In C. Verrem

These then are his exploits, this is his splendid victory; a piratical galley was captured, the captain was released, the musicians were sent to Rome; those with any good looks, any youth, or ally skill, were taken home by him; Roman citizens were tortured and executed in their room, and to make up their number; all the store of robes was taken away, all the silver and gold was taken by him and appropriated to his own use. But how did he defend himself at the former pleading? He who had been silent for so many days, on a sudden sprang up at the evidence of Marcus Annius, a most illustrious man, when he said that a Roman citizen had been executed, and that the captain of the pirates had not. Being roused by the consciousness of his wickedness, and by the frenzy which was inspired by his crimes, he said that, because be knew that he should be accused of having taken money, and of not having executed the real captain of the pirates, he had on that account not executed him, and he said that two captains of pirates were now in confinement in his house.

See the clemency, or rather the marvellous and unexampled patience of the Roman people! Annius, a Roman knight, says that a Roman citizen was put to death by the hand of the executioner. You say nothing. He says that the captain of the pirates was not executed. You admit it. At that a groan and outcry arises from all the assembly; though nevertheless the Roman people checked themselves, and forbore to inflict present punishment on you, and left you in safety for the present, being reserved for the severity of the judges. You, who knew that you should be accused, how did you know it? how came you ever to suspect it? You had no enemy. Even if you had, still you had not lived in such a way as to have any fear of a court of justice before yourselves. Did conscience, as often happens, make you timid and suspicious? Can you, then, who, when you were in command, were even then in fear of tribunals and accusations, now that you are on your trial as a criminal, and that the case is proved against you by so many witnesses, can you, I say, doubt of your condemnation?

But if you were afraid of this accusation,—that some one might say that you had substituted some one else, whom you had caused to be executed for the captain of the pirates, did you think that it would be a stronger argument in your defence, to produce among strangers a long time after, (because I required and compelled you to do so,) a man who you said was the captain of the pirates; or to execute him, while the affair was still of recent date, at Syracuse, among people who knew him well, in the sight of almost all Sicily? See how great a difference it makes which was done. In the one case there could have been no blame attached to you; in the other you have no defence. And accordingly, all men have always done the one thing; but I can find no one before you yourself, who has ever done the other. You detained the pirate alive. Till when? As long as you were in command. Why did you do so? On what account? According to what precedent? Why did you detain him so long? Why, I say, while the Roman citizens who were taken in the pirate's company were immediately put to death, did you give the pirates themselves so long a lease of life?

However, so be it. Let your conduct be responsible all the time that you were praetor. Did you still, when you became a private man, and when you became defendant—yes, and when you were all but condemned,—did you still, I say, detain the captain of our enemies in your private house? One month, a second month, almost a year, in fact, after they were taken, were the pirates in your house; where they would be still, if it had not been for me, that is to say, if it had not been for Marcus Acilius Glabrio, the praetor, who, at my demand, ordered them to be brought up and to be committed to prison. What is the law in such a case? What is the general custom? What are the precedents? Can any private man in the whole world detain within the walls of his own house the most bitter and unceasing enemy of the Roman people or, I should rather say, the common enemy of every race and nation?

What more shall I say? What would you say, if the very day before you were compelled by me to confess that, though you had put Roman citizens to death, the pirate captain was alive and in your house—if, I say, the very day before, he had escaped from your house, and had been able to collect an army against the Roman people? Would you say, “He dwelt with me, he was in my house; in order the more easily to refute the accusations of my enemies, I reserved this man alive and in safety for my trial?” Is it so? Will you defend yourself from danger, at the risk of the whole community? Will you regulate the time of the punishments which are due to conquered enemies, by what is convenient for yourself, not by what is expedient for the Roman people? Shall an enemy of the Roman people be kept in private custody? But even those who have triumphs, and who on that account keep the generals of the enemy alive a longer time, in order that, while they are led in triumph, the Roman people may enjoy an ennobling spectacle, and a splendid fruit of victory; nevertheless, when they begin to turn their chariot from the forum towards the Capitol, order them to be taken back to prison, and the same day brings to the conquerors the end of their authority, and to the conquered the end of their lives.

And now, can I suppose that any one doubts that you would never have allowed (especially as you made sure, as you say, that a prosecution would be instituted against you) that pirate to escape execution, and to live to increase your danger which was ever before your eyes? For indeed, suppose he had died, whom could you (who say that you were afraid of a prosecution) have convinced of it? When it was notorious that the captain of the pirates had been seen by no one at Syracuse, and that all desired to see him; when no one had any doubt that he had been released by you for a sum of money; when it was a common topic of conversation that some one had been substituted in his place, who you wished to make believe was the man; when you yourself had confessed that you had, for so long a time before, been afraid of that accusation; if you had said that he had died, who would have believed you?

Now, when you produce this man of yours, whoever he may be, still you see that you are laughed at. What would you have done if he had escaped? if he had broken his bonds, as Nico, that most celebrated pirate did, who was afterwards retaken by Publius Servilius, with the same good fortune as he had originally taken him with; what would you have said then? But the case was this.—If once that real captain of the pirates was put to death, you would not get that money. If this counterfeit one had died or had escaped, it would not have been difficult to substitute another in the room of one who was himself only a substitute. I have said more than I intended of that pirate captain; and yet I have passed over those things which are the most certain proofs of this crime. For I wish the whole of this accusation to remain untouched for the present. There is a certain place for its discussion, a certain law to be mentioned in connection with it, a certain tribunal for whose judgment it is reserved.

Though enriched with all this booty, with these slaves, with this silver plate, and these robes, he was still no more diligent than before in equipping the fleet, in recalling and provisioning the troops; though that would not only have tended to the safety of the province, but might have been even profitable to himself. For in the height of summer, when all other praetors have been accustomed to visit all the province, and to travel about, or to sail about,—at a time when there was such fear of and such danger from the pirates; at that time he was not content, for the purpose of his luxury and lust, with his own kingly palace which had belonged to king Hiero, and which the praetors are in the habit of using. He ordered, as I have stated already, tents, such as he was wont to use at the summer season, erected of fine linen curtains, to be pitched on the seashore; on that part of the shore which is within the island of Syracuse, behind the fountain of Arethusa; close to the entrance and mouth of the harbour, in a very pleasant situation, and one far enough removed from overlookers.

Here the praetor of the Roman people, the guardian and defender of the province, lived for sixty days of the summer in such a style that he had banquets of women every day, while no man was admitted except himself and his youthful son. Although, indeed, I might have made no exception, but might have said that there was no man there at all, as there were only these two. Sometimes also his freedman Timarchides was admitted. But the women were all wives of citizens, of noble birth, except one the daughter of an actor named Isidorus, whom he, out of love, had seduced away from a Rhodian flute player. There was a woman called Pippa, the wife of Aeschrio the Syracusan, concerning which woman many verses, which were made on Verres's fondness for her, are quoted over all Sicily.