Beneath the lines: An amateur’s
analysis into legal and historical contexts surrounding Cicero’s In Verrem.
Panwa
Nilprapunt
“Nullae sunt occultiores insidiae
quam eae quae latent in simulatione offici aut in aliquo necessitudinis nomine.”
“There are
no intrigues more difficult to guard against than those which are concealed
under a pretence of duty, or under the name of some intimate connection.”
– Cicero, In Verrem, I, [39]
Amongst the ranks of emperors,
warriors, and statesmen, the figure of Marcus Tullius Cicero (106–43 BC) is
perhaps one of the most widely recognised by the enthusiasts of Roman history;
this reputation is supported by a number of reasons. Those who partake in the
study of Latin literature, for instance, should be familiar with his various
speeches and writings, whose rich and inventive styles instrumentally
influenced the development of the Latin language. And yet, many of them also
tend to view the man with some scorn, largely thanks to his penchant for
dramatics and the preternatural ability to speak several lines without using a
single verb (O tempora! O mores! Indeed). At the same time, students of law are
likely to know him as a staunch advocate of the idea of the Law of Nations (ius gentium) and for establishing that
the ultimate objective of the law is the people’s welfare (“Salus populi suprema lex esto”);[1] whilst the
multitude of his correspondences, including the letters to his friend Atticus
and family members, are also recognised as the priceless evidence that helps
historians understand the perceptions of politics, philosophy, and society
shared between Cicero and his contemporaries during the last days of the Roman
republic.[2] Put
simply, while his controversial character and shares of political scandals
means that Cicero himself is not the best of men, his conviction towards the
idea of the republic and profound contribution to the intellectual flourishing
of Roman society remains indisputable; so much so, in fact, that even Emperor
Augustus – a man who, alongside Mark Antony and Marcus Lepidus, was behind the
death of Cicero – once he found his son reading a work by the condemned
statesman, could not help but praise him as ‘a learned man, and a lover of his
country’.[3]
As for myself, while circumstances
have ensured that Cicero’s name is not entirely unknown within my household, it
was only recently that fortunes decided to grant me an opportunity to deepen my
understanding of his life and works. As our society buckles under the weight of
crises and social transformation, I have come to realise, after some
rumination, that my current knowledge of human affairs is lacking. There are
many reasons for this, be it my young age or the absence of experience; yet
they are not, and could never be, justifications for one to remain shrouded in
ignorance. This recognition thus leads me to become more aware of the
importance of history as, in the words of the historian Polybius, ‘there is no
better corrective of human behaviour than knowledge of past events.’[4]
Moreover, apart from revealing how our ancestors acted when pressed by
challenges, history can also help its pursuers to contextualise the development
of ideas throughout the ages; for while it is true that technology has simplified
our access to knowledge, it also serves, perhaps unintentionally, to inhibit
our desire to reach beyond our first impression of them. Therefore I would like
to present an argument in defence of history, for, despite the claim of some
people that the past is no longer relevant to us, it is my faith that those who
pursue it are most equipped in their quest to understand the world and overcome
their inherent prejudice, especially in the time when democracy is crumbling
under the weight of its own freedom and wisdom is being replaced by beliefs.
And yet, few questions persist among
the inquirers of history, just as it has been for our illustrious, and
oftentimes damnable, forebears: what is it that we should believe? And at which
point should our study begin? Of course, the fact that we put much of our time
and effort into answering these problems should come as a surprise for many;
though the consideration of human nature should answer their curiosity. For one
thing, it has been proven, time after time, that we humans are creatures of
bias and partiality. Take, for example, ancient works such as mythologies and
religious scriptures from around the world, now try reading them and see how
many elements they have in common. Be it the hero’s journey, or whatever that
has been studied by earlier scholars,[5] such
commonalities often hide, beneath the lines which narrate the stories or
manifestos, how their creator – or creators – perceived the world, how it had
been in their times, and how it should be. These desires subsequently compelled
these individuals into choosing, oftentimes under the guise of anonymity,
though time has never been merciful to man’s effort to be remembered, to put
their thoughts into words, to discuss them with their fellow men; whilst we, whose
conventions, ethics, and norms are deeply influenced by such words, are, in
turn, shaped by them. Nevertheless, as we can never truly know what lies within
the hearts of others, it is best to exercise caution and not to take everything
we read from books – including this work – as absolute truths, as they can only
reflect the streams of knowledge which their authors choose to derive, or
rather interpret, from the great tide of history. The idea of freedom may be
sweet for the senses in the same way as tyranny is revolting to the soul, but
so are those of gods and devils, and look how many injustices have been
conducted throughout the ages in the name of the formers.
In a similar vein, the inconsistency
and ironies natural to man should also come as warnings to any who consult the
evidence from the past, for we can never truly understand them unless we take
into account the circumstances upon which they were created. A man, for
instance, may have been driven to write a book as means of expressing his ideas
at a certain point in time; yet there is nothing that prohibits him from
growing distant or becoming resentful of them as time passes. In the meantime,
it is equally mistaken to hold a man’s thought as an entity ex nihilo, for, as has been suggested since
the time of men like Aristotle,[6] every
single piece of idea has its basis upon the preexisting knowledge which, by
becoming exposed to us, serves to influence the process of learning that can
last throughout one’s life. Consequently, those who opt to employ historical
resources, regardless of whatever their objects of interest or intents are,
should remember that they must examine them with as much consideration towards
objectivity and the contemporary contexts as possible, lest they surrender
themselves to bias, misconception, and prejudice which can both damage the
integrity of their judgements and, especially in the age where the propagation
of one’s thoughts is easier than ever, those of their peers and the societies
in which they belong. Still, as one’s quest for knowledge must begin somewhere,
such starting point must also be adequate so that the inquirer will be able to
determine the course of the event, its underlying causes, and the roles it
plays in the subsequent development; again, this follows the advice of
Polybius, who claimed that an improper starting point would invalidate whatever
follows.[7]
Accordingly, the aforementioned
axioms have led me into deciding that the study of so complex an individual
like Cicero is a task that merits adequate beginning; and it was upon this
basis that In Verrem was chosen.
Delivered in 70 B.C., the work was a collection of six speeches used by Cicero
in the trial of Gaius Verres, the former governor of Sicily. Representing the
people of Sicily, Cicero, who was then holding a minor magistrate post of
questor, successfully prosecuted Verres, a senior senator who was also aided by
the famous orator Quintus Hortensius Hortalus – who later became a consul in 69
B.C. – on the charges of extortion and corruption during his tenure as a
governor in Cilicia and Sicily. Driven into the corner by Cicero’s first and
second speeches, Verres, who was also advised by Hortensius that there was no
point in continuing, chose to punish himself by self-exiling to Massilia (modern-day
Marseilles), where he would live in obscurity, his reputation shattered, until
his murder in 43 B.C. under the order of Mark Anthony.[8] On the other
hand, Cicero’s success in persecuting Verres means that he was entitled – as
per the Roman custom – to the disgraced senator’s position in the Senate, which
in return dramatically strengthened his political position and paved the way
for further political advancements, including the eventual consulship of 63
B.C.
The Verrine orations, which include
the preceding oration Divinatio In
Caecilium and the four, ultimately unused, speeches that Cicero also
published in commemoration of the event, can, therefore, be seen as the marking
point of Cicero’s transformation, from a young questor who was making his steady
progress across Rome’s political jungle, to the famed orator on his way to
become one of the republic’s most renowned statesman. Furthermore, the time in
which the work came into existence also possesses monumental historical values,
with the republic still recovering from the scars left by several, grievous
conflicts: including the Social War (91–87 B.C.), the Second Mithridatic and
the Roman Civil Wars (83–81 BC), and the aftermath of the Dictatorship of
Lucius Cornelius Sulla (82–78 B.C.). Meanwhile, the same period also witnesses
the beginning of the social upheavals that followed in the wake of Rome’s
newfound position as the undisputed master of the Mediterranean, whose impacts
would eventually lead to the downfall of the Republic and its reorganisation
under the Augustan empire. Naturally, the position of In Verrem at the crossroad where past and present converge, both
for Cicero and for his country, offers an opportunity that, when combined with
other pieces of evidence, can provide us with powerful insights into many
aspects of the daily life – specifically, its legal and historical dimensions –
from the era they originated from, while also helping us see how they managed
to link up with the past and the future that was to come.
Surprisingly enough, while the
purpose of In Verrem should make it
an enticing piece of evidence for historians, a survey of existing works that
concern the oration also reveals that this is not exactly the case. For
instance, the preliminary use of Google Scholar as a search engine (with ‘In
Verrem’ as the keyword) revealed only a handful of works, out of 16,100 results
found, that attempted to analyse the social contexts surrounding the case
against Verres. Of which, the work by Frazel[9] came the
closest in its analysis of how Cicero, employing his knowledge of the Roman
judicial proceeding, constructed an effective accusation against Verres and
Hortensius in their effort to postpone the trial; this discussion,
nevertheless, was only there as a part of the text’s overall evaluation of In Verrem’s circulation among Cicero and
his friends, and as such failed to realise its potential. Similarly, the works
by Matier[10] and
Santamaria[11] only
offer brief summaries of the event which, especially in Santamaria’s case, was
also tied into other issues like the development of natural law. These features
of the aforementioned papers thus hinder their effectiveness as references in
this analysis, though I appreciate their efforts in attempting to discuss the
event and its wider social implications. Meanwhile, the application of further
search keywords: namely ‘history’, and ‘law’, did not have effects aside from
reducing the search results; whilst a similar outcome was also identified
following the examinations of other search engines: including HeinOnline and
the University of Sydney Library. As such, the absence of research into the
importance of In Verrem outside of
its rhetorical values implies the lacuna among the extant literature, which in
return is a shortcoming I intend to address.
Given its purpose, the analysis
conducted in this work will be twofold. Firstly, I will focus on the manners in
which In Verrem reveals to us the
legal process of the late Republican period. This includes what it tells about
the process of choosing a prosecutor (divinatio)
of the Roman courts – specifically, the court which dealt with the charge of
extortion (questio de repetundis) –
following the reforms promulgated by Sulla; the steps necessary for the legal
formula required by such lawsuit; and how the nature of the courts rendered
them vulnerable for exploitation. The second part, meanwhile, will focus on how
Verres’ crimes could be explained by the nature of Rome’s administration in the
early first century B.C. along with how the political tensions during the
period were also employed by Cicero as a tactic to help ensure Verres’
condemnation by the jury. These examinations, I hope, should shed light upon the
values of the Verrine orations and the way they corroborate the other evidence
from the same period, which in return should give further credence to their
worth aside from the already recognised rhetorical value.
To this end, I have chosen a number
of resources that I considered, and have thus far been validated, to be useful
in this undertaking. First of all, I would like to acknowledge the effort of
C.D. Yonge, whose English translations of the works of Cicero: including In Verrem, Divinatio In Caecilium, and many others, made it possible for this
work to exist in the first place. As for works concerning Roman law and its
development, William Grapel’s introduction to the Institute of Justinian[12] has
provided a very concise summary of the development of the Roman legal system
from the Archaic period to the Codification during the early Byzantine era;
whilst research by George Mousourakis[13] also offers
a very good, and much more updated, evaluation of the same topics. Similarly,
the studies by Frank Cowles and the late Abel Greenidge[14] also provide
systematic assessments of both the trial of Verres and the aspects of the
judicial process during Cicero’s time, and whose works have been of great
benefit to this research. Meanwhile, I would like to also thank Robin Seager,
John Richardson, and every other researcher who participated in The Cambridge Ancient History project,[15] whose
tireless efforts made it possible to create an extensive account of the ancient
world that was the inspiration for this work.
In Verrem as legal evidence: judicial proceedings during the late
Republican period
In order to appreciate the Verrine
orations and what they inform us about judicial proceedings during Cicero’s
time, a brief recourse into the development of Roman law up until that period
is necessary. Initially, the charge of resolving disputes belonged to the kings
(rex), who also acted as the elected
leader of the community;[16] this
however changed as the early republican era saw the transition of powers, and
as such judicial authorities, to the consuls and other positions in the
magistracy. The introduction of praetorship in 367 B.C. delegated this task to
the praetors, who either settled private disputes between Roman citizens (praetor urbanus) or between the citizens
and the foreigners (praetor peregrinus –
introduced as a position in 242 B.C.); specifically, this means that the
praetors could handle the case themselves (actio
extraordinaria) with the help of a consulting body (consilium), or imposing the verdicts came up by the judge (judex) who conducted the investigation (actio ordinaria).[17]
Simultaneously, the role of managing criminal jurisdiction was shared between
the magistrates and the assemblies (which included the comitia centuriata and the comitia
tributa), with the latter gradually superseding the former and leading to
the creation of the early regular courts (judicia
populi). However, the gradual expansion of the Roman territories and the
subsequent increase in legal problems also necessitated again the restructuring
of the legal process, which eventually culminated in the formation of the
permanent courts (quaestiones perpetuae)
– starting from the one which concerns the charge of extortion in the provinces
(quaestio de repetundis) – from the
middle of the second century B.C.[18] As it
was, the history of Roman law can be seen in the same way as its constitution:
as a body that has undergone transformations thanks to various social changes
and efforts of many individuals, and as such is ‘not the work of one man, or
one age’.[19]
Additionally, given the nature of
Verres’ trial, some words must be said of the action de repetundis and the laws which supported its functions.
According to Cowles, it was the Lex
Calpurnia, a law put forward by L. Calpurnius Piso Furgi in 149 B.C., which
established the permanent court that dealt with extortion.[20] The process
of the questio was then supplemented
by the Lex Acilia of 123 B.C. which
abolished senatorial juries and designated a special praetor for handling the
cases. The Lex Cornelia of 111 B.C.
subsequently abolished the ability to re-trial (ampliatio) that was provided by
Lex Acilia, whereas the Lex Servilia Glaucia of 101 B.C.
separated the trial into roughly two parts: with the first being when both the
prosecutor and the defendant presenting their cases and evidence (actio prima); whilst the second also
involved cross-examinations (actio
secunda).[21] Adding
to this was the changes made by the Lex
Cornelia that was introduced by Sulla in 81 B.C.; in it, the lex increased the amount of pecuniary up
to two times the amount extorted, while also introducing the use of lot
(sortitio) for choosing jury and the use of banishment as a possible
punishment.[22]
Meanwhile, the absence of a public prosecutor during Cicero’s era also
necessitates a preliminary contest (divinatio)
between the would-be prosecutor in order to determine who gets to take up the
case.[23] This
in return means that a successful proceeding had to depend upon the goodwill (bona fides) of the prosecutor, as it was
not unheard of that a malicious accuser could simply drop the charge by not
appearing or colluding with the defendants.[24]
Consequently, the application of the
knowledge concerning the actio de
repetundis makes it possible to understand the interactions between those
involved in the Verres case. For instance, the required process of divinatio did influence the decision on
Verres’ side to arrange a prosecutor, Q. Caecilius Niger by name, who would
then proceed to compromise the lawsuit. This in return prompted a strong
reaction by Cicero, who presented in Divinatio
In Caecilium arguments why he should be chosen over Caecilius, including
the claims that it was the Sicilians who asked him for help, and that they
would not appear in the trial if Caecilius was chosen;[25] even though
further examination also shows that it was a complaint made by Sthenius of
Himera, a client of Pompey, that caused the consuls to take action.[26] At the
same time, the very first speech of In
Verrem can also be seen as representing the results from the nominis receptio process, whereby the
prosecutor had to state his intention and request for an adjournment to gather
his evidence before the appearance against both the full court and the preator
– who was then M. Acilius Glabrio, a praetor
urbanus who was also the son of the creator of Lex Acilia.[27] In
this case, Cicero’s request was accepted and he was granted 110 days for the
evidence-gathering process; though he ended up using only sixty of them,
largely thanks to cooperation from the populace of Sicily and despite
resistance from the pro-Verres town of Messana and the effort of the
then-governor and Verres’ ally Metellus.[28] On the other
hand, the process was also adopted as a means to delay the trial by Hortensius
who, acting on behalf of Verres, immediately set up a separate lawsuit with the
receptio process of 108 days; this
would mean that the new lawsuit – an extortion case against the governor of
Macedonia – would begin before the Verres case and such postponing the latter
until it was decided.[29] Hence
the examination of the early Verrine orations offers us invaluable insights
into the preliminary steps of the Roman criminal proceedings, which is
compounded by the fact that the divinatio
is the only surviving example of its kind.
Furthermore, not only the analysis
of the Verres case as it was presented in In
Verrem can help paint a clear picture of the legal process, but it also
shows us how such a system can be compromised into producing partial outcomes.
Driven by his success in postponing the trial from its established date in May,
Hortensius subsequently devised a plan to prolong the hearing process so that
it would last into the next year. Relying on both the fact that many of Verres’
allies had secured important positions during the elections of 70 B.C., with
both himself and Metellus having been elected consuls, and that the new year
would force the current officials, including Glabrio, to step down from their
duties, Hortensius was aiming to use his strengthened position to compel the new
praetor, who could be more susceptible to Verres’ control, into dropping the
case; moreover, the new year holiday was also likely to impound the current
jury, who were admittedly not friendly to Verres, and thus reducing their
ability to condemn the former governor. Adding to this was the fact that the
courts, as they had been since the time of the early republic, were obliged to
adjourn upon the days in which no legal businesses were allowed (dies nefasti): including the days
devoted to religious ceremonies (feriae),
public games (ludi), and market days
(mundinae).[30] And while
the number of die nefasti might have
declined following the development of the formulary system in the second
century B.C., the end of 70 B.C. also saw a number of holidays, such as the
15-day break from 15 August to celebrate Pompey’s military victories in Spain,
along with multiple Ludi (Romani,
Romania in Cireo, Victoriae, and Plebii) that would stretch across September,
October, and November.[31] The
combination of these factors thus convinced the Verrine faction that they would
soon be able to decisively influence the trial’s outcome; victory was imminent.
However, the developing situation
was also noticed by Cicero, who immediately realised that something drastic
must be done to salvage the situation. When the hearing finally began on 5th
August, almost three months after its supposed date, the orator of Arpinum
changed his tactics. Instead of the long opening speeches followed by witness
testimonies, as was the traditional procedure, Cicero opted for a short speech
that laid upon all of Verres’ crimes as his actio
prima, before immediately bringing in witnesses; this forced Hortensius to
perform cross-examination and answer to his client’s charges before the
mandatory adjournment day (comperendinatio).[32]
Additionally, the use of short speech also left Cicero with enough time to
expose Horatius’ attempts to prolong the case, which in return served to
justify Cicero’s haste and decision to diverge from the traditional process.
The consequences of this decision, in Cowles’ word, was ‘electrical’:[33] The
defendant was caught off guard, their credibility crumbled in the eyes of the
judge and the jury, and they soon found themselves struggling to defend against
the evidence presented by Cicero, who now had popular support from the crowd.
In the end, after a few days of fighting a losing battle, Verres finally
decided to depart for Marseilles, and the rest is history.
In Verrem as historical evidence: Rome in the first century B.C.
Apart from the contemporary legal
elements, some considerations must also be taken on the various social contexts
upon which Verres’ trial was founded, including its relation to what we know
about Rome’s management of its provinces (provincia)
during the time of Cicero. As it was, the term provincia, as opposed to its modern iteration, was not used for the
administrative purpose; rather, it was used to designate an area in which a
Roman magistrate or promagistrate could exercise the right to raise and command
armies (or imperium) following his
election or assignment by the Senate.[34] Originally
used to organise zones of command for the Roman military in its many wars, as
stated by Livy,[35] the
term eventually expanded its definition into whatever areas the republic had
its troops stationed in, including within areas where Rome did not exercise
territorial sovereignty like the Spanish provinces (Hispania Citerior and Hispania
Ulterior) during the Punic Wars in Third Century B.C.; and even in
independent kingdoms such as Macedonia up until its dissolution following the
end of the Third Macedonian War (171–168 B.C.). Though the nature of their
tasks might mean that the governors of the provinciae
had to maintain, at least, a semblance of order within their territories,
it often varies between each provinciae,
depending on factors like the geopolitical situations within the region, the
degree of qualities from the local authorities and their willingness to
cooperate, and most importantly the competency, or its lack thereof, of the
governor in question and the individuals, such as the functionaries (apparitores) and associates (cohors amicorum), who served as his
staffs.[36]
However, while existing evidence suggests that a governor could have his imperium removed by the Senate due to
misconduct, this removal only came after serious military failures that were
the results of the governor’s own decision, such as when M. Aemilius Porcina
was deprived of his imperium over
Hispania Citerior after he disobeyed the Senate and suffered defeats in the war
against the Vaccaei in 136 B.C.;[37] and
although the presence of bodies like quaestio
de repetundis made it possible to charge the governors for their crimes, such
lawsuits could only happen following the end of their tenures and could be
easily quashed.[38]
Consequently, the lack of effective
oversight means that the governors during the late Republican era often had
ample opportunities to illegally accumulate wealth and exercise unlawful powers
during their time in the provinciae;
whilst the cases presented by Cicero in In
Verrem also provide examples of how such practices were conducted. In
particular, the third book of the actio
secunda saw Cicero accusing Verres of manipulating the sale of grain to
acquire extra revenue;[39] this
practice corresponds with those reported by Livy and Tacitus: whereby a
governor can, in the process of acquiring grain for his household (frumentum in cellam or frumentum aestumatum), either force his
suppliers to sell cheap so that he can pocket the rest of the share assigned by
the Senate; or by coercing them into bribing him so that he would buy their
produce.[40] A
certain point in the fifth book also saw Cicero claiming that Verres was
ordering the construction of ships from the Mamertines to be used as personal
merchant fleet;[41] this
charge was a contravention of the Lex
Claudia of 213 B.C. that forbade senators from selling products that were
not from their estates.[42]
Meanwhile, during the process of charging the former governor of colluding with
both local and private Roman tax collectors (publicani), Cicero also provided a brief outline of the taxation
system in the provinces: which included 1) the fixed stipendium; 2) the taxes managed by the Censors as dictated by the Lex Sempronia; and 3), which was a case
unique to Sicily, the tithe on grain.[43] Therefore,
while Cicero’s charges against Verres, which apart from corruption also
included a long list of murders and impious actions, might have been
exaggerated to convince the jury, his accusations nonetheless also reflect the
reality in which the late-republic provinciae
governors could exploit loopholes as a part of their political careers.
Moreover, aside from what it tells
us about political corruption during the last age of the republic, the
credential of the Verrine orations is also supported by the underlying social
tensions that served as the backdrop of the proceeding. At the time of the
trial in 70 B.C., Rome was still recovering from its many conflicts, with the
Jugurthine War (112–106 B.C.) and the first and second Mithridatic Wars being
infamous for requiring a massive amount of resources to suppress, whereas the
widespread provision of Roman citizenships throughout Italy in the aftermath of
the Social War also brings to light the inequalities between different social
classes and communities. But perhaps the most notable struggle was between the
politicians who championed populist causes through land distribution and the tribunate
(populares), and those who sought to
retain the powers with the Senate (optimates),
whose clashes eventually erupted into a full-blown civil war followed by the
severe political repression during the dictatorship of Sulla. An ardent optimate, it was Sulla’s main priority
to suppress the Tribunician powers through any means necessary. Subsequently,
the infamous law of 81 B.C. both abolished the protection of the Tribune while
also allowing the Senate, whose power was now greatly amplified, to serve exclusively
as jurymen; this resulted in the decline in public trust in the justice system
as the subsequent period saw a spike in cases where senators and powerful
individuals could rely on collusion with each other to acquit themselves in
courts.[44] It is
therefore unsurprising that the period following Sulla saw many efforts to
reverse his actions, including the attempt by Lucius Aurelius Cotta, whose Lex Aurelia of 70 B.C. aimed to restore
other representatives of other social classes of Rome (including the equites
and the tribune aerarii) to the jury panel as a means of checking the senators’
powers.[45]
Given its circumstances, it is not
surprising that the court was deeply concerned by the potential consequences
its verdict on the Verres trial could have on its reputation, and it was this
tension that Cicero had employed to his advantage. In his actio prima Cicero began with the appeal to both the court and the
jury, citing the status of the affair as a cause
celebre while also pointing out that it was also the opportunity for them
to ease the public’s doubt and prejudice against their class.[46] This
argument later reappeared at the end of the last book of the actio secunda, with Cicero claiming that
while condemnation of Verres could help restore the Senate’s reputation, the
decision to acquit him could also earn them retribution from the Roman
populace, as ‘it is no less laborious a task to preserve those honours and
kindnesses, conferred on you by the Roman people, than to acquire them.’[47] Hence
Cicero, by offering the court the offer they could not refuse, asked them to
convict Verres and thus indirectly provided support to the changes made by the Lex Aurelia so that it could prevent
future abuse of power; and the jury, who found their safety hanging on the
line, found it easier to comply.
Concluding remarks
In
this essay, I have taken to examine In
Verrem and by extension the rest of the Verrine orations to test the claim
made by some scholars against using Cicero’s speeches as historical evidence;
consequently, what I have observed appears to confirm my initial hypothesis.
Apart from possessing the only surviving evidence of the divinatio in In Caecilium,
the speeches of the trial of Verres contain several valuable pieces of
information about the judicial and administrative dimensions of the late
Republican period which, aside from through works of jurists and historians
like Livy, have very little resources that manage to survive down to us.
Moreover, the analysis of how In Verrem was
constructed could also serve as a testimony of the tumult that was the norm by
the end of the Republic: as it is apparent that Cicero was capitalising on the
feeling of anxiety and resentment in his orations, and the drafts which he had
intended to speak, to influence the actions’ of the jury. These myriads of
benefits thus provide sufficient credentials to the use of In Verrem and other of Cicero’s speeches to interpret the
contemporary social dynamics that, alongside other evidence such as
archeological findings, can help improve what we know about the time they
originate from.
Still, a few words of caution must
be said about the application of In
Verrem and the rest of the Ciceronian material as proof, as they are also
vulnerable to human error. As succinctly summarised by Andrew Lintott,[48] the
works of Cicero – and especially his correspondence – reflect only the truths
in which he saw them, and that such things could change from day to day as the
situations developed; whilst examinations into the veracity of his famous
speeches such as the Catilinarian oration also reveal that he was not beyond
omitting some information, or in some case even fabricate lies, to influence
his speakers into behaving in the ways he wanted.[49] And yet, the
same issue could also be said when it came to our other source-materials of the
period, with those close to the events often not being able to realise the true
extent of their implications, whereas the later interpreters were too concerned
about some factors they believed were responsible and thus discarding the rest
in its entirety.[50]
Moreover, the period before 70 B.C. did not enjoy the richness of evidence
provided by Cicero’s writings, to the point where what we know about the
Jugurthine and Civil Wars in modern days often stem from sporadic works by
antiquarians such as Sallust.[51] Put
simply, the existence of these shortcomings often forces historians to
carefully assess their information to determine what is true, how and for what
purpose was it created, what it tells about the world, and what was its context
which, in the words of Umberto Eco, is much harder than simply judging what is
false.[52] Only
by applying these steps of interpretation can we rise above our prejudice and
thus be able to approach the world for what it is, even if we know what it
should or should not be.
Ultimately, the analysis of In Verrem and its contexts can be
summarised by the old and famous adage: oftentimes you still need to believe in
history, even if it is not true.[53]
*****************************
[1] Cicero,
De Legibus 3. 3. 8.
[2] For
examples of works analysing Cicero’s letters, see J. Hall, Politeness and Politics in Cicero Letters, Oxford 2009; S.
McConnell, Philosophical Life in Cicero’s
Letters, Cambridge 2014; P. White, Cicero
in Letters: Epistolary Relations of the Late Republic, Oxford 2010.
[3] Plutarch,
Parallel Lives 7. 49.
[4] Polybius,
1. 1.
[5] See
J. Campbell, The Hero with a Thousand
Faces, Joseph Campbell Foundation 2008, for an example of works which deal
with comparative mythology.
[6] Aristotle,
Posterior Analytics 71a1.
[7] Polybius
4. 1. 5.
[8] H.
Chisholm, ‘Verres, Gaius’, in Encyclopaedia
Britannica, Cambridge 1911, 1038.
[9] T.
D. Frazel, ‘The composition and circulation of Cicero’s In Verrem’, Classical Quarterly 2004, 54(1):
128–142.
[10] K.
Matier, ‘The Historical, Political and Social Background of Rome at the time of
Cicero as revealed in the In Verrem, Pro Lege Manilia, In Catilinam, Pro Milone,
and Ad Q. Fratem’, Akroterion 1978, https://journals.co.za/doi/pdf/10.10520/AJA03031896_369
[11] A.
M. Santamaria, ‘In Verrem: The Case
That Changed the Course of Jurisprudential History’, Legal Issue J. 2015, 3(99).
[12] W.
Grapel, Sources of the Roman Civil Law:
An introduction to the Institute of Justinian, Cambridge 1857.
[13] G.
Mousourakis, The Historical and
Institutional Context of Roman Law, Routledge 2018.
[14] F.
H. Cowles, Gaius Verres: An Historical
Study, Cornell University Thesis 1917; A. H. J. Greenidge, The Legal Procedure in Cicero’s Time,
Oxford 1901.
[15] J.
A. Crooks, A. Lintott & E Rawson (eds), The
Cambridge Ancient History, Volume 9: The Last Age of the Roman Republic 146–43
B.C., Cambridge 2008.
[16] Grapel,
n. 12, 6.
[17] Mousourakis,
n. 13, 128.
[18] Ibid
149.
[19] Cicero,
De Re Publica, 2. 21.
[20] Cowles,
n. 14, 165.
[21] Mousourakis,
n. 13, 234.
[22] Cowles,
n. 14, 166.
[23] Greenidge,
n. 14, 459.
[24] Ibid.
468.
[25] Cicero,
Div. In Caecilium, 28.
[26] R.
Seager, ‘The Rise of Pompey’, in J. A. Crooks, A. Lintott & E Rawson (eds),
The Cambridge Ancient History, Volume 9:
The Last Age of the Roman Republic 146–43 B.C., Cambridge 2008, 215.
[27] Cowles,
n. 14, 169.
[28] Cicero,
In Verrem, 2. 65.
[29] Cowles,
n. 14, 179.
[30] Mousourakis,
n. 13, 129; Grapel, n. 12, 21.
[31] Cowles,
n. 14, 188.
[32] Frazel,
n. 9, 131.
[33] Cowles,
n. 14, 189.
[34] J.
Richardson, ‘The administration of the empire’, in J. A. Crooks, A. Lintott
& E Rawson (eds), The Cambridge
Ancient History, Volume 9: The Last Age of the Roman Republic 146–43 B.C.,
Cambridge 2008, 564.
[35] Livy
24. 44.
[36] Richardson,
n. 34, 581, 582.
[37] Ibid.
577.
[38] Ibid.
[39] Cicero,
In Verrem, 3. 118.
[40] Richardson,
n. 34, 583.
[41] Cicero,
In Verrem, 5. 18.
[42] Mousourakis,
n. 13, 160.
[43] Cicero,
In Verrem, 3. 12.
[44] Cowles,
n. 14, 164.
[45] Ibid.
[46] Cicero,
In Verrem, Act i. 29.
[47] Ibid.
5. 175.
[48] A.
Lintott, ‘The crisis of the Republic: Sources and source-problems’, in J. A.
Crooks, A. Lintott & E Rawson (eds), The
Cambridge Ancient History, Volume 9: The Last Age of the Roman Republic 146–43
B.C., Cambridge 2008, 2.
[49] Ibid.
[50] Ibid.
3.
[51] Ibid.
6.
[52] U.
Eco, The Limits of Interpretation,
Indiana 1990, 42.
[53] P. Bryant, From Cyrus to Alexander: A History of the Persian Empire, Eisenbraun 2002.
