What more? Is it possible to pass over the case of Apollonius, the son of Diocles, a Panormitan, whose surname is Geminus? Can anything be mentioned which is more notorious in the whole of Sicily? anything which is more scandalous? anything which is more fully proved? This man Verres, as soon as he came to Panormus, ordered to be summoned before him, and to be cited before his tribunal, in the presence of a great number of the Roman settlers in that city. Men immediately began to talk; to wonder how it was that Apollonius, a wealthy man, had so long remained free from his attacks. “He has devised some plan; he has brought some charge against him; a rich man is not summoned in a hurry by Verres without some object.” All are in the greatest state of anxiety to see what is to happen, when on a sudden Apollonius himself runs up, out of breath, with his young son; for his father, a very old man, had been for some time confined to his bed.

Verres names one of his slaves, who he said was the manager of his flocks; says that he has formed a conspiracy, and excited slaves in other households. He had actually no such slave in his family at all. He orders him to be produced instantly. Apollonius asserts that he has no slave whatever of that name. Verres orders the man to be hurried from the tribunal, and to be cast into prison. He began to cry out, while he was being hurried off, that the, unhappy man that he was, had done nothing; had committed no offence; that his money was all out at loan, that ready money he had none. While he kept making these declarations in a very numerous assembly of people, so that every one could understand that he was treated with this bitter injustice and violence because he had not given Verres money,—while, I say, he kept making these statements about his money at the top of his voice, he was thrown into prison.

See now the consistency of the praetor, and of that praetor who, now being on his trial, is not defended as a tolerable praetor, but is extolled as an admirable general. While a war of slaves was dreaded, he released condemned slaves from the same punishment which he inflicted on their masters who were not condemned. He threw into prison, under pretence of a servile war, without a trial, Apollonius, a most wealthy man, who if the runaway slaves had kindled a war in Sicily would have lost a most magnificent fortune: the slaves whom he himself, with the agreement of his assessors, decided had conspired together for the purpose of war, those, without the consent of his assessors, of his own accord, he released from all punishment.

What more shall I say? If anything was done by Apollonius to justify his being punished, shall we conduct this affair in such a manner as to impute it as a crime to the defendant, as to seek to excite ill-feeling against him, if he has judged a man rather too harshly? I will not act in so bitter a spirit. I will not adopt the usual method of accusers, so as to disparage anything which may have been done mercifully, as having been so done out of indifference; or, if anything has been punished with severity, so as to pervert that into a charge of cruelty—I will not act on that system. I will follow your decisions; I will defend your authority as long as you choose; when you yourself begin to rescind your own decrees, then cease to be angry with me, for I will contend, as I have a right to do, that he who has been condemned by his own decision ought to be condemned by the decisions of judges on their oaths.

I will not defend the cause of Apollonius, my own friend and connection, lest I should seem to be rescinding, our decision; I will say nothing of the economy, of the virtue, of the industry of the man; I will even pass over that which I have mentioned before, that his fortune was invested in such a manner, in slaves, in cattle, in country houses, in money out at loan, that there was no man to whom it would be more injurious for there to be any disturbance or war in Sicily; I will not even say this, that if Apollonius were ever so much in fault, still an honourable man of a most honourable city ought not to have been so severely punished without a trial.

I will not seek to excite any odium against you, not even out of the circumstances that, while such a man was lying in prison, in darkness, in dirt and filth, all permission to visit him was refuted by your tyrannical prohibition to his aged father, and to his youthful son. I will even pass over this, that every time that you came to Panormus during that eighteen months, (for all that time was Apollonius kept in prison,) the senate of Panormus came to you as suppliants, with the public magistrates and priests, praying and entreating you to release some time or other that miserable and innocent man from that cruel treatment. I will omit all these statements; though, were I to choose to follow them up, I could easily show by your cruelty towards others, that every channel of mercy from the judges to yourself has been long since blocked up.

All those topics I will abandon, I will spare you them. For I know beforehand what Hortensius will say in your defence. He will confess that with Verres neither the old age of Apollonius's father, nor the youth of his son, nor the tears of both, had more influence than the advantage and safety of the republic. He will say that the affairs of the republic cannot be administered without terror and severity; he will ask why the fasces are borne before the praetors, why the axes are given to them, why prisons have been built, why so many punishments have been established against the wicked by the usage of our ancestors. And when he has said all this with becoming gravity and sternness, I will ask him why Verres all of a sudden ordered this same Apollonius to be released from prison, without any fresh circumstances having been brought to light, without any defence having been made, or any trial having taken place? And I will affirm that there is so much suspicion attached to this charge, that, without any arguments of mine, I will allow the judges to form their own opinion as to what a system of plundering this was, how infamous, how scandalous, and what an immense and boundless field it opens for inordinate gain.

For first of all consider for a moment how many and how grievous were the evils which that man inflicted on Apollonius; and then calculate them and estimate them by money. You will find that they were all so continued in the case of this one wealthy man, as by their example to cause a fear of similar suffering and danger to all others. In the first place, there was a sudden accusation of a capital and detestable crime; judge what you think this worth, and how many have bought themselves off from such charges. In the next place, there is an accusation without an accuser, a sentence without any bench of judges, a condemnation without any defence having been made. Estimate the money to be got by all these transactions, and then suppose that Apollonius alone was an actual victim to these atrocities, but that all the rest, as many as they were, delivered themselves from these sufferings by money. Lastly, there were darkness, chains, imprisonment, punishment within the prison, seclusion from the sight of his parents and of his children, a denial of the free air and common light of heaven; but these things, which a man might freely give his life to escape, I am unable to estimate by the standard of money.

From all these things did Apollonius after a long time ransom himself, when he was worn out with suffering and misery; but still he taught the rest to meet that man's wickedness and avarice beforehand. Unless you think that a wealthy man was selected for so incredible an accusation without any object of gain; or that, again, he was on a sudden released from prison without any corresponding reason; or that this method of plundering was used and tried in the case of that man alone, and that terror was not, by means of his example, held out to and struck into every rich man in Sicily.

I wish, O judges, to be prompted by him, since I am speaking of his military renown, if by accident I pass over anything. For I seem to myself to have spoken of all his exploits which are connected with his suspicion of a servile war; at all events I have not omitted anything intentionally. You are in possession of the man's wisdom, and diligence, and vigilance; and of his guardianship and defence of the province. The main thing is, as there are many classes of generals, for you to know to what class he belongs. But that, in the present dearth of brave men, you may not be ignorant of such a commander as he is, know,—I beg you, O judges, to be aware, that his is not the wisdom of Quintus Maximus, nor the promptness of action belonging to that great man the elder Africanus, nor the singular prudence of the Africanus of later times, nor the method and discipline of Paulus Aemilius, nor the vigour and courage of Caius Marcus; but that he is to be esteemed and taken care of as belonging to quite a different class of generals.

In the first place, see how easy and pleasant to himself Verres by his own ingenuity and wisdom made the labour of marches, which is a labour of the greatest importance in all military affairs, and most especially necessary in Sicily. First, in the winter season he devises for himself this admirable remedy against the severity of the cold and the violence of storms and floods; he selected the city of Syracuse, the situation of which and the nature of its soil and atmosphere are said to be such that there never yet was a day of such violent and turbulent storms, that men could not see the sun at some time or other in the day. Here that gallant general was quartered in the winter months, so securely that it was not easy to see him, I will not say out of the house, but even out of bed. So the shortness of the day was consumed in banquets, the length of the night in adulteries and debaucheries.

But when it began to be spring, the beginning of which he was not used to date from the west wind, or from any star, but he thought that spring was beginning when he had seen the rose, then he devoted himself to labour and to marches; and in these he proved himself so patient and active that no one ever once saw him sitting on a horse. For, as was the custom of the kings of Bithynia, he was borne on a litter carried by eight men, in which was a cushion, very beautiful, of Melitan manufacture, stuffed with roses. And he himself had one chaplet on his head, another on his neck, and kept putting a network bag to his nose, made of the finest thread, with minute interstices, full of roses. Having performed his march in this manner, when he came to any town he was carried in the same litter up to his chamber. Thither came the magistrates of the Sicilians, thither came the Roman knights, as you have heard many of them state on their oaths; there disputes were secretly communicated to him; and from thence, a little while afterwards, decrees were openly brought down. Then, when for a while he had dispensed the laws for bribery, and not out of considerations of justice, he thought that now the rest of his time was due to Venus and to Bacchus.

And when speaking of this, I must not omit the admirable and singular diligence of this great general. For know that there is no town in all Sicily of those in which the praetors are accustomed to stay and hold their court, in which there was not some woman selected for him out of some respectable family, to gratify his lust. Some of them were even openly present at his banquets. If there were some a little modest, they used to come at the proper time, and avoided the light of day, and the crowd. And these banquets were celebrated, not with the orderly silence of the banquets of praetors and generals of the Roman people, nor with that modesty which is usually found at the entertainments of magistrates, but with the most excessive noise and licence of conversation sometimes even affairs proceeded to blows and fighting. For that strict and diligent praetor, who had never obeyed the laws of the Roman people, observed most carefully those rules which are laid down for drinking parties. And accordingly the ends of these banquets were such that men were often carried out from the feast as from a battle; others were left on the ground as dead; numbers lay prostrate without sense or feeling, so that any one who beheld the scene would have supposed that he was looking not on a banquet of a praetor, but on the battle of Cannae.

But when the middle of summer began to be felt, the time that all the praetors in Sicily have been accustomed to devote to their journeys, because they think that the best time for travelling over the province where the corn is on the threshing-floor, because at that time all the members of a household are collected together, and the number of a person's slaves is seen, and the work that is done is most easily observed; the abundance of the harvest invites travel and the season of the year is no obstacle to it; then, I say, when all other praetors are used to travel about, that general of a new sort pitched himself a permanent camp in the most beautiful spot in Syracuse.

For at the very entrance and mouth of the harbour, where first the bay begins to curve from the shore of the open sea towards the city, he pitched tents of fine linen curtains; thither he migrated from the praetorian palace which had belonged to king Hiero, and lived here so that during the whole summer no one ever saw him out of his tent. And to that tent no one had access unless he was either a boon companion, or a minister of his lust. Hither came all the women with whom he had any intrigue, and of these it is incredible how great a number there was at Syracuse. Hither came men worthy of that man's friendship, worthy associates in that course of life also those banquets. Among such men and such women as these, his son, now grown up, spent his time; in order that if nature removed him at all from the likeness to his father, still use and constant training might make him resemble him.

That Tertia whom I have spoken of before, having been tempted by trick and artifice to leave her Rhodian flute-player and to come hither, is reported to have caused great disturbance in that camp; as the wife of Cleomenes the Syracusan, a woman of noble birth, and the wife of Aeschrio, a woman of very respectable patronage, were very indignant that the daughter of Isidorus the buffoon should be admitted into their company. But that Hannibal, who thought that in his army there ought to be no rivalry of birth, but only of merit, was so much in love with this Tertia, that he carried her with him out of the province. And all that time, while that man, clad in a purple cloak and a tunic reaching to his ankles, was reveling in banquets with women, men were not offended, nor in the least vexed that the magistrate was absent from the forum that the laws were not administered, that the courts of justice were not held; that all that shore resounded with women's vices, and music and songs. They were not, I say, at all vexed at there being a total silence in the forum, no pleading, and no law. For it was not law or the court of justice that seemed to be absent from the forum, but violence and cruelty, and the bitter and shameful robbery of good men.

Do you then, O Hortensius, defend this man on the ground of his having been a general? Do you endeavour to conceal his thefts, his rapine, his cupidity, his cruelty, his pride, his wickedness, his audacity, by dwelling on the greatness of his exploits and his renown as a commander? No doubt I have cause to fear here, that at the end of your defence you may have recourse to the old conduct of Antonius, and to his mode of ending a speech; that Verres may be brought forward, his breast bared, that the Roman people may see his scars, inflicted by the bites of women, traces of lust and profligacy.

May the gods grant that you may venture to make mention of military affairs and of war. For all his ancient military service shall be made known, in order that you may be aware, not only what he has been as a commander, but also how he behaved as a soldier in his campaigns. That first campaign of his shall be brought up again, in which he was, as he says himself, subservient to others, not their master. The camp of that gambler of Placentia shall be brought: up again, where, though he were assiduous in his attendance, he still lost his pay. Many of his losses in his campaigns shall be recounted, which were made up for and retrieved by the most infamous expedients.

But afterwards, when he had become hardened by a long course of such infamy,—when he had sated others, not himself,—why need I relate what sort of man he turned out? what carefully guarded defences of modesty and chastity he broke down by violence and audacity? or why should I connect the disgrace of an, one else with his profligacy? I will not do so, O judges. I will pass over all old stories; I will only mention two recent achievements of his, without fixing infamy on any one else; and by those you will be able to conjecture the rest. One of them is, that it was so notorious to every one, that during the consulship of Lucius Lucullus and Marcus Cotta, no one ever came up from any municipal town to Rome on any law business, who was so ill-informed of what was going on as not to know that all the laws of the Roman people were regulated by the will and pleasure of Chelidon the prostitute. The other is that, after he had left the city in the robe of war,—after he had pronounced the solemn vows for the success of his administration, and for the common welfare of the republic, he was accustomed, for the sake of committing adultery, to be brought back into the city, at night, in a litter, to a woman who, though the wife of one man, was common to all men, contrary to law, contrary to what was required by the auspices, contrary to everything which is held sacred among gods and men.

O ye immortal gods! what a difference is there between the minds and ideas of men! So may your good opinion and that of the Roman people approve of my intentions, and sanction my hopes for the rest of my life, as I have received those offices with which the Roman people has as yet entrusted me with the feeling that I was bound to a conscientious discharge of every possible duty. I was appointed quaestor with the feeling that that honour was not given to me so much as lent and entrusted to me. I obtained the quaestorship in the province of Sicily, and considered that every man's eyes were turned upon me alone. So that I thought that I and my quaestorship were being exhibited on some theatre open to the whole world; so that I denied myself all those things which seem to be indulgences, not merely to those irregular passions, but even those which are coveted by nature itself and by necessity.