Verres omitted so entirely that these scourges of the sea soon learned that they might do almost as they pleased on the Sicilian coasts. But it came to pass that on one day a pirate vessel fell by accident into the hands of the governor’s officers. It was not taken, Cicero says, but was so overladen that it was picked up almost sinking.[131] It was found to be full of fine, handsome men, of silver both plated and coined, and precious stuffs. Though not “taken,” it was “found,” and carried into Syracuse. Syracuse is full of the news, and the first demand is that the pirates, according to Roman custom, shall all be killed. But this does not suit Verres. The slave-markets of the Roman Empire are open, and there are men among the pirates whom it will suit him better to sell than to kill. There are six musicians, “symphoniacos homines,” whom he sends as a present to a friend at Rome. But the people of Syracuse are very much in earnest. They are too sharp to be put off with pretences, and they count the number of slaughtered pirates. There are only some useless, weak, ugly old fellows beheaded from day to day; and being well aware how many men it must have taken to row and manage such a vessel, they demand that the full crew shall be brought to the block. “There is nothing in victory more sweet,” says Cicero, “no evidence more sure, than to see those whom you did fear, but have now got the better of, brought out to tortures or death.”[132] Verres is so much frightened by the resolution of the citizens that he docs not dare to neglect their wishes. There are lying in the prisons of Syracuse a lot of prisoners, Roman citizens, of whom he is glad to rid himself. He has them brought out, with their heads wrapped up so that they shall not be known, and has them beheaded instead of the pirates! A great deal is said, too, about the pirate captain–the arch-pirate, as he is called. There seems to have been some money dealings personally between him and Verres, on account of which Verres kept him hidden. At any rate, the arch-pirate was saved. “In such a manner this celebrated victory is managed.[133] The pirate ship is taken, and the chief pirate is allowed to escape. The musicians are sent to Rome. The men who are good-looking and young are taken to the Praetor’s house. As many Roman citizens as will fill their places are carried out as public enemies, and are tortured and killed! All the gold and silver and precious stuffs are made a prize of by Verres!”

Such are the accusations brought against this wonderful man–the truth of which has, I think, on the whole been admitted. The picture of Roman life which it displays is wonderful, that such atrocities should have been possible; and equally so of provincial subjection, that such cruelties should have been endured. But in it all the greatest wonder is that there should have risen up a man so determined to take the part of the weak against the strong with no reward before him, apparently with no other prospect than that of making himself odious to the party to which he belonged. Cicero was not a Gracchus, anxious to throw himself into the arms of the people; he was an oligarch by conviction, born to oligarchy, bred to it, convinced that by it alone could the Roman Republic be preserved. But he was convinced also that unless these oligarchs could be made to do their duty the Republic could not stand. Therefore it was that he dared to defy his own brethren, and to make the acquittal of Verres an impossibility. I should be inclined to think that the day on which Hortensius threw up the sponge, and Verres submitted to banishment and fine, was the happiest in the orator’s life. Verres was made to pay a fine which was very insufficient for his crimes, and then to retire into comfortable exile. From this he returned to Rome when the Roman exiles were amnestied, and was shortly afterward murdered by Antony, as has been told before.

Notes:

[97] M. du Rozoir was a French critic, and was joined with M. Gueroult and M. de Guerle in translating and annotating the Orations of Cicero for M. Pauckoucke’s edition of the Latin classics.

[98] In Verrem Actio Secunda, lib.i., vii.

[99] Plutarch says that Caecilius was an emancipated slave, and a Jew, which could not have been true, as he was a Roman Senator.

[100] De Oratore, lib.ii., c.xlix. The feeling is beautifully expressed in the words put into the mouth of Antony in the discussion on the charms and attributes of eloquence: “Qui mihi in liberum loco more majorum esse deberet.”

[101] In Q. Caec. Divinatio, ca.ii.

[102] Divinatio, ca.iii.

[103] Ibid., ca.vi.

[104] Ibid., ca.viii.

[105] Divinatio, ca.ix.

[106] Ibid., ca.xi.

[107] Ibid.

[108] Ibid., ca.xii.

[109] Actio Secunda, lib. ii., xl. He is speaking of Sthenius, and the illegality of certain proceedings on the part of Verres against him. “If an accused man could be condemned in the absence of the accuser, do you think that I would have gone in a little boat from Vibo to Vella, among all the dangers prepared for me by your fugitive slaves and pirates, when I had to hurry at the peril of my life, knowing that you would escape if I were not present to the day?”

[110] Actio Secunda, I. xxi.

[111] In Verrem, Actio Prima, xvi.

[112] In Verrem, Actio Prima, xvi.

[113] We are to understand that the purchaser at the auction having named the sum for which he would do the work, the estate of the minor, who was responsible for the condition of the temple, was saddled with that amount.

[114] In Verrem, Actio Secunda, lib.ii., vii.

[115] Ibid, ix.

[116] Ibid., lib.ii., xiv.

[117] See Appendix C.

[118] In Verrem, Actio Secunde, lib. ii., ca. xxxvi.

[119] Ibid. “Una nox intercesserat, quam iste Dorotheum sic diligebat, ut diceres, omnia inter eos esse communia.”–wife and all. “Iste” always means Verres in these narratives.

[120] These were burning political questions of the moment. It was as though an advocate of our days should desire some disgraced member of Parliament to go down to the House and assist the Government in protecting Turkey in Asia and invading Zululand.

[121] “Sit in ejus exercitu signifer.” The “ejus” was Hortensius, the coming Consul, too whom Cicero intended to be considered as pointing. For the passage, see In Verrem, Actio Secunda, lib.ii., xxxi.

[122] In Verrem, Actio Secunda, lib.iii., II.

[123] “Exegi monumentum aere perennius,” said Horace, gloriously. “Sum pius Aeneas” is Virgil’s expression, put into the mouth of his hero. “Ipse Menaleas,” said Virgil himself. Homer and Sophocles introduce their heroes with self-sounded trumpetings:

[Greek: _Eiae Odysseus Daertiadaes os pasi doloisi Anthropoisi melo, kai meu kleos ouranon ikei_.] Odyssey, book ix., 19 and 20.

[Greek: _Ho pasi kleinos Oidipous kaloumenos_.] Oedipus Tyrannus, 8.

[124] Pro Plancio, xxvi.: “Fumenti in summa caritate maximum numerum miseram; negotiatoribus comis, mercatoribus justus, municipibus liberalis, sociis abstinens, omnibus eram visus in omni officio diligentissimus.”

[125] In Verrem, Actio Secunda, lib. iii., ix.: “is erit Apronius ille; qui, ut ipse non solum vita, sed etiam corpore atque ore significat, immensa aliqua vorago est ac gurges vitiorum turpitudinumque omnium. Hunc in omnibus stupris, hunc in fanorum expilationibus, hunc in impuris conviviis principera adhibebat; tantamque habebat morum similitudo conjuncnorum atque concordiam, ut Apronius, qui aliis inhumanus ac barbarus, isti uni commodus ac disertus videretur; ut quem omnes odissent neque videre vellent sine eo iste esse non posset; ut quum alii ne conviviis quidem iisdem quibus Apronius, hic iisdem etiam poculis uteretur, postremo, ut, odor Apronii teterrimus oris et corporis, quem, ut aiunt, ne bestiae quidem ferre possent, uni isti suavis et jucundus videretur. Ille erat in tribunali proximus; in cubiculo socius; in convivio dominus, ac tum maxime, quum, accubante praetextato praetoris filio, in convivio saltare nudus coeperat”.

[126] A great deal is said of the _Cybea_ in this and the last speech. The money expended on it was passed through the accounts as though the ship had been built for the defence of the island from pirates, but it was intended solely for the depository of the governor’s plunder.

[127] In Verrem, Actio Secunda, lib.iv., vii.

[128] In Verrem, Actio Secunda, lib.iv., lvii.

[129] In Verrem, Actio Secunda, lib.v., lxvi.: “Facinus est vinciri civem Romanum; scelus verberari; prope parricidium necari; quid dicam in crucem!”

[130] In Verrem, Actio Secunda, lib.v., lxv.

[131] In Verrem, Actio Secunda, lib.v., xx.: “Onere suo plane captam atque depressam.”

[132] In Verrem, Actio Secunda, lib.v., xxvi.

[133] Ibid., xxviii.

CHAPTER VII.

CICERO AS AEDILE AND PRAETOR.

[Sidenote: B.C. 69, _aetat_. 38.]

The year after the trial of Verres was that of Cicero’s Aedileship. We know but little of him in the performance of the duties of this office, but we may gather that he performed them to the satisfaction of the people. He did not spend much money for their amusements, although it was the custom of Aediles to ruin themselves in seeking popularity after this fashion; and yet when, two years afterward, he solicited the Praetorship from the people, he was three times elected as first Praetor in all the comitia–three separate elections having been rendered necessary by certain irregularities and factious difficulties. To all the offices, one after another, he was elected in his first year–the first year possible in accordance with his age–and was elected first in honor, the first as Praetor, and then the first as Consul. This, no doubt, was partly due to his compliance with those rules for canvassing which his brother Quintus is said to have drawn out, and which I have quoted; but it proves also the trust which was felt in him by the people. The candidates, for the most part, were the candidates for the aristocracy. They were put forward with the idea that thus might the aristocratic rule of Rome be best maintained. Their elections were carried on by bribery, and the people were for the most part indifferent to the proceeding. Whether it might be a Verres, or an Antony, or a Hortensius, they took the money that was going. They allowed themselves to be delighted with the games, and they did as they were bid. But every now and then there came up a name which stirred them, and they went to the voting pens–ovilia–with a purpose of their own. When such a candidate came forward, he was sure to be first. Such had been Marius, and such had been the great Pompey, and such was Cicero. The two former were men successful in war, who gained the voices of the people by their victories. Cicero gained them by what he did inside the city. He could afford not to run into debt and ruin himself during his Aedileship, as had been common with Aediles, because he was able to achieve his popularity in another way. It was the chief duty of the Aediles to look after the town generally–to see to the temples of the gods, to take care that houses did not tumble down, to look to the cleansing of the streets, and to the supply of water. The markets were under them, and the police, and the recurrent festivals. An active man, with common-sense, such as was Cicero, no doubt did his duty as Aedile well.

He kept up his practice as an advocate during his years of office. We have left to us the part of one speech and the whole of another spoken during this period. The former was in favor of Fonteius, whom the Gauls prosecuted for plundering them as Propraetor, and the latter is a civil case on behalf of Caecina, addressed to the “Recuperatores,” as had been that for Marcus Tullius. The speech for Fonteius is remarkable as being as hard against the provincial Gauls as his speech against Verres had been favorable to the Sicilians. But the Gauls were barbarians, whereas the Sicilians were Greeks. And it should be always remembered that Cicero spoke as an advocate, and that the praise and censure of an advocate require to be taken with many grains of salt. Nothing that these wretched Gauls could say against a Roman citizen ought to be accepted in evidence! “All the Romans,” he says, “who have been in the province wish well to Fonteius. Would you rather believe these Gauls–led by what feeling? By the opinion of men! Is the opinion, then, of your enemies of greater weight than that of your fellow-citizens, or is it the greater credibility of the witnesses? Would you prefer, then, unknown men to known–dishonest men to honest–foreigners to your own countrymen–greedy men to those who come before you for nothing–men of no religion to those who fear the gods–those who hate the Empire and the name of Rome to allies and citizens who are good and faithful?”[134] In every word of this he begs the question so as to convince us that his own case was weak; and when he makes a final appeal to the pity of the judges we are sure that Fonteius was guilty. He tells the judges that the poor mother of the accused man has no other support than this son, and that there is a sister, one of the virgins devoted to the service of Vesta, who, being a vestal virgin, cannot have sons of her own, and is therefore entitled to have her brother preserved for her. When we read such arguments as these, we are sure that Fonteius had misused the Gauls. We believe that he was acquitted, because we are told that he bought a house in Rome soon afterward; but we feel that he escaped by the too great influence of his advocate. We are driven to doubt whether the power over words which may be achieved by a man by means of natural gifts, practice, and erudition, may not do evil instead of good. A man with such a tongue as that of Cicero will make the listener believe almost whatever he will; and the advocate is restrained by no horror of falsehood. In his profession alone it is considered honorable to be a bulwark to deception, and to make the worse appear the better cause. Cicero did so when the occasion seemed to him to require it, and has been accused of hypocrisy in consequence. There is a passage in one of the dialogues, De Oratore, which has been continually quoted against him because the word “fibs” has been used with approval. The orator is told how it may become him to garnish his good story with little white lies–“mendaciunculis.”[135] The advice does not indeed refer to facts, or to evidence, or to arguments. It goes no farther than to suggest that amount of exaggeration which is used by every teller of a good story in order that the story may be good. Such “mendaciuncula” are in the mouth of every diner-out in London, and we may pity the dinner-parties at which they are not used. Reference is made to them now because the use of the word by Cicero, having been misunderstood by some who have treated his name with severity, has been brought forward in proof of his falsehood. You shall tell a story about a very little man, and say that he is only thirty-six inches. You know very well that he is more than four feet high. That will be a “mendaciunculum,” according to Cicero. The phrase has been passed on from one enemy to another, till the little fibs of Cicero’s recommending have been supposed to be direct lies suggested by him to all advocates, and therefore continually used by him as an advocate. They have been only the garnishing of his drolleries. As an advocate, he was about as false and about as true as an advocate of our own day.[136] That he was not paid, and that our English barristers are paid for the work they do, makes, I think, no difference either in the innocency or the falseness of the practice. I cannot but believe that, hereafter, an improved tone of general feeling will forbid a man of honor to use arguments which he thinks to be untrue, or to make others believe that which he does not believe himself. Such is not the state of things now in London, nor was it at Rome in Cicero’s time. There are touches of eloquence in the plea for Fonteius, but the reader will probably agree with me that the orator was well aware that the late governor who was on his trial had misused those unfortunate Gauls.

In the year following that of Cicero’s Aedileship were written the first of his epistles which have come to us. He was then not yet thirty-nine years old–B.C. 68–and during that year and the next seven were written eleven letters, all to Atticus. Those to his other friends–Ad Familiares, as we have been accustomed to call them; Ad Diversos, they are commonly called now–began only with the close of his consular year. How it has come to pass that there have been preserved only those which were written after a period of life at which most men cease to be free correspondents, cannot be said with certainty. It has probably been occasioned by the fact that he caused his letters to be preserved as soon as he himself perceived how great would be their value. Of the nature of their value it is hardly possible to speak too highly. I am not prepared, indeed, to agree with the often quoted assertion of Cornelius Nepos that he who has read his letters to Atticus will not lack much of the history of those days.[137] A man who should have read them and nothing else, even in the days of Augustus, would not have learned much of the preceding age. But if not for the purpose of history, the letters generally have, if read aright, been all but enough for the purpose of biography. With a view to the understanding of the man’s character, they have, I think, been enough. From them such a flood of light has been turned upon the writer that all his nobility and all his defects, all his aspirations and all his vacillations, have been made visible. We know how human he was, and how, too, he was only human–how he sighed for great events, and allowed himself to think sometimes that they could be accomplished by small manoeuvres–how like a man he could be proud of his work and boast–how like a man he could despair and almost die. But I wish it to be acknowledged, by those who read his letters in order that they may also read his character, that they were, when written, private letters, intended to tell the truth, and that if they are to be believed in reference to his weaknesses, they are also to be believed in reference to his strength. If they are singularly transparent as to the man–opening, especially to Atticus, the doors of his soul more completely than would even any girl of the nineteenth century when writing to her bosom friend–they must be taken as being more honestly true. To regard the aspirations as hypocritical, and only the meaner effusions of his mind as emblematic of the true man, is both unreasonable and uncharitable. Nor, I think, will that reader grasp the way to see the truth who cannot teach himself what has in Cicero’s case, been the effect of daring to tell to his friend an unvarnished tale. When with us some poor thought does make its way across our minds, we do not sit down and write it to another, nor, if we did, would an immortality be awarded to the letter. If one of us were to lose his all–as Cicero lost his all when he was sent into exile–I think it might well be that he should for a time be unmanned; but he would either not write, or, in writing, would hide much of his feelings. On losing his Tullia, some father of to-day would keep it all in his heart, would not maunder out his sorrows. Even with our truest love for our friends, some fear is mingled which forbids the use of open words. Whether this be for good or for evil I will not say, but it is so. Cicero, whether he did or did not know that his letters would live, was impeded by no such fear. He said everything that there was within him–being in this, I should say, quite as unlike to other Romans of the day as he was to ourselves. In the collection as it has come to us there are about fifty letters–not from Cicero–written to Cicero by his brother, by Decimus Brutus, by Plancus, and others. It will, I think, be admitted that their tone is quite different from that used by himself. There are none, indeed, from Atticus–none written under terms of such easy friendship as prevailed when many were written by Cicero himself. It will probably be acknowledged that his manner of throwing himself open to his correspondent was peculiar to him. If this be so, he should surely have the advantage as well as the disadvantage of his own mode of utterance. The reader who allows himself to think that the true character of the man is to be read in the little sly things he said to Atticus, but that the nobler ideas were merely put forth to cajole the public, is as unfair to himself as he is to Cicero.

In reading the entire correspondence–the letters from Cicero either to Atticus or to others–it has to be remembered that in the ordinary arrangement of them made by Graevius[138] they are often incorrectly paced in regard to chronology. In subsequent times efforts have been made to restore them to their proper position, and so they should be read. The letters to Atticus and those Ad Diversos have generally been published separately. For the ordinary purpose of literary pleasure they may perhaps be best read in that way. The tone of them is different. The great bulk of the correspondence is political, or quasi-political. The manner is much more familiar, much less severe–though not on that account indicating less seriousness–in those written to Atticus than in the others. With one or two signal exceptions, those to Atticus are better worth reading. The character of the writer may perhaps be best gathered from divided perusal; but for a general understanding of the facts of Cicero’s life, the whole correspondence should be taken as it was written. It has been published in this shape as well as in the other, and will be used in this shape in my effort to portray the life of him who wrote them.[139]

[Sidenote: B.C. 68, _aetat._ 39.]

We have three letters written when he was thirty-eight, in the year after his Aedileship. In the first he tells his friend of the death of his cousin, Lucius Cicero, who had travelled with him into Sicily, and alludes to the disagreements which had taken place between Pomponia, the sister of Atticus, and her husband, Quintus Cicero–our Cicero’s brother. Marcus, in all that he says of his brother, makes the best of him. That Quintus was a scholar and a man of parts there can be no doubt; one, too, who rose to high office in the Republic. But he was arrogant, of harsh temper, cruel to those dependent on him, and altogether unimbued with the humanity which was the peculiar characteristic of his brother. “When I found him to be in the wrong,” says Cicero, in his first letter,” “I wrote to him as to a brother whom I loved; but as to one younger than myself, and whom I was bound to tell of his fault.” As is usual with correspondents, half the letter is taken up with excuses for not writing sooner; then he gives commissions for the purchase of statues for his Tusculan villa, of which we now hear for the first time, and tells his friend how his wife, Terentia, sends her love, though she is suffering from the gout. Tullia also, the dear little Tullia, “deliciae nostrae,”[140]sends her love. In the next, he says how a certain house which Atticus had intended to purchase had been secured by Fonteius for 130,000 sesterces–something over L1000, taking the sesterce at 2 _d_. This no doubt was part of the plunder which Fonteius had taken from the Gauls. Quintus is getting on better with his wife. Then he tells his friend very abruptly that his father died that year on the eighth day before the kalends of December–on the 24th of November. Some question as to the date of the old man’s death had probably been asked. He gives further commissions as to statues, and declares of his Tusculan villa that he is happy only when he is there. In the third letter he promises that he will be ready to pay one Cincius L170 on a certain day, the price probably of more statues, and gives orders to his friend as to the buying of books. “All my prospect of enjoying myself at my ease depends on your goodness.” These were the letters he wrote when he had just ceased to be Aedile.

From the next two years five letters remain to us, chiefly noticeable from the continued commissions given by Cicero to Atticus for statues. Statues and more statues are wanted as ornaments for his Tusculanum. Should there be more than are needed for that villa, he will begin to decorate another that he has, the Formianum, near Caieta. He wants whatever Atticus may think proper for his “palaestra” and “gymnasium.” Atticus has a library or collection of maps for sale, and Cicero engages to buy them, though it seems that he has not at present quite got the money. He reserves, he says, all his little comings-in, “vindemiolas”–what he might make by selling his grapes as a lady in the country might get a little income from her spare butter–in order that he may have books as a resource for his old age. Again, he bids Atticus not to be afraid but what he, Cicero, will be able to buy them some day–which if he can do he will be richer than Crassus, and will envy no one his mansions or his lawns. He also declares that he has betrothed Tullia, then ten years old, to Caius Piso, son of Lucius Piso Frugi. The proposed marriage, which after three years of betrothal was duly solemnized, was considered to be in all respects desirable. Cicero thought very highly of his son-in-law, who was related to Calpurnius Piso, one of the Consuls of that year. So far everything was going well with our orator.

[Sidenote: B.C. 67, _aetat._ 40]

He was then candidate for the Praetorship, and was elected first, as has been already said. It was in that year, too that a law was passed in Rome, at the instance of one Gabinius, a tribune, authorizing Pompey to exterminate the pirates in the Mediterranean, and giving him almost unlimited power for this object. Pompey was not, indeed, named in this law. A single general, one who had been Consul, was to be approved by the Senate, with exclusive command by sea and for fifty miles on shore. He was to select as his own officers a hitherto unheard-of number, all of senatorial rank. It was well understood when the law was worded that Pompey alone could fill the place. The Senate opposed the scheme with all its power, although, seven years before, it had acknowledged the necessity of some measure for extirpating the pirates. But jealousies prevailed, and the Senate was afraid of Pompey. Gabinius, however, carried his law by the votes of the people, and Pompey was appointed.

Nothing tells us more clearly the wretched condition of things in Rome at this time than this infliction of pirates, under which their commerce was almost destroyed. Sulla had re-established the outside show of a strong government–a government which was strong enough to enable rich men to live securely in Rome; but he had done nothing to consolidate the Empire. Even Lucullus in the East had only partially succeeded, leaving Mithridates still to be dealt with by Pompey. Of what nature was the government of the provinces under Sulla’s aristocracy we learn from the trials of Verres, and of Fonteius, and of Catiline. The Mediterranean swarmed with pirates, who taught themselves to think that they had nothing to fear from the hands of the Romans. Plutarch declares to us–no doubt with fair accuracy, because the description has been admitted by subsequent writers–how great was the horror of these depredations.[141] It is marvellous to us now that this should have been allowed–marvellous that pirates should reach such a pitch of importance that Verres had found it worth his while to sacrifice Roman citizens in their place. Pompey went forth with his officers, his fleets, and his money, and cleared the Mediterranean in forty days, as Plutarch says. Floras tells us that not a ship was lost by the Romans, and not a pirate left on the seas.[142]

In the history of Rome at this time we find men of mark whose characters, as we read, become clear to us, or appear to become clear. Of Marius and of Sulla we have a defined idea. Caesar, with his imperturbable courage, absence of scruples, and assurance of success, comes home to us. Cicero, I think, we certainly may understand. Catiline, Cato, Antony, and Brutus have left their portraits with us. Of Pompey I must acknowledge for myself that I have but a vague conception.

His wonderful successes seem to have been produced by so very little power of his own! He was not determined and venomous as was Marius; not cold-blooded and ruthless as was Sulla; certainly not confident as was Caesar; not humane as was Cicero; not passionate as Catiline; not stoic as was Cato; not reckless as was Antony, nor wedded to the idea of an oligarchy as was Brutus. Success came in his way, and he found it–found it again and again, till fortune seemed to have adopted him. Success lifted him higher and higher, till at last it seemed to him that he must be a Sulla whether he would or no.[143]

But he could not endure the idea of a rival Sulla. I doubt whether ambition would have prompted him to fight for the empire of the Republic, had he not perceived that that empire would fall into Caesar’s hands did he not grasp it himself. It would have satisfied him to let things go, while the citizens called him “Magnus,” and regarded him as the man who could do a great thing if he would, if only no rivalship had been forced upon him. Caesar did force it on him, and then, as a matter of course, he fell. He must have understood warfare from his youth upward, knowing well the purposes of a Roman legion and of Roman auxiliaries. He had destroyed Sertorius in Spain, a man certainly greater than himself, and had achieved the honor of putting an end to the Servile war when Spartacus, the leader of the slaves and gladiators, had already been killed. He must have appreciated at its utmost the meaning of those words, “Cives Romanus”. He was a handsome man, with good health, patient of labor, not given to luxury, reticent, I should say ungenerous, and with a strong touch of vanity; a man able to express but unable to feel friendship; with none of the highest attributes of manhood, but with all the second-rate attributes at their best; a capable, brave man, but one certain to fall crushed beneath the heel of such a man as Caesar, and as certain to leave such a one as Cicero in the lurch.

It is necessary that the reader should attempt to realize to himself the personal characteristics of Pompey, as from this time forward Cicero’s political life–and his life now became altogether political–was governed by that of Pompey. That this was the case to a great extent is certain–to a sad extent, I think. The two men were of the same age; but Pompey had become a general among soldiers before Cicero had ceased to be a pupil among advocates. As Cicero was making his way toward the front, Pompey was already the first among Romans. He had been Consul seven years before his proper time, and had lately, as we have seen, been invested with extraordinary powers in that matter of putting down the pirates. In some sort the mantle of Sulla had fallen upon him. He was the leader of what we may call the conservative party. If, which I doubt, the political governance of men was a matter of interest to him, he would have had them governed by oligarchical forms. Such had been the forms in Rome, in which, though the votes of the people were the source of all power, the votes hardly went further than the selection of this or that oligarch. Pompey no doubt felt the expediency of maintaining the old order of things, in the midst of which he had been born to high rank, and had achieved the topmost place either by fortune or by merit. For any heartfelt conviction as to what might be best for his country or his countrymen, in what way he might most surely use his power for the good of the citizens generally, we must, I think, look in vain to that Pompey whom history has handed down to us. But, of all matters which interested Cicero, the governance of men interested him the most. How should the great Rome of his day rise to greater power than ever, and yet be as poor as in the days of her comparative insignificance? How should Rome be ruled so that Romans might be the masters of the world, in mental gifts as well as bodily strength, in arts as well as in arms–as by valor, so by virtue? He, too, was an oligarch by strongest conviction. His mind could conceive nothing better than Consuls, Praetors, Censors, Tribunes, and the rest of it; with, however, the stipulation that the Consuls and the Praetors should be honest men. The condition was no doubt an impossible one; but this he did not or would not see. Pompey himself was fairly honest. Up to this time he had shown no egregious lust for personal power. His hands were clean in the midst of so much public plunder. He was the leader of the conservative party. The “Optimates,” or “Boni,” as Cicero indifferently calls them–meaning, as we should say, the upper classes, who were minded to stand by their order–believed in him, though they did not just at that time wish to confide to him the power which the people gave him. The Senate did not want another Sulla; and yet it was Sulla who had reinstated the Senate. The Senate would have hindered Pompey, if it could, from his command against the pirates, and again from his command against Mithridates. But he, nevertheless, was naturally their head, as came to be seen plainly when, seventeen years afterward, Caesar passed the Rubicon, and Cicero in his heart acknowledged Pompey as his political leader while Pompey lived. This, I think, was the case to a sad extent, as Pompey was incapable of that patriotic enthusiasm which Cicero demanded. As we go on we shall find that the worst episodes in Cicero’s political career were created by his doubting adherence to a leader whom he bitterly felt to be untrue to himself, and in whom his trust became weaker and weaker to the end.

Then came Cicero’s Praetorship. In the time of Cicero there were eight Praetors, two of whom were employed in the city, and the six others in the provinces. The “Praetor Urbanus” was confined to the city, and was regarded as the first in authority.

This was the office filled by Cicero. His duty was to preside among the judges, and to name a judge or judges for special causes.

[Sidenote: B.C. 66, _aetat._ 41.]

Cicero at this time, when he and Pompey were forty or forty-one, believed thoroughly in Pompey. When the great General was still away, winding up the affairs of his maritime war against the pirates, there came up the continually pressing question of the continuation of the Mithridatic war. Lucullus had been absent on that business nearly seven years, and, though he had been at first grandly victorious, had failed at last. His own soldiers, tired of their protracted absence, mutinied against him, and Glabrio, a later Consul, who bad been sent to take the command out of his hands, had feared to encounter the difficulty. It was essential that something should be done, and one Manilius, a Tribune, a man of no repute himself, but whose name has descended to all posterity in the oration Pro Lege Manilia, proposed to the people that Pompey should have the command. Then Cicero first entered, as we may say, on political life. Though he had been Quaestor and Aedile, and was now Praetor, he had taken a part only in executive administration. He had had his political ideas, and had expressed them very strongly in that matter of the judges, which, in the condition of Rome, was certainly a political question of great moment. But this he had done as an advocate, and had interfered only as a barrister of to-day might do, who, in arguing a case before the judges, should make an attack on some alleged misuse of patronage. Now, for the first time, he made a political harangue, addressing the people in a public meeting from the rostra. This speech is the oration Pro Lego Manilia. This he explains in his first words. Hitherto his addresses had been to the judges–Judices; now it is to the people–Quirites: “Although, Quirites, no sight has ever been so pleasant to me as that of seeing you gathered in crowds–although this spot has always seemed to me the fittest in the world for action and the noblest for speech –nevertheless, not my own will, indeed, but the duties of the profession which I have followed from my earliest years have hitherto hindered me from entering upon this the best path to glory which is open to any good man.” It is only necessary for our purpose to say, in reference to the matter in question, that this command was given to Pompey in opposition to the Senate.

As to the speech itself, it requires our attention on two points. It is one of those choice morsels of polished Latinity which have given to Cicero the highest rank among literary men, and have, perhaps, made him the greatest writer of prose which the world has produced. I have sometimes attempted to make a short list of his _chefs d’oeuvre_–of his tidbits, as I must say, if I am bound to express myself in English. The list would never allow itself to be short, and so has become almost impossible; but, whenever the attempt has been made, this short oration in its integrity has always been included in it. My space hardly permits me to insert specimens of the author’s style, but I will give in an appendix[144] two brief extracts as specimens of the beauty of words in Latin. I almost fancy that if properly read they would have a grace about them even to the ears of those to whom Latin is unknown. I venture to attach to them in parallel columns my own translation, acknowledging in despair how impossible I have found it to catch anything of the rhythm of the author. As to the beauty of the language I shall probably find no opponent. But a serious attack has been made on Cicero’s character, because it has been supposed that his excessive praise was lavished on Pompey with a view of securing the great General’s assistance in his candidature for the Consulship. Even Middleton repeats this accusation, and only faintly repels it. M. Du Rozoir, the French critic, declares that “in the whole oration there is not a word which was not dictated to Cicero the Praetor by his desire to become Consul, and that his own elevation was in his thoughts all through, and not that of Pompey.” The matter would be one to us but of little moment, were it not that Cicero’s character for honesty as a politician depends on the truth or falsehood of his belief in Pompey. Pompey had been almost miraculously fortunate up to this period of his life’s career. He had done infinitely valuable service to the State. He had already crushed the pirates. There was good ground for believing that in his hands the Roman arms would be more efficacious against Mithridates than in those of any other General. All that Cicero says on this head, whatever might have been his motive for saying it, was at any rate true.

A man desirous of rising in the service of his country of course adheres to his party. That Cicero was wrong in supposing that the Republic, which had in fact already fallen, could be re-established by the strength of any one man, could be bolstered up by any leader, has to be admitted; that in trusting to Pompey as a politician he leaned on a frail reed I admit; but I will not admit that in praising the man he was hypocritical or unduly self-seeking. In our own political contests, when a subordinate member of the Cabinet is zealously serviceable to his chief, we do not accuse him of falsehood because by that zeal he has also strengthened his own hands. How shall a patriot do the work of his country unless he be in high place? and how shall he achieve that place except by co-operation with those whom he trusts? They who have blamed Cicero for speaking on behalf of Pompey on this occasion, seem to me to ignore not only the necessities but the very virtues of political life.

One other remarkable oration Cicero made during his Praetorship–that, namely, in defence of Aulus Cluentius Habitus. As it is the longest, so is it the most intricate, and on account of various legal points the most difficult to follow of all his speeches. But there are none perhaps which tell us more of the condition, or perhaps I should say the possibilities, of life among the Romans of that day. The accusation against Roscius Amerinus was accompanied by horrible circumstances. The iniquities of Verres, as a public officer who had the power of blessing or of cursing a whole people, were very terrible; but they do not shock so much as the story here told of private life. That any man should have lived as did Oppianicus, or any woman as did Sassia, seems to prove a state of things worse than anything described by Juvenal a hundred and fifty years later. Cicero was no doubt unscrupulous as an advocate, but he could have gained nothing here by departing from verisimilitude. We must take the picture as given us as true, and acknowledge that, though law processes were common, crimes such as those of this man and of this woman were not only possible, but might be perpetrated with impunity. The story is too long and complicated to be even abridged; but it should be read by those who wish to know the condition of life in Italy during the latter days of the Republic.

[Sidenote: B.C. 65, aetat. 42.]

In the year after he was Praetor–in the first of the two years between his Praetorship and Consulship, B.C. 65–he made a speech in defence of one Caius Cornelius, as to which we hear that the pleadings in the case occupied four days. This, with our interminable “causes celebres,” does not seem much to us, but Cicero’s own speech was so long that in publishing it he divided it into two parts. This Cornelius had been Tribune in the year but one before, and was accused of having misused his power when in office. He had incurred the enmity of the aristocracy by attempts made on the popular side to restrain the Senate; especially by the stringency of a law proposed for stopping bribery at elections. Cicero’s speeches are not extant. We have only some hardly intelligible fragments of them, which were preserved by Asconius,[145] a commentator on certain of Cicero’s orations; but there is ground for supposing that these Cornelian orations were at the time matter of as great moment as those spoken against Verres, or almost as those spoken against Catiline. Cicero defended Cornelius, who was attacked by the Senate–by the rich men who desired office and the government of provinces. The law proposed for the restriction of bribery at elections no doubt attempted to do more by the severity of its punishment than can be achieved by such means: it was mitigated, but was still admitted by Cicero to be too rigorous. The rancor of the Senate against Cornelius seems to have been due to this attempt; but the illegality with which he was charged, and for which he was tried, had reference to another law suggested by him–for restoring to the people the right of pardon which had been usurped by the Senate. Caius Cornelius seems to have been a man honest and eager in his purpose to save the Republic from the greed of the oligarchs, but–as had been the Gracchi–ready in his eagerness to push his own authority too far in his attempt to restrain that of the Senate. A second Tribune, in the interest of the Senate, attempted to exercise an authority which undoubtedly belonged to him, by inhibiting the publication or reading of the proposed law. The person whose duty it was to read it was stopped; then Cornelius pushed aside the inferior officer, and read it himself. There was much violence, and the men who brought the accusation about Cornelius–two brothers named Cominii–had to hide themselves, and saved their lives by escaping over the roofs of the houses.

This took place when Cicero was standing for the Praetorship, and the confusion consequent upon it was so great that it was for awhile impossible to carry on the election. In the year after his Praetorship Cornelius was put upon his trial, and the two speeches were made.

The matter seems to have been one of vital interest in Rome. The contest on the part of the Senate was for all that made public life dear to such a body. Not to bribe–not to be able to lay out money in order that money might be returned ten-fold, a hundred-fold–would be to them to cease to be aristocrats. The struggles made by the Gracchi, by Livius Drusus, by others whose names would only encumber us here, by this Cornelius, were the expiring efforts of those who really desired an honest Republic. Such were the struggles made by Cicero himself; though there was present always to him an idea, with which, in truth, neither the demagogues nor the aristocrats sympathized, that the reform could be effected, not by depriving the Senate of its power, but by teaching the Senate to use it honestly. We can sympathize with the idea, but we are driven to acknowledge that it was futile.

Though we know that this was so, the fragments of the speeches, though they have been made intelligible to us by the “argument” or story of them prefixed by Asconius in his notes, cannot be of interest to readers. They were extant in the time of Quintilian, who speaks of them with the highest praise.[146] Cicero himself selects certain passages out of these speeches as examples of eloquence or rhythm,[147] thus showing the labor with which he composed them, polishing them by the exercise of his ear as well as by that of his intellect. We know from Asconius that this trial was regarded at the time as one of vital interest.

We have two letters from Cicero written in the year after his Praetorship, both to Atticus, the first of which tells us of his probable competition for the Consulship; the second informs his friend that a son is born to him–he being then forty-two years old–and that he is thinking to undertake the defence of Catiline, who was to be accused of peculation as Propraetor in Africa. “Should he be acquitted,” says Cicero, “I should hope to have him on my side in the matter of my canvass. If he should be convicted, I shall be able to bear that too.” There were to be six or seven candidates, of whom two, of course, would be chosen. It would be much to Cicero “to run,” as our phrase goes, with the one who among his competitors would be the most likely to succeed. Catiline, in spite of his then notorious character–in the teeth of the evils of his government in Africa–was, from his birth, his connections, and from his ability, supposed to have the best chance. It was open to Cicero to defend Catiline as he had defended Fonteius, and we know from his own words that he thought of doing so. But he did not; nor did Cicero join himself with Catiline in the canvassing. It is probable that the nature of Catiline’s character and intentions were now becoming clearer from day to day. Catiline was tried and acquitted, having, it is said, bribed the judges.

NOTES:

[134] Pro Fonteio, xiii.

[135] De Oratore, lib.ii., lix.: “Perspicitis, hoc genus quam sit facetum, quam elegans, quam oratorium, sive habeas vere, quod narrare possis, quod tamen, est mendaciunculis aspergendum, sive fingas.” Either invent a story, or if you have an old one, add on something so as to make it really funny. Is there a parson, a bishop, an archbishop, who, if he have any sense of humor about him, does not do the same?

[136] Cicero, Pro Cluentio, l., explains very clearly his own idea as to his own speeches as an advocate, and may be accepted, perhaps, as explaining the ideas of barristers of to-day. “He errs,” he says, “who thinks that he gets my own opinions in speeches made in law courts; such speeches are what the special cases require, and are not to be taken as coming from the advocate as his own.”

[137] When the question is discussed, we are forced rather to wonder how many of the great historical doings of the time are not mentioned, or are mentioned very slightly, in Cicero’s letters. Of Pompey’s treatment of the pirates, and of his battling in the East, little or nothing is said, nothing of Caesar’s doings in Spain. Mention is made of Caesar’s great operations in Gaul only in reference to the lieutenancy of Cicero’s brother Quintus, and to the employment of his young friend Trebatius. Nothing is said of the manner of Caesar’s coming into Rome after passing the Rubicon; nothing of the manner of fighting at Dyrrachium and Pharsalia; very little of the death of Pompey; nothing of Caesar’s delay in Egypt. The letters deal with Cicero’s personal doings and thoughts, and with the politics of Rome as a city. The passage to which allusion is made occurs in the life of Atticus, ca. xvi: “Quae qui legat non multum desideret historiam contextam illorum temporum.”

[138] Jean George Greefe was a German, who spent his life as a professor at Leyden, and, among other classical labors, arranged and edited the letters of Cicero. He died in 1703.

[139] It must be explained, however, that continued research and increased knowledge have caused the order of the letters, and the dates assigned to them, to be altered from time to time; and, though much has been done to achieve accuracy, more remains to be done. In my references to the letters I at first gave them, both to the arrangement made by Graevius and to the numbers assigned in the edition I am using; but I have found that the numbers would only mislead, as no numbering has been yet adopted as fixed. Arbitrary and even fantastic as is the arrangement of Graevius, it is better to confine myself to that because it has been acknowledged, and will enable my readers to find the letters if they wish to do so. Should Mr. Tyrell continue and complete his edition of the correspondence, he will go far to achieve the desired accuracy. A second volume has appeared since this work of mine has been in the press.

[140] The peculiarities of Cicero’s character are nowhere so clearly legible as in his dealings with and words about his daughter. There is an effusion of love, and then of sorrow when she dies, which is un-Roman, almost feminine, but very touching.

[141] I annex a passage from our well known English translation: “The power of the pirates had its foundation in Cilicia. Their progress was the more dangerous, because at first it had been but little noticed. In the Mithridatic war they assumed new confidence and courage, on account of some services which they had rendered the king. After this, the Romans being engaged in civil war at the very gates of their capital, the sea was left unguarded, and the pirates by degrees attempted higher things–not only attacking ships, but islands and maritime towns. Many persons distinguished for their wealth, birth and capacity embarked with them, and assisted in their depredations, as if their employment had been worthy the ambition of men of honor. They had in various places arsenals, ports, and watch-towers, all strongly fortified. Their fleets were not only extremely well manned, supplied with skilful pilots, and fitted for their business by their lightness and celerity, but there was a parade of vanity about them, more mortifying than their strength, in gilded sterns, purple canopies, and plated oars, as if they took a pride and triumphed in their villany. Music resounded, and drunken revels were exhibited on every coast. Here generals were made prisoners; and there the cities which the pirates had seized upon were paying their ransom, to the great disgrace of the Roman power. The number of their galleys amounted to a thousand, and the cities taken to four hundred.” The passage is taken from the life of Pompey.

[142] Florus, lib.iii., 6: “An felicitatem, quod ne una cuidam navis amissa est; an vero perpetuetatem, quod ampluis piratae non fuerunt.”

[143] Of the singular trust placed in Pompey there are very many proofs in the history of Rome at this period, but none, perhaps, clearer than the expection made in this favor in the wording of laws. In the agrarian law proposed by the Tribune Rullus, and opposed by Cicero when he was Consul, there is a clause commanding all Generals under the Republic to account for the spoils taken by them in war. But there is a special exemption in favor of Pompey. “Pompeius exceptus esto.” It is as though no Tribune dared to propose a law affecting Pompey.

[144] See Appendix D.

[145] Asconius Pedianus was a grammarian who lived in the reign of Tiberius, and whose commentaries on Cicero’s speeches, as far as they go, are very useful in explaining to us the meaning of the orator. We have his notes on these two Cornelian orations and some others, especially on that of Pro Milone. There are also commentaries on some of the Verrine orations–not by Asconius, but from the pen of some writer now called Pseudo-Asconius, having been long supposed to have come from Asconius. They, too, go far to elucidate much which would otherwise be dark to us.

[146] Quint., lib.viii., 3. The critic is explaining the effect of ornament in oratory–of that beauty of language which with the people has more effect than argument–and he breaks forth himself into perhaps the most eloquent passage in the whole Institute: “Cicero, in pleading for Cornelius, fought with arms which were as splendid as they were strong. It was not simply by putting the facts before the judges, by talking usefully, in good language and clearly, that he succeeded in forcing the Roman people to acknowledge by their voices and by their hands their admiration; it was the grandeur of his words, their magnificence, their beauty, their dignity, which produced that outburst.”

[147] Orator., lxvii. and lxx.

CHAPTER VIII.

CICERO AS CONSUL.

Hitherto everything had succeeded with Cicero. His fortune and his fame had gone hand-in-hand. The good-will of the citizens had been accorded to him on all possible occasions. He had risen surely, if not quickly, to the top of his profession, and had so placed himself there as to have torn the wreath from the brow of his predecessor and rival, Hortensius. On no memorable occasion had he been beaten. If now and then he had failed to win a cause in which he was interested, it was as to some matter in which, as he had said to Atticus in speaking of his contemplated defence of Catiline, he was not called on to break his heart if he were beaten. We may imagine that his life had been as happy up to this point as a man’s life may be. He had married well. Children had been born to him, who were the source of infinite delight. He had provided himself with houses, marbles, books, and all the intellectual luxuries which well-used wealth could produce. Friends were thick around him. His industry, his ability, and his honesty were acknowledged. The citizens had given him all that it was in their power to give. Now at the earliest possible day, with circumstances of much more than usual honor, he was put in the highest place which his country had to offer, and knew himself to be the one man in whom his country at this moment trusted. Then came the one twelve-month, the apex of his fortunes; and after that, for the twenty years that followed, there fell upon him one misery after another–one trouble on the head of another trouble–so cruelly that the reader, knowing the manner of the Romans, almost wonders that he condescended to live.

[Sidenote: B.C. 64, _aetat._ 43]

He was chosen Consul, we are told, not by the votes but by the unanimous acclamation of the citizens. What was the exact manner of doing this we can hardly now understand. The Consuls were elected by ballot, wooden tickets having been distributed to the people for the purpose; but Cicero tells us that no voting tickets were used in his case, but that he was elected by the combined voice of the whole people.[148] He had stood with six competitors. Of these it is only necessary to mention two, as by them only was Cicero’s life affected, and as out of the six, only they seem to have come prominently forward during the canvassing. These were Catiline the conspirator, as we shall have to call him in dealing with his name in the next chapter, and Caius Antonius, one of the sons of Marc Antony, the great orator of the preceding age, and uncle of the Marc Antony with whom we are all so well acquainted, and with whom we shall have so much to do before we get to the end of this work. Cicero was so easily the first that it may be said of him that he walked over the course. Whether