วันอาทิตย์ที่ 19 กุมภาพันธ์ พ.ศ. 2566

Analysis into Cicero’s In Verrem by Panwa Nilprapunt

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] 

 

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[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. 

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