A little while ago, O judges, we did not restrain our tears at the miserable and most unworthy death of the naval captains; and it was right for us to be moved at the misery of our innocent allies; what now ought we to do when the lives of our relations are concerned? For the blood of all Roman citizens ought to be accounted kindred blood; since the consideration of the common safety, and truth requires it. All the Roman citizens in this place, both those who are present, and those who are absent in distant lands, require your severity, implore the aid of your good faith, look anxiously for your assistance. They think that all their privileges, all their advantages, all their defences, in short their whole liberty, depends on your sentence.
From me, although they have already had aid enough, still, if the affair should
turn out ill, they will perhaps have more than the venture to ask for. For even
though any violence should snatch that man from your severity, which I do not fear,
a judges, nor do I think it by any means possible; still, if my expectations should
in this deceive me, the Sicilians will complain that their cause is lost, and they
will be as indignant as I shall myself; yet the Roman people, in a short time, since
it has given me the power of pleading before them, shall through my exertions
recover its rights by its own votes before the beginning of February. And if you
have any anxiety, O judges, for my honour and for my renown, it is not unfavourable
for my interests, that that man, having been saved from me at this trial, should be
reserved for that decision of the Roman people. The cause is a splendid one, one
easily to be proved by me, very acceptable and agreeable to the Roman people.
Lastly, if I see where to have wished to rise at the expense of that one man, which
I have not wished,—if he should be acquitted, (a thing which cannot happen without
the wickedness of many men,) I shall be enabled to rise at the expense of many.
Wherefore, from this place I warn you also, O Hortensius, if there is any room for giving a warning, to take care again and again, and to consider what you are doing, and whither you are proceeding; what man it is whom you are defending, and by what means you are doing so. Nor in this manner do I seek at all to limit you, so as to prevent your contending against me with all your genius, and all your ability in speaking. As to other things, if you think that you can secretly manage, out of court, some of the things which belong to this judicial trial; if you think that you can effect anything by artifice, by cunning, by influence, by your own popularity, by that man's wealth; then I am strongly of opinion you had better abandon that idea. And I warn you rather to put down, I warn you not to suffer to proceed any further the attempts which have already been commenced by that man, but which have been thoroughly detected by, and are thoroughly known to me. It will be at a great risk to yourself that any error is committed in this trial; at a greater risk than you think.
For as for your thinking yourself now relieved from all fear for your reputation, and at the summit of all honour as consul elect, believe me, it is no less laborious a task to preserve those honours and kindnesses, conferred on you by the Roman people, than to acquire them. This city has borne as long as it could, as long as there was no help for it, that kingly sort of sway of yours which you have exercised in the courts of justice, and in every part of the republic. It has borne it, I say. But on the day when the tribunes of the people were restored to the Roman people, all those privileges (if you are not yourself already aware of it) were taken away from you. At this very time the eyes of all men are directed on each individual among us, to see with what good faith I prosecute him, with what scrupulous justice these men judge him, in what manner you defend him.
And in the case of all of us, if any one of us turns aside ever so little from the right path, there will follow, not that silent opinion of men which you were formerly accustomed to despise, but a severe and fearless judgment of the Roman people. You have, O Quintus, no relationship, no connection with that man. In the case of this man you can have none of those excuses with which you formerly used to defend your excessive zeal in any trial. You are bound to take care above all things, that the things which that fellow used to say in the province, when he said that he did all that he was doing out of his confidence in you, shall not be thought to be true.
I feel sure now that I have discharged my duty to the satisfaction of all those who are most unfavourable to me. For I convicted him, in the few hours which the first pleading occupied, in the opinion of every man. The remainder of the trial is not now about my good faith, which has been amply proved, nor about that fellow's way of life, which has bean fully condemned; but it is the judges, and if I am to tell the truth, it is yourself, who will now be passed sentence on. But when will that sentence be passed? For that is a point that must be much looked to, since in all things, and especially in state affairs, the consideration of time and circumstance is of the greatest importance. Why, at that time when the Roman people shall demand another class of men, another order of citizens to act as judges. Sentence will be pronounced in deciding on that law about new judges and fresh tribunals which has been proposed in reality not by the man whose name you see on the back of it, but by this defendant. Verres, I say, has contrived to have this law drawn up and proposed from the hope and opinion which he entertains of you.
Therefore, when this cause was first commenced, that law had not been proposed; when Verres, alarmed at your impartiality, had given many indications that he was not likely to make any reply at all, still no mention was made of that law; when he seemed to pick up a little courage and to fortify himself with some little hope, immediately this law was proposed. And as your dignity is exceedingly inconsistent with this law, so his false hopes and preeminent impudence are strongly in favour of it. In this case, if anything blameworthy be done by any of you, either the Roman people itself will judge that man whom it has already pronounced unworthy of any trial at all; or else those men will judge, who, because of the unpopularity of the existing tribunals, will be appointed as new judges by a new law made respecting the old judges.
For myself, even though I were not to say it myself, who is there who is not aware how far it is necessary for me to proceed? Will it be possible for me to be silent, O Hortensius? Will it be possible for me to dissemble, when the republic has received so severe a wound, that, though I pleaded the cause, our provinces will appear to have been pillaged, our allies oppressed, the immortal gods plundered, Roman citizens tortured and murdered with impunity? Will it be possible for me either to lay this burden on the shoulders of this tribunal, or any longer to endure it in silence? Must not the matter be agitated? must it not be brought publicly forward? Must not the good faith of the Roman people be implored? Must not all who have implicated themselves in such wickedness as to allow their good faith to be tampered with, or to give a corrupt decision, be summoned before the court, and made to encounter a public trial?
Perhaps some one will ask, Are you then going to take upon yourself such a labour, and such violent enmity from so many quarters? Not, of a truth, from any desire of mine, or of my own free will. But I have not the same liberty allowed me that they have who are born of noble family; on whom even when they are asleep all the honours of the Roman people are showered. I must live in this city on far other terms and other conditions. For the case of Marcus Cato, a most wise and active man, occurs to me; who, as he thought that it was better to be recommended to the Roman people by virtue than by high birth, and as he wished that the foundation of his race and name should be hid and extended by himself, voluntarily encountered the enmity of most influential men, and lived in the discharge of the greatest labours to an extreme old age with great credit.