Hiero had always liked and admired Cicero, whose time in Lilybaeum had been a joy for every Sicilian Greek doing business with Rome’s quaestor, for Cicero was quick, brilliant, innovative when it came to account books and fiscal problems, and a splendid administrator. He had also been liked and admired because he was such a rarity: an honest man.
“We are happy to advance you whatever you need, Marcus Tullius,” said Hiero, “but I think now is a good time to discuss the matter of your fee. We have little to give except cash moneys, and I understand Roman advocates are averse to accepting cash moneys—too easy for the censors to trace. Art works and the like are the customary donatives, I know. But we have nothing left worthy of you.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that!” said Cicero cheerfully. “I know exactly what I want as a fee. I intend to run for plebeian aedile for next year. My games will be adequate, but I cannot compete with the really rich men who are usually aediles. Whereas I can win a great deal of popularity if I distribute cheap grain. Pay me in grain, Hiero—it is the one thing made of gold that springs out of the ground each and every year as a fresh crop. I will buy it from you out of my aedilieian fines, but they won’t run to more than two sesterces the modius. If you guarantee to sell me grain for that price to the amount I require, I will ask no other fee of you. Provided, that is, I win your case.”
“Done!” said Hiero instantly, and turned his attention to making out a draft on his bank for ten talents in Cicero’s name.
*
Marcus and Lucius Cicero were away exactly fifty days, during which time they worked indefatigably gathering their evidence and witnesses. And though the governor, various pirates, the magistrates of Syracuse and Messana (and a few Roman tax—farmers) tried to slow their progress down, there were far more people—some of great influence—interested in speeding them up. While the quaestorian records in Syracuse were either missing or inadequate, the quaestorian records in Lilybaeum yielded mines of evidence. Witnesses came forward, so did accountants and merchants, not to mention grain farmers. Fortune favored Cicero too; when it came time to go home and only four days of the fifty were left, the weather held so perfectly that he, Lucius and all the witnesses and records were able to make the voyage to Ostia in a sleek, light, open boat. They arrived in Rome on the last day of June, with a month left in which to get the case organized.
In the course of that month Cicero stood as a candidate for plebeian aedile as well as working on the lawsuit. How he fitted everything in was afterward a mystery to him; but the truth was that Cicero never functioned better than when his desk was so loaded with work that he could hardly see over the top of it. Decisions flickered like shafts of lightning, everything fell into place, the silver tongue and the golden voice produced wit and wisdom spontaneously, the fine-looking head, so massive and bulbous, struck everyone who saw it as noble, and the striking person who sometimes cowered inside Cicero’s darkest corner was on full display. During the course of that month he even devised a completely new technique for conducting a trial, a technique which would do what so far Roman legal procedures had never managed to do—get an overwhelming mass of hard and damning evidence in front of a jury so quickly and effectively that it left the defense with no defense.
His reappearance from Sicily after what seemed an absence of scant days had Hortensius gasping, especially as gathering a case against the hapless Quintus Curtius had not proven as easy as Hortensius had surmised—even with the willing assistance of Varro Lucullus, Atticus and the city of Athens. However, a moment’s cool reflection served to convince Hortensius that Cicero was bluffing. He couldn’t possibly be ready to go before September at the earliest!
Nor had Cicero found everything in Rome to his satisfaction upon his return. Metellus Little Goat and his youngest brother had put in some excellent work on Cicero’s Sicilian clients, who were now certain that Cicero had lost interest in the case—he had accepted an enormous bribe from Gaius Verres, whispered the Metelli Little Goats through carefully chosen agents. It took Cicero several interviews with Hiero and his colleagues to learn why they were all atwitter. Once he did find out, to allay their fears was not difficult.
Quinctilis brought the three sets of elections, with the curule Centuriate Assembly ones held first. As far as Cicero’s case was concerned, the results were dismal; Hortensius and Metellus Little Goat were next year’s consuls and Marcus Little Goat was successfully returned as one of the praetors. Then came the elections in the Assembly of the People; the fact that Caesar was elected a quaestor at the top of the poll hardly impinged upon Cicero’s consciousness. After which the twenty-seventh day of Quinctilis rolled round, and Cicero found himself elected plebeian aedile together with a Marcus Caesonius (no relation to the Julii with the cognomen of Caesar); they thought they would deal well together, and Cicero was profoundly glad that his colleague was a very wealthy man.
Thanks to the present consuls, Pompey and Crassus, so many things were going on in Rome that summer that elections were of no moment; instead of deliberately puffing them up into the position of prime importance, the electoral officers and the Senate wanted everything to do with elections over and done with. Therefore on the day following the Plebeian Assembly elections—the last of the three—the lots were cast to see what everyone was going to do next year. No surprise whatsoever then that the lots magically bestowed the Extortion Court on Marcus Little Goat! Everything was now set up to exonerate Gaius Verres early in the New Year.
On the last day of Quinctilis, Cicero struck. As no comitia meetings had been scheduled, the urban praetor’s tribunal was open and Lucius Aurelius Cotta in personal attendance. Forth marched Cicero with his clients in tow, announced that he had completely prepared his case against Gaius Verres, and demanded that Lucius Cotta and the president of the Extortion Court, Manius Acilius Glabrio, should schedule a day to begin the trial as soon as they saw fit. Preferably very quickly.
The entire Senate had watched the duel between Cicero and Hortensius with bated breath. The Caecilius Metellus faction was in a minority, and neither Lucius Cotta nor Glabrio belonged to it; in fact, most of the Conscript Fathers were dying to see Cicero beat the system set up by Hortensius and the Metelli Little Goats to get Verres off. Lucius Cotta and Glabrio were therefore delighted to oblige Cicero with the earliest possible hearing.
The first two days of Sextilis were feriae—which did not preclude the hearing of criminal trials—but the third day was more difficult—on it was held the procession of the Crucified Dogs. When the Gauls had invaded Rome and attempted to establish a bridgehead on the Capitol four hundred years earlier, the watchdogs hadn’t barked; what woke the consul Marcus Manlius and enabled him to foil the attempt was the cackling of the sacred geese. Ever since that night, on the anniversary day a solemn cavalcade wound its way around the Circus Maximus. Nine dogs were crucified on nine crosses made of elder wood, and one goose was garlanded and carried on a purple litter to commemorate the treachery of the dogs and the heroism of the geese. Not a good day for a criminal trial, dogs being chthonic animals.
So the case against Gaius Verres was scheduled to begin on the fifth day of Sextilis, in the midst of a Rome stunned by summer and stuffed with visitors agog to see all the special treats Pompey and Crassus had laid on. Stiff competition, but no one made the mistake of thinking that the trial of Gaius Verres would attract no onlookers, even if it continued through Crassus’s public feast and Pompey’s victory games.
Under Sulla’s laws governing his new standing courts the general trial procedure originated by Gaius Servilius Glaucia was preserved, though considerably refined—refined to the detriment of speed. It occurred in two sections, the actio prima and the actio secunda, with a break in between the two actiones of several days, though the court president was at liberty to make the break much longer if he so desired.
The actio prima consisted of a long speech from the chief prosecutor followed by an equally long speech from the chief of the defense, then m
ore long speeches alternating between the prosecution and the defense until all the junior advocates were used up. After that came the prosecution’s witnesses, each one being cross—examined by the defense and perhaps re-examined by the prosecution. If one side or the other filibustered, the hearing of witnesses could become very protracted. Then came the witnesses for the defense, with the prosecution cross—examining each one, and perhaps the defense re-examining. After that came a long debate between the chief prosecutor and the chief defender; these long debates could also occur between each witness if either side desired. The actio prima finally ended with the last speech delivered by the chief defense counsel.
The actio secunda was more or less a repetition of the actio prima, though witnesses were not always called. Here there occurred the greatest and most impassioned orations, for after the concluding speeches of prosecution and defense the jury was required to give its verdict. No time for discussion of this verdict was allowed to the jury, which meant that the verdict was handed down while the jurors still had the words of the chief defense counsel ringing in their ears. This was the principal reason why Cicero loved to defend, hated to prosecute.
But Cicero knew how to win the case against Gaius Verres: all he needed was a court president willing to accommodate him.
“Praetor Manius Acilius Glabrio, president of this court, I wish to conduct my case along different lines than are the custom. What I propose is not illegal. It is novel, that is all. My reasons lie in the extraordinary number of witnesses I will call, and in the equally extraordinary number of different offenses with which I am going to charge the defendant Gaius Verres,” said Cicero. “Is the president of the court willing to listen to an outline of what I propose?’’
Hortensius rushed forward. “What’s this, what’s this?” he demanded. “I ask again, what is this? The case against Gaius Verres must be conducted on the usual lines! I insist!”
“I will listen to what Marcus Tullius Cicero proposes,” said Glabrio, and added gently, “without interruptions.”
“I wish to dispense with the long speeches,” said Cicero, “and concentrate upon one offense at a time. The crimes of Gaius Verres are so many and so varied that it is vital the members of the jury keep each crime straight in their heads. By dealing with one crime at a time, I wish to assist the court in keeping everything straight, that is all. So what I propose to do is briefly to outline one particular crime, then present each of my witnesses plus my evidence to do with that crime. As you see, I intend to work alone—I have absolutely no assistant advocates. The actio prima in the case of Gaius Verres should not contain any long speeches by either the prosecution or the defense. It is a waste of the court’s time, especially in light of the fact that there is at least one more case for this court to hear before this year is ended—that of Quintus Curtius. So I say, let the actio secunda contain all the magnificent speeches! It is only after all the magnificent speeches of the actio secunda have been given that the jury hands down its verdict, so I do not see how my colleague Quintus Hortensius can object to my asking for an actio prima procedure which will enable the jury to listen to our impassioned oratory during the actio secunda as if it had never heard any of what we said before! Because it won’t have heard any of it! Oh, the freshness! The anticipation! The pleasure!”
Hortensius was now looking a little uncertain; there was sound sense in what Cicero was saying. After all, Cicero hadn’t asked for anything which might detract from the defense’s entitlement to the last word, and Hortensius found himself very much liking the idea of being able to deliver his absolute best as a shock of juridical surprise at the end of the actio secunda. Yes, Cicero was right! Get the boring stuff over as quickly as possible in the actio prima, and save the Alexandrian lighthouse stuff for the grand finale.
Thus when Glabrio looked at him enquiringly, Hortensius was able to say smoothly, “Pray ask Marcus Tullius to enlarge further.”
“Enlarge further, Marcus Tullius,” said Glabrio.
“There is little more to say, Manius Acilius. Only that the defending advocates be allowed not one drip more of time to speak than I spend speaking—during the actio prima only, of course! I am willing to concede the defense as much time as they wish during the actio secunda. Since I see a formidable array of defending advocates, whereas I alone staff the prosecution, that will give the defense as much of an advantage as I think they ought to have. I ask only this: that the actio prima be conducted as I have outlined it.”
“The idea has considerable merit, Marcus Tullius,” said Glabrio. “Quintus Hortensius, how do you say?”
“Let it be as Marcus Tullius has outlined,” said Hortensius.
Only Gaius Verres looked worried. “Oh, I wish I knew what he was up to!” he whispered to Metellus Little Goat. “Hortensius ought not to have agreed!”
“By the time the actio secunda comes around, Gaius Verres, I can assure you that the jury will have forgotten everything the witnesses said,” his brother-in-law whispered back.
“Then why is Cicero insisting on these changes?”
“Because he knows he’s going to lose, and he wants to make some sort of splash. How else than by innovation? Caesar used the same tack when he prosecuted the elder Dolabella—insisted on innovations. He got a great deal of praise, but he lost the case. Just as Cicero will. Don’t worry! Hortensius will win!”
*
The only remarks of a general nature Cicero made before he plunged into an outline of the first category of Gaius Verres’s crimes were to do with the jury.
“Remember that the Senate has commissioned our urban praetor, Lucius Aurelius Cotta, to enquire into the composition of juries—and has agreed to recommend his findings to the Assembly of the People to be ratified into law. Between the days of Gaius Gracchus and our Dictator, Lucius Cornelius Sulla, the Senate completely lost control of a hitherto uncontested right—to staff the juries of Rome’s criminal courts. That privilege Gaius Gracchus handed to the knights—and we all know the result of that ! Sulla handed the new standing courts back to the Senate. But as the sixty-four men our censors have expelled have shown, we senators have not honored the trust Sulla reposed in us. Gaius Verres is not the only person on trial here today. The Senate of Rome is also on trial! And if this senatorial jury fails to conduct itself in an honorable and honest way, then who can blame Lucius Cotta if he recommends that jury duty be taken off us Conscript Fathers? Members of this jury, I beseech you not to forget for one moment that you carry an enormous responsibility on your shoulders—and the fate!—and the reputation!—of the Senate of Rome.”
And after that, having neatly confined the defense to the same time span as he used himself, Cicero plunged into hearing his witnesses and presenting his inanimate evidence. One by one they testified: grain thefts to the amount of three hundred thousand modii in just one year from just one small district, let alone the amounts looted from other districts; thefts of property which reduced the farmers of just one district from two hundred and fifty to eighty in three years, let alone the thefts of property from many other districts; embezzlement of the Treasury’s moneys intended for the purchase of grain; usury at twenty-four and more percent; the destruction or alteration of tithe records; the looting of statues and paintings from temples; the dinner guest who in front of his host prised the jewels out of ornamented cups; the dinner guest who on his way out scooped up all the gold and silver plate and popped it in bags the easier to carry it away; the building of a ship free of charge in which to carry back some of his loot to Rome; the condoning of pirate bases and cuts of pirate profits; the overturning of wills; and on, and on, and on.
Cicero had records, documents, wax tablets with the changed figures still visible—and witnesses galore, witnesses who could not be intimidated or discredited during cross—examination. Nor had Cicero produced witnesses to grain thefts within just one district, but within many districts, and the catalogue of works by Praxiteles, Phidias, Polyclitus, Myron, Strongylion and
every other famous sculptor which Verres had looted was supported by bills of “sale” that saw the owner of a Praxiteles Cupid obliged virtually to give it away to Verres. The evidence was massive and absolutely damning. It came like a flood, one category of theft or misuse of authority or exploitation after another for nine full days; the actio prima concluded on the fourteenth day of Sextilis.
Hortensius was shaking when he left the court, but when Verres tried to speak to him he shook his head angrily. “At your place!” he snapped. “And bring your brothers-in-law!”
The house of Gaius Verres lay in the best part of the Palatine; though it was actually one of the biggest properties on that hill, the amount of art crammed into it made it look as small and overcrowded as the yard of a sculptural mason in the Velabrum. Where no statues could stand or paintings hang there were cupboards in which resided vast collections of gold and silver plate, or jewelry, or folded lengths of gloriously worked embroidery and tapestry. Citrus—wood tables of rarest grain supported on pedestals of ivory and gold jostled against gilded chairs or collided with fabulous couches. Outside in the peristyle garden were jammed the bigger statues, mostly bronzes, though gold and silver glittered there too. A clutter representing fifteen years of plundering and many fortunes.
The four men gathered in Verres’s study, no less a jumble, and perched wherever the precious objects allowed them.
“You’ll have to go into voluntary exile,” said Hortensius.
Verres gaped. “You’re joking! There’s the actio secunda still to come! Your speeches will get me off!”
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