In C. Verrem

And that you may not suppose that those things which have been removed out of the way, and taken from you, were all so carefully hidden, and kept so secretly, that with all the diligence which I am aware is universally expected of me nothing concerning them has been able to be arrived at or discovered, I must tell you that, whatever could by any means or contrivance be found out, has been found out, O judges. You shall see in a moment the man detected in the very act; for as I have spent a great part of my life in attending to the causes of farmers, and have paid great attention to that body, I think that I am sufficiently acquainted with their customs by experience and by intercourse with them.

Therefore, when I ascertained that the letters of the company were removed out of the way, I made a calculation of the years that that man had been in Sicily; then I inquired (what was exceedingly easy to discover) who during those years had been the collectors of that company,—in whose care the records had been. For I was aware that it was the custom of the collectors who kept the records, when they gave them up to the new collector, to retain copies of the documents themselves. And therefore I went in the first place to Lucius Vibius, a Roman knight, a man of the highest consideration, who, I ascertained, had been collector that very year about which I particularly had to inquire. I came upon the man unexpectedly when he was thinking of other things. I investigated what I could, and inquired into everything. I found only two small books, which had been sent by Lucius Canuleius to the shareholders from the harbour at Syracuse; in which there was entered an account of many months, and of things exported in Verres's name without having paid harbour dues. These I sealed up immediately.

These were documents of that sort which of all the papers of the company I was most anxious to find; but still I only found enough, O judges, to produce to you as a sample, as it were. But still, whatever is in these books, however unimportant it may seem to be, will at all events be undeniable; and by this you will be able to form your conjectures as to the rest. Read for me, I beg, this first book, and then the other. [The books of Canuleius are read.] I do not ask now whence you got those four hundred jars of honey, or such quantities of Maltese cloth, or fifty cushions for sofas or so many candelabra;—I do not, I say, inquire at present where you got these things; but, how you could want such a quantity of them, that I do ask. I say nothing about the honey; but what could you want with so many Maltese garments? as if you were going to dress all your friends' wives;—or with so many sofa cushions? as if you were going to furnish all their villas.

As in these little books there are only the accounts of a few months, conjecture in your minds what they must have been for the whole three years. This is what I contend for. From these small books found in the house of one collector of the company, you can form some conjecture how great a robber that man was in that province; what a number of desires, what different ones, what countless ones he indulged; what immense sums he made not only in money, but invested also in articles of this sort; which shall be detailed to you more fully another time. At present listen to this.

By these exportations, of which the list was read to you, he writes that the shareholders had lost sixty thousand sesterces by the five per cent due on them as harbour dues at Syracuse. In a few months, therefore, as these little insignificant books show, things were stolen by the praetor and exported from one single town of the value of twelve hundred thousand sesterces. Think now, as the island is one which is accessible by sea on all sides, what you can suppose was exported from other places? from Agrigentum, from Lilybaeum, from Panormus, from Thermae, from Halesa, from Catina, from the other towns? And what from Messana? the place which he thought safe for his purpose above all others,—where he was always easy and comfortable in his mind, because he had selected the Mamertines as men to whom he could send everything which was either to be preserved carefully, or exported secretly. After these books had been found, the rest were removed and concealed more carefully; but we, that all men may see that we are acting without any ulterior motive, are content with these books which we have produced.

Now we will return to the accounts of the society of money received and paid, which they could not possibly remove honestly, and to your friend Carpinatius. We inspected at Syracuse accounts of the company made up by Carpinatius, which showed by many items that many of the men who had paid money to Verres, had borrowed it of Carpinatius. That will be clearer than daylight to you, O judges, when I produce the very men who paid the money; for you will see that the times at which, as they were in danger, they bought themselves off, agree with the records of the company not only as to the years, but even as to the months.

While we were examining this matter thoroughly, and holding the documents actually in our hands, we see on a sudden erasures of such a sort as to appear to be fresh wounds inflicted on papers. Immediately, having a suspicion of something wrong, we bent our eyes and attention on the names themselves. Money was entered as having been received from Caius Verrutius the son of Caius, in such a way that the letters had been let stand down to the second R, all the rest was an erasure. A second, a third, a fourth—there were a great many names in the same state. As the matter was plain, so also was the abominable and scandalous worthlessness of the accounts. We began to inquire of Carpinatius who that Verrutius was, with whom he had such extensive pecuniary dealings. The man began to hesitate, to look away, to colour. Because there is a provision made by law with respect to the accounts of the farmers, forbidding their being taken to Rome; in order that the matter might be as clear and as completely proved as possible, I summon Carpinatius before the tribunal of Metellus and produce the accounts of the company in the forum. There is a great rush of people to the place; and as the partnership existing between Carpinatius and that praetor, and his usury, were well known, all people were watching with the most eager expectation to see what was contained in the accounts

I bring the matter before Metellus; I state to him that I have seen the accounts of the shareholders, that in these there is a long account of one Caius Verrutius made up of many items, and that I saw, by a computation of the years and months, that this Verrutius had had no account at all with Carpinatius, either before the arrival of Caius Verres, or after his departure. I demand that Carpinatius shall give me an answer who that Verrutius is; whether he is a merchant, or a broker, or an agriculturist, or a grazier; whether he is in Sicily, or whether he has now left it. All who were in the court cried out at once that there had never been any one in Sicily of the name of Verrutius. I began to press the man to answer me who he was, where he was, whence he came; why the servant of the company who made up the accounts always made a blunder in the name of Verrutius at the same place?

And I made this demand, not because I thought it of any consequence that he should be compelled to answer me these things against his will, but that the robberies of one, the dishonesty of the other, and the audacity of both might be made evident to all the world. And so I leave him in the court, dumb from fear and the consciousness of his crimes, terrified out of his wits, and almost frightened to death; I take a copy of the accounts in the forum, with a great crowd of men standing round me; the most eminent men in the assembly are employed in making the copy; the letters and the erasures are faithfully copied and imitated, and transferred from the accounts into books.

The copy was examined and compared with the original with the greatest care and diligence, and then sealed up by most honourable men. If Carpinatius would not answer me then, do you, O Verres, answer me now, who you imagine this Verrutius, who must almost be one of your own family, to be. It is quite impossible that you should not have known a man in your own province, who, I see, was in Sicily while you were praetor, and who, I perceive from the accounts themselves, was a very wealthy man. And now, that this may not be longer in obscurity, advance into the middle, [*](This is said of the officers of the court who have the account in their keeping during the trial.) open the volume, the copy of the accounts, so that every one may be able to see now, not the traces only of that man's avarice, but the very bed in which it lay.

You see the word Verrutius?—You see the first letters untouched? you see the last part of the name, the tail of Verres, smothered in the erasure, as in the mud. The original accounts, O judges, are in exactly the same state as this copy.—What are you waiting for? What more do you want? You, Verres, why are you sitting there? Why do you delay? for either you must show us Verrutius, or confess that you yourself are Verrutius. The ancient orators are extolled, the Crassi and Antonii, because they had the skill to efface the impression made by an accusation with great clearness, and to defend the causes of accused persons with eloquence. It was not, forsooth, in ability only that they surpassed those who are now employed here as counsel, but also in good fortune. No one, in those times, committed such crimes as to leave no room for any defence; no one lived in such a manner that no part of his life was free from the most extreme infamy; no one was detected in such manifest guilt, that, shameless as he had been in the action, he seemed still more shameless if he denied it.

But now what can Hortensius do? Can he argue against the charges of avarice by panegyrics on his client's economy? He is defending a man thoroughly profligate, thoroughly licentious, thoroughly wicked. Can he lead your attention away from this infamy and profligacy of his, and turn them into some other direction by a mention of his bravery? But a man more inactive, more lazy, one who is more a man among women, a debauched woman among men, cannot be found.—But his manners are affable. Who is more obstinate more rude? more arrogant?—But still all this is without any injury to any one. Who has ever been more furious, more treacherous, and more cruel? With such a defendant and such a cause, what could all the Crassus's and Antonius's in the world do? This is all they would do, as I think, O Hortensius; they would have nothing to do with the cause at all, lest by contact with the impudence of another they might lose their own characters for virtue. For they come to plead causes free and unshackled, so as not, if they did not choose to act shamelessly in defending people, to be thought ungrateful for abandoning them.

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? [*](Thensa was the chariot or car on which the images of the gods were carried in the Ludi Circenses.) Must not he who thinks that all men ought to live under equal laws, be very hostile to you, when he considers the variety and caprice of your decrees? Must not he who grieves at the injuries of the allies and the distresses of the provinces be excited against you by the plundering of Asia, the harassing of Pamphylia, the miserable state and the agony of Sicily? Ought not he who desires the rights and the liberty of the Roman citizens to be held sacred among all men,—to be even more than an enemy to you, when here collects your scourgings, your executions, your crosses erected for the punishment of Roman citizens?

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. What? cannot even those matters, which seem more trifling, move any one's mind,—that the worthlessness and audacity of that man should have a more easy access to your own friendship, O Hortensius, and to that of other great and noble men, than the virtue and integrity of any one of us? You hate the industry of new men; you despise their economy; you scorn their modesty; you wish their talents and virtues to be depressed and extinguished.

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.