A Point of Law(86)
“It’s traditional,” said Scipio, with a shrug in his voice.
“Where is the evidence,” Cato went on, “that Decius Caecilius Metellus the Younger slew Marcus Fulvius, richly though that man deserved it? He spent almost the entirety of that night together with the most illustrious men in Rome, not only the great men of his family, but the distinguished consular Hortensius Hortalus and the estimable Appius Claudius!
“Can it be a matter for wonder that Marcus Fulvius ended up dead? A man like him can number his enemies as an astronomer enumerates the stars! The only cause for wonder is that he could step from his doorway even once without being set upon by the hordes of those he had mortally offended, each of them bent upon revenge and justice! How many aggrieved, cuckolded husbands must have thirsted for his blood? How many fathers of children debauched by Marcus Fulvius must have whetted their daggers in anticipation of that blessed consummation?”
He went on in this vein for some time, making Fulvius sound like a greater menace to Rome than Hannibal had ever been, while I was a savior to compare with Quintus Fabius Maximus Cunctator. It was, as Scipio had intimated, a conventional defense. It was just that Cato was better at the vituperative part than almost anybody. Only Cicero, on one of his best days, could match him.
He ended up with, “Let no tear be shed in Rome for the likes of Marcus Fulvius. Allow the name of this loathsome wretch to be forgotten by all honorable citizens. Let his ashes be entombed in Baiae, along with all the fornicators, whores, and catamites of that accursed city, whose entitlement to Roman citizenship was one of the great moral failings of Roman policy. Let us instead rejoice that we have, and will continue to have, the unstinting, patriotic services of Decius Caecilius Metellus the Younger, a soldier, a statesman, a seeker after justice, a smiter of the wicked and protector of the innocent, whose illustrious ancestors have adorned our city in glory for centuries. Romans, you must find him innocent, even of this crime that was no crime at all!” And with the last word the water clock was empty and the beaker was full.
It was a wonderful performance, and the applause was loud and lasted a long time. Then Manilius rose from his bench and the noise abated. The slave put in the plug, hoisted the beaker and poured the water back into the bronze cylinder of the clock. He set the beaker back under the spout and, at the tribune’s nod, removed the plug again.
“Citizens,” he began, in a voice that was not strident like Cato’s but carried as far, “the illustrious Marcus Porcius Cato has provided us with splendid entertainment but little of substance. As to the constitutionality of this court, it is a favor to the esteemed Senator Metellus that we hold it at all. When the late Marcus Fulvius leveled his charges against the senator, the praetor Marcus Juventius Laterensis scheduled a trial in his court for the next day, in violation of the usual custom. And why was this? Because, as all know, it is election time. Any trial not held now will have to be carried over into next year, with a new set of magistrates in office. That would mean that the senator could not stand for praetor in tomorrow’s election, and would he wish that?”
Voices throughout the crowd proclaimed that this would certainly not be the case. I tried to make out who was saying this, but couldn’t discern much in the sea of faces. Probably Manilius’s clients, I thought, whose duty it was to applaud and repeat their patron’s most telling points. My own would do the same.
“As for the competence of the comitia tribute to try a capital case, that is debatable, but it is not at issue here. Roman justice does not call for the death penalty to be applied against a Roman citizen for the slaying of another, save in very special, narrow circumstances. Citizens,” here his gestures, expression, and tone conveyed great sadness, “the sorry fact is that we have become so accustomed to murder that we are no longer shocked by it. A slaughter that once would have roused the public to fury is now greeted with shrugs and yawns. This, even when the victim is of senatorial status. And who has brought us to such a pass? Why, the senators themselves, who, from being the dispensers of justice, have become the perpetrators of internecine butchery!” Now his voice climbed in high emotion.
“I don’t like the sound of this,” Scipio said behind me. All the others agreed.
“Have we not all seen,” Manilius went on, “how these supposed ‘conscript fathers’ have schemed and conspired against one another for power, prestige, and honor? One after another has trodden upon the bodies of the others to make himself ‘first among equals,’ only to be brought down in his turn. Cneaus Pompeius Magnus”—here he extended a finger toward Pompey—“has inveighed against the violent street gangs and taken action to drive them from Rome. But who was behind those gangs? Were they enriching themselves? Nonsense! Were they advancing the cause of the people? Laughable! No, they were each and every one in the employ of one or another of the little senatorial cliques, of vile, ambitious men who keep their own hands clean while ordering others to do the dirty work!”