In C. Verrem

Verres, in a rage, attacks him with pretty violent language, and even began to threaten him severely, for bringing such a charge, and trying to excite such odium against him. Minucius, who lived as a merchant at Syracuse, in such a way as always to bear in mind his rights and his dignity and who knew that it became him not to increase his property in the province at the expense of any portion of his liberty, gave the man such answer as seemed good to him, and as the occasion and the cause required. He said that he would not speak in defence of his client when the bench of judges was sent away and dismissed. And so he left the bar. And all the other friends and advocates of Sopater, except the Sicilians, did the same.

Verres, though he is a man of incredible effrontery and audacity, yet when he was thus suddenly left alone got frightened and agitated. He did not know what to do, or which way to turn. If he adjourned the investigation at that time, he knew that when those men were present, whom he had got rid of for the time, Sopater would be acquitted; but if he condemned an unfortunate and innocent man, (while he himself, the praetor, was without any colleagues, and the defendant without any counsel or patron,) and rescinded the decision of Caius Sacerdos, he thought that he should not be able to withstand the unpopularity of such an act. So he was quite in a fever with perplexity. He turned himself every way, not only as to his mind, but also as to his body; so that all who were present could plainly see that fear and covetousness were contending together in his heart. There was a great crowd of people present, there was profound silence, and eager expectation which way his covetousness was going to find vent. His attendant Timarchides was constantly stooping down to his ear.

Then at last he said, “Come, state your case.” Sopater began to implore him by the good faith of gods and man, to hear the cause in company with the rest of the bench. He orders the witnesses to be summoned instantly. One or two of them give their evidence briefly. No questions are asked. The crier proclaims that the case is closed. Verres, as if he were afraid that Petilius, having either finished or adjourned the private cause on which he was engaged, might return to the bench with the rest, jumps down in haste from his seat; he condemned an innocent man, one who had been acquitted by Caius Sacerdos, without hearing him in his defence, by the joint sentence of a secretary, a physician, and a soothsayer.

Keep, pray keep that man in the city, O judges. Spare him and preserve him, that you may have a man to assist you in judging causes; to declare his opinion in the senate on questions of war and peace, without any covetous desires. Although, indeed, we and the Roman people have less cause to be anxious as to what his opinion in the senate is likely to be: for what will be his authority? When will he have either the daring or the power to deliver his opinion? When will a man of such luxury and such indolence ever attempt to mount up to the senate-house except in the month of February? [*](In the month of February, as has been said before, the senate gave audience to the deputies from foreign nations, and these deputies were accustomed to bring rich presents to the senators who favoured their respective nations.) However, let him come; let him vote war against the Cretans, liberty to the Byzantines; let him call Ptolemy king; let him say and think everything which Hortensius wishes him. These things do not so immediately concern us—have not such immediate reference to the risk of our lives, or to the peril of our fortunes.

What really is of vital importance, what is formidable, what is to be dreaded by every virtuous man, is, that if through any influence this man escapes from this trial, he must be among the judges; he must give his decision on the lives of Roman citizens; he must be standard-bearer in the army of that man [*](Hortensius is meant here.) who wishes to possess undisputed sway over our courts of justice. This the Roman people refuses; this it will never endure; the whole people raises an outcry, and gives you leave, if you are delighted with these men, if you wish from such a set to add splendour to your order, and an ornament to the senate-house, to have that fellow among you as a senator, to have him even as a judge in your own cases, if you choose; but men who are not of your body, men to whom the admirable Cornelian laws do not give the power of objecting to more than three judges, do not choose that this man, so cruel, so wicked, so infamous should sit as judge in matters in which they are concerned.

In truth, if that is a wicked action, (which appears to me to be of all actions the most base, and the most wicked,) to take money to influence a decision in a court of law, to put up one's good faith and religion to auction; how much love wicked, flagitious, and scandalous is it, to condemn a man from whom you have taken money to acquit him?—so that the praetor does not even act up to the customs of robbers, for there is honour among thieves. It is a sin to take money from a defendant; how much more to take it from an accuser! how much more wicked still to take it from both parties! When you had put up your good faith to auction in the province, he had the most weight with you who gave you the most money.—That was natural: perhaps some time or other some one else may have done something of the same sort. But when you had already disposed of your good faith and of your scruples to the one party, and had received the money, and had afterwards sold the very same articles to his adversary for a still higher price, are you going to cheat both, and to decide as you please? and not even to give back the money to the party whom you have deceived?

What is the use of speaking to me of Bulbus, of Stalenus? [*](Bulbus and Stalenus had been judges in the action between Cluentius and Oppianicus, which had been already mentioned, and had been convicted of corruption in that trial.) What monster of this sort, what prodigy of wickedness have we ever heard of or seen, who would first sell his decision to the defendant, and afterwards decide in favour of the accuser? who would get rid of, and dismiss from the bench honourable men who were acquainted with the cause; would by himself alone condemn a defendant, who had been acquitted once from whom he had taken money, and would not restore: him his money?—Shall we have this man on the list of judges Shall he be named as judge in the second senatorial decury? Shall he be the Judge of the lives of free men? Shall a judicial tablet be entrusted to him, which he will mark not only with wax, but with blood too if it be made worth his while?

For what of all these things does he deny having done? That, perhaps, which he must deny or else be silent,—the having taken the money? Why should he not deny it? But the Roman knight who defended Sopater, who was present at all his deliberations and at every transaction, Quintus Minucius, says on his oath that the money was paid; he says on his oath that Timarchides said that a greater sum was being offered by the accusers. All the Sicilians will say the same; all the citizens of Halicya will say the same; even the young son of Sopater will say the same, who by that most cruel man has been deprived of his innocent father and of his father's property.

But if I cannot make the case plain, as far as the money is concerned, by evidence, can you deny this, or will you now deny, that after you had dismissed the rest of the judges, after those excellent men who had sat on the bench with Caius Sacerdos, and who were used to sit there with you, had been got rid of, you by yourself decided a matter which had been decided before?—that the man, whom Caius Sacerdos, assisted by a bench of colleagues, after an investigation of the case, acquitted, you, without any bench of colleagues, without investigating the case, condemned? When you have confessed this, which was done openly in the forum at Syracuse, before the eyes of the whole province; then deny, if you like, that you received money. You will be very likely to find a man, when he sees these things which were done openly, to ask what you did secretly; or to doubt whether he had better believe my witnesses or your defenders.

I have already said, O judges, that I shall not enumerate all that fellow's actions which are of this sort; but that I shall select those which are the most remarkable. Listen now to another remarkable exploit of his, one that has already been mentioned in many places, and one of such a sort that every possible crime seems to be comprehended in that one. Listen carefully, for you will find that this deed had its origin in covetousness, its growth in lust, its consummation and completeness in cruelty.

Sthenius, the man who is sitting by us, is a citizen of Thermae, long since known to many by his eminent virtue and his illustrious birth, and now known to all men by his own misfortune and the unexampled injuries he has received from that man. Verres having often enjoyed his hospitality, and having not only stayed often with him at Thermae, but having almost dwelt with him there, took away from him out of his house everything which could in any uncommon degree delight the mind or eyes of any one. In truth, Sthenius from his youth had collected such things as these with more than ordinary diligence; elegant furniture of brass, made at Delos and at Corinth, paintings, and even a good deal of elegantly wrought silver, as far as the wealth of a citizen of Thermae could afford. And these things, when he was in Asia as a young man, he had collected diligently, as I said, not so much for any pleasure to himself, as for ornaments against the visits of Roman citizens, his own friends and connections, whenever he invited them.

But after Verres got them all, some by begging for then, some by demanding them, and some by boldly taking them, Sthenius bore it as well as he could, but he was affected with unavoidable indignation in his mind, at that fellow having rendered his house, which had been so beautifully furnished and decorated, naked and empty; still he told his indignation to no one. He thought he must bear the injuries of the praetor in silence—those of his guest with calmness.