A GREAT CONSPIRACY.
Sergius Catiline belonged to an ancient family which had fallen into
poverty. In the evil days of Sulla, when the nobles recovered the power
which they had lost, and plundered and murdered their adversaries, he
had shown himself as cruel and as wicked as any of his fellows. Like
many others he had satisfied grudges of his own under pretense of
serving his party, and had actually killed his brother-in-law with his
own hand. These evil deeds and his private character, which was of the
very worst, did not hinder him from rising to high offices in the State.
He was made first aedile, then praetor, then governor of Africa, a
province covering the region which now bears the names of Tripoli and
Tunis. At the end of his year of government he returned to Rome,
intending to become a candidate for the consulship. In this he met with
a great disappointment. He was indicted for misgovernment in his
province, and as the law did not permit any one who had such a charge
hanging over him to stand for any public office, he was compelled to
retire. But he soon found, or fancied that he had found, an opportunity
of revenging himself. The two new consuls were found guilty of bribery,
and were compelled to resign. One of them, enraged at his disgrace, made
common cause with Catiline. A plot, in which not a few powerful citizens
were afterwards suspected with more or less reason of having joined, was
formed. It was arranged that the consuls should be assassinated on the
first day of the new year; the day, that is, on which they were to enter
on their office. But a rumor of some impending danger got about; on the
appointed day the new consuls appeared with a sufficient escort, and the
conspirators agreed to postpone the execution of their scheme till an
early day in February. This time the secret was better kept, but the
impatience of Catiline hindered the plot from being carried out. It had
been arranged that he should take his place in front of the
senate-house, and give to the hired band of assassins the signal to
begin. This signal he gave before the whole number was assembled. The
few that were present had not the courage to act, and the opportunity
was lost.
The trial for misgovernment ended in an acquittal, purchased, it was
said, by large bribes given to the jurymen and even to the prosecutor, a
certain Clodius, of whom we shall hear again, and shall find to have
been not one whit better than Catiline himself. A second trial, this
time for misdeeds committed in the days of Sulla, ended in the same way.
Catiline now resolved on following another course of action. He would
take up the character of a friend of the people. He had the advantage of
being a noble, for men thought that he was honest when they saw him thus
turn against his own order, and, as it seemed, against his own
interests. And indeed there was much that he could say, and say with
perfect truth, against the nobles. They were corrupt and profligate
beyond all bearing. They sat on juries and gave false verdicts for
money. They went out to govern provinces, showed themselves horribly
cruel and greedy, and then came home to be acquitted by men who had done
or hoped to do the very same things themselves. People listened to
Catiline when he spoke against such doings, without remembering that he
was just as bad himself. He had too, just the reputation for strength
and courage that was likely to make him popular. He had never been a
soldier, but he was known to be very brave, and he had a remarkable
power of enduring cold and hunger and hardships of every kind. On the
strength of the favor which he thus gained, he stood again for the
consulship. In anticipation of being elected, he gathered a number of
men about him, unsuccessful and discontented like himself, and unfolded
his plans. All debts were to be wiped out, and wealthy citizens were to
be put to death and their property to be divided. It was hoped that the
consuls at home, and two at least of the armies in the provinces, would
support the movement. The first failure was that Catiline was not
elected consul, Cicero being chosen unanimously, with Antonius, who had
a small majority over Catiline, for his colleague. Enraged at his want
of success, the latter now proceeded to greater lengths than ever. He
actually raised troops in various parts of Italy, but especially in
Etruria, which one Manlius, an old officer in Sulla's army, commanded.
He then again became a candidate for the consulship, resolving first to
get rid of Cicero, who, he found, met and thwarted him at every turn.
Happily for Rome these designs were discovered through the weakness of
one of his associates. This man told the secret to a lady, with whom he
was in love, and the lady, dismayed at the boldness and wickedness of
the plan, communicated all she knew to Cicero.
Not knowing that he was thus betrayed, Catiline set about ridding
himself of his great antagonist. Nor did the task seem difficult. The
hours both of business and of pleasure in Rome were what we should think
inconveniently early. Thus a Roman noble or statesman would receive in
the first hours of the morning the calls of ceremony or friendship which
it is our custom to pay in the afternoon. It would sometimes happen that
early visitors would find the great man not yet risen. In these cases he
would often receive them in bed. This was probably the habit of Cicero,
a courteous, kindly man, always anxious to be popular, and therefore
easy of access. On this habit the conspirators counted. Two of their
number, one of them a knight, the other a senator, presented themselves
at his door shortly after sunrise on the seventh of November. They
reckoned on finding him, not in the great hall of his mansion,
surrounded by friends and dependents, but in his bed-chamber. But the
consul had received warning of their coming, and they were refused
admittance. The next day he called a meeting of the Senate in the temple
of Jupiter the Stayer, which was supposed to be the safest place where
they could assemble.
To this meeting Catiline, a member in right of having filled high
offices of state, himself ventured to come. A tall, stalwart man,
manifestly of great power of body and mind, but with a face pale and
wasted by excess, and his eyes haggard and bloodshot, he sat alone in
the midst of a crowded house. No man had greeted him when he entered,
and when he took his place on the benches allotted to senators who had
filled the office of consul, all shrank from him. Then Cicero rose in
his place. He turned directly and addressed his adversary. "How long,
Catiline," he cried, "will you abuse our patience?" How had he dared to
come to that meeting? Was it not enough for him to know how all the city
was on its guard against him; how his fellow-senators shrank from him as
men shrink from a pestilence? If he was still alive, he owed it to the
forbearance of those against whom he plotted; and this forbearance would
last so long, and so long only, as to allow every one to be convinced of
his guilt. For the present, he was suffered to live, but to live guarded
and watched and incapable of mischief. Then the speaker related every
detail of the conspiracy. He knew not only every thing that the
accomplices had intended to do, but the very days that had been fixed
for doing it. Overwhelmed by this knowledge of his plans, Catiline
scarcely attempted a defense. He said in a humble voice, "Do not think,
Fathers, that I, a noble of Rome, I who have done myself, whose
ancestors have done much good to this city, wish to see it in ruins,
while this consul, a mere lodger in the place, would save it." He would
have said more, but the whole assembly burst into cries of "Traitor!
Traitor!" and drowned his voice. "My enemies," he cried, "are driving
me to destruction. But look! if you set my house on fire, I will put it
out with a general ruin." And he rushed out of the Senate.
Nothing, he saw, could be done in Rome; every point was guarded against
him. Late that same night he left the city, committing the management of
affairs to Cethegus and Lentulus, and promising to return before long
with an army at his back. Halting awhile on his road, he wrote letters
to some of the chief senators, in which he declared that for the sake of
the public peace he should give up the struggle with his enemies and
quietly retire to Marseilles. What he really did was to make his way to
the camp of Manlius, where he assumed the usual state of a regular
military command. The Senate, on hearing of these doings, declared him
to be an outlaw. The consuls were to raise an army; Antonius was to
march against the enemy, and Cicero to protect the city.
Meanwhile the conspirators left behind in Rome had been busy. One of
the tribes of Gaul had sent deputies to the Capitol to obtain redress
for injuries of which they complained. The men had effected little or
nothing. The Senate neglected them. The help of officials could only be
purchased by heavy bribes. They were now heavily in debt both on their
own account and on account of their state, and Lentulus conceived the
idea of taking advantage of their needs. One of his freedmen, who had
been a trader in Gaul, could speak the language, and knew several of the
deputies, opened negotiations with them by his patron's desire. They
told him the tale of their wrongs. They could see, they said, no way out
of their difficulties. "Behave like men," he answered, "and I will show
you a way." He then revealed to them the existence of the conspiracy,
explained its objects, and enlarged upon the hopes of success. While he
and his friends were busy at Rome, they were to return to Gaul and rouse
their fellow-tribesmen to revolt. There was something tempting in the
offer, and the deputies doubted long whether they should not accept it.
In the end prudence prevailed. To join the conspiracy and to rebel
would be to run a terrible risk for very doubtful advantages. On the
other hand they might make sure of a speedy reward by telling all they
knew to the authorities. This was the course on which they resolved, and
they went without loss of time to a Roman noble who was the hereditary
"patron" of their tribe. The patron in his turn communicated the
intelligence to Cicero. Cicero's instructions were that the deputies
should pretend to agree to the proposals which had been made to them,
and should ask for a written agreement which they might show to their
countrymen at home. An agreement was drawn up, signed by Lentulus and
two of his fellow-conspirators, and handed over to the Gauls, who now
made preparations to return to their country. Cicero himself tells us in
the speech which he delivered next day in the Forum the story of what
followed.
"I summoned to my presence two of the praetors on whose courage I knew I
could rely, put the whole matter before them, and unfolded my own plans.
As it grew dusk they made their way unobserved to the Mulvian Bridge,
and posted themselves with their attendants (they had some trusty
followers of their own, and I had sent a number of picked swordsmen from
my own body-guard), in two divisions in houses on either side of the
bridge. About two o'clock in the morning the Gauls and their train,
which was very numerous, began to cross the bridge. Our men charged
them; swords were drawn on both sides; but before any blood was shed the
praetors appeared on the scene, and all was quiet. The Gauls handed over
to them the letters which they had upon them with their seals unbroken.
These and the deputies themselves were brought to my house. The day was
now beginning to dawn. Immediately I sent for the four men whom I knew
to be the principal conspirators. They came suspecting nothing,
Lentulus, who had been up late the night before writing the letters,
being the last to present himself. Some distinguished persons who had
assembled at my house wished me to open the letters before laying them
before the Senate. If their contents were not what I suspected I should
be blamed for having given a great deal of trouble to no purpose. I
refused in so important a matter to act on my own responsibility. No
one, I was sure, would accuse me of being too careful when the safety of
Rome was at stake. I called a meeting of the Senate, and took care that
the attendance should be very large. Meanwhile, at the suggestion of the
Gauls, I sent a praetor to the house of Cethegus to seize all the
weapons that he could find. He brought away a great number of daggers
and swords.
"The Senate being now assembled, I brought Vulturcius, one of the
conspirators, into the House, promised him a public pardon, and bade him
tell all he knew without fear. As soon as the man could speak, for he
was terribly frightened, he said, 'I was taking a letter and a message
from Lentulus to Catiline. Catiline was instructed to bring his forces
up to the walls of the city. They meanwhile would set it on fire in
various quarters, as had been arranged, and begin a general massacre. He
was to intercept the fugitives, and thus effect a junction with his
friends within the walls.' I next brought the Gauls into the House.
Their story was as follows. 'Lentulus and two of his companions gave us
letters to our nation. We were instructed to send our cavalry into Italy
with all speed. They would find a force of infantry. Lentulus told us
how he had learned from Sibylline books that he was that "third
Cornelius" who was the fated ruler of Rome. The two that had gone before
him were Cicero and Sulla. The year too was the one which was destined
to see the ruin of the city, for it was the tenth after the acquittal of
the Vestal Virgins, the twentieth after the burning of the Capitol.
After this Cethegus and the others had a dispute about the time for
setting the city on fire. Lentulus and others wished to have it done on
the feast of Saturn (December 17th). Cethegus thought that this was
putting it off too long.' I then had the letter brought in. First I
showed Cethegus his seal. He acknowledged it. I cut the string. I read
the letter. It was written in his own handwriting and was to this
effect: he assured the Senate and people of the Gauls that he would do
what he had promised to their deputies, and begged them on the other
hand to perform what their deputies had undertaken. Cethegus, who had
accounted for the weapons found in his house by declaring that he had
always been a connoisseur in such things, was overwhelmed by hearing his
letter read, and said nothing.
"Manlius next acknowledged his seal and handwriting. A letter from him
much to the same effect was read. He confessed his guilt. I then showed
Lentulus his letter, and asked him, 'Do you acknowledge the seal?' 'I
do,' he answered. 'Yes,' said I, 'it is a well-known device, the
likeness of a great patriot, your grandfather. The mere sight of it
ought to have kept you from such a crime as this.' His letter was then
read. I then asked him whether he had any explanation to give. 'I have
nothing to say,' was his first answer. After a while he rose and put
some questions to the Gauls. They answered him without any hesitation,
and asked him in reply whether he had not spoken to them about the
Sibylline books. What followed was the strangest proof of the power of
conscience. He might have denied every thing, but he did what no one
expected, he confessed; all his abilities, all his power of speech
deserted him. Vulturcius then begged that the letter which he was
carrying from Lentulus to Catiline should be brought in and opened.
Lentulus was greatly agitated; still he acknowledged the seal and the
handwriting to be his. The letter, which was unsigned, was in these
words: _You will know who I am by the messenger whom I send to you. Bear
yourself as a man. Think of the position in which you now are, and
consider what you must now do. Collect all the help you can, even though
it be of the meanest kind._ In a word, the case was made out against
them all not only by the seals, the letters, the handwritings, but by
the faces of the men, their downcast look, their silence. Their
confusion, their stealthy looks at each other were enough, if there had
been no other proof, to convict them."
Lentulus was compelled to resign his office of praetor. He and the other
conspirators were handed over to certain of the chief citizens, who were
bound to keep them in safe custody and to produce them when they were
called for.
The lower orders of the capital, to whom Catiline and his companions
had made liberal promises, and who regarded his plans, or what were
supposed to be his plans, with considerable favor, were greatly moved by
Cicero's account of what had been discovered. No one could expect to
profit by conflagration and massacre; and they were disposed to take
sides with the party of order. Still there were elements of danger, as
there always are in great cities. It was known that a determined effort
would be made by the clients of Lentulus, whose family was one of the
noblest and wealthiest in Rome, to rescue him from custody. At the same
time several of the most powerful nobles were strongly suspected of
favoring the revolutionists. Crassus, in particular, the wealthiest man
in Rome, was openly charged with complicity. A certain Tarquinius was
brought before the Senate, having been, it was said, arrested when
actually on his way to Catiline. Charged to tell all he knew, he gave
the same account as had been given by other witnesses of the
preparations for fire and massacre, and added that he was the bearer of
a special message from Crassus to Catiline, to the effect that he was
not to be alarmed by the arrest of Lentulus and the others; only he must
march upon the city without delay, and so rescue the prisoners and
restore the courage of those who were still at large. The charge seemed
incredible to most of those who heard it. Crassus had too much at stake
to risk himself in such perilous ventures. Those who believed it were
afraid to press it against so powerful a citizen; and there were many
who were under too great obligations to the accused to allow it,
whatever its truth or falsehood, to be insisted upon. The Senate
resolved that the charge was false, and that its author should be kept
in custody till he disclosed at whose suggestion he had come forward.
Crassus himself believed that the consul had himself contrived the whole
business, with the object of making it impossible for him to take the
part of the accused. "He complained to me," says Sallust the historian,
"of the great insult which had thus been put upon him by Cicero.".
Under these circumstances Cicero determined to act with vigor. On the
fifth of December he called a meeting of the Senate, and put it to the
House what should be done with the prisoners in custody. The consul
elect gave his opinion that they should be put to death. Caesar, when
his turn came to speak, rose and addressed the Senate. He did not seek
to defend the accused. They deserved any punishment. Because that was
so, let them be dealt with according to law. And the law was that no
Roman citizen could suffer death except by a general decree of the
people. If any other course should be taken, men would afterwards
remember not their crimes but the severity with which they had been
treated. Cato followed, giving his voice for the punishment of death;
and Cicero took the same side. The Senate, without dividing, voted that
the prisoners were traitors, and must pay the usual penalty.
The consul still feared that a rescue might be attempted. He directed
the officials to make all necessary preparations, and himself conducted
Lentulus to prison, the other criminals being put into the charge of the
praetors. The prison itself was strongly guarded. In this building,
which was situated under the eastern side of the Capitoline Hill, was a
pit twelve feet deep, said to have been constructed by King Tullius. It
had stone walls and a vaulted stone roof; it was quite dark, and the
stench and filth of the place were hideous. Lentulus was hurried into
this noisome den, where the executioners strangled him. His accomplices
suffered the same fate. The consul was escorted to his house by an
enthusiastic crowd. When he was asked how it had fared with the
condemned, he answered with the significant words "THEY HAVE LIVED."
The chief conspirator died in a less ignoble fashion. He had contrived
to collect about twelve thousand men; but only a fourth part of these
were regularly armed; the rest carried hunting spears, pikes, sharpened
stakes, any weapon that came to hand. At first he avoided an engagement,
hoping to hear news of something accomplished for his cause by the
friends whom he had left behind him in Rome. When the news of what had
happened on the fifth of December reached him, he saw that his position
was desperate. Many who had joined the ranks took the first opportunity
of deserting; with those that remained faithful he made a hurried march
to the north-west, hoping to make his way across the Apennines into
Hither Gaul. But he found a force ready to bar his way, while Antonius,
with the army from Rome, was pressing him from the south. Nothing
remained for him but to give battle. Early in the year 62 B.C. the
armies met. The rebel leader showed himself that day at his best. No
soldier could have been braver, no general more skillful. But the forces
arrayed against him were overpowering. When he saw that all was lost, he
rushed into the thickest of the fight, and fell pierced with wounds. He
was found afterwards far in advance of his men, still breathing and with
the same haughty expression on his face which had distinguished him in
life. And such was the contagious force of his example that not a single
free man of all his followers was taken alive either in the battle or in
the pursuit that followed it. Such was the end of a GREAT CONSPIRACY.