The trial had been an added burden to the consul’s load in these desperate weeks. Soon after the accusation against Crassus, there was an attempt to persuade Cicero to implicate Caesar in the conspiracy. The men behind this were Catulus, still indignant at his defeat in the race for the senior priesthood, and Caius Calpurnius Piso, whom Caesar had unsuccessfully prosecuted earlier in the year. Cicero refused to go along with this. He may simply not have believed it, for he probably knew Caesar fairly well, most likely having seen a lot of him in the seventies BC when he was close to the Cotta brothers. Alternatively it could have been expediency, reckoning that it was dangerous to force a man like Caesar into a corner and make him join the revolutionaries. Later, in a work not published until after both Crassus and Caesar were dead, Cicero would write that both had been closely involved with Catiline, but it is not at all clear that this is what he believed at the time, or that he was right. In the dying months of 63 BC, he decided anyway that he would openly trust the loyalty to the Republic of both men, whatever his personal view. After the interrogation of the five key conspirators in the Senate each man was given into the charge of a prominent senator who was to keep him in custody until the Senate had decided their fate. Crassus and Caesar were amongst those selected to perform this task, Cicero very deliberately showing his faith in them in this way. None of this prevented Piso and Catulus from continuing to spread rumours about their personal enemy Caesar.8
The captives were a motley crew. Two, Publius Cornelius Lentulus Sura and Caius Cornelius Cethegus, were amongst the sixty-four senators expelled from the Senate by the censors of 70 BC. Lentulus had been consul in 71 BC and had been steadily rebuilding his public career since his expulsion. In 63 BC he had won the praetorship for the second time, but was stripped of the post following his arrest. He was not the only man to claw his way back to prominence through standing for election again. Cicero’s consular colleague Antonius had also been expelled by the same censors. So had Curius, the man whose mistress Fulvia had persuaded to turn informant (p.128). Lentulus believed firmly in his destiny, continually citing a prophecy that proclaimed that three Cornelii would rule Rome–Sulla, Cinna and soon himself. His wife was a Julia, sister of Lucius Julius Caesar, who had been consul in 64 BC. Her son from an earlier marriage was Mark Antony, then around ten years old. Catiline throughout the rising refused to recruit slaves, preferring to rely on citizens. Lentulus not only argued against this, but did so in writing, in a letter that was subsequently captured and read out in the Senate. All of the conspirators seem to have done their best to incriminate themselves. Most at first met the interrogation with simple denial–Cethegus claiming that the large cache of weapons discovered in his house was simply his collection of antique militaria–but soon caved in when confronted with damning letters sealed with their own seals and written in their own hands. Their guilt was firmly established when they were brought before the Senate on 3 December. Two days later, on the 5th, the House met again to decide on their fate.9
THE GREAT DEBATE
The Senate assembled in the Temple of Concord rather than in the Senate House. This was not unusual, for the House met in a range of temples as well as the Curia itself. The choice of the deity Concordia may have seemed especially appropriate, or even ironic, in the circumstances, but may also have been based on its position at the western edge of the Forum near the slope of the Capitol Hill. This was an easier area to defend for the large numbers of armed men, many of them young equestrians, who attended the consul and took up positions to guard the meeting. Cicero as presiding magistrate would have begun the session with a formal prayer, before addressing the House and asking that it decide what should done to the prisoners. In the past, consuls acting under the senatus consultum ultimum had taken it upon themselves to execute those seen as enemies of the Republic without consulting the Senate. Yet in the main such killings had occurred in the heat of the fighting, when the ‘rebels’ could be seen as posing an active threat. The five conspirators were already under guard, unlike the earlier occasions when the decree had been passed. There were rumours that Cethegus had attempted to communicate with his slaves and arrange for an armed gang to free the prisoners, but even so this could not be presented as a lynching in the heat of the moment. The trial of Rabirius had recently called into question just what actions could be justified by the ultimate decree, and this may have made Cicero particularly cautious. The Senate was not a court, but if a clear consensus of its members approved a course of action then this would add moral force to what the consul did. Cicero declared himself willing to conform to whatever was the Senate’s decision, but clearly believed that the prisoners both deserved and needed to be executed.
There was no fixed order of speaking in the Senate, but there was a hierarchy in the sense that it was customary to call first upon the consuls, then the praetors and so on to the lesser magistrates. The order in which individuals from each group would speak was decided by the presiding magistrate, who called upon them by name. Junior members of the House, especially those who had never held a magistracy, were rarely asked to speak. However, every senator present could vote and, uniquely in Roman voting systems, each vote carried equal weight. When the division was called, senators walked to opposite sides of the house to signify whether they were approving or rejecting the motion. It was common during a debate for those supporting a speaker to move over and sit next to him. The backbenchers, who rarely spoke, but could still vote, were sometimes referred to as pedarii, which roughly translates as ‘walkers’. It had been very noticeable at the meeting on 8 November that when Catiline had taken his seat the senators had quickly moved away, leaving him isolated physically as well as politically.10
On 5 December Cicero began the debate by calling upon Servilia’s husband Silanus to give his opinion. It was usual to seek the opinion of the consuls elect before the former consuls or ‘consulars’, since these men might well have to put into effect measures decided by the House. Silanus declared that the prisoners should suffer ‘the ultimate punishment’, which was interpreted–and clearly intended to mean–execution. Murena was called next and concurred, as did all fourteen ex-consuls present on the day. Crassus was notable by his absence, continuing his somewhat ambiguous behaviour. In contrast Caesar was there and boldly gave his opinion when called upon as praetor elect. Up until now all the speakers had opted for the death penalty, and the murmurs–perhaps louder cries as we do not know how raucous or dignified and sedate meetings of the Senate were–of approval from the rest of the House suggested that this was the near universal view. Caesar, given the doubts expressed about him in recent days, might have been expected to give his vigorous assent as proof of his loyalty to the Republic. Yet not long before he had attacked Rabirius for the illegal killing of Roman citizens, and throughout his career had championed popular causes, criticising the arbitrary use of power by Senate or magistrates. It would have been inconsistent now to express a contrary view, but it seems unlikely that Caesar ever considered this. Standing alone had never bothered him since the days when he had defied Sulla. The aristocracy celebrated men who single-handedly had persuaded the Senate to change its mind. One of the most famous was Appius Claudius Caecus in 278 BC, who was supposed to have convinced the Senate not to negotiate with the victorious Pyrrhus, but to keep fighting. When it was a choice between merging with the crowd and playing a conspicuous role, Caesar always chose the latter. In this case it may well also have been a matter of conscience and genuine belief. Winning fame and doing what he believed to be right were not mutually exclusive.11
The text of Caesar’s speech has not survived, but Sallust gives a version that appears to reflect the key arguments, even if it does so in Sallustian style and probably at rather shorter length. As with any written speech, it is hard now to conjure up the full impact of the orator speaking these words before an audience. Caesar was praised for gestures, the elegance and forcefulness of his stance and bearing, and the tones of his slightly high-pit
ched voice. In Sallust’s version the great performance began with these words:
Chosen fathers of the Senate, all men who decide on difficult issues ought to free themselves from the influence of hatred, friendship, anger and pity. For when these intervene the mind cannot readily judge the truth, and no one has ever served his emotions and his best interests simultaneously. When you set your mind to a task, it prevails; if passion holds sway, it consumes you, and the mind can do nothing.12
Throughout the speech he was calm and sweetly reasonable, and he gently mocked the previous speakers who had tried to outdo each other with graphic descriptions of the slaughter, rape and pillage that would have followed Catiline’s victory. There was never a trace of the man who had grabbed Juba’s beard in his rage. The guilt of the accused was unquestioned, and no punishment could possibly be too harsh for them. Yet, returning to his opening theme, the Senate held too responsible a position to permit its members to give in to their emotions. They must decide what was best for the future of the Republic, knowing that they would set a precedent today. Caesar carefully paid tribute to Cicero by declaring that no one could ever suspect that the current consul would abuse his position. What they could not guarantee was that all future office holders would always be so restrained. He reminded them of how Sulla’s proscriptions had begun with a few deaths of men who were generally thought guilty. Soon the slaughter had escalated into an appalling bloodbath, with victims being killed for ‘their town houses or villas’.13
For Caesar the death penalty was unRoman (although, of course, the recent perduellio trial with its archaic procedure had threatened its use). He gently chided Silanus, praising him for his patriotism, but suggesting that he had become carried away by the enormity of the prisoners’ crimes. Under normal circumstances Roman citizens–at least well to do citizens-were always permitted to go into exile if found guilty of a serious offence, making the death penalty effectively a theoretical punishment unknown in practice. Caesar wondered why Silanus had not also suggested that the men be flogged before they were killed, answering his own question by saying that of course such a thing was illegal. He praised the wisdom of their ancestors, the past generations of senators who had systematically removed the death penalty and other brutal punishments in regard to citizens. Anyway, death was ‘release from woes, rather than a punishment … it brings an end to the ill fortune of life and leaves no place for worry or joy’.14 Caesar’s solution was different. It would obviously have been absurd to let the men go so that they could join Catiline. Rome had no real prison intended to keep prisoners for long periods of time, for most laws carried either fines or exile as punishment. Caesar proposed that the prisoners be given into the hands of different Italian towns, who would be bound to hold them in captivity for the rest of their lives. Any town failing in its charge was to suffer a heavy penalty. The men’s property was to be confiscated by the State, effectively blocking their children from going into public life and seeking revenge. It was also to be decreed that neither the Senate nor People should ever consider permitting the conspirators to be recalled, in the way that Caesar himself had campaigned for the return of Lepidus’ supporters. This, according to him, was a far harsher penalty than death, since it would make the conspirators live with the consequences of their crimes.15
During the speech Caesar appealed to the example of past generations. This was conventional, for the Roman aristocracy had a great reverence for their ancestors, children listening from an early age to stories of their great deeds on behalf of the Republic. Yet the proposal he was making was both radical and innovative. Never before had the Romans held citizens in permanent captivity–hence the need to create a new method to do this. Although he stipulated that it should be unlawful for anyone to seek the release and restoration of the condemned, it was questionable that such a provision could be enforced. The Gracchi and other tribunes had repeatedly asserted the right of the Popular Assembly to vote on any issue. Whether anyone was ever likely to espouse the cause of the conspirators was questionable, but this could certainly not be ruled out altogether. The problem facing the Senate was a new one, for never in the history of the ultimate decree had it been a question of using its powers calmly against men already held in custody. Caesar had spoken about the precedent that the Senate would set by its decision and he now proposed a new solution to what was in many ways a new problem. It was intended to avoid the recriminations that had followed the suppression of the Gracchi and of Saturninus. The conspirators were guilty of planning appalling crimes, but even so they should not be stripped of all the rights of citizens. They were no longer in a position to harm the Republic and imprisonment would ensure that they would never be able to do so in the future.16
Throughout his speech Caesar was calm and measured, always rational as he appealed to the senators not to let their emotions overrule their duty to the Republic. Such a call to place Rome before their own feelings was bound to appeal to men raised with such a strong sense of the obligations inherent in belonging to one of the great families. The certainty that had marked the start of the meeting began to crack, and then crumble away. Quintus Tullius Cicero, the consul’s younger brother, was another of the praetor designates and spoke after Caesar, fully agreeing with his viewpoint. He may well, in the conventions of the Senate, have moved to sit with Caesar as an indication of this. Another of the praetors for 62 BC, Tiberius Claudius Nero–the grandfather of Emperor Tiberius–took a slightly different tack, suggesting that it was too early to decide on the prisoners’ fate while Catiline was still at large with an army. Instead, they should be held in custody and a future date fixed for another debate, which would decide their fate.17 Many others were wavering. At some point Silanus spoke up claiming that he had been misinterpreted and had not advocated the death penalty at all, but the ‘ultimate punishment’ permitted by the law. Such vacillation seems to have been typical of a man who clearly did not want to be seen as responsible for anything controversial.
Cicero, seeing the earlier consensus slipping away, decided to act, and at this point delivered a long speech, the text of which he subsequently published as the Fourth Catilinarian Oration. Given that the original must have been at least partially composed during the debate itself, it was probably a little less polished than the version we have today. However, it would be a mistake to underestimate the rhetorical training and skill of the great orator, and it is likely that even speaking off the cuff, Cicero’s use of language, rhythm and structure were of an exceptionally high order. He made sure from the beginning that everyone was reminded that he was consul, the man leading the Republic at this time of crisis and also, ultimately, the one who would carry the responsibility for whatever action they decided to take. Reviving the tone of the earlier debate, before Caesar’s restrained and reasonable intervention, he spoke of slaughter, rape and the sacking of temples:
Take thought for yourselves, therefore, gentlemen; look to the preservation of your fatherland, save yourselves, your wives, your children and your fortunes, defend the name of the Roman people and their very existence; stop protecting me and cease your concern for me. Firstly, I am bound to hope that all the gods which watch over this city will recompense me as I deserve; and secondly, if anything happens to me, I shall die calm and resigned.18
He turned to the two proposals, that of Silanus, which he continued to interpret as meaning execution, and that of Caesar. The first punishment accorded with tradition–Cicero mentioning the Gracchi and Saturninus whom he claimed had been killed for far lesser crimes–the second was unprecedented and impractical. How, Cicero asked, were the towns tasked with guarding the prisoners to be chosen? It seemed unfair for the Senate to choose them, but could communities be expected to come forward of their own free will? Yet he did not challenge the severity of Caesar’s proposal, emphasising that life imprisonment and confiscation of all property were in many ways more savage punishments than a swift death.
Cicero was also studiously polite to Caesar
himself, who had demonstrated by his speech and actions his ‘devotion to the Republic’. He contrasted him, a genuine ‘popularis with the good of the people at heart’, with other rabble-rousing demagogues. At this point there was a sly dig at Crassus, when he noted that ‘one who posed as a popularis’ was absent, ‘presumably so he did not have to vote on whether or not to kill Roman citizens’. Crassus-still unnamed, but there could be no doubt over his identity–had in the last two days taken charge of one of the prisoners, voted a public thanksgiving to Cicero and approved the rewards granted to informers. Then he tried to use Caesar’s very presence to weaken his argument. If he accepted that it was proper for the Senate to pass judgement on the conspirators at all, then he must have acknowledged that they had in fact ceased to be citizens, and so lost all protection of law. If the Senate chose his proposal, Cicero knew that Caesar’s personal popularity would make it easier for them to persuade the crowd gathered in the Forum that this was just. Yet he also claimed to be convinced that the wisdom of the people would allow them to accept the necessity of executing the prisoners. This led him back to the enormity of their crimes and ‘how he trembled at the vision of mothers crying, girls and boys fleeing, and the rape of Vestal Virgins’.19 He reassured them of the precautions he had taken to protect this meeting and defend the city, making it clear that they were free to do what they thought right. As consul, he was willing to take on himself the consequences of their decision and any stigma or hatred that the executions might bring in the future. He would personally pay any price to serve the Republic.
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