Every man, O judges, who, without being prompted by any enmity, or stung by any
private injury, or tempted by any reward, prosecutes another for the good of the
republic, ought to consider, not only how great a burden he is liking upon himself
at the time, but also how much trouble he is courting for the remainder of his life. For he imposes on himself a law of innocence, of
moderation, and of all virtues, who demands from another an account of his life; and
he does so the more if, as I said before, he does this being urges by no other
motive except a desire for the common good.
For if any one assumes to himself to correct the manners of others, and to reprove their faults, who will pardon him, if he himself turn aside in any particular from the strict line of duty? Wherefore, a citizen of this sort is the more to he praised and beloved by all men for this reason also,—that he does not only remove a worthless citizen from the republic, but he also promises and binds himself to be such a man as to be compelled, not only by an ordinary inclination to virtue and duty, but by even some more unavoidable principle, to live virtuously and honourably.
And, therefore, O judges, that most illustrious and most eloquent man, Lucius Crassus, was often heard to say that he did not repent of anything so much as having ever proceeded against Caius Carbo: for by so doing he had his inclination as to everything less uncontrolled, and he thought, too, that his way of life was remarked by more people than he liked. And he, fortified as he was by the protection of his own genius and fortune, was yet hampered by this anxiety which he had brought upon himself, before his judgment was fully formed, at his entrance into life; on which account virtue and integrity is less, looked for from those who undertake this business as young men, than from those who do so at a riper age; for they, for the sake of credit and ostentation, become accusers of others before they have had time to take notice how much more free the life of those who have accused no one is. We who have already shown both what we could do, and what judgment we had, unless we could easily restrain our desires, should never, of our own accord, deprive ourselves of all liberty and freedom in our way of life.
And I have a greater burden on me than those who have accused other men, (if that deserve to be called a burden which you bear with pleasure and delight,)—but still I have in one respect undertaken a greater burden than others who have done the same thing, because all men are required to abstain most especially from those vices for which they have reproved another. Have you accused any thief or rapacious man? You must for ever avoid all suspicion of avarice. Have you prosecuted any spiteful or cruel man? You must for ever take care not to appear in any matter the least harsh or severe. A seducer? an adulterer? You must, take care most diligently that no trace of licentiousness be ever seen in your conduct. In short, everything which you have impeached in another must be earnestly avoided by you your self. In truth, not only no accuser, but no reprover even can be endured, who is himself detected in the vice which he reproves in another.
I, in the case of one man, am finding fault with every vice which can exist in a wicked and abandoned man. I say that there is no indication of lust, of wickedness, of audacity, which you cannot see clearly in the life of that one man. In the case of this criminal, I, O judges, establish this law against myself; that I must so live as to appear to be, and always to have been, utterly unlike that man, not only in all my actions and words, but even in that arrogance and haughtiness of countenance and eyes which you see before you. I will bear without uneasiness, O judges, that that course of life which was previously agreeable to me of my own accord, shall now, by the law and conditions I hare laid down for myself, become necessary for me.
And in the case of this man you often, O Hortensius, are asking me, under the
pressure of what enmity or what injury I have come forward to accuse him. I omit all
mention of my duty, and of my connection with the Sicilians; I answer you as to the
point of enmity. Do you think there is any greater enmity than that arising from the
opposite opinions of men, and the contrariety of their wishes and inclinations? Can
he who thinks good faith the holiest thing in life avoid being an enemy to that man
who, as quaestor, dared to despoil, to desert, to betray, and to attack his consul,
whose counsels he had shared, whose money he had received, with all whose business
affairs he had been entrusted? Can he who reverences modesty and chastity behold
with equanimity the daily adulteries, the dissolute manners of that man, the
domestic pandering to his passions? Can he who wishes to pay due honours to the
immortal gods, by any means avoid being an enemy to that man who has plundered all
the temples, who has dared to commit his robberies even on the track of the wheels
of the sacred car?
Or if he had in any particular made a decree contrary to my interest unjustly,
would you then think that I was fairly an enemy to him; but now that he has acted
contrary to the interests, and property, and advantage, and inclination, and welfare
of all good men, do you ask why I am an enemy to a man towards whom the whole Roman
people is hostile? I, who above all other men ought to undertake, to gratify the
desires of the Roman people, even a greater burden and duty than my strength perhaps
is equal to.
You are fond of Verres: I suppose so. If you are not gratified with his virtue, and his innocence, and his industry, and his modesty, and his chastity, at least you are transported at his conversation, his accomplishments, and his high breeding. He has no such gifts; but, on the contrary, all his qualities are stained with the most extreme disgrace and infamy, with most extraordinary stupidity and boorishness. If any man's house is open to this man, do you think it is open, or rather that it is yawning and begging something? He is a favourite of your factors, of your valets. Your freedmen, your slaves, your housemaids, are in love with him. He, when he calls, is introduced out of his turn; he alone is admitted, while others, often most virtuous men, are excluded. From which it is very easily understood that those people are the most dear to you who have lived in such a manner that without your protection they cannot be safe.
What? do you think this can be endurable to any one,—that we should live on slender incomes in such a way as not even to wish to acquire anything more; that we should be content with maintaining our dignity, and the goodwill of the Roman people, not by wealth, but by virtue; but that that man having robbed every one on all sides, and having escaped with impunity, should live, in prosperity and abundance? that all your banquets should be decorated with his plate, your forum and hall of assembly with his statues and pictures? especially when, through your own valour, you are rich in all such trophies? That it should be Verres who adorns your villas with his spoils? That it should be Verres who is vying with Lucius Mummius: so that the one appears to have laid waste more cities of the allies, than the other overthrew belonging to the enemy? That the one, unassisted, seems to have adorned more villas with the decorations of temples, than the other decorated-temples with the spoils of the enemy? And shall he be dearer to you, in order that others may more willingly become subservient to your covetousness at their own risk?
But these topics shall be mentioned at another time, and they have already been mentioned elsewhere. Let us proceed to the other matters, after we have in a few words, O judges, begged your favourable construction. All through our former speech we had your attention very carefully given to us. It was very pleasing to us; but it will be far more pleasing, if you will be so kind as to attend to what follows; because in all the things which were said before, there was some pleasure arising from the very variety and novelty of the subjects and of the charges. Now we are going to discuss the affair of corn; which indeed in the greatness of the iniquity exceeds nearly all the other charges, but will have far less variety and agreeableness in the discussion. But it is quite worthy of your authority and wisdom, O judges, in the matter of careful hearing, to give no less weight to conscientiousness in the discharge of your duties, than to pleasure.
I, inquiring into this charge respecting the corn, keep this in view, O judges,
that you are going to inquire into the estates and fortunes of all the
Sicilians—into the property of all the Roman citizens who cultivate land in
The case, O judges, will be divided under three heads in my accusation: for,
first, I shall speak of the collectors of the tenths; secondly, of the corn which
has been bought; thirdly, of that which has been valued.